"The part plant on other side of the door is turning color now, telling visitors be here. Then—"

A more modern electronic sound interrupted—a scanner. Then a very reedy Cassrian voice, obviously untrained to standard speech, announced irritably, "The Trassle Trading Company went out of business this morning. Creditors can see the Count's governor."

"We're not creditors!" called Krinata before the speaker could click off. "We're friends of Trassle."

Another untrained voice said, "Not any we know. Identify yourselves or get off our property."

Very quietly, but still in Skhe accent, Rndeel said, "Jindigar sent us to help."

"That kind of help—"

Another voice, trained to the single-toned modulation of Standard speech, said, "Let's hear them first. Let them in."

Krinata could almost see silent objections exchanged by gesture, but then the door swung open into a huge, tumbled and chaotic room.

Stepping in behind Krinata, Rndeel swore fiercely, and demanded, "Trassle, what be happening here?"

"Vandals, maybe," answered the cultured, trained voice. It came from a middle-aged Cassrian dressed in tough hiking clothes, but his decorated carapace gleaming. The others, Krinata noted, were similarly dressed, and amid the clutter and disarray she found several carrysacks half-packed.

Rndeel said, "Privacy shields working?"

"How do we know," asked the elder female with the untrained voice, "that you aren't sent by the Count to collect evidence that we're traitors?"

Trassle said, "They've already got all the evidence they need. Now, you. Who are you, Lady Captain?" He gestured to Krinata.

She looked to Rndeel. They hadn't discussed how to play this, but the Skhe was peering about at the room not showing any sign of introducing himself as he had with the Dushau. She assumed he felt they might be overheard here, whereas on the ship, where she could issue an order the crew was bound to obey, they'd actually had privacy. This place had been invaded, probably by the Count's order. Any sort of surveillance devices could be snooping on them now.

"I'm a fugitive of the same law you've run afoul of," said Krinata. "And I know where Jindigar is. He's found a place for us to wait this out, and invites you all to come with us."

Suddenly, they were all talking at once, the two adults, the four children. Trassle pierced through the cacophony with a whistle, then said, "We've got to make a quick decision. They could sweep in here at any moment." To Krinata, he added, "We were going to lose ourselves in the wilderness. But you're saying you can get us offplanet?"

"There are risks," she warned.

"People're dyin' everywhere," said Rndeel, "just for givin' a friendly orbit to a Dushau. We be plannin' a run through the fire to safety, an' be glad o'the company."

"Offplanet, where? I've got my children to think of. Cassrians don't survive well everywhere."

"Jindigar says," said Rndeel, "you be uncomfortable where we be goin': bit more gravity, bit less light, swifter seasons, shorter days—but not more than Cassrian colonists adapt. Children be to thrive."

Trassle twitched his head to focus on his wife. She said fretfully, "I wish now you'd never saved Jindigar from that radiation leak."

"Don't talk that way. You'd have done the same if you'd seen a Dushau hauling people out of a lander crash, and then collapsing in there himself. And I was steward for that flight. It was my job. We'd never have had all this," he gestured at the house, "if it hadn't been for Jindigar helping us after I couldn't work anymore."

"I know," she replied, picking things up and putting them down randomly. "It's just... how can we leave Cassr?"

Trassle examined the two visitors somberly while his eldest child went to comfort his wife, and the other three fought over packing. "It's come to a time for leaving homes." He nodded, a practiced imitation of the human gesture of assent. "We'll go with you, but only if you can prove you're really from Jindigar."

Again Krinata looked to Rndeel, expecting him to reveal himself. But perhaps he wouldn't to spare Trassle's wife the embarrassment, after what she'd said. Rndeel quietly mentioned the sum of money the family still owed Jindigar. Krinata paled. He certainly hadn't earned that much from Oliat fees. But then he was a prince.

Decisively, the merchant extracted a viewer from a watertight pack. "No matter what, get this to Jindigar. It proves Rantan Zinzik himself caused the food shortages on space stations and conspired with the Tri-Species Combine to set up their 'secession' from the Allegiancy so he could 'solve' the problem and be acclaimed Emperor."

"What?" Rndeel triggered the reader display and stared.

Krinata stared over his shoulder at the affidavits. They seemed genuine. Could this be why Zinzik was so intent on creating domestic chaos? So he could accuse anyone who came forth with this evidence of being a Dushau sympathizer and have them executed? No! It would mean the Allegiancy had fallen into the hands of a criminal.

"Be it he unhas sanity," commented Rndeel, glumly. "Where 'ur be find this?"

"The Interstellar Merchant Trust began investigating because we were accused of causing the shortages by not delivering on contracts. There are ten copies—one of them has to come to public—"

Just then a roar shook the house. The female clutched her young children to her while Trassle and his eldest, a male, dove down a spiral ramp. Their voices rose up the well. "Six of the Count's armed landers are settling in front of the house!"

Rndeel glanced hesitantly at Trassle's wife, then shot down the rampway, tying the viewer to his harness. Krinata was close behind. Below, a room lined with instruments was filled with light. The image of the front of the house from outside was projected on a round platform, and Krinata could see clearly the six military vehicles converging on them. The first to ground was already disgorging Cassrians.

"Be a river exit?" asked Rndeel.

"And a bottomship we'd planned to use."

"They be blocking our car," Rndeel said. "We to use your ship."

Stricken, Trassle stared at Rndeel. Then he tore up the ramp and threw down packs, sending his family down after them. The eldest son picked up a pack, and set off towing the youngest son. In moments, they were in a dark, down-spiraling, damp tunnel leading into a boathouse where a small submersible was tied beside a sailing craft. Trassle pushed his family into the bottomship, and turned to Krinata. "Quickly, Lady Captain."

They could hear shouts as the upper door was broken in. Rndeel grasped Krinata's elbow and propelled her into the submersible where the oldest son already had instruments singing in audible Cassrian code. As Trassle secured the hatch, Rndeel shoved Imp into Krinata's hands, swung into the helmsman's seat and set them to sinking.

The craft was a mere pleasure boat: transparent domed, plushly appointed. Krinata held her breath as water burbled up over her head, then forced herself to breath the flower-scented air now laced with Skhe stink.

Trassle moved to the-helm. "Thank you, I'll take it."

Rndeel turned to look up at the Cassrian. "With your permission, bottomship Captain, I'm being greatly experienced with such craft, and no pleasure jaunt be facing us."

"But how can you read..."

Rndeel turned back to the helm and whistled something in the clicking shrieks of Cassrian language. That stopped Trassle, but Krinata could see how sorely puzzled he was. A Skhe wouldn't have hearing in the Cassrian range. Apparently, the onboard Sentient wasn't smart enough to switch navigation codes, so Jindigar had to talk to it in its own language. Perhaps Arlai was helping? Trassle sat beside Krinata, clicking to his wife who huddled shaking.

Again Krinata eyed the transparent dome. One hit would rupture them. "They'll question the house Sentient," Krinata said. "They'll find out we just left, and where we went."