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linguistic talent, and superb physical fitness. She was a flawed SEC tool, yes, but the best they had.
    Danner had never heard of an SEC employee getting a second chance. There again, she did not know of many people who would volunteer to risk their lives for something as abstract as knowledge.
    She turned to the section at the back of the report, “Miscellaneous.” After reading one paragraph, she closed the dossier. There was no reason she needed to know Taishan’s sexual preferences or her personal hygiene habits.
    Her screen chimed and displayed the face of Officer Vincio, her administrative assistant.
    “Representative Taishan is here and wishes to see you at your earliest convenience, ma’am.”
    “Give me two minutes.” She slid the dossier into a drawer. She had time to push her desk against one wall and pull two chairs into a more informal setting around a low table before Vincio rapped on her door and ushered in a tallish, stocky woman with thick, dark hair.
    Danner took her hands in greeting. They were smooth and cool. Her eyes were brown, with a hint of green, but that might have been the light. She chose the chair nearest the door, but seemed relaxed enough.
    “You’re well rested?” Danner asked politely.
    “ Estrade keeps Port Central time.”
    “Of course.”
    The representative wore the plainest clothes available in Company issue: soft trousers in a dark green weave and a loose-fitting brown padded shirt. No adornment. Danner suspected confidence rather than self-effacement; it took something to go in search of and requisition stores without help within—she looked at her wrist—two hours of landing on a planet.
    “Is your time limited?”
    Marghe’s tone seemed neutral enough. Danner decided to accept the question at face value. “No,” she said. “Or rather, yes, in a general sense, but this afternoon I’m at your disposal.”
    Her words seemed to run off Marghe’s smooth exterior and Danner felt as though she were facing a mirrored glass ball. She did not have time to waste fencing. She stood up, opened her desk drawer, withdrew the dossier. “This is your file. Here.”
    She held it out. Marghe hesitated, then took it. “It makes interesting reading, but after just two minutes with you, I feel the psychologists have made some fundamental mistakes.” Marghe turned the file over in her hands without opening it. “They think you’ve come here for the same reason that you don’t visit your father: so that you don’t have to face the reality of your mother’s death. The way they see it, while you’re off Earth, you can believe that everything’s the same back there as it was before.”
    “As you say, they’ve made a fundamental mistake.” The file remained unopened in her lap.
    Vincio tapped on the door. Danner and Marghe were silent as she brought in a tray of refreshments, put it down on the table between them, and left.
    Danner poured steaming saffron liquid into a white porcelain cup and handed it to Marghe. Its scent was delicate, aromatic. “Dap. A local tea. It’s a mild stimulant, weaker than caffeine. It’s a common barter commodity, with, I’m told, a standard value, rather like a currency.”
    Marghe traced the smooth rim of her cup with a fingertip.
    “The pottery was made by one of our cable technicians.” She sipped at her own cup, rolled the aftertaste around her mouth. “It reminds me of dried apricots, though everyone finds something different in it.”
    Marghe took a small sip. “It tastes like comfrey.” She moved the still-unopened dossier from her lap to the table.
    “I want you to keep that,” Danner said. “I have no use for it.” She got up and retrieved another folder from her desk drawer. “I’d also like you to have this, though on a temporary basis. It’s another security dossier.” She held it out. “The subject is myself.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I want you to read it, as I’ve read yours, so that we at least have a