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She leaned down so she could hear me over the rising noise. “What you mean, Ishmael? Protocol?”

I let my eyes flicker to where Alvarez was standing with a group of spacers. “Officers? Are they eligible?”

She still seemed confused until Alvarez looked in our direction. A slow grin spread across her broad face.

“You do like a challenge, don’t ya?” Al said into the top of her beer.

“I just need to know if the worst that can happen is she turns me down.”

“Everybody here is off duty. Nobody is wearing tabs and no one is saying sar. Beyond that you’re on your own, but you’ve already got high marks in my book just for considering it. You sure you don’t wanna come back to my flop with me?” she teased. “I’ll take out the sharpest pieces.” She flicked the skull pierced through her left nipple.

“You’re tempting, Al, but I’m afraid I’m not man enough for you.”

She roared again, but the noise had built to the point where almost nobody outside of our immediate group could even hear it. She leaned down. “If you’re man enough for what you’re thinking, kid, you’re more man than three quarters of the men here.” She started to drink her beer and stopped to add, “And half the women!”

She really was a hoot. I was half tempted to take her up on the offer. I learned some time back that orgasms and laughter go well together. Especially when shared.

Still, I pondered the problem of cutting Alvarez out of the herd long enough to get her attention. Just then the band started and Alvarez’s hips moved in time to the beat. None of the men she was with seemed to notice.

I drained my drink and put the glass on the table. It was only my second and it had been ginger ale. I knew my limit on gin, and I did not want to be anywhere near it. Brill caught the movement and looked at me quizzically, and I winked back. Then I stood up and leaned over to give Al a kiss on the top of her shaved dome. “Wish me luck, Al,” I said and slipped from behind the table. As I crossed over to where Alvarez was standing, one of the tall, dark men who thought he was entertaining her saw me coming. Her hips definitely rocked to the beat and I wondered if she was even aware of it. She saw what-his-name looking and turned to see what had got his attention.

I kept focused on two thoughts. The first was that the worst she could say was no. The second was that I was wearing Henri Roubaille.

She saw me coming and her head turned before she swung her body around. I smiled and looked into her eyes. I could see the
oh-gods-what-does-he-want
flash across her face, but I did not let it deter me. I stopped about a meter from her, held out my hand, and said the word, “Dance?” I know she did not hear me over the noise. I did not even hear it, but I knew she could see it on my mouth. I nodded to the floor in invitation. Tall, dark and boring tried to get her attention back with a careful hand on her elbow. I could see it in my peripheral vision, but I did not take my eyes off hers. I kidded myself into thinking I had a choice and that I might actually have chosen not to look. I was careful not to make it a demand, but more of an offer. With the offer extended, I waited for her to make up her mind. The idiot with her tried to get her attention once more, but she drained her drink without looking away. Her eyes laughed over the rim, and she handed the empty glass to whoever-he-was before taking my outstretched hand. With a smile, she turned and led me to the dance floor, her fingers still cool and wet from the glass. She started dancing before we even made it to the floor, feet shuffling and hips shaking with intent. I did the best I could to follow. I was not a bad dancer—just not a very good one.

“It’s not how well you dance, Ishmael,” Mom had said. “It’s whether or not you mean it.”

With Alvarez, I meant it—every last bit of it. Eventually the band took a break and I finally got a chance to talk to her. She spoke first, “You’re Wang, from the
Lois?
”

“Guilty as charged. You’re Alvarez, from the
Duchamp?
”

She gave a mock salute with her index finger. “Yeah, that’s me.”

I held out a hand, to shake this time. “Pleased to meet you. You dance like a mad woman!” I told her with a grin.

She took my hand and shook it firmly but did not let go. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said while looking me in the eyes again. Gods, but she had beautiful eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Ginger ale would be good.” She still held my hand and her skin was scorching hot.

“Ginger ale? You came to a bar to drink ginger ale?” A smile danced in her eyes.

“No, I came to a bar to meet a fascinating woman. I drink ginger ale so I’ll remember her after.”

“Damn, you’re good,” she said with a delightful little laugh.

