Page 72 of Escape Velocity

“We brought two carry bags,” Rafe said. “We have more clothing in the shuttle.”

Gatroux looked toward the female contingent, then back at Amber. “You go off with the woman. The men will talk.”

Her gaze shot to Max. “Is it allowed?”

He didn’t love being separated, but he said, “Okay.”

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Amber followed the ladies and some of the children to a cleared space between two of the houses. A couple of the younger women had gone off and now came back with blankets which they spread on the ground.

“Lay your goods out where we can see everything,” the woman with salt and pepper hair said.

“Thank you. What is your name?” Amber asked as she took dresses from one of the carry bags. The other had men’s shirts, and she spread them out, too.

“Camilla,” the woman answered as she held up a dress that drew murmurs of approval from the ladies. But Amber noticed that they didn’t just admire the pretty fabrics; they also examined the seams and other details to assess the workmanship.

“What is the cost?” a petite blond asked.

Amber thanked the gods that she’d talked about this with the men. She told the women what Rafe had said.

“We don’t have the machines where you pay,” one of the women said.

“Paper credits are fine.”

It seemed that some of the women badly wanted to buy dresses—and shirts for their men.

A couple of them went off and came back with the kind of money Max had used on the space station when he’d paid the forger.

Many of the women bought the dresses and shirt, and in a very short time, Amber had collected a lot of money. She was relieved when Max and Rafe showed up.

“Look how much I’ve sold,” she said, turning over the payments.

“That’s great,” Rafe approved, like this was their prime reason for being at the camp.

“It wasn’t hard. The dresses sell themselves.”

“We’ll have to bring back more,” Rafe said, keeping up the pretense that they were traders focused on business.

“The head man has invited us to have dinner with them,” Max said.

“Then we’d best get the meal together,” Camille said.

The women stood, put the unsold clothing back into the carry bags, folded up the blankets and took them away.

When they were alone, Amber spoke in a low voice. “Did you mention anything about. . .?”

Max gave a quick shake of his head, and she didn’t finish the question.

“Later,” he said.

She badly wanted to know if they could trust these people and if they could get some help, but she saw that Max didn’t think it was safe to discuss the subject.

He led her back the way they’d come to a spot where women were setting up long wooden tables with short legs.

“No chairs?” she asked.

“I guess not.”

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