"You can give me work!" Jael snapped, ignoring his intimation. She was suddenly aware of an increasing number of people looking in her direction, but she no longer cared. "Onthis side," she said, a little more softly. "I've earned it."

The steward's eyes narrowed.

"My ratings are good enough."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"You know they're good enough." She was pushing her luck, she knew. But what did she have to lose?

"I'll see what I can do," he muttered, and turned away.

She started to call after him. But the steward had already dismissed her. She returned to the lounge and took a seat in silence. Almost, she made the room go away by retreating to her inner mind, but something told her not to let it go that easily; even as she called to mind happier images, she kept one eye on the steward's corner. She would not let him think that she had quit, or forgotten.

The next three hours pa.s.sed slowly indeed.

"LeBrae." Poke."Jael." Poke.

Her eyes flew open. She was being nudged awake in her chair by the young rigger she'd seen the other day, Toni Gilen. "What? What is it?" she murmured.

"Over there." Toni was pointing in the direction of the registration area. "They asked me to come getyou."

"Who did?" Jael asked. But she already saw who Toni was pointing at. Beyond the lounge area, the steward she'd talked to was standing beside a large, bearded man dressed in a black tunic-length vesta robe over loose black pants. They were discussing something, and glancing in her direction. "They want to see me?" she asked Toni.

The younger rigger's eyes widened, and she took a seat without saying anything more.

Very well, then, Jael thought. They want to see me. She straightened her clothes and strode toward the two men.

"Is this the one?" the large man asked the steward as she approached.

The steward's lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. "This is Miss LeBrae."

"LeBrae?" said the other man. He nodded, as though in thought. "What's your first name, Miss?" he asked, in a gravelly voice.

"Jael. Jael LeBrae," she said. "Qualified for Cla.s.s Three single and Cla.s.s Five multiple." Her voice trembled slightly, and she struggled to keep it steady.

The shipper pursed his lips. "Would you be interested in flying a Cla.s.s Three single, Jael?"

Her heart thumped, and she almost squawked, Yes! But caution made her swallow the urge, and she stammered, "Could you tell me ... please ... the particulars on your ship?" She glanced at the steward, who was supposed to act as the provider of such information.

The steward's gaze was guarded, but his voice was needle-sharp. "I thought you were anxious to fly."

"I'll tell you everything you want to know," the shipper boomed, interrupting. "My name is Captain Deuteronomous Mogurn, and I'm flying a freighter,Ca.s.sandra. She's out in docking bay 27 right now, ready to go as soon as she's crewed."

"And your cargo?" the steward intoned, fulfilling his role sarcastically.

"Artifact goods of substantial value," Mogurn said with a wink. It wasn't clear whether the wink was meant for Jael or for the steward. But the cargo description was as much as he was required to give, and no more. No specifics were required to be given the rigger, though there was no reason to expect secrecy, either.

Jael blinked, considering his answer. "And ... your registry information?"

The two men exchanged glances. Then Mogurn slowly smiled. "Perhaps we should step over here to discuss that," he said, gesturing away from the rigger area.

Jael froze, and for the s.p.a.ce of perhaps three seconds, she was aware of nothing except the pounding of her heart. What did that mean? Unregistered? Registry stewards were not supposed to engage in solicitation for unregistered shipping. Was someone being paid off here?What are you doing to me?

The two stood waiting for her response, their expressions betraying nothing. She tried to find her voice, and at last managed, "Why can't we talk about it here?"

For an instant, the two men seemed taken aback. Then the steward's smile widened slightly, and he answered, "Well, Miss LeBrae, what we're offering you is something a little different. And you have todiscuss it over there - if you want to go to s.p.a.ce, that is."

I told you, she whispered to herself, then realized that she hadn't spoken the words aloud. She cleared her throat. "I don't want to fly unregulated. I said that before."

"This isn't, perhaps, what you think it is," Captain Mogurn said in a dry voice. "Won't you even hear us out?"

As she looked back at him, she couldn't tell whether she should dismiss him out of hand or not. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hear what he was offering; after all, no one could force her to fly. "Okay," she mumbled reluctantly, and followed the shipper a short distance away from the rigger lounge. The steward bowed, and somewhat to her relief, left them.

Mogurn led her to a quiet corner, then turned, and for a moment seemed to examine her critically, looking her up and down. Jael felt her face growing warm under the scrutiny; she was aware, more than ever, of her slight stature, of her youth. After a moment he said, "Do you mind telling me, Jael, why you wish to go into s.p.a.ce?"

