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  “I might take my chances on that,” said Potemkin ominously. “It's better than going back to being a common crewman.”

  “You don't have to kill me or be a crewman,” said Penelope.

  “Oh?”

  “All you have to do is let me and my friends off on a planet.”

  “Friends?”

  “Mouse and Maryanne,” she replied, indicating the doll.

  Potemkin shook his head. “I don't think I'm inclined to do that,” he said. “You're worth a couple of million credits, maybe more. For all I know, the Clipper had already contacted some of the people who are looking for you.”

  “Is money that important to you?” asked Penelope.

  “It's one of my favorite things.”

  She stared into his eyes. “In one of the futures I can see, you put us down on a planet along with the Yankee Clipper, and you become the captain of the ship and take over all his money.”

  “Do you see if I live out the day after I do that?” he asked sardonically.

  She shook her head. “I can't see your future once I leave you.” She paused. “But I can see lots of futures in which I become the War Chief, and lots more in which the Yankee Clipper kills you because you hurt me.”

  “Do you see any in which we just stay the way we are, and finally sell you to the highest bidder?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I'm not looking for them.”

  “Well, you'd better start looking,” said Potemkin. “Because that's the way it's going to be.”

  “I don't think so,” said Penelope seriously. “Very soon now the Yankee Clipper will decide I would be a better War Chief than you.” She paused. “Long before you have a chance to sell me.” She looked at the doll again. “I really have to go and feed her,” she said apologetically, and began walking toward the doorway through which she had entered.

  Potemkin watched her walk away. Then, just before she stepped into the corridor, he called out:

  “Not that I believe any of this for an instant—but if I did, which planet do you think I'd let you off on?”

  She re-entered the room and walked to the viewscreen at which she had originally been staring. She peered intently at it for a moment, then pointed to a yellow star.

  “There are eleven planets circling this star,” she said. “We want the fourth one.”

  “Have you been there before?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Then why did you pick it out from all the rest?”

  She smiled at him. “It looks very pretty.”

  “It looks like every other Class G star in the Cluster.” He stared at her. “Are you sure you don't have any friends there?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “But you'll find some?” he continued.

  “One, maybe.”

  “Just one?” he said disbelievingly.

  “Sometimes one is enough,” said Penelope. She cuddled the doll again. “I really have to go now, or Maryanne is going to be mad at me.”

  She left the room as Potemkin stared silently after her, and a few minutes later she was back in her own spacious quarters. The Mouse, who had been napping on her bed, sat up abruptly at the sound of the door sliding into the wall.

  “I'm sorry,” said Penelope. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

  “It's just as well,” replied the Mouse, throwing back her tufted satin comforter. “If you hadn't, I'd never have been able to get to sleep tonight.”

  “It's always night in space,” Penelope pointed out.

  “This is a military ship. It runs on Galactic Standard time.” The Mouse rubbed her eyes. “How are you and Maryanne getting along?”

  “She needs some new clothes,” said Penelope. “She can't go around just wearing part of a blanket.”

  “Then we'll make some for her.”

  “Could we?” asked the little girl eagerly.

  “I don't know why not,” said the Mouse, looking around the room. “You know, if we could find some of the fabric they used for our furniture, she'd be better dressed than anyone else on the ship.”

  “That would be nice,” agreed Penelope.

  “How did Maryanne enjoy her tour of the ship?”

  “I don't think she likes it here very much,” said Penelope.

  “I'm sorry to hear that, because I've got a feeling she's stuck here for a while.”

  “Maybe not,” said the little girl.

  The Mouse stared at her. “Oh?”

  “There's a very pretty planet not far away,” continued Penelope. “I think that Maryanne would be much happier there.”

  “Who do you think is going to let Maryanne off on this very pretty planet?” asked the Mouse cautiously.

  “Oh, I don't know,” answered the little girl. “Someone.”

  “Someone like the Yankee Clipper?” persisted the Mouse.

  Penelope shook her head. “No. I don't think so.”

  “I know he seems pleasant, Penelope, but he's a very dangerous man.”

  “He won't hurt you,” said Penelope. “You're my only friend.” She suddenly remembered Maryanne. “Well, my best friend, anyway. I'd never let anyone hurt you.”

  The Mouse smiled ruefully. “That's what I'm supposed to say to you.”

  “I'm sorry,” said Penelope, flustered. “I didn't mean to be bossy. Not with you.”

  The Mouse got up, walked across the wide expanse of floor separating them, and hugged her warmly. “You're not being bossy, Penelope. You're being caring, and that's a good thing to be. I just don't want you endangering yourself. You have a marvelous gift, but you're still a little girl, and you don't know what some of these people can be like when you make them mad.”

  “Yes I do,” said Penelope. “I can see what they're like.” She placed a finger to her temple. “In here.”

  “Then you know better than to cross them.”

  “But we have to get to the planet.”

  “What's so important about this planet?”

  Penelope shrugged. “I don't know yet.”

  “But you're sure we should go there?” persisted the Mouse.

  The girl nodded her head. “Yes.”

  “When do you think you'll know why?”

