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  “He’s the most notorious pirate in the Cassandra sector.”

  She jolted to her feet. “You mean he’s still alive?”

  The officer looked over Shayalin carefully, only now realizing what he had stepped into. His mouth firmed. “He gutted a trader ship from Urioq just yesterday.”

  She sank back into her chair, feeling the blood leave her face as she finally took in his words. “He’s a pirate?” Her voice cracked.

  He glanced down at his screen. “The reports say that Mara Cho was told of his actions when the Burricus first went rogue.”

  Her mother had lied to her.

  “Thank you for telling me.” She managed to stand again by using his desk as support. Her balance felt skewed, but she wasn’t going to stay here and let this officer witness her humiliation any longer.

  “Applicant Cho—”

  “I’m grateful for your time,” she said, and through sheer will turned and took the four steps necessary to reach the door. Her mind was numb, but her hand remembered to press the pad to make the door slide open.

  With the same mechanical precision she walked down the hallway and back to the lobby.

  “Shay!” Jayce’s grin faded as he took in her expression. “They didn’t take you?”

  She jerked her shoulder away from his outstretched hand. How could she tell him? She’d boasted about her father to him the very first time they’d met.

  “Shay?”

  She didn’t meet his eyes, just began to run.

  “Shayalin!”

  Somewhere behind her a door opened. “Recruit—that is, Applicant Jayce Dietrich?”

  She welcomed the interruption, bitter though it was. Recruit, he’d said. It had been both their dreams, and now only Jayce was picked for it. But the officer’s slip distracted Jayce long enough for her to round the corner and get out of sight. There were people in her way, exclaiming as she rushed past them, so she chose a door at random and passed through it to escape the disapproval their blur of faces would surely resolve into.

  She didn’t know where she was going, except away. Jayce would be happy joining the Corps—he’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? But she would never get to learn to pilot a ship or have the chance to serve on another world. Her mother would be glad to see her return to Centuris and settle down as a planet-bound homesteader—or perhaps she would be scornful. The Steaders prided themselves on sticking out their projects, and Shayalin hadn’t been able to see this through.

  She clenched her hands. Her bones still ached with the desire to fly in space. She wasn’t going to get any closer than on this station, so why waste the chance?

  She retrieved her bag from the storage locker she’d stashed it in and found her way to a station bar overlooking one of the docking bays. Recklessly, she asked the bartender to surprise her, and carried the startlingly blue beverage she received over to a stool that offered a perfect view.

  There were so many ships, too many to count. Some, drifting right by the station, were leviathans with bulging cargo holds, but others were slender arrows that nearly disappeared when viewed in profile. If she closed one eye and brought her thumb and forefinger close together in front of her face, it was almost as though she could pinch one out of space and take it for her own.

  She sighed and took a long swallow of her drink.

  A man settled himself a couple of seats down from her. “Wei makes those strong—better take it slow,” he said.

  She looked over at him. He was gray-haired, his chin a bit grizzled and his face seamed with laughter. She decided he was simply being friendly. “Wei?”

  “The bartender. I stop in here between trade runs a lot. I’ve gotten to know most of her repertoire, and that drink of yours looks like a Blue Python. She likes to foist it off on newcomers who don’t know any better.”

  She was still focused on his mention of trade runs. “You have a ship?”

  “I pilot one,” he said. “Thirty-two years now.”

  “You must have been to so many places…”

  “A lot of it’s back and forth,” he said. “Same runs, same stations, same planets. Not as exciting as it seems.”

  “Oh.” She stared out at all those ships again, unable to imagine being on any one of them as boring.

  “Why, where do you want to go?” he asked with mild interest.

  The answer leapt out of her. “Urioq.”

  “Huh. We’re headed that direction. Balba’s our stop, but you could easily find someone to pick you up there and take you the rest of the way. It’s practically a shuttle hop.”

