Starvan

By Sharon L Reddy

Contains both Bronze Dragon and Sapphire Wind

"There were times Dance didn't ask questions. When the young man, flashing enough jewels to blind her, ran around the corner and dove through the open back door of the car she'd rented, Dance just kicked it shut and turned toward the delivery door of the import shop, where she was headed with the load in her arms. She was the first woman he'd ever seen.

When a starvan ran from his wedding, nets came out all over human space. They translated it as "prince of investment." Even some of his own people had forgotten what it really meant.

The Shadow Syndic made an error. They thought they could use a starvan as bait for a trap, but his loved friend was still alive. The top man thought human space was his. There is only one true king! The dragon king!

Music, laughter and love in an adventure that sweeps across human space and ends the self-imposed penance of the clans.

Sharon Reddy:
"One of my best. It never slows down."

About books by Sharon L Reddy, reviewers said:

recluse:
"The author is a fine wordsmith who possesses a marvelous imagination."

Raven's Reviews:
"...unique, fast-paced style ...allows one to read almost as fast as one can think."
"...romantic brain-candy... If you like almost any kind of men at all, you'll like hers..."

Mistress of the Dark Path:
"...you will also notice your mind is stimulated."
"...designed for a more educated and worldly crowd."

R. Cagle:
"I got hooked immediately."

Marji Holt:
"The characters came out of the books and into my dreams."

Twenty-four titles. Start your collection today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon L Reddy
• Release date: Jun 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781583385593

Sharon L Reddy

I write science fiction romance, but it's the literary definition of romance. Swashbuckle, Baby, in "white tie and tails." High romantic fantasies, million word mysteries, family sagas, statesmen, gurus and wise immortals. Loving dads, sons and brothers, and of course, the women who understand and appreciate them. High fashion and landscape design. Materials and art, the books are built to be read very fast, specifically for the way women visualize. Research on the soap operas of the fifties, trends in international populist (fan) fiction, technological development, and above all, long-term entertainment value. It has to be good in reruns. The intent is create a body of work that's just fun to read, in spurts or bursts over decades. Ethics, responsibility, nobless oblige, the power of money, the use of prestige. I write good guys win. Period. They're fantasies for women. Men with lots of muscle say, "I love you," a lot.Most of what is currently published was written in the first decade, 1991-1999, before Mother Nature changed my personal definition of "mature audience." I hope you'll remain with me as I and my work mature and enjoy the second decade of my work now being published, as well.I've lived many places and visited far more. My current residence is on a high mesa in New Mexico, in the United States, where I am engaged in a habitat restoration project.Explanation of the Pilots Group:Some of these works have been sitting on my hard drive close to twenty years and they're no fun for anyone just sitting there. They're exactly what they've been titled, pilots, like for a TV series. It is my intent and hope that other writers will choose to continue the adventures of the characters. There are only three restrictions. Don't kill off my heroes, don't make good guys bad guys and give my story credit if you publish. Yes, you may publish and make money on your stories. I loved reading and writing fan fiction, but the limitations on it could be frustrating, so... Have fun with these works that specifically don't have them.

Book preview

Sharon L Reddy

Starvan

copyright

1995, 2011

Double Novel

Contains Bronze Dragon and Sapphire Wind

Target Yonder

Millennium Works Collection

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 978-1-58338-559-3

Cover NASA, STScI, Hubble Telescope

Part One

Bronze Dragon

©1995, 2011

Chapter One

There were times Dance didn't ask questions. When the young man flashing enough jewels to blind her ran around the corner and dove through the open back door of the car she'd rented, she just kicked it shut and turned toward the delivery door of the import shop, where she was headed with the load in her arms.

Seven men ran around the corner and one of them yelled at her. He asked which way the man in white had been going. She balanced her load in one arm, carefully lined the other up with the direction he'd been traveling when he dove into the car, and pointed. The men ran down the street and she delivered her load. She was just returning to the car when the seven men returned, looking quite displeased. She got in the car, drove around the corner the opposite way they'd gone and stopped. She looked over the seat and into light eyes sparkling with humor.

Thank you, angel of mercy.

You run off with that vault you're wearing?

No, the gems on the jacket are mine. Of course, they wouldn't have been in a few minutes. Who are you, besides an angel of mercy?

Captain Dance Lorimer. I own the trader Dealer's Choice.

How fortuitous. How soon are you leaving Combine?

Soon. Why?

I wish to purchase passage to anywhere you're going. If only your crew know I have left this world, they'll look for me here awhile longer.

I'm my crew and I don't take passengers.

Ah, but you have already chosen to do so. You chose when you closed that door and sent my cousins astray. Captain, I need help, but I can pay for it. Take me to your ship and leave me on it. I won't leave it and I certainly won't steal it. I'd never get off the ground.

If the gems are yours, why were they chasing you?

If I'd tossed the jacket and everything else at their feet, they'd have leapt them and pursued me. They're just gems. I was, and am, the jewel they seek. Rescue me, Lady. I shall make it worthwhile. I promise this to you.

Why do I believe you?

Because I'm totally unaccustomed to telling untruth and you very experienced in knowing when someone has. A trader must be to remain a trader long. I have broken no law of this world and taken nothing not mine. I swear this.

Dance didn't really want to ask herself why she turned into the spaceport. The beautiful young man who'd hidden in the car was going to change her very comfortable life. She knew it and pulled up next to the hatch and opened it anyway. She was still trying to decide if it was a shock of silky light brown hair over pale green/blue eyes and wide shoulders, or the fact the shoulders were encrusted in gems, which had been the reason, when he dashed from the car to the ship. She followed him in and started liftoff procedures with spaceport control. It would take awhile to complete them, but most were automated and she wasn't required.

We'll lift off in about four hours. I still have some things to do.

Include this please.

A cred account slip?

