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Alta, and collecting the rewards. It would be the closest thing he'd ever have to a home.
    "Yeah," Radd said reverently. "A Skymaster SC-8400 long-range cruiser, fully loaded. The same thing McKnight has. Boy, I can't wait to work on that baby."
    "I hope you won't have to for a long time. And I can't say I'll be sorry to see this heap of junk go to scrap."
    Radd closed the flap. "Okay, then, she's ready to go." He took the credit disc Sabin offered him, slid it into his portable collection unit, and entered the charges. Moments later, Radd was gone, fading into the shadows, either off to his own ship or to another lucrative repair job.
    Nothing more to do here. Besides, Sabin had an important delivery to make. But as he took off a short while later, it wasn't the upcoming mission he was thinking about. Instead, visions of remarkable golden eyes and a wealth of burnished hair haunted him.
    Forget her, he told himself. He had no place in his life for a woman. The Pleasure Domes could provide the physical release he needed, without the danger of involvement. He would never have a real home, or the commitment of a mate and a family. If nothing else, his wretched past had shown him that. Yet, even over his brutal self-reminders, thoughts of Moriah, the image of her hair fanning over her skin, persisted.
    "Get a grip, Travers," he muttered to himself. The chance he would ever cross paths with her again were about as good as the sun going nova.
    On impulse, he pulled her ID disc from his pocket and inserted it into the computer, pulling up access to IAR's Universal Citizen Registry. The Registry scanned the code on the disc, and Moriah's picture flashed onto the screen, along with her stats. "Mara Carlen" the name read, with the information that she was licensed to deliver medical supplies, replicator food suspensions, and clothing, to star and Controller bases.
    No way. No legitimate supplier would give a different name from the one on their identification. And no legitimate supplier would be caught dead on Calt. It was far too dangerous. Only the lowest riffraff of the quadrant came to this planet. The exchange of goods here was usually illegal, with exorbitant prices paid without argument.
    Mara/Moriah wasn't who she claimed to be. She wasn't a Controller agent or a shadower either, as he had first suspected, or her identification would have indicated that fact. No, without a doubt, she had to be involved in illegal activities. If that was the case, sooner or later she would be caught. If she was on the Controllers' long list of wanted deviants and criminals, then it was only a matter of time before a shadower tracked her down and turned her in for the bounty.
    A shadower such as himself.
     
    *  *  *  *
     
    Moriah awoke with a start. She noticed immediately that the rhythm of the ship had changed. They must be going into orbit. Again she wished, as she had numerous times since she'd stowed away on Sabin Travers' ship, that her chronometer hadn't been broken by the Jaccians. She had no idea how long she'd been holed up in the lav of this extra cabin, but it seemed she'd been there longer than the three cycles it should have taken to get to Star Base Intrepid. She couldn't afford any more delays.
    Luck had been with her the last hour on Calt. From the shadows of the rocks, she'd seen Sabin head for the settlement. The young man working on the thrusters of Sabin's ship had appeared oblivious to everything around him, and she'd slipped aboard undetected.
    Behind the first panel she checked, she discovered a cabin apparently being used for storage, as it was filled with stacked-up crates. Reluctant to take the time to explore the ship further, she'd hidden in the tiny lav, hoping Sabin wouldn't venture there. She had remained there through takeoff and the long ensuing hours.
    She was stiff and sore from being in such restricted quarters, although she'd tried to stretch as much as possible. Starving, too. She'd gone longer than