"I haven't been in your private files," he adds. "I just - notice things."

She nods once.

So, awkward uncertain silence, then?

Apparently so!

"I am," she murmurs, "less than clear on what you know or what you plan to do with it."

"I don't plan to do anything. You're breaking the law, but why should I care? I remember when Earth was a prewarp civilization."

Isabella relaxes marginally. "...Ah."

"...Did you think I was going to turn you in? I'm not," he says. "The less contact I have with any kind of authority, the better. I wouldn't turn someone in even for a crime I didn't want them to commit."

"I suppose that's fair. So now we both have blackmail material on each other, I suppose."

He laughs.

"I probably shouldn't have named my ship Prometheus. It's a common name, but I suppose it must make everything snap into place obviously if you formulate even half of a correct guess."

"It kind of does," he agrees.

"Maybe I should change it. I considered keeping Andes or going with the considerably more subtle Nicholas."

"Nicholas?" he echoes inquisitively.

"As in," she smiles, "the saint."

"But possibly a name change will draw attention, too. I am unsure what will be the most useful at maintaining cover. I expect to be caught and confined to a small moon for the rest of my life eventually but would like to postpone it as long as possible."

"I'd rescue you," he says whimsically.

"Would you? Really?"

"Why not? It's something I've never done before. And I like you."

"You have known me for just over a week and I spent most of that time less than - coherent. I am aware that you like me, but a willingness to break into a Federation prison to release me is a step beyond."

"Not for me it's not."