The number is written on the back. Please remove all funds from that numbered account and put them in another. This is its number. I shall take my inheritance from my mother and my own earnings. That account number is in my uncle's hands. He doesn't know I have it, so won't realize I have taken my funds for some time. I swear it's mine. I will ask you to break no law.

If I'm not breaking laws, why am I so sure I'm getting myself in trouble?

Because you're wise enough to know there is much greater trouble in many things which do not break laws. I'm not breaking any either, Captain. I just need to get away from them.

Why?

Because they were about to marry me off to a woman in her hundreds and place all my assets in her hands.

I'd have run.

It seemed sensible. It also seemed I wouldn't get the chance, or it would be a very short run.

But still you tried.

Still I tried. That account is not new and has had large amounts deposited and removed many times. I've spent many years preparing. A deposit to it will not seem unusual, not even of the size that shall be. Withdraw and deposit, Captain. Do not transfer. Take out the fee for passage. It will change the amount nicely. You hold what I've done with my own life in your hands. It belongs to no other, but they would use it... I said if I escaped, I'd forgive them all. I'll find some way to do it. It may even be simple once I've broken the bindings. And taken back what is mine!

He watched her go through the hatch and smiled. She was a lovely, fit woman in mid-life. He judged her to be about sixty, but had no illusions about the possible inaccuracy of his judgment. She was full-figured, but still slender. What age would have thickened, hard work had slimmed. Her dark hair was interesting. He remembered a snatch of poetry or song lyric he'd heard about hair like a raven's wing. He did know ravens were black. Now he understood the reference. And she hadn't asked who he was. She knew she just didn't want to know yet. His destiny was nearly in his hands and the tool of its deliverance was a woman. He thought it quite fitting, but he'd always thought Fate loved irony. He began to shiver and calmed himself. Soon he would be free, completely and forever. He searched for a place to wait. By the time he found it, he knew something was wrong.

Dance didn't hurry. There was no point. Liftoff clearance took time and it came when it did. Three hours was a miracle. Twelve wasn't unknown. Shuttle traffic and orbital lanes all had to be cleared for a ship to lift. Hers was small or it wouldn't be on the ground, but it was still a ship. The path needed to be clear when she hit escape boost.

She checked the price listed by one of the big travel, not luxury, lines for passage to Stump. She used her merchant's debit to deduct it from the credit chip she'd gotten when she cleaned out an account with a balance that had made her blink, then deposited the chip in the other numbered account. She'd rather expected it would. He looked pretty young. That meant he'd made enough money someone had asked his clan for him in marriage. It had probably been an important part of, perhaps the reason for, a trade treaty negotiation.

Over the next two hours, she cleared her debit unit into her account five times. She made six stops to collect money owed and it was her practice to make many deposits. She broke the amount for the passage into unequal 'chunks' and added one to each deposit. She paid the optional traders' dues on Combine instead of tax on sales. Sometimes she barely cleared it, but she preferred it being a known expense, and she didn't feel it was necessary anyone on Combine know how well, or badly, she was doing.

Dance was actually cutting it close to her estimate of the minimum time for liftoff clearance when she caught a ride on a shuttle loader and jumped off near her ship, with the last item she'd picked up and two credit chips in her hand. She'd decided he'd need some cash and didn't know if he had any. The item she'd picked up was a man's travel kit. She'd guessed his size on the ship suit, but she was quite confident it would fit. It didn't take her long to find him. He was laying on the deck of the bridge.

The ritual. Wine. Do you have wine?

Yes.

I need three glasses. They wouldn't kill me and they would touch nothing in the ritual, or me when it was done. It has to be in the ritual and that's wine. Red wine, I think. Three glasses. Help me. I... have never asked mercy, but I ask yours.

Mercy is for when you're deciding to kill somebody, not keep them alive. You just plain need help and I just plain decided to give it. If they wouldn't kill you, why the fear?

Because... agony til the ritual was complete is an effective tool of coercion, if one believes some higher being has an interest in making sure the wedding takes place. Moving... hurts. Help me get in a position to drink the wine.

He screamed when she moved him and she practically poured a bottle of Chianti down his throat. It suddenly occurred to her that, if he did get better, he'd be drunk and his idea of a glass and hers were probably quite different. Chugging two-thirds of a liter was probably overdoing it.

Whoa. I think we're being a bit eager on this. We may need to replace what I poured and you gulped. Am I going to have a religious jihad trailing me across space?

No, I'll buy the first woman who offers her favors to me wherever we're going and they'll lose all interest in finding me.

Huh?

I won't be a virgin anymore. Surely you know only virgins are worthwhile as sacrifices.

Kid, you make me real nervous. You have to get on a lift couch, or we have to wait until you can.

I understand. It won't kill me. It's only pain. I shall make it there. It's closest.

The command chair is closest and I've got everything duped at the nav station. We go up, then back two steps. I'll guide. For two steps, I can hold you up.

Yes, you're beautiful muscle from good physical work. A woman... should have muscle. I didn't know that. It's not mentioned in the poetry I've... read.

Is the pain easing?

No, but I've identified it as only pain. As a tool of coercion, I can fight it with obstinacy. If it was attempted murder, I'm sure I'd be thinking faster. I intend to enjoy life and I have to live to do it.

That was in doubt?

Which part? The first, definitely. The latter, not as much.

Traffic Control to Dealer's Choice.

Captain Dance Lorimer here, Cookie.

You're cleared to lift in three, Dance. Beginning countdown at one-eighty now.

Dance got busy. Three minutes was minimum allowed. Cookie knew something was up and was getting her off fast. She heard him clear four other ships for the next twenty minutes. He'd opened a wide window and was pushing everything ready through it. She wondered if Cookie knew she was the one carrying the boy. She hit ignition on the mark and lifted. Her last exterior view of the port was of three official-looking cars pulling up to the port offices.

