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  "Thank you," said Lark, her voice so low Cassie could barely hear it. She took the bracelet and buckled it on, acting as if Cassie had given her a new spaceship.

  "It's no big deal," Cassie said, embarrassed. Lark looked up and smiled for the first time. It transformed her solemn face, and Cassie had to look away. It was going to be hard enough to do what she had to do. Lark smiling only made it worse.

  City Hall was a massive four-story building housing every part of the civic bureaucracy, from courtrooms to police to city clerks. Cassie walked through the hallways without speaking, relying on Roger's arrows overlaid on her lens to guide her. Lark trotted along at her elbow, silent as always, trusting her.

  The girl stiffened when Cassie walked through a doorway marked "Child Services", but she continued to follow. Cassie walked up to the counter that lined one wall. A panel lit up and she said, "I'm Susan Smith." She certainly wasn't going to use her own name for something that could link her to a major crime.

  "One moment," said an electronic voice. A moment later a stout, matronly woman appeared on the far side of the counter. "Miss Smith?"

  Cassie nodded.

  The woman smiled at Lark. "And is this the child you told us about?"

  Lark looked up at Cassie, the first hint of alarm showing on her face.

  "Yes," said Cassie, not meeting Lark's eyes.

  "Splendid. Hello, Lark. My name is Lisabet."

  Lark ignored the woman, reaching up to clutch Cassie's hand. "No, Cassie! I want to stay with you."

  "Sorry, kid." Cassie made herself meet Lark's eyes, and flinched from the look of hurt accusation she saw there. "It's for the best."

  "No it isn't!"

  Lisabet came around the counter and put a firm hand on Lark's wrist, pulling the girl's hand away from Cassie's arm. "It's all right, Lark. We're going to take very good care of you."

  Lark opened her mouth as if to speak, but the spark in her eyes was already dying. Her eyes stayed locked on Cassie's face, but her shoulders slumped and the life seemed to drain out of her.

  "I'm sorry," Cassie muttered, and turned away. It's for the best. She'll see that eventually. It's for the best, damn it! She headed for the door.

  "Hang on, Miss Smith, we need you to fill out—"

  Cassie ignored the woman, walking quickly into the hall and away from Child Services.

  Just inside the front doors of City Hall she found a rack of doves, flying delivery bots able to carry up to a kilogram in weight. A swipe of her fare bracelet let her take a dove from the rack. She took from her pocket a bundle the size of her fist, tucked it inside the dove, and sealed the bot with a six-digit password. She gave it an address that didn't exist, just beyond the outskirts of the city, and synced it with her phone. When she was sure the dove would come if she called it, she lugged it outside and sent it on its way. The little robot rose up into the rainy sky and soared off, disappearing over the rooftops.

  Doves were designed to circle, high up out of reach, until summoned by the recipient. It gave her a way to stash the bundle, yet have it always just minutes away.

  After that, she went to see The Snake.

  His name was Laskey, or so he claimed. First name or last, she didn't know. It didn't matter much, either. Everyone knew him as The Snake. He occupied a den in the basement of a little shopping mall on the edge of Cristobal's industrial sector. The mall was on a low hill, which allowed The Snake to do business from a basement without being below the water table. Cassie strolled through the dismal little mall, pretending to window shop, then ducked down a grubby back staircase.

  A thick steel door slid open as she approached. She would have been on camera since she stepped onto the stairs, possibly since she entered the mall. The Snake was a cautious man. But then, he had plenty of enemies.

  The security bots weren't obvious, but she knew they were there in the gloom. The Snake lived surrounded by junk. It filled sagging shelves, it stood in precarious heaps, it littered tables and benches and much of the floor. It was everywhere, and it was all junk. His den was fairly large, but it felt cramped and claustrophobic because of the ocean of crap, most of it stolen, most of it shabby, that filled the place to bursting.

  "Cassandra. I was hoping to see you. How was your little trip?" The booming voice came from a shadowy back corner, and she moved closer, waiting for her eyes to adjust. It wasn't that she wanted to see The Snake better for his own sake. He was a remarkably ugly man, but she always felt better when she could see someone's eyes. In a treachery-filled job like hers, it helped her avoid being ripped off, arrested, or worse.

