Knowing that, we'll need to get visual confirmation of which Bowie we're dealing with-and that may take some time."

"She doesn't have time," Thornbuckle said. "We have to find her . . ."

Barin saw the sidelong glances; he had heard the rumors, too. They had worse problems than a missing woman and threats against the government. Something would have to be done.

"We have field agents working on it," Grand Admiral Savanche said. "Since the Guernesi told us to expect terrorist attacks from these people, we've put out specific warnings to law enforcement on all orbital stations, shipyards, and in the larger cities."

Zenebra, Main Station

Goonar Terakian had come into the Rusty Rocket for a quiet conversation with his cousin Basil Terakian-Junos, out of the hearing of their other relatives and shipmates. They had business no one else needed to hear. Midweek, mid-second shift, they might have been lucky enough to find the bar empty except for Sandor the bartender and possibly Genevieve. Genevieve, Sandor said, was off somewhere shopping. But the bar wasn't empty. Propped against the bar was a young man whose shipsuit bore an unfamiliar patch, but his condition was all too familiar.

"You don't have a clue what's coming to you," the young man said. He was very young, and very drunk. Terakian ignored him, and ordered for himself and Basil. Perhaps the young fool would go back to talking to himself.

But he didn't. When Terakian moved to the far end of the bar with Basil, the young man followed.

"The blow is about to fall," the young man said. He had an accent you could slice for baklava.

"And yet you walk in darkness, unaware."

"Go away," Basil said.

"You will not give the orders then," the young man said. "It will be too late for you, then."

Terakian looked past him at Sandor, who rolled his eyes but said nothing. Drunks are drunks, an occupational hazard. But the Terakians were old customers, so he approached the young man. "Are

you drinking or talking?" he asked.

"Gimme another," the young man said. He swayed slightly but he wasn't out yet, and Terakian figured he wouldn't remember anything anyway.

"About the Vortenya contract," he said to Basil, turning his back on the drunk. "What I heard from

Gabe on the Serenity Gradient is that they're planning-"

The drunk tapped his shoulder, and Terakian turned angrily. The drunk shook a finger in his face.

"You don't know what's coming to you," he said again.

"What are you talking about?" Terakian said, more than a little annoyed. "All I know that's coming

to me is a half share in the ship when my uncle dies." He grinned at his cousin, who grinned back.

"Issa secret," the young man said. "But you'll know. You'll all know."

"Sounds like a threat," Basil said. "Oooh . . . I'm so scared . . ."

"You better be," the young man said. His bleary gaze focussed again. "All you . . . abominations."

"Egglayer!" Terakian's cousin said. He had a temper, and the scars to prove it.

But the young drunk didn't rise to that insult. He smiled an ugly smile. "You'll be sorry. When

the stations blow, and the wrath of God smites-"

"Here now," Sandor said. "No god-talk in this bar. If you want to fight over religion, do it somewhere else."

The young man pushed himself back from the bar, took a few unlevel steps, then folded over and

vomited copiously.

"I hate righteous drinkers," Sandor said, reaching for the vacuum nozzle racked behind the bar.

"They can't hold their liquor." He looked at Terakian and his cousin. "You ever seen him before?"

"No," Terakian said. "But there's been a few of those patches around the last day or so, over in D-

dock."

"Well, stick your head out and see if you spot any station security while I clean up. Don't want

any trouble with the law for having served to a minor or something." Sandor yanked on the vacuum hose, and hauled it around the end of the bar toward the mess.

Terakian, who came through this station every two months, regular as clockwork, knew most of the

station employees. He glanced down toward Friendly Mac's Exchange & Financing, and saw Jilly Merovic on her beat. He waved; Jilly waved back, and crossed the corridor, moving at her usual quick walk.

"Jilly's coming," he told the bartender.

"Good." Sandor had already sucked up most of the vomit, but the young man was sprawled unconscious. "Help me turn him over, will you?"

"Leave 'em face down, our ship medic says," Basil said.

"Well, then, pick up his head so I can suck up the rest of the puddle." Basil grimaced, but pulled

the young man's head up by the hair as Sandor passed the vacuum intake under his face.

"What's going on?" Jilly asked from the doorway.

"New customer-he drank too much, threw up, and passed out on me."

"Um. You get his ID?"

"It said he was twenty-seven."

"All right, Sandor, I'm not accusing you of selling to minors. I just wanted to know if he had any

medicals."

"Nothing stamped."

Jilly squatted beside the sprawled figure, then glanced up at Terakian and his cousin. "Either of

you know him? Did he seem distressed?"

"No, we didn't know him, and he seemed drunk," Basil said. Terakian gave him a warning look; Basil

was the kind to resent the interference of fate. They could always do their business later, if he didn't cause enough trouble to get them noticed.

"He was making threats," Terakian said. "Called us abominations, and said we'd get what was coming

to us."

Jilly had opened the man's ID packet but she looked up at that. "Abominations? Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Yeah. And something about stations blowing up. Typical mean drunk, is what I thought. Probably

his captain told him off, or his station molly took up with someone else."

"Ever hear of a ship called the Mockingbird Hill?" Jilly asked.

Terakian shook his head. "No . . . what is it?"

"An unaffiliated trader. This is Spacer First Class Todd Grew." She scanned the ship patch on the

man's arm, then looked at the readout on her handcomp. "Mockingbird Hill all right, and she's berthed in D-dock. Paid up a thirty-day docking fee, and her cargo is listed as light manufactory."

"Aren't you going to call his ship for transport back?"

Jilly gave Basil a look that chilled Terakian to the bone, though he got only the edge of it. "No.

Ser Grew deserves only the best medical treatment. You two keep watch on the door-if you see