Dance heard two other ships lifting. She always ran open comm until she got out of planetary range. She was still listening when a great deal of yelling started in traffic control. A third and fourth ship lifted while the yelling was going on. She was still in range when Cookie cleared twelve waiting shuttles and someone squealed. She chuckled. Cookie had an attitude about people who tried to throw their weight around. He also had a right, as traffic controller, to ignore anyone and anything while he was working ships. Shuttles were handled by computer. Windows for ships were created by the traffic controller. Five at a time was not unusual. Opening a window was too much trouble to do for less than two, which was why it was sometimes a twelve-hour wait for clearance.

In flight and internal grav on. How you doing, kid?

Not extremely well. My stomach hates me and, since my back feels wet, I think I'm bleeding.

What?!

The gems on my clothes were not designed to accommodate high-g liftoff. They made some holes, I think. It's minor. It would have hurt far more to get them off at the time. That has lessened a great deal, but I think I'm getting drunk fast. I've never had wine before, or any other alcoholic beverage.

Dance carefully got the jacket off and almost yelped when she saw what was beneath. The shirt was almost more scintillating diamonds than white cloth, but red stain was spreading across the back. When she got that off, there was a gem-studded vest beneath and the back of it wasn't white anymore. When she began to pull it off, he gasped. The gem sets had cut through the vest in several places and the skin of his back as well. Dance was literally pulling some of them from his back as she removed the vest. She hit his back with anesthetic spray as soon as she got it off, then grabbed a handful of the towelettes she kept on the bridge and cleaned the blood from him.

Nasty, but no binding needed that I can see. You've got an ugly pattern of cuts, but I don't think you'll be scarred.

That didn't worry me, but it's pleasant to know.

Oh, here's a cred chip. I thought you might need some cash and it seemed reasonable to change the balance a bit more. I took out the cost of liner travel to Stump. That's where we're headed.

Sounds great. You're great. And very beautiful.

I'm old enough to be your grandmother.

And far too young to be my wife, pretty Dance.

You're drunk.

My nose tingles. Is that drunk?

It's my first sign I've had enough and it's time to quit.

They didn't know they had more trouble til he suddenly grunted and went to his knees on the way to the lounge. Whatever they'd given him had one more function. The young bridegroom was guaranteed to be eager on his wedding night. He wasn't going to have the time he needed. He had real problems and knew it.

Dance had three ex-husbands and four grown sons. She didn't even think about it before she stripped him to find out why he'd grabbed himself. When she got him out of the jeweled pants and gemmed briefs, she swore and went back for the anesthetic spray, towelettes and a cutter. She was pretty sure he didn't have the key for the wide gold band around his cock or he'd have gotten it off. She had a suspicion she knew what had been used on him. If she was right, he was in for a rough, desperate, time. She knew she was right when she cut the ring, he screamed and ejaculated, and didn't even begin to soften.

You're in it, kid. That's longjack, or there's something around I've never heard about and that's unlikely. If it is, it's going to get worse before it gets better. Come on, let's get you to a bed.

You would... help me?

Well, I'm certainly not going to lock you in some place and listen to you scream til you pass out several hours from now. You'll be out of it in minutes and incoherent for hours. You'll be able to do, and think of, only one thing. They'll know you're offplanet. You'd be very easy to find if you weren't. You'd be screaming in the streets.

Love me, beautiful Dance. Don't let them have me. Please. I've worked so long to be ready to run. My brother helped. He opened the window. He can do what was asked. He wants to do it. His dowry wasn't highest. If I'm not virgin, he will be the choice.

Dance sighed, noted she wasn't adverse to the idea of spending several hours in the sack with a gorgeous young male and helped him to her bed. She left him briefly to assemble 'make do' of what he'd need before the drug left his system. Longjack wasn't illegal, but it wasn't used much either. It did exactly what it said. It kept a man ready and wanting for hours.

A friend of hers said it wasn't used because one dose convinced anybody they didn't want anything more to do with it. She'd been with a man who'd thought he wasn't satisfying her and he'd used it. Dance remembered the expression on her friend's face and climbed into bed with the kid whose name she carefully hadn't asked. She brought her years of experience of loving men to fill the terrible need the drug created.

He took her in his arms and whispered his pleasure she was the first woman he'd ever held. She warned him of what was coming and he smiled softly. The warning was what he'd really needed.

I won't let it be like that. No man of my people would, so I know I can prevent it. To do it, I would have had to... create real love for the old woman. My brother already admires what he's heard of her. I already have caring for you and you created it. You're also sleek and healthy and very lovely. I don't have to build an emotional bond, then will it to truth, to want to make love to you. The wine fogs me as well, but neither can make me an unthinking animal. That would be terrible for a woman and we wouldn't do it. Teach me to make love. My heart will pound to the sensual. I can't stop the need, but I can control it.

You're gorgeous, kid, and I'm thoroughly impressed, but I don't like some of your decorations.

The ring in my nipple is symbolic. It's done under anesthetic. It's the reminder I wear that a woman... I won't remove it. It's very much part of who I am and the ideograph on it is my mother's name.

And the diamond stud?

Um, I don't know. Your touch is fire burning through me. Your skin is cool and burns against me. Your breasts are incredibly perfect. The muscle tone beneath them deepens their excitement.

A diamond stud in your scrotum is pretty odd and I'm not sure I like it.

It's a pledge any male child I sire has a home and place among my people if his mother seeks it for him. They will also aid my daughters if needed. If I remove it, that pledge doesn't stand. I'll give it thought when I can. Now, I can only concentrate on the feel of your pubic hair mingling with mine.

One doesn't see many circumcised men these days.

Call it... another piece of identification. I'm Studan Baine Jerod Sharif Dawson, Starvan of the Toll-Reed clan.

Holy shit! How old are you?

Legally adult, or I couldn't be married. Oh, help me, please. It's not going to give me time… to get to know you, and I want it.

