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critically.
The time would come when he would have to report, accurately, where every
speck of dust had lain.
The apartment was cramped. That was typical of dome city living quarters. It
was sparsely populated by ragged second-hand furniture. That was to be
expected of poor folks. And Marya, clearly, was not an obsessive housekeeper.
Cobwebs hung in the ceiling corners. Junk cluttered the chairs and floors.
Her sloppiness had nothing to do with poverty or lack of time, only with
habit. Sangaree at home had animal servants who picked up after them.
Marya shared her roof with whole tribes of roaches. Dirt streaked the plastic
walls. The curtains were frayed and soiled.
It was exactly the sort of place where a busy, impoverished woman would come
to rest. She was crafty, this one. She had converted her ethnic liabilities
into assets.
But would a poor woman serve real coffee? When coffee had to come all the way
from Old or New Earth?
He did not call her on it. He might give something away by revealing that he
recognized the real thing when he tasted it. Most Old Earthers would not,
because every ounce went into export.
They were fencing now, subtly, with rapiers consisting of little tests.
One of the rules of his profession was never to yield anything concrete.
She was not giving him anything either. Certainly not enough to understand
her.
Who could comprehend the Sangaree mind? The Admiral had been trying for
decades. He barely got by.
Like Mouse, though, Beckhart did not want to understand. Not really. He
wanted to destroy. Comprehension was just a weapon in his arsenal.
They sat in silence for several minutes. He watched Marya over his cup. She
considered him. He wondered what strange thoughts might be running through her
alien brain.
 I d better check on Michael, Gun.
He followed her as far as the bedroom door.
The room was tiny. It contained two dilapidated beds. One for Marya, one for
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her children.
Marya settled on the edge of the one containing a pale five-year-old. The boy
watched Niven warily.
 Michael, this is my friend Dr. Niven. He s going to stay with us for a
while.
 Hi, Mike.
 Not Mike. The child s voice was weak but angry.  Michael. After my
great-grandfather.
Marya winced.
Michael radiated pride.
Niven controlled his surprise.  Right. Michael it is.
He had been wrong. Almost fatally wrong. These Sangaree would know the
Shadowline well.
There had been but one Sangaree with the human name Michael. Michael Dee. The
man who had engineered the war. The man who had been both the pride and
despair of his race.
The man who had paid the ultimate price for failing.
 Brandy says you like pirate stories. I knew a pirate once. Only he wasn t a
pirate when I met him. That s what he is now. I grew up and went to school,
and he grew up and became a pirate.
 I don t think he s ready for that right now, Gun. Marya seemed honestly
worried.  I m going to have to call a doctor, I think.
Niven was surprised at himself. He was concerned too.  You want me to call a
cabcar? What was he doing? The kid was Sangaree. His purpose in life was to
help guide that species to a final solution. Little ones became big ones.
 Oh, no. There s one from the hospital who lives right upstairs. I don t know
her very well, but . . . 
 Go get her, woman. I ll manage here.
She stared. Something within her softened momentarily. The hidden woman, the
one behind the one behind the one she was trying to portray, showed through.
She kissed his cheek.  Thanks, Gun. When he pulled her closer,  Later. I ll
be back as soon as I can.
He had not been after a kiss. He had attached a tiny chameleon transmitter to
the back of her collar.
She closed the apartment door behind her. Niven inserted a receiver into his
ear while pretending to scratch.
Smiling wryly, he patted himself where she had touched him. Had she done the
same to him?
There was no reason why she should have to go out for a doctor. She would
have sufficient medical background herself if there was any truth to her
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cover.
He smiled again. Marya was no tactician, either.
 Are you my mom s new lover?
He was surprised. Little girls did not ask questions like that.
 No. Not yet.
 She needs one. Do you think she s pretty?
 I think she s gorgeous. He was uncomfortable. He did not know how to
socialize with children. The only child he knew was Jupp s boy, Horst-Johann.
 Maybe she should get married again. Are you married?
Marya had reached a public comm. She was briefing someone. Following her part
of a conversation and trying to guess the other half while carrying on another
with Brandy proved impossible. He did hear Marya ask for a deep trace on his
cover. That meant he had won a round. She had doubts. Or wanted to have them,
which came to the same thing.
 No. I never met the right lady. This was one bold child. Did she know she
was not human? Probably. From the little he had heard, Sangaree had no
childhood in the human sense. Their children were shielded from nothing. They
were treated as, and expected to behave as, miniature adults.
 Don t know if I d like you, though.
Honest, too, he thought. He went to check on Michael. The boy still watched
him with wide, wary eyes.
He was bad sick. Marya would not risk a human doctor otherwise. There were
few greater risks the underground Sangaree could take. Physicians could
sometimes spot the subtle differences between species.
Marya returned with the doctor before Niven s conversation with Brandy became
impossible.
The doctor, he decided, was  tame. She worked with a confidence and
quickness that betrayed her.
Niven whispered to Marya,  Brandy s been matchmaking.
She laughed.  Husband-shopping for me again? She never gives up.
 I don t think I passed the exam.
 Doesn t matter. I won t get caught in that trap again.
 Why d you bring them out here? On Old Earth parents usually put their
children into public care as soon as they were born. Niven had had an unusual
childhood in that he had spent much of it with his mother. He still kept in
touch with her, but had lost track of his father years ago.
The shedding of children was a common practice on the tamed outworlds, too.
Fewer than a quarter of Confederation s children were raised by their
biological parents.
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