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“Borrowed help,” Allison said. The corridor was clean. The inside of the lift car was clean, spit and polish. “Young Dubliners wanted some exercise.”
The lift let them out in the lounge/bridge area. Scrubbed decks, polished panels, every smudge and smear and tarnish cleared away. It looked new again, except for the tape patches on the upholstery. “You cleaning her up to take possession?” he asked outright.
“No,” Allison said.
“Can’t touch anything without fingerprinting it.”
“That’s fine. It’s old habits.”
He looked back at them standing there, reckoned how the place would feel without them. Nodded then. “Looks like she used to,” he admitted, and turned back and walked onto the bridge.
She went out, Le Cygne did, with empty holds, moving lightly as she could in that condition.
Comp talked to them, commending them that they had got it right. Jump coming up, Sandy. Find your referent.”
“Got it,” Allison said from number two post, talking back to comp and to him, and the numbers came up on the screen.
The checks came in from the others, routine matters.
They headed for Pell, for station cargo this time, and reckoned Dublin would pass them on the way. There was a bet on, inside Le Cygne, about elapsed-time and drinks when they got there. He reckoned to win it, knowing his ship.
But it was all one account, anyway.
Table of Contents
Chapter I 4
Chapter II 12
Chapter III 17
Chapter IV.. 22
Chapter V.. 27
Chapter VI 33
Chapter VII 39
Chapter VIII 42
Chapter IX.. 47
Chapter X.. 53
Chapter XI 56
Chapter XII 61
Chapter XIII 66
Chapter XIV.. 71
Chapter XV.. 74
Chapter XVI 78
Chapter XVII 80
Chapter XVIII 85