For their next job, they planned ahead. Wixa contacted their destination ahead of time and checked out what goods were in demand there. So this time the Friss's cargo hold was full.

Or would be soon, once the two of them finished loading it. The crates of Glissandian feathers, highly prized as decoration where they were going, were light enough that the two women could load the ship easily themselves.

Maiga worked in silence while Wixa chattered on. That's why she has that ridiculous cat, Maiga concluded, so she can talk to it. Or she'd talk to herself and people would think she was crazy.

"Damn, you know I can't remember if I plugged the cat in to recharge."

Of course crazy was a possibility.

"It's always a real pain coming back and finding him frozen in place."

"Oh, please."

Wixa grinned. "I'm not kidding. He'll be a little catty statue on the floor. Or on his side with his legs all stiff."

"So, you come home and find your cat dead and bring it back to life by recharging its batteries?"

"Yep, that about covers it."

"Madness," Maiga muttered. "Okay, well, go back and check you've left it charging up."

"You'll be okay loading this stuff yourself?"

Maiga hefted a literally feather light box in each hand. "I think I'll manage."

She walked up the ramp into the hold. As she secured the boxes she heard Wixa talking to someone and a moment later a man's voice called from outside.

"Hello? Captain?"

Captain. On instinct Maiga's hand moved towards the knife she kept on her belt. She hadn't told anyone on the station her rank. A shape moved into the hatchway, a man. Tall, broad shouldered and bulky around the chest. She'd have to take him down fast if she was to stand a chance. He smiled at her. A rather nervous smile.

"Hello, Maiga isn't it? Wixa said it was okay to interrupt you for a moment."

Her hand stayed hovering in the small of her back, near the sheathed knife.

"Why did you call me 'Captain'?"

He looked taken aback for a moment, by her sharp tone. When he spoke his own tone was apologetic.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Just, well, this is your ship, isn't it?"

Ah, captain of the ship. She moved her hand away from the knife.

"It is my ship."

"And, if I need to call you Major, or Colonel, or..."

"Maiga will be fine."

He smiled again, looking relieved and she relaxed. This one was no threat. Around her own age, she guessed, light brown skin, black hair. In his large hands he held a small electronic device, a recorder she realised and frowned. That had better not be on.

Maiga walked back out of the hatch, towards the boxes still waiting on the walkway beside the ship.

"My name is Chervaz," the man said. "Oh, can I help you with your loading?"

He went to pick up a box and she hid a smile as she saw him brace his back, and bend his knees as he took hold of the handles. When he lifted, he staggered backwards and almost hoisted the box over his head. Maiga put her hand out on his back steadying him.

"Sorry," she said, not hiding the smile too well now. "I should have warned you."

Chervaz stared at her then smiled too, and laughed.

"So, on this trip you are transporting... boxes?"

"Feathers." She popped the lid off one box, showing him the feathers inside, which shimmered soft blue green.

"Oh." He looked at the couple of dozen boxes still waiting to load. "That's a lot of birds."

Maiga shrugged. Big deal. When ten billion of your people had died in a day then a few dead birds didn't bother you too much. She went on loading boxes and he went on helping her.

"What can I do for you...?" She thought about it for a second. Was this guy a lifer or a driftie? The lifers liked to be called "mister". But he was too young to be retired, and she couldn't see any obvious disability. She erred on the side of politeness. "Mr Chervaz."

"I wanted to ask you if I could talk to you after you return from your trip. And any future trips. You see I run a newspaper."

Newspaper, yes, she'd seen it. Cost a demi-cred, and was only a few pages long. She'd read it a couple of times, usually ones left behind in Chullan's. It covered events on the station, especially those of most interest to the human residents. And it carried other stories too, from off the station, the gossip that new arrivals brought. That was presumably what he wanted to hear from her, any gossip she happened to pick up.

"Would that be for your 'Important if True', section?"

"Oh, you've read the paper?"

"Few times."

"That part, Important if True, that's an old tradition, you know."

Here we go, another talker, like Wixa. Another one who likes to spin a tale. Nice voice though, nice accent. She let him talk on.

"Back on Earth, in a frontier town, a newspaper man would have a column called "Important if True", where he'd report things that he heard, from new arrivals usually, but that he had no way to confirm. He had to print the stories, because if he didn't and they turned out to be true, then people would want to know why he hadn't told them about this before."

"And if they turned out to be false, he just had to point to the word 'if'," Maiga said.

"Exactly." Chervaz nodded. "Well, this station is rather like those frontier towns."

They had all the boxes loaded now, but Maiga would have to wait for Wixa to come back. Ushering Chervaz out of the hold, she closed up the hatch and started to put on her light jacket that she'd tied around her waist.