Dance put the part of her mind yelling she had one of the most prized males in the galaxy in her arms, and she was in deep shit, on hold and taught him to make love. If he'd run away, he was sure it was the right thing to do and the result would be better for all. His personal fortune was his, until he married. After that, it belonged to his wife. A starvan's, any clansman's, skills, talents and training were also his wife's and he served her with total commitment and real love until death parted them. If there were children, he took his youngest son and returned to his clan. When his grief eased, he was free to begin to make money for himself and his clan.

The clans all had holdings on several worlds and investments in properties, farms, mines, businesses and services of all types everywhere. Their religion was heavily documented, but only they seemed to understand it. The god they worshipped was a goddess and that's just how they put it. There were no women in the clans, but widowers had no trouble finding feminine companionship. The unmarried were never seen. She was rather sure they weren't allowed outside clan compounds at all, except for when they received ship training and those ships left and returned to the compounds.

Dance suddenly realized she was probably the first woman the starvan had ever seen. There was no outside video in clan compounds and no recorded music. Very few clansmen did not make music and most were accomplished musicians. All were good investors and boys' dowries were a combination of inheritance from their mothers and their own earnings on investments they made from the time they could operate a computer. The gems 'her' starvan had been wearing were probably a way of moving his fortune without giving the interbank system indigestion.

For hours, he trembled with desire in her arms and they made passionate, but gentle, love. She taught him the pleasures of his own body as he learned to pleasure hers. When the truth of all the drug did washed through him, she could feel his anger, then acceptance.

There would have been at least three in his wedding bed. The old woman would not have found ways to help the need as Dance had. She'd have just called for a male to take care of the last need the drug forced on him, and probably another woman to take her place when she had tired. He smiled wryly. His brother would like that too, especially if his bride watched.

When it was finally over, he kissed her gently and smiled. She looked even more beautiful to him than she had many hours before. He'd leave her at Stump, or soon after, but she would always be a friend and they both knew it.

They called me Reef when I was small. I like it better than Studan still. I think I'll just lose that one.

Lose it?

I've no need to change my name, except it's much longer than I want to carry. There's also no need to flaunt the fact the Starvan of Toll-Reed ran away. The Cressetti don't need, or deserve, a starvan. The important alliances and contracts are negotiated. My brother is good. He'll like dealing with grain market projections and shipping schedules. They don't need more, but I was available and it would have been an insult to seal the treaty with another while I was. They stalled until I was.

Why settle for a nice bank account and fellow when you can get the goose who lays the golden eggs and all the eggs to date as well? The clans really won't hunt for you, but others will.

I know. A loose starvan will bring out a lot of nets. I don't plan on advertising. Shall I drop Baine or Jerod along with Studan and Toll-Reed?

Jerod, unless you want to be called Jerry.

Baine Sharif Dawson, definitely. I like Great-grandfather Baine and Uncle Jerod and I do not agree on most things. I wonder who will become the next starvan and if anyone will ever top my earnings.

That sounded smug.

It is. I was in the eighty percent bracket by age eleven.

Huh?

I was in our top tax bracket. I designated it for education. Every clan school got a comp system upgrade and a new university has been built on Rendas. Tuition is free.

On Rendas, it would have to be. Nicest use of money I can think of.

I was pleased. I set up an investment portfolio which will pay its expenses.

I thought starvan meant prince.

Approximately, but it's not hereditary. All other titles, but not that one. It means I have been acknowledged the best unmarried business operator in the clan, and contributed enough to earn a place for all my sons and support for my daughters if needed. I was the youngest ever to earn the diamond and the pledge. I'm now retired.

Warriors of investment.

The warrior part is not needed often.

Warrior part?

Our culture is a warrior culture, Dance. I learned to use a sword while learning to use my comp to analyze the market. I learned to plan a battle while learning to write a contract. One must also be an accomplished warrior to be starvan. We arose out of a mercenary group who fought on the wrong side. Tragedy twice struck the wives and children of that group of all males. Women were not warriors, nor treated equally. Twice we lost all, when once disease and once violence claimed them. It was then we knew we'd been terribly wrong. God is goddess and we had failed to understand how precious women are. The nipple ring says one woman found us worthy of existence and gave her son that we might survive. It's in the nipple to remind us we are incomplete without those who give and teach love to a babe as it suckles. I'm afraid, as a group, we have a breast fetish.

"So why circumcised?'

An extremely stubborn fungus which took us four years to eradicate about two hundred years ago. Circumcision of infants removed its preferred habitat. The councils knew little boys, being little boys, had a tendency to get damp and not clean well. A second outbreak of 'head itch' brought a decision. There was no doubt little boys suffered. The men suffered. Only those who had been circumcised during the previous outbreak were easily treated. From that time on, clan sons have been circumcised. Always under anesthetic, Dance, don't frown so. The fungus was learned to be a mutated strain of tinnea. It was so virulent, clan holdings and ships were quarantined until it could be eliminated. My great-grandfather told me his grandfather said every man in space would have hated us if we hadn't contained it. We're quite proud of the fact we did. We've been trying to get rid of athlete's foot since we started walking. I've heard a physician propose the theory we developed intelligence to find away to get our feet to stop itching. It came back. It was everywhere humans are. Head itch is not. An all-male society got rid of something that would have made all men miserable. So, circumcision has become an identifying mark of a clansman, and I'm the first you've ever lain with or you'd have asked before.

Yes, I would have. I picked up a ship kit for you. I figured a change of clothes was definitely in order. The suit will fit. I have three ex-husbands and four grown sons. I can fit a man by eye.

Thank you.

They became real friends over the next sixteen days. On the second day, they picked gems off his wedding garb. Those on the outer garments were rather well-set gems. The task had left them both laughing and hunting where they'd popped to on their hands and knees. They still weren't sure they had them all. Reef said, if they didn't, they'd found their way back to normal space. They'd had a great deal of fun since. Dance was rather pleased so much of it had been in her bed. It had been awhile since she'd had a steamy love affair. When they reached Stump, she was almost sorry to dock at the space portal.

