Things were finally looking up. Dex was up seven hundred and fifty credits and, after Leo had stepped in, Crane had faded grudgingly into the background. Smiling smugly in spite of himself, Dex slid the neat stacks of chips into the gutter that hung off the table. The plastic disks rolled down toward the center of the table with a clicking sound, then a white paystub flicked out from the top of the depositor. As he took the plastic card, Dex couldn't help but be impressed by the complexity and frivolity of the technology. It made him feel honroed to be taking the money of such excellent people. "You'll excuse me, gentlemen, I think I'm gonna cash in while I'm ahead." When the mechanic rose from his chair, he had to stop rather abruptly in the middle of his first step to avoid running into the massive man in the black suit who hovered not a foot from the table. "Carl Dexter?" Something in the man's tone made Dex feel it might be better for him if he weren't. "Uh, I'm sorry, I…I think you…" Dex wasn't a very good liar, and when his gaze caught the two other large men standing on either side of Mariah and Leo it occured to him that he might as well save the effort. He sighed. It had been going so well… For all intents and purposes, Rachel and Hobenson were the only ones still in the game. The other men had a little money left, but it was now clear who the dominant players were. Rachel had made a small fortune, but it was hardly the twenty-thousand Chafee owed. If she could win everything Hobenson had in front of him, it might—might—be enough to buy the girl back. Rachel had just forfeited a small pot to Hobenson and was preparing to deal when one of the man's attendants leaned down to his ear. Hobenson nodded, looked up at her, and smiled. As he whispered something to the attendant, Daphne leaned toward Rachel under the pretense of rubbing her shoudlers. "Problem?" Rachel didn't say anything, but shifted uncomfortably and nodded slightly in the Companion's general direction. Hobenson smiled and cleared his throat. "Well, gentlemen, it's been a genuine pleasure having you here. I hope to see you all again in May." The other players exchanged curious glances, then shrugged and, one by one, lifted themselves from their chairs with respectful nods to Hobenson and searing glares at Rachel. When they had left the room, Hobenson nodded to the attendant, who muttered into an earpiece, and the door opened again. A curse caught in Rachel's throat. The room was barely big enough for the rest of the crew, the girl, and the three new bodyguards to stand all at once. Hobenson looked up at Rachel expectantly—she looked first at Saul, who nodded, then at the tattoo on Amelia's cheek. "Well?" Rachel finally met Hobenson's eyes. "You called us here to reveal the identity of the murderer?" Hobenson smiled thinly. "Why don't we put our cards on the table, Captain? Figuratively speaking." Rachel paled. "It is Captain, isn't it? I ran a search as soon as those two were found snooping around my private wing." Hobenson took a deliberate sip from the glass of water at his side. He wanted her to sweat. "What exactly is it you want, Captain Wu? No, I know that, you want the girl. But I would like to know why." "Just a job." Hobenson chuckled. "The father. Of course. Man can't settle his own account, so he drags you into it. But that's not your fault. So I'm willing to let you and your crew leave right now without any fuss." Rachel's eyes drifted back to Amelia's tattoo; even at a distance, she could easily make out the characters. Hobenson followed her gaze. "Oh, yes. Well, she's none of your concern. Nor is the way I run my business." Rachel's eyes shot up. "She's business?" "Of course." Hobenson spread his hands. "Whatever you might think of me, Miss Wu, I'm a professional. I don't sample the merchandise." "You're a real humanitarian." "You can leave my station, with all the money you've won, right now. All you have to do is mind your own business." Rachel's eyes flitted from Amelia's terrified face to Hobenson's smirk. "I'm a professional, Mr. Hobenson. And taking this girl back to her father is my business." "I took her for twenty thousand, four hundred eighty one square, Miss Wu. If you'd like to make me an offer, go right ahead." Sir Anderson, eyes locked on the writing on Amelia's cheek, leaned toward Rachel. "I can make up the difference." She turned toward him in shock. "That's twelve thousand square," she whispered, "I can't ask you to do that. Besides, what if the Tong traced the transfer?" "We can't leave that child here." Rachel cast one last, longing glance back at Amelia. "I know." She turned back toward Hobenson. "I'll play you for her." Hobenson sighed. "Goodness, I certainly didn't see that coming…" "I'm a sucker for the classics. It's the only way you're going to get rid