The question took her by surprise. She'd expected to be asked about her record, her skills - but not this, not so bluntly. How could she explain a burning desperation to fly - to see s.p.a.ce again, to witness the landscapes of the Flux? Her voice caught a little, as she tried to answer. "I suppose it's really ... the only thing that interests me."

"The chance to see all those worlds?"

"Yes ... I guess. But mostly it's the flying. It's what I'm good at. I don't ..." She hesitated.

"Don't what, Jael?"

She groped for words. "I ... don't know what I'd do if I couldn't rig." And at once she regretted her forthrightness. She didn't even know this man!

Mogurn chuckled softly. "You wouldn't turn inward like a vegetable, would you, like some of your peers?" His thick eyebrows quivered, and she couldn't tell if he was laughing at her, or at all riggers who couldn't live without their chosen work.

She shrugged indignantly.

"Well," Mogurn said, his tone changing to one of accommodation, "would it surprise you to know that I understand how you feel? That I know what it's like to want, even toneed to do something? That something like that got me into s.p.a.ce in the first place?" He stroked the front of his vesta robe, scowling.

A slight twitch had appeared in the corner of his left eye, and he rubbed at it for a moment with his fingertips. "This is all a long-winded way of saying, maybe you shouldn't lump all shippers in the same category. There are some unregistereds who are better than some of your fully registered shippers."

"Well -"

"There are shippers here, I imagine, that someone like you should never come near. Registered shippers.

People who would use you and throw you out like an old dog when you were no longer useful to them."

Mogurn's eyes, which were blue-grey and more than a little bloodshot, squinted at her. "Stay away from those people, Jael! No good can come of dealing with them!"

She blinked, unable to answer. Of course there were shippers like that. Her own father had been one of them. Was Mogurn claiming to be different?"But don't throw the good out with the bad," Mogurn continued, gazing across the lobby. He stood beside her now, as though standingwith her. He glanced back over toward the rigger area. "It's not always so great over on that side, either."

"What do you mean?"

His breath hissed out heavily; he was a very solidly built man, but he seemed slightly asthmatic. She wondered how old he was. Fifty, maybe? Sixty? "Don't you know?" he asked. "I think you do." And he paused, as though to make the point, "Regulated, unregulated - there's no guarantee you'll be treated fairly either way. Wouldn't you agree?"

Jael flushed and nodded ever so slightly. "I guess that's sometimes true."

"Of course. We both know it. Andthe regulators know it. And yet they maintain this fiction that the only safe way for a rigger to work is within their cozy little system - where they have control!" Mogurn seemed to realize that he was speaking too loudly; he cleared his throat and readjusted the shoulders of his vesta.

Jael could not answer. She'd been thrown off balance by his a.s.sertion, but how could she deny it? The registry made a pretense of fairly apportioning jobs, but it was only a pretense, and no one resented it more than she.

"May I ask you something?"

Startled, she tried to focus on Mogurn's words; she kept drifting off into her thoughts. "What?"

He rubbed his cheek. "How old are you, Jael?"

"Why? What does that matter? I'm sixteen, local. That's about eighteen, standard."

"Yes. Well, I just wanted to point out that you cannot expect to fly all of your life. Most riggers have to stop by the time they're twenty-four or twenty-five, unless they're exceptional." He paused. "Perhaps you are exceptional. But ..."

She closed her eyes. She knew what he was going to say.

When she looked again, he was gesturing toward the lounge full of riggers waiting, pa.s.sing time, and she thought of all the boredom and frustration there, and knew he had pointed at the truth: most of those riggers would end their careers in frustration, rarely flying; and with each pa.s.sing year, many of them would slowly lose that curious, intangible inner vision that had made them riggers in the first place. "You might not have that much time left, Jael," Mogurn said in a soft growl. "And I'm offering you a chance."

She trembled, two powerful desires conflicting in her mind. Never, she had promised herself. Never would she fly with an unregulated shipper. But what if her choice was that, or never to fly at all? Which was worse? Was she being ruled even now by her father - by her reaction to him? Was she wrong to a.s.sume that all unregulateds were like him?

"And," Mogurn continued, "I'm offering even more. I'm offering something that can help you become one of those exceptional ones."

She turned. "What do you mean?"