“Thanks, you’re a wonderful audience. I’ll be here till Thursday. Try the fish,” I teased her.

“Let’s see if we can find that drink.”

She did not let go of my hand as she led me off the floor and back toward the bar. As she led me past the table, Al raised her glass in toast and Brill turned, staring in disbelief. Diane saw her expression and I watched her track across to me. A huge smile erupted on her face just before the crowd closed around us and I lost sight of them all.

Alvarez led me to a table around the corner from the band and the worst of the noise. People back there were engaged in a variety of discussions ranging from a half dozen heatedly arguing the relative merits of various engine manifold temperatures on combustion efficiency to a quartet in black leather discussing the symbolism in Peneu Narvat’s new holo,
Lost in Transition
. Without the band blaring in your ears, you could actually hear yourself speak. We sat down across from each other at a small table with a bad wobble and a smear of spilled drinks on it and the waitress took our orders. She came back in a tick with the drinks and a damp rag to swab off the table. I let Alvarez pay for the drinks, and when the waitress left, I raised my glass in toast.

“Thanks,” I told her.

“You’re welcome,” she said and sipped hers. “Oh, this is good,” she said with surprise.

“You’ve never had it before?”

She gave a little embarrassed flick of her head. “Actually, no. At least not straight.”

“When I realized who you were, I wanted to say thank you.”

She sipped again. Neither of us dared put our drinks on the table because it kept wobbling so badly. “Thank me? For what?”

“You remember a greenie wiper in environmental? Carstairs?”

“About a year ago? We traded him for Murdock?”

“Yeah, I believe so.”

“I remember him. Nice kid. Got off on the wrong foot with the crew and was in a hurry to get somewhere else.”

“That’s him. You gave him some good advice, and I wanted to thank you for it.”

“What did I tell him?”

“Slow down and enjoy the ride. He took it to heart. He’s doing well over on the
Lois
. He’s still on the mess deck and doing great things for the ship. He credits you for his turn around.”

She raised her glass in a vague toast. “Well, ya never know where the seeds will sprout, do you? Thanks for telling me. Is that why you asked me to dance?”

“No, I asked you to dance because even from across the room I could tell you needed to get out there and shake those hips, and none of the guys you were with seemed to notice.”

“What made you think I’d go?”

“I didn’t. But I was pretty sure you weren’t going to ask me.”

She laughed at that. “Well, that’s probably true. Although, give me some credit. I did notice that you disposed of Murdock pretty quickly.”

“You’re a good person. You look out for your own.”

“And she is one of mine after all, eh? You didn’t like her?”

“I told you. I came to meet a fascinating woman. Murdock just wasn’t that interesting. There’s more to life than cleavage.”

“Most guys don’t share that particular view.” She scowled into her glass as she spoke.

“I’m not most guys.”

She looked up and considered me then with a speculative light in her eyes. “I can see that.”

We sat there quietly sipping and looking at each other for a while. “Are you always this quiet?” she asked.

“Are you?”

“No! Usually I chatter away a meter a minute.”

I shrugged. “I thought we were communicating pretty well, actually. Am I boring you?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Let me know when I am and I’ll go.”

“Just like that? I say, okay, you’re boring me. And you leave.”

I gave a little shrug. “Of course. What else?”

“What if I bore you? Will you tell me to leave?”

“I doubt that you could bore me. I don’t even know you yet.”

“Damn you are good. Classical training?”

“Mom was an ancient literature professor. I grew up on the classics.”

“You’re kidding!”

I shook my head. “Nope. Melville and Forester were her specialty areas, but I grew up with Shakespeare. What about you?”

“The only classics I ever got were at the academy, and there wasn’t much there.”

That last part sounded a bit bitter, so I did not push it. I steered the conversation a bit. “Where’d you get your philosophical outlook to enjoy the ride?”

She looked a little embarrassed. “Fortune cookie.”

It was so unexpected I laughed. “Okay, you got me with that one.”

