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It had taken almost three weeks for one of Crims's ships to show itself here. For a small port like this, that was an eternity of downtime; Nephthys had filled her schedule as best she could, but out of the way places like this often offered little in terms of real entertainment. Mostly, in the end, she'd spent her time working.

She had plenty of notes on Crims by now, plenty of signs that had led her to this particular place, this small port, as one of the stops where his ships sometimes made berth. It didn't take her long to compile them into a sequence, fill out a general idea of his travel habits near here . . . but what took her more time was chatting with the locals, with the sailors who likewise frequented this place. She wanted to know -- without calling any attention to it -- how this particular ship's captain looked through their eyes. Was he flashy, like some pirates were said to be, or more circumspect, like his origins as a knight of Saturn might have suggested? Was he generous, or stingy? Kind, or cold? Was he likely to take on a traveler for the right purse?

Now she was sitting in a tavern, cheerfully playing whist with some of the regulars there, and waiting -- and finally, finally, things shifted. The shutters on the building shook with the force of a nearby ship's landing . . . and like they always did, everyone stood up from their chairs and went outside to see what manner of ship was arriving this time.

She knew his ship right away, from the descriptions. Him, less so -- his appearance seemed to generally match what description she had of him, but it was better to be sure, rather than to assume. Nephthys waited until that evening, until someone had confirmed it offhand, earlier -- then arranged to have dinner at the same time and in the same tavern as Crims.

She sat two tables away.

Eventually, she called over, "Excuse me," and waited to catch the pirate's eye. "I'm so sorry to interrupt your meal. You're the captain of the ship outside, is that correct?"

There were several of them, Crims and his compatriots -- and there was only one of her.

That was how she preferred things to be. It was easier to ingratiate herself with people from a position of apparent weakness than one of strength: people were more inclined to be friendly and generous when they felt confident and safe. She was small and soft and unarmed -- harmless compared to the group of them. It was an approach that had served her well hundreds of times over.

Accordingly, Nephthys wasn't intimidated by the prospect of approaching their table. She slid gracefully up from her seat, produced a coin purse and placed two gold ducats on the table next to her finished trencher of food.

With a coy look, she slid into the seat that Crims had offered her. It was a large table, and -- with a carefully casual gesture, as though she just happened to have done it because she was settling herself into a comfortable seat, she rested her coin purse on the table.

It was fat. Hefty. It tinkled with the glorious chime of money.

She smiled sweetly and put out her hand. "Hvergelmir Knight of the Cosmos," she said. "But please, call me Nephthys. I'd like to offer you business, if it agrees with your travel plans."

She watched the two men go, unconcerned. It changed the dynamic somewhat, but not beyond what the Cosmos knight could manage. If she hadn't had a reputation for just this sort of work, she wouldn't have been given this mission.

Nephthys leaned back in her seat and folded her hands in her lap, legs delicately crossed. It was a relaxed posture -- intimate without being aggressive. It offered a counterpoint to Crims's lean inward, but not a rejection. More like a dance, with partnered steps. Negotiating was always something like that. "I don't mind at all," she answered, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I prefer many things one on one."

She reached up to tuck a stray hair away from her face. He was careful. He watched her -- was interested to hear what she had to say -- but cautiously.

"Well met, Crims," she said softly. "I'm seeking passage on a ship that'll take me through the Bleeding Vein and into Two Heart Bay. Honest trading vessels won't take the voyage. I can pay you good money, if you're willing."

The Bleeding Vein was a challenge enough, on its own -- the asteroid field was fraught with highly magnetic chunks of rock, apt to pull ships off course and shear metal off their hides -- but it was also notoriously a camping site for opportunistic pirates, ready to take advantage of wounded or unsuspecting vessels. This was true the nearer one got to Two Heart Bay itself -- which, these days, was a lawless port more or less entirely overrun by criminals of many stripes.

Nephthys smirked. "I'm visiting my sick aunt," she said -- which was not an indication that she was telling a bad lie, but rather that she preferred to keep her business in a seedy place like Two Heart Bay to herself. Surely a pirate would understand.

Then again, as Crims was making quite clear, he was an unusually honorable pirate.

Not entirely surprising, for a man who was also a knight. Old habits -- compassion, decency, concern for others -- died hard. Good. That was what she was hoping to see in him: a knight who hadn't entirely lost his way, just strayed from the path a while. She hoped their voyage would bear that out further.

She slid the entire purse of coins across the table to Crims. "I won't need an escort once we reach Two Heart Bay -- I can take care of myself better than you'd think. I just need safe passage through the Vein. Do we have a deal?"

Nephthys slid her hand delicately into Crims's outstretched one, letting her fingertips glide along his palm. "A deal," she promised. "I won't interfere with your business."

She'd have loved an excuse to follow him around as he settled up, see what he got up to as he prepared to debark, but there wasn't one that was plausible -- and it was generally better not to push things too hard or too fast when one was piecing together information. Anyway, she'd gotten another scrap of useful information to keep with the rest:

'Most of the people we provide passage to require protection.'

A smuggler, perhaps. That was interesting.
"I'll need to get my bags together and pay the balance on my room. Should I meet you at the docks in an hour?"