"Malcolm Hammurabi, Captain-Owner of the free freighter Umbra. To see Lord Dominic Rose.

Business. As was earlier agreed, my pilot and I are unarmed."

They sat quietly while someone on shore dutifully relayed this information to someone equipped to deal with it. The raft's fans droned like an idle beehive beneath the floor.

The screen flickered briefly, then cleared. An unremarkable middle-aged man appeared on the screen glass. He was trying hard not to look bored.

"You're early, Captain. His Lordship has just entered conference. I am instructed to direct you to land.

His Lordship cannot meet you there, but there will be someone suitable to greet you dockside and conduct you to the residence. Take the third slip, please."

The light faded, taking the face with it.

"Efficient S.O.B.," Takaharu said mildly. "A lot like his boss, I suspect."

"You're familiar with Rose's reputation?" Mal said, slightly surprised. "You didn't mention it before."

"Before what? I didn't expect you'd have personal dealing with him. No, friend of mine once bought an impale off thryacin from one of 'his Lordship's' dealers. For a pet doggish that had the gout. Turned out to be colored ink." The mate revved the engine, coasted around a small moored boat. "The doggish died," he added.

"Um." Mal flipped off their own tridee. "Haven't seen him myself in some time. Doubt if he's changed much. He's a funny character. As they get older, most crooks become more fearful of death. Not Rose.

He just becomes a little less moral, if that's possible."

Takaharu turned a sardonic face to his captain. "I wouldn't think so, judging from all I've heard of him."

"All things are possible. But if he's still degenerating he must be down to fractions by now. Your question would amuse him."

"And you think you can deal with a thing like that?"

Mal shrugged. "For what I want to do, I'll have to. According to the Holy Books, to quote, 'the percentage of master in the universe that is composed of intelligent organic matter is comparable to a typical human's casual expectoration in any two of Terra's oceans.' It's not too difficult to put such people in proper perspective, depersonalize them. Try to think of a rock with rabies. Here's the slip."

Throwing more power to the rear-right fan Takaharu eased the raft around and edged up onto the dull plastic mat tacked down over the sand. A tall young man waited by the side of a telescoping ramp.

Although far slimmer, almost gaunt, he was taller than Mal. Nearly two meters, he would have towered over the Mate. Dark complexion, red hair, and boyishly good-looking, Mal noticed. The youth extended a long arm to help Mal up from the cabin port, realized his error and flushed.

"Apologies, sir. I'm afraid I'm not used to this."

"Skip it, kid."

"I am to conduct you to his Lordship's residence."

"Fine. As agreed, my pilot will remain on board until my return." He waved back to a watching Takaharu, who promptly cut the engines on the raft. The craft settled gently to the landing mat as air was expelled from its cushion.

Mal turned back to his guide and with a start noticed that the ornament curled about the lad's right shoulder was more than simply well-crafted. It was alive.

Pleated wings unfolded to reveal a long neck topped by a flat triangular head. Wide yellow eyes stared down at him quizzically. The Captain took a step backwards and groped for the blaster that wasn't there.

The youth noticed the flinching movement and hastened to explain.

"It's all right, sir. He won't harm you. He's harmless. Well, tame, anyway." He reached up and began scratching the reptile on the back of the slightly ridged neck. The snake closed its eyes and relaxed, the wings refolding. "He's just wary of strangers, that's all." The youngster gestured up a slight incline. "The residence is just ahead. If you'll come..."

Mal matched strides with his guide-carefully staying on his left. He continued to keep a wary eye on the somnolent minidrag.

"That is a flying snake, isn't it? From Alaspin?"

"Yes sir. I'm surprised you recognized him. They're not often found off their native world, I understand."

"First time I've ever seen one off it. Gave me quite a turn. I believe the poison they throw is almost always fatal."

