"Then let's get down to business." He leaned forward and typed rapidly. "The men weren't typical Targon Syndicate. They don't usually use obvious hit men. But it could have been bounty hunters. The price on your head is enough to tempt some of them."

I leaned back, out of his way. His fingers flew across the keys. A security screen only slowed him for a second.

"Targon wants you alive. Which is why it's strange they were shooting at you today. Ah." He stopped typing while words flowed across the screen. "Stun pellets." He hit a few more keys. A large diagram took the place of text on the screen. "We're not in Targon space anymore. Shamustel is marked off limits. Local government is too tough on thugs."

"Just what database are you into?"

"Don't ask and I won't have to shoot you," he said, typing again.

He reminded me of Tayvis when I'd run into him on Dadilan. He was working undercover and had told me something similar.

"Do you know Malcolm Tayvis?" I asked on impulse.

His hands froze over the keys. He deliberately started typing again. "Who?" he asked a shade too innocently.

"Never mind." I slumped in my chair.

"The locals have called in the Patrol to find those other men," Clark said. "We should be cleared to leave. What planets did you say we were going to?"

"Ytirus, Cygnus, and Kimmel." I picked at the blood drying on the back of my hand.

"You ought to take care of that," Clark said without even looking.

"It's just a scrape. How did you get there in time?"

"Talent of mine, riding to the rescue in the nick of time."

"Just like in your book," I said, referring to the bad romance novel I found in his chair.

He looked at me, puzzled for a second before he remembered. "Just like in the book," he said flatly and turned back to the screen.

"I'll go take care of this," I said waving my scraped hand. The blood was dry, the scrape already scabbed over. It was an excuse to check out the bag I'd seen him drop on the table on his way in.

He watched me, sudden suspicions of his own on his face. I made a big show of getting out the med kit and washing my hand. He flicked a glance at the bag and shrugged, turning back to the screen. Whatever was in the bag, he didn't care if I saw it or not.

"Isn't privacy allowed on your ship?" he asked when I pulled the bag open.

"I just want to read the sequel," I said as a book slipped out of the bag. It looked a lot like the other book, except the woman on the front was brunette. I flipped it open.

"You shouldn't read trash like that," Clark said.

"You do," I teased him. "Chapter Six, Death in the Darkness."

He muttered something about nosey women. I put the book back in the bag and closed it.

"Do you want me to put it in your cabin before Jasyn sees it?"

He swiveled the chair all the way around, looking at me instead of the screen. His eyes were opaque. He studied me, deciding something. I held the bag in my hands and watched him back. The computer beeped. He pushed a button without looking.

"Go ahead." He swung back to the computer.

I opened the door to his cabin. His bunk had a dark blue blanket on it, one of the ones Jasyn had stocked. There wasn't anything personal about the space at all, nothing to indicate who he was, what he liked. No pictures, no collections of things, not even dirty clothes. I put the bag on his bunk and left.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"With what? You keep it clean enough."

"Yes," he said, and rubbed his hands together. He typed rapidly and hit the send button. Then he grinned wickedly, his green eyes gleaming. "That should stop Targon and the others for a while. As long as we don't head back this way too soon, they should back off and leave you alone. We're heading into Cygnus sector where the government does not tolerate interference in trade." He leaned back, touching the keypad. The screen went blank.

"Who are you sending messages to?"

"Still suspicious, Dace?"

"Always. It keeps me alive."

"You've got friends, if you'll take them."

"And if they wear uniforms, I don't want them." I shoved a hand through my hair. "Are you cooking tonight or do I have to?"

He stood, standing close. Too close. I took a step back into the lounge hoping I wasn't too obvious. I liked him, no matter who he really worked for, liked him as a friend. But I didn't want him getting any closer. He pretended not to notice. He walked past me into the galley.

I went into my cabin and shut the door. I didn't own much either. The only obvious personal touch was the blanket on my bunk, the bright striped one Jasyn had picked for me. I lay down and moved my pillow. I shifted the blaster I slept with then felt under the mattress edge where I kept the note Tayvis had sent me, a scribbled bit of paper creased and worn from handling. I had a picture of him, too, a grainy shot from a surveillance camera that Leon, our lawyer, got for me.

I rolled over, punching the pillow behind me and studied the picture. Tayvis' dark hair curled just at the ends, one strand brushing across his forehead. His eyes were brown, usually warm. Not the last time I'd seen him, I remembered and wished I hadn't. He'd walked away from me, his face a mask that gave no hint of his emotions. I'd told him to go away, and meant it when I said it. I wanted to take those words back. I wanted to see him again so bad it hurt.

There was a knock at the door. I shoved the picture and note back away as the door slid open.

Jasyn leaned on the doorframe. "Just send him a note, Dace, and get it over with."

"I tried."

"No luck?" She read the answer on my face. "Cargo's here."

"I'll be right out," I promised.

She shut the door behind her. I sat up and rubbed my face. What was done and past, was done and past. I couldn't change it. I could only hope the future was better.

I went to help load ceramic collectibles.

Chapter Ten.