  “Soon,” said Penelope with total conviction. “Very soon.”

  Then she remembered Maryanne, and as the Mouse watched her with a puzzled expression on her face, she spent the next few minutes cleaning the doll and readjusting its tiny robe, to all outward appearances a little blonde girl without a care in the world, rather than a valuable prisoner aboard the most powerful pirate ship in the Quinellus Cluster.

  20.

  Penelope was sound asleep when a hand reached out and shook her gently by the shoulder. She moaned and turned away, but the hand continued shaking her.

  “Go away!” she muttered.

  “Wake up, kid,” whispered a masculine voice.

  “Leave me alone!”

  “We've got to talk.”

  The Mouse awoke, sat up, looked across the relatively spacious cabin, and saw the slender man sitting on the edge of Penelope's bed.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “This doesn't concern you,” answered Potemkin.

  “Anything to do with her concerns me.”

  “I'm not going to hurt her, lady,” said Potemkin. “But I've got to talk to her.”

  “Go away,” said Penelope again.

  “Kid, you can wake up peacefully, or I can turn the lights on and throw a bucket of cold water over you,” said Potemkin. “It's up to you.”

  Penelope slowly sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes.

  “Oh,” she said, upon recognizing Potemkin. “It's you.”

  “Penelope, if you don't want to talk to him, I can call for help,” said the Mouse.

  “He is help,” said Penelope, leaving the Mouse totally confused.

  “Maybe I am, maybe I'm not,” said Potemkin. “First I've got a couple of questions
to ask.”

  “You expected him?” asked the Mouse.

  “Not this soon, but yes,” said Penelope.

  “Does this have something to do with that walk around the ship you took this afternoon?” persisted the Mouse.

  “Ask your questions later, lady,” said Potemkin. “I'm in a hurry.”

  “It's all right, Mouse,” said Penelope reassuringly. “Really it is. He won't hurt us.”

  “Don't be too sure of that,” said Potemkin.

  “If you were going to hurt us, I'd know,” said Penelope with no trace of fear or apprehension. “You're here to talk.”

  “I could change my mind.”

  “You're a smart man, and that would be a stupid thing to do,” said the little girl, staring at him unblinking.

  He met her gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes briefly.

  “All right,” he said. “I need some answers, and I need them fast.”

  “I'll answer anything I can,” said Penelope.

  “Don't answer anything yet,” said the Mouse. She turned to Potemkin. “I've already found three spy devices, and I've probably missed some.”

  “No problem,” said Potemkin. “My own man will monitoring us during this watch.” He turned to Penelope. “I'm not ready to take on the Clipper yet. He's got too many people loyal to him. I don't think I can pull it off.”

  “Are you sure?” said the girl.

  “Damn it—we're talking about mutiny against the most successful pirate in the Cluster! It's not worth the risk, unless you can guarantee that I'll succeed.”

  “I told you—I can't see what will happen after I'm not with you any longer.”

  “I know ... but I came up with another way to get you to your planet.”

  “Whose planet?” interjected the Mouse.

  “Shut up, lady—I'm talking to the girl!” Potemkin turned back to Penelope. “What if I arrange for the auction to take place on the planet?” He paused. “The Clipper would have to take you there to deliver you.”

  “He wouldn't take us alone,” said Penelope. “He'd have lots of guards.”

  Potemkin laughed mirthlessly. “Are you trying to convince me at this late date that you can't get away from a bunch of guards if you want to? Hell, you've gotten away from bounty hunters all across the Democracy and the Inner Frontier.”

  “I just said that he'd have a lot of guards with him.”

  “What will happen to him on the planet?”

  Penelope shrugged. “I don't know.”

  “I don't believe that for a second,” said Potemkin. “Will he live or die?”

  “In some futures he lives, in some he dies. In some I can't tell.”

  “In how many of these futures does he figure out that he's on the planet because I don't want you on the ship?”

  “Very few,” said Penelope.

  “And in those very few, what kind of action does he take against me?”

  “Once he leaves me, I can't see what he'll do.”

  “If he dies, how will you kill him?” demanded Potemkin. “Is there any way it can be connected to me?”

  “I won't kill him at all,” said Penelope. “I'm just a little girl.”

  He jerked a thumb in the Mouse's direction. “Does she do it?”

  “No.”

  “You're sure?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “So if he dies on the planet, it can't be blamed on me?” continued Potemkin.

  “If he dies on the planet, it can't be blamed on you,” agreed Penelope.

  “And if he doesn't die and you get away, it still won't be blamed on me?”

  “I don't know. But if he doesn't know that you chose the planet, if he thinks the others did...”

  “Okay,” said Potemkin. “That's what I needed to know.”

  “Will you arrange to set us down there?” asked Penelope.

  “I'll have to think about it.”

  “You really don't want us to stay on the ship.”

  “I know.”

  “And you don't want to hurt us.”

  “I said I'd think about it,” said Potemkin irritably. He got to his feet and walked to the door. “You'll know when I've made up my mind.”

  Then he was out in the corridor and the door slid shut behind him, and the Mouse was staring at Penelope, a puzzled expression on her face.