  She’d never considered simply leaving before. She had some funds carefully saved up—not to be squandered on this, she was sure, but suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to Centuris.

  “How much is passage?”

  “Four hundred fifty standards. You from one of the Rim colonies?”

  He spoke with the same easy curiosity as before, so she nodded.

  “Thought so. The accent. There are some who’d try to take advantage of that, you know.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m going to check the fare with other ships.”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough. We’ll call it four twenty-five, and you go ahead and ask around. That’ll be the best price you get. I’m Mohit Pareau of the Alioqui. Anyone in this bar can tell you where we’re docked.”

  “I’m Shayalin Cho,” she said. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

  It was difficult not to, as she circulated throughout the bar and asked about her prospects for getting to Urioq. She collected three fares higher than Mohit’s and a lewd proposition—thankfully right at the bar, where Wei the bartender took up station right across from them and quelled the man’s rudeness with a deliberate stare.

  “Thanks,” Shayalin said to her once the offender had slunk off.

  “Mohit asked me to keep an eye out for you,” she said, sliding a glass of clear liquid over to her.

  Shayalin sniffed at it suspiciously. “Then what’s this?”

  Wei chuckled. “Water. On the house.”

  Embarrassed, she mumbled her thanks and sipped it. There was a dullness to the taste she couldn’t quite describe—it was water, as she had said, but nothing like the fresh spring water on Centuris.

  Did she really want to leave?

  “So you really want to go to Urioq?” Wei asked, as if reading her mind.

  “Yes,” she said, suddenly decisive.

  “What takes you there?”

  “Family,” Shayalin said vaguely.

  “Running to or from?”

  She’d just been about to take another swallow but lowered the glass instead. “How could you tell?”

  Wei shrugged. “I’ve seen it all.”

  “Have you ever met a pirate?” she asked impulsively.

  “Maybe,” Wei said breezily, brushing off the query. But she saw how Shayalin’s face fell and sighed, giving in. “Yes. It’s not something you go around admitting, though. Being one or meeting one.”

  “So how did you know?”

  “They’re arrogant. You don’t break the law then show your face in here unless you’re a cocky son of a bitch. It shows—they’ve got a swagger. And they always try to run a tab, since they know they won’t be staying around long enough to pay it.”

  Shayalin couldn’t imagine willfully failing to pay one of her debts, but that might be as much from fear of what her mother would say. And pirates, she knew, did far worse than shorting people out of a few drinks’ worth of credits. “You can really tell from that?”

  The bartender snorted. “People give away far more than they realize. See the fellow at that end stool? No, don’t turn around so obviously. He’s a courier. He’s carrying something important that needs to be hand-delivered—look down.”

  Shayalin noted the small case tucked between the man’s foot and one of the stool legs so that he’d notice if anyone moved it. “What’s he doing here?” she asked.

  “Couriers
are picky about which ships they ride on. They’ve got good relationships with a lot of independent ships, but you can’t schedule your jobs with their routes perfectly all the time, and you’ll have to ride with a stranger at some point. He’s here checking out some captains in person, trying to see if they’re trustworthy. Buying plenty of drinks for others, but I only brought him the one.”

  “What about her?” Shayalin let her eyes slide over to a young woman lingering at a standing table by herself.

  “Just looking for companionship. See how she takes a look at every man who walks in? She’ll try to catch the eye of one of the better-looking ones.”

  Shayalin was impressed by the bartender’s observations. Perhaps this could be a suitable life for her, pouring drinks behind a bar, talking to people of varied origins and destinations, sussing out their stories. But no, she would never be satisfied by the thrills of someone else’s life. It was time to get on with her own.

  She drained the last of her water and set the glass on the bar. “Where’s the Alioqui docked?”

  “Lower quadrant, past the Cyclops being repaired. Can’t miss it,” Wei said. “Be careful on your way to Urioq.”

  “Thanks.” She practiced a cocky smile on her and left the bartender shaking her head.

