While Toby spooned down a bowl of flavored mush larded with restorative additives, Rafe sat at his desk manipulating his security scanners. Stella lounged on the cot, uncomfortably aware of its other use.

“Station’s in an uproar,” Rafe said over his shoulder. “Casual muggings dockside, nothing unusual. Vendettas, brawls, even wholesale gang fights in dockside bars—we’re used to that, same as any station is. But blowing a docked ship—that shook everyone. Killed not just the crew, but about half the people in that sector, including the emergency response team there. Half the ships here pulled out, right then, and no one blamed ’em, though it meant we’re short of some supplies. Nothing critical, but a nuisance. Pollies’re overstretched; you know how station militia are…”

“Yes,” Stella said. She did not want his lecture on police and militia organization; she’d had it before.

“So stationers organized block defenses. Everyone knew the perps were still here, most likely, on the hunt for the boy, or for any more Vatta ships that showed up. Or ships that might be friendly to Vatta. Technically, it’s illegal, but practically speaking the pollies were glad of our help and so was station management. Longtime stationers were even able to access police armories. I’m not in that group.”

He couldn’t be, since five years before he had been somewhere else. With her, one way and another. Stella said nothing, and he went on.

“You came in on an ISC courier, I hear. You know anything about the ansible problem?”

“Only that they’re down almost everywhere, and ISC is trying to get them back up. Apparently some are fried, and others just trashed.”

“Mmm. Frying suggests sabotage to me, someone internal. What do they think?”

“I was encouraged not to ask,” Stella said. “Condition of transport. But they’d take Toby and me, if we got to them and wanted to go where they’re going next.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. Another thing I was encouraged not to ask. Eventually, I have a message for their headquarters, but I have no idea how many transfers that would be.”

“I see.” Rafe turned his chair around. “I don’t see you having any advantage to me, at the moment. What do you have to trade?”

“Sufficient hard goods,” Stella said. Of course he wouldn’t help them for nothing; this was Rafe, after all.

“I’m moderately concerned for the welfare of this station,” Rafe said. “It has been a profitable connection. However, additional security measures and lower levels of trade may cut into my profits. Seeing as how Vatta seems to be involved in causing me inconvenience, perhaps I should find another source of income.”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps we should consider a partnership,” Rafe said, studying his fingernails. “Your family is in disarray; you must need allies. I have… certain… expertise, and certain connections. You have, as you said, hard goods, and your family’s legendary expertise in trade and profit… and a trade network second to none, I understand.”

“But if we are in disarray, how can that help you?” Stella asked. “I fear you suggest a partnership in which we cannot provide a fair balance of advantage—”

“Disarray, perhaps, but I’ve no doubt—however they’ve kept you sequestered—that you have access where a… where someone like me might not. And vice versa. As I said before, Stella, we would make good partners.”

“Possibly, for a limited time. But you know, Rafe, I have other loyalties.”

“I know. So you said.” He glanced at Toby, who was now staring into an empty bowl, studiously ignoring them both. “And I can see that the survival and welfare of this boy must be a priority. What is he to you, anyway?”

“A cousin,” Stella said.

“Ah.” Rafe stretched out his legs. “Well, let’s start with keeping him safe. Does he have living family anywhere, or is this a lifelong commitment?”

“I have ears,” Toby said, not looking up. Stella grinned at this proof of Vatta spirit.

“Sorry, boy,” Rafe said. “But you were so quiet—”

“I don’t know!” Toby burst out. His eyes glittered dangerously. “I know my uncle’s dead, and everyone on the ship, but I don’t know about others—my parents—” He looked at Stella. “Do you?”

“No,” Stella said. “I know Vatta ships and holdings have been attacked in many places, but with the ansible shut down, I don’t know about your parents specifically. Still, you’re alive.”

“And we want to keep you that way,” Rafe said. The smile he turned on the boy was full of his rakish charm. “If that sat well enough with you, dial another bowl of it. We need you strong and fit for whatever comes next.”

“How do you know Stella?” Toby asked instead.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Let me count the ways… no, that’s not nice. At least you have enough blood to blush. Stella and I met some years back, and nothing more, is the truth of it. I asked her to partner me, and she refused. She wanted to get back to her family.”

“Are you the one—er, sorry…” Toby’s blush deepened with the swift embarrassment of the adolescent who has just put his foot in it.

“No,” Stella said firmly. “No, he’s not. He was after… after that.” Her heart thundered and she took a deep breath. Damn Rafe! This wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss with a youngster, even if they’d had time to explain it all. “He’s right, though. You should eat a little more, if you can.”

“And you, Stella,” Rafe said. Stella shook her head. “Suit yourself, but you need a clear head, and hunger isn’t.”

“I’m fine,” Stella said. “Good breakfast and all that.”

“So… partners?”

“You’d just close up your shop and leave?”

“Not much market for antiquities and books without a certain number of travelers coming through,” Rafe said. “Hard to get new stock, too, and the stationers have bought all they’re going to until trade picks up.”

“Rafe—what were you really selling?”

His face hardened. “My business, isn’t it?”

“Not if we’re going to partner. I have enough wolves on my tail already; I want to know what other hazards you’re bringing into this.”

He spread his hands. “None I know of. Some of the packages may have contained… additions… to the objects on the manifest, but you saw how friendly the pollies were.” He glanced again at Toby. “Perhaps this discussion could take place another time?”

“Perhaps,” Stella said. She felt exhausted; after-action letdown. “I will have something to eat, I think.”

“Good,” Rafe said. “I don’t want you to regret a decision made by low blood sugar.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Stella murmured, and smiled when he glared at her.

“What do you need from your base?” he asked. “And are you still based on the courier or do you have a rental?”

“Everything I actually need is with me,” Stella said. “I have a duffel aboard ship, though. And I’d have to let them know, if I take another route out.”

“They have room for three?”

“Probably not.” Her cabin had been cramped for one; she suspected the life support on couriers was less flexible than on tradeships.

“We’ll need to find out. Do you trust them?”

“Of course,” Stella said. He said nothing, just looked at her. She remembered what he’d said about the implications of the ansible problems. “Oh. You mean do I trust this particular courier crew?” He nodded. She thought about it. Scrupulously polite, uninquisitive just as they had been uninformative. “If they’d wanted to kill me, it would’ve been easy.”

“Yes…” That in a long drawl. “But you’re not traveling as Vatta, are you? Vatta representative, the police said.”

“They surely know,” Stella said.

“Um. Probably. And probably safe enough. But you’ll need a secure way to communicate. Something better than station lines, which are… possible to compromise.”

“Meaning you have,” Stella said. She was not surprised.