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She spoke briefly with Control, nodded, then paused. With one side of her mouth and an eyebrow raised, she asked, Oh?” and resumed the normal protocol before pulling the headset down again and adjusting her screen. A starmap appeared. She tapped a key, and the picture zoomed. Jubal had seen it when he visited Beulah before, and it usually indicated the Ranzo’s position with a large red light, but now there was a green light as well and a yellow one.

“Looks like our courses may intersect again at Galport, in Galipolis. The Molly deviated from course for a few minutes but seems to have adjusted.”

“How can you tell?”

“Signals from other ships and nearby relay stations, mathematical projections from those signals when a ship is out of range. And the Molly reported her momentary deviation. But don’t worry. She corrected it almost at once.”

“What caused the deviation, do you think?” he asked.

She shrugged.

But he had the oddest feeling that it had something to do with Chester.

Mavis wagged a finger at Ponty. “You been evil again, sweetie. How many times I tell you to leave evil to Mavis? You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

“If you could have waited a little longer to see me, gorgeous, I’d have paid your loan back to you with big interest.”

She waved her hand impatiently. “Sure you would, Ponty. I not worried about that. You got plenty good collateral. But why’d you pass off a counterfeit cat for the real thing? Cost me plenty of money!” She snapped her fingers. “Bring it.”

Ponty didn’t have to think twice about the kitten deals he’d made. He would never have approached Mavis with any of the little furballs, who were, if not of “counterfeit” lineage, hot. Mavis would know about Chessie’s theft and pay him only a fence’s price, so he’d approached less knowledgeable clients. Less dangerous ones.

A rough-looking customer of a crewman arrived carrying the kitten on his shoulder next to his ear. Sure enough, it was one of Git’s gray and black tabby jobs. The one with the slash of white under its nose, like a mustache. Doc?

“I never saw that cat in my life,” he said automatically, opening negotiation, as it were. It was sort of true. The little twerp had grown bigger, the tail longer, the fur fuzzier. He’d been a totally different kitten when they left the barn together in search of a wealthy ship in need of a cat.

Doc ratted on him—or maybe it was catted on him—by leaping from the crewman’s shoulder to his, nuzzling into his hair and kneading his claws into Ponty’s sensitive skin. “Affectionate little critter, isn’t he?” Ponty asked with what he thought was a cool suavity, reaching up with a couple of fingers to tickle the kitten’s belly. It was purring louder than the ship’s engine, which—uh-oh—seemed to be propelling them away from the station. It was going to take a really good present to get back in Jubal’s good graces. Something mechanical, maybe, that the kid wouldn’t get attached to like he had Chester.

Mavis said, “Wipe the grin off your face, Ponty. I’d smack it off but I don’t want to scare the kitten. He’s a sweet little fellow, even if he is a phony.”

The kneading and purring stopped, the claws retracted, and weight lifted from Ponty’s shoulder as Doc launched himself onto Mavis’s scrawny bosom. She boosted the kitten to her own shoulder, took a swing, and knocked Ponty to the deck.

He thought he might be safer if he just stayed there, but then they’d probably kick him.

Rubbing his jaw, Ponty sat up and said, “Looks like a real cat to me.”

Then Mavis did kick him. “Don’t be a wise guy. You know it’s the ID chip I’m talking about. His credentials. The DNA code on it matches the high-class queen’s and tom’s but not the kitten’s. The only part of Thomas’s Duchess in this little fellow is on that chip in his ear. The rest of him is as bastardized as you.”

“Now that’s just plain mean, Mavis,” Ponty said. “I can see right now that little kitty is getting real attached to you. If he could understand