Copyright © 2018 by Jennifer Foehner Wells

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Jennifer Foehner Wells

Blue Bedlam Science Fiction

www.jenthulhu.com

jen@jenthulhu.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover Art © 2018 Galen Dara

Book Layout © 2018 Vellum

Vengeance/ Jennifer Foehner Wells. — 1st ed.

ISBN 9781720035770 (paperback edition)

Created with Vellum

For all those struggling to construct a better future for our tiny inconspicuous world.

“Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace.”

Eugene O'Neill

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

A Note from the Author’s Desk...

About the Author

1

Raub woke, every muscle contracting in a violent spasm, his body arching off the ground except for head and feet. Panic seized him when he realized he could not inhale deeply. Pain radiated from his chest outward in waves, each ragged, shallow breath a labor with great cost. His skin felt tight and hot, but those were the only sensations he could detect from that organ. Slowly, his muscles relented, and he eased back to the earth.

Thought was muddled, slow and stuttering.

His crusted and swollen eyes opened with difficulty. Only a bright, hazy impression registered. His vision was compromised. That was a blow.

He tried to move. Pain shrieked through his body, every nerve on fire. He didn’t have enough air to support rising from the ground. He was prone and vulnerable to predation.

It hit him like an asteroid pounding him into the soil: he was quite clearly on the brink of death.

But he was not dead yet.

He didn’t know how long he had lain there, virtually hypoxic, with just the smallest squeeze of his heart pushing blood from his compromised lungs to his brain, barely keeping it alive. He could feel it thud from time to time, a sludgy gush echoing in his ears.

He focused on breathing alone. Allowing his panic to escalate could be deadly. Whatever had happened to him, whatever was going to happen from here, he would deal with it stepwise.

Each searing breath reached a little deeper than the one before until one inhalation stimulated a wracking cough that sapped what little energy he’d collected. But something foul passed over his lips, and he was able to breathe a little easier.

More oxygen made its way to his brain. He started to remember.

Choler exploded in his mind, though his body was incapable of any expression of it.

The vixen Darcy Eberhardt had made a fool of him. She had collected lightning from the air and used it against him.

He’d collapsed, passing into a state of torpor to conserve oxygen when his lung tissue had been all but destroyed. Only tiny slips of air had passed through his nostrils after that while he trod in a dark dreamland—barely enough to allow his lungs to heal, bit by bit. Luckily, he’d been flush with the vasdasz on an oxygen-rich planet, or he might not have survived this long.

He’d sensed her come near in those last moments of clarity. She’d put her head to his chest. The little fool had no idea where his heart was, tucked deep under his left armpit, thudding perhaps once per minute. He’d lain there, as helpless as most of the pless wandering the galaxy, waiting for her to deliver the killing blow, to sever his head as the drudii had always done in the old tales as a warning to never let down one’s guard. But she’d laid her head on his chest briefly, like a weak-willed apology, then moved away.

The memory twisted in his gut.

Gone. He’d failed.

Failed in his life’s mission.

And according to the ancient law of his people, he was dead.

It didn’t matter if his heart still beat or his brain still functioned. His sensory organs, nearly all of them, were clearly destroyed. His sight was nothing more than a hazy, bright blur. His sensate skin and the attached hairs, burnt and useless. Auditory perception was reduced to a muffled roar. His superior faculties of smell seared to null.

He was blind in almost every way. A hunter who could not hunt was worse than dead. A burden, a craven halfwit, sapping the resources of the people.

He would be put down.

They would expect the ceremony. If his people discovered him in this condition, they would force it upon him.

His lips curled in disgust, splitting and cracking until thick blood oozed from them. Ceremonies. Laws. Rules. They were rooted in a past that had decayed past sagacity. When his clan left their world of origin because of the influx of offworlders and their bourgeois influence, they should have left that drivel behind along with the rest of it.

He had always railed against their mindless rules. He’d skirted them, defied them, ignored them throughout his life to the point of risking his status as head of family. And then he’d left.

Why follow those rules now?

He coughed again, uncontrollably, until he felt his gorge rise. He managed to roll on his side, nearly passing out in the process, and relieve himself of his stomach contents, which seemed to have rotted inside him. Then he panted, his breathing labored but marginally more productive.

He would not die, could not die. Not yet. Not until he was a Kappyr.

He would not leave this sphere of existence without the honor of the ultimate kill. A drudii must die at his hand. That superseded all. It was all that mattered anymore. What was left aside from reaching the most exalted status among his people?

He’d had everything a sentient being could want, but it wasn’t enough. What were possessions? What did a fortune mean? Fine food and drink, exotic entertainment, relieving his baser needs upon beautiful people in every configuration… it all became meaningless after a time.

These distractions just filled the empty hours. The hours without the hunt, the true calling of a Lovek, the greatest predator known to the galaxy.

He didn’t want that decadent life. Not anymore. It was crystal-clear to him now.

He would have his rightful life, the one of his birthright. She had cheated him of that, but he wasn’t done yet.

His rebellious stomach quelled. He eased onto his back again. In time, his body might regenerate his vision and the rest of the damage, but only if it wasn’t too far gone. Even partial regeneration would leave him better off than any other species in the galactic realms.

Even if his body were ruined, there were ways he could make himself whole again. He knew people. Even in this unfit state, he was powerful. His body could be remade anew if necessary. Perhaps even better. Law be damned.

His greatest tool was his mind. And that was intact.

Finding sustenance and shelter, using every tool left at his disposal with efficiency and intelligence, were paramount as soon as he was able to crawl or walk. He would survive this and no longer be distracted from his goals by meaningless trivialities.

His chest rattled. Another coughing fit left him lightheaded. The weakness he felt made his skin crawl. He had been brought low. He would not forget this.

That girl had done this to him.

He hadn’t even considered that she’d use the static discharge of the storm. He cursed himself for a fool. He’d underestimated her. He would not make that mistake again.

He tasted the air, the only sense left fully intact, and found nothing but ash on it. The larger predators would stay away from this dead place, finding easy quarry among the singed escapees fleeing to more vibrant places.

He was safe enough for now but wouldn’t be long. He would lie still for a few hours to gather his strength in order to find a sheltered place to recuperate.

He was far from ready to take up the pursuit. But his lungs were closer to functional, and soon the rest of him would be too. He’d find a way through that wall if he had to dig the soil with his bare hands to tunnel beneath it. Nothing would stop him. This impairment would only force him to demonstrate his determination. It would take time, but a superior hunter could wait for eons if necessary. He’d find a way. Once through, he’d appropriate one of the Belastoise’s mining craft and leave this rock to pursue the contacts that would fully restore him.

And then he’d find her and even the score. She would pay for this humiliation. Dearly.

He would become a Kappyr no matter the cost.

He closed his scarred, cloudy eyes.

He would to start the hunt anew.

But first he would heal.

2

Muckwub, if that was his real name, was a piece of work.

The local sun was beating down, creating a glare on all the white stone. Darcy dialed down the contrast on her screen, took a calming breath, did her best to hide her revulsion, and looked around as she approached the advertised location.

Her blood rushed out of control as she scanned every single face in the milling crowd.

Immediate and utter disappointment.

Adam wasn’t there.

She closed her eyes and gave herself her little pep talk. He could still be there, hidden away, the best stock kept for the best buyers. And even if he wasn’t, she still had work to do. Good could still come of this.

She stood at the foot of the remains of an immense building that must have been magnificent in the distant past. Tall columns, ornately decorated in a blocky geometric art style, soared upward at least three stories, the white stone standing in stark relief against the turquoise sky. Nothing else competed with them for her attention—just ten immense pillars to nowhere, because they didn’t hold anything up anymore. The rest of the structure had crumbled long before. Aside from the low-walled footprint, all that remained among the rubble were the columns and the steep steps that ended in a cliff where the huge building used to be. There’d been a war or a natural disaster, and things had never been put right. The entire area had been abandoned for someplace better, leaving it open for the less-fortunate to scrape out an existence within its meager shelter.

A group of people gathered at the bottom of the steps, finally. The sale was beginning. She moved forward, jockeying rudely for a better spot in the crowd, closer to Muckwub, the better to command his attention when the time came. She had to play it just right.

The trappings of the sale were galactic space age, but for all intents and purposes, Darcy might as well have time traveled to the antebellum South. Muckwub practically created a laser light show to highlight his wares. As he talked about their attributes, his voice boomed through the slum, amplified to catch people’s attention.

There were people for sale at the top of the steps.

She’d done this before. Many, many times. But it never ceased to create an ache inside her. Conflicting emotions warred for control—anger, mostly, but also sadness and hopelessness. As she stood there in this single inconsequential spot, how many others endured this humiliation on countless worlds across the galaxy? She knew the consequences, the suffering that would still be there, even generations after freedom had been found.

Every now and then she saw his merchandise grimace in pain. He must have implants on them, commonly called governors in the trade. The horrible devices worked only too well.

Darcy’s stomach churned. Inside her massive encounter suit, she chafed. She couldn’t take him down here, because this place was too heavily populated with innocent people. She wouldn’t risk their lives.

Looking around, though, she hated the fact that no one raised an eyebrow. One might think the locals were complicit, except for the fact that they looked as downtrodden as the slaves for sale. This was a depressed area. The hallmarks of poverty were everywhere she looked. These people had endured too much hardship and they couldn’t be bothered to care about the unfortunates up on the block.

But she cared. And she was damn well going to do something about it. After she found out if he had Adam or had ever seen Adam or any other human.

Every time she came to a public sale like this or was invited to a private showing, which was much harder to finagle, she got her hopes up. Maybe this time, she’d find Adam up there. But her hopes were dashed every time.

As the years went by and she found herself in seedier and seedier places, some people might have become cynical or even given up, but she hadn’t and wouldn’t.

Her stomach still fluttered at the thought of seeing him again.

She tried to be realistic. They’d both been through so much, they were bound to be entirely different people now. Maybe that thing, that special spark that had held them together through so many rough spots in the past wouldn’t be there anymore.

But she couldn’t help longing for him anyway.

She’d had plenty of boyfriends in high school and college. Boys came and went back then, and she was so focused on her academics that she never actually got attached.

But none of them had been Adam.

She didn’t know what it was about them as a couple. Maybe it was as simple as awesome sex, because damn, that was rare, but she didn’t think that could be all it was. It was complex. Their personalities meshed. He had the right mix of positivity and support. She had the right mix of goal-seeking behavior and altruism. Or something like that. She’d been training to be a doctor, not a poet. She had always relied on him for the poetry.

Something had just gelled with him. He’d understood her at a cellular level. Sure, they’d fought sometimes. Everyone did. But he was the first man who, once he’d calmed down, made an effort to understand what went wrong to get that boulder of acrimony rolling, to try to get at the heart of the miscommunication so they wouldn’t hurt each other again the same way in the future. He was fair and honest about it. He could put things in ways that she could understand. And he didn’t make empty promises, either. He followed up.

It was more than just their shared multi-race heritage. If that was all she’d needed, there were communities she could turn to. But maybe that did have something to do with it—not the commonality but the forced empathy. When you didn’t fit in anywhere, you might see the world differently, she guessed. More clearly. More… something, as a consequence of trying to find your place in the world.

Adam forgave her when she’d been a raving bitch, or fell asleep during a movie he’d really wanted to see, or when she had to beg off of date night for studying. There’d been plenty of times she hadn’t been much fun to be around. He’d stayed anyway. He knew what her goals were, and he was willing to wait for her to see them come to fruition. Not only that, he believed in her and wanted to help her get to that point. Together. As a team effort.

Surely, it was possible they could still be a team. Even if they couldn’t be lovers anymore, there had to be something that would still connect them to each other. They could decide together what to do next. Either go on fighting the slave trade or go back home and live a simpler life. Or something else entirely. It didn’t matter to her. She owed him this. She just wanted to find him. It kept her going when other people would have fallen down.

She sniffed and redirected her attention to Muckwub, where it belonged. This dude was on her radar now and she would get him eventually. This was an ancillary objective of her primary mission: seek and destroy the despots of the universe before they could ruin any more lives. She wouldn’t be finished anytime soon.

Today she was posing as a phengmar, a large sentient ethane breather. She’d had the encounter suit modified so that it would fool a scan into confirming she was phengmar. Sadly, mods like this were easy to procure, and people rarely checked, anyway.

When Muckwub finished his presentation, Darcy shouldered to the front of the line again through the shifting crowd. Her computer-generated voice echoed against the stone. She carefully kept her features neutral because the machine telescoped them out to the surface where they could be seen. “Where are you keeping the good ones?”

Muckwub wrinkled his red fleshy nose. He possessed a hulking body, top-heavy with massive shoulders. A strip of reddish brown hair ran from his heavy browline all the way down his back, ending in a stubby, shaggy tail. The stiff hairs didn’t move in the wind. She was glad she couldn’t smell him in her self-contained unit. His mottled scarlet skin harbored some seriously large pores. Small insects could get lost in there.

She didn’t recognize his species, but that wasn’t uncommon. There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of spacefaring species in the galaxy, and she hadn’t met representatives of all of them yet. Not to mention that hybrids among compatible species were common, giving rise to even greater diversity. Body alteration was also prevalent among slavers and made people diverge greatly in appearance from their species of origin. It seemed to be a status symbol in these circles to stand out and be recognizable. The concept seemed at odds with the idea of not being caught by law enforcement, but law enforcement was rarely a problem wherever these criminals tended to operate, in places just like this.

Muckwub gestured back toward the slaves at the top of the steps. “Muckwub is showing you the best. These are the best Muckwub has.” His tough upper lip caught on one of the sharp tusks protruding from his lower jaw as he finished speaking, but he didn’t seem to notice. It eventually slid back into place unharmed.

Darcy waited a beat. “No,” she said. Then she went silent. Phengmar tended to be demanding, taciturn, and patient. Most slavers kept private stock that was reserved for their best customers. That’s what she aimed to take a peek at.

“Eh?” He looked confused.

“I need strong oxies,” she said. “But small. Show me some.” Oxie was a term for oxygen-breathing sentient that phengmars used.

He pointed at a teenaged female nieblic with a rounded abdomen, a species very similar to human, and grunted.

“No. That one is pregnant. Do you have others like it?” Her skin crawled to talk about people this way. Everything about this conversation was wrong. But she’d done it before and she’d do it again. It was just an act, refined over countless instances just like this one. She would buy or take the young woman and help her get home, but she didn’t want Muckwub to know that. Yet.

“Pregnant is good. Muckwub give you two for one.”

“No.”

He scratched his head. She thought she saw something moving around in there among the bristles. Slavers weren’t generally this gross, aside from their despicable vocation. Muckwub definitely stood out in a lot of ways.

“Muckwub has more like this in Muckwub’s ship. Muckwub show you all, but Muckwub needs to sell to others first.” He looked at the buyers behind her, who were growing impatient in the heat.

She, however, was perfectly cool in her temperature-controlled suit. “No. Now.”

He hesitated. A few of his other buyers voiced protests. She didn’t acknowledge that.

She just had to get him away from this densely inhabited spot. “I will buy many if you have what I need.”

Greed. It usually clinched it. Muckwub was no different.

He invited the other buyers to come along, but few followed. Most of them flapped their arms in “what the fuck” gestures and wandered away. He summoned his merchandise, who were quick to gather near. He made a show of activating a proximity device, which would punish them severely if they strayed too far from his orbit. She’d seen it all before. More times over the years than she cared to count.

They walked among and between the detritus of fallen buildings to the outskirts of the city. She took her time picking through the rubble, though Muckwub and his attendants loped along and then waited for her to catch up periodically. The suit was expensive, and phengmars tended to treat them gingerly because the slightest breach could spell disaster for them, though they were solidly built. Hers was more robust than most. And outfitted with some very special gear.

She had to suppress a smile when she saw where he’d parked his ship. It was located perfectly. Just how she liked it—away from prying eyes and anyone who might get hurt in a fire fight if things went sideways.

She connected to Do’Vela, the telepathic squid-like kuboderan navigator of her ship who generally handled communications when anyone was planetside. “Scan the surroundings for civilians and surveillance equipment,” she said silently to the kuboderan through the anipraxic connection. This was her standard procedure if she could lure a mark away easily. Do’Vela knew exactly what she was asking.

“All clear, Captain,” Do’Vela replied with a burst of enthusiasm that seemed out of place in this dreary environment, but she was used to it.

“Excellent. Stand by.”

Her stomach fluttered again with anticipation as she crossed over the threshold and began to scan the interior for a panic room or defensive hardware. There was nothing she couldn’t handle here. This guy was a small fry compared to most.

As they crossed a room with a computer terminal, she surreptitiously shoved a mole device into the console. It would download all of Muckwub’s contacts as well as his communication and travel activity. She’d pick it back up on the way out. Hopefully, he wasn’t smart enough to use good-quality encryption.

She didn’t see anyone else on the ship. No pilot. No guards. It looked like Muckwub was a one-man operation. How meta.

Only two of the six original buyers had made it this far. One of them looked and acted like a miserable chump. The other seemed more reasonable. She’d do her best to spare them if she could. They were colluding, of course, guilty as sin, but she’d make sure they reconsidered their life goals before this was all over. And if they made things more difficult, they’d suffer the same dire consequences as Muckwub.

The corridor opened up to a filthy large chamber where about twenty individuals were chained to the walls without access to bathroom facilities. Once again, she was grateful that she didn’t have to breathe the air outside the suit.

Her heart sank. No Adam. No humans.

Muckwub looked at her expectantly. “Eh?”

“Is this everything?”

He patted his hairless, nippleless chest with satisfaction. “This is all of Muckwub’s stock.” He breathed loudly, making a har-har-har sound.

“For the work I am doing, I prefer humans,” she said, the suite’s voice reverberating through the ship in its loud monotone.

He tilted his head and pointed again at the pregnant nieblic.

“No. Not nieblic. Human.”

He looked momentarily confused, then a little angry.

“Muckwub does not have humans. Muckwub does have nieblics.”

One of the buyers cursed loudly.

“Where can I find humans? Where do you get your stock? I will give you a large commission if you can tell me where I can find them.”

He squinted at her.

“Muckwub knows nieblics work hard.”

Darcy said nothing.

His eyes shifted back and forth. He was deciding. She thumbed on the recording software to document whatever was said next in case it wasn’t immediately discernible. She’d learned that trick the hard way.

“Three hundred thousand credits for a location where I can find humans.” There was always a chance he would know of a place he had no contact or direct commerce with.

It was an exorbitant amount.

One of the buyers whistled.

Muckwub’s shaggy brows shot up and he took out his credit device lightning-fast, readying it for a transfer. “Show Muckwub and Muckwub will tell you.” His fingers slid over a console behind him and her rear camera showed the door to the room closing. No surprise there.

She held out her own slim credit device, displaying the number. “Where? I want any human slaves you know about.”

Now she was vulnerable. With the credit device open and her account accessed, any number of methods could be used to hack her accounts if she were incapacitated. She had money, thanks to Raub and all the slavers she stole from regularly, but it was finite and she had to use it wisely to continue her mission. Not to mention they’d been having plenty of trouble with hackers lately. It gave Selpis fits, managing their accounts. She’d move the money and it’d get hacked again. Not enough to stop them, but sometimes it slowed their operation down for weeks at a time.

Muckwub looked the encounter suit up and down without any guile. He was clearly trying to figure out what he could get away with. He wanted the three hundred thousand and more if he could get it.

Inside the suit, Darcy removed her own arm from operating the external arm, placed it on auto-clench and retract as soon as it detected movement, then laid her fingers over the controls for the aftermarket weapons which would emerge from ports in the chest area if needed. All of that was above her head. She occupied only a small portion of the available space inside the suit. She’d had to spend a lot of credits to make it work for her. The fit was uncomfortable and she had to train inside it regularly to maintain fast reflexes.

She wished she could just go to these things as herself and use her druid skills when necessary, but she couldn’t risk it. Not only was it dangerous to be human out here, if someone recorded her using the power of the drudii and that kind of video hit the galactic network, she’d never be able to stop running. The entire lovek race would hunt her relentlessly until she was dead. She already knew what that felt like and she wasn’t interested in an encore.

“Where?” she repeated.

Muckwub lunged nearly simultaneously with one of the buyers.

Darcy hopped back, the metallic suit clanging loudly against the grimy metal floor, to get them both in front of her. She stunned one buyer with an electric charge while the other one scuttled out of the way, not interested in a fight.

Then Muckwub was on her, grappling with the suit, twisting whatever he could grab and punching at the reinforced walls uselessly. He was heavy. Her suit wasn’t light and had decent power. She pried him off her and tossed him back, but that didn’t slow him down.

She used the stun. It had no effect. She upped the dose of electricity but didn’t get off another shot before he was on her again. She had to get some distance between them or the suit would share the volts intended for Muckwub, rendering it useless and possibly bad for its electronics.

She managed to turn him so she had plenty of room at her back. Quick slices up knocked his arms off her. She backflipped, kicking him in the head as she went, and shot off another bolt of electricity as she landed on her feet, carefully aiming so she wouldn’t hit any of the innocent slaves.

She was pretty proud of that move. It wasn’t easy in this particular encounter suit, but she’d perfected it over countless hours of practice, something positive that she’d learned from Raub, though she’d never been afraid of working hard to achieve a goal. She trained every single day of her life. She had never been athletic as a struggling medical student, but life had its way of shaping a person.

Muckwub staggered but kept coming.

Wow. This guy was tough.

She was gonna have to put a hole in him. She hated doing it, even if he was a waste of breathable air.

She aimed for his shoulder and squeezed just as he closed in. A small projectile connected with Muckwub’s shoulder and tore a good-sized hole clean through him.

Finally, he went down in a puddle of blood and gore. He’d be lucky if he could survive the infection he was going to pick up from contact with that filthy floor. She chalked that up to a problem of his own origin. Her team would patch him up before they left him naked without ID or money in a remote location.

And took his ship. Taking slavers’ ships handicapped them to the point of uselessness, allowing her to leave them alive. Her instincts warred constantly over that with her conscience, but that was how she’d decided to handle it. So far, she hadn’t regretted that decision, though she was sure it would catch up with her eventually. Hopefully, by that point, she’d have found Adam and made an entirely new life for herself. The old Darcy Eberhardt would be a ghost.

She quickly did another pass, looking again for any partners Muckwub might have. Surprises in situations like this were always unwelcome. She shuddered at the extent of the filth in every nook and cranny. She didn’t envy the cleanup crew. They’d earn a bonus for this job.

Stealing slavers’ ships helped her cause immensely. She could glide right into places in those ships that she hadn’t been able to get into safely in the Vermachten once word got out that it’d been targeting slavers. Nembrotha had applied for a permit to change the ship’s name and docking codes, but they were hard to get and the petition had been mired in red tape for years.