"So, will you come to see me after your trip?" Chervaz asked.

"To be honest, Wixa is better at the information gathering than me."

"Oh." He looked disappointed. "Well, even so, it's always good to get several perspectives on the same information. You may notice different things than her, with your training."

"My training?" Maiga's voice went very soft. "And what training would that be?"

"I..." He frowned. "Well, you're... Marines Corp? I'm guessing."

"And Wixa?"

"She doesn't really hide that she used to be military intelligence."

Maiga sighed. Paranoia. He's observant, that's all. Well he's a reporter, it's his job. Anyway, she could do that too, look at someone and tell which service branch they belonged to. Except... She frowned at him. Hard to say with this one. Polite and gentlemanly like a starship officer, but the physique of an infantryman.

"How long have you been on the station, Mr Chervaz?"

"About five months."

So not a lifer then, a driftie, yet not. A lifer in the making. "I started the newspaper about three months ago."

"Why?"

"It's just something I used to read about, newspapers. They always appealed to me." His face became dreamy. "They were... important I think. They could topple governments."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Yes, they often were. They changed history."

"Is that why you print it on paper?" Now she'd become the journalist, interviewing him. "Rather than doing it over the station's network?"

"Yes," he confessed with a nod. "The romanticism of it, yes. But, well also, the station managers control the network. Theoretically they can get at and change everything on there. If I ever wanted to say anything critical of the managers, they could stop me. But if it's on paper, if it's passed around from hand to hand, then nobody can contain the truth."

His eyes glowed for a moment as he said that last word. Truth. Ilyan had cared about the truth too.

"Where can I find you?" Maiga asked. "When we get back."

"I have an office over the tailor's shop. Though, I'm usually not there. You can call me."

"Snap me your details." Maiga took out her Snapper and he sent her the information.

"Well, it was good to meet you, Maiga. I look forward to talking when you return."

He offered her his hand and she shook it. As he turned to go, he stopped. "Oh, I'm hearing a lot of rumours about this Captain Bara. If you happened to pick up something about her and her ship, I'd be especially interested. Hello again, Wixa," he said with a nod to her as she arrived back.

"Hey, newspaper man," Wixa said. "Got a new roving reporter then?"

"I hope so." He nodded his goodbyes to them, and hurried off.

"He is cute," Wixa said, grinning at Maiga. "Did you two have a nice chat?"

"He just asked me to pass on any information we pick up. Come on, we've got an appointment to keep."

"He is cute though," Wixa said as they boarded. "Those big brown eyes. And big hands. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Big gloves. Now shut up and contact traffic control before we miss our launch slot."

~o~

Dr Sheni looked up from reading a patient's notes when a nurse popped her head around the door of the doctor's office.

"There's a couple of people here to see you."

"There's always people here to see me, we call them patients."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Not these two. They're doctors."

"Doctors? It's not...?"

"No," the nurse shook her head, her eyes pained. "No. Couple of drifties these two. I think they're going to ask you for a job."

"I'll be out in a minute."

The nurse left and Sheni stood up, with a groan at that damned pain in her knee that the arthritis drugs just couldn't get rid of. Another couple of doctors, eh? Well that might save her from being forced to perform surgery to replace her own kneecap.

Limping and feeling the weight of all of her sixty eight years, Sheni walked over to the wall where several pictures hung. One showed Sheni with two younger men. Younger than her, but old enough to retire from the military and instead work here at Sheni's clinic and infirmary.

They hadn't been under any obligation to head back to Earth when that recall order came. But they were doctors and they knew where their duty lay. If Sheni had been younger perhaps she'd have gone too. Perhaps not. She had her own obligations here.

Well, better go see her visitors. If they really were doctors maybe her dreams of retiring and spending all day pushing up her blood pressure with copious quantities of coffee could soon be realised.

Oh they were so young, she thought, as she walked out into the waiting area, which was quiet now, though would doubtless fill up again later in the evening when people started to relax after their days work. Some people got so sensationally relaxed she didn't even have to anesthetise them to deal with their wounds.

Neither of the doctors was even thirty, she estimated. One was a man with fine blonde hair and hazel eyes, the other a woman with skin darker than Sheni's own, which had started to fade a few years ago. Both wore earnest expressions and neat, clean clothes. Keen to impress.

"I'm Dr Sheni." She held out her hand to them

"Lon," the man said, shaking her hand

"Anishk." The young woman next. Good hands both of them.

"Dr Sheni," Lon said, "We only arrived on the station a few days ago. We're both doctors and we want to offer our services to you, to work here in your clinic."

She wondered about the word "we". A couple maybe? Can be tricky working together.

