“No!” Tommy jumped as if he’d been touched with a live wire.

“He has very special tastes,” Rafe said to the audience. “You would be surprised.” Then to Tommy, “But I think there’s a punishment to fit this crime. One particularly suitable to someone of your… type. Over here…”

Stella pretended disdain, while Rafe attached Tommy to some of his merchandise, explaining to the audience that of course Tommy would forfeit the reward he’d been promised for doing a tedious chore, but that he, Rafe, had matters awaiting and perhaps they would like to amuse themselves in the store until Tommy managed to get himself loose. If he could.

“And don’t pay any attention to his protests, of course. When Tommy’s been bad he likes to pretend he’s better than all this.” They nodded. “I’ll just shut the door on my way out, and turn the sign… everybody knows Tommy’s hours are irregular… along with other parts of his life… I am in your debt.” He put his hands together and bowed.

“We’ll… we’ll be glad to help… we… haven’t seen you before.”

“Few see me,” Rafe said. “But all remember me.”

Stella nearly choked on that one, but maintained her calm until they were outside and Tommy’s store had a big CLOSED sign facing the passage. “What were you doing in there?”

“Having fun,” Rafe said. “Surely you’ve noticed how easy it is to get people to join the right party… all you have to do is make whatever’s going on the right party. I’m assuming you got the cash and the number.”

“Of course,” Stella said.

“Then it’s back home in a hurry, and hope that our boy Toby hasn’t had to use that blunderbuss I left him with, or there won’t be much left of the shop.”

But Scurry Lane was peaceful and normally busy. Stella called Toby by implant, and he said nothing had happened.

“We’re coming in the back, Toby. Rafe’s going to pick up some food—” And some gossip, she was sure.

Ten minutes later, they were all in the upper office. Rafe peered at the new ID. “Functional, not perfect. But it should do. Stella, you’ll want to dull your hair a bit, maybe use a cheek pad. Toby will do as he is. Now to find transport…”

“There is one ship leaving today and two tomorrow,” Toby offered. “I checked while you were out. Thought you’d need to know.”

“Did I tell you to open a com line?” Rafe said.

“Good thinking, Toby,” Stella said, with a glare at Rafe. “What ID did you use?”

“None,” Toby said. “Straight open inquiry, by implant, ID hidden.” He did not quite stick out his tongue at Rafe, but his tone was sufficient. Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Two of a kind, I see. All right, Toby, who’s off today and what capacity?”

“Rose of Bannoth, Roselines Limited. Dex said Roselines were small but pretty good, just not as fancy as the Empress Lines. Mostly passenger, light cargo. She has ten berths available to Placer B, then eight to Golwaugh, and then she’s going to Lastway.”

“That’s handy,” Stella said. “Rafe?”

“We need to leave,” he said, “and this ship is leaving. I wouldn’t care if she was going to Slotter Key or Sabine. All right—I’ll book us passage. Stella, if you’ll keep an eye on the external scans… and Toby, make a list of anything you need. A little ship like that won’t have much commissary capacity.”

He opened up his secure line and got to work. Toby, after a look at the back of Rafe’s head, put on the thoughtful look that Stella knew went with accessing an implant database. Stella hoped his apprentice voyage had borne in on him the need for extra underwear, but she wasn’t going to embarrass him by mentioning it.

“I’ve got the berths, but they’re not taking credit,” Rafe said, after a few minutes. “They’ll accept hard goods, with a current appraisal, and they’re undocking in five hours, sixteen minutes. We have to be aboard in four and a half.”

“You know an appraiser, of course,” Stella said.

“Several,” Rafe said. “Let me just check with one of them—” He went back to work.

Toby glanced at Stella.

“I have a list—I don’t know if it’s too much.”

“’Port it over and let’s see…” He had remembered underwear, she saw. Three additional shipsuits, another pair of ship boots, underwear, toiletry items.

“That’s fine,” Stella said. “I think you could use more than that, though. You need your own pressure suit… a fleece jacket…”

“We’ve no time for custom-fitting,” Rafe said. “I’ve got our appraisal lined up. A couple of those rocks you had will cover your ticket and Toby’s…”

“And yours?”

“I pay my own way,” Rafe said. “Partnership.”

“Fine,” Stella said. She fished out the top pouch and shook out two of the largest. “I’ll get Toby’s kit while you’re doing that. Want me to pack for you?”

“No. I can do that in fifteen minutes. Will you have to take him out?”

“No. I was going to work through a chandler’s and order it delivered to the ship. I can draw on the existing Vatta accounts here to cover it. I’d already talked to the bank manager.”

“Good. I’ll be back shortly. I’ll call before I come in.”

Left alone, Stella measured Toby, contacted a chandler’s nearest Rose of Bannoth’s dock, and ordered his clothes, pressure suit, and the duffel to carry them charged to the Vatta account number and delivered to the Rose’s dockside. Then she contacted the Rose’s purser to find out if passengers could, or were expected to, contribute to the mess supplies. Optional, she was told, but the Rose carried standard-plus rations, not superior. Stella ordered in four sets of ration upgrades. When Toby’s appetite came back he would probably eat twice as much as she did. In Rafe’s bathroom, she found supplies to dull her hair to a more maternal shade, and tried the cheek pads, which blurred her prominent cheekbones.

Rafe returned without incident, with jewels and a current appraisal. He packed almost as swiftly as he’d said, then called the police to report his departure “until business improves” and put a large deposit with station management to reserve his space.

In less than two hours, they were on their way to 3rd Green, where the Rose was docked. Stella felt itchy all over, but nothing happened. No assassins leapt out of doorways, no shots were fired, no one accosted them for being who they were or anyone else. At the docking bay, Toby’s duffel was being inspected by the ship’s sergeant at arms; when they identified themselves by their new ID, he nodded. “Just step over there, please, and see Anson about your ticket; your berths are on hold. If you’ll leave your duffel here, I’ll check it for you.”

“Restrictions on weapons?” Stella asked.

“Ship-safe ammunition only,” he said. “No chemstun, no bios. We allow small arms only after inspection.”

“Here’s mine,” Stella said, pulling out her weapon and handing it over. Rafe said nothing, but handed over three to her one. The sergeant looked at Toby, who shook his head.

Then they lined up at the ticketing booth, where the agent approved the appraisal, put the diamonds in a lockbox, gave them a receipt, and issued boarding chips and shipboard ID tags with locators on them. “Wear these at all times,” the agent said. “That way we can find you in an emergency, and you’ll be recognized by the ship security systems. You still have a little time before mandatory boarding, if you need to purchase any last-minute items from dockside, or you can go aboard now.”

“We’ll board,” Stella said.

“Is all your duffel wanted on the voyage, or do you wish some in deep storage?”

“All wanted,” Rafe said, before Stella could get it out.

“Fine. It will be delivered to your cabins before undock. Probably a half hour, not more. If you decide to leave the ship for any reason before undock, you must inform the purser and check with me, here, where you will exchange your shipboard ID tag for a dockside locator/call button.”