Stump allowed nothing but private yachts under a certain size to land. Dealer's Choice didn't fit either category, but she wasn't much oversize. Dance led Reef off her into the portal. He mouthed 'wow' and she laughed. Stump Portal was the funnel for goods to a world and everyone who came to sell them.

Stump Portal is one of the biggest space stations there is, but it's not self-supporting. About two hundred thousand people move through it daily.

I know the figures on cargoes unloaded, loaded and transferred here, but the visual reality is astounding. You watch it moved. It's an incredible visual effect.

Every one of those transparent tubes can be linked with every other cargo transfer chute. If I had something to transship, I'd code it, mark it and load it onto the conveyor, which I didn't order attached to my cargo hatch, and it would be computer-directed to another ship. On arrival, I'd get an acknowledgment. Now, all around this beautiful web of fortunes being moved, are the places that make disposing of that money a simple task. That way gem exchange. That way shops. Which first?

Gem exchange. Steer me please. I'm planning on a stiff neck from watching through the wall. The specifications for this transparent wall were so stringent that it actually made more sense to make the cargo transport chutes out of the material which was developed. The patents on the process made a fortune. They're now making their ninth. I made a rather nice one along with them on the eighth. This wrap around my middle feels weird.

Well, I certainly prefer it to wishing I had guns to guard you. That bag you had made me nervous. Wrapping them in cloth and around your middle makes me less so.

When they reached the gem exchange, about a five-minute walk, Reef read the exchange prices, unrolled the cloth and selected colored stones. He laid emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and a handful of diamonds from his pocket, on the black velvet display pad and put the wrap back around his waist. An exchange gemologist got there fast.

Reef looked around while Dance counted gems and watched the gemologist. The exchange was a large room tastefully done in pale tan carpet and 'wood' paneling. The brown assessment and trade counters with black-based magnifying lamps and black gem pads were nicely set off by comfortable-looking black and brown chairs. It wasn't extremely busy at the moment, but there were stations enough to show it could get that way. He noted four guards, and two people trying not to look at his waistline.

The gemologist graded the gems and gave Reef a comp list bill of sale to sign. He looked it over, did a quick tally of posted prices and signed it Baine Sharif Dawson. The gemologist inserted it in his computer and handed Reef a cred chip. He set the use code immediately. Only the four digits he entered on the keypad on the surface of the five-cen diameter disk would allow its use. Since they had to be entered by living human fingers, the length of time required to 'break' a code made it very tedious and time-consuming chore. Stealing other items, such as gems, brought a great deal more profit with much less effort. He put the chip in his pocket with the rest of the diamonds he'd brought, and led Dance out the door.

We have, I have, attracted attention already. Two took careful note what I did not put on the pad. They're not the type who will take personal action, but I think a place to stash my belt is in order.

Security lockers down that way. Turn left.

Very nice. In, coded and locked.

Very fast.

It's a cross-corridor. If we come out on the other side soon enough, no one will realize I've used one. I'm going to need identification, aren't I?

Yes, but I don't know what to do about it.

Where would one go to get it here?

What?

If you needed new, or additional, identification here, where would you go?

The admin office. That way, four decks up.

Where do you wish to meet?

You're going alone?

Yes. I'll tell no lies, but the ethics of what I intend are... iffy and I'd rather involve no one else.

Reef, how iffy?

I plan on letting them answer most of the questions and having them think I did.

I have no idea what you mean, but it'll probably be interesting, and I probably don't want to know the details. Right there. The Turbo is about my favorite place on this junk pile. Wait. It's a bar. Are you old enough to get in?

Legal age?

Eighteen.

No problem. Is the legal age eighteen most places?

It ranges from about seventeen to twenty-five, with eighteen to twenty-one E-standard years being most common. Eighteen is most common in space. Twenty-one most common on planets, I think.

Thanks. I can tell you how much alcohol a planetary population consumes, but not how old one should be to participate in the consumption. I'll be there.

Reef didn't know quite how he was going to do it, but identification was essential and he had to get it without revealing his true age, or giving his full name, if possible. He was legally an adult. The council had ruled him one on his birthday. He smiled when he took the lift. Five men had taken the other. He could see them just below him through the transparent side. Maybe they'd be of assistance. It seemed appropriate he get something from them. They seemed to want something from him. He took his time. They were a bit behind.

They caught up and shoved him into a side corridor. He allowed them to land a couple good punches, then put them out in rapid succession. He dragged two of them down the corridor and into the admin office. He noted he had a split lip in his reflection in the shiny black door, as he pulled them through, and made a mental note to pick up something for it from the pharmacist's he'd passed before he took the lift. The clerk looked very surprised at his load. He was pleased she was at a desk and not behind a counter. It would make things simpler.

There are three more in the first cross-corridor to the right of the doors. I really dislike being attacked twice before I've been somewhere an hour. I'm going to get really angry if it happens again. They evidently thought I still had the gems I didn't trade on me. Idiots.

Security is on the way, Gen.

Thanks. I should have yelled for them before, I suppose, but pushy drunks aren't usually a problem for me. These are different. They're thieves. Do see if you can find those who set them on me.

Reef didn't know what his smile did to a woman. It wouldn't have been near as devastating if he had. He hadn't seen any he didn't think incredibly beautiful. He didn't know his smile made them feel that way. The woman got quite helpful.

Now I find I'm no longer in possession of my identification. Which, of course, is why I was coming here. I can... prove who I am, I think, but I'd feel a little odd dropping my pants to show I'm a clansman. I'd like to avoid that if possible. Let's see, my name, or all I use of it, is Baine Sharif Dawson. Here, let me enter it. Only Dawson is spelled as it sounds. There. Ah, there I am.

