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a sow. Captain Denise's first concern was fuel, and shook her head as sixty-thousand credits worth of fuel flowed into their tanks. Then she registered with the local shipping companies and sat back to wait.
    "This is the worst part, Silver," she commented as she signed for a day's fees at the port. "Every day we stay here costs us five hundred credits. That's why we fuel up first thing. We can always leave if there isn't a cargo here, but there are ships that have been seized because they couldn't move or pay."
    "Yes, Ma'am. I request permission to go look around. Pick up some ship's coveralls that fit right. Eat someone else's cooking." He paused and smiled shyly. "Maybe find a--a friend."
    She smiled at him and said, "Check your friend's health certificate first, Silver. I won't have any diseases on my ship and I will leave you here." Then she waved him on his way as she went back into the ship.
    Silver walked through the port slowly, admiring the old artwork that had once decorated the walls of the passageways. It was shabby and faded, but there was enough left to show what it had once been like.
    Ports like this one were ubiquitous throughout the Confederacy. Too old for the new ships, but too valuable to scrap, they handled a large portion of any planet's extra-system commerce. Especially the commerce between lonely spacers and those who gave them comfort for a price.
    Silver found a likely looking bar and went in. It was drab, dark, and smelled of things best left uninvestigated. Just like home. He took a seat at the bar and got the bartender's attention. "Mulligan's Revenge," he said and put his chip in the slot. "Ten credits," the man said, and Silver pushed the buttons. A large glass of dark amber liquid rose in front of him and he took it quickly. A long sip later he set it down. "Ah, it's been too long."
    "That long in space?" a female voice asked, and he turned to find a woman on the seat next to him.
    "Yes," he replied. "Can I buy you…?" he motioned toward the bar, but the woman chuckled.
    "I'm not for sale, but the rent's reasonable." She smiled what might once have been a winning smile, but that was years ago. "Let's find someplace more private."
    "Can I see your slip?" Silver asked, and she pulled a standard health certificate out of her cleavage. He saw the date-stamp was only three days old and nodded.
    The woman led him out of the bar and spin-ward around the station, then into an elevator. "I have a cubby on the 'E' ring," she said, snuggling close to Silver and using her hands to get him excited.
    The bell for the 'E' ring rang and Silver looked toward the doors. When they opened the first thing he saw was a CSS-SN Admiral's uniform. Then he saw the admiral's face. "Ann?" he asked.
    The admiral looked at him and blanched. She whispered, "Sterling?" then her eyes rolled back.
    Silver lunged forward to catch her as the bar girl screamed. Two CSS Marines who were behind the admiral saw a stranger lunge at her as she fell back and immediately reacted. Trained reflexes drove iron hard fists down onto Silver's head.
    Unconsciousness was the immediate result. The admiral hit the deck hard and was also rendered unconscious.
    * * *
    Silver came to his senses slowly, knowing something bad had happened again, but unable to remember what. Then the man in the chair beside his bed spoke. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, do, or otherwise communicate can and will be used against you at your trial. You have the right to an advocate during questioning. Why did you attack Admiral Stevenson?"
    "I didn't attack Ann. Did you say Stevenson?"
    "Admiral Annette Stevenson, as if you didn't know. You attacked her as soon as the elevator doors opened."
    Silver shook his head. "I didn't attack her. She was about to faint, and I was trying to catch her."
    "That's not what the Marines who brought you in said," the man snapped and Silver looked closely at his face.
    "You always were an ass, Hartley," he moaned