"Actually..." Kosta hesitated. "I think Ornina told them they could knock off on the rest of the hull work until tomorrow. It's okay," he added hastily. "I can't get all my stuff wired up until tomorrow, anyway."

"I don't care if you can't get it wired until next week," Chandris growled. "I told him we wanted it as soon as possible. Tomorrow is not as soon as possible."

"I know," Kosta said. "But—"

He broke off, his eyes shifting to something over Chandris's shoulder. "Can I help you?"

Chandris turned around, expecting to see one of the workers.

And froze.

"Sure can," Trilling Vail said genially, smiling an insane smile as he walked toward them. "My name's Trilling. I've come for my girl."

For that first brief second Kosta didn't get it. The name meant nothing, and the man's smile seemed pleasant enough.

And then, with a strange little whimper, Chandris backed hard into him... and suddenly, somehow he knew.

Chandris had been running since the first day he had seen her across that Xirrus dining room. And the smiling man coming toward them was the reason.

He caught Chandris's shoulders with his hands, steadying her as he slipped around her right side and slid himself between her and the other man. "I think you have the wrong ship," he said.

Trilling's lips didn't lose their smile. But suddenly, the lines around his eyes tightened and hardened.

And in the eyes themselves, Kosta could see an edge of madness.

"So you're the new one, huh?" Trilling commented quietly. He was still coming, his right hand stuck casually in his coat pocket. Did he have a weapon in there? Probably. Knife or gun; it didn't matter which. Trilling looked like the kind who would be at home with either one.

"He's not a new one, Trilling," Chandris spoke up. Her voice was strained and tight, but her initial shock seemed to have vanished.

"It's the kosh in the fancy building, then?"

"No, not him, either," Chandris said. "There isn't anyone new."

"Don't give me that grist!" Trilling snarled. "You walk in that place wearing one set of clothes and come out wearing another, and you're going to stand there and tell me he didn't tom you?"

"No, he didn't," Chandris said. "He really didn't, Trilling. He was just a touch. A targ. I had to dig in and soften him up. There isn't anyone new."

The madness in Trilling's eyes seemed to fade into an almost childlike happiness. "So there really isn't anyone?" he asked hopefully. "You mean it's just like it was? We're together again?"

With her shoulder pressed against his back, Kosta could feel Chandris's body tense up again. "What is it you want?" he put in before she could say anything.

Trilling looked at Kosta as if noticing him for the first time and not liking what he saw. "Are you deaf?" he demanded. "Or just stupid? Chandris is my girl. Always has been. Always will be."

"What if she—" Kosta stopped. Doesn't want to go with you, was how he'd planned to finish the question. But looking into Trilling's eyes, he suddenly realized that phrasing it that way might not be a good idea. "We need her here," he said instead. "There's an important scientific experiment we need her help with."

Trilling gave a snort, which shattered into dark laughter. "Now you think I'm stupid," he said between laughs.

The laughter vanished. "I don't like people who think I'm stupid," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm not stupid."

"We know that, Trilling," Chandris soothed, her voice starting to tremble, too. "We don't think you're stupid."

"Because you'd have to think I was stupid to think I'd rent something that glassy," he said, glaring at each of them in turn.

"It's not glassy," Chandris insisted. "Jereko has to do an experiment, and I need to help fly the ship."

Trilling leveled a finger at her. "You?" he asked. "You? Fly this?"

"Yes," Chandris said. "I can. Really."

Trilling snorted again. "And I can eat rocks for breakfast," he said scornfully. "If you can fly this thing—"

"How much, Trilling?" Kosta cut in, suddenly aware of the weight of the credit chit in his pocket. A

hundred eighty thousand ruya, free and clear.

Chandris must have been thinking the same thing. "No," she murmured urgently, clutching at his arm. "No. We can't."

"Quiet," Kosta murmured back, his full attention on Trilling. This was Chandris's life they were talking about. "I'm asking how much it would take, Trilling, for you to just turn around and walk away."

He had thought Trilling had been angry before. Now, he realized that that had just been a warmup.

Trilling took another step toward them, his face reddening, the veins in his face bulging out like he was about to have a stroke. Chandris's fingers dug harder into Kosta's arm, and for a long moment he was sure he was about to die.

"Don't say that to me again," Trilling warned, his voice as cold as dry ice. "Don't you ever say that to me again. You hear me? Don't ever say it."

The anger abruptly cleared from his face, and he smiled almost tenderly at Chandris. "Chandris is a one-man woman," he said, "and I'm a one-woman man. We were meant for each other."

"All right, Trilling," Chandris said softly. "We can be together again, if that's what you really want."

"Okay, good," Trilling said, shrugging as if it was suddenly no big deal to him. "What about him?" he added, eyeing Kosta again.

"He has something we'll want to take with us," Chandris said. "There's no need to start out broke, is there?"

Trilling's eyes glistened. "He's got cash?"

"No, but something just as good," Chandris said, her voice low and persuasive. "Something we can sell for a lot of money. An angel."

Kosta felt his heart seize up inside him. So that was what she was angling for: to get Trilling into range of the Daviees' spare angel, hoping that its influence for good could change him.

Except that that wasn't what angels did.

Only Chandris didn't know that. "Chandris—"

"Quiet," Trilling said, dismissing him with a flick of a contemptuous glance. "These angel things are worth money, huh?"

"This whole ship was built just to look for them," Chandris told him, waving a hand at the bulk of the Gazelle looming over them. "We can go inside and get the angel, then we can leave. Just the two of us. Okay?"

Trilling looked at Kosta, and a slight smile touched his lips. "Sure," he said. "Whatever you say."

Kosta swallowed painfully. The other's face wasn't hard to read. They would leave, all right, but not until Trilling had taken care of all witnesses to the theft.

"Jereko?" Chandris asked tentatively.

For a heartbeat he was tempted to grab Chandris by the arm and make a run for it. But even if they managed to get away, Trilling might decide to come back and start poking around inside the Gazelle.

And Ornina was in there. Alone.

He took a deep breath. He'd been trained, however cursorily, in hand-to-hand combat. Inside, in closer quarters, he might have a better chance. "Okay," he said, gesturing back toward the hatchway.

"Come on. I'll take you to the angel."

"Chandris can lead the way," Trilling said, pulling his hand out of his pocket for the first time. It was a knife, all right, with a short but wickedly serrated blade. "You stay back with me."

The ship was eerily quiet as Chandris led the way along the Gazelle's corridors. Kosta walked behind her, with Trilling close behind him. Occasionally the tip of the knife brushed against Kosta's shirt, sending a shiver up his back.

They reached Chandris's cabin and she pulled the angel carrying case out from under her bed. "This is it," she said, offering it to Trilling.

"Open it," he ordered, staying where he was behind Kosta.