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third wife!”

 
    * * * *

 
    I left Zadim’s, hoping my new best friend
would discover Sarat’s location, and took the tube to the shipping district. It
was a huge square cavern adjoining the spaceport, lined with warehouses full of
cargo brought out by long haul transports from the Core Systems, the expanse of
space within two hundred and fifty light years of Earth containing mankind’s
largest colonies. Once offloaded, the cargo was carried by local freighters to
systems up to several hundred light years away. In the center of the cavern was
a cluster of modern buildings, where shipping companies were headquartered, and
a grand stone structure stood containing the Exchange. Every outpost and
settlement had an Exchange, although this was one of the largest outside Core
System space. The Exchanges were run by the Beneficial Society of Traders, the
organization to which all traders belonged and which underwrote every contract,
ensured every deal was honored and kept the wheels of interstellar commerce turning
– for a slice off the top.
    The trading floor was filled with
people, gathered around dozens of free standing data nodes, small cylindrical stands
arranged in neat rows. Large rectangular displays lined each wall, constantly
scrolling through the list of open contracts, their destinations and completion
bonuses. I found a spare node, signed for payment on the cargoes I’d just
delivered, saw my digital-vault balance increase slightly, then started
skimming data dumps Hades City wanted sent to regional outposts. With ships
being the only way to get information from one system to another, data runs
were a monotonous staple of the trade. Whether it was news, entertainment,
statistics on everything from crop yields to hydrogen production, or simply a
message to a distant family member, someone wanted to transfer it somewhere. It
was dull subsistence work, but it paid the bills.
    I searched for contracts under
twenty light years with a low threat rating. Taking contracts to high threat
systems paid well, but the risks were great and I wasn’t looking for a fight. I’d
marked six possible contracts when I spotted a familiar pair of beautiful dark
eyes looking my way. They belonged to a petite woman with an elfin face framed
by straight black shoulder length hair. While she appeared to be in her late
twenties, I knew she’d had gene work done, enough to shave a decade off with no
side effects. It wasn’t as radical as what I’d been through, but it was good
for civilian cosmetics.
    Marie Dulon, captain of the Heureux , gave me a genuinely warm smile,
but the look in her eyes told me she was as surprised to see me as I was to see
her. For a moment, I wondered if that look meant she was with someone else and
having me on the scene was an unexpected problem. Only one way to find out. I
cancelled out of the data node, retrieved my skipper’s tag – a slender encoded
slip of metal which allowed me to enter into lawful, Society sponsored
contracts – and approached her.
    “Hello, Marie. I thought you’d be
a hundred light years from here by now.”
    We’d planned to meet up in a few
months, when our schedules crossed again. Neither of us had told the other they
were going to Hades City, me because I hadn’t planned to go there, but why was she
here?
    “Hello Sirius,” she said in her Gascon accented voice. To my knowledge she’d never set foot
on Earth, let alone visited Bordeaux, but her family had stubbornly retained
their ancestral heritage. “If I didn’t know it was impossible for you to track
me through interstellar space, I’d think you were following me.”
    “Would you be disappointed if I were?”
    “No, but I’d want to steal your
technology so I could sell it to the highest bidder,” she replied playfully.
    I hadn’t given it much thought,
but she was right. If anyone ever figured out how to see through a spacetime
distortion bubble, they’d become the richest human who ever lived. As far