You're in our files all right.

"Wait! Don't print it! That age... Perhaps it's Culvert years. I wouldn't be a widower at that age, now would I? Try doing the conversion. I'm very young to be a widower, but that young and I'd be barely of age to marry and that would take a council decision.

He smiled warmly at her while she did the conversion. Of course he was in her files. He'd created one when he entered his name. He'd also slipped in a little select function. He was qualified for every credential on the code list, which included file references, adhesed to her monitor. Since it was there, it had seemed reasonable to use it. Every fifth key she touched added another to his file. The system was exceedingly simple. He wondered what his file would contain when she finished with it. She handed him a gold ID plaque just as a security captain walked in the door with a squad of three behind him. He walked over and handed it to him. That's when he learned what one of the credentials was.

Captain Dawson, we need a statement.

While doing business at the gem exchange, I noticed two men taking note I hadn't traded a large number, which I returned to my waist wrap. I, of course, quickly put them in a security locker. That one said, 'It's around his waist.' After that, I didn't feel I need wait for any other indication of motive. Besides, one of the others packed quite a punch and I thought one split lip enough. I was coming here because I needed that. An earlier incident was responsible for my need. I just don't feel it's necessary to bother you for every pair of drunks who need a nap. These were quite different.

I agree. They obviously didn't know who you are. How'd you get to be a captain at nineteen? And, well, why aren't you at home?

I've done most things at an age that required waivers and such. My marriage required full council approval before contracted and then had to wait until I reached minimum age. My birthday was my wedding day, but that's all past now and I'm on my own. I'm just too young to be comfortable with the widowers at home. It's one of the times my age would truly be a problem.

Your age?

There's no one, except unmarried boys, even close to my age in our clan holdings. I don't have much in common with the boys anymore, and though they haven't stated such, the men obviously feel I should be in unmarried quarters. Those in unmarried quarters are, by definition, marriageable. I have no intention of being married off, even if I am younger than many unmarrieds. Losing one loved wife is enough for any man to deal with. In all, I was a problem. Now, I am not.

You're here to trade gems?

Not really. I'm currently traveling and looking for a ship I want. I'm in no hurry to find one and enjoying being just a passenger immensely. Captain, the gems were mine. The clans often use gems instead of credit chips for large personal settlements. You'll find there have been no thefts of gems like those I sold reported. I'm really quite pleased. I got more per carat than their cash value when I received them. I didn't sell more because that would have brought the price down.

A security guard stuck her head in the door and said one of the men was talking fast. It seemed someone had mentioned the clans really disliked people who tried to steal from them and he'd gotten very helpful. The captain excused Reef. His statement was recorded and it didn't sound like he'd be needed further as a witness. Reef said he'd check before leaving and headed for the Turbo.

He idly wondered how far his file had traveled. It would create one wherever there should be one, whenever the main comp on Stump Portal sent a message to one of those places. His estimate was the information should reach anywhere he was going before he could get there. He'd have to really check the codes some time. There was only one issuing authority for each credential and he'd designated all were to be granted within the last two years. He didn't want to ask the issuing authority for when and where he got them.

Reef stopped by the pharmacist's. He looked at his split lip and handed him a tiny tube of ointment for it and a larger one for the area around it. The two topical treatments would keep the tissues from swelling and promote healing in the case of the split lip. The estimate of five hours to look presentable pleased him. The pharmacist laughed and told him ship crews knew showing up for duty looking like they'd been in a brawl reminded their officers they'd had to bail them out, and the two ointments were a good part of his profit margin. Reef used the ointments before he stopped and bought study disks for captaincy and a few other credentials on his ID plaque.

He knew he had the ship hours required, even for captain. Most clansmen over the age of ten did. He would make sure he fulfilled all other requirements as well. By the time he reached the Turbo and showed his plaque to the person at the door, who was sure he didn't look eighteen or older, he was smiling widely. The galaxy was filled with lovely women. He especially liked the dark-haired beauty waiting for him.

What happened to you?

I waited til one of them said, 'It's around his waist,' before preparing them for security pickup. One valid identification.

It's gold.

I noticed. I also noticed that means captain. Dance, I didn't rig it to do that. I just programmed it to select from the credential file and keyed it to the number of strokes the clerk made.

How'd you get into their comp?

I did it while I typed in my name. I used the command pad with my left hand while I typed with my right. The pad was online. I didn't expect to hit that one, but I didn't exclude it because I could qualify. I swear to you I will not captain a ship until I have assured I have completed all requirements for everything selected. I have a great deal of ship experience and you know it.

Yes, I do. Just give it time. Don't just study the text. Let it sink in. Don't do it until you're ready for all the parts of it. Being called 'Captain' sets you apart. Part of the effort to attain that status is learning to be ready for that.

Is it worse than Starvan, Dance?

I don't know. I know my four sons are very proud of me, but all chose to be with their fathers and I knew it was the right choice. One's a liner captain now. We understand each other pretty well. We didn't before. I've got a grandson your printed age. He's sure my life is the most romantic in existence and flat loves the hard work that goes with it. Since I totally agree, my son gets nervous when I visit, but he handed him the tuition for a ship maintenance course when his marks in math improved. I told him computers break and it's nice to know you can do astro-nav in your head if you need to aim an escape pod at a liner route.

Have you?

No, and I keep Choice choice to see I don't ever need to. That's the other part of it. A one-person ship is you keeping you alive in space and it's a full-time job. Relaxation is for planets. If you land, it's more than a full-time job and you hire specialists to assist. It must be less expensive to do that than rent a shuttle and a room or I'm out of business anyway. I like Stump because the docking fees for a ship like Choice are really reasonable. There are enough classes of fees to make them reasonable, fair, for each individual ship. The big transshippers love people like me. We bring things here and they move massive amounts there, where more people like me deliver the loads. That's what I'm doing and I've got a couple days off. I did my last job fast and earned an unexpected chunk of cash. It'll definitely cover two days of docking fees and shopping.