  "Snake," she said, stopping in front of him. He filled a groaning sofa against one wall, his enormous forearms resting on a low table heaped with half-assembled electronics. Tattoos covered his arms, the oldest ones stretched and distorted by weight gain, the newer ones still crisp. There were swirling patterns in green and black, abstract designs that seemed to flow around his bulk, making him seem sleek instead of ungainly. And there were snakes. Every species and variety of snake seemed to have a home somewhere on The Snake's skin.

  "I had a great trip," she said. "It's always nice to see the galaxy." She wasn't going to discuss business until her eyes finished adjusting.

  "Swell." He leaned forward, and a bit of watery light reached his face. She could make out the tip of a snake's tail where it crossed his neck and just touched the curve of his cheek. And she could finally see his eyes, cold and reptilian in the thick folds of skin that formed his face. There was no expression in those eyes. There never was. The day she saw any actual life there she would know there was something wrong.

  "I got it," she said. "It was just where you said."

  He grinned, his cheeks bulging out so that his lips vanished into shadow. "Excellent. Let me see."

  She didn't reply, just stared at him, and he snorted, then reached into a drawer on the desk and pulled out a fist full of credit crystals. He piled them on the table in front of him, then went back to the drawer, rummaging until every crystal was out and in the heap. Cassie leaned across, took a crystal at random, and held it up to the light.

  Twenty grand. Genuine, by the looks of it. She eyed the pile. Fifteen crystals. "That will almost cover my expenses," she said. Even with the crashed flitter it would put her slightly into profit, especially if she sold the cracking machine she'd used on the safe, but he didn't have to know that.

  He snorted again. "How much cash do you think I keep around here, anyway?" He waved a meaty hand. "It's a down payment. Now. Show me."

  Reluctantly, she drew a cloth bag from her pocket. The Snake's breathing quickened as she dumped the carved gem into her palm. He held out an impatient hand for it. She ignored him.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, how long have we been doing business? And you don't trust me yet?"

  She grinned. "We've been doing business far too long for me to start trusting you, Snake. You can put your sweaty fingers on the birdie when I get the rest of my money."

  "Fine," he grumbled. "Hold still." He rummaged on the table, came up with a hand-held scanner, and waved it over the gem. The scanner hummed, and he grinned. "Well, I'm damned," he said. "Either it's a fake of remarkable quality, or you got the genuine article."

  He watched as she scooped up the rest of the crystals and stuffed them into the cargo pockets on her thighs. "I'll set up the analyzer," he said, "and call my courier. Come back in about an hour and we can finish our transaction."

  "All right," she said, feeling some of her tension drain away. He might still try to rip her off, swapping the real gem for a fake in the analyzer or some crap like that, but once she made it out his door with the crystals in her pockets she knew she wouldn’t be completely fleeced. "Oh, I found one other little bauble. Let me know if you're interested."

  His eyebrows rose as she unzipped a sleeve pocket. She handed him a data chip, and he dropped it into a slot on his desktop. A hologram sprang to life, showing a 3-D scan of a fist-sized gray lump. It was the c
ontents of the mystery box, and Cassie still had no idea what it was.

  The Snake tapped a console and the hologram expanded. It was clearly an artifact, not something natural. The shape was vaguely egg-like, with a bell-like opening on the top and delicate lines tracing the skin. It was like nothing Cassie had ever seen before.

  "Interesting," The Snake said, peering at the hologram. "What is it?"

  "I'm not sure," Cassie admitted. "It was in the safe with the gem."

  "Hmmm." He expanded the hologram, then made it rotate. "Could be Ancient tech. I'd have to scan the original to be sure." He leaned back and regarded her. "If it's from the Ancients, I could give you a pretty penny for it."

  "I'll keep that in mind," she said, suddenly glad she didn't have the egg with her.

  His fat fingers hovered over a button on the console in front of him. "Do you have it here?" he said, his voice casual.

