“Ahhh. And now, Misss-ter Du-paay-nil. You wish to ask a favor of the Seti?”

“With all due respect to the honor of the Sek and the eggbearers,” and Dupaynil continued with a memorized string of formalities before coming to the point. “And, if it please the Commissioner, merely to place the gaze of the eye upon the trade records pertaining to die human worlds in Sector Eighteen.”

Another long blast of smelly breath; the Commissioner yawned extravagantly, showing teeth that desperately needed cleaning, although Dupyanil didn’t know if the Seti ever got decay or gum disease.

“Ssector Eighteen,” it said and slapped its tail heavily on the floor.

A Seti servant scuttled in bearing a tray piled with data cubes. Dupaynil wondered if die Door of Honor ignored servants or if they, too, had to take their chances with death. The servant withdrew, and the Commissioner ran its tongue lightly over the cubes. Dupaynil stared, then realized they must be labelled with chemcodes that the Commissioner could taste. It plucked one of the cubes from the pile, and inserted it into a player.

“Ahl What the /umum-dominated Fleet calls Sector Eighteen, the Flower of Luck in Disguise. Trade with human worlds? It is meager, not worth your time.”

“Illustrious and most fortunate scion of a fortunate

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family,” Dupaynil said, “it is my unlucky fate to be at the mercy of admirals.”

This amused the Commissioner who laughed immoderately.

“Sso! It is a matter of luck, you would have me think? Unlucky in rank, unlucky in the admiral who sent you? But you do not believe in luck, so your people say. You believe in ... What is that obscenity? Probabilities? Statistics?”

The old saying about “lies, damn lies, and statistics” popped into Dupaynil’s mind, but it seemed the wrong moment. Instead, he said “Of others I cannot speak, but / believe in luck. I would not have arrived without it”

He did, indeed, believe in luck. At least at the moment. For without his unwise tapping of Sassinak’s com shack, he would not have had the chance to find the evidence he had found. Now, if he could just get through with this and back to FedCentral in time for Tanegli’s trial . . . That would be luck indeed! Apparently even temporary sincerity was convincing. The Seti Commissioner gave him a toothy grin.

“Well. A partial convert. You know what we say about your statistics, don’t you? There are lies, damn lies, and ...”

And I’m glad I didn’t use that joke, Dupaynil thought to himself, since I don’t believe this guy thinks that it is one.

“I will save your eyes the trouble of examining our faultless, but copious, records regarding trade with the Flower of Luck in Disguise. If you were unlucky in your admiral, you shall be lucky in my support. Your clear unwillingness to struggle with this unlucky task shall be rewarded. I refuse permission to examine our records, not because we have anything to conceal, but because this is the Season of Unrepentance, when no such examination is lawful. You are fortunate in my approval for I will give you such refusal as will satisfy the most unlucky admiral.”

Again, a massive tail-slap, combined with a querulous squealing grunt, and the servitor scuttled in with a