Let's take a hotel suite. Have you ever wallowed in luxury?

Yes.

I haven't. Wallow with me?

No, but I think you should and I'd love to visit. Time to get you on your own a bit while you've still got me and Choice close. I'm going to get grandmotherly, Reef. Pay attention.

Always.

You want to be on your own, but it scares you silly. That's healthy. It shows real good sense. You have my total belief you can handle it. I also know you made ready for it because you knew you'd have to be, not because you wanted to leave home. Buy some clothes. You pick them. Call Choice in about six hours and tell me where to meet you an hour later. I'll show up any time you yell for me and I'll always think of you when I think of friends and lovers, but the journey is over, and I think you'll really have fun meeting other women. I will say, your first effort was a bit on the dramatic side, and some modification will be required.

Reef grinned at the mimicry of his speech usage and at the memory. She was still the only woman he'd met. He hadn't even learned the clerk's name. He suppressed his guilt pangs with a good dose of reality. He'd not broken into a file, nor forged data. He hadn't lied. He'd mixed truth and statement of opinion to misdirect, but injured no one. It had been as smooth as any text example of creating an identity. He'd needed legal documentation and he'd separated his actions from any clan responsibility. The identification would serve. In the only official file he had, he wasn't listed as Toll-Reed, but by his mother's name of Dawson.

The guilt eased. He'd chosen to do what he did for the benefit of all. He would always be a clansman, but not associated with any one clan. The clan was protected from him and he was aided in not being recognized as Studan, Starvan of Toll-Reed.

He'd known he couldn't continue working long by the time he was thirteen. Every action he took was quickly followed by too many. Markets moved heavily on his decision to buy or sell a few shares or futures. He had so many gems because he had almost caused a currency crash when he sold some foreign cash to buy something. The Cressetti knew what he was and had stalled negotiations until he was old enough.

My clansmen aren't displeased with me, Dance.

They aren't?

Well, the council might be. They aren't used to having a plan balked, but the rest won't be after they get over being furious. They might even be amused the Cressetti lost four years of nice profit, until I was old enough to be declared adult, and become our most eligible unmarried. It was always my brother's place. They'll be sorry they waited to get the right one for their people.

But they looked at you and saw credit signs. How's your conscience?

My father warned all women find men transparent while they remain ever mysterious to us.

Yeah, I figured it was bothering you. Does that plaque have your name on it?

Yes.

Was it issued to you by an official agency?

Yes.

Was it necessary?

No.

Was it needed?

Yes.

Are you convinced that it was important enough to bend your ethics?

Yes, or I wouldn't have done it.

You don't regret it, so feeling guilty is silly. Without the regret of having done something we're sure is wrong, guilt is unfounded. It just sort of hangs there in our psyche baseless.

Most have more capacity for it than need for it.

It's a civilizing emotion. You're civilized enough to decide when it's unnecessary.

Thanks, Dance.

Go shopping. I intend to. We'll probably run into people I know tonight. I'd be pleased if you saw someone you'd met and introduced me, but it's a big place.

He walked her to Choice, picked up the rest of the gems, then got a suite at a hotel. After that he shopped. He was careful. He had plenty of money, but wanted to travel light. He returned to the hotel suite he'd taken and packed everything he'd bought except his 'travel clothes.' He stood in front of the mirrored wall in the large bedroom of the suite and smiled. The trek pack wasn't small, but it was light. 'Weight,' not size, was the limiting factor in space travel. Moving mass required power. It required the same power to move that mass if it was a lead pellet or the equivalent mass in non-compressed air molecules. He'd be comfortable carrying the pack and it contained all he needed.

He unpacked his clothes and put them away. He'd moved his gems twice and was sure no one had noted the third. Someone would be waiting for him to pick up the gems already in his pack. Since he'd made the false bottom himself, he knew it was there. By touch and sight, the curved support material in the bottom of the semi-rigid trek pack seemed the same. Scans would detect no danger in it, so no one should know they were there. He thought he'd done well, considering he'd rushed his shopping a bit. He'd been in a hurry to get back to the hotel. He'd just left the gems he'd picked up from the Choice laying in a drawer in the suite.

Reef commed Dance. He was quite a bit early, but she was there. He told her where he was and she grinned. He told her where to meet him and she laughed and said she did have something appropriate to wear. Reef signed off, called room service, then stripped and walked down into one of the four personal spas on Stump Portal station. It really didn't occur to him room service would be quite so prompt, or that they'd bring his order in and set it up. Or that the service person would be a woman. He strolled out of the spa toweling his hair.

Whoops!

Excuse me, sir. I did announce.

I probably had my head under water.

Reef noted once he got the towel off his head and around his hips the girl relaxed considerably. He wondered how one tipped, then noticed the serving cart had a debit unit and her name, Anya, was posted just above it. He smiled and she returned it.

You're a clansman. I've met a couple.

I doubt you learned they were clansmen quite so abruptly.

It's the ring. I didn't really see much else.

You've seen a ring before?

Yeah, but only one.

It means our mothers gave our clans sons without obligation. In other words, outside of marriage. It's the way our numbers increase. I was my mother's only child. She was killed in an accident when I was about two. She and my father planned to have another child.

I didn't think of clansmen as having long-term relationships, other than marriage.

There are rather a number of us whose wives were a great deal older. We're often quite young when we return to the clan holdings. We work, meet wonderful women and fall in love. Like other men who have loved deeply, we know how wonderful that sharing is and rejoice if we find it again. My father has a lovely friend now. Even losing two loves, he knows the love is worth that pain, but he won't marry again. Only once do we give everything of ourselves.

You give your wife your money, don't you?

If giving one's self, money seems a small thing and not especially important, other than it shows we do know how to work.