of me." "All right, Captain, have it your way. I'll put my newest acquisition on the next hand. But in return…you bet your ship." Rachel's eyes jerked up and Hobenson grinned. "If we're going to be cliché, we might as well go all the way." Rachel cast a glance at the girl's shaking face. She was close to tears. Though blonde, she looked more than a little like Jasmine. Rachel winced at the memory. She'd be damned if she'd give up this time. "Wo chang." Hobenson smiled and waved his hand dismissively. Rachel shuffled the cards, warm to the touch after having been handled all night. "Two wilds, one after each draw." Rachel flipped over the round card from the center of the table. "Peaches are tall." Hobenson nodded solemnly and Rachel picked up her hand. Five of bananas. Five of apples. Tortoise of apricots. Eight of apricots. One of plums. Rachel cleared her throat and looked expectantly at Hobenson. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll take the tall." Rachel nodded, then slipped two cards out of her hand, the one and the tortoise. She picked up two from the deck and glanced at them. Five of apricots. Seven of apples. Three of a kind was a good start, but Hobenson had taken the tall, so he could very well have better. She gestured to him to flip over the first wild card—five of oranges. That was better, at least. Hobenson looked at his hand for what seemed like an eternity, then smiled confidently and slid one card toward her. She flicked the top card from the deck toward him, then discarded the seven and took one for herself. "Are you all right, Captain?" "Fine, why do you ask?" Hobenson smiled. "You're sweating. I don't make you nervous, do I?" "Just play the game." Rachel picked up the card and flipped it nonchalantly into her hand: seven of plums. Her hands were shaking a little, and she had to concentrate on keeping her breathing just right. It was a good hand, but she couldn't read Hobenson so well as to know if it was good enough. That was the thing about psychopaths—they did tend to have a natural poker face. Silently, she nodded her continued consent to the stakes. She could back out at any time and get out with her ship, but there was no way she was going to leave Amelia here. Not now that she'd seen what Hobenson was capable of. The thin wiry man smiled inscrutably and flipped over the last wild card. Eight of peaches. "Last chance to back out, Captain Wu." Rachel took a deep breath, glancing down at her cards. This had been a very bad idea. She glanced up at Dex, watching the game helplessly from behind Hobenson. She could not afford to lose that ship. It was more than home, to both of them—it was freedom. Without it, what were they? She looked up at him for guidance. He just nodded. Rachel sighed. "What have you got?" Hobenson smiled and dropped the cards. "Straight flush, Ssu-ling. I'm very sorry, Captain. But you must have known you couldn't beat me." Rachel sighed. "I did." She took a deep breath. "But I've been wrong before." Hobenson's eyes went wide as she dropped her hand. "Five sevens." Hobenson looked horrified as she began to stand up. "We'll go ahead and let ourselves out." Hobenson didn't speak as she led the others out of the room. Rachel eyed the bodyguards skeptically, then turned toward the door. "Captain?" Rachel spun on her heel and looked at Hobenson expectantly. "A good game." She nodded. "I'll see you again." Rachel nodded calmly, the nervousness she'd been faking for the past ten minutes banished. "I look forward to it." "Daddy!" Amelia ran directly into her father's arms, swinging up onto Artemis' open cargo ramp. Rachel smiled and tapped Chafee's shoulder as he swung the child back down to his side, a grateful smile lighting his eyes. "Thank you, Captain. Words can't express what you've done for me." Rachel shook her head. "Wo men shi xi bang mang." Rachel passed Chafee a slip of credit notes, and shrugged at his puzzled expression. "Everyone donated a little of what they won. It's about five hundred square." "I…I can't accept this. You've done too much already…" "Learn a trade. Get her into some corporate school." Chafee opened his mouth to protest, then merely smiled. As Chafee led Amelia off the cargo ramp, Mona slid into place behind the captain. "That was mighty nice, Miss Wu." Rachel shrugged. "Didn' think you were one give money to strangers." Rachel smiled. "Just remind me o' some folk I used to know, is all." She glanced down at Mona's curious expression and grinned. "Jus' get us back in the black." "Aye, aye, Cap'n." As the cargo bay doors slid closed, Rachel watched them walk off into the crowd. Jasmine would be about Mona's age now. She wondered what she would look like. With a shake of her head, Rachel let the doors obscure her view of the Chafees and began to walk slowly back toward the bridge.