"It certainly does," I said, frowning. Twenty years ago DiHammer had been at the epicenter of one of the biggest scandals ever to hit organized throw-boxing.

"He was wholly owned and operated by one of the partners in the Tr'darmishSpiraciashipping conglomerate, wasn't he?"

"You have a good memory," Ixil confirmed. "We have the highlights listed here.

Plus the interesting fact that Tr'darmish Spiracia was one of the firstcompanies to go bankrupt when the Talariac came onto the scene."

"Interesting," I murmured. "You sure it wasn't just a case of bad managementor overextension?"

"Not sure at all," Ixil said. "Spiracia's directors certainly had a reputationfor corporate edge-walking. Don't forget, too, that the Talariac didn't evenappear until a good six years after that fight and four years after theDiHammer scandal broke. If Everett was partially owned by the Patth, and if they tookhis defeat that personally, it would imply a long grudge on their part."

"As grudges go, six years wouldn't even be a regional record," I told him.

"Another question to put on our next wish list for Uncle Arthur. Who's next?"

"Chort," Ixil said, peering at the reader. "Full name... never mind, it'sunpronounceable. He's been in the spacewalking business only four years, whichputs him barely into journeyman status. That might explain why he wasavailable for Cameron to hire on Meima."

"Not to me it doesn't," I said. "Crooea are still the cream of thespacewalkingcrop; and just because Chort hasn't got twenty years' experience is no reasonwhy he should have been free in the middle of nowhere like that."

"Have you asked him about that?"

"Not yet," I said. "Come to think of it, I never got around to getting Tera'sstory, either. I'll have to remedy that soon. Anything else on him?"

"No indication of any direct ties between him and the Patth, if that's whatyoumean." Ixil frowned suddenly. "Hmm. Interesting. Did you know that the Craeaneconomy has been expanding at an annual rate of nearly sixteen percent overthe past twelve years?"

"No, I didn't," I said. Considering the Spiral average, that kind of sustainedgrowth was practically unheard-of. "Does it say what it was pre-Talariac?"

"Yes," he said after a brief search. "Between one and two percent. And thatwas in their better years."

I shook my head. "The stuff Uncle Arthur comes up with. Does he include anexplanation for this remarkable economic boom?"

"Apparently, the Crooea grow and export a considerable range of perishablefood delicacies that can't handle normal preservation methods," Ixil said. "Thegreater speed of the Talariac has vastly increased their potential market."

I grimaced. "Which puts them right at the top of the list of governments ripefor Patth pressure."

"Yes," Ixil said. "Fortunately, I doubt they know a Craea is aboard theIcarus."

"Unless they've gotten to Cameron and made him talk," I said. "He's presumablythe only one who knows the whole crew list."

Ixil frowned again. "I thought your current theory was that Cameron was in a shallow grave somewhere back on Meima."

"I have no current theories," I told him sourly. "All I have are useless, outdated ones that couldn't hold glue with both hands."

Ixil didn't say there, there, but from the expression on his face he mightjustas well have. "Next on the list is Geoff Shawn," he said instead. "For someoneonly twenty-three years old, he's compiled a remarkable record: a long stringof academic awards and honors, plus an almost equally long list of legaltroubles."

"Serious ones?"

"Not particularly. Traffic citations, semi-vandalistic pranks, some pettytheft of university electronics property—that sort of thing."

I grunted. "Typical hotshot student genius. Brilliant and knows it, andfiguresnone of the usual rules apply to him. Does it mention anything about his jauntout to Ephis?"

"Not a word," Ixil said. "Of course, he did say no one knew about that, didn'the?"

"That's what he implied," I agreed doubtfully. "But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if he and his buddies could really have pulled it offwithout at least being noticed."

Ixil pondered that a moment. "In which case," he said slowly, "it would raisethe question of whether his borandis dependence is really a medical matter atall."

"It would indeed," I agreed. "Of course, Everett did confirm that was thediagnosis. But then, Everett apparently also didn't recognize the symptoms ofeither the drug dependency or the Cole's disease until Shawn really startedgetting twitchy. Is there anything there about Everett's medical training?"

Ixil adjusted the document in the reader. "Looks like just the basicMercantile course and certification."

"How long ago?"

"Two years."

"Which leaves a twenty-year gap between his throw-boxing and medical careers,"

I said. "What was he doing to fill the idle workday hours?"

"A variety of different jobs," Ixil said, scanning down the text. "Let me see.

He did five years of throw-boxing instruction, two as a judge/referee, and sixas a casino security officer. Then there was one year each as bartender on aliner, mechanics' apprentice, and tour packager/guide on the throw-boxingcircuit. After that he went in for his medical certificate."

"By my count, that leaves us two years short."

"That's taken up by the instruction regimens for the various career changes,"

Ixil explained. "One to eight months each."

"I wonder what he wants to be when he grows up," I murmured. Though to befair, it didn't sound a whole lot worse than my own employment resume. "All right, back to Shawn. Anything in there that might suggest he'd dabbled with anyother drugs besides borandis?"

"Nothing," Ixil said. "Though nothing that would preclude it, either.

Somethingelse for our wish list?"

"Right," I agreed, making yet another mental note. "Okay. That just leaves Tera."

"Tera," Ixil echoed, peering at the reader. "We start with a negative: Preliminary checks of appropriate religious-group listings fail to find anyoneby that name with the description you gave. After that..."

He paused, his face going suddenly rigid. "Jordan," he said, his voicestudiously conversational, "would you say that Uncle Arthur has a tendencytoward the dramatic?"

"Is moss slimy?" I countered, feeling the hairs tingling on the back of myneck as I swung my legs over the side of my cot and sat up. "How dramatic is hebeingthis time?"

Wordlessly, he handed me the reader. I took it, glanced at the indistinctphotothat might or might not have been our Tera, and with a feeling of nameless butimpending doom plowed my way into the final section of the Kalixiri text.

It was as if I'd been slapped across the face with a wet rag. I read it twice, sure I must have gotten it wrong. But I hadn't. "Where's Tera now?" I asked, looking up at Ixil.

"Probably in her cabin," he said. "She's off-duty, and she hasn't shown muchtendency to sit around the dayroom."

"Let's go find her," I said, making sure my plasmic was riding snugly in itsholster.

I got up and headed for the door. Ixil was faster, hopping up from his placeon the floor and blocking my way. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked.

"Not really," I said. "But I want to find out for sure, and I want to find outnow. Confronting her straight-out seems to me the best way to do it."

"Yes, but she'll want to know how we found out," he warned. "That could beawkward."

"It won't," I said, shaking my head. "She already knows we run cargoes forAntoniewicz, and she knows he's got his slimy fingers into everything. We canlay this at his feet, no problem."

He still didn't look convinced, but he nevertheless stepped aside. I tappedthe release pad, confirmed there was no one loitering outside in the corridor, andheaded for the aft ladder. Ixil stayed behind long enough to collect hisferrets from the floor, then followed.