The train rocked back and forth and Jaff leaned against a partition and closed his eyes. His toolbox lay on the floor between his feet.

He hated having to get on the light rail at this time of day, one of the shift changes at the factories. But it was the quickest way to get back to the maintenance depot, so he could drop off his gear and go home. The other two techs he'd been working with today chatted to each other, but Jaff drifted, bone tired. They'd spent the day in an under-floor area, too low to stand up in and full of dust, grease and dead bugs. All he wanted now was a shower and his bed.

He'd get the shower, but not the bed yet, as he'd promised to go have dinner with Chervaz. Poor guy still had trouble cutting his food. Maiga had been helping him out, but she'd flown off on a job a couple of days ago.

At the next stop a pair of factory workers, ex-Infantry going by their manners, Jaff thought, shoved their way onto the crowded train. The two men spoke in loud voices and he wished they'd shut the hell up. He didn't want a headache on top of everything else.

"It's her, I'm telling you."

"Rubbish."

"She was with him. I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You don't even remember what you did yesterday!"

"Yeah, well I wasn't drunk that night. And you don't forget hearing the Prophet speak."

Jaff opened his eyes. Tension spread through the train carriage, all of those within earshot of the men listening now.

"Maybe you'd remember him, but the rest of them?"

"I happen to have a very good memory for hot chicks."

His friend laughed. What the hell are they talking about? Jaff thought. Who are they talking about?

"Look," the sceptic said. "Everyone knows his whole group was killed. How can any of them be on this station?"

People openly stared at them now, hanging on their words.

"I don't know how, but it was her," the one with the good memory said, "She was at the docks, loading a ship. One of them little ones, you know. Her and this old broad. They gave me a couple of hour's work loading."

"What ship?" Jaff's own voice surprised him. Butting in to the conversation of a couple of big, muscular guys wasn't his usual habit. But he had to know, because he suddenly had a strange feeling. They couldn't mean her, surely?

"What?" The two of them looked at him, but didn't seem to resent his busting in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but which ship? Do you recall the name?"

"Yeah, it was, um, the Friss?"

The tension in the carriage changed. The silent crowd began muttering. Jaff stared, just stared at the two men. Finally, he found his voice again.

"You're sure it was her? You're certain she's the one you saw with him? With the Prophet?"

"Sure as my own name, pal."

His name. Yeah, Jaff wanted that. And his age. Because you had to have the age, for the paper. Well Vaz could ask for that later.

"Could I get your contact details?" Jaff took out his Snapper.

"What, you want a date?" The worker asked and laughed, his friend joining in. "Sorry, pal, you're not my type."

"No, a friend of mine may want to talk to you." He grabbed at a pole, as the train stopped. The doors opened. The two workers and numerous other passengers stepped out into a crowd on the platform. "Wait!" Jaff shouted, as he tried to push his way out against the crush of people boarding. But the doors were closing; he couldn't get there in time. "Call me at maintenance! My name's Jaff! Call me, we have to talk!"

They waved back, dismissive waves, laughing at the crazy guy on the train. The doors closed. This damn automated train, the doors closed after eight seconds; no exceptions. Jaff considered grabbing the emergency stop lever. But, it was too late anyway, the men were gone and the train was moving.

"Jaff, you okay?" One of the other techs said. Both of them wore a mix of concern and amusement on their faces, at his eccentric behaviour, accosting men on the train.

"Yeah. Just Chervaz is going to want to know about this."

"I'll bet! Can't be true, can it? I mean everyone knows they were all killed, his people."

"I don't know." Jaff shook his head. It couldn't be true. Maiga was a bit mysterious about her past, sure but so were many people here. All making new lives, so they didn't talk about the old ones much. But this?

"But you know Maiga, don't you? Is she still seeing Chervaz?"

Jaff nodded. Seeing him. Lying to him. Unless... His eyes widened. Unless he already knows. No. He can't do. She'd lied to him. Like so many before. Dammit, he has it across his forehead doesn't he? Lie to me. Break my heart.

"Well, this is going to spread like wildfire," she said.

Jaff nodded again. Glancing around, he saw people talking into and tapping messages into their Snappers and other communicators. They'd get off the train, they'd head to their homes, and to bars and cafes and restaurants and the whole station, well the human section, would already be buzzing with it.

The three maintenance techs finally piled off the train at the station nearest their department.

"Do me a favour, please," Jaff said. "Take the toolbox back. I have to run."

"Okay." One took the box. "You owe us a drink."

"Right," Jaff nodded. He's get that for them happily. Just not in Dav's. Barred from there for life now. He looked around for an electric cab. No sign, damn, all taken. Right.

He ran, heading for the human sector. Even before he reached the Plaza, four people had stopped him and asked him the same question.

"Have you heard?"

Yep, right from the horse's mouth.

As he crossed the Plaza, voices hailed him from Chullan's, but he just waved and ran on, heading for the small street that held the tailor's shop. A light glowed in the window over the shop. Jaff pushed the door to the stairs and it swung open. Unlocked still. Chervaz never did learn did he?

Jaff ran up the stairs and froze at the top of them. Chervaz sat at the desk, face pale, staring at his panel, then turning to stare at Jaff. Jaff knew right away that Chervaz had not already known. Because he wore that look Jaff had seen too often before. The one that said, "I thought this time it would be different."