Darcy had started out clumsily, not knowing exactly what to do. She knew better now.

In the early days, she’d worked with the system, alerting local law enforcement of these operations as she uncovered them. She’d tried that for a year or so, though Nembrotha had counseled against it from the start. He’d been right, as usual. Word got around in the slaving community. The Vermachten had been marked as harboring an informant, making it difficult to move freely without being targeted, sometimes by the law itself. And the slavers were back in action within hours or days seven out of ten times. Those weren’t odds she liked. So, now she just meted out her own brand of rogue justice, and no one seemed to care as long as she was careful.

She thought of it as a public service.

Most of her crews were former slaves or family members of former slaves. Once they were medically fit and mentally stable, they all needed jobs. And most of them liked the thought of taking revenge on the industry that had hurt them, despite the risks. According to the therapists she kept on staff, it wasn’t the healthiest career choice for them; they should be reintegrating into their respective societies and rebuilding their lives there.

But if someone asked her for a job, she found a place for them. She’d amassed a fleet of ships over the last few years, and they all needed people to fix them when they broke and people to move them from place to place. Hain and Do’Vela took care of most of the coordination of all of that stuff. They were surprisingly good at management, and Hain was a much more pleasant person now that she was out from under Raub’s thumb.

Darcy had stayed on the Vermachten despite all the negative memories it harbored, though she could have had her pick among the ships she’d stolen. It was the largest in her fleet and packed the most defense and offense. That was reason enough. She was no stranger to facing unhappy truths. It kept her frosty. She randomly selected one of the other ships to use as a shuttle whenever she went planetside. The Vermachten always remained nearby but well hidden.

She turned her attention to Muckwub’s victims. Sometimes, the slaves cheered at this point. Not this time. These folks looked terrified. They were probably wondering if she was going to treat them even worse than Muckwub. She tried reassuring them, but it didn’t change their demeanor. She was stomping around inside a frighteningly large suit, so it would probably be for the best if she just shut up and let them see for themselves when her teams showed up.

It was a good thing she’d recently hired another counseling team for the fleet. These folks were going to need some help recovering from their captivity. And maybe also the sight of her giant mechanized suit wiping the floor with Muckwub.

Experience had taught her it was better to assist them in this way than to just drop them off at home. Their earliest reintegration outcomes hadn’t been the best. It didn’t do any good to save them if their lives were still ruined after all this.

She stood over Muckwub’s writhing form. He was attempting to staunch the bleeding from his meaty shoulder. His pinkish eyes rolled around with the pain. “Where can I find humans?” she ground out, though the computer voice sounded far more reasonable.

He spit on her suit.

“Tell me or I finish you,” she said. It was a bluff, but he didn’t know that.

His nostrils flared but he didn’t speak.

She poked his wound with the business end of one of the weapons still sticking out of the chest of her suit.

“Talas 3,” he growled reluctantly. “Muckwub hears Picci saying there’s humans.”

It was a location she hadn’t heard of before. She’d put it on the list of places for her teams to investigate ASAP.

“Where on Talas 3? Who runs the operation?”

He grunted. “Muckwub doesn’t know who runs it. Muckwub only knows what Muckwub hears. Talas 3 is inside asteroid. Nothing else there. Dead system. Good place for hiding.”

Her gut said he was telling the truth. She nodded. The suit nodded for her. She was satisfied that this was a good lead and that she was unlikely to get anything else of use from him.

She turned to the potential buyer who was still conscious and cowering in the corner. “What do you think you need a slave for?”

He held his hands up and shook his head, sweat pouring down the side of his thin blue pebbled face. “My wife died. I don’t have any family. I need someone to help raise my kids.”

Darcy punched the door control so he could leave. “Try being nice to someone. It’s amazing what people will do for a friend or loved one. Get out. And do not speak to anyone of what happened here today. I’ll know and I will come for you.” She didn’t like playing the villain, but she’d accepted long before that it was effective.

He scrambled away without looking back.

She connected with Do’Vela again. “Ready for my pickup team and a pilot. I’ve got…” She looked around the room, counting. “Seventeen clients this time and two for relocation.”

Darcy eased her suit down into a more comfortable position to wait, hoping to look less threatening to the former slaves while keeping an eye on Muckwub and the buyer who was still out cold. This was her life now. Sometimes, it sucked like this. But sometimes, the good outweighed the bad.

It was not the life she’d dreamed of as an undergraduate back in Ohio, but at least she was doing something to help people, which was at the core of what she’d wanted, at least.

She’d accepted long before that medical school on Earth wasn’t going to happen for her anymore. There were other alternatives. Most medical care was done by machines, but there were people who trained in medical xenobiology who took on tough cases that the machines couldn’t handle, especially among the lesser-known species. Hain had a degree in that field, among several others. Darcy could do the same if she wanted to settle down on one planet for a while.

Finding Adam would come first, before anything else. She would remain in this state of limbo until that happened. There were worse things.

She hoped that after today, she was another step closer to finding him.

3

For Adam Benally, this day was just like every other day. It had no beginning or end. No high point or low point. Nothing to mark the time except for food and water deliveries. Did they come twice per day? Three times? More? It was impossible to say. He barely noticed when they arrived. Just a slight scrape as the flap opened and the miserable stuff was pushed through onto the narrow ledge. Even when he was awake, he often missed it.

It hardly mattered. He ate and drank enough to stay alive. That was all he could manage. There was never enough water to fully slake his thirst. And the food barely qualified for the title. He steadily grew thinner, his body consuming itself in desperation until his clothes hung on him and his ribs stuck out.

He slept as much as possible. There was nothing else to do. When he couldn’t sleep, he sat on the floor just for the novelty. Or he paced. Sometimes jumping jacks or running in place, but he didn’t do that much anymore. He didn’t have the energy for it. What was the point?

His cell was roughly eight feet long and five feet wide when measured by his very own feet. How long his own feet were, he couldn’t be sure, but it made sense that human feet and measurement feet would be in the same range, historically. The usage of the term had to come from somewhere.

He judged the ceiling height to be eight and a half to nine feet. He couldn’t quite reach it, even on tiptoes unless he jumped really high to brush it with his fingertips. He hadn’t done that for a while. Maybe he’d do it again later.

He remembered the time he and Darcy lay in bed, sort of measuring each other. She’d held up her smaller hand against his, palm to palm. Her foot against his, bottom to bottom. She named all his bones and showed him where they were. His muscles, too. Complimented his deltoids, pectoralis, and bicep muscles. Those were the ones he could remember, anyway. She noted that while his body overall was larger, her legs were actually longer.

He told her that meant she should be a runner. She’d given him the side-eye.

He laughed at the memory. His voice sounded too loud in the silence.

Sometimes, he rocked. Probably for hours. Maybe for days. He rocked until his butt hurt, but he kept rocking anyway because at least he felt something.

Sometimes, he thought about pounding his head against the wall or the floor or the ledge where the food came in. He hadn’t done that yet. But he thought about it.

There was just enough room in his cell for a platform bed—a block, really, of a dense indestructible foam-like material—and a bizarre two-piece toilet that took him exactly three urinations and seven bowel movements to master. That was his world. Bed and toilet and walls.

At least here he couldn’t miss the toilet when he went. It wasn’t really possible to miss, the way it was built, just a vacuum-sucking funnel sticking up out of the wall at about the right height.

Darcy would like that design, he thought. She always made him clean the bathroom floor around the toilet. She said when he started sitting down to pee, they could take turns, but until then, that mess was all his.

Once in a while, he’d clean up his cell. It took only moments to tidy things up, and he didn’t have any way to do the job properly, but the whole time, he’d be immersed in memories of Darcy’s ritualistic Saturday-morning cleaning frenzy. Nearly every week she’d uttered the words, “Grandma Harriet would be appalled at the state this apartment has fallen into.”

She’d dust and vacuum and get down on all fours to do ridiculous things like wipe down the baseboards. He did his best to scrub alongside her, though he never thought it was as bad as she did. It was funny because most of the time, she was a slob, leaving everything lie where it was, but come Saturday morning, there was hell to pay. And she judged herself far more harshly than he ever would, more harshly than she judged his messes too.

Those Saturday mornings used to annoy him sometimes, just a little. But he’d give anything to be there with her now.

His cell was dim most of the time. Occasionally, a bright light came on for a few minutes, and Adam imagined he could see figures on the other side of the dark glass walls. It was probably a one-way mirror. He didn’t know why they wanted to look at him randomly, but they did. It didn’t make any sense, compared to the scope of their indifference.

No one spoke to him. Ever. Not since the plant lady and the insect man had hovered over him, operating on his brain and teaching him an alien language.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

And that was why he was here, he supposed. This had to be a maximum-security prison or mental hospital. He was obviously in solitary confinement.

Plant lady and insect man? Really? He’d obviously experienced visions or hallucinations or something.

Maybe he’d hurt someone.

A sob lodged in the back of his throat whenever he thought of this. He hoped he hadn’t hurt Darcy. He would never ever hurt her on purpose. He loved her.

But he’d been alone with her when all this started.

He remembered the desert. A long hike. And then Darcy was glowing blue and there was a spaceship and aliens and they tried to escape—

He had to be sick. To have memories like that.

If he was sick, why didn’t they try to fix him? Was he beyond all hope? Had he done something so dire? Was he such a danger to himself and others? If he’d done something horrible, he was grateful that he couldn’t remember that, but the gnawing worry that he had—that maybe he’d become a serial killer or a mass murderer—was agony. He had to have done something far beyond the strictures of man to deserve treatment like this.

But he didn’t remember a trial. No court. No judge. No lawyer.

Unless.

Unless he’d got it all wrong. If everything he’d ever learned about the world he lived in was wrong.

And Darcy had glowed blue. She’d seemed so scared. And there was a spaceship and a plant woman and an insect man.

Then he was in a zoo. An alien zoo. Like in an episode of an old scifi series. Looked upon for pleasure, but only occasionally.

Which was worse?

If he hadn’t been insane when they locked him up in there, he had to be by now. He knew that. He wasn’t right anymore.

If he ever managed to escape, could he ever be okay again?

And where was Darcy? Was she here too?

God, he hoped not.

She had to be out there fighting for him. That’s what she’d do.

Darcy. Darcy. Darcy. Sometimes, he just whispered her name like a mantra. Or a prayer. It was the only thing he could say that came out right.

When he spoke aloud, the words seemed okay in his head but they came out as strange, twisted sounds. It scared him, so he stopped speaking aloud.

Unless he forgot. Then it scared him again.

He wished he could sleep forever.

His hair had grown long. He ran his fingers through the coils to make them stand out from his scalp until he could see them bouncing in his peripheral vision when he rocked, drooping over his forehead in dry, frizzy clumps. He wondered why it kept growing when the rest of his body was shrinking.

His facial hair covered most of his face. He felt like a bear or a lion. He was more animal than man these days. Darcy had always said she’d like to see how he looked with a beard, but he wouldn’t want her to see him now like this.

Except he did. Desperately.

There was no way to bathe. He couldn’t spare the drinking water—not even a drop. He was too thirsty. The oils his body produced were a film that coated his skin. It made him feel disgusting.

If they ever let Darcy come to see him, she would find him repulsive. He longed to be clean to the point that sometimes he rubbed his blanket over his body so hard, he scraped the skin until it bled. But then the blanket was dirty, and he couldn’t wash that, either. He covered himself with it anyway, letting the dirt and oils migrate back to his body where they seemed to belong.

He was rocking again. On the bed this time, facing the corner for a different viewpoint. The bruises on his buttocks hurt despite the softer material. But that was good. It was something.

And the light came on. He closed his eyes, then squinted, using his hand to block the worst of the light. He tried to see the other people. The guards or the other prisoners or the other mental patients. Gradually, his eyes adjusted, though the brightness was still painful. He couldn’t really see anything, but that didn’t stop his mind from trying to make the shadows into something coherent.

He heard sounds. He was sure of it. Muffled voices. His heart sped up. He’d never heard voices before. The light was still on.

He stood.

He smoothed his hair down with his palms and scrubbed at his beard to try to make it look as small as possible. He tucked his ratty shirt into his pants and stood there, waiting, twitching with nervousness. That was the best he could do to make himself presentable. If he was presentable, they might consider freeing him, right?

There was someone out there. Was it time to let him out? Had he served his sentence? Was he being moved to the general population?

Had Darcy come to see him?

Or was it finally time for his execution?

4

Darcy sat across from Tesserae71 in a small dining chamber just off the galley. Four white plastic bowls, four small assorted cups, and three spork-like eating utensils of various configurations were laid out on the table.

Her stomach grumbled loud enough for Tesserae71 to hear. He cocked his head at her and chirruped softly, his version of a nonverbal question.

“I forgot to eat today,” she said grimly in a low voice, hoping that Selpis and Nembrotha wouldn’t hear her so that she could beg off if the impending meal was, well, more than she could handle. “It was a fleet training day. I put the pilots through their paces. Then I did a practice flight in the Crimson Glow. And I had a session with Yunto after that. I was too busy to remember to eat.”

Tesserae71’s mandible worked for a moment. Then he said, “This would be the Chaos Caper you were practicing, yes?”

“Chaos Waltz,” she corrected, her mouth twitching into a concerned grimace momentarily. “Yep. That’s what we were practicing. It’s a complex maneuver but we’re finally getting it down, I think.”

She stared at him as long as she dared without making him uncomfortable. It wasn’t like him to make even little mistakes like that. She worried his memory was failing. Tesserae71 wasn’t looking too good these days. His shell seemed dull and had lost most of its bright green coloration, leaving him drab and grayish. He also didn’t seem as talkative as he used to be. The regen gel she’d used on him when he almost died taking a shot for her was failing. Hain had been working on a more permanent solution for a long time, but if she didn’t come up with a good treatment soon, he might die. The thought was like a stab in her heart.

Darcy looked down at the tablet she’d laid on the table a few minutes before, to hide her worried expression, but she wasn’t actually reading. Hain said she was getting close. But what if her breakthrough came too late?

Do’Vela sensed her worry and sent an inquiring mental ping. Darcy let her in, hoping to distract herself. The hunger combined with the worry was making her feel morose. Do’Vela’s chirpy demeanor might cheer her up.

Or annoy her to no end.

“Hain is making incredible progress,” Do’Vela said. “Considering the dearth of documentation about hymenoptera physiology within the scientific domain. I have lent my aid to the cause wherever possible. If anyone can do it, Hain can!”

Do’Vela was a cheerleader for those she loved, and Hain had saved Do’Vela from a miserable existence, so her response was no surprise. Darcy rubbed her eyes. They were dry and scratchy.

“You should get more sleep. It’s astounding how much sleep most species require!” Do’Vela said with the solemnity of a child who is learning adult ways.

“Yeah, I should,” Darcy replied via anipraxia, her mental voice as dry as her eyes.

“The nightmares still plague you?” Do’Vela asked sweetly.

Darcy grimaced, instantly even more uncomfortable. She didn’t like to think about the nightmares when she was awake, because it was apparently all she could think about when she was unconscious. They were nightly, sometimes multiple times per night. Every dream revolved around Adam—searching for him for the rest of her life but never finding him. Finding him but being snared and enslaved by his captor. Finding him and discovering he’d fallen in love with someone else after their long separation. Finding him, but his reaction being hatred that it had taken her so long to do so. Finding him and discovering that he wanted to go back to Earth—and she didn’t. Or… finding… his body.

To her credit, Do’Vela caught a whiff of her discomfort. “I will endeavor to research anthropoid sleep cycles. Perhaps I can find a way to influence them to your benefit.” And with that, she removed herself from Darcy’s mind before she could protest. She shrugged. They’d talk about it later.

Something metal clanged against the floor in the galley on the other side of the wall. Darcy raised her brows at Tesserae71 and drummed her fingers on the table, unable to hide her impatience any longer. Yummy aromas had been emanating from the galley for what seemed like hours.

Nembrotha definitely had a flair for the dramatic. She and Tesserae71 had been summoned to the dining chamber by Do’Vela some time before, and Darcy’s stomach had been protesting its emptiness for a while. She knew the little slug had wanted them to suffer some anticipation and then gush over the final dish when it was unveiled. That was a foregone conclusion. She hoped she could give them the response they craved. She was more than ready to eat something fresh and tasty.

Bland prepackaged food of various types was all they had normally. Most of these were dehydrated and meant to be reconstituted when needed. Some were pressed into dense cakes and bars that were hard to get down without a tall beverage. Water was too heavy and too expensive to be shipped as a component of food around the galaxy. Locally grown foods were costly and seldom available to travelers in ports unless available in excess to planetary dwellers themselves. The food they had on the ship was just fuel. It wasn’t a pleasurable experience. Ever.

She stifled a sigh. Even if she could eat something fresh, no one out in the black knew how to make pot roast and mashed potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs, ham and beans, or gooey mac and cheese with the crunchy stuff on top. In a fit of homesickness, she’d lamented that fact. And then she’d had to describe what those things were and how they’d tasted, made by her father’s hands, as best she could in an alien language with analogues that would make sense to her alien friends.

In retrospect, it might have been a mistake to mention missing her father’s home cooking in the presence of Nembrotha. The slug had imperiously declared that they would prepare one of their finest dishes. At the time, she’d been so intensely homesick that the slug’s offer had seemed sweet.

And then the preparations began. Ingredients had to be obtained, some of them rare enough to be hard to find, especially in the raunchier ports they found themselves in. This went on for quite a while before the actual day for the dinner had been decided. The whole time, Nembrotha waxed poetic about the finer points of aroma and complexity of flavor, even remarking that no one on the ship possessed a palate that would truly be able to appreciate the nuances of a baryanian-prepared dish, aside from the slug themself, of course.

In the intervening time between the offer and the actuality, she’d questioned the wisdom of accepting. For one thing, Nembrotha didn’t have hands. Or arms. Or legs, for that matter.

Presumably, Selpis had been doing most of the prep work. Darcy could hear the two of them talking on the other side of the grimy metallic wall—Selpis’s calm and unhurried commentary interrupted by Nembrotha’s somewhat slurpy but nonetheless lordly declarations.

And things were clanking around in there. So, Selpis had to be participating in some way, because while Nembrotha might be able to lift a spoon with their two lower sensory tentacles—she’d seen them do some remarkable things with them—moving a cooking pot large enough to feed four people was a stretch. Darcy imagined that Nembrotha was perched on Selpis’s shoulders, barking peremptory orders, while the reptilian sauria moved languidly to obey them in her good-natured way.

Darcy was frankly afraid to go in and see for herself, and anyway, she’d been warned by Nembrotha ahead of time not to interrupt their gastronomic genius at work.

Hain, Darcy’s co-captain, was in the process of supervising a refueling. She had been excluded from this dubious gathering because she did not actually eat. All her energy came from light, being a sort of plant-like species. Lucky break for her.

It did smell good, however. It smelled better than almost anything she’d consumed since she’d been abducted five years prior, though she couldn’t quite put a finger on what it actually smelled like.

Finally, Selpis emerged with a large tray bearing an ornate shiny silver tureen. She’d filled out a bit since they’d met in their respective prison cells years before. She still looked graceful and lithe but not quite so wiry, and her brown-and-green mottled skin gleamed with health. Her soft reptilian features were set in a satisfied closed-mouth smile. Around her neck, like an oversized moist scarf, Nembrotha preened, his orange-tipped ocular sensor stalks thinned out to an extreme length, high and alert, to observe their reaction.

Selpis set the platter down and settled herself into a chair. Then she leaned forward and lifted the lid away with a flourish.

“Let the adulation commence,” Nembrotha lisped loudly.

The tureen contained a glossy red sauce within which floated small meaty-looking brown balls, some sort of greens, and smallish white grain.

No one said anything.

Darcy cleared her throat and tried to exert some enthusiasm in her voice. “What is it?”

Nembrotha slapped his lips together wetly. “You described spheres of minced flesh when you reminisced about the cuisines of your home world. I present to you baryanian spheres of flesh. Every erudite culture creates some sort of sphere of flesh. It’s been thoroughly documented.”

Tesserae71 clacked a sound of dismay. “I didn’t know the Baryana were cannibals.”

Nembrotha’s ocular stalks swung toward Tesserae71. “What’s this rubbish you say? Don’t be a numbskull. It’s a baryanian recipe. Not baryanians.” He turned his head away, clearly affronted. Then continued to grumble: “We haven’t been cannibals for hundreds of years. Over one thousand, actually.”

Darcy bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing out loud, but a soft half-snort sneaked out.

Selpis leaned forward and picked up the serving spoon. “We should partake of the meal before it cools overmuch.”

Nembrotha sniffed, his head still turned away. They said, sulkily, “It is at the prime serving temperature just now. It won’t wait. In twenty minutes, it will be pure swill.”

“It smells delicious,” Darcy said as Selpis passed her bowl back to her.

“Of course it does!” Nembrotha spluttered. “I made it, didn’t I?”

When all the bowls had been served, the three of them eyed each other warily. Nembrotha continued to pout.

Selpis dipped her spork into the sauce and Darcy did the same, steeling herself a little. Tesserae71 scooped up a meatball and leaned over it, eyeing it closely. Selpis sipped gingerly and Darcy bravely followed suit.

An explosion of flavor assaulted her senses. Her eyes widened and met Selpis’s, a mirror of her own expression.

It was good. It was more than good.

She immediately slurped up some more and tried to discern what she liked about it. It simultaneously tasted familiar—savory and salty with a slight tang—but the components had unexpected profiles. It was meaty but perhaps more gamey or just exotic. The piquancy wasn’t from lemon, vinegar, or tomato but some other acidic ingredient. It was the best thing she’d eaten in years. She resisted the urge to gobble it down and savored it, letting the sauce roll over her entire tongue as she slowly chewed each bite, taking in the chewy grain, the mildly bitter greens, the tender meatballs.

“Well?” Nembrotha demanded when no one was forthcoming with praise.

Selpis said, “It’s lovely.”

Tesserae71 clicked enthusiastic agreement.

Darcy swallowed. “It’s fantastic!” She ladled another bite.

Nembrotha’s ocular antennae shortened and his lips drew out into a self-satisfied line. “It is nothing short of exquisite. My reputation as chemist is beyond reproach. Few are talented enough to be trained to secrete at this level. The culinary arts are truly beneath me, but I made an exception for you, Darcy.” He nodded slowly.

Darcy hesitated, the spork nearly at her lips, as a mouthful slid slowly down her throat. She looked down at the food in front of her. “Did you just say… secrete?”

“The things I had to ingest to produce this. You should be honored that anyone would go to such trouble.”

Darcy set the spork back down and swallowed, pushing her chair back a couple of inches. “You… secreted this?” The back of her hand raised unconsciously to her lips and she looked around wildly, holding back the urge to cough. Tesserae71 and Nembrotha continued to eat serenely.

