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outrun pirates."
    Nabel shook his grizzled head. "What makes ya think I got any ships? I'm not a dealer. I'm in the scrap business." The man's tone was short, hostile; and his eyes cold as space.
    Cale smiled. "A man that strips ships for a living, well, I just gotta believe he'd build himself a sweet little job to run around in. Somethin' small enough to put in the hold of a ship he bought at auction."
    Nabel scowled. "A man's gotta have a way to get to auctions in other systems. But what makes you think I'd sell it? And why would I sell it to you?"
    Cale's smile widened as he reached into his bag and dropped a gold bar on the battered desk. "That's why. I've got gold, and a proposition."
    Nabel's eyes widened at the sight of the gold bar, and then narrowed with suspicion as he looked back at Cale. "What've you got in mind?" His eyes dropped and his fingers began to caress the bar.
    Cale leaned forward his hands resting on the desk. "Here's the proposition. I need a fast ship for a courier job; a one-time, fast job. If I like your ship, I'll buy it. Then I'll make my run. Once I've done the job, I'll bring the ship back, and sell it back to you for, say, half price."
    The old man's eyes gleamed. "So, what you want, you wanta rent my ship. This job. Is it legal? I don't wanta get arrested at an auction for somethin' you did!"
    Cale waved a finger in negation. "No questions. Do you have something, or not?
    Nabel looked up at Cale. He was having trouble tearing his eyes away from half a kilo of pure gold. He swallowed, and then scooped the bar into a desk drawer. "Folla me,"
    As the two worked their way across the yard behind the "office," Cale caught sight of something that excited him. He was pretty sure he saw a stinger-class courier like the one Scorpion was imitating. If everything went well, he might want to talk to Nabel about that hulk–especially, if he had the registration papers on it!
    Nabel led him to a shed made of hull plates. With a flourish that could only be described as pride, he swung open a sagging door. In the dim interior was a small Old Empire courier ship. At first, Cale thought it looked to be in good repair, but he saw nothing to produce Nabel's evident pride. Then his eyes began to adjust to the dimness.
    The front of the tiny ship looked normal. But aft of the passenger area, the hull widened out, and showed a number of odd bumps and bulges. It looked as though the old man had put in larger inertial drives, and a much larger fusactor than the Empire had installed. Cale examined the ship more closely. The modifications were obvious, but the hull plates had been carefully fitted to restore the aerodynamics of a ship that had to fly in planetary atmospheres. L'rak was lettered proudly on the hull in a garish purple. Cale knew that a L'rak was an ugly reptile native to Sata IV that was famed for its speed. The old man touched the handle and the ship's hatch opened smoothly. Internal lights came on, and Nabel waved Cale into the cramped vessel.
    "As ye can see," the old man said, "she's an old Gnat-class courier. But I lost out on a scrap deal because she was too slow. So I give her the inertial engine an' fusactor outta an old Strengl long-range fighter. Had to upgrade th' jump engine, too."
    Cale examined the pilot's panel. Gnat-class couriers had a crew of two, but a man alone could run one. Nabel's modifications had obviously extended to the control panel. Instruments and switches dangled from unmarked wires. Nabel was probably the only man in the universe that could fly this ship with all the jury-rigs. After a moment, though, he began to make sense of the confusion of wires. Most of the wires protruded through openings usually occupied by more traditional instruments. Nabel had not jury-rigged, so much as replaced instruments and switches with others intended for different sized and shaped instrument panels. Everything was worn, but clean, and the instruments themselves looked almost new. Cale