We lifted shortly after sunset, after eating the dinner Clark made. It was better than what I would have made, though nothing like Jasyn's cooking. The cargo filled up less than half of the holds. The police gave us polite permission to leave, which sounded more as if they were happy we were going and would we please take our problems with us when we left.

The ship had a slight wobble as we made the jump to hyperspace. I'd have to find a few hours to balance the shaft again.

"Two days and a bit," Jasyn announced as we shut down the sublight engines. "Good thing I managed to go shopping for supplies before you got arrested again." She held up her hand to stop my protest. "I'm teasing you, Dace. Just quit making a habit of getting in trouble."

"I think I'll just sit here when we get to Ytirus and fix that wobble in the thrusters." I crossed my arms.

"You want to borrow my book or have you read it already?" Clark locked in a final setting.

"You got another one?" Jasyn asked. "What can you possibly see in them?"

"Entertainment." He flipped switches over his head.

"I can think of a lot better things to be entertained by, like sleep." She yawned and tapped the nav board. "All set on auto." She left the cockpit.

Clark leaned back in his chair, watching the streaks of light on the vidscreen. "I always wondered why it did that in hyperspace. Is that what hyperspace really looks like or is it energy waves or something else entirely? Tell me you never thought about it and make me believe it. You're curious enough about everything else."

"And it gets me in no end of trouble."

He laughed "Are we friends again? Or are you going to snoop through my things when I'm not looking?"

"Why would I do that?"

"To find proof that I work for Lowell, like you keep accusing me of." He didn't sound upset, he sounded amused.

"You aren't just a pilot, like you said you were. I saw the way you handled that gun."

"I expected you to slug him, not scream," he said, referring to man number one that afternoon.

"It worked."

He rocked his chair back. "Does it really matter, Dace? Does it make that big of a difference to you if I do work for someone else?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because." I couldn't find the words I wanted.

"I'm not going to influence any decisions you make, Dace. You still decide where to go and when."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you hired me to fly your ship. Good night, Captain," he said and left me without answers.

I swiveled the chair and accessed the computer. Whatever he'd done should have left some traces that I could track. I asked for all the files accessed that afternoon. The computer beeped and brought up a whole stack of tourist videos about business opportunities on Shamustel. I couldn't help grinning, even as I grumbled with frustration. Clark was thorough.

I opened each file, thinking maybe he hadn't been thorough enough. He was. I finished the stack and sat back. It was all tourist videos, nothing like what I'd seen him going through that afternoon. No hints of who he really worked for, although the kind of information he'd gathered made me quite sure he was Patrol. I reached to turn off the computer. The message light was blinking.

I called up the message. Clark's face popped up on the computer.

"I knew you'd be checking up on me," the recording said. "So I left this for you. I asked for information on Malcolm Tayvis. His file is restricted, nobody gets information on him without going through his current commander. Sorry." The recording ended. I shut the computer off.

I sighed. I would have to wait, until chance brought us together or until I ran into Lowell again.

I dimmed the lights and went to bed. The ship was running well enough I didn't have to sit in the cockpit all night.

The trip to Ytirus went without problems, at least from the engines. Clark's book was unbelievable, boring, and not worth reading after chapter five. I handed it back to him. He took it without comment and put it in a pocket. He moved a piece on the Crystals board.

Jasyn groaned. "So much for that strategy."

I wandered, bored. I looked at the storage lockers above the cushioned bench. Jasyn had traced out a pattern of flowers but hadn't gotten around to painting them yet. I opened one of the lockers and pawed through the boxes inside.

"Where did you put the paints?" I asked Jasyn.

"For the stencils? Try under the bench."

"What stencils?" Clark asked. "Your move."

"If I can," Jasyn said. "Flowers on the locker doors. Brighten the place up a bit."

"Makes perfect sense," Clark said, and kept a straight face for about three seconds.

"It's something to do," I said as I pulled out the bin with paints in it. I picked a bright yellow and started. By the fourth flower, they started looking like flowers, not blobs of paint. At least to me.

By the time the reentry alarm sounded the next day, I'd done a whole bouquet of yellow and had moved on to blue and red.

"Not bad, if you like blobs," Clark said behind me.

"He's teasing you," Jasyn said, glaring at the back of his head as he sat in the copilot's chair. "If he's serious, he's eating your cooking for a week. They looka" She studied them while I put the paints away. "Interesting."

"They don't look like flowers?" I asked, a bit miffed at both of them.

"Not any I've ever seen," she answered truthfully.

I frowned at my masterpiece. "They don't, do they?"

"You've got paint on your nose," she said.

The ship beeped impatiently. I put the bin away and took my seat.

Ytirus was a terraformed planet, with regular bands of ocean and green land. Whoever had done the terraforming hadn't even tried to make it look natural. The landing field was its own island, surrounded by shallow blue ocean. We were given a berth to one side, away from the larger freighters.

The ship lurched on touchdown. I knew my good luck had lasted too long.

"Do you want help with the engine?" Jasyn asked as we shut things down.

"Go ahead and take care of the cargo," I said. "It shouldn't be much. I think it's just that pump and the valve. Probably stuck open."