  Cassie snorted. "You clearly have me confused with someone who was born yesterday. Of course I don't."

  He lowered his hand to his lap and frowned. "Cassie, you wound me! How long have we been working together?"

  "Long enough for me to learn caution," she said. "I'll be going now, Snake. I'll see you in an hour."

  He nodded reluctantly. "Bring the bauble with you, would you?"

  "We'll see," she replied, and headed for the door.

  Only when she was on the staircase and climbing toward the mall did she properly relax. The Snake was a fence. Stolen goods were his lifeblood. He couldn't afford to betray too many of his suppliers or he'd be out of business. So why had she felt the tension in the room rise to a nerve-jangling pitch? Did an Ancients artifact represent enough of a profit that he'd rip off his best thief? Or had he recognized the egg?

  "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered, and left the mall. She found a branch of Pan Galactic Bank a couple of blocks away and passed over most of the credit crystals, dividing the money among several accounts. A crawling paranoia made her keep four of the crystals in her pocket. If things went completely to hell she'd have plenty of ready cash.

  Telling herself that everything would be fine, she left the bank and headed out to meet another fence.

  CHAPTER 5

  Jimmy Lan was an operator on a much smaller scale than The Snake, but he put up a nicer front. He had a warehouse on the edge of the city center, and ran a legitimate freight-forwarding business to camouflage his more lucrative interests. Cassie decided to drop by unannounced. The less chance he had plot an ambush or think up lies, the better.

  A humanoid robot sat behind a reception desk in the front office. Most businesses had nothing but a panel to greet visitors, but Becky, as Jimmy called her, could fetch coffee, unload cargo, or block a doorway if the cops came storming in. She gave a cheerful greeting in her tinny mechanical voice as Cassie walked in.

  "I need to see Jimmy," Cassie said.

  "What's it about?" Becky asked. Her plastic and metal face didn't do expressions. Her lips, which didn't move when she spoke, were fixed in a permanent smile. She would wear the same fixed grin while telling you to get out and not to come back.

  "I have a little item I picked up in my travels," Cassie told the robot. "I'm wondering if he might be interested."

  "He's with someone right now," Becky said. "I could make an appointment for this afternoon."

  "I'll have it sold by then," Cassie replied. "It's a pretty popular little item." That was an understatement. "It's now or never, I'm afraid."

  Robots, Cassie reflected, didn't get annoyed when people got pushy and played hardball. It was part of their charm. Not that she liked them overmuch, but people, generally, were worse. "All right," Becky said. "He's in the back somewhere."

  "Thanks." Cassie headed past the robot and down a corridor leading past rest rooms and small storage rooms. The far end of the corridor opened into the main warehouse. Cassie paused in the doorway to get her bearings.

  Two long lines of shelving stretched away before her, filled with bales and crates and sacks of anonymous stuff. There was no immediate sign of Jimmy, and Cassie's innate paranoia kept her from calling out. She stood still and listened.

  A man groaned, and she heard the unmistakable sound of something hard striking flesh.

  She almost turned and left. Instead, she drew her pistol and moved forward into the warehouse. The sound had come from her left. She went to the right, slipping along the right-most line of shelves, stepping softly, eyes alert for movement.

  Another groan reached her ears, and a man's voice, low and indistinct.

  She came to a gap in the shelves and crept forward, then peeped around the corner. The gap continued through the second line of shelves, making a small cross-corridor. No one was in sight. The voice was louder now, the words almost distinguishable. The sound still came from ahead and to her left.

  Cassie flitted across the gap and resumed her slow stalk along the shelves.

  When she reached the end of the shelves she checked her pistol one last time, then took a moment to concentrate on her breathing. It was an adrenaline-reducing technique, and it reduced the tremor in her hands to a manageable level. When she was ready, she leaned forward and peeked around the corner of the shelf.

  Jimmy was on his knees in the corner of the warehouse. His head sagged forward, his long dark hair hiding his face, but she could see blood dripping past the hair to land on his thighs. His hands were bound behind him.