“No, seriously. It was near the end of my last year at the academy and a bunch of us went out to dinner one night to an oriental restaurant down by the docks in Port Newmar. The whole evening we had this discussion about berths and ships. You know, where there were openings and who was going where—that kind of thing. We drank a lot of beer and no small amount of sake. I kept saying how much I wanted to be done with the academy and get onto a ship. Like getting onto a ship was going to be some kind of answer. Like by being there would mean I had have arrived, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I know very well.” I just wanted her to keep talking. I did not care what she said.

“We got the fortune cookies and mine said, ‘Life is the only journey with a final destination.’”

“That must have made quite an impression.”

“Well, I’m still using it five years later, but at the time, I think the beer and sake were contributing factors.” She swirled the cubes in her glass for a few heartbeats before arching an eyebrow in my direction. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Where did you get that jacket? It’s spectacular.”

“I got it here on the orbital the other day. Chez Henri’s up on eleven.”

She snorted in disbelief. “You were not at Chez Henri.”

“What do you wanna bet.”

“If you were at Chez Henri, I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget,” she said with a smoldering look that I think she practiced in the mirror because it was very, very effective.

“No bet.”

“Ha, I knew it!”

“No, you misunderstand. You’ve already given me that. You’ll need to do better.”

She stopped and laughed. “Damn, you are good.”

“What’ll it take to convince you? And what are the stakes?”

“My gods. You were!”

I held open the jacket so she could see the label on the inside lining.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she said, but I could tell she was not disputing my claim, just the evidence.

I finished my drink and put the empty glass on the table without speaking.

“You were!”

“Yeah. You know Brill? Brilliantine Smith?” I asked.

“Your boss? Of course.”

“She was there with me. She insisted on going.”

“No!”

“I took Beverly and Diane, too.”

“Beverly? Black leather, buzz cut Beverly?”

“Hey, that’s my shipmate you’re talking about.”

“And Diane Ardele? Works with you in environmental? Petite little mink?”

“Minx is more accurate, but yeah, that’s her.”

“You took three women to Chez Henri?”

“Well, Ms. Avril was busy and couldn’t go with us or there’d have been four.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I am not kidding. It wasn’t even my idea. When Brill heard I had an introduction to Henry Roubaille, she insisted. I thought we were going to have half the ship up there watching me change clothes.”

“You had an introduction?”

I gave a half shrug. “I think that’s about the only way you can see him. His receptionist is a real pro.”

“Where’d you get an invitation?”

“Bresheu on St. Cloud gave it to me.”

“You’re kidding!”

“You’ve got to stop saying that.” I stood and held out my hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She put her hand in mine, and I pulled her to her feet. I led her back to where Brill was still sitting, but she had moved to my old seat beside Al. Brill got a really funny grin on her face and Al gave me a big wink and raised her glass in my direction.

“You know these women, I think?” I said to Alvarez.

“Hi, Brill, Al,” she said.

“Hey, AA.” Al saluted with her glass.

“Hi. Alicia,” Brill said. “How’s it going?”

“Great! This one is something, huh?” She nodded in my direction.

Al spoke up before Brill could answer, “Hell, I’ve only known him for two stans and I know that!”

“You have no idea, Alicia.”

“Settle a bet for me, B?” she said.

“Sure, if I can.”

“Where’d he get this jacket?”

“Chez Henri up on eleven, why? He got the whole outfit there the other day. Bev and Diane and I went with him.”

“Jillian was too busy?”

“I think she’s slit her wrists by now, but yeah. She had the duty.”

“How did he get into Henri’s?”

“We were on St. Cloud and he got an introduction from Bresheu.”

“The Bresheu?” she asked.

Brill shrugged. “Is there more than one?”

“Why did Bresheu give him an introduction?”

Brill was grinning by this time. “Because the jacket he tried on there didn’t fit and we didn’t have time for it to be tailored before we shipped out.”

Alicia started laughing. “This is all true, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Did he tell you his rating?”

“Engineman, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but he’s also rated as Ordinary Spacer, Cargo Handler, and Food Handler. In a few weeks he’ll be spec two environmental as well.” She said it with a certain amount of pride.