Chase went back into the kitchen and sank down into the nearest available chair. The scare of the transmission has put everyone on edge, but fortunately it had been a wave from Isis. She had forgotten that the dock keepers occasionally waved ships that were near the Shadow docks. It seemed that this ship was headed where she’d wanted to come anyway, for one reason or another.

“Mind tellin’ me what all that was about?” asked Mal. “Sounded like code, if’n I’m not mistaken.”

“Mais oui, it was.”

“What did you tell them?” demanded Zoe.

Chase heaved a sigh. “I said that there were four people “of interest” to the Alliance in my company; ones we’d need to hide. I also said that there were others that might warrant questioning if the wrong people got hold of them. I also said the ship might be tagged."

“And who’s this ‘Phantom Grease’ fella? And who’s an old dealer? Runnin’ from sharks, ain’t ya?” Jayne cast a fresh skeptical eye on her, all the while keeping his hands near the rather large blade hanging from his belt. If Chase hadn’t known better, it would have reminded her of a miniature meat cleaver.

“I’ve never seen a shark in space. How do they breathe?”

“Ruttin’ hell! You’re in for coin, admit it!”

Chase held her hands in the air, trying to show the man she was both unarmed and not inclined to fight him. “No. And to answer your question, those “names” are handles.”

“Say what?”

“Handles. My working name, if you prefer. All dealers have one that work outside the Common. It’s to keep our real identities a secret. My handle is Grey Ghost, or Fantome Gris in Creole-speak. Nicholas the Elder, the leader of the Creoles, uses the handle “Old Dealer” when speaking on outside lines of communication.” Chase saw a few faces relax, if ever so slightly.

“The older man you spoke to?” asked Simon.

“That would be him. There’s nothing more to do but land the ship now, and you have clearance to land on the Shadow docks. I’d take the offer of a slip, because you