“Of course I did. What did you think I would do?” they asked haughtily.

“I thought you were cooking,” she replied. “Cooking ingredients.”

Selpis looked up, an inquiring expression on her face. “I formed the globes from the various meats to Nembrotha’s specifications and minced the vegetables while they produced the sauce. The globes were browned in jubnuit oil. The vegetables and grains softened after that. Then the final product was combined and warmed. It was a collaborative effort.” She took another bite.

Darcy put her elbows on the table and rested her forehead on her knuckles, looking down at the food, trying to decide which emotion in the maelstrom to go with.

Nembrotha secreted it. That was… gross.

But it was delicious. Or, it was. Before she knew how they made it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I observe the strictest standards of hygiene. I’ve produced medicaments to cure the most obscure diseases for the high court of Yamaah. My methods are completely aseptic. And I shouldn’t have to tell you that the nutritional profile exceeds anything you’ll get from a dietary bar,” they said indignantly.

Darcy held up a hand. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

She forced herself to think logically. Who knew what bizarre foods she’d eaten since she’d left home? Most of the time she had no idea what she was consuming. And truly, commonly eaten foods on Earth could be pretty strange when you really thought about it. Eggs were the unfertilized ova of a bird. Milk was baby cow food. It was secreted. And honey. Honey was really weird. Bees collected nectar from flowers and digested it in a special stomach and then regurgitated it, passing it from bee’s mouth to bee’s mouth until it was finally stored to save for later, when food would be scarce. She had no problems eating eggs, milk, or honey. She loved them, in fact.

She took a deep breath, forced her mind to go blank, and kept eating. It was delicious.

Once Darcy resumed eating, Nembrotha slid down from Selpis’s shoulders and delicately sipped from his own bowl. They continued in silence, broken only by the sounds of sporks clattering and scraping against plastic.

In the end, she stuffed herself. She hadn’t eaten that much in ages. It felt good to be pleasantly full for a change. She leaned back with a hand on her distended stomach. “Oh, that was good. Thank you both.”

“Don’t expect anything more anytime soon,” Nembrotha spluttered, red sauce ringing their dark blue lips.

Darcy smiled.

Hain came in, the ornate ferny fronds that adorned her head swishing as she looked over the remains of their feast. “Refueling is complete. Do’Vela is initiating a jump sequence.”

Darcy nodded, sobering a little. This interlude was over. It was time to get back to work.

5

Nokk, a stinking beast covered in unruly, unkempt fur, led Falrau through the passageways of a ship called the Juisuit. She kept ample distance between them. She couldn’t imagine how her brother could tolerate having such folk so near.

Falrau had been summoned by Raub and she’d had no option but to obey. Raub had held the clan’s purse strings for decades, affording them an easy lifestyle that she’d never had to think about, and he’d just cinched that purse shut, leaving them destitute. He said he would fund the family again, but only if she met him there. He’d provided her with a non-refundable one-way ticket. The possibility of Raub returning to Loveka to speak with her had not been presented as an option.

So, she’d come.

Leaving Loveka was considered wrong, distasteful in their culture. The outside was rife with commercialism, greed, disrespect, and dishonor, or so she’d been told since birth. She would have been perfectly happy to never experience it firsthand.

And yet… she couldn’t deny that the journey had been quite exciting in ways she never could have anticipated. Though what she could only describe as a loathing of outsiders had been ingrained in her, in all her people, she couldn’t help but be dazzled by all that she’d seen so far—the color, the liveliness. All these people who looked so vastly different from each other, all with their own purposes, going about their business. And they barely even noticed she existed.

She was just another person in an endless stream going from port to port. Not a single person had been unkind. In fact, several people had stopped to ask her if she needed help when she found herself in busy ports, unsure of how to proceed.

This confounded her. This was not what she’d been told about the outside, about outsiders.

That was unsettling.

Art was everywhere she looked. Most of it hawked some product or other, but she didn’t pay attention to that aspect. Nothing like it existed on Loveka. It would be considered crass, but… it was interesting. Most of it was beautiful. Composition, color choice, subject, art style—all of it captivated her. She reminded herself that it was all done for the sake of greed, but in the moment, she wasn’t completely convinced. There was just too much joy, too much innate beauty for that to be true.

That was during the journey. Here on the Juisuit it was a different matter entirely.

The corridors of the ship were dirty, every corner and crevice caked with a black glittery dust, and it reeked of industrial odors. She recognized it as a belastoise ship, a people she was familiar with because they came to Loveka to trade. They were one of the few people the Lovek could tolerate to trade with because their sentiments about outsiders mirrored their own. Their dealings were brief and efficient.

Had her brother made his fortune in mining connected to the belastoise? Then his fall from grace had not been as far as she’d imagined. Perhaps he was not yet beyond redemption. Maybe there was still a chance he could return to Loveka and live among the family again.

She revised that thought when a door slid open to a chamber and she saw him. She made no attempt to obscure her horror. She let out a wordless cry of anguish.

He was dead. Raub was dead.

Her dear Raubinshka, her only sibling, the one with whom she’d shared the womb.

She struggled internally not to feel pity. He was so far from the embrace of his people, his family, his clan. How could he have come to this end?

She forced herself to come near him and sank to her knees. The words of the sacred ritual spilled over her lips, a litany of devotion and respect as she slid her blade from its sheath on her thigh.

No matter how far away he’d gone, no matter what he’d done, he was dearest kin, the closest possible. To perform the ritual alone would be nightmarish, but she would not falter. He needed her now.

“Cease your antiquated prattle,” Raub barked.

She looked up, aghast. Speechless. No part of him was untouched. His handsome face was scarred. One of his eyes was bloodshot, swollen, and was not the shade of deep blue she remembered from her childhood. It was lighter, murky, covered in a hazy film. The other eye was covered with a piece of fabric held in place with a stretchy band. One ear was a misshapen shell that drooped as though it had melted. Patches of his long, fashionable mane were missing and in tatters. Clothing hid most of the rest. What state could his senses possibly be in? Surely, he was blinded in every way. Something had injured him so badly that regeneration had failed utterly, a fate unusual among those so young.

It marked him.

He was no longer truly alive. He was already somewhere between this plane of existence and the next.

The only thing left was the ritual to end his torture.

“I did not call you here to murder me,” he said, his single visible eye rolling in its orbit.

“What?”

“Get up.”

She stared at him.

“Get up!”

She stood.

“I’ll take that, lest you do something reckless.” He reached out and grabbed the blade out of her hands. She was so stupefied, she didn’t protest.

His touch was cold and a whirring sound caught in her ear. She took a step back. His natural arm and hand had been replaced with some mechanical facsimile.

A frisson ran down her spine. “You… are an abomination.”

“I am no such thing. I am a man. Alive. And I intend to stay that way.”

She gasped. “You have no right!”

“I have every right. Your outdated laws do not govern here. Keep a civil tongue in your head and remember your place.”

She started to turn, then remembered she had nowhere to go. He’d left the family without a credit. She couldn’t even buy a drink to slake her thirst, much less passage home.

He’d debased them all. They were doomed to live in ignominy if anyone on Loveka found out about this.

This was why he could not return to dispute his death or to speak to her.

She closed her eyes and reined in her senses. If this was her circumstance, she’d face it head on. “Why have you left us as paupers?”

He casually pushed aside a tablet computer lying on a nearby table, but his wary eye stayed on her. “To get your attention and ensure your obedience, of course.”

“What do you want?”

“I have a task for you to perform. I trust no one else to complete it. You should be honored.”

Her lip curled. “Dearest brother, I’m afraid you’ve forgotten how honor works.”

“Not at all. I have my own definition now.”

“Your ideology has been adulterated by outside contact.”

He shrugged. “Multiculturalism is not the demon our forebears thought, though I agree with you that most of the sentient species are far beneath us. Nonetheless, I am a free thinker and come to my own conclusions based on observation, rather like a scientist. I will not heedlessly bow to tradition without critical thought as you have done. Case in point: my brain still processes information; my heart still beats. Therefore, I am alive. In fact, my personal physician declares that my health is in a remarkable state. You will not convince me of the contrary. Do not even try.”

These last words dripped with threat. She knew this tone well. Despite her every effort, she cringed. There was not another soul in the universe who could make her feel fear like that. She was a Lady, the leader of their clan. She brushed her mane back off her face in an attempt to cover her reaction. “No need to worry. I can see you’re a lost cause.”

“Indeed. Nonetheless, I will restore your fortune once you’ve completed this task. Until that time, I’m sure the family can subsist on their hunting prowess and sales of their wares. After all, what kind of true Lovek needs wealth? They can forgo a few luxuries. A little asceticism should do them good.”

Hope blossomed. If she could complete this task quickly, no one ever need know about any of this. That could require lying, the prospect of which was like a dose of pure salt in her sensitive mouth, but she’d do it to save the family this burning shame. She eyed him through slitted eyes, still not trusting. “What is this task?”

“I wondered when you’d get to that. The nature of this assignment will be very familiar to you as a devout student of ancient lovekaan law. Vengeance.”

“Vengeance against whom?”

“Who do you think? The one who did this to me. All will be revealed in the fullness of time, dear sibling. For now, settle yourself. Nokk will show you to your quarters.” He waved a dismissal.

The door to the chamber slid open. The shaggy beast appeared. Raub pulled the tablet computer closer again and returned his attention to it.

“I don’t care to wait, dear brother. Tell me what I must do and I will go and do it now.”

“You will await my leisure,” he snarled. He turned to address the bear-man behind her, his voice sweetening by a few degrees. “And, Nokk? Hire someone to pluck our friend from Talus 3 without delay. A little bird tells me our plaything is getting too close. And rummage around in their accounts some more. I know how you enjoy that, and it does work wonders for keeping our toy out of our hair.”

She slid the dagger from her cuff silently, contemplating her options. It could be a test… or an opening to fulfill lovekaan law depending on how he reacted. It was her duty as head of household…

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled. He rose, plucking the dagger neatly from her grasp before she could adequately block him, and shoved her indelicately toward Nokk. Apparently, he retained his lightning-fast reflexes. “Let this nonsense go. Next time, I will not be so kind,” he whispered in her ear.

She held her head high and left the room.

Clearly, her brother was not completely blind.

She allowed herself to be led through the shabby corridors once again. Nokk opened a door for her. “I will bring your cases, Lady Falrau,” he said.

The room she was given was as tiny and filthy as she expected, reeking of belastoise body odor. It had clearly been inhabited by someone who did not appreciate the finer points of cleanliness or hygiene.

As Nokk turned to leave, he brushed by her. Her skin crawled. She was a Lady and he needed to remember that. She called after him, her voice full of umbrage. “Take care not to touch my person again, Nokk. Send cleaning supplies and someone capable of hard work along with my things.”

Nokk turned, an insolent expression on his grizzled face, and touched the door control to shut the portal between them.

Falrau checked the bathing area and found a couple of cleansing sponges. She could start with them, though they hardly seemed sturdy enough for proper work. She shrugged off her surcoat and rolled up her sleeves.

She had plenty to do before she could sleep or meditate comfortably in this space. It would be good for her to exorcise her frustrations on all the grime, and it would give her plenty of time to think about her narcissistic sibling and what this task might be that he expected her to perform.

Raub. Her long-lost brother. As children, they’d been inseparable, running wild over the moors together. How she missed those days of ease and comfort between them. A sibling was a precious thing. While relatives of her own age resided within the family walls in good numbers, and she never lacked for companionship, a sibling shared a totality of common past experience, a bond like no other. And for her, that bond had been severed, suddenly and with force, and the wound had never completely healed over.

Falrau scrubbed, allowing the dirt no mercy, panting with the heat the exercise generated. But she could not scrub away the memories that flooded to her mind as a result of seeing her brother again after these many decades of absence.

Something had changed around the time they’d ripened with puberty. They’d both been groomed for leadership of the Rau clan, but Raub had been extraordinarily talented, among the most accomplished of their generation. And he was beautiful. Given far too much leeway, narcissism and cruelty had grown inside him. He’d been pardoned, forgiven, ignored, and rewarded for his acuity, bravery, and flawless facade more than anyone deserved. No one seemed to see him fully, the faults alongside the attributes, as she did. Their mother, Lady Arau, had been too busy running the clan, and Kler, their father, was always away hunting. As a result, he was unchecked.

And Falrau had been invisible. Just a fraction less in every category. Raub had relished that. Lorded it over her. Though her own talent and beauty had nearly matched his, it had been bitterly galling to always be compared to him. She did not think this unusual among siblings, however. The closeness… the bond still remained despite all of this.

After their mother’s death, when Raub had taken on the leadership of the clan, there had been the untoward incidents. Scandals, really. His rivals had suddenly met with devastating accidents. He’d never been proven to be at fault, but people whispered. Everyone knew he was too clever for his own good. People gave him a wide berth for fear that they would anger him and suffer a coincidental mishap of their own.

Then he’d left, the role of seneschal had fallen to her in his absence, and they received little communication from him in the ensuing decades aside from the steady deposits in the clan’s banking accounts. She was cut off from him like a severed limb.

It was shameful. No one spoke of him at home any longer, though they’d never consider refusing the steady influx of credits he’d always supplied until now.

She was the one they looked to as their leader. She’d earned that. She was devoted to the welfare of the clan. The family flourished under her care. She’d finally been seen for her own merits, and she’d done a fine job of leading the family. The reminders of her inferiority had ceased.

And then there was this: it was her responsibility to enforce the rules of their people within the clan. But what did that mean here? When her dead brother broke their most sacred and ancient law so far from home?

Legally, he was already dead on Loveka and had been for years. Some nieblic woman had claimed his offworld property and offered up witness accounts as proof. When Raub did not come forward to dispute it, the courts granted her petition. Had she been lovek, she might have also claimed Falrau’s place as head of house. There’d been little explanation—and little needed—for a lost son of Loveka. Those who left their world were always second-class citizens.

But the money had not stopped flowing into the clan’s accounts, and Falrau knew the claim had been false. It did not affect her and Raub never came back to set things to rights.

She’d suspected the claim had met his needs in some way.

Sweat dripped down from a wisp of her mane onto the floor. She sat back on her heels and brushed her hair back with her forearm.

She had no power here. This place belonged to Raub.

Raub was a heretic, and the truth was that he could live as a dead man if he chose.

He’d embraced the outside and all its ways. He’d said that he’d done it, sacrificed, to save the family from financial ruin, but the saving had been done decades before and he’d never returned. Obviously, he’d continued to live as an outsider, embracing the depravity.

And now he’d just restored them to that state of ruin.

She bowed her head and stared at the dirty, wet smears on the floor before her.

If she’d made any mistakes as the Lady of the Rau clan, it was in believing that the money would always be there. It had made her soft. With their padded bank vaults, she’d had the luxury to sneer at lovekaans who hawked their wares. What had that haughtiness gained her?

It had brought her to this place, powerless, once again in Raub’s shadow, with the entire clan’s reputation and future solvency at risk.

And she was positioned directly beneath his claw.

6

Adam jumped as the door slid open.

It felt like everything he’d always wanted. But he was also terrified. He stepped back until his legs slammed into the bed. He almost fell over.

There was a bear, standing on its hind legs. And a pink gnome with fuchsia pigtails.

His breathing was labored. He felt lightheaded.

The bear said, “What’s your name, son?” It was practically yelling. It said it in that weird language that came out of Adam’s mouth sometimes. But he understood it. He actually understood.

He didn’t know what to do. What was happening to him?

Adam turned away, moving over to the toilet to put more space between them. If he didn’t look, maybe they’d disappear or go away.

He couldn’t get enough air.

“Jeepers,” said a high-pitched voice. The gnome? “How long has this guy been in here alone? He’s boiled down to a lump. Flippin’ slags.”

Adam darted a look over his shoulder to confirm that it was indeed the gnome speaking. Yes, it sure was. He pressed his forehead against the wall. It felt cool and soothing.

“We ain’t got time to coddle this fellow,” the bear muttered. “Look, we just need to confirm your name and we can get you out of here, mate.”

Adam pressed his lips together. His mouth felt dry as sandpaper.

“Lemme see here,” the gnome said. “Oh, I don’t even begin to know how to pronounce this. Ai-dum? Ay-dim? Ah-dem? Bun-all-ee? Did I come close? Sheesh, these records are crapola, Berv. Surely, they can do better than this.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat.

“Adam Benally,” he whispered. It came out right. It came out right. It came out right. He quivered a little and pressed himself harder into the wall.

“What’s that? Did you say something over there, fella?”

“Adam Benally,” he rasped, a little louder.

“Okay, I heard that,” the gnome said brightly. “Confirmed. We’ve got the right guy. You just sit tight for a bit while we do some paperwork, then we’ll be back for ya. We’ll get you out of here and be on our way.”

“Out?” Adam turned, but they were already gone and the door was closing. He flung himself at the door, but it was too late. It had closed and they were gone. He pressed an eye to the wall where they’d just been standing but it was black, just a ghostly reflection. He couldn’t see them walking away.

He paced for what felt like hours, filled with a feverish energy he hadn’t known for ages. Then it drained away abruptly and he lay down on the bed. They hadn’t come back. It had been a waking dream, a hallucination, something. He fell asleep with tears on his face.

He woke to the sound of the squeaky gnome’s voice. “Wake up. We’re ready to roll. My partner Berv’s getting the transport ready.”

Adam sat up. The gnome stood there with a pleasant look on her face. What harm could there be in going with her? What could be worse than staying here? If it was a hallucination, he’d know soon enough. He didn’t really give it much thought.

He stood, swaying.

She nodded and turned.

He followed. He crossed the threshold of his cell. She led him through a maze of cells just like his. The lights were all dim, but he could see outlines of people and things inside them. A few were moving. Most were not. It was like watching a movie. Surreal. It seemed like he was gliding. He didn’t feel like himself at all. He was someone else watching this happen.

They reached a door. The gnome had a device out, and she tapped it to a block on the wall next to the door. It opened. They kept going down a long hallway.

Another door. She tapped her device again. Then she waved at a silhouette behind dark glass and called out, “So long, Churk!”

The door opened onto a humongous room. It had the feeling of a parking garage. It was mostly empty except for a vehicle that was parked very close to the door. All that space made him feel very strange. He looked back at the hallway and started to turn around.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” the gnome said sweetly. “Just get in the ship and everything will be okay.” She snagged his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. She was stronger than he was.

He resisted a little.

She pulled.

He shuffled in her wake, trying unsuccessfully to get back to the hallway. He fell once and she helped him up. Eventually, she got him to the open door of the vehicle.

“I don’t know,” Adam said, the words coming out in that way that made him cringe.

“You’ll be fine,” she huffed once, and shoved him inside. He stumbled up the steps and into the craft. It was padded and plush. He saw a seat in a corner and headed straight for it, curling up a bit.

He heard the bear’s voice from somewhere else in the ship. “Did ya have to trank him? His records say he’s been tranked every time he was moved.” The bear appeared suddenly. “Zeb! You didn’t even cuff him? Come on!”

“Pishposh. He’s a gentleman. Let’s go,” the gnome said.

“Fine. You deal with him, then. We’ve got clearance.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The gnome was opening cabinets, pulling out things, and putting them inside a large mesh bag. She deposited that on the seat next to him. She whispered, “Look. I ain’t got the mom gene. I won’t know when you need stuff. You’ll have to tell me if you do, okay? You’re skinny as a pibnub, though. You gotta be hungry. This is the best stuff we got. Don’t tell Berv I gave it to you, okay? Just put the wrappers in here.” She pointed at a hole in the wall. “I’ll tell Berv I ate ’em.”

She fastened the mesh bag to the seat. “My name’s Zeb. Berv and I are couriers. We’re gonna get you away from Talas 3 in a trice. You’ll never have to go back there.” She hesitated. “I’ll be up front. A door will close between us. You need to buckle the safety belt because we’ll be moving soon. Don’t want you floating away.” She gestured at a gray button. “Press this if you need me, and I’ll hear you talking.”

He fumbled with the belt. It was an odd configuration. Finally, he figured out how to latch it.

She looked at him doubtfully. Then she sat down on the seat next to the stuff. “You okay? You sick?”

He nodded once, slightly.

“Which one? Okay or sick?”

“Okay,” he croaked. He hadn’t used his voice in so long, it hurt to talk.

The ship moved and his stomach sank down into the seat. He grabbed the vinyl in a panic.

Zeb glanced toward the front but otherwise seemed unfazed.

“Yeah, okay. I get the strangest feeling that you’re not used to all this stuff. Maybe I better run it down for you.” She reached her hand inside the mesh bag and separated the heap of stuff into separate piles. “These are body wipes, for when you can’t get a sonic or water shower. You can wash with them. This is food—remember not to tell Berv about that. These are water pouches. There’s some clothes that should fit you in this bundle.” She looked around, then pointed in the other corner that had a single demi-wall blocking it from view. “And that’s the toilet.” Her mouth twitched like she wanted to ask if he knew how to use it, but she didn’t.

He nodded again.

“Call me if you need me.”

She disappeared into the front of the vehicle and a wall came down between them. This space wasn’t any bigger than his cell, and somehow that was okay. He sat there for a while, absorbing this abrupt change in his circumstance.

They were moving. He could tell. But the movement was smooth now. He felt like he was really light. Maybe even floating a little. After everything that had happened, that hardly even seemed strange.

He reached into the mesh bag for one of the body wipes and tore the packaging open. Meticulously, he cleaned his hands, scrubbing every knuckle and scraping under every nail. Then he reached for another and wiped his face, scrubbed his beard and mustache, then his hands again, and a little bit of each arm. The wipes turned gray. He had to put each one into the trash hole, because if he set it down, it tried to float away.

He opened the bundle of clothes and sorted through them until he found a set that he thought would fit, then stuffed the rest back into the net bag. They looked like nurse’s scrubs, but they were clean. He unclipped the safety belt carefully but left it hooked over his shoulders and took off his shirt. It was awkward, but he was reluctant to completely remove the safety belt. He kept scrubbing. He continued this way until the wipes ran out. He wanted to do more, but that was all Zeb had given him. Maybe she’d let him have more later.

He gulped down a huge pouch of water.

The food was weird, but it tasted way better than anything he’d had in a long, long time. He ate every morsel and fastidiously cleaned up just as Zeb had asked.

He relaxed a little bit and concentrated on the weightless feeling. It was weird and a little scary, but it was good to feel something. Nausea rose up from time to time, but it passed. Gradually, he grew drowsy and fell asleep.

He didn’t know where they were taking him.

Maybe, hopefully, to Darcy.

7

Hain hovered over her microscope, assessing her most recent hymenoptera tissue culture experiments from cell lines she’d obtained from the crew. The early results were revealing useful information about the short-lived species. First, that they were all haploid, meaning they contained only one set of chromosomes. This was unheard-of among sentient species.