"I can't offer you much pay," Sheni said. "But I can certainly offer you plenty of work. There's many more human residents here than before the... war." She never felt sure if 'war' was the right word.

"We just want to work, doctor," Anishk said. "Just do what we were trained for."

"What’s your background?"

"I was working in a burns unit," Lon said.

Well they did get burns around here. Accidents happened in the industrial sectors.

"I'm a specialist in blunt trauma injuries," Anishk said. "I've been published in --"

"Ah-ha. Either of you ever deliver a baby?"

They both looked mildly horrified, even disgusted. Great.

"I don't suppose you know much about paediatrics."

They both shook their heads. "There's not much call for that in the military," Lon said, with a shrug.

"Well there is here. The residents will go around having children. What about geriatrics?"

"Old people," Lon said after a brief pause.

"Well that's a start. What about you?" She looked at Anishk. "What do you know about geriatrics?"

"Only that they are all splendid individuals," Anishk said, her tone sincere, yet dry, eyebrows arched just a little. "And that they have much knowledge and wisdom to impart."

Sheni grinned. Ah, well this one had some promise.

"You'd be right." She smiled at them. "And don't let my old country doctor demeanour fool you. I'll confess. I didn't deliver a baby for the first time until I was fifty-three. Come on, let me show you around."

~o~

Chervaz walked into Dav's tavern, ducked a glass sailing through the air, and looked around.

"Vaz!" A voice called. "Over here!"

He spotted a waving man, part of a group of humans and aliens sitting around a table. Chervaz waved back, and then went to the bar. A moment later, he joined the group at the table, carrying a small glass of beer.

The one who'd called to him, a pale, lanky man, dressed in an overall, slapped him on the back. "We're going to make a night of it. Want to join us?"

"Make a night of it? Jaff, it's early morning."

"For you maybe." He gestured at the rest of the group, who all wore variations on the overall Jaff wore. "But the boys and girls here think differently. We just got off shift, and we are up for it, right?" They gave a ragged cheer and clinked glasses.

"Sorry," Chervaz said, not sorry at all. "I have to put the paper to bed." He'd read this expression in an old book. What it meant exactly he wasn't too sure.

"Ah well, maybe join up with us later?"

"Maybe." Unlikely. Chervaz came into Dav's often, sometimes with Jaff, when he was off shift. But, much as he enjoyed spending time with his friend, he considered this place work, not fun. He heard a lot of Important if True stuff in here. Rarely even had to interview people, they tended to yell about it.

Today though he sat there only half listening to the talk around him, gazing off into the middle distance. That trader, Maiga, she had... Something. Well she had a body that was... Yes, but something else too. A mystery about her. A sadness.

Perhaps he looked spacier than usual, because after a while Jaff elbowed him in the ribs.

"You okay?"

"Mmm, oh yes, just thinking about someone... thing. Something."

Jaff looked narrowly at him. "Someone? This wouldn't be a female someone would it?"

"As it happens, yes."

"Oh, here we go again."

"It's not like that," Chervaz protested. "It's that trader who's working with Wixa."

"Wixa's the old girl you think used to be a spy?"

Chervaz sighed. "It seems likely. And yes, that's who I mean."

"Yeah, I've seen her around," Jaff said, then sipped his beer. "The younger one I mean. She runs, round the circuit. Usually in the middle of the night. Pretty hot stuff."

"I've asked her to let me know about any information she picks up. But she, well, she intrigues me a bit too."

"Yep, definite case of here we go again." Jaff frowned, putting down his glass. "She doesn't look that friendly to me. When you say you're intrigued, that means you think she's hiding something?"

"Maybe."

"The last one that was hiding something nearly got you tossed in the brig for aiding a deserter."

Chervaz scowled. "Well that's not going to happen now is it?"

"Maybe not, but knowing your record, this one will have a new and exciting way to screw you over."

"Jaff," Chervaz sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you have to assume the worst about everyone?"

"Because you assume the best about everyone. Someone's gotta balance you out."

~o~

Maiga dozed in the cockpit. Almost a day from Hollow Jimmy now. She'd caught some sleep earlier, even woken from a dream she couldn't quite recall, but that left her feeling good, relaxed, warm. Now Wixa was back in the sleeping quarters, leaving Maiga time to think, to, actually... not brood this time. Just to relax and drift and...

An alarm on the control panel shattered her contemplation and she snapped to full alert. Sensors showed something big was coming at them, fast.

"Identify," she snapped at the computer.

"Muaan Qacia." The computer come back with, started reeling off the vessel's class. Specs scrolled by on the panel. Maiga slapped the intercom.

"Wixa, get out here, now. We've got lizards."