"Yes," replied the youth without breaking stride. "If the poison hits an open wound or the eyes, death usually occurs within a minute or so. If it hits bare skin or organic clothing it takes longer. It's highly corrosive, too. There is an antidote, but the chances of a victim receiving it before death occurs is slight.

The speed it kills with doesn't permit much time for turning some up."

"Not hardly," Mal replied. "I've never heard tell of a tame one."

"A fact which has been pointed out to me often, sir. It's a childhood pet. I can't remember a time when it wasn't close by me."

They were walking among a scattered complex of structures. Done in neo-landscape style, they provided excellent dispersal and natural air-cover, making good use of island vegetation. The irregular shapes were all brown and green, blending easily into the forest. Few windows could be seen. The only well-exposed structure was a single, needle-thin observation tower which poked its disc shaped crown above the top of the tallest tree. The upper surface of the disc exploded in all directions in a wild electronic hairdo. No question but that their approaching hoveraft had been visually spotted long before contact had been made.

"For a quiet, peaceable trader his Lordship takes rather extreme precautions," Mal ventured, hoping to draw some useful information from the lad.

"I cannot judge such things, sir. I have been in his Lordship's employ for yet a very brief time. By the way, my name is Philip. I am aware that his Lordship has many acquaintances who would not be displeased to see him expire in violence. So he takes care. An interesting personage."

Mal peered more closely at the youth's bland expression. "You're a perceptive young man. Yet you don't strike me as the type Rose would hire. What is your job? I might add that your off-planet accent sticks out like a solar flare."

"As to that, sir, I know it well. I've been on Repler the same short time ..."

"Damned if I can place your accent. Yet. ..."

"... but one seeks employment where one can. I did not know for whom I was to work when I took the job. One of his Lordship's subalterns hired me. I am good at my work."

"Which is?" Mal prompted.

"Well ... watch out for that branch, sir ... currently my title is 'apprentice sanitation engineer.' I work with the less popular by-products of existence. Keep finer sensibilities from contact with them. At least, that's what it says in the manual." He grinned, added by way of apology, "I'm afraid his Lordship's selecting me to greet you was a calculated offense."

Mal grinned back. "Don't let it bother you. Seeing that damned thing play arm-jewel on your shoulder makes up for it, plus some." He gestured at the deadly reptile.

They arrived by a building so well camouflaged it seemed a part of the hillside. Not the largest of the complex, it was clearly designed even from the outside as a place for living rather than for business.

The guide pressed a palm to one side of the green brown wall. A wide double panel separated with a slight hiss, offering entrance. A long alcove was revealed within. It was completely walled with bronze-inlay mirrors and carpeted in synthetic furs. They entered.

The corridor made several sharp, twisting turns,, and they descended at least one, possibly two, levels.

Several doorways and electronic portals were met and passed. Some appeared without warning in the mirrored sides. If the setup had been designed to confuse, it succeeded.

After several minutes of casual if complicated strolling, they came to a moderate-sized room. It was furnished magnificently in antique Terran. The furnishings looked like the real thing, not reproductions or fakes. But then, old Rose was probably doing well these days and wanted to show it. Mal's eye was quickly drawn to an elegant old television set. It had to be non-functional. Just the chassis was worth a small fortune. Ancient precursor of the tridee, it sat alone on its own pedestal.

At the same time that he was estimating the thing's worth in antique shops on half a dozen planets, he wondered crazily if maybe it could still be functional. A familiar young voice interrupted his musings.

"You're to wait here, sir. His Lordship will join you shortly."

Mal shook hands with the likable youngster as the other turned to depart.

"Pleasure meeting you, friend. If you've ever a mind to learn spacing, my ship, theUmbra , is listed in all the registries."

"It's always been a wish of mine, sir." For a moment the youngster's face acquired the shadow of someone -oddly- much older. It passed and he looked down at the Captain. "But now that I might make use o such an offer, I'm too busy with other things. Still, one never knows. Perhaps some day, when I've settled one or two personal things ..:' He smiled easily and left Mal alone in the room.