It took a great deal to keep his knees steady. “There ought to be something a little more than hearsay for an impoundment. And the damage to my reputation—what repairs that?”

This is Alliance space, Captain. You’re not in Union territory any longer. Alliance sovereignty. You came here of your own decision, without a visa, which we allow. But you have to have one to operate here. I’m personally sorry for the inconvenience, and I assure you Pell’s inquiry will be brief, three days at maximum. There are several merchanters in from Mariner. We’ll be talking to them. You have a right to know that the investigation is proceeding and to confront complainants and witnesses whose testimony is filed to your detriment. You have a right to counsel; this will be billed to your combine, but should the charges prove false, as I said, Pell will stand good for the—”

“I don’t have that kind of operation.” Panic crept into his voice. It was in no wise acting. “I’m an independent under Wyatt’s umbrella. I pay all my own costs and I’m barely making it as it is. This is going to ruin me. I can’t afford the time, not even a few days. That comes out of the little profit I do make, and you’re going to push me right over into the loss column. They’ll attach my ship—”

“Captain Stevens, if you’d allow me to finish.”

‘This is something trumped up by some other marginer who doesn’t want my competition.”

“Captain, this is not the hearing. You have a right to counsel before making statements and countercharges and I would advise you to be careful. There are penalties for libel and malicious accusation, and the ship making charges against you will likewise be detained, likewise be liable for damages if the accusation is proved malicious.”

“And where do I get counsel? I haven’t got the funds. Just company funds. What am I supposed to do?”

Quen looked down the table to her left. Someone nodded. “Legal Affairs will help you select a lawyer.”

“And prosecute me too?”

“Captain, Pell is the only world in Alliance territory… unless you want a change of venue to Earth itself. Or extradition to Mariner. At your hearing you can make either request. But your appointed defender should make it only after you’ve had a chance to consider all the points of the matter. I repeat, this is not the hearing. This is only your formal advisement that allegations have been made, of general character and as yet undefined, but of sufficient concern to this station to warrant further investigation. Particularly since you are Union registry, since you’re not familiar with Alliance law, I do suggest you refrain from comment until you have a lawyer.”

“I’m not one of your citizens.”

“Presumably you’re seeking Alliance registry, which is the only way you can trade here. Now on the one hand, you’ll be seeking to prove the charges false; and on the other, if they are proved false, if your record is established, then your registry would be a matter of form. So if there’s really no problem, it should after all save you time you might spend waiting for forms and technicalities, and I might add, at station expense. If you hoped to clear all your papers and get cargo in a three-day stopover under normal circumstances, Captain, I’m afraid you were misled.”

“If it’s processed in that time and not after it—” He played for conciliation, took an easier stance, felt a line of sweat running down his face all the same.

“Quite so. I assure you it will be simultaneous.”

“I appreciate it” He folded his hands behind him and tried to look comforted. He felt sick. “Where am I supposed to stay, then? I’d like to have access to my ship.”

“Not yet”

“Accommodations dockside, then?”

“At any B class lodging.”

“Captain.” That from the militia officer. The voice drew his eyes in that direction. The blue uniform—was wrong somehow. Foreign. He was not used to foreignness. He had never imagined any current military force outside Union, which was all of civilization. The emblem was a sunburst on the sleeve, and several black bands about the cuff. “Commander Josh Talley, Alliance Forces. Officially—why are you here?”

“Trade.”

“For what?”

“Is that,” Sandor asked, looking back at Quen, “one of the things I should wait for a lawyer to answer? I don’t see I have to make my business public.”

“You’re not obliged to answer. Use your own discretion.”

He thought about it—looked back at Talley: a precise, military bearing, cold and clean, with a hardness unlike any merchanter he had ever seen. The eyes rested on him, unvarying, virtually unblinking, making him uneasy. “For the record,” he said, “I get some latitude from my combine. I was on the Viking-Fargone run. It never paid; and I thought maybe I could widen my operation a little, set up an account here and do better on a cross-Line run… my discretion. I have a margin to operate in. I moved it. Am moving it.”

“How much margin, Captain? Three thousand, as you claimed? And you look to compete with larger, faster ships? We’re interested in the economics of your operation. What do you haul, when you can get cargo? Small items—of high value and low mass?”

Suddenly the room was all too close and the air unbearably warm. “I couldn’t do much worse than where I was, that was all. Yes, I haul things like that. Station surplus. Package mail. Licensed Pharmaceuticals. All clean stuff. Dried foods. Sometimes I carry passengers who aren’t in a hurry and can’t afford better. I’m slow, yes.”

“And WSC has interest in a Pell base of operations?”

He weighed his answer, trying to remember what he might have said over the com when he was accounting for himself coming in. “Sir, I told you—my own risk. I figured I could get some station cargo. I heard it was good here.”

“Captain, I know something about Union law. The legal liabilities and the risks of your operation don’t leave much room for profit; and it seems to me very doubtful that your combine would leave a step like yours to an independent.”

“It’s not a company move. It’s a simple shift of a margin account.” He grew desperate, tried to make it sound like indignation. “I never violated the law and I came here in good faith. There’s no regulation against it on Unionside.”

“Financial arrangements on both sides of the Line have been— loose, true. And you fall into a peculiar category. I perceive you’re an excellent dockside lawyer. Most marginers are. And I’d reckon if your log and ledgers are put under subpoena… we’ll find they don’t exist, in spite of regulations to the contrary. In fact you’ll keep no more records than the Mazianni do. In fact it’s very difficult to tell a marginer from that category of ship—by the quality of the records they keep. What do you say, Captain? Could that account for your economics in a cross-Line run?”

If ever in his life he would have collapsed in fright it would have been then, under that quiet, precise voice, that very steady stare. His heart slammed against his ribs so hard it affected his breathing. “I’d say, sir, that I’m no pirate, and having lost my family to the Mazianni, I don’t take the comparison kindly.”

The eyes never flinched, never showed apology. “Still, there is no apparent difference.”

“Lucy doesn’t carry arms enough to defend herself.” His voice rose. He choked it down to a conversational tone as quickly, refusing to lose control. “You admit she can’t make speed. How is she supposed to be a pirate?”

“A Mazianni carrier could hardly pull up to a station for trade and conversation. But there is a means by which the Mazianni are trading with stations, in which they do scout out an area and the ships trading in it, mark the fat ones, and pick them off in the Between. Marginers undoubtedly figure in that picture, trading in the nullpoints, picking up cargo, faking customs stamps. Would you know any ships like that?”

“No, sir.”