  It took her an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to reach the lower quadrant, with so many identically smooth walls and little clue as to which doors led to private spaces or to public elevators. But once she made her way down and to an outer corridor, the bartender was right—the view was filled with the skeleton of a battleship, a repair crew busy along its metal joints and skin.

  The sight was disconcerting. For all her obsessing about ships, she’d thought of them foremost as a way of getting off Centuris and less as a collection of mechanical parts. It was like witnessing a dream in the middle of assembly. But not her dream, not yet. And she didn’t want something the size of a Cyclops, anyway. Too unwieldy.

  As though she could be choosy at this point, she thought wryly, and walked to the next dock over.

  The merchant ship there was considerably smaller and shabbier, but Shayalin immediately felt more comfortable about it. It carried its age with the air of a vessel a bit worn but still cared for—the sheen of its metal had faded, but its name was freshly painted. Well-loved, her mother would have described it. Several people were involved in loading its hold, and one man stood at the bottom of the ramp, consulting a tablet. He had a familiar calm air amidst all the movement.

  “Mohit?”

  He turned and broke into a smile. “Shayalin. Couldn’t beat our price, eh?”

  “You won on charm too,” she admitted.

  “Hope you didn’t run into any trouble,” he said, his face concerned.

  “I took care of it,” she said. “Or rather, Wei did.”

  “Good woman. I hope you tipped her well.”

  “Tipped her?”

  He chuckled at her bewilderment. “Never mind, I suppose they don’t do that where you’re from. She’ll figure that out. But we should settle up—our policy is half up front.”

  She produced her chip, and he trotted over to a console where he ran the exchange of credits through. She declined to look at her balance, knowing it would be far less than she’d like.

  “Welcome aboard the Alioqui,” he said with a broad smile. “Or rather, you can head in now or take a look around the station for—” he checked his chrono, “—the next six hours. We’re just about to get the last of our cargo in early.”

  It was tempting to explore further, but the thought of bumping into Jayce quelled that notion. She owed him so much—an explanation, a farewell and even congratulations—but she just couldn’t bear to face him right now, especially after the way she’d up and left him in kneejerk panic. She summoned a shaky smile to cover up her inner turmoil. “In, then. I’m tired from running around and trying to find a bargain.”

  He led her to her cabin, modestly sized and furnished with little more than a berth pulled out from the wall and a comm unit. “It’s not much,” he said apologetically. “Aequitus-class ships are really meant for mid-sized cargo loads, not luxury cruises. But you only need to be in here for departure, landing and the slip. We’re a friendly bunch, so feel free to wander around the ship otherwise. There are a few other passengers too.”

  She noted this last with interest. She’d met some offworlders in the spaceport through Jayce, but people who chose to go to Centuris generally didn’t have colorful stories behind why. “Thanks, Mohit,” she said.

  Shayalin stashed her bag, but the space was so small she accidentally keyed on the comm doing so. It chirruped at her invitingly.

  Why not? She keyed in a search for information about Kennick Bailey and was flooded with newsfeed articles. Raid after daring raid… He’d caused some serious mischief, and had never been apprehended.

  So how had her mother snared his interest? A pirate was hardly the kind of man who would say he’d share the next harvest-time with her and everything in between, which was how the Steaders promised marriage.

  Shayalin was tempted to send her mother a message, to confront her with the truth and ask a tangle of questions, but she’d lied to Shayalin for eighteen years. Why would she do differently now?

  Instead of keying in her mother’s address, she looked up the Alioqui. The ship had served proudly for a good number of years, all under the same captain. Mohit was listed in the crew manifests from the start, as well. The routes the ship ran were unremarkable, but it had a good record of completed runs on time. She started reading about Aequitus-class specs. Jayce had always wanted a sleek fighter, but she hadn’t seen anything wrong with a trader ship, not when that was what her father had supposedly flown.

  She couldn’t think about Jayce now. She stabbed at a random word on the screen, and it pulled up the corresponding entry on the vulnerability of trade routes to piracy.

