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warning he might make would be a moot point.
    * * *
    Takahashi Ayako had stayed with the section, since they were still in a part of the ship she was familiar with. When they got to the next closed hatch, the freed slave made agitated motions with her hands.
    That’s the crew quarters, she mouthed silently.
    Kabweza nodded. Like Loren’s earlier sneer, the gesture was not really visible because of the shielded faceplate. But it didn’t matter. Damewood had read Ayako’s lips also, and was already working at his special equipment.
    Overriding the security on internal hatches was child’s play for someone like Loren. After a few seconds, he held up a hand, all his fingers open. Then, quickly, closed his fist and opened them again. The signal indicated that he was about to open the hatch.
    Kabweza took half a step back. Behind her, so did the other remaining members of her section. Takahashi scuttled aside.
    The hatch started sliding open. Kabweza went in and—
    Nothing. The corridor was empty. To the left, three hatches—all of them open—led into sleeping compartments. None of them were occupied. All of them were unkept and messy.
    When Ayako came into the corridor, she looked at one of the compartments and the pinched look came back to her face. Quickly, she looked away.
    “Where to now?” Ayibongwinkosi asked softly, the volume on her helmet speaker turned down very low.
    Takahashi looked uncertain and made a little shrug. “I’m not really sure,” she whispered. “This . . .” She paused and took a little breath. “This is as far as I ever . . . that they took me.”
    She pointed to a closed hatch at the very end of the corridor. “But from things they said, I think that leads into their headquarters. The ‘bridge,’ is that right?”
    “Okay. You stay here. The rest of you, follow me.”
    Takahashi shuddered slightly. “I don’t wantto stay here. I really don’t.”
    Ayibongwinkosi hesitated a moment. Then: “Come with us, then. But stay behind and don’t get in the way.”
    Five seconds later, she and her section were ready at the hatch. The XO started working his magic again.
    * * *
    Hearing some small noises behind her, Nancy turned her head and saw that two of her people were at the hatch on her side of the cargo bay. One of them said: “We’ve got ’em here, boss.”
    Anderson turned back to the Ramathibodi ’s captain. “Okay, we’re ready to start negotiating over the pleasure units. You can transfer the credit chips, if you’re so inclined.”
    Tsang gestured at one of her subordinates to take the small bag of credit chips they’d already acquired for the labor techs onto their own ship.
    “Not that we don’t trust you or anything,” Tsang said to Nancy. “Still, it’s like the old song goes: ‘better safe than sorry.’ ”
    “An ancient saw on Old Earth said it better. ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’ ”
    Anderson and Tsang exchanged slightly derisive smiles. The derision wasn’t aimed at each other so much as at the universe in general. Slave traders have an outlook on life that a fanciful poet—or literary critic, more like—might call expansively ironic.
    This sort of dickering in stages was common in their business. Indeed, it was considered politesse for the purchasing party to allow the seller to periodically move their newly acquired funds to a safe place before proceeding.
    Once the Ramathibodi ’s crewman with the bag of credit chips had left, Anderson made a motion to her own people to bring the pleasure units onto the cargo bay.
    There were three of them, one female and two males. All three, as one would expect, were exceedingly attractive. Unlike most slaves, they didn’t keep their eyes down and their gaze on the floor. Their gazes were level, just . . . vacant.
    Tsang smiled and rubbed her hands together. “Well, now!”
    * * *
    When the crewman carrying the bag of credit chips arrived on the bridge—sauntered onto the bridge, it would be better