  Two men stood over him. One man had his attention on Jimmy; the other one was scanning the warehouse. As his head started to turn toward Cassie, she pulled back.

  "Where is she, Mr. Lan? All you have to do is tell me where she is and we'll walk out of here and leave you alone." The speaker had an off-world accent. That would be the one standing behind Jimmy, the slim young man in the shiny suit. She replayed the scene in her mind. He had a small pistol in his hand, she couldn’t tell what kind. He'd be the brains of the operation.

  The other one was the muscle. That one had a riot gun, and he wore silver body armor and a visored helmet. She would shoot him first. He ought to be looking the other way by now. She leaned forward and peeked around the corner again.

  Both men were staring straight at her.

  She fired from the hip, taking the one in the armor with a stun blast, then snapped a shot at the one in the suit. He flinched back, and her shot grazed Jimmy, and he sagged forward until his forehead was touching the floor. Well, it would help keep him out of the way.

  The riot gun fired, a blast of cohesive energy that blew apart a crate beside her head. He had stun-resistant armor, then. She shot him again, just in case, and pulled back, then dropped flat. The crates beside her blew apart and rained bits of plastic and metal over her prone body as she switched her pistol to shock mode. Shock blasts were designed for disabling robots, but they would also deliver a debilitating shock to a man wearing armor. She rose to one knee, feeling heat against her lower back as a few close shots went past. Then she leaned forward, took aim, and shot him in the center of the chest.

  She was moving as he fell. The one in the suit was gone, and she meant to keep him guessing about her location. She darted around the shelf and into the next corridor, trotted as quietly as she could toward the middle of the warehouse, then paused. There was a gap on a chest-high shelf, a space a meter wide where a crate had been removed. With a quick hop she pulled herself into the gap. She was hidden on three sides, and he wouldn't be looking for her at this altitude.

  Long seconds crawled past in complete silence. He wouldn't be able to wait too long, she reasoned. He'd be expecting her to call for help. She could outwait him.

  Stealthy footsteps made a faint rustle, the direction impossible to tell. She thought of how both men had been staring toward her hiding place. If they had infrared sensors they'd spot her easily, and her little cubbyhole made it impossible to maneuver. But the sensors would be built into the riot gunner's helmet, and he was down for the count.

  Cassie was on
the verge of climbing down and taking her chances when she heard something heavy being dragged across the floor. She sprang down, switching her pistol to stun, and raced to the end of the corridor, expecting to find the man in the suit dragging his incapacitated partner toward the exit.

  Instead, she saw the man with a gun in one hand, his other hand clutching the shoulder of Jimmy Lan's shirt, dragging him onto a cargo mover. He let go of Jimmy as Cassie came into view. He brought the gun up, then dropped it as she shot him twice in the abdomen. He doubled over and sank to the floor.

  The man in the armor was dead. Heart failure was always a danger with shock blasts. She kicked the riot gun well away from his hands and left him lying there staring up at the ceiling.

  The one in the suit was still alive. She tossed his gun away, and pulled the jacket down around his elbows to slow him down in case he woke up sooner than expected. Then she knelt beside Jimmy.

  He blinked up at her, then scowled. "Cass," he said, his voice weak. "What the hell?"

  "You're all right, Jimmy."

  His scowl deepened. "No thanks to you."

  She looked at the gun in her hand, thought about shooting him again, and restrained herself. "It is thanks to me, actually. I just shot your little house guests for you."

  "They were looking for you, Cass."

  "What?" She stared at him. "You can't be serious."

  He nodded, then winced, and she winced in sympathy. Stun shots were no picnic. "Help me up," he said.

  She hauled him to his feet. He leaned against the wall for a bit, then straightened. "Okay, that's the worst of it." He shook his head. "You want to tell me what's going on?" When she gave him a baffled look he said, "They're bounty hunters. Looking for you. Not by name, but they described you perfectly. Knew you were a thief, too. What have you done?"

  Cassie thought of the gray egg, protected with so much more care than the priceless carved gem. "Nothing!"