  She only thought to check her data limit after flipping through a hundred different screens, following link after link. To her delight, there was none for newsfeeds. Access on Centuris terminals had always been throttled after a stingy allowance was exhausted.

  She could have stayed there forever. Terminals on Centuris contained only approved texts, not this infinite bounty of information. But her stomach growled, and she realized she’d been reading through articles for at least a couple hours. Meals were included in standard fare, weren’t they? She squeezed her way out of her cabin and wandered through the ship, hoping she’d come across a kitchen.

  A crewmember nodded in a friendly way as he passed her in a corridor. “Hal beemkani mosa’adatuk?”

  “Hi,” she said, embarrassed. She’d done poorly in her language studies.

  He grinned. “Sorry, bad guess on my part. Can I help you? You look a bit lost.”

  “I’m hoping to find food,” she confessed.

  “You almost made it on your own! The mess is just farther down this way and hook a left.”

  “Thanks,” she said, and followed his directions.

  There were various snacks set out on a table, almost none of which Shayalin recognized. Seated there was a woman with a long, dark braid and flowing garb, sipping a beverage. She glanced up and smiled a welcome at Shayalin, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Looks like Mohit’s charming aboard all the ladies.”

  Shayalin sat on the bolted-down bench across from her. “You’re a passenger too?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Thana Akbari. I’m a travel agent on vacation, so you know you’re on a reputable ship.”

  “I’m Shayalin Cho. If I’d met you earlier, you could’ve saved me a lot of talking in bars,” Shayalin said ruefully. She reached for the most exotic-looking food—something like a starfruit crossed with an eel—and took an exploratory bite. It was both tart and sweet, and chewier than she’d been expecting.

  “That’s what we do,” Thana said. “We save people the time and trouble of asking around.” She cocked her head. “I fl
atter myself that I’m one of the best here, but there are a few on the station you could’ve used even though I fled my office early.”

  “I didn’t know about travel agents,” Shayalin said. When the woman’s eyes widened, she added defensively, “I’ve lived in a Steader colony all my life.”

  “No, I can’t say I’ve had many Steader clients,” the woman said slowly. “They usually don’t leave their hearths, do they? Well, good for you, getting away. That couldn’t have been easy.” She laughed suddenly. “You can tell I’m not in vacation mode yet, because I just had to stop myself from telling you about all the glorious places you should visit.” She raised a hand to forestall Shayalin. “And I won’t, because I really do want to get away from work. You’ve done fine so far, and you can look up a good agent in Balba. I don’t think anyone would turn down the chance to work with a Steader—we usually have to deal with the jaded travelers who’ve been to every spoke of the Wheel. It’s nice to get a client who wants something different.”

  Shayalin couldn’t imagine walking up to a travel agent and asking for the swiftest route to her father. On second thought, why not, if she just asked the right way?

  “So they know the safest ways to travel?” she asked. “Away from unstable routes and pirates?” To avoid pirates, you’d have to know their haunts.

  Thana hesitated. “The reputable ones will steer you right,” she said. “Just be careful. Some of the shadier agents forward their information on to pirates, I’ve heard. It’s how they find their targets. Don’t get aboard anything that looks like it has important people or cargo.”

  “How can I tell?”

  “The station master’s a good resource. He has all the cargo manifests, so he can tell who’s carrying goods that need special handling or rushed delivery. That’s like honey to pirates. And couriers are usually carrying something valuable, but then again, they tend to know the most reliable routes, so that’s a mixed signal.”

  The seed of an idea took root in Shayalin’s mind. “Is there a way to check which agents are reputable?”

  “Honestly, the best way’s to get a recommendation from a satisfied customer. I get most of my business from referrals. Failing that…” She shrugged. “If you’re not sure of an independent, then go to a big chain. They won’t get you the cheapest prices or offer the most original ideas, but they’re dependable.”