The line was beginning to shrink now, the passengers showing their tickets to the reader display and attendant and disappearing down the boarding tunnel. Chandris licked her lips, wincing at the unfamiliar tart/sweet taste of expensive lipglow, and got to her feet, heart thudding in her ears as she went over and joined the line. This was it; and it was Trilling's last chance to stop her. She'd sat over in that corner for four hours straight, watching every single batch of passengers as they headed down the tunnel, making sure that Trilling hadn't slipped aboard. If he didn't make this last shuttle she would be safe. At least for now.

She reached the reader and the attendant standing beside it. "Hello," the man greeted her. For just a second his eyes skipped down across her, taking in her bright blonded hair, her even brighter lipglow, her probably botched attempt at an upper-class outfit.

And when he looked back up she could sense his quiet amusement. "And you are...?"

"Chandris Lalasha," she growled, thrusting her ticket at his face and then waving it over the reader.

"Nice to have you aboard, Miss Lalasha," he smiled. "You heading off to college?"

"That's right," Chandris said shortly. "On Lorelei." The reader pinged acceptance of her ticket, and she stuffed the plastic back into her pocket.

The attendant shook his head, a smile on his face. "Thought so. I never cease to be amazed at how inventive you college kids get with your travel outfits. Have a nice flight."

"Thanks," Chandris muttered, heading down the boarding tunnel and hoping the sudden heat in her cheeks didn't show. She'd done it again, damn it all—taken offense at an insult that wasn't even there. The same touchiness that had kept her stuck in the Barrio and out of the upper-class areas in New Mexico City where the really major tracks were. Or so Trilling had always told her—

The muscles in her back stiffened, mind suddenly snapping back to where she was. She twisted around, half expecting to see Trilling walking behind her, his shining eyes glowing, his scarred lips grinning their crazy animal grin at her.

But there were only a couple of last-minute passengers in sight, and no sound or commotion coming from the check-in counter around the corner.

She turned back, breathing again, and continued down the tunnel. At the end of it waited the shuttle, an oversized plane sort of thing with rows and rows of contour chairs. Choosing one that would allow her a clear view of the door, she let the straps curve into position around her and waited.

Trilling's absolute last chance...

Five minutes later, the door was slammed shut with a dull thud... and as the shuttle rolled away from the terminal, she felt her muscles unknotting for the first time in hours. For the first time in months.

Finally—finally—she could dare to hope that she was free of Trilling Vail.

And all it had cost was leaving the only home she'd ever known.

The trip up to the spaceliner took about an hour. An hour, for Chandris, of absolute magic.

She had ridden on a regular plane once before, but at the time had been too preoccupied with keeping inconspicuous to really appreciate it. Now, though, it was different. The wispy clouds breaking in front of the shuttle like white nothing; the buildings and hills and forests beneath them; the sensation of flying itself—she drank it all in, pressing her face tightly against the cold plastic of the window so as not to miss any of it. The ground kept receding, the highest clouds cutting off most of the view, and presently she noticed the deep blue of the sky above them was fading into black.

The dull roar of the engines faded away to a throaty whisper, leaving her bouncing gently against her straps.

She spent the next few minutes with fists and teeth clenched tightly, fighting a gut-twisting nausea and a horrible feeling that she and the shuttle were falling back toward the ground. Then, strangely, both stomach and brain relaxed and she was able to concentrate again on the view outside her window. Overhead, stars were visible in the black sky, even though the sun could still be seen off to one side. She marveled at the novelty of that for a while, shifting her attention back and forth between sun and stars.

Presently, above and ahead of them, she got her first glimpse of the Xirrus.

It didn't look like much at first; a sort of toy or model, its shadowy shape outlined by strings of little lights. But as the shuttle kept getting closer, and the shape kept getting bigger, it finally dawned on her that calling a ship like that a flying city wasn't nearly as much puff-talk as she'd always thought.

Pressing her nose against the cold window, she smiled to herself. If there was one thing the Barrio had taught her, it was how to survive in a city.

They arrived at the Xirrus a few minutes later, to the accompaniment of a lot of clanking and the sudden return of weight. Joining the other passengers, she climbed a steep set of fold-down stairs through the roof of the shuttle and found herself in a large room with a huge layout diagram of the Xirrus covering one wall. Her ticket listed her cabin number; glancing once at the diagram to get its location, she headed toward the rear of the ship.

Her roommates were already there when she arrived: three of them, middle-class as all get out, chattering away about college and other middle-class things as they moved around the room stuffing lockers full of clothes and generally checking the place out. Silently, Chandris stepped through the activity toward the fourth bed, where her small suitcase had already been deposited, and the conversation waffled a little as the others checked her out. What they saw made the conversation waffle even more. "Nice travel outfit," one of them commented from behind her, the dry tone sparking umphs of not-quite giggles from her companions. "Design it yourself?"

Chandris turned to look her straight in the eye. "Sure," she said coolly. "Had to. It's one of the requirements."

The other seemed taken aback. "Requirements for what?" she asked.

"Where are you going to school?" Chandris countered.

"Uh—Ahanne University on Lorelei," the other said, looking even more confused.

Chandris shrugged. "Well, there you have it, then."

She turned back to her unpacking, watching their quiet confusion out of the corner of her eye and revising her class estimate downward a little. Real middle-class types—or at least the middle-class types she'd scored tracks on—would have dumped right away on that kind of skidly-talk. These puffheads must be freshly moved up, smart enough to imitate middle-class mannerisms and speech but too dumb to really know what the hell they were doing.

For what she needed now, they would do nicely.

"Oh, come on, Kail," one of the others said into the silence, giving a little snort of derision. The proper reaction, Chandris thought scornfully, only about a year too late. "Look at her luggage, for gritty'sake. Probably paid for her ticket with table tips."

The third girl giggled. "Yeah," she said slyly. "Or else a more personal kind of service work."

She gave a warbling whistle, a pretty good imitation of the come-on hookers sometimes used in the Barrio, and all three laughed. "Girls, girls," the first admonished, her voice mock-severe. "I'm sure we've got her all wrong. I'll bet she's just so incredibly smart that she doesn't even care that she dresses like a sfudd. Probably gonna major in catalytic nuclear drive or politics or something equally frizzly."

Chandris kept quiet, fighting back the awful temptation to turn around and pull the little puff-head's face off by the roots. One of the girls whispered something else, eliciting another mass giggle, and the conversation resumed where it had left off. With Chandris pointedly excluded.