Not surprisingly, these hymenoptera also possessed abnormally short telomeres on the tips of their single chromosomes, of the length typically seen only among longer-lived species in old age. These abbreviated telomeres led to premature failure of chromosomal replication, cell senescence, and catastrophic cell death—resulting in the proliferation of cancers and organ failure in individuals who would otherwise be considered children had they been born as another species.

Darcy had been dismayed to learn about the relative shortness of the hymenoptera lifespan. She’d asked Hain to look into methods of extending it. It was a noble goal and Hain had immediately put considerable efforts into study and experiment. It was pleasurable to pursue pure science with the objective of doing something beneficial. She had not had that option for some time.

Hain herself had been confounded when, upon leaving her homeworld, she’d discovered how short most sentients’ lifespans actually were. On Ginnea, there had been little to no death. One gave up the mobile life phase when one was ready, set down roots, and joined the Mother in eternal song. Hain’s innate inquisitiveness had led her to resist that life-stage transition, and when an opportunity had presented itself, she’d left to explore the universe.

She’d been sheltered on Ginnea, naive, with no idea of the true nature of the universe. The rest of the galaxy was very different from her home.

All too soon, she’d been snared by Raub. And then she had learned.

He’d punished her for stealing his ship and allowing his crew to die horribly on her homeworld, despite the fact that they’d been committing atrocities against her own people. He’d indentured her under the threat that he would destroy her people and then profit from the sale of the resultant wood.

She’d had no recourse. To attempt escape would mean that everyone and everything she’d ever known would be destroyed. She couldn’t let that happen. So, she’d obeyed him and her life had taken a dark turn she never could have anticipated.

By necessity, she had become hard, calculating, dispassionate to survive. Raub made her do things to other living beings that initially she had found unacceptable but eventually performed blindly without introspection. She’d become inured to the suffering of others, had done monstrous things at his command.

He had exploited her.

This project forced her to see the Hymenoptera in a new light. Previously, she had viewed the insectoid species as purely utilitarian commodities. Managing them was a duty. She’d never given their well-being or their paucity of longevity much thought, beyond annoyance that she had to tend to new offspring so frequently—or purchase a cadre of subadults if some virus or mishap killed off so many of the workers that she couldn’t wait for a new generation to hatch. Now, though, she fully realized her error.

Through the course of this research, she’d postulated a theory. She had little evidence to prove it, should any governing body choose to pursue the matter, but she suspected that the hymenoptera telomeres had been shortened intentionally. Hymenoptera eggs and pubescent males were sold as easy, cheap labor. They matured to adulthood fast and were quick to learn their duties. Making their lifespans short meant that eggs or subadults would have to be purchased again and again, since only males were sold.

It had only reinforced her personal view that the universe was inhabited primarily by greedy, soulless individuals and was nothing like her own culture. And that must be the reason why her people had stopped trading and traveling to the stars to focus on the afterlife eons before.

Darcy had been the first individual Hain had met who challenged this opinion. Darcy’s unwavering focus on alleviating the suffering of innocents as she searched for her own people ran counter to every experience Hain had had since leaving her homeworld.

The protection of one’s own people, Hain understood. The security of her world had kept her tied to Raub when she’d longed to escape his control. But the desire to assist unrelated individuals demonstrated generosity and selflessness. Darcy put herself in harm’s way to accomplish her goals. That gave Hain pause.

Hain was now in a state of moral flux. Her previous judgements about mammals as a category of people required revision. Perhaps her conclusions had been based on incomplete data. It was entirely possible that she still might find a place in the galaxy where she felt safe and comfortable.

Perhaps she already had.

She was wiser now. And determined to remake herself anew. She had a second chance. Darcy had made that possible. She could never repay her for that. But she would try.

So, Hain would do everything she could to extend the hymenoptera lifespan.

Finding a solution to the shortened telomeres would be difficult, but possible, for a new generation grown from eggs. If they could find a female egg to reconfigure, selective breeding would then keep the long-telomere trait alive because the males were capable of reproduction. Perhaps they could found a colony for these people to begin a true independent life and contribute to the furthering of their species.

But Hain knew that wasn’t all Darcy was asking for. She’d developed a fondness for one hymenoptera in particular: Tesserae71.

Keeping an adult alive was a different matter and far more difficult. The regen gel that Darcy had used on him after he was wounded by laser fire had been a temporary bridge to extend his life, but that wouldn’t last forever. The nanites in the gel had expired and would be rendered useless soon. His health was already beginning to degenerate.

To artificially extend his telomeres would require somatic-cell nuclear transfer and many, many eggs to create stem cells. She would remove the stem cells’ nuclei and replace them with cells containing Tesserae71’s cloned DNA recombined with longer telomeres. Then she would infuse his tissues with these new cells and monitor him closely. Obtaining hymenoptera eggs would be the easiest part. But the remaining techniques were time-consuming, costly, required specialized equipment and considerable skill. The project would likely be more complex due to the Hymenoptera’s haploid genetic state.

But she believed she should be able to trick Tesserae71’s body into cloning itself with longer telomeres using stem cells. Only the richest of the rich could afford procedures like this, and there were rumors of elite individuals living many times their original lifespan. Thankfully, Darcy’s mission meant that money was no object. Stealing slavers’ credits on a regular basis made procuring any materials they needed quite easy, though they’d been having some difficulties of late with hackers getting into their accounts.

This kind of therapy, though not precisely legal depending upon location, should solve the problem directly. She had the skills needed to perform the work, as well as most of the equipment and materials. The primary cost would be her own time, energy, and devotion. A small price to pay to encourage Darcy’s trust in her to grow.

The door to Hain’s lab opened. Hain glanced up from her work to see it was Darcy. She tapped the side of her neck to trigger her artificial voice box. “How did it go?”

Darcy hopped up to sit on the lab bench in a clear spot nearby. She picked up a petri dish and examined it before setting it back down carefully. “Just another day in the neighborhood. I did get a good lead, though.”

Hain leaned in to look at the next sample and kept her thoughts to herself. Long ago, she’d asked Darcy how long she would keep chasing these ghosts, and the question had distressed the girl. Darcy had said she’d keep looking for Adam until she found him, no matter how long it took. At the time, Hain hadn’t truly believed that. She’d assumed that Darcy would eventually tire of this life and decide to return to Earth or to settle down elsewhere. As standard years went by, however, Hain revised her original assumptions.

Darcy was tenacious. She would not doubt her again.

At times, Hain feared this search would become a lifelong quest. Hain had been the one to sell the humans, but retracing their steps and obtaining the data files from those merchants had not been tremendously helpful. Slaves changed hands frequently, and the slavers didn’t generally require contact information from their buyers. These sorts of dealings were done in convoluted ways because buyers didn’t want to be found by law enforcement if a slaver were brought to justice. There were many layers of obfuscation.

Unfortunately, all of those original leads had led to dead ends. And now Darcy was forced to stalk individual slavers in order to pry information from them. The slave industry was vast, with fugitive slavers operating in small pockets on the fringes of society throughout the galaxy. They were secretive and solitary by necessity.

Darcy had not found a single human yet. Only luck would lay Adam at Darcy’s feet. But the cause was noble and she would not torment her new friend by bringing up the topic again.

Hain’s life had changed in many ways since Darcy had assumed control of the Vermachten. The ship was lively now, full of freely roaming people who were dedicated to Darcy’s cause. Some of those people had once been Hain’s captives, and at first, Hain had feared for her safety, but Darcy made it clear that she was giving Hain a chance to prove herself, and they left her alone. She was still cautious, but Darcy’s word was so well-respected that no one seemed inclined to cross her.

In other ways, her life was still very much the same. She had her lab and her work, though her work’s purpose was different now. The ship still moved from port to port frequently; they met with the same kind of people. But now they were helping the people that once they had hurt.

It was by no means a penance. It was a redemption. She would stay with Darcy as long as the young woman wanted her there.

“Making any headway?” Darcy asked.

One thing Hain liked about spending time with Darcy was that Darcy was well educated in genetics and if she didn’t know something, she was eager to learn it. Hain could freely speak with the girl about her research, an opportunity she’d never had before. “I’ve been exploring two primary options in tissue culture. First, strengthening the chromosomal cap comprised of shelterin proteins. The results are mixed, but I am refining the protocol. Unfortunately, success in tissue culture does not necessarily translate in vivo. If the treatment does work, it may double a hymenoptera’s lifespan.”

Darcy frowned. “That’s still too short.”

Hain looked up from the scope. “It would be a short-term therapy to buy more time and it may uncover pertinent information that could be useful.”

The young woman nodded.

“Alternately, I’ve been working on a plasmid that enhances the operation of telomerase reverse transcriptase to encourage lengthening of telomeres. However, I’ve found that if the cell line is already reaching senescence, this only aids the proliferation of cancer cells. Telomeric dysregulation is a huge risk with this therapeutic option. I do not think it is a viable solution to the problem. This avenue is rarely utilized among longevity experts among the sentient races for this reason.”

Darcy said, “On Earth, there was research into inhibiting telomerase activity as a cancer treatment.”

Hain lowered her head to the ocular piece again. “In some species, that treatment is still used.”

“So, that leaves the stem cell option as the most likely answer.”

“Yes.”

Darcy sighed. “I was really hoping you’d find another way.”

Hain glanced at Darcy over the top of the scope. “Why is this?”

Darcy hesitated. She seemed more unsure of herself than usual. “On Earth, use of stem cells in this way is illegal. A fertilized egg is considered… by some… to be a life. Harvesting cells from it destroys that life.”

Hain straightened. “It is a potential life, not fully formed.”

Darcy said, “I know, I know. And a high percentage of early pregnancies never make it past a week or two, due to fatal transcription errors. Fertilized eggs are often lost before a woman even knows she’s pregnant. I know all the arguments. I’d just prefer to do no harm.”

“Your culture has a very strong sense of morality.”

Darcy grimaced. “We do and we don’t. It’s… fraught.”

Hain considered. This project grew more complex by the day. She had faith in her own skills, however. “I could utilize another technique. It would add extra steps, extra complexity, but it’s certainly possible. I can harvest somatic cells from Tesserae71, for example, and stress them to create a stem cell line.”

“Oh. Why wouldn’t you just do that anyway?”

“It’s more difficult. This type of stem cell line sometimes reverts or does not behave as intended. It requires more restrictive parameters for growth. It’s a more exacting technique. Far more difficult to work with. It will likely take longer to produce the desired results.”

Darcy stared at the culture plates on the bench for a few moments. “I don’t want to make this harder for you… I do want it to work… And Tesserae71 needs this treatment as soon as possible.”

“But this technique would be more comfortable for you?”

“Yes.”

Hain pushed back a frond that had fallen forward over her face, and placed another sample on the scope’s platform. “Then that is what we shall do.”

Darcy’s eyes unfocused and darted back and forth as she stared off into space. “There’s something else we could do that could help, I think. Somewhere that may have a repository of information about hymenoptera DNA.”

“And what is that?”

“Well,” Darcy said, her eyes roving back and forth as she thought, “I think it’s time we shut down the hymenoptera factory where Tesserae71 was born.”

8

There weren’t many people who knew Darcy’s secret, that she had the powers of the drudii coded into her genes, allowing her to manipulate electromagnetism in its many forms. Hain, Selpis, and Nembrotha knew. Everyone else thought she was secretive because she was human.

And because of Raub. And the slavers she hunted.

But Yunto also knew her secret.

She’d hired the sebapenese to continue her hand-to-hand combat training—for herself and anyone in the fleet who wanted to learn, which turned out to be nearly everyone. None of them wanted to be a victim ever again.

Darcy had met Yunto in a dojo on an impoverished colony world shortly after she’d taken over the Vermachten. She’d stopped in, hoping to sign up to learn some new techniques while they were laid over for some ship maintenance. He’d been teaching a free self-defense class for local children at the time. She liked the way he taught. He kept things simple, used a lot of praise, but also stressed the importance of proper form and didn’t hesitate to gently correct. It was obvious that the kids adored him, and most of them were amazingly accomplished.

They’d struck up a conversation. He taught this free class as often as possible, while teaching his form of martial arts to the rich factory-farmer’s kids to pay the bills, but he was thinking of moving on because his rent had just tripled. He’d said that more than a few of his students were capable of becoming teachers now.

She’d liked him instantly. He had a way of quietly, but actively listening, and then dropping a bomb of advice that really made her think. She hadn’t hesitated to offer him a job. Luckily, her offer had intrigued him.

Yunto was short and burly, with a heavy brow and jaw, yet he moved with the grace of a dancer. He taught group classes, rotating through the ships on the fleet, but also taught Darcy privately.

She’d learned a lot from him, and not just about martial arts. Every session seemed to end with a kind of talk therapy. That hadn’t been intentional. It just happened that way. He helped her put her problems into a perspective that she wasn’t able to accomplish on her own.

Over time, she’d grown to trust him. And finally, she’d told him her secret.

He hadn’t been perturbed. He’d looked thoughtful. “This is a powerful tool. It must be explored with care and mastered,” he’d said gravely.

So, she’d shown him the things she could do. And even though her power had nothing to do with the things he traditionally taught, he found ways to apply his skill set to this new purview.

Initially, he stressed discipline, practice, and introspection. He made her realize that her handling of her powers was clunky and reckless.

The only time he’d ever shown anything but gentle kindness was after she’d told him about how she’d killed Raub. It wasn’t the fact that she’d killed him that bothered him—it was the fact that she’d nearly killed herself in the process of channeling a lightning strike. He’d gotten downright grumpy and said she’d lost all self-restraint in that moment, that she had to train herself so that nothing like that would ever happen again.

He urged her to practice infinitesimal control, saying things like “Don’t think big. Think small.”

He brought a challenge to every practice session. Once, he set a temperature meter in front of her, handed her a probe, and told her to heat the probe to a precise temperature and to maintain that with no variation for as long as possible. Another time, he brought a light meter, asking her to maintain a constant lux value. On another occasion, he brought a rivet, a strong magnet, and a ruler, and then told her she should hold the rivet a certain spacing above the magnet.

One day, he arrived with a selection of small, outdated but functional electronics and then placed them inside a closed box and told her to destroy them one by one, each time testing them all to be sure she’d fried the correct component with a small electromagnetic surge.

Eventually, he increased the difficulty, setting up targets for her to fling ferromagnetic objects at, urging her to practice blinding flashes and strobes in cones that would affect only a single opponent, creating EM fields that disrupted electronics and transmissions in small zones. He was creative and thorough, and taught her to think about her gifts in ways she’d never considered.

Over time, she learned restraint and control. She could do things like activate a door control without touching it. She could tell who had entered a room, without turning to look, by memorizing the feeling of their brain’s electromagnetic signature.

They trained in this way daily. Starting by learning new ways to kick, punch, block, and evade. And when she was physically tired, he made her practice the use of her power. They concluded their daily sessions by talking about how things had gone and then meditating for a time before he left her to attend his other classes.

One day, he said it was time to practice disrupting and manipulating artificial gravity. This was the one element of the purported drudii skill set she wasn’t certain she possessed. She’d experimented with it before and hadn’t been able to produce any discernible effects. She said as much to Yunto.

“That was then. This is now,” he replied. “Begin with meditation. Once the mind is calm, seek out the sources of the artificial gravity within this room. Assess them, feel how they work, then change them gradually.”

He seemed so certain that she could do it.

She settled in and pushed past the drowsiness that always assailed her when she attempted meditation. She relaxed into the now-familiar state. Her thoughts slowed. She felt peaceful and began to explore the gravity-field generators built into the flooring of her rooms, something she’d never done before. Electronics were all around her, all the time, a cacophonous drone of confusing potential input—if she paid attention, which she rarely did.

There were many more than she expected, surprisingly tiny devices, arranged in a grid under the flooring. Now she could see that they weren’t so very different from the electromagnetic fields she was capable of generating herself. She could almost see the fields they produced. In her mind’s eye, they were like overlapping vertical bubbles of gravity, all going in one direction, and churning with sparkling matter. She had no idea what the physics was behind the devices, but she did know that they could be set by degrees to mimic the gravity on a variety of planets.

Next, she sought to reconfigure small groups of them, resetting those around her to a stronger setting. Her mouth opened in a startled gasp as she felt her bones draw down sharply toward the floor, all her blood rushing to her butt. Simultaneously, she realized she was subconsciously trying to pull current through the flooring. Static was building up as a few electrons made it through the relatively nonconductive materials. The hair on her arms stood on end. She struggled to keep her focus and release the setting. Her body returned to its more normal, lighter, less-ponderous state.

“I did it,” she breathed.

Yunto nodded slowly, watching her with his wise eyes. “Again.”

She grasped at more of them—most of the room—and this time gradually dialed down the gravity bubbles to zero without allowing herself to tug on the current. She felt herself lighten by tiny increments until she opened her eyes to see Yunto floating across from her, still folded in a compact seated position, expressionless and calm. She smiled. It felt like magic.

“Good,” he said. He didn’t seem as impressed. “Now extend the field from the deck above us. Down.”

She screwed up her face in concentration, keeping the gravity below them neutralized and reaching up to the deck above. She felt around, trying to change the settings again. The correct signal to send eluded her. “I don’t think they can work in more than one direction,” she said.

“Then move the gravity itself.”

These fields didn’t feel like EM fields. They had a different quality. Every type of electromagnetic field seemed to her to have a color associated with it, which was a form of synesthesia, she assumed, and she’d learned how to manipulate nearly every type over time. But the gravity fields felt more like a cascading fountain of shimmering fireworks. They seemed more volatile, more difficult to understand or grasp.

She twisted her body as she strove to twist the fields and point them down. She grappled with them until a sudden insight flitted through her mind and the correct mental gesture manifested. She couldn’t even describe it. It just worked.

She and Yunto thudded into the ceiling.

Along with everything else in the room that wasn’t secured.

She flailed against the impact, lost all control, and they both fell back to the floor, sprawling.

Yunto gathered himself up and stood, a hint of a pained smile on his face. “I think that will be all for today.”

She sat up, panting, and shoved her hair out of her face.

Yunto turned as he reached the door. He surveyed the room. It had been messy before. Now it was a disaster. Spilled perk, in both liquid and powder forms. Clothes. Devices. Utensils and dishes, with and without food, were everywhere.

“A good beginning. Next time, better control,” he said, and left.

9

Adam woke in a cold sweat.

The strong bands that tightly restrained his arms, legs, and torso were still in place. He no longer had the energy to buck against them, but if he had, they’d only cut deeper into his bruised and abraded skin.

Something covered his eyes, which were twin orbs of searing pain that radiated in waves through his head and down his spine. Likewise, one shoulder and one leg throbbed with a dull ache.

How long he’d been like this, he didn’t know. What they’d done to him, he wasn’t certain. Who they were, was unknown.

He seemed to bob in and out of wakefulness for indeterminate amounts of time punctuated only by needles pricking his arms or legs, which thankfully led to the relief of unconsciousness.

The contents of his stomach rose suddenly in his throat. He couldn’t stop it. He turned his head to retch, his gorge exploding out of him while his body convulsed. His head lolled to the other side as he shuddered and shook from cold, making the bed rattle. He breathed shallowly, drooling from the drugs and the vomit, and tried vainly to make his body be still because the movement made the pain so much worse.

Someone wiped him off brusquely with a cold wet cloth. He heard someone shuffling, things clattering around, moving on squeaky wheels. Pungent cleaning solutions stung his nose.

“God, what are you doing to me?” he whispered hoarsely in that bizarre tongue he couldn’t get used to. His throat was raw. He’d been screaming while they worked on him. He’d woken… during.

No one answered.

They were killing him slowly, he was sure of it. Punishing him for some crime he didn’t remember committing. He’d thought the small cell had been hell, but that had been paradise compared to this. He desperately wanted to go back there.

Home. Darcy. Their life. Seemed so long ago now. Another lifetime.

How did he get there? How had this happened? He couldn’t remember anything more than a tiny sweet girl with pink hair. Floating. And then agony.

“Shall I administer a sedative?” someone asked.

“Not yet,” said another voice, all in that crazy language that was now a part of him.

More shuffling, wiping, wheels squeaking as things were moved around inside the room around him. Doors opening and closing. Silence. He wished for sleep. Maybe he did pass out for a while.

A gentle voice. A warm hand on his chest. “Adam? I can’t stay long. I’d like to help you.”

He felt confused. No one had spoken to him before. Not since the little girl with pink pigtails. “Help me?” he croaked.

“What do you need, Adam?”

Adam strained against the confining bands with a sudden surge of energy. “Get these off me. Let me go.” Then he collapsed back, completely enervated.

“I wish I could. They’re doing the same things to me, if that helps. You aren’t alone.”

Adam tried to make sense of that. But nothing made sense anymore. “Why?” he asked. His question hung in the air, unanswered.

The voice continued as if he hadn’t spoken, in calm even tones. “I overheard them. They’re inexperienced with your physiology. That’s making it harder.”

Adam’s brow tried to furrow, and for a split second, his eye sockets pounded with so much white-hot pain that his heart beat erratically and he almost lost consciousness.

“How can I help you?” the voice insisted. “Are your lips supposed to be blue?”

His mouth was so dry. He was so thirsty. What a strange question to ask. He stuttered as he shivered violently. “N-n-n-no. Pink or red, I guess.”

“You don’t look well. How can I make you more comfortable?”

“S-s-s-so cold.”

“Ah, that I can help with.”

The owner of the voice moved around the room. Adam felt a pre-warmed heavy blanket settling on top of his body. Someone smoothed the blanket down and tucked it around his sides where there were gaps in the belts, cocooning him up to his chin. The warmth sank into him and the weight felt soothing. The chills didn’t subside right away, but he felt better immediately.

His visitor seemed to have wandered away.

Voices spoke. Were they in the next room? They seemed a little muffled. He couldn’t separate one from another. He heard someone say, “The subject’s physiology most closely resembles nieblic.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.”

“The subject is experiencing tachypnea—rapid shallow breathing—and, as a result, cyanosis from decreased oxygen saturation. He is in the early stages of shock. This can be fatal for anthropoids if it goes on too long. Blood volume is good, but measures must be taken soon to prevent his blood pressure from dropping.”

Silence. Tapping.

“And the tests? How is the subject responding?”

“The subject’s healing is markedly slower and shows no sign of cellular regeneration, but his immune system is not rejecting the pilot implants. It is a reasonable way to assess their use in an analogous species. I think you’ll agree that the first experiments were an unequivocal success.”

“As I suspected. Your recommendation? To keep the subject mentally receptive, but also on schedule for the trials? I do not wish to delay.”