  “Do you want to tell me about that?” she asked at last.

  “We have to get to the planet I told you about,” answered Penelope. “Potemkin will see to it that we do.”

  “Potemkin? Is that his name?”

  Penelope nodded. “Mischa Potemkin. Isn't that a funny name?”

  “You're sure he'll set us down on this planet that you're so anxious to reach?”

  “Pretty sure,” said Penelope with a shrug, as she picked up Maryanne and began straightening her tiny red blanket.

  The Mouse frowned again. “You're the Yankee Clipper's prisoner, and Potemkin works for the Clipper. They stand to make millions of credits by selling you to any of the people who are trying to find you. Why should he suddenly be willing to put you off on a planet and never see you again?”

  “I explained to him why it would be a smart thing to do,” said Penelope, smoothing Maryanne's hair. “When can we get Maryanne some new outfits?”

  “I don't know,” said the Mouse distractedly. “We can look around the ship tomorrow and see if there's any material we can use.”

  “Will it hurt her if I wash her in the Dryshower?”

  “No, I don't suppose so. Can we go back to talking about Potemkin for a minute?”

  Penelope sighed. “If you want.” She held Maryanne up and stared at her. “But I want to wash her soon. She needs a bath every day, or she might get sick.”

  “Try to pay attention, Penelope,” said the Mouse, keeping her voice calm and soothing with some effort. “A very dangerous man is willing to cost his even more dangerous boss millions of credits and set us down on a strange planet.” She paused briefly. “Can you tell me why he would do such a thing?”

  “If I told you, you'd laugh,” said Penelope.

  “Not even if I thought it was funny,” the Mouse assured her.

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “He's afraid of me,” said Penelope. She giggled. “Isn't that funny—a pirate being afraid of a little girl?”

  “Why is he afraid of you?” asked the Mouse sharply. “What did you two talk about this afternoon?”

  “Oh, lots of things.” Penelope seemed to lose interest. “I really have to wash Maryanne now, Mouse.” She walked to the bathroom compartment and paused at the door. “Do you want to come into the Dryshower with us?”

  The Mouse shook her head. “No, you go ahead.”

  “You'll still be here when I get out?”

  “Where would I go?” asked the Mouse ironically.

  “I don't know,” said the little girl. “But sometimes I think you're upset with me, and I'm afraid you'll leave me and I'll be alone again.”

  “I'll never leave you, Penelope,” said the Mouse sincerely. “If you can see the future, you know that.”

  “I can hardly ever see the good things,” explained Penelope. “Just the bad ones.”

  “Well, if leaving you is a bad thing, you should be able to see it if I was going to do it.”

  Penelope's face brightened suddenly. “That's right!” she exclaimed happily. She ran over to the Mouse and threw her arms around her. “I love you, Mouse!”

  “I love you, Penelope,” said the Mouse, returning her hug. “Now go take your Dryshower, and then maybe we'll talk some more.”

  Penelope emerged from the Dryshower a few minutes later, dressed in a fresh outfit.

  “Where's Maryanne?” asked the Mouse.

  “I left her there.”

  “There? Where?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you're going to talk about Potemkin and the Yan
kee Clipper, I don't want her to hear what you say. It might frighten her.”

  “It doesn't frighten you, though, does it?” asked the Mouse.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they're not going to hurt us.”

  The Mouse frowned, trying to find the best way to keep Penelope's interest from flagging. “Well, it frightens me,” she said at last. “Maybe you can explain to me why I shouldn't be frightened.”

  “The Yankee Clipper won't hurt us because we're worth so much money,” said the girl.

  “He can hurt us without killing us.”

  “He won't, though,” said Penelope. Then she added thoughtfully, “At least, not while we're on the ship. I can't see much farther ahead.”

  “What about Potemkin?”

  “He'd like to hurt us, but he's afraid to.”

  “Why?”

  “Why does he want to hurt us, or why is he afraid to?” asked Penelope.

  “Both.”

  “He wants to hurt us, because I explained to him that I would be a better War Chief than he is.”

  “I see,” said the Mouse. She paused for a moment. “Did he believe you?”

  “Why shouldn't he?” replied Penelope. “It's the truth.”

  “Then why is he afraid to hurt you?”

  “Because the Yankee Clipper knows that I can see the future. He hasn't figured out yet that I'd be a good War Chief, but if Potemkin hurts me, he'll try to think of why, and then pretty soon he'll know.”

  “That must have been some conversation you had with Potemkin this afternoon,” said the Mouse.

  “He was very upset,” said Penelope, smiling at the memory. Suddenly she giggled again. “You should have seen his face! It got all red.”

  “I'll just bet it did,” said the Mouse with a smile. “So you convinced him the best way to get rid of you was to put you on a planet?”

  “To put us on one,” Penelope corrected her. “I wouldn't ever leave you behind, Mouse.”

  “I appreciate that,” said the Mouse. “Did you suggest that he take over the ship and put the Yankee Clipper down with us as well?”

  Penelope shook her head. “That was his idea, but it wasn't a very good one. It makes more sense to let the Yankee Clipper take us there to deliver us to whoever wants to buy me.”