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The warehouses near the port were in a constant state of flux The pressure of commerce and efficiency kept every space in use with as little downti as could be arranged The sign on the telass door read OUTER FRINGE EXPORTS, but in a week, a day, an hour, it could have been anything

A young man at the counter smiled up at her He had close-cropped hair and skin several shades darker than her own The steel-rilasses could have been an affectation or an interface device She’d never seen him before

“Hi,” she said

“Miss Nagata,” the man said as if they were old acquaintances “It’s been some time I’m

sorry to say we don’t have any work that would be suited to your ship at this time”

“Not what I’m here for,” she said “I need to charter a ship And I need to do it very quietly”

The e “That can be an expensive problem”

“It needs to carry a crew no larger than twenty”

“How long would you need it?”

“I don’t know”

“Would it be hauling cargo?”

“No”

The lasses were an interface, then Naomi crossed her arms

One in a hundred, she thought, I shoith my oarship ready to carry people off Ceres One in twenty, I kno to find someone ill She wondered what the one-in-five plan was What was the sure thing

The man’s focus came back to her