“Give him something short-acting for the pain as a reward for each interaction. A psychoactive sedative between sessions will make the mind vulnerable to suggestion. Keep him warm and well hydrated for now. The next implant will be complete in a matter of a few standard days. He should be strong enough for another surgery by then.”

“This sounds reasonable.”

Was one of the voices coming from the visitor that had just been speaking to him? He wasn’t sure. It sounded so much more sure, deeper, colder.

Someone lifted the blankets and was touching his leg. Sliding, feeling for something. His leg twitched. He wanted to move away, but of course he couldn’t. He could only observe things being done to him with the senses he had. He felt a sharp pinch. Cool, burning liquid traveling under his skin.

Then oblivion took him.

10

Falrau completed her morning exercise, ablutions, and meditation. She partook of the small meal she’d scavenged the day prior, surveying the room with satisfaction. After two full days of scrubbing alongside the lazy oaf Nokk, it was finally clean and fully sanitized. A few stains remained ingrained in the floor’s surface despite her best efforts, but she’d arranged the room’s furniture so she’d no longer have to look at them.

Nokk had grudgingly delivered a small desk and chair, which she’d anchored to wall and floor using the built-in attachment apparatus, and now she removed her supplies from their sturdy leather pouch and laid them out neatly on its surface: burnishing tool, knives, awl, needles, edge beveler, chisels, groover, puncher, and a rubber mallet.

She set up the compact stitching horse, which would hold the leather so that her hands would be free to work. Finally, she opened the satchel containing the vestments she’d been working on for the last year. Out came the small cones of fine thread, spun by her own hand from the shimmering fur of the garbok, a vicious, shaggy pack creature used to transport supplies on Loveka, dyed in dark natural tones. Then she lifted out the partially assembled garment, running her hands over the softly textured surface. It was the finest robe she’d ever worked. Her skill had increased dramatically over the last decade, and she’d earned her people’s esteem as one of the finest leatherworkers on Loveka. This was a commissioned piece and near completion. It would bring a fine sum and was the only thing she owned of any significant worth.

She admired her fine stitching. The item was quite beautiful and represented hundreds of hours of work. She’d hunted the noisome parvlings herself, skinned the small animals, and turned the meat and bones over to other family members for making food, glue, and tiny carved items.

She had put the skins through many processes, both chemical and mechanical—dehairing, scraping, splitting, soaking in various baths to soften them, removing the fat, and opening the grain, and eventually dying them a dark gray. The result of her labors was as light and supple as the finest fabric. The many small pieces were cut precisely to fit its future owner, embroidered in intricate patterns, and joined into the three-dimensional shape of the robe with as little waste as possible. Then the joins were stitched over to disguise them and to match up the patterns so the final product appeared to be seamless.

This item’s sale could keep the family going for some time. It was an option she considered now.

Not having to worry about money had allowed her to experiment, growing her skills, unleashing a creativity that want alone would not have allowed. If Raub had not supplied the family so well for so long, she’d not have had the opportunity to expand her repertoire of techniques, learn at the knee of old masters, attempt ideas that no one had tried before. He’d given her a luxury during those years.

She realized she was squeezing the elegant leather between her fingers and relaxed her grip. She shook out the two pieces she planned to join and sat, placing them within the clamp of the stitching horse.

And now she considered repaying that generosity by forsaking him.

She took a meal with him each day, and he still had not revealed what he expected her to do to fulfill his desire for vengeance. The time of tribal feuds was long past. Even on Loveka, it would take a very traditionally minded magistrate to allow one to walk away from a plea of vengeance.

And out here among the stars, he most likely meant her to exact his vendetta out upon an outsider, not a lovekaan. She knew little of the galaxy outside her sphere, but she did know for certain that was problematic. Their own laws did not apply to others. No matter his grievance, she knew that local regulations wouldn’t support his terms of justice. They would expect him to report his complaint and let the wheels of justice turn. She could be caught and punished by any local constable if she wasn’t careful.

She took up the fine thread and threaded it with needles at both ends.

Then she would be the one who was disgraced.

In his place.

Is this what he hoped would happen? Was this his way of neatly removing her as family head without strife so that he could return home and assume her duties?

But surely, he knew they’d never accept him. Just one look at him by any member of their society would make him subject to the final ritual immediately.

He was clearly not in his right mind. Perhaps he was delusional enough to believe that wouldn’t happen.

She owed him respect, duty, obedience as the firstborn of Arau.

But he had broken their sacred doctrine.

And yet… he was the brother that she’d wandered the moors with, exploring, hunting, basking in the sun, grooming each other, and talking endlessly. The one who’d carried her to safety after she’d broken a leg chasing a yerglin through a rocky ravine and was gored. The one who’d cuddled her close in the dark when she’d been frightened by night sounds. The one who’d smoothed her hair and comforted her when their mother had passed.

If only she could have that back.

But he was dead.

Was he?

If she shut her eyes and listened only to his voice, breathed in his scent, felt the touch of his natural limbs, he was not dead. She could pretend that there was still a chance they could have that closeness again.

Could their ancient laws be wrong? What if Raub was not a blasphemer but an enlightened one who had learned something of value by leaving their world?

Such thoughts were not allowed.

She was grasping. Pathetic. Wishes were weaknesses. She could barely acknowledge them in her mind—and never, ever say them aloud. It was her job to punish those who were so fanciful and introduced dangerous elements into their culture.

And yet… this was her Raubinshka.

She looked down at the precious tools contoured by the hands of her ancestors. She could sell some of them to buy passage home. It might be enough.

That would also be a betrayal.

She was reduced to this.

Hours passed as she stitched, her mind at war with itself over what she should do. The leather could not make up her mind for her.

The whirring of the air circulation system ceased as it switched between cycles. In that brief moment she heard someone scream in agony. She looked up from her work, brow furrowed, and turned her head automatically to triangulate the direction the sound was coming from. The air system resumed its low-pitched continuous noise, disguising the sound, but now that she’d heard it cleanly, she could still detect it faintly.

She set her needles aside and stood. She opened her small chest, removed the medicine pack, and strode for the door.

Falrau navigated the empty corridors with purpose, choosing turns based on her first sense of where the sound had originated. As she grew closer, the tormented sounds, though muffled, grew louder.

She found the correct door and triggered the opening mechanism. A filthy sign outside the door indicated this was the ship’s infirmary. The portal did not open. It was locked from the inside. She pressed the button that signaled her request for entrance. She could hear it buzzing inside. No one came to the door but she heard a scuffle and then arguing. One of the voices was Raub’s.

Was he hurt?

She closed her hand into a fist and pounded on the door.

Nokk came through, and she was forced to take a step back to avoid contact. She attempted to peer around him as the door opened, but she could see little, though she noted that, aside from her quarters, that was the cleanest room she’d seen on the ship.

Nokk closed the door. “Lady Falrau, you will return to your quarters.”

“Is someone in need of medical attention? I’ve brought my medical kit. I can provide rudimentary aid.”

“There is no need. You must go now.”

“Is there a doctor?”

He stared at her impassively.

“Who was that I heard screaming? Was it Raub? If he is ill, it is my duty to attend him.”

“Go now.”

She reached for the door control. Nokk moved to block her. She narrowly avoided touching him.

Her lip curled in revulsion. She turned on her heel and retraced her steps.

Hours later, her own door buzzer sounded. Falrau looked up from her stitching and said, “Come.”

Nokk appeared in the open doorway. “Lady Falrau is requested to dine.”

She nodded and rose. She knew from experience that Nokk would stand there until she followed him. There was no point in delay.

The corridors were empty as always. She’d never seen anyone but Nokk and Raub, though she knew there had to be others aboard. Someone piloted the ship. Someone cooked the meals they consumed. And someone had to be inside the infirmary screaming that afternoon, assuming that hadn’t been her brother. The Raub she had known was stoic under the application of pain. In fact, he’d once confessed to her that he enjoyed it.

Raub was seated at the small table and looked well enough. A fine meal was laid out for them to share. These meals utilized exotic ingredients but were prepared in the lovekaan way, which was comforting. It was good to know he still retained something of his heritage.

She settled herself in the seat across from him.

“Sister.”

“Brother.”

There was no one to serve them, but she didn’t mind the informality. Sometimes, she gave the servants time to themselves and the family partook of cozy dinners like this. She silently picked up the dishes and selected portions for herself.

She examined him openly. He moved easily, using the mechanical arm with dexterity as though it were natural. If she hadn’t been able to hear it working, she might not know it was false. Certainly, most outsiders would never detect the deception with their lesser perception.

He had removed the patch from his right eye. The iris was a dark purple now. The skin around the eye remained swollen and irritated, but the eye itself was clear and relatively normal-looking, except for the hue, of course. Perhaps he had received painful medical care today and it had been his voice? “What procedure have you undergone to repair your eye?” she asked, keeping her tone light and neutral.

The antagonism that had grown between them was not helping her now. She would do her best to reduce it if she could. Perhaps if she could restore a semblance of a sibling relationship, this tension could be eased. They once were as close as two people could be.

He raised a brow. “Why do you care? It is heresy to you.”

Falrau chose her words carefully. “I have accepted what you have become, but still do not understand. You are my brother. I want to comprehend these changes without making incorrect assumptions.”

He poured her a glass of wine and brought his own glass to his lips. He rolled the liquid around in his mouth as he eyed her, seeming to consider his answer. “The eye was badly damaged. It was removed and kept alive outside my body to repair and replace the nonfunctioning parts. It’s just been put back.”

She sipped the wine which was lovely indeed. “And it serves you well, I hope?”

“As well as it did before.”

She lifted a bite on her utensil, which she noted was very fine. “And the other?”

“Will be repaired in the same way, in time.”

She chewed thoughtfully. “And the nonfunctioning parts that were replaced? This was done with donor tissue?”

He looked wary. “No. There are no species compatible with lovekaan. The parts of the organ that were irreparable were replaced with machines.”

She paused, her eyes darting to examine him again. The depths of his depravity were startling. How could he stand to look at himself in a mirror?

“I see you find that distasteful.”

She did not comment. She didn’t trust herself to be neutral on that topic.

He huffed. “I was very careful to specify that the visual acuity could not exceed that of a lovekaan in his prime. The result required no adjustment. It is as if nothing has changed. The procedure restored what had been destroyed, nothing more.”

They ate in silence as she considered that. She was no philosopher, but it was an interesting counterargument against illegal body alterations.

Near the end of the meal, she could hold her tongue no longer. “Are you going to explain to me what I heard this afternoon?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought that was made clear. It is none of your concern.”

“We know so little of each other, now, as adults. Perhaps you are unaware that I possess rudimentary medical training. I can be of help.”

“Your help is unnecessary to the task. Don’t be a busybody, Falrau.”

She set her glass down on the table with force. The contents sloshed but didn’t spill. “Why do you want me here?”

“I’ve told you. I need you to perform a duty for me.”

“So you’ve said. But I’m speaking of these meals. Why do you summon me and then treat me like a stranger?”

His lips tightened. “I do not believe I have treated you thus.”

“We shared the same womb, Raub. We grew in skill together from birth. And now I look at you, I listen to you, and I feel as though I don’t know you. Why do you exclude me, Raubinshka?” Her childhood pet name for him slipped out without her realizing it until it was too late. Her voice… Well. It had been more laden with emotion than she’d intended.

He looked startled.

She didn’t know why she’d said any of it. She didn’t actually want any part of whatever he was devising. But the old hurt had risen up inside her and spilled out. In her community she saw adult siblings who were every bit as fond as she and Raub had been in youth. In truth, she felt cheated that she did not retain that with him as so many others had.

They had diverged at some point, grown apart. He had gone away. By using that term of endearment, she was inviting familial intimacy with him—the softness and warmness that only a family member could give. Their old ways.

Inside, there had to be some part of the Raubinshka she knew from their shared childhood.

She looked down at her food. She was no longer hungry. Perhaps she was just feeling lonely and isolated so far from home and family. This place felt empty and cold. Raub had not even smiled authentically at her since she’d arrived. It was fantasy to think they could ever be family properly again. Juvenile. He was too far gone for redemption now.

She stood and took a few steps from the table. She spoke without turning. “Thank you for a lovely meal, brother. There is no need to invite me to share your table if your heart is not in it. I can take my meals alone in my quarters.”

“Why have you not borne children?”

Her head whipped around. “What?”

His eyes assessed her “You’ve been wealthy. You are beautiful. I’m sure there has been no dearth of suitors.”

She’d asked herself that same question a million times. “I’ve been busy managing the family. There is still time.”

“That is a pat answer. What is the truth? You would make a good mother. And I’m certain you want children. You always said so.”

She hesitated, quelling feelings of defensiveness. He was not attacking her. He was merely asking a question. “You are correct. I have had many suitors. However…”

His voice was soft, understanding. “None of them meet your strict qualifications.”

She sat back down and looked at him bleakly. “They do not.” She didn’t know why, but she found fault with every possible lover. She couldn’t bring herself to produce children with someone who was… less. The defects they possessed could end up expressing themselves in her line.

The cautionary tale sat before her.

She tilted her head and kept her own voice mild. “Have you produced offspring?”

“I have taken care that my lovers were always incompatible,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I see.”

“The hunt must come first, above all else.”

She frowned. The hunt? Out here?

Then it settled into place.

Of course he would seek the title of Kappyr. He’d mastered the fiercest animals on Loveka. This was all that remained. Was this the true reason he’d left home? “A drudii? But can there be any left?”

Raub smiled knowingly. “There are. Not even hybrids. True, full drudii.”

She didn’t bother to mask her surprise. “And you’ve found one?”

He looked smug. “I have.”

She sucked in a deep breath and grabbed his good arm. “Oh.”

He met her gaze levelly.

It all made sense now.

11

“Ready check,” Darcy said via the anipraxic link with Do’Vela as she slid into an armored encounter suit. This one was not just for show. Cantrip was much larger than Earth and pulled a slightly higher gravity as well as a higher oxygen content. She needed some power if she was going to move nimbly, and couldn’t afford to get lightheaded and lose focus. The suit also packed a potent arsenal and decent shielding. The cover story they’d decided on this time was that she belonged to a species who got sick in a high-oxygen atmosphere.

Not so far from the truth.

“Ready, Captain Darcy Eberhardt. All teams are connected and in place. Localized signal jamming is online,” came Do’Vela’s instant perky reply.

Darcy had two more ships in low orbit, filled with heavily armored volunteers. Darcy usually did the heavy lifting and these guys came in and cleaned up afterward, but circumstances were a bit different today. This wasn’t like taking down a single slaver with one or two goons working for him or her; this was a full-blown operation. She might need backup. Especially if OpteraX put out a distress call that got through their jammers. This far out, they were unlikely to be on any kind of wired network. She hoped.

Darcy hopped out of the small transport ship. “As soon as we’re in, I want team B on all the exits,” she ordered via the anipraxic link, gesturing at the second team exiting the ship behind her own.

The building that housed OpteraX, Inc., was nondescript and underwhelming in size, looking something like an abandoned single-story warehouse on Earth. It appeared to operate primarily through mail order with an express shipment service on the side that ferried nearly full-grown hymenoptera for customers who needed short-term workers fast. This one small business, however, made a lot of bank.

It was located in a rural area, on a low-population colony world, perfectly situated for an illegal operation. And a raid.

Though they had only seen one person coming and going from the hymenoptera factory over land every day, there might be people inside who either lived there or arrived via one of the delivery transports. It seemed like a good idea to be ready for anything.

They set off. Darcy felt a bit lumbering but adjusted quickly within the powered suit. Hain’s lithe, swaying gate was a little slower, but she seemed to be dealing with the slightly higher gravity well.

Tesserae71 seemed unfazed. Darcy was conflicted about bringing him. He wasn’t well. But he’d been born in this facility, and though he didn’t know the entire layout of the building, he did know more than the rest of them did. And he wanted to go. Ultimately, he was the reason they’d made this business their next target. It was on the jump route to Talus 3, so the timing was perfect.

OpteraX wasn’t housed in a commercial-style building. There wasn’t a big sign or a well-marked front door. They had to guess which entrance to use, based on how the building was oriented to the landing field and street parking, because even Tesserae71 didn’t know. Hain indicated what she assumed was the customer entrance, but Darcy stopped her.

“No, let’s use the other door.” Darcy gestured toward the door they’d seen shipping containers carried through during their surveillance. “Someone who had never been here before obviously wouldn’t know where to go, and we might catch someone off guard, get an idea of how many people are working here.”

“As you wish,” Hain replied.

They didn’t really have much of a plan. Without a detailed knowledge of the interior, they couldn’t really form one. And Darcy was very experienced at making things up as she went along. The use of silent communication definitely gave them an edge.

They’d never seen anyone patrolling the outside, and there wasn’t a single window in the entire building, but Darcy assumed they had cameras set up to watch the perimeter and that they’d be escorted immediately to a customer-friendly area. They arrived at the door next to a docking platform. Darcy tried the handle. It was unlocked.

She opened the door to a vast warehouse type of area, stacked with boxes in orderly rows, presumably full of eggs. It seemed to encompass more than a third of the overall building. The overhead industrial lighting was dim. She waited, holding her breath, as her suit analyzed for movement, sound, and heat signatures in the immediate area.

Not a soul was around.

A temperature sensor in her suit told her that this room was pretty chilly, roughly fifty degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature needed to retard the growth of the hymenoptera eggs, keeping them alive but in a sort of suspended animation. They wouldn’t develop unless provided with warmer temperatures.

“Stay as quiet as possible,” Darcy said via anipraxis. “Let’s see how far we can get before we run into someone.”

“Acknowledged,” said Hain.

They followed a wide corridor between rows of boxes until it ended in a wall. They made a right and found another door that led to a wide hallway, also empty. Darcy shrugged and went through. There were many normal-sized doors along the left side and one large sliding door on the right.

“This is the main corridor,” Tesserae71 said over the anipraxic link. “There will be sleeping quarters along here and an office at the end.”

They made their way along the left side. Darcy opened a door and peeked inside. It was filled from floor to ceiling with empty hymenoptera sleeping capsules, tiny cells built one on top of another in rows constructed from sheet metal and bars. They were doorless, barely larger than a full-grown hymenoptera, and coated on the inside with a clay-like substance. To one side were stacks of bags of premade hymenoptera food, a couple of sinks, and what she guessed were toilets. She opened the door wider so Tesserae71 could see.

“I was raised in a room very much like this one. I believe most of these rooms are the same,” he said anipraxically.

The next room was identical, but some of the cells were occupied by very small hymenoptera that appeared to be sleeping. Darcy shut the door silently so she wouldn’t disturb them. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes as she leaned against the door. She’d been hoping there wouldn’t be any kids around for this.

There was clearly a lock on the outside of the door, but it must have been triggerable by a remote device, and she didn’t want to take the time to find the right electromagnetic signature to lock it. She reached into a pocket of her suit, pulled out a small glob of heat-set plastic, and wedged it into the place where the handle mechanism met the frame. She removed one of the gloves from her suit and touched the plastic with her finger, channeling a tiny bit of energy into it. It solidified. The kids wouldn’t be able to get out if they got curious about any sounds they heard. She’d let them out when it was all over and be very, very careful not to start a fire.

The next few rooms of sleeping cells were empty. At the end of the hall was the office, just like Tesserae71 had described. She glanced inside for a split second. It had a door to the outside, the one they’d almost come in. Two adult hymenoptera worked at computer consoles behind a desk. They didn’t look up, and she eased the door shut again. She repeated the process to seal that door.

She had just started to slip the glove back into place when the wide door on the other side of the hallway opened.

They’d been discovered.

She turned slowly after the glove was back on. Two hymenoptera stood in the open doorway, their heads tilted at an angle.

“You should not be here,” clacked one of them. They seemed affronted.

“Apologies,” Hain said. She gestured back the way they’d come. “We are here to buy eggs. Did we use the wrong entrance?”

“Kekipa and Raz,” Tesserae71 clacked softly as he gestured to them in turn, his body visibly shrinking a few inches.

The first thing Darcy noticed was that these two hymenoptera before her looked very different from those who resided on her ship. They were larger and more robust-looking. Their carapaces shimmered like polished metal coated with glass, the colors shifting from a bright lime hue to royal blue with hints of purple catching the light as they moved. When she glanced back at Tesserae71, there was a stark contrast. Could they be the same species? Were these females?

She was about to ask Tesserae71 if he knew when she glanced behind them through the open door to the room beyond.

“Oh,” she said. She tried to swallow the word before it fully came out of her mouth. She was just so surprised.

An even larger hymenoptera lay in there. Clearly a female. Her massive abdomen was bloated, nearly transparent, and stretched out hideously to at least five times the length of the rest of her body. She was so massive, Darcy doubted she could move under her own power. At least a dozen small green hymenoptera like Tesserae71 surrounded her, all of them touching her, cleaning her or something. Her carapace was more like the two standing in front of Darcy but lighter in color and lackluster. It didn’t shimmer. The female hymenoptera raised her head listlessly to look their way. Her compound eyes looked dull and lifeless, lacking the depth of color and iridescence of the males’ luminous eyes that surrounded her.

A queen.

“You should not be here,” Kekipa repeated.

“I am Hain of the Vermachten,” Hain said. “I sent a message three days ago and was told I could come at any time.”

The lustrous hymenoptera looked at each other. Kekipa said, “Hain? A very good customer for many cycles. Yes. We are happy to sell you eggs. But I told you, no tours.”

Tesserae71 stepped forward. “Do you think that is my mother?” he asked Darcy over the anipraxic link.

Darcy darted a look at him. “She might be. You’ve never seen her before?” When she looked back at the queen, an egg slid out of her abdomen and was scooped up by a waiting hymenoptera that looked just like Tesserae71, except healthier. He immediately placed the egg in an open box.

“Never. No one was allowed out of the raising room until we were shipped, except to be measured and weighed.”

Shipped? Like a product? What kind of life was that? What were these people doing? This was madness, every bit as horrific as the slavers she’d been pursuing.

“Are all of you the same species?” Darcy asked sharply, the suit magnifying her voice to an angry boom.

Hain sent her a worried sidelong look.

“What do you mean?” Kekipa asked.

“Don’t play dumb. Are you the same species as my friend here”—she gestured toward Tesserae71—“or that woman in there?” She indicated the queen, who’d just popped out another egg.

“That’s debatable,” Kekipa said, with a contemptuous toss of the head toward Tesserae71.

Raz glanced around nervously, then said, “Technically, yes, but—”

That did it for Darcy. She didn’t let them continue. Red-hot anger flared inside her. She stepped sideways toward the door, just out of sight of the hymenoptera attending the queen, and pulled out a weapon. She pointed it in the direction of Kekipa and Raz but kept it lowered. “What’s going on here?”

Dismayed chittering answered her.

“This is why we do not allow outsiders in these areas. You do not understand,” Kekipa said.

