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ramp that led on to the in-system shuttle run by a pair of elderly and extremely well-dressed brothers. Finch handed over her duffel bag, which he had insisted on carrying, and stood somewhat awkwardly in front of her. The wind tugged at their clothes and hair, incessant and strong.
    “These two are safe,” he said finally. “They’ll get you to Station, no problems—you won’t be idented or anything. You shouldn’t have any problem finding that Captain Cha.”
    There was a pause.
    Lily smiled slightly. “I suppose you mean the problem will be cutting Master Heredes loose. You’re sure you don’t want to come?”
    “Frankly, Lily, I doubt if I would be any use. And Swann said she’d only cover for me for as long as it took me to get you here and back.” He shrugged, smiling with a trace of self-mockery.
    “Don’t underestimate yourself,” said Lily softly. “It’s your worst fault.”
    One of the brothers stuck his head out of the hatch and called for her.
    She put out a hand to grasp Finch’s shoulder, pulled him toward her. He put his arms around her and they embraced, then kissed.
    “Is it really my worst fault?” he said into her ear.
    “Oh, yes.” Lily thrust him gently away from her and picked up her duffel bag. Bach rose, rocked to one side by a gust of wind, and righted to his correct axis. “You do more things well than you think you do.”
    He smiled, a bit wanly. She stepped onto the ramp. “When will you be back?” he asked quickly.
    Lily paused. “I don’t know.” She felt the medallion lying smooth against her skin under her shirt. The wind whipped her black hair up across one cheek, shifted to strike directly into her face, bringing tears to her eyes. “I don’t know,” she repeated, gazing out at the high rock walls that sheltered Apron Port, at the distant huddle of buildings that marked the town, the scatter of ships lying still and windswept in their berths, and at Finch, his hair and clothes seeming alive in the air. “Maybe I’ll never be back,” she said, too softly for him to hear, and she took an abrupt step toward him and hugged him fiercely. He held her, let her go as soon as she relaxed her hold, and she went quickly up the ramp, Bach beside her.
    Inside, she turned to watch the ramp retract into the ship, the slow rising of the hatch. Beyond, Finch stood alone, a solitary figure buffeted by the wild air on the field, the distant howl of the wind generators and the shriek of the wind around rocks and buildings accompanying his wave. The hatch shut with a solid click and she stood sealed in the silence of the shuttle.
    One of the brothers appeared. “This way, luv,” He led her and Bach to launch chairs behind the pilot seat. “We’re lucky to still be running, sure enough,” he went on. “The current laws are killing decent commerce, just so Central can run its own monopoly. Do you realize that three small independents I know personally have been forced to booting—ourselves included—not ’cause we like this line of work. But it’s better’n the five others who lost their ships and had to turn to Station-hopping, or go to ground, or—worst—to Government Assistance just as if they were no better’n tattoos, all because the greedy elites pretend to govern in the name of all of us”—he strapped himself in and his more taciturn brother began lift-off proceedings—“so indeed we’re happy to do the Caennas a favor, them having done so much for us independents, all things considered.” He ceased talking because his attention was needed for the launch.
    A surge of power, and they were up. Breaking past the walls of the gorge, the storm hit them like the blow of a trained fighter. They were thrown and wrenched until Lily thought she would lose the quick meal Finch had insisted she eat. But the voluble brother made a few jokes, dispelling her fear, and they passed the cloud layer and arrived in the calm of the high atmosphere.
    “Nice ’bot,”