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to finagle away from her crew,” Dupaynil went on, embroidering for the mere fun of it. “If we find out that one officer’s been called away for a family crisis, and another’s been given an urgent assignment? Well, I think that would prove it.”

Panis, he was glad to see, accepted all this without difficulty. It did, after all, make sense. Whereas what Sassinak had done, and Dupaynil was still convinced she had done it, made sense only in personal terms: he had trespassed on her hospitality. At least his new explanation might clear her and laid guilt only on those already coated with it.

“So what do you think we should do, aside from avoiding all the unknown friends of the late Major Ollery?”

Dupaynil smiled at him. He liked the way the young man referred to Ollery, and he liked the dry humor.

“I think we should find out who they are, preferably by raiding Ollery’s files. And then it would be most helpful if we’d turn up at the Ireta trial. Tanegli’s trial, I should say. Then we ought to do something about your prisoners before their pod air supplies run out.”

“I forgot about that.” Panis’s eyes flicked to the computer. “Oh, they’re still on ship’s air. Unless you did something to that, too.”

“Didn’t have time. But they don’t have recycling capacity for more than a hundred hours or so, do they? I don’t think either of us wants to let them out, even one by one.”

“No. But I can’t...”

“You can offer them coldsleep, you know. The drugs are there, and the cabinets. They’d be perfectly safe for as long as it takes us to get them to a Fleet facility.”

Panis nodded slowly. “That’s a better alternative than what I thought of. But what if they won’t do it?”

“Warn them. Wait twelve hours. Warn them again and cut them off ship’s air. That’ll give them hours to decide and prepare themselves. Are these the standard pods, with just over 100 hours of air?”

“Yes. But what if they still refuse?”

Dupaynil shrugged. “If they want to die of suffoca-

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tion rather than fece a court martial, that’s their choice. We can’t stop it without opening the pods and I can’t advise that. Only Siris has any injuries, and his aren’t bad enough to prevent his taking the induction medications.”

When push came to shove, though most of them blustered, only three waited until the ship ventilators cut out. The senior mate, Dupaynil noticed, was one of diem. All the crew put themselves into coldsleep well before the pod air was gone. When the last one’s bioscans went down, Dupaynil and Panis celebrated with the best the galley offered.

Dupaynil had found that the crew kept special treats in their quarters. Nothing as good as fresh food, but a tin of sticky fruitcake and a squat jar of expensive liquor made a party.

“I suppose I should have insisted on sealing the crew quarters,” Panis said around a chunk of cake.

“But you needed to search them for evidence.”

“Which I’m finding.” Dupaynil poured for both of them with a flourish. “The mate kept a little book. Genuine pulp paper, if you can believe that. I’m not sure what all the entries mean . . . yet. . . but I doubt very much they’re innocent. Ollery’s personal kit had items far out of line for his Fleet salary, not to mention that nonissue set of duelling pistols. We’re lucky he didn’t blow a hole in you with one of those.”

“You sound like a mosquito in a bloodbank,” Panis grumbled. “Fairly gloating over all the data you might Sid.”

“I am,” Dupaynil agreed. “You’re quite right; even without this,” and he raised his glass, “I’d be drunk with delight at the possibilities. Do you have any idea how hard we normally work for each little smidgen of information? How many times we have to check and recheck it? The hours we burn out our eyes trying to find correlations even computers can’t see?”

“My heart bleeds,” said Panis, his mouth twitching.

“And you’re only a Jig. Mulvaney’s Ghost, but you’re going to make one formidable commodore.”