Raz clacked loudly, transmitting panic. “A gun! The strangers have guns!”

All of the Hymenoptera erupted in a frenzied racket. Several of the queen’s attendants surged forward to stand in the doorway to stare at Darcy and her crew, while the others seemed to have found hiding places inside.

Nothing was very ominous about anything they were doing. Darcy reminded herself to take care. Hymenoptera could be very fragile. “Easy,” she said. “Let’s all stay calm. I just want to know what exactly you think you’re doing, selling your people.”

“People? You think they’re people?” Kekipa said. “They’re drones. They’ve always been drones. They were born to be drones. Genetically, they cannot amount to anything more. They’re haploid, don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see. They’re capable of thinking and feeling and having wants and needs. Nothing more is necessary to qualify them as people, no matter how many copies of a gene they have.”

“Well, you’re wrong. Who do you think you are? Coming onto private property, pointing guns at us, and trying to tell us what constitutes personhood in our society. You don’t get to decide how our culture operates! You have a thing or two to learn about tolerance. We don’t even give the drones names. No one does. We give them a designation and a number. We have a surplus. We sell it. It’s a product, no different from any other.”

Raz flinched. Was that guilt or fear?

Darcy’s lip curled with disgust. “So, why choose Cantrip for your operation? Why not somewhere else, somewhere where you’d have more customers?”

“Simple. The taxes are lower here,” Kekipa said scornfully, waving a pincer around.

Darcy still wasn’t sure if these two were males or females who had not been turned into queens.

“But that’s not the only reason, is it? What you’re doing is illegal on most worlds. As Cantrip grows and the law develops a longer reach, you’ll move to another low-population colony world.”

“If memory serves, you used to operate out of Lench,” Hain said. “Our research shows they shut you down.”

Kekipa advanced on Hain. “You brought this prig here. You, who have benefitted from our service for so long. You betrayed us.”

“Hold up,” Darcy said, raising the gun a little.

Raz moved forward, gently pulling Kekipa back. “Please try to understand. This is the way it has been for all of time. In the past, the drones were necessary. As a people, we could not function without them. When technology made it possible for our people to thrive with fewer drones, we simply utilized them in other ways. They still serve the same purpose. They enrich our lives.”

“They enrich your bank accounts,” Darcy spat. “Just because you did something in the past doesn’t make this right.”

Hain spoke. “And this doesn’t even begin to address the issue of the shortened telomeres. That was done purposefully, with full knowledge that it would accrue more credits, without thought to the quality of the individual’s existence. They endure a short lifespan among strangers, and I imagine that is often with little to no pay. My companion is correct. They are slaves. Slavery is widely considered to be immoral by the Sentients. The perpetrators hide their misdeeds in the shadows.”

There was a chorus of confused and distressed clacking from within the room.

Kekipa clacked loudly, the vowel sounds emerging as hisses. “Even if I agreed with you, do you think that thousands of years of cultural practice can so easily be changed?”

“Cultures change because they have to, one person at a time,” Darcy replied.

“Really? And how do you know this?”

Darcy swore that Kekipa tilted their head like a teenager with a massive attitude.

Darcy retorted, “Because I come from a place where slavery was once legal. It’s not anymore.”

“But what do you want from us?” Raz asked.

Darcy had enough of the talking. They weren’t getting anywhere. “You were chased off Lench when they found out what you were doing. That didn’t stop you. We’re here to stop you. We’re taking everyone from this place and giving them a new home, somewhere where they’ll be safe and can choose what they want to do for themselves. We’re going to do our best to fix their genes so they can live long, productive lives. We’ll take your identification and your money and leave you somewhere remote so you have a very hard time doing this again. You’re about to get a taste of what it’s like to feel as helpless as the people you sell.”

Kekipa clacked out a savage curse and rushed Darcy. She tried to hop out of the way but didn’t move as fast as she intended. One of their pincers managed to slap the weapon from her hand while they slammed into her, pushing her flat to the floor.

The high gravity combined with the Kekipa’s weight centered on her stomach knocked the wind out of her. The hymenoptera slapped Darcy’s helmet, thwacking her with their pincers. Darcy lifted her hands and batted at the pincers, trying to capture them and stop the pounding.

“Stop,” Hain said. Her voice was the same tone as ever, but Kekipa paused for just a second, giving Darcy a chance to grab first one foreleg and then the other as they turned their head nearly one hundred and eighty degrees to look at Hain, who had just pulled out her own weapon.

The small boost from her armor allowed Darcy to push the hymenoptera up and off her. She stood, still holding Kekipa’s forelegs. Tesserae71 picked Darcy’s gun off the floor and trained it on Kekipa as well.

The other hymenoptera chittered with distress.

“You turn our own against us!” Kekipa clacked.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Now you claim them as your own, huh?”

She separated Kekipa and Raz into the two empty rooms that Tesserae71 had called raising rooms and locked them in. Then she ordered the teams to complete a search of the entire facility. There were no other shiny diploid hymenoptera on site. The two still confined in the office were haploid drones like the rest. Two people were all it took to exploit thousands upon thousands of others.

The rest of the hymenoptera cowered wherever they could find a place to hide—behind the queen, stacks of boxes, in corners. They obviously didn’t feel safe.

She put away her weapon. She kept her voice gentle. “I know you’re frightened. I know you’ve rarely, if ever, seen anyone aside from those two. We’re here to help you. We’re going to give you a better life where you can live together like a family.”

Someone peeked over the queen. “We live like a family here.”

Darcy spread her hands. “But children shouldn’t be raised behind closed doors, never seeing the world, never interacting with adults. You deserve to leave these rooms, experience things, do what you want with your life. You are intelligent, compassionate people and should also be living longer than a couple of years at the most.”

The queen struggled to move. She clacked slowly, the words coming out in creaks and groans. “She’s right. I was like them once. Then my name was drawn in the lottery. They brought me here. Then I learned what misery means.”

Darcy’s eyes welled up. She sniffed. This poor woman was nothing more than an egg machine. She wondered if she could recover from this.

Darcy turned to Hain, “You and Tesserae71 talk to these people. Reassure them. Find out what we need to know to move the queen. I’ll call down the teams and get the transfer underway.”

Darcy spoke to Do’Vela to get things moving. While she waited, she felt compelled to talk to the queen. Hain and Tesserae71 had gathered the others together on the other side of the room.

The queen’s head rested on a massive silk pillow. She turned it only slightly to acknowledge that Darcy approached. Darcy pulled up an empty packing crate and sat down next to her. She plucked off her helmet and loosened her hair.

“I’m Darcy. What’s your name?” Darcy asked her.

“My name is Wahndis,” she replied.

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. Two standard years? Three? Perhaps more. Time has lost meaning here.”

“We’re going to do everything we can to help you,” Darcy said.

“It’s too late for me. They were about to bring another. Retire me.”

“Retire you?”

“A euphemism, I suspect, for termination.”

Darcy closed her eyes against her anger. “You lived a normal life before they brought you here?”

“Yes. I was an artist.”

Wahndis seemed very tired.

Darcy didn’t know what to say. Wahndis would be their sole source of truth about all of this, but she seemed too exhausted to question now. Hopefully, Hain could do something to ease her suffering and bring her out of what Darcy could only assume was a deep depression.

“They altered me. All of my eggs. Genetically. Just as that one said.” One of her forelegs lifted slightly and shook as it pointed in the direction of Hain. “And brought me here to die slowly so they could live in luxury. For every one of them, thousands are born each day.”

“Are there are more places like this?” Darcy asked.

“I believe there are at least two more. Yes.”

Darcy nodded grimly. There were always more.

12

Falrau put away her work and changed into lighter garb. Nokk was waiting outside her door. Her presence had been requested in Raub’s rooms.

The evening prior, she and Raub had stayed up long into the night, drinking and sharing stories of their youth. Raub’s quarters were decorated impeccably in the lovekaan style—dark jewel tones mixed with subdued natural tones on every surface. Tapestries hung on the walls and sumptuous furs laid over the seating and sleeping surfaces. She felt at home.

Both of their tongues had loosened and the stiffness between them had melted away. By the end of the night, they were curled up together on a couch, laughing with joy and ease, teasing each other in their old way.

She’d nearly forgotten what he’d become. He’d charmed her, but she didn’t mind. She was with her Raubinshka and all seemed right again. Somehow, the law seemed more remote, less important now, in the face of this joy.

Before she left to sleep, he’d challenged her to spar as they’d done when they were children just learning how to fight. He’d said he was sure she’d gone soft, spending all her time managing the family. It was good bait but unnecessary. She’d agreed to the challenge and hoped she would surprise him. She’d never stopped training. It was excellent exercise, and a good leader always set a good example.

She was surprised to find him bent over a stitching horse very much like her own when she arrived in his quarters. His tools were more modern and lightly used by comparison, but the stitching was breathtaking and finely wrought. Muted yellow and aquamarine shimmered over a black hide vest. The colors were unconventional, would never suit a hunter who needed to blend into their surroundings, but were exceedingly pleasing to her eye.

He set down his needle and looked up at her, shrugging, a touch of sheepishness in his expression. “This was always your forte, but I take up the practice from time to time. It soothes me.”

She smiled. “It is our way, is it not? No matter how far you roam from Loveka, Loveka remains in the blood. This work is lovely, brother.”

He rose and put an arm around her. “Loveka is always on my mind.”

She couldn’t take her eyes from his work. She moved in closer. The patterns were traditional but with a new sort of flair. She wondered where he had drawn his inspiration. She mentally cataloged the ideas. Perhaps she would replicate something like this herself one day.

“Are you ready to be humbled?” he asked with a rumble of laughter in his voice.

“We shall see who will be humbled,” she replied with a smug grin.

He led her to an empty cargo bay. It had been swept clean, but the pervasive miner’s dust remained in every crack and crevice, staining the floors and walls dark and glittery.

She stretched out her muscles and performed a few calisthenics to warm up. He did the same. They eyed each other, both grinning with anticipation. She signaled that she was ready, and he lunged for her. They grappled and tumbled, neither of them getting the upper hand for long. She felt young and alive. It was good to work off her frustration, and the mood between them was festive and good.

Then they got a bit more serious. Sweeping and kicking. Blocking and deflecting blows. She whirled, building momentum in broad roundhouse kicks. He ducked or moved to soften the blows and darted in to jab. They were grunting and growling at each other, sweating freely. He tried to catch her off guard and send her sprawling, but she saw through his feints and danced out of the way or slipped out of his grasp. They were well matched, just as they had always been.

She flipped backward out of a hold, landing on her feet some distance away, panting. She held up a hand, signaling for a break. “Let’s have some water,” she said.

He nodded.

There was a small table near the door, set up with a pitcher and two acrylic tumblers. She poured for them both and held out a full glass for him as she watched him cross the distance to her. His clothes, hair, and skin were blackened in places from contact with the floor and walls. She noted the slightest indication of a limp in his gait, which he tried to disguise with a pompous swagger. He took the water, downing it in one long draw. She did the same.

“You’ve kept up your training,” he said, his breathing already slowing to normal.

“As have you, despite your injuries. Well done.”

His expression clouded. “Let’s go. Another round.”

“Oh, no. I’ve had quite enough. Thank you.” She laughed, but it sounded forced. She was wary. She didn’t like the sudden change in his mood.

“We’re not done here,” he grated out.

“We most certainly are,” she said haughtily, pouring herself another glass.

He knocked the container from her hand and it tumbled halfway across the cargo bay, spilling its contents over the stippled plastic flooring.

She kept her arms at her sides and stared at him levelly. She would not be provoked. “That’s enough, Raub.”

“How dare you. You call me an invalid and don’t allow me prove myself.”

“I’ve done no such thing. You’ve proven yourself to me. I just said as much.” She approached him and gingerly touched his forehead, smoothing away a smear of grime. A gentle touch along with a demonstration of fondness could sometimes break the spell of his ill temper. She kept her expression inviting and unruffled. She desperately wanted things to remain as they had been only moments before. Why did he always ruin everything with his anger? “You’re a sight, Raubinshka. I’m sure we both are. I require a cleanse.”

He smacked her hand away. “I am whole. You will not convince me otherwise.” He stalked for the door.

“Raub,” she said sternly. “Raub, hear me.”

But he was gone.

She picked up the tumbler and replaced it on the table. She exited the cargo bay and followed Nokk back to her quarters.

Age had not tempered him.

13

Hain was very busy now.

She preferred to work in solitude but had to accept the limitations of time. She’d asked Darcy for some lab assistants to help process all the work. Several of her previous assistants, including Tesserae71, were reassigned to her. They required minimal training, knew her habits, and could maintain her tissue-culture experiments easily. Her focus was split, but the assistants could take up the slack.

Wahndis was her most pressing patient at the moment. She was suffering from extreme malnutrition and exhaustion. Her body was in a state of crisis. They’d nearly lost her a couple of times during the move to the Vermachten. Reversing her gross fecundity was a difficult puzzle but crucial to solving her primary maladies. They had found some brief notes on a computer at the factory about how her condition was brought on, which was helping Hain decipher how to oppose the hormonal feedback loop her body was stuck in, but it wasn’t entirely straightforward.

Darcy breezed in. “Wahndis looks better today,” she said as she hopped up on the bench.

“I’m infusing her with a potent vitamin and mineral supplement.”

Hymenoptera were not easy to treat. Their tough carapace protected their vital organs but also blocked conventional medical treatment. Hain had devised a micropore boring device that punched holes through the chitin in non-vital areas, allowing the nutrient solution to seep through and be absorbed by internal tissues. The holes could be resealed when the regimen was complete. Or covered, in case further treatments became necessary. It was unconventional but so far successful. Preventing infection was paramount.

“Well, it seems to be working,” Darcy said. “The operation on Cantrip is finished. I had them blow the warehouse today. And I sent an anonymous tip to the local authorities about OpteraX in case they try to set up there again. We’re ready to move on. We’ll be stopping at a port soon. Is there anything you need?”

Hain took some samples out of an incubator. “I am well stocked at the moment,” she said. “Where do you plan to settle the Hymenoptera?”

Darcy blew out a protracted breath. “I don’t know yet. Any ideas?”

“Nothing comes to mind. They are not well liked among the Sentients, as you know.”

“I know. I know. It’ll have to be someplace with a low population where they can live in peace. And we’ll have to keep an eye on them.”

Darcy looked worried. It amazed Hain, the capacity this young woman had for concern for so many others. “What is your next mission?” Hain asked as she fed a sample into the device on the bench next to Darcy.

“Talas 3. It’s basically a kind of hotel prison set up on an asteroid in a dead system. It’s a depot where slavers rent rooms to keep special stock until they find a buyer.”

Hain looked up. “This sounds like a much bigger job than you’ve previously undertaken.”

Darcy’s chin was raised with determination. “It will be. But we’re ready. I think this is the kind of place where we’ll find some humans.”

Hain moved closer to Darcy. “Are you certain? There will likely be defenses of many types. It will be dangerous for all involved.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s time to fry bigger fish.”

Hain surveyed the samples she’d laid out. Darcy’s words didn’t translate into something completely sensible. She had a habit of speaking in culturally rooted metaphors that didn’t translate well, but her tone spoke volumes.

Darcy was clearly goal-driven, but her efforts were not achieving what she desired. She also displayed a tendency toward impulsive decisions. Hain worried that Darcy was tiring of the search for Adam and other humans, and out of frustration was reaching for larger and larger targets—that might get her into trouble. So far, her targets had been relatively low-risk. But with a higher-risk target such as this, one misstep could be profoundly deadly. And what would that do to the young woman who cared so much for the welfare of others? How could Hain address this in a way that would not offend, but would provoke the needed caution?

Hain’s computer terminal sounded a low tone. She hadn’t heard that sound since—

She froze.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy asked.

Hain turned slowly and looked at the screen. The flashing icon was there.

How? How could that be?

She kept staring at the screen in disbelief.

Darcy scooted to the edge of the bench, her fleshy forehead pleated with concern. “Hain?”

“Darcy, are you certain that Raub was dead on Ulream?”

“What? Of course I am. There was a huge hole in his chest. He had no heartbeat. There was blood everywhere. He was dead.”

Hain was faintly aware of the air rushing through her open mouth from the vocalization device. Of releasing massive amounts of ozone. She felt weak. She reached out a finger to tap the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy said.

A message popped up. It said, You are such a disappointment, Hain. I expected more from you. You would do well to remember our contract and the world that lies hidden, overflowing with all that lovely conscious wood. There is a dearth of virgin wood on the galactic market. Perhaps I should begin a furniture-manufacturing business in my spare time? But I digress. I will be sending an emissary soon, with a message. You will stay well out of her way and accept her authority in my stead. Keep this information to yourself, if you value your life and the lives of the Mother. Remember that I will always own you.

Darcy hopped down from the bench.

Hain slapped the display off before Darcy could see it and turned back to her samples, picking one up at random as well as a pipette.

“You okay?”

“Mm?” Hain feigned distraction. “Oh, yes. I’m due for a light treatment. Just a bit tired from working long hours.”

Darcy stared at her with narrowed eyes.

Hain loaded a sample. “In fact, I really should do that now.” She looked expectantly at Darcy.

“Okay. I need to get to my training session, anyway. Yunto doesn’t like to wait.” She paused midway to the door. “You’ll find this interesting. Yunto had some gloves and boots made for me out of magnetic materials to see if I can use them to channel some extra force into punches and kicks. Sort of throwing my weight around, electromagnetic style.” She grinned.

Hain’s mouth fell open. “What a fascinating approach.”

“He’s full of ideas. I better go. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Darcy left.

Hain sagged against the workbench, bowing her head. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

Raub was alive.

Or someone who knew all his secrets had decided to use them.

All her instincts told her it was Raub, though.

It had taken some time to believe that he was dead. But after years had passed, it had seemed indisputable. And now… not only was he alive, he was angry that she hadn’t rescued him on Ulream. That she now worked for Darcy.

And he still had the same hold over her.

The future she’d imagined, of safety, of doing good and continuing to explore pure science, vanished in the time it took for a message to appear on a screen.

What could she do to stop this madness?

If she told Darcy, she risked everything. The Mother…

If she stayed silent, she would sacrifice herself and who knew how many others would be damned along with her.

Which was the greater good or the lesser evil?

14

Falrau’s eyes drifted away from her stitching to peer out the window of the small vessel. She’d left Raub’s ship three days before and was very near her destination, a busy port, teeming with outsiders, where she would meet her destiny.

The stars, without the impediment of atmosphere, were a beautiful sight. She wondered how she could translate the feeling they evoked to her art.

Perhaps small points of ecru worked over a highly contrasting black background in and among spidery shapes to disguise the joins of the leather could serve that function. Adding touches of the red, yellow, and blue to each representation of a star would complete the simile. It would be nontraditional to use bright hues, but she had admired the beauty of Raub’s brightly colored work. Perhaps a subset of her clientele would be open to something that diverged from the usual. Maybe those who led, who no longer hunted.

The idea was entirely new and she was drawn to it. She thought it could be a stunning piece of work. But would it be sellable? Or would it be so different that it would be a waste of her time? Were thoughts like these proof that she’d already been contaminated by the outside? Was that what they would say of her and her work, inspired by the things she’d seen and felt away from Loveka?

It was a distraction. These thoughts of art and the loveliness of the stars.

She’d had too many heretical thoughts lately.

She refocused her mind. Raub had finally sent her on the mission that, once complete, would restore the family’s wealth and comfort. Every hair on her body stood on end, heralding her sense of doom about the task.

She wasn’t sure she believed him.

Had he sensed her needs and desires and given them to her merely to solidify her loyalty without the feeling behind the action? Was he so cruel that he could use a family member as a pawn?

She didn’t like being manipulated. If she’d had another viable option, she would have taken it. She was very aware that her inability to find a way out of the situation could presage the end of her life.

Falrau had always known deep down that something in Raub’s mental makeup had been warped, even as a child, though she could never discern the cause. He had always been obsessive about the hunt, as many of her people were. It was their way of life. It was natural. She’d felt it herself—a sort of primal urge, an instinct, driving one beyond sanity to pursue prey even when it led to days without food and clean water, or resulted in personal injury.

But sometimes, this obsession went too far. The hunter became deranged, sacrificed anything, including community members, in the pursuit of their quarry. No risk was too large. Nothing and no one was indispensable.

But to pursue a drudii… in this day and age… It seemed nonsensical.

She’d heard so many fantastical stories about those ancient people that they seemed akin to myths. Surely, none of those accounts could actually be true—they had to be embellished to entertain children. If the stories were to be believed, the drudii possessed mystical powers and bordered on godlike entities.

She had no doubt that some form of real drudii had once existed. The history between her people and the illegal genetically modified monsters was well documented. The hubris of their parent race had allowed the science to go too far. Technology was like that. It tainted everything. The Lovek had been entrusted with seeking out and eradicating the druids because their abilities were so dangerous that they could not be allowed to live among the Sentients. That part of it, she believed.

But no one had earned the title of Kappyr for hundreds of years. How could any of them have survived the lovekaan drive to obtain such an exalted status?

Yet Raub had been so certain that this was a true drudii.

And now, ostensibly, he sent her to one. A woman named Darcy Eberhardt. To assassinate her, to reclaim the ship and money she’d stolen from him, all in the name of vengeance for his injuries. He said he could not go himself because of the state he was in. It was her duty to fulfill this ancient custom.

She would be the Kappyr, a title she’d never given a thought to pursuing.

Unease settled in her belly.

Everything she knew about her brother told her this was not… right. He would not be able to tolerate a sibling with the title of Kappyr. It would drive him mad with jealousy.

So, why send her? Why not wait until he was fully restored, as he said, and resume the hunt himself? These were questions he refused to answer, and she feared she was but a puppet playing a role in some grander play he had planned, that his obsession was so out of control that she would be his willing sacrifice.

It was true he’d been surprised that she’d continued her training. He’d been impressed with her skill. Had he assumed that he could send her to distract this drudii for some other purpose? Was she expendable to him? Would he let her die weakening the druid, and then swoop in for the kill himself?

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Raub was dead. Technically, this drudii had won. Even among their own, were all the details known, Falrau owed this woman fealty, as strange as that sounded. Despite all the history, to try to kill her was wrong.

Raub dismissed that argument by citing the ancient custom of exacting vengeance upon someone who had done grave injury through gross deceit and trickery. Those closest to the dishonored party carried out this act. According to Raub, this drudii had done just that. And Falrau could not deny that he’d come away from their encounter seriously harmed, though he’d left the details to her imagination.

And there was also the fact that if the existence of this druid became common knowledge on Loveka, many expeditions would be launched to find her and destroy her. The title of Kappyr would be irresistible to most.

Darcy Eberhardt would never be safe anywhere in the universe.

But was that a fair fate? She didn’t know.