All set. Just leave it when you're done. We'll clean up later.

Thank you.

Reef watched her leave, then got up and continued his wanderings. He picked up his plate and fork, walked over and leaned against the window which looked out on the networks of cargo chutes, which filled the center of the disk-shaped station. He realized the window wasn't opaqued when a woman walked by on the walk between his 'window' and the transparent inner wall of the station. She looked him over, grinned and winked as she passed. He was definitely not displeased, but found the polarizing switch.

He had over two hours until the time he was to meet Dance. He sighed, sat down at the computer and put in the study disk for captaincy. He took one of the sample tests and groaned. He'd barely passed. He knew where he was weak. He'd known it every time he hit a question on port procedure, but he went back to the beginning and began studying. Not quite two hours later, he took another of the sample tests. He did better than average and he'd only completed half the study course. He wasn't even close to being ready to buy a ship so his study would have time to sink in. How much time would depend on many things. The most important of which was hearing the Toll-Reed starvan had run off. At that point, people would begin to hunt.

Reef touched the diamond, which was his people's pledge to his children, and sighed. It was a gift that would always endanger him, but he really didn't think the girl, Anya, had noticed it. He foresaw a time coming when its presence would be more harmful to his children than benefit; a time when people would seek them because they were his. He trusted his people not to speak to others of his true 'value.' Even the Cressetti didn't know more than there was a new starvan not far from marriageable age, and a starvan was always something special.

There hadn't been a Starvan of Toll-Reed since his father, until he'd become one, and he'd been the first since his, and he since his. It wouldn't be so long before there was another. His eleven-year-old cousin would probably fulfill all the requirements before he hit sixteen. With the Cressetti issue finally resolved, he wouldn't be rushed into marriage as Reef had been. He sat down on the edge of the bed and let the homesickness wash through him. He was too young to be pushed into the world, but only he had known it. He curled up and cried. He really just wanted to go home and beg forgiveness and be safe in his father's arms.

He alone had stood and protested Reef's age before the council. He alone had argued no other had been declared adult at the minimum age. But the council vote had been unanimous, as required, and he'd become an adult and marriageable. He doubted the Cressetti knew how young the bridegroom was. He also doubted it would have made any difference to them their own laws said he was a minor too young to enter into any legal contract. The clan hadn't, and wouldn't, mention his true age. Only the clans knew the absolute minimum age and only his would know his declaration as adult had required the unanimous decision.

Reef got up, smiled wryly at himself in the vanity mirror, bathed his face and used the ointments again 'for good measure,' even though the evidence of his earlier encounter had become nearly unnoticeable. He'd been pushed into manhood before he was ready. He'd seen it coming and prepared, but he still wasn't ready. He took a deep breath, turned the ID plaque he'd laid on the counter over and read it. He set himself to be nineteen, and very young Captain Baine Sharif Dawson, and dressed.

By the time he was dressed, he'd put pain and self-pity away. Millions of children had to grow up too soon. He was much better prepared than most. Even Dance had no idea to what extent. His clan didn't know his voluntary tax contributions were exactly what the taxes would have been on the income he had stashed in seven different accounts, working under a large number of different trading codes, over the last four years. The total value of the gems and the cash account Dance had transferred was barely a tenth. He hadn't wanted the Cressetti to have it, but he'd have turned it all over to his wife if he hadn't escaped, and wrecked the interstellar economy when she put him to work in his own name. That was the real reason he'd had to escape. Nothing else would have made it the right choice.

He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. He was legally a man. He was big enough and he was still growing. He expected to add at least another twenty centimeters to his one eighty-four. He'd picked clothes that would 'grow' with him, at least for awhile.

He'd chosen the high moc-style soft boots as a compromise. They'd go anywhere. They weren't the best hiking boots, but they had good soles and would protect his legs against brush. They also looked terrific. His tight black pants disappeared into their soft black leather, the real thing, at the top of his calf. The soft, shiny-red shirt was tie on, rather than button. He hadn't seen any with fas strips he'd liked and the musculature that showed in its deep drape would also help convince people his 'baby face' was just that.

There was also the fact hunting needle, thread and lost button was not an occupation in which he intended to engage. Like all clansmen, he could sew. Unlike the majority, he thoroughly disliked it. The only other thing he, basically, did only when essential was cook. He was pretty good. He just disliked it. However, he'd made sure he could prepare several fine meals extremely well, just in case he ever wanted to prepare one for a lady.

Reef slipped on the short black jacket which made the outfit dressy and hung the first piece of jewelry he'd ever bought around his neck. It was bronze, not silver or gold and he'd rather liked that. He also liked the way the fairly large serpentine dragon hung on his chest. He'd gotten the artist's name, learned she was local and sent a request down to Stump for a belt clasp of the same design. He'd also asked for a sketch and permission to use it as a logo. He'd included an offer for its purchase for such use. The reply Yes! had come before he left the shop. He grinned at himself in the mirror. He had a logo and had chosen the name Bronze Dragon. All he needed was a ship to stick them on, and he hadn't even decided what type of ship it would be.

Dance looked up when Reef walked into the casino bar and smiled. She noticed every woman looking that direction was smiling. She watched him casually flash his gold ID plaque and walk past the man on the door. She had a feeling he'd have taken much more time if the woman, who'd been sitting there when she'd walked in, had still been on duty. The thought eased her worry for him a bit more. She didn't know how old he had been, just too young, but he was nineteen now and could handle it.

Hi.

Hello, Reef. You did good. I like. So does every other woman in the place.

Thank you. Dance, see this dragon?

Very nice artwork.

So nice, I've chosen it as the logo for the ship I'll someday buy. If you ever get something bearing this symbol, it's from me. Look closely. It will be this dragon and not one somewhat like it. I made sure the artist knew exactly which one of her pieces I meant when I asked for it.

And if I get one?

"It'll