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even darker. I took a few breaths so my eyes could adjust, then plunged into the middle of a sea of tiny tables, half of them covered with empties, and the other with unconscious people. Crouched over one of drunks was Vytai Bloombeck.
    I put a hand on his shoulder, and he snapped upright. “I swear, he said it was his turn to pay!” he screeched, holding his hands over his head. A few ruined five-yuan bills quivered in his grip.
    “Sit,” I said, pointing to an empty table.
    He took a breath after hearing my voice, and all the tension seemed to leak out of him as he plopped into a chair. “So glad to see you, Padma, I–”
    “Stop,” I said, sitting across from him. “You are going to tell me everything you know about these Breaches, and you are going to do it with a minimum of bullshit or I call Captain Baghram to come down here and arrest you for rolling drunks. Start.”
    “OK, OK,” said Bloombeck. “So, my guy–”
    “Who is he?”
    “Come on, Padma, you gotta give me something–”
    I tapped my temple, the universal sign for I’m-Making-a-Call-on-My-Pai.
    “Jimney Potts!” he blurted. “Jimney knows all about the ships with the Breaches, I swear!”
    I took my finger away from my head and laughed. “Bloody hell, Bloomie. Jimney owes me more than you do.”
    “You think he don’t know that?” said Bloombeck. “I seen his profile on the Public! He’s holed up tight in Thronehill, thinks you won’t go in there to get him.”
    “But he saw you ,” I said, poking him in the chest and wishing I hadn’t; it felt like prodding a bag of gelatin. “If he’s so busy hiding, why’d he take the risk to talk with you?”
    Bloomie licked his lips and shrugged, which made him look even more pathetic. “We’re old pals, you know? We shared that flat in Partridge Hutong after you moved out–”
    “ Don’t remind me,” I said, wiping my finger on the table. “The way you were always banging around at all hours. Whatever shift I worked, you were always awake.”
    “I had things to do,” he said.
    “So did I, and they usually involved getting a good night’s sleep,” I said. “What did Jimney tell you?”
    “He was between shifts in the burn room, and he overheard some security guys talking about beefing things up on the anchor ’cause they wouldn’t be able to catch the ship in transit. Even caught the name.”
    “Which is?”
    “Oh ho,” said Bloombeck, shaking his head. “Not until you help me out.”
    “I told you, that radar control thing won’t work.”
    “No, I got something better ,” he said, licking his lips. “I got this neighbor, Brittona Snow, owns plot of land out in the kampong, a quarter hectare out at Sag Pond, right?”
    “For what?”
    He shrugged. “A little heirloom cane on the side. Nothing that’ll get her into the Co-Op, but, you know, she’s got a home still, makes an OK batch. I help her to sometimes. Anyway, a couple of years ago, this debris rains down on it from the corporate side of the fence, right? WalWa burning their weekly paperwork, and it just turns her crops to mush. Wipes it all out. Brittona goes to her Union rep–”
    “–who is?”
    Bloombeck made a face. “Evanrute Saarien. Brittona works at Sou’s Reach.”
    My heart sank, then bobbed back up with a burn that hurt. “Figures that asshat would be involved.”
    Bloombeck grinned. “You still sore at him?”
    I made a fist, then made myself relax. “It’s not worth getting into. Continue.”
    “Anyway, Saarien says he’ll bring it up with WalWa, and the whole thing would have gone away, except ” –he leaned across the table, his rummy breath making my eyes flutter–“just this evening, Brittona says WalWa wants to buy her out. For five k.”
    “Then that’s that,” I said. “WalWa rains garbage on Union grower, Union beats up WalWa, grower gets compensation. The great circle of labor continues.”
    “But isn’t that a big deal?”
    “No. They pay off farmers for bits