He always did. He always thought this one wouldn't stamp all over his heart; and in some cases, empty his bank account. Well Maiga might not have done the latter, but she'd done the former. Chervaz worshipped the truth. What can I say to him? The words Jaff heard coming from his own mouth sounded hopelessly inadequate.

"You've heard."

~o~

He'd heard.

A dozen messages had come in, still more arriving now. Could he confirm? People thought he'd be the one with the information. And he was, normally. He had his sources on the station; the place was full of information brokers who could dig up anything. Wixa for one. But, he'd never considered asking any of them to dig up information on Maiga. He trusted her.

Clearly, she didn't trust him in return.

Jaff walked into the room and flopped into a chair. He still wore his dirty work overalls, and his face was smudged with dirt and sweat. He was breathing hard. He'd run here.

"Oh, man, Vaz, I'm so sorry."

"We don't know for sure it's true. One man claims to know her apparently. He could be mistaken."

"Well put it under Important If True."

"Put it... You think I'm going to put this in the paper?"

Jaff sat forward frowning.

"Well of course you are. This is the biggest thing to hit this station since a freighter crashed into the old docking areas a hundred years ago. We're still clearing up that mess."

"It sounds to me like it's her business, nobody else's."

"Not even yours?"

"That's... not the issue. The point is, it's not a news story."

Jaff stared at him. "You're joking right. She was with The Prophet! She's meant to be dead! Dead woman walking around sounds like news to me. And think what she could tell us about him, things we've only heard third and fourth hand."

"If she wanted to talk about him, she would have."

Chervaz stood up and walked around his office, bare and basic now, all the wrecked equipment and furniture gone and only some of it replaced.

"Vaz, he's a legend. He changed history."

"Did he?" Chervaz looked out of the window. "He tried. But the right people didn't listen soon enough. Unless you subscribe to the view that his spreading his information actually provoked the attack."

"You know I don't," Jaff said.

"Well some people do. If Maiga was one of Ilyan's followers then she could be in danger from those people. They could look for revenge."

"Well, I guess that's true," Jaff conceded, nodding as Chervaz turned back to him. "But, look, we can argue all day about if she should have told you, told anyone. That doesn't matter. It's out now."

"If it's true." Chervaz sat at his desk again.

"If it's true, yeah." Jaff leaned back in his chair, rubbed a hand over his face, smearing the dirt and grease. "But if it is and you don't publish it, what does that make you? You'd be showing her favouritism because she's your woman."

"I wouldn't call her my woman."

"Whatever you call it. You're sleeping with her, and people would assume that's why you're not publishing, even though everyone on the station is talking about it."

"I doubt everyone on the station knows I'm sleeping with her."

"Well if they don't know that, then they'll just assume you're an idiot. That you can't pick up on something everybody is talking about."

"Jaff, she... she stood up for the Chronicle. She protects this paper."

"Yeah, and that's just the same as you not publishing because you're sleeping with her. Vaz, if you're true to yourself, none of those things can stop you publishing. You know that!"

Chervaz glanced down at this panel. More messages now. One from the print shop, where he still had the paper printed until he got a new printer. He opened the message. Did he want some urgent time on the printer tonight for a special edition? The print shop owner wasn't even human and he'd already heard.

Standing up again, Chervaz walked to the window. Jaff followed him this time and put a hand on his shoulder, didn't speak.

"You do realise that Bara is probably behind this?" Chervaz said.

Jaff looked surprised. "I don't see how."

"She is. She has to be."

"Shit, Vaz, I wish you'd be this cynical all the time."

Chervaz smiled thinly. Yeah, it would help. "If I publish I'm playing into her hands."

"And if you don't you're doing the same, because that makes the paper a joke."

Chervaz closed his eyes a moment. The paper. He had to tell the truth, or people would ignore the Chronicle as pointless. Irrelevant. He had a duty to the paper. And didn't he have a duty to Maiga?

"Look," Jaff said. "She's tough. Believe me, I've seen that. And would the Prophet have had her with him if she couldn't deal with trouble? It's going to be hard and I'm sorry for her. But you know what the right thing to do is. You always know. It's usually you telling me, not the other way around."

He was right, Chervaz knew. A clear choice between right and easy. Easy for him and for Maiga. But wrong.

"I know it's bad whichever way you jump," Jaff went on. "But you either publish this, or you close the paper down right now."

Chervaz stared at him. Close the paper? That hadn't even occurred to him. Unthinkable. The paper. The Chronicle of Hollow Jimmy. He'd loved the paper long before Maiga had arrived. Did he love it more than he loved her? Did he love her? He loved too easily, he knew that, always had. But had it been different with her? More of a feeling that it could last this time?

Well hell no, in the end, it hadn't been different, because she'd lied to him. Like so many others had.

He held up his hands to the light. Still painful. Still hard to work with them. Hands that she had taken revenge for. Hands she protected.

But the paper came first. Duty. He'd been brought up to believe duty came first, and then when his old duty had gone, he'd replaced it with a duty to the paper. To the truth. He spoke to Jaff.

"I'll dictate. You get it formatted."

"Under Important If True?"

"Yes. Important If True."