His eyebrows arched. "I have a method, Jael. It is both a training device and a reward. Riggers on many other worlds compete for it - a way to enhance their skill, to improve the odds. You've been at anunfair disadvantage here - but I can help you, if you fly myCa.s.sandra. And that is a promise that I'll wager none of these others" - and he jerked his head toward the registry area - "can offer."

Jael drew a sharp breath, her suspicion conflicting with her curiosity ... with her desire, flaming in her heart. "I ... don't know." A way to improve her chances in the future? She at least ought to consider it.

Shouldn't she? "Can't you tell me more about what it is?"

Mogurn sighed impatiently. "Can I tell you what love is, Jael? Or life? You have to experience it, to know. And now you must display some courage, and the will to fly!"

Jael looked away from him, stalling.

"Don't be undecided too long, Miss LeBrae," Mogurn warned. "I subscribe to a shipper's code of ethics. But I need a rigger for my ship, and soon. If you are not interested in flying, I must seek another. I have little time, and I have given you much of it already." Mogurn's eyes seemed to bore into hers.

A hundred thoughts flew through her mind: all of her vows, her hopes and doubts and fears, and her determination to fly. She gazed at the rigger lounge and saw the steward who had brought her to Mogurn. He saw her, as well, and his eyebrows went up as he turned away, as though saying, There will never be a job for you here, not on this side. And she felt a renewed rage and frustration, and for a moment, she felt utterly incapable of decision. Then her determination burned through again, and she drew a slow breath.Which is more important - some self-defeating vow, or flying? She remembered her father standing over her, saying, "Never pity yourself, Jael! Seize the moment!" She never thought she would take her father's advice, but as she looked back up at Mogurn, she heard herself saying, "I want to know more about your ship before I say yes or no. Do you have the specs and service records for me to see?"

A smile twitched at the corner of Mogurn's mouth, and he nodded. "Of course. If you'd like to come with me, you can review everything." And Jael swallowed and drew herself to her full height and followed him across the lobby.

Four.

Departure.

She met Dap on her way out. She was just tucking her flight contract into her tunic pocket when she saw him approach.

"Jael, wait! Please," he said, falling into step beside her. "Can I talk to you - please?"

She paused in midstride and looked at him, frowning. She no longer felt angry, exactly, just distant.

"About what?" She started walking again, more purposefully than she had walked in a long time.

"Well, I don't ... I just ... just want to apologize," he stammered. "Jael, I know I was rude the other night. I don't blame you for being mad."

"Good," she sighed.

"But I wish ... I wish you hadn't walked off like that! I could have explained why I was ... anyway, I'm really sorry."

"Yes. So you said before," she answered, not meeting his gaze."I guess you don't believe me, but at least let me try to explain!"

"I believe you," she lied. "I'm very sorry, Dap, but I've just signed onto a ship and I have to get ready to leave. Maybe I'll see you when I get back."

That stopped him in his tracks. She barely glanced back at him as he hurried to catch up again. "You got a job? That's wonderful! I'm really happy for you. Jael, who is it with?"

That stoppedher. She sighed to herself and turned. "Do you really care?"

"Yes, of course I do!"

"I'm flying with a shipper named Deuteronomous Mogurn, and his ship isCa.s.sandra ." She had a feeling of unreality as she heard herself saying the words.

Dap's brow furrowed. "Mogurn? I don't know the name. ButCa.s.sandra. Isn't that an unregist -"

She stepped away angrily. "I know what it is. You don't have to tell me -"

"Wait - I didn't mean -Jael!" He finally grabbed her arm and physically brought her to a halt. "Jael, you aren't flying an unregistered ship, are you? After everything you said?"

"Yes I am and would you please let go of my arm?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "But ... why?" His grip loosened.

She pulled her arm free and straightened up. "Because I want to fly and it has been made clear that that is my only avenue at this s.p.a.ceport. Is that reason enough?"

"But ... you don't have to ... you could tell them -"

"What, Dap? What? I just accepted the job and gave my word that I would be aboard in three hours. All right?" She started to walk away again, but something in his expression made her pause and look back at him.

He nodded and said softly, "I guess I understand. If I had to, I suppose I might do the same." His eyes seemed to lose their focus as he gazed out over the hills. He shook his head, then focused back on Jael.

"But I really hope ..."

She waited. She didn't know why she was standing there listening to him, but she waited. "Hope what?"

she said finally.