Each thought conflicted with another. Falrau sighed and set aside her stitching. She composed a message to Nerauk, a younger cousin and her closest confidant, who had assumed the household duties in her absence.

Dearest Nerauk,

I hope this missive finds you and the family well.

I dearly miss Loveka. The outside is full of temptations. I resist.

My host has sent me on a mission. I cannot provide details, but it may be dangerous. If you do not hear from me again, I ask that you honor this request: do not investigate the circumstances of my disappearance. It is for the best.

Take care of our clan. I trust that in your care our family will prosper.

Falrau

She still had choices. She had free will. She would make up her own mind about these opposing ideas when the moment came.

And she hoped she would survive.

15

Darcy tromped through the Vermachten in a shimmery fuchsia-plated encounter suit. She’d hated the color pink since she was a little kid, when her mother had painted her bedroom in an eye-assaulting shade under the mistaken assumption that every little girl would love that. When Darcy had been unhappy about the change, her mother had been annoyed and said she couldn’t afford to repaint it again. So, she’d had to live with fairytale-princess-puke-colored walls as long as she’d lived there, hating it more every single day.

Every time she looked down at herself, she felt ridiculous, but she had to take the suit out on a trial run at some point. The merchant had insisted that this color was all the rage among a non-air-breathing species called the Ontopo because it was the same color as their skin. When she’d hesitated, he threw in a standard air conversion kit for free. She’d bought it.

She suspected he’d been trying to unload a model he couldn’t otherwise sell. But the price had been good and it fit better than any other suit she’d ever tried. It was the Cadillac of her encounter suits and fit like it was custom made just for her. The interior was sized perfectly and was lined with some kind of memory foam that conformed snugly to her shape, making her more secure. She didn’t slip around inside when she moved. It almost felt like a prolonged hug.

The merchant had insisted that the foam resisted taking on body odor, which was good because her other encounter suits needed regular airing and were still often on the ripe side. They were difficult to clean and she tended to get a lot of exercise when she used them. She’d yet to find a product even remotely resembling Sure Extra Dry out in the black.

She’d been in the suit for about an hour, testing it out, and despite all the foam, it wasn’t hot. The climate control was superb. Add to that the fact that the ontopo were apparently a belligerent species—the suit had many optional features for offense and defense that could be invisibly built in. She’d bought them all. No aftermarket retrofitting necessary. It was power armor. Unfortunately, the merchant hadn’t had any more subdued colors like a nice gray or black in stock. At the time, the other factors had been enough to convince her to buy.

Now she was less sure. Once it was used a few times, it would probably be less of an eyesore, she hoped, as it took on some dirt and wear. Otherwise, maybe she could have it painted. Standing out in a crowd was never a good idea. But she had to admit that the interior of the thing was comfy as all get-out.

She didn’t have time to change, anyway. Hain had set up a meeting with a potential informant on Ivid while the fleet was refueling. Her transport was ready to go and waiting for her. Besides, this port was near the ontopo homeworld, and she’d be seeing for herself how many ontopo wore the brightly colored encounter suits today.

She headed down the corridor toward the hangar bay, passing Hain’s large lab. A hymenoptera crewmember accompanied by one of the young hymenoptera from Cantrip went by in the opposite direction. The youths had gotten restless just hanging around doing nothing, and asked if they could shadow some of the older crewmen to begin to learn what many of them now considered their future career.

She’d immediately put them on the payroll as junior staff. Ultimately, she’d make sure they had a lot more choices as far as a career went, but it was good that they were taking an interest in their surroundings. They’d been skittish at first, but calmed a great deal when they realized that the ship was crewed with people who were their older siblings.

The door to Hain’s lab opened and Hain stood just inside the portal, watching Darcy walk by. Darcy fluttered her fingers in a little wave and cringed as the metallic pink arm came into her line of sight.

“You are going to the meeting on Ivid?” Hain said after the hymenoptera were out of earshot.

“Yep. Gotta get a move on or I’ll be late,” Darcy called over her shoulder.

“Wait—” Hain said.

“What?” Darcy turned and took a few steps back toward Hain. “Is there something about the informant you forgot to tell me?”

She looked at Hain more closely. Something was off. Hain’s expressive eyes darted around and her posture seemed odd, shrunken or something. She almost looked frightened.

“No… Yes.” Hain’s fingers twitched and moved around without purpose.

As she stared, Darcy realized Hain had been acting odd for days—ever since the hymenoptera raid. She’d thought it was because she was overworked caring for Wahndis and racing to complete her research on hymenoptera longevity, but maybe it was more than that. Darcy unclipped the helmet of the encounter suit and held it against her side. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I… believe I have made an error in judgement. I wish to correct it. But I fear the consequences. This has been… difficult.”

Darcy frowned. She’d never seen Hain so upset. Darcy couldn’t tell by her voice—it was always a breathy monotone. But her body language was a mess. Something was obviously bothering her more than a little.

She and Hain had started off rocky. Hain had been following Raub’s orders when she’d abducted Darcy, surgically modified her with a language chip, and participated in the coaching and molding of Darcy into Raub’s idea of the perfect prey.

But Darcy’d had to remember that Hain was his victim too. It had still been hard to separate all that out and build some trust between them. It had taken a long time to feel like Hain was a friend Darcy could rely on.

Now wariness came flooding back. Darcy waited, silent, for Hain to speak. Forget the damn ship and appointment. Something was up. Something big.

Finally, Hain said, “It’s a trap.”

Darcy’s head jerked back like she’d been slapped. “A trap? What are you talking about?”

“It’s Raub. He’s not dead.”

Darcy blinked hard, resisting the feeling of dread that was already weighing her down and making her head spin. Her knee-jerk reaction was utter denial. “That’s not possible. I saw him. I listened for a heartbeat.”

“It is possible. He’s a different species, Darcy.”

Hain seemed so sure. Could she have made a mistake? She’d been badly injured, nearly dead herself and overcome with grief and fear. For the first time, the idea seemed feasible. Every muscle tensed and her stomach began to churn. “How do you know this?” she snapped.

“I received instructions. It’s definitely him or someone who knows everything he knew. He is using the same threats against me as before.”

Darcy scowled. She lashed out. “So, you were going to send me off to face him? Without backup? Without any preparation?”

Hain met her gaze. Her spine, if she had a spine, straightened. “I’m warning you now.”

Darcy turned one way and then another, clenching and unclenching her fists, her initial panic quickly subsiding into anger. “That bastard is down there on Ivid right now?”

Hain didn’t move. She just followed Darcy with her eyes. “He said he was sending an emissary. I don’t believe it will be him. He said I should treat them as his proxy.”

Darcy inhaled sharply and let it out slowly, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She didn’t have a lot of time. She had to make good decisions, or the consequences could be horrible for everyone involved. “So, we have no idea who or what is down there.”

“That is correct.”

“And this person will have orders to kidnap me to deliver to him, I assume? He wants another hunt.”

“I came to the same conclusion, yes.”

Darcy looked Hain up and down. She had come clean despite years of being pinned under Raub’s thumb. That meant something. Waiting until the last minute was shitty, but maybe it was understandable. Raub was about as scary as it gets and had threatened to wipe out everyone on Hain’s home planet. Darcy decided not to hold this eleventh-hour confession against her, but things might be strained between them for a while. Assuming she made it through this. She wasn’t sure she could ever fully trust Hain again. “Talk to Do’Vela. Arrange to split the fleet. Send three of our best fighters to your homeworld to protect it, and tell them to send us word immediately if a force turns up. Hire some mercenaries if you want. We’ve got plenty of credits.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Hain always defaulted to calling her that when she was unsure of her status.

Darcy turned away from Hain, mentally making calculations, rapidly thinking through ideas and discarding most of them. She had to work fast if she was going to get to the meeting on time and not raise this proxy’s suspicions by being late.

“You’re still going down?” Hain asked.

“I’m never going to be his toy again,” Darcy replied. “I’m going to send him a message.”

Hain said, “I’ll put out a call for volunteers to meet you there. You’ll need support.”

Darcy raised her chin a fraction but didn’t turn. “No. I go alone.”

There had only ever been one person she could rely on, fully, without reservation. One person who would never let her down.

Herself.

She wasn’t fooling herself—she might lose. She had no idea what kind of danger Raub had just put in her path. But she wouldn’t risk anyone else’s life in this fight, and she wouldn’t depend on someone who might fail to come through.

16

Falrau stood in a corner of the large, empty room Raub had rented for the meeting on Ivid. There were a few chairs and tables of various sizes pushed against the walls. It clearly didn’t get much use aside from storage.

She’d arrived early and had spent most of the day in meditation to foster a calm frame of mind. She reached out with all of her senses, evaluating every footfall, every scent, every shadow. She was managing a serene demeanor, but inwardly she remained in conflict. While she was confident in her own skills to deal with whatever came in the next hours, she was less sanguine about the honor in the task Raub had laid out for her.

The time for the encounter came and went. This drudii didn’t value punctuality, it seemed.

Raub had told her so little of the girl. He had shown Falrau images of her. In them, the druid had looked unassuming, a nondescript sort of hairless anthropoid, similar in build to the Lovek, though far less menacing with soft nails and blunt teeth. The girl clearly wasn’t a carnivore. She had the round, soft look of a child not fully ready for the challenges of the world. When she’d said as much, Raub had warned her not to underestimate the girl. He said she was far more powerful than she looked.

Heavy metallic footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Falrau strained to listen in the artificial environment, to collect all the data she could. If it was the druid, she was either wearing heavy armor or some kind of suit. Then she heard mechanical whirring, which meant it was likely a suit, unless the girl had adopted Raub’s sensibilities about mechanical replacement of limbs. Perhaps Raub’s confrontation with her had left her similarly damaged.

She mentally braced herself for any kind of trickery. She remembered the state Raub had been in. She would have to be nimble and quick. A suit would add a layer of complexity to the encounter. As would ballistic or laser weapons. If Raub’s statements had been accurate, she could not rely upon the druid to fight fairly. Surprise would be her best tool, though the idea of catching her off guard in that manner galled.

Frankly, she wanted to talk to this druid and hear her side of the story.

The steps paused outside the door. Falrau took a step forward to give herself more room to maneuver.

The door opened. A garishly bright suit stood there.

Falrau tensed, ready to change position quickly.

The suit remained motionless. Falrau waited. She wouldn’t make a move until the door was shut again. She couldn’t allow any witnesses if she was going to make a clean getaway.

Finally, the suit stepped through the door and shut it behind her.

“So, you did come yourself,” a speaker coming from the suit said. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you? Well, you look much better than the last time I saw you.” The voice sounded bitter and angry.

Falrau narrowed her eyes. The girl knew why she was here and had mistaken her for Raub. She’d still come. Yet she did not advance.

“I am not Raub. I am his only sibling, Falrau,” she declared.

The suit was still.

Instinct kept Falrau rooted where she stood. She suspected taking the initiative could be a fatal mistake. She needed to know more.

Finally, the arms reached up slowly in a manner that did not seem threatening, removed the helmet, and triggered the suit to open. The girl stepped out. She was significantly shorter and lighter than Falrau. That surprised her. All her doubts about Raub came flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

The girl had a tightly curled mane that was loosely pulled back and tethered at the base of her skull. She looked almost relaxed, one hip jutted out and arms folded, her expression full of scorn. “You’re his brother? So, insanity runs in the family, does it?”

Falrau felt like she’d been slapped in the face. Somehow, that was the greatest possible insult. She’d never suffered anyone to call her spiteful names. And yet, she knew in her heart that for Raub, the epithet might well be deserved. She couldn’t bear being compared to him, however. She said, her voice a low warning growl, “Sister. It does not.”

The druid raised her brows. “But you’re here,” she taunted, taking a step forward and lowering into a fighting crouch. “To attempt to kidnap an innocent woman so that your insane brother can hunt me like an animal. What kind of person does that? I’ll tell you what kind: a psychopath.”

Falrau flinched but readied herself for a fight, assuming a similar stance. “You are far from innocent. Your genetics alone make you guilty.”

The girl huffed loudly as she sidestepped. “Maybe it’s just your culture that’s crazy. Because my genes are an accident of birth and have nothing whatsoever to do with who I am as a person. I didn’t even know about any of this crap until he told me. I could have gone my whole life never knowing what I am, never using my abilities at all. How could that possibly make me guilty?”

The statement rang with truth. She glanced at the suit for a microsecond, then returned to watching the girl. It seemed odd that the druid would remove it and make herself more vulnerable. “Why the suit?” she said.

The druid inched closer. They circled around the room slowly, assessing each other. “Because I’m terran and I don’t want to be recognized.”

Falrau blinked with confusion. While the Lovek didn’t participate in galactic politics, and kept outside influences to a minimum, they did keep themselves informed for a myriad of reasons. And so Falrau knew that the terran race, created by the Cunabula to be a warrior class so long ago, had finally come forward briefly a few years prior to take their place on the galactic stage.

The Lovek had traditionally considered the as-yet-undiscovered terrans to be long-lost kin. The stories always said that the terrans had refrained from entering into galactic society for the same reasons the Lovek had. That someday they’d be reunited and greet each other as brother and sister. “Terran? I was told you are drudii.”

“Apparently, I’m both. A hybrid.” The girl spread her hands and continued to circle. “What are we doing here? I didn’t come here expecting a Q&A session.”

Falrau didn’t answer. She was more perplexed than ever. Her muscles were knotted with tension. If the girl was part terran and part druid, she could be an even more formidable foe.

What was she doing here? What was Raub’s purpose?

“Your brother sure didn’t tell you much about me. Did he tell you how he kidnapped me? How he trained me, treated me like a protégée? He lied to me, over and over again, pretending to be someone else. Then he dumped me on an alien planet and told me to run, threatened people I cared about if I wouldn’t cooperate. And he hunted me. He would have killed me if I’d let him. He left me no choice but to hurt him. I didn’t want to. I did not want to hurt him.”

Falrau stopped. If the druid spoke the truth, her brother had acted dishonorably. He was the trickster, not the girl. The druid’s explanation made more sense than Raub’s had. Her description also had more detail.

And Raub had attempted to make her complicit in these deceits.

She’d let her concentration lapse for just a microsecond. When she refocused, she saw a change come over the girl’s face. She had interpreted Falrau’s sudden halt as a prelude to attack and was already moving to counter.

Falrau blocked. The girl was powerful and well trained.

They sparred, getting a feel for each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

“I didn’t want any of this,” the girl spat, and then spun, kicking high. “I was studying to be a medical doctor. Your brother abducted me. He sold my lover as a slave. He took everything from me. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I wish I had killed him. I thought I had. As long as he’s alive, he’s a threat to me and to good people everywhere. He’s a blight on the galaxy.”

Falrau concentrated on blocking and dodging only. She conserved her strength and tried to keep the girl talking. “Are there any other witnesses to his deceptions?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Several.” The girl feinted, then followed up with an unexpected and bruising blow to Falrau’s side. It was nothing she couldn’t bear.

“I wish to speak to them.”

Darcy sneered at her. “Before or after you take me prisoner?”

“Hold,” Falrau said. She took a step back and spread her arms and legs in what was commonly accepted on Loveka as a universal signal for a temporary truce.

“What?” Darcy said. But she stopped her attacks and stood staring, full of distrust.

“If what you say is true, then we have both been betrayed. I have not been a willing participant in this either. Allow me to speak with your witnesses. Thus far, my own honor is intact. I will not be a party to treachery. It is paramount that I do not act against my best interests.”

“Are you for real?” Darcy asked.

Falrau tipped her head forward slightly. “I concede.”

“You’re surrendering?”

“I am.”

Surprise flickered over the girl’s features. Then her jaw set and determination took hold again. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

Darcy held up a hand. Though she remained five steps from her, Falrau felt the blade on her thigh jiggle in its sheath. The girl flicked her fingers and the dagger went flying across the room to imbed itself in the wall. Falrau gasped. Likewise went the knives concealed at her wrist and ankle.

“How did you…”

Darcy shrugged. “Lady, I have no idea. I’m told I can manipulate electromagnetic fields. What that has to do with this, I don’t know. I’m no physicist. I just do it when I have to.”

So, the girl did have powers. Dangerous powers.

Darcy strode over to her suit and took something rope-like out of a compartment.

Falrau’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to bind me.”

“Consider it a precaution,” the girl said bluntly as she wrapped one of Falrau’s wrists and then the other, and cinched the cuffs tight. “It shouldn’t be too obvious. I’m hiding most of it in your clothes. The walk back to my ship is short.”

Falrau raised her head against the indignity. If she was wrong about this girl, she’d just fallen into a trap, though Raub had given her secret override command codes for the Vermachten if she needed to reassert control over the situation. “Will you do me the kindness of handing me my traveling case?”

The girl peered at her skeptically. “Sure.” She picked up the case and placed it in Falrau’s hands.

Falrau put both hands on the handle. It would disguise the bindings so they wouldn’t be stopped by a concerned citizen, guard, or constable. There was no need to add further complexity to this already fraught situation.

Darcy retrieved Falrau’s knives, eased herself back into the suit, and replaced the helmet on her head. She opened the door and gestured. “After you.”

17

Darcy winced. Nembrotha had exploded in a tirade upon hearing her news. She sat around the table in the dining hall off the galley with them, Selpis, Hain, and Tesserae71. The mood had already been tense, but the spluttering slug had taken it to the next level.

“Of all the foolhardy possibilities—you brought another lovek aboard? Here? Who knows what havoc she’ll wreak! She’ll kill us all while we sleep. I demand you execute her at once. It’s bad enough to learn Raub still lives and breathes. What good can come of this? They are all predators through and through. Has your experience with Raub taught you nothing, girl?”

Darcy stiffened. “First of all, don’t call me girl. I’m a woman.”

The slug lengthened their head, their comb-marked eyestalks peering at her, then slumped back down to rest on Selpis’s shoulder, their face turned away, muttering slurpily just low enough that Darcy couldn’t make out the words.

She got it. She knew why they were angry. She had no idea what she was doing either. She was making this up as she went along. “Second, no group of people are all the same. All terrans aren’t the same. All the Hymenoptera aren’t the same and they’re all brothers.” She appealed to Selpis to support her argument. “Are all Sauria the same? Do they all have the same habits, the same personalities, the same set of values?”

Selpis looked reluctant to answer. “No, they do not.”

Darcy opened her mouth to speak again, but Selpis continued. “However, broad generalities may be applied. Saurians tend to be gentle and peace-loving, for example.”

“And the Lovek tend to be murderers!” Nembrotha shouted, still facing the wall.

“But she didn’t murder me,” Darcy protested. “She didn’t even try. She seemed to want to talk, to know what really happened between Raub and me.”

“Not yet, anyway. Beware of treachery! I hope you locked her up in seven layers of chains,” Nembrotha bellowed.

“She is secured. Confined to quarters. With two guards at the door,” Darcy sighed. “The Lovek are a xenophobic people, right? Does anyone here have any experience with any lovekaan aside from Raub?”

How on Earth had she ended up defending this woman? This was all so messed up.

Collectively, the room indicated they hadn’t, with various types of head and hand gestures.

“What do you intend to do with her?” Hain asked.

Darcy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we should keep her as a hostage for now in case Raub decides to go after your homeworld. That should keep Ginnea safe.”

Nembrotha slithered down from Selpis’s shoulder onto the table. “Leave it to me. I shall secrete a torturing salve and we’ll get to the bottom of this fiasco while she writhes in agony.”

Darcy held up a hand. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“A truth serum, then,” they countered.

“Nembrotha…”

“What does she say she wants?” Hain said.

Darcy grimaced. “She says she wants to interview the witnesses to Raub’s schemes. She said her honor is still intact, that she was sent here against her will and doesn’t want to participate in his machinations if he’s been lying to her. She wants to know the truth.”

“Well, that could be promising,” Selpis said. “Perhaps she could become an ally?”

“You are far too trusting,” Nembrotha lisped imperiously. “Be sensible. This is her sibling we are talking about. Familial bonds can be very strong, even when one disagrees with their methods.”

Tesserae71 spoke up for the first time. “My own family sold my brothers and myself. Perhaps there is no love lost between them.”

“What would you like us to do, Darcy?” Selpis asked.

“An interrogation elixir should be administered first. I know just the thing—” Nembrotha exclaimed.

“If I may,” Hain said, “Do’Vela is capable of skimming the surface of the Lovek’s thoughts without her knowledge as these interviews are conducted. This would be the most scientific approach to assessing her responses and gauging her loyalties.”

“Without her consent?” Selpis asked, the folds of her upper eyelids pulling down into worried creases.

“The application of a medication could create resistance and confirmational bias,” Hain explained. “This would be noninvasive, harmless, and far more conclusive.”

“I think Hain is on the right track. Do’Vela should be able to tell if she’s lying to us,” Darcy said.

Nembrotha harrumphed.

Darcy looked at each of them in turn. “The question at this point is: will you all agree to talk to her, to tell her what you saw Raub doing?”

“I will talk to her, provided there are guards in the room,” Selpis said.

“I will as well, of course. Also, there are recordings of your training sessions with Raub,” Hain said.

Darcy frowned. “There are? We were in the dark…”

“Infrared with color enhancement. The quality of the recordings is good.”

“I will go, if it will help you,” Tessera71 said.

Darcy leaned to the side, trying to catch Nembrotha’s gaze. “Nembrotha?”

“She must be shackled to the point of mummification.”

“But no secretions of any kind,” Darcy warned.

They grumbled, “A fast-acting poison would be the best possible solution to this problem.”

“And then what?” Hain asked.

“That depends on her. As far as the rest of us, our mission remains unchanged. We’re done with our business at this port. We move on to our next target. Talus 3.”

18

Falrau was situated in a clean and comfortable room. In fact, everywhere they had passed in this ship was pristine and tidy. The people here took pride in their surroundings. She was allowed to stitch with needle and thread, though her knives and other sharp tools had been confiscated when Darcy inspected her things. Aside from the overhead lighting, there was not a single functional electronic gadget within this room; even the wall outlets appeared to have been disabled, which suited Falrau fine. Lovekaans did not need any of that.

Food and beverages were brought regularly, though the quality was lacking. Surprisingly, Darcy apologized for this and said it was all she had, even for herself. Falrau was not treated roughly or harshly, but with kindness, which she hadn’t expected, since she had essentially become a hostage.

All of this weighed on her mind. Heavily.

None of this fit Raub’s narrative of the young woman. By his account, Falrau would have been tortured and killed by now. Falrau could not imagine a scenario that made it plausible for Darcy to behave so kindly as a deception, though she admitted to herself she might be naive about an outsider’s motives.

