“Just like that.”

“Just like that. That’s when I know to move. I feel the currents move and I go. It keeps me alive.”

She stood up, thinking about the law: there was that kind of look on her face. Thinking about conscience, one way and the other. About police.

“I’ll tell you,” he said, and rolled over on his side, searching for his clothes. He located them on the floor and sat up, swung his feet out of bed to dress. “Reilly—I don’t like it to go sour like this. I swear to you—any way you like—I know you’re worried about it. I don’t blame you. But that ship’s mine. And that’s the truth.”

“I don’t want to listen to this. I’m Helm, you hear me, and I keep my hands clean. We’ve got our Name, and I swear to you, mister, you crowd me and I’ll protect it. I’m sorry for you. And I’ll believe what you’ve told me in the hope that once a day you do tell the truth, and that I don’t need to pass the word about you on the docks, but I don’t think I want to hear any more about it than I have. And I don’t think I’ll be meeting you elsewhere. I don’t think you’d better plan on that.”

“You wait a minute. Just wait a minute.” He pulled his clothes on, caught at disadvantage, zipped the plain coveralls and caught his breath and his dignity. “Listen—I’m sorry about that mess on the docks. It was crazy. I never—never intended that I didn’t expect them to be crazy here.”

Pell Operations is always on vid.—You didn’t know that. You know how you sounded, coming in? Like a crazy man. Like someone crazy aiming a ship at the station; and then like somebody in trouble… it was on the news channel, and thousands of people were punching in on it. Misery, Stevens, it’s Pell. Alliance captains are coming in here, big Names, flash ships… Finity’s End and Little Bear, one after the other. Winifred. Pell folk know the Names. And some of these free souls don’t take to regulations and some of them have privilege with a capital P. When something comes in like you came—they appreciate style, these Pell stationers. And being stationers they’re just a little ignorant about what a stupid move you pulled and what dice you really shot out there at Tripoint You’ve got a death wish, Stevens. Deep down somewhere, you’re self-destructive; and you scare me. You’re trouble. To me. To yourself. To a system full of ships and a station full of innocent people who had the good-heartedness to worry about you after they realized you weren’t going to hit them. They think you did it on skill. On dockside they think something else. They think you’re an ass, Stevens, and I’m embarrassed for you, but I got you in here because I was stuck with you after that scene on the docks; because you at least had the conscience to warn Dublin when you risked our lives at Viking, and my Old Man called me in on the carpet and looked me right in the eye and asked me what you were. When this liberty’s over or before, I’m going to have to go on the carpet again and answer why I got Dublin involved with you. And I still don’t know.”

He stood and took it. It was the truth. It was all the things that had shivered down his backbone when he came in. “I’ve done the like before,” he said in a quiet voice. “I told you that Sometimes I’ve had to do it I’ve had no choice. I came in high in the range. But I miscalculated myself, not the ship; too long on the dock at Viking, too little sleep, too little food—I wasn’t fit for it; that, I admit to. But the solo runs—Lucy’s not Dublin. I bend the regulations. That’s how someone like me has to operate. You’ve got to sleep; you do it on auto, wherever you are. You’re redlighting and you’ve got to see to it; and you run on auto. And you have to know that, even on Dublin, you have to know that all those marginers like me, we’re running like that. It’s not neat and failsafed. I thought I could do it. And I did it on luck at the end, and I should have let you pass me at Viking. I wanted out of there. If I’d delayed my run when I had a clearance—there were questions possible. And I went, that’s all.”

“And the interest in Dublin?’’

He shrugged, arms folded.

“You make me nervous,” she said.

“You. I wanted to see you.”

She shook her head uneasily. “Most can wait for that privilege.”

“Some don’t have that much time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A second shrug, less and less comfortable. “I don’t stay in one place very long. And I’ll be gone again. I’ll stay low till you go. I think that’s about the best thing I can do under the circumstances. When you pull out, I’ll set about getting myself out of this. But no mention of Dublin. I promise that.”

She stared at him sidelong, a good moment. “I’m not posted. You understand—my getting involved here—can keep me from being posted. Ever. It’s not a lark, Stevens. It was.” She walked to the door, looked back. “I’ve got maybe ten thousand I can lay my hands on. I can maybe keep you clean here, if you take that and pay your dock charge and clear out of Pell. Understand me, it’s all I can get. I’ll be another year working off the last thousand of it But I want you off Dublin’s record. I don’t want you in trouble again until somewhere a long, long way off our trail.”

He shook his head, his mouth gone dry. He hurt inside.

“Blast you, there’s nothing more you can get.”

“I don’t want your money. I don’t want your help. I’ll take out of here. I can pay the dock charges, and I’ll take out.”

“With what?”

“That three thousand. Maybe I can get a little cargo on the side. I’ve got, well, maybe a little more than that.”

“How much worth of cargo?”

That’s my business. You answer questions to strangers about Dublin’s holds? I’d think not.”

She set her jaw. “I want you out of here.”

“Tell your Old Man I’m going.”

“I’ll tell you you’re taking the ten thousand. You’re going out of Pell with some kind of a load, mine and yours together, that at least looks honest And you forget the debt. Don’t try to pay it. Don’t talk about it. Or me. Or I go to station authorities.”

“I understand you,” he said very quietly. “I’d take your ten. And I’d promise to get it back to you, but I don’t think you’d believe it. And it wouldn’t be the truth. You’re throwing it away, Reilly. I very much doubt I’m going to clear this dock at all.”

“Someone here you know?”

“More than likely someone here that knows me. It’s the publicity, Reilly. I’m usually a lot quieter.”

“What,” she asked in a lowered voice, “can they get you for? What’s the worst?”

“Bad debts.”

“Less than likely any merchanter would go to the police on that score. But something else—”

“I’m not one of the Names. They don’t know what I might be. A pirate. They could think that. But I’ll tell you the whole truth this time. I’ve got two thousand cash I’m not declaring. For dock-side deals.—And fourteen thousand worth of WSC money in gold under the plates. That’s why I ran out of Viking like my tail was afire.—Look, this stationer there, this clerk—I had to deal; he could have blown it all. It wasn’t my idea. So I have the money. I can pay dock charges and I can deal for cargo.”

“With sixteen lousy contraband thousand?”

“You think ten more is going to help? No. And if they catch me, you can believe they’re going to inventory everything I’ve got; and they’d find me with more scrip than I’m supposed to have; and ten thousand in Pell currency, right? One question to comp and they’d have those serial numbers and a ten thousand transaction in your name. Take it from me. I know the routines.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“So you keep it. Against my problems, it’s nothing, that ten. I’ll get out of it my way.” He picked up his jacket and put it on, checked his papers in his pocket. “I’ll go take care of the finance, go to station offices. You just call it quits and go hang out with your cousins and say it’s all nothing. Find somebody else to sleep-over with and publicize it, fast. That’ll kill it I know how to cover a trail. That, too.”