Raub would be livid. She wondered what he would do when she didn’t return, but his manner was too unpredictable to guess. The bonds of family no longer seemed to matter to him. She may now be, in his eyes, as dead as he himself should be. She’d failed to execute his mission and he would follow through with his threat. The family would struggle to make ends meet. She decided that was for the best. Raub’s support had strings attached—strings that could garrote the family’s honor.

The family could survive without money. Without honor, nothing mattered. As long as no one on Loveka found out about any of this, the family would be spared.

If she ever returned home, she’d be forced to lie by omission. If direct questions were asked, she would be forced to explicitly lie to protect the family or to protect herself at the family’s expense. Neither option was palatable. Both came at great personal cost. Lies were supremely dishonorable.

Because of that, Falrau was beginning to accept that living in the outside might be her fate. She might never tread on Loveka again. It tore at her heart. But it might be best to protect the family in this way rather than risk the necessity of committing falsehoods.

As promised, the witnesses to Raub’s behavior came in turn to give her their testimony. The more she heard, the less she regretted her choice to surrender to Darcy Eberhardt.

Just like the people she’d encountered during her journey to the Juisuit, these people were all very strange. Meeting them in the flesh was entirely different from looking at picture books or reading a newsfeed where such diversity had seemed almost fictional.

Her thoughts were divided. These experiences were supposed to be anathema to a lovekaan, but once she got past the initial ingrained revulsion with each individual, curiosity and fascination ruled her consciousness.

Was this why the outside was so forbidden? Did the ancient Lovek know that every tradition would be challenged by outside contact? Were they right in creating this island of culture—or shortsighted?

Her first visitors had been a subdued lizard-like woman named Selpis accompanied by a pompous little worm of a creature named Nembrotha. Neither seemed comfortable in her presence. Both were skittish and anxious to leave, as though they feared she might eat them alive, much like a migrant serf hoping for a new home with a better master might behave.

Falrau noted this deliberately. She realized that their only knowledge of her species came from the same kinds of myths and legends that marked her own practical understanding of other sentients.

That this knowledge was incorrect put a shadow of doubt on her own by correlation. She redoubled her efforts to listen and understand.

Each told a story of escaping as prisoners from this very ship, both of them marked to be sold as slaves, a journey in a small vessel called a tern with Raub and Darcy, and a final scene of Raub announcing the conditions of the hunt, with their lives as collateral.

It was shameful.

People on Loveka occasionally became indentured if they came to financial ruin and sought shelter from their own head of clan, or another, when particularly desperate. They filled roles that were considered unsavory. Some clans exploited this lowest tier of society more than others, but it had always been Falrau’s objective to avoid such distasteful matters by promoting education and training among her people, like her mother before her. Those who worked within the Rau homes were paid well and given a wide variety of work. The most onerous work was a shared burden no single person had to bear alone.

Stealing people and selling them to others was a concept Raub had taken from the outside. Falrau was aggrieved to learn that the money Raub had sent her as support for the family had come from such repugnant commerce.

But like so many things, these regrets were nothing more than mist. She could not allow her eyes to be blinded by past mistakes any longer. It had been her duty to know those details, and she had chosen not to pursue them. That had been her own failure.

The want of comfort was a fog, a greedy thing that had obscured her vision. Now a cleansing wind had lifted that fog and she would not walk back into it. Her honor would not allow it. These people may be outsiders, but they deserved freedom.

She would not allow herself to be so blind ever again.

At the close of their interview, she asked Nembrotha why he’d stayed with the druid woman after he’d been freed. His answer was quick, and his little brilliantly colored stalks quivered with emotion as he declaimed, “As an imperial chemist for the Yamaah Ambassadorial Synod, I have occupied more lucrative positions and more prestigious positions, but never have I been led by a persona as courageous, tenacious, altruistic, and honest. Though she may be impetuous at times—allowing the likes of you aboard, as a case in point—she is nonetheless an inspiring and intelligent figure.”

Falrau had turned to Selpis and posed another question. “These drudii genetic traits are illegal. What do you think about her status as drudii and the immense power she must be capable of wielding?”

Selpis had considered carefully before speaking. “Historically, I understand the concern. A large group of people with such traits could be dangerous. You can see why the traits were made illegal, certainly. But that time is long in the past. Darcy is a single person and must be judged on her own faults and merits. She does not abuse the power. To my knowledge, she seldom uses it. Her daily objective is to be compassionate toward others in terrible situations—which is a rare thing indeed.”

That was a universal truth, Falrau thought.

When Tesserae71 arrived, Falrau found him to be just as exotic as the first two visitors. Once she became accustomed to his bizarre manner of speaking, she observed him with rapt attention at the effort and complexity it took to produce articulate speech with physical clacks and a bellowed hiss of air. His devotion to Darcy was apparent and his account echoed the previous two. He went on to explain how Darcy had opted to rectify Raub’s wrongs. This was no small thing.

She asked him why he was so dedicated to her. His reply was simple. “She has, from our first meeting, treated me as a person.”

Finally had come Hain, an extraordinary plant-like creature hailing from what sounded like the most peaceful planet in the galaxy.

Falrau had been taught that the evolution of sentient life required a star, a planet in a suitable orbit, water, air, and plant life. All the many animals that a carnivorous race like the Lovek might hunt would make their homes within, and gather foodstuff from, this flora. But the evolutionary process on Hain’s world had focused on this flora instead and given it sentience.

Hain, like the others, was clearly intelligent, which ran counter to all she’d been taught about outsiders. She’d been given much to contemplate this day.

Hain’s account was among the most compelling because she had served Raub for so long. Her extensive and detailed description of Raub’s deeds was chilling.

Raub’s threat against Hain’s homeworld disturbed Falrau. A race devoted to eternal peace and natural communion would be idyllic. Among her own people, those who were called to sacrifice the pleasures of the flesh to that level of devotion were revered. In the past, these wise individuals had led the way to peace on Loveka and forever changed their culture for the better.

It had taken centuries for their work to bear fruit, but the people had ultimately been convinced to trust a judicial system to settle their disputes and to find an outlet for their innate aggression in sporting competition. In the past, minor squabbles over the use of hunting grounds had often led to all-out wars, decimating the population again and again. Her own family lineage was nearly wiped out more than once in those dark times.

The world Hain described—a world entirely without technology or artificial environments, completely at one with nature—was almost beyond belief. Experiencing the natural world was the most exciting aspect of the daily hunt. The connection to the natural world was strong among her people. Her senses were fullest when she was outdoors; she felt the most alive and serene when not confined inside.

Hain’s people were not lovekaan. It was commonly accepted as truth on Loveka that this meant they were lesser. But she could not look at this woodland creature and say that concept was true. If the Lovek knew of Ginnea, they would consider it a sacred place. It was unconscionable to consider exploiting that world or harming its people.

Hain had brought with her a flexible screen which she mounted to the wall. On it, she displayed the financial aspects of Raub’s long-term dealings in the slave trade and discussed how he had used this occupation as a means to fund his search for hidden drudii. He had labored for decades at this goal before finally finding Darcy Eberhardt.

She also showed Falrau the sheer extent of recorded footage of her brother’s interactions with Darcy, and invited her to select recordings at random to prove they were all real. Falrau watched her brother training the druid. Just as Darcy had said, his manner was genial and helpful. Falrau knew recordings could be altered, but this sheer volume?

And she knew her brother well—his voice, his manner. And his obsession.

Setting aside the matter of the title of Kappyr, Falrau didn’t think any lovek could condone treating another person as a student and then turning against them without provocation, to the point of planning murder. It twisted the instruction into something evil. Teaching was meant to elevate the student, not to destroy her.

She viewed the final recordings with horrified interest, as the druid had progressed quite far in a short amount of time, but Falrau was appalled to realize that was as far as the girl had been allowed to go. Falrau judged Darcy’s combat skills to barely match that of a young adult—certainly not a competent opponent for an accomplished fighter like Raub. What contorted logic had he used to deem this acceptable? Simply because she was part druid? Could that possibly make up for the lack?

Hain also confirmed Darcy’s other assertion, that she knew nothing of her genetic legacy until she was told on this very ship. And there were also intriguing recordings of Darcy learning to master this technologically derived internal energy source on her own.

Hain’s decision to side with Darcy despite the overt threats against her people was telling. When given a choice of where to place her loyalty, she had chosen the druid. Falrau asked her why she had done it.

“When I left my planet, I was curious and naive. I did not know right from wrong. Such concepts did not exist for me yet. They were not part of my lived experience, as they were not needed. But I have learned them now. Raub’s requirements of me left me in despair. Darcy Eberhardt gives me hope.”

And she left shortly after that.

Falrau remained unmoving for some time, considering all of their words. The evidence was damning. And what reason did she have to doubt any of it? Simply because of blood? Was that enough? Were she called upon to act as an impartial judge in this case, how would she rule? Her lack of knowledge of the galaxy now seemed a hindrance.

Her scalp prickled. She lifted her hands to her mane absently as she continued to think. But soon, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. It grew deeper, more insistent. She realized with a start that the source was not within her mane at all but inside her mind.

“What is this?” she said aloud as she rose from the chair and looked around the room for the source of the sensation, for the first time fearing for her well-being in this place.

An answer came, but not from a voice that her ears could hear. The voice was internal and yet not her own. “Don’t be afraid—I won’t hurt you. Do you want to talk to me, too? I’m also a witness.”

Her pulse quickened. She dropped into a wary stance, every sense on alert. “How is this possible?”

“Oh—don’t you know about the Kubodera?”

The name triggered a memory. A history lesson. Of the times when the hunt for the title of Kappyr dominated the lectures. A species used for interstellar travel by necessity. That could read minds. It hit her like a blow and she physically flinched, disconcerted by her own ignorance. Of course this ship—every interstellar ship—would have one of these creatures on board. How had she not thought of this before?

Suddenly, this felt like a much more dangerous place. She looked wildly at the door, escape options flitting through her thoughts. “Are you inside my mind?” she asked aloud.

The answer felt inexplicably like someone genuinely smiling. It put her off balance. “Only a little. It’s like watching someone’s facial expressions, I think. From what I can gather, anyway, from talking to people, that’s what it seems like. I feel your mood, and your most dominant thoughts are easy to figure out like that. I like talking to people. It’s nice.”

Falrau sat back down. Fright and loathing warred with her inquisitiveness for many long moments. This was another temptation from the outside. It did not seem harmful, but she couldn’t be certain her conclusions were accurate. After a time, curiosity won and she focused on thinking words toward this person instead of speaking them. “Can you hear this?”

“Yes! Very good! You’re very quick!”

The praise made her knit her brow in confusion. It felt so joyful. The contrast with her own burgeoning fear was discordant. “But then you know all of me? My every impulse?”

“I wouldn’t do that unless you asked me to. That’s kind of a bad idea, I think, because people are pretty complex. Their brains zoom around. You don’t want me to, do you? Because I’m too busy to do that right now, or even, ever, really. I’ve got a lot of duties. I fly the ship, you know? That would require most of my focus, so if you wanted to do that, I’d need you to be really close or touching me. Other kuboderans can probably do a lot more. I’m young and still learning. But we can talk. That’s easy.”

“I—no. No, I don’t want that.”

“Okay. Good.”

There was silence. Falrau filled it with assessing her own mental state, feeling for the edges of this strange contact, but it was too amorphous.

Now she felt a disconcerting feeling like she was always being watched in a way that she could not hide from. She didn’t like the idea of never being alone. But then she reasoned that most prisoners would be watched. She had thought it odd that they’d left her alone in this room, though presumably there were guards outside the door, and perhaps even cameras inside the room she couldn’t see.

This was a different kind of surveillance, and she had to assume they’d been using it from the start. It, like the myriad of technology they had on the ship, would be a tool at their disposal. They’d be foolish not to use the best tools they had. Wouldn’t she do the same in Darcy’s place?

She focused her thoughts anew. Tentatively she said, “Are you still there?”

“Of course! We can talk any time you like. I’m always here. I rotate my cerebellums through rest periods, so some part of me is always awake.”

Falrau blinked, starting to notice images forming behind her eyes, like memories, as the creature spoke. “I see. And do you have a name?”

“My name is Do’Vela. Actually, it’s just Vela. The Do part was my rank in the sectilian fleet before pirates captured my ship. Then I was sold to Raub and installed on this ship. That was a long time ago.”

“So you worked for my brother directly? Did he communicate with you this way?”

“Oh, no. Never. When I was first installed on this ship, it was crewed by grenpaj. They weren’t very nice to me. I was very sad. No one talked to me, you see? And I was a little bit sick. Then Hain stole the ship from them and things got much better. She gave me more room and clean water and she talked to me.”

There were more images now, as the creature spoke. Falrau focused hard and glimpsed visions of the pitiful conditions Do’Vela described and then felt Do’Vela’s relief when Hain took over the ship and made her life more bearable. Falrau could see that Hain ended the tyranny of starvation these grenpaj had imposed—and in that moment realized that this was the species that Nokk, Raub’s servant, belonged to. Falrau found that her own opinions of that beast aligned with Do’Vela’s experience with that species. All of this information, passing to her in microseconds, led to a comprehension of another individual’s plight that she’d never experienced before. A new level of empathy.

“But my brother was on this ship?”

“After Hain stole it, yes. But he kept to himself. He made Hain be in charge. He told her what to do and she told everyone else. I knew about that, but everyone else just thought she was the captain.”

Falrau found herself nodding as though this Vela could see her. She could see just how that had worked. No further explanation was needed with this unique form of communication. Now she felt compelled to learn more from this most interesting creature. “And you say you are a witness? What would you like to tell me?”

“Showing you would be easier, if you think you’re ready?”

She steeled herself, going rigid with anticipation. “All right. I believe I am.”

“I’ll go as slow as I can. Please tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

True to her word, Vela began the exposition slowly. A series of vignettes formed in Falrau’s mind. She quickly realized these were many viewpoints over a timeline of Vela’s life on this ship as she experienced the people she had contact with. Some of these people were more like sketches. Falrau felt only the most surface impulses and emotions. Others, the ones Vela seemed to know more deeply, were richer and more nuanced.

First Vela showed her the grenpaj and their cruelty. Then the day Hain came and convinced Vela to escape with her. Their brief time alone together as Hain rebuilt Vela’s enclosure and worked to rebuild her health. The closeness they felt as they explored the universe and Hain enrolled in advanced schooling. The day Raub found them and reclaimed his ship. Things were still better for Vela at that point, but for Hain this was a terrible time. The tenuous working relationship with her brother. The terrible things he required of Hain.

Years of experiences washed over her. She sat, slack-jawed, and allowed them to flow unhindered. Trembling at times because of the terrible emotions.

Then came Darcy. Like for Raub, Vela had only the most superficial impressions of the young woman’s mind. They had not yet spoken to each other at that stage. And yet, this was still a great deal of information. Falrau’s respect for the young woman grew stronger, as fleeting impressions of her mental state throughout her time as a captive on this ship formed in Falrau’s mind.

The deluge of information suddenly stopped. “That is my testimony. That is what I saw,” Vela told her.

Falrau took a moment to compose herself. “I… Thank you.”

“If you ever want to talk again, just search for this feeling and call to me.”

She wasn’t certain she’d ever truly want to repeat such an experience, but something compelled her to say, “I will, Vela.”

And with that, she was alone again. Not, perhaps, as alone as she’d believed herself to be before she knew of the kuboderan, but the presence in her mind was gone.

Though her body had done little work this day, her mind felt great fatigue. Falrau eased herself onto the small bed though the hour was uncharacteristically early for her to do such a thing. And yet she could not stop her mind from racing.

Arriving at a conclusion was simple but devastating.

The evidence presented to her through the course of the day did not contradict what she knew of her brother. He was a disgrace to the family, to their world.

Raub had embraced the worst parts of the outside to fuel his obsession with gaining the title of Kappyr. He had abjured his honor, molded his life around that single purpose, sacrificing any and all that stood in his path.

The seeds of this outcome had always been there. It was difficult to admit, but she knew that was true. Some part of her had always feared what he might become. That fear had doubled when he had left Loveka for the outside.

These people were his victims.

And she had nearly colluded with him in this.

She lay on the bed, and quietly, she mourned.

19

Hain arrived on the bridge early. They had jumped just outside the Talus system and were approaching the asteroid that held the compound Darcy intended to breach on a course vertical to the plane of the system and coming in slowly. As soon as they were within sensor range, they would begin intense surveillance.

There was no way of knowing what sort of defenses the asteroid would have and how soon those would be triggered. Based on the descriptions Hain had gleaned, this could be a difficult fight involving every ship of their fleet, though those descriptions were incomplete. They would be at a disadvantage once they gained entry. Asteroids were often riddled with narrow tunnels that would provide plenty of cover for those who knew them well. But first they’d have to get through any perimeter security.

Darcy arrived soon after. Hain rose from the central command chair, but Darcy remained standing.

“Captain on the bridge,” Darcy6 called out.

It never ceased to amaze Hain how well Darcy took Raub’s insult—naming an entire cadre of hymenoptera after her. Instead of being insulted, she used the now common moniker to create community. And now the majority of that species, if not all, honored her as their queen.

The rest of Darcy’s trusted inner circle showed up as well, gathering at the rear of the room as the mixed bridge crew, hymenoptera and new recruits, continued to work. The beginnings of intel were trickling in from Talus 3.

Darcy was stiff with resolve. She turned her gaze on them each in turn. “Do’Vela tells me you’ve each had a chance to talk to Falrau.”

“And what did the kuboderan determine about her?” Nembrotha asked.

Darcy’s lips tightened. “That she’s nothing like him. She’s disgusted with him.”

This statement was met with silence.

Hain had already conferred with Do’Vela herself on the matter and found herself surprised as she reviewed Falrau’s reactions with the navigator. Falrau had the same egocentric conceit as Raub, but her value system was founded in a very different base. Hain believed Darcy’s statement was accurate, but remained wary.

“What will you do with her?” Nembrotha demanded.

Darcy looked pained. “She’s not guilty of any crime.”

Nembrotha thinned, stretching out from Selpis’s shoulder toward Darcy. “You will release her? That’s madness!”

“She may return to him and report on our situation,” Selpis said.

“I don’t think she will,” Darcy replied.

Hain said, “What will Raub do when she doesn’t come back to him?”

Darcy exhaled loudly. “I don’t know. But we can expect him to send others or come himself. We should be ready for anything. We’ll continue to train hard, practice our simulations.” She considered for a moment. “Maybe we should go to him and end this.”

Nembrotha shrank back down and shuddered. “Use her as bait,” they announced, their slushy voice dripping with anger.

“She would have to agree to that,” Darcy said.

“Pishposh. It would be a mild act compared to his deeds,” Nembrotha declared.

The door to the bridge opened and two hymenoptera came through with shock sticks, followed by Falrau and four of Darcy’s recruits, heavily armed.

Tesserae71 chirruped in dismay.

“Bah,” Nembrotha groused. “She looks just like him. You’d be well in your rights to kill her in revenge.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “What good would that do?”

The Baryanian did not reply.

One of the bridge crew stood, a miremon named Goab. “Captain, our initial scans show no defenses are active. We detect no atmosphere.”

Hain moved to his console to see the data for herself. She was surprised to see she interpreted the results the same way. “The compound is likely deep inside the asteroid and well shielded. Keep scanning.”

“May I approach?” Falrau said. Her voice and her gaze were direct and confident.

Hain glanced at Darcy, a surge of protective feelings welling up. She could not trust, despite what Do’Vela had concluded. She moved to place herself between the Lovek and the human.

Darcy nodded at the guards.

Falrau moved slowly. She crossed the short distance, sidestepping around Hain to stand in front of Darcy. She lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head. “Though he still breathes, my brother is dead according to the law of my world. As the victor in the conflict between the two of you, you are now sole owner of his worldly goods, most of which you already posses. Were you lovekaan, you would take his place as head of family. As you are not, I have but one thing left to give you. My fealty.”

As one, all of them connected with Do’Vela, seeking the veracity of the claim.

Do’Vela consciously suppressed a chortle and struggled to achieve solemnity, the naughty little kuboderan. She was always so full of joy, it was hard for her to be serious. “Her intentions and her vocalizations match. She is sincere, my friends.”

Darcy reached out a hand to Falrau.

Falrau blinked in confusion and rose, then awkwardly clasped her hand with Darcy.

“When we finish this mission, I can take you back to Loveka if you want.”

Falrau raised her chin. “While I dearly wish to return, I respectfully decline this offer. I will fight beside you to right the wrongs of my brother and others like him.”

Soft, disconcerted clacking from the bridge hymenoptera and Tesserae71 filled the silence.

“Oh, bother,” Nembrotha grumbled in disgust. “Someone wake me up from this nightmare.”

20

Darcy watched the bridge crew at work. She had somehow become the de facto leader of this diverse bunch of people, and she’d learned a tremendous amount in a very short span of time.

The rest of the fleet was standing by at a safe distance. The Vermachten was the ship best suited for disarming the facility. But they kept getting closer and none of the initial information gathered made any sense. There were very few life signs, and while they could detect large spaces inside the asteroid, those rooms did not appear to hold atmosphere.

“Perhaps they’ve abandoned this as their primary base?” Selpis said from the communications station she was monitoring.

Nembrotha pecked at keys with one of his sensory arms. “Someone with a pirate bent may have gotten to them first and cleaned them out.”

Darcy nodded. Everyone was doing their part, but there was a frosty atmosphere on the bridge. No one was happy about Darcy’s decision regarding Falrau. She probably should have told them what she was going to do ahead of time instead of surprising them, but it wouldn’t have changed things much.

They had a right to be upset. It was upsetting. Darcy wasn’t sure it was the right move, but she’d made it. And the guards were staying for now. Falrau stood at the back, attentive but relaxed.

Darcy had made sure that some of her most trusted people were on the bridge for this shift. Darcy6, one of the Hymenoptera she’d cared for as an egg and hand-fed as a newborn, was working the weapons station. Selpis and Nembrotha were on internal operations and comms. Goab was handling sensors. He was a very serious guy and missed nothing, despite the portable fog machine he ran constantly to keep his peach-colored skin, which was covered in undulating tendrils, moist. He didn’t wear clothes, but somehow that wasn’t weird. There weren’t any obvious naked bits.

“They’ve just scanned us. Ports are opening,” Goab called out.

“On screen,” Darcy said.

Someone adjusted the cameras to bring the ports up on the viewscreen.

“They’re releasing drones,” Goab said.

Hain leaned forward against one of the consoles. “It’s a standard automated system.”

“Fire lasers,” Darcy ordered.

“I count six drones,” Goab said. “They’re not moving very fast.”

Darcy held her breath. The fight was beginning.

“Firing lasers,” Darcy6 clacked.

There was a tense moment and lots of confusion as Hain and Do’Vela along with Darcy6 coordinated their efforts to zoom around and pick off each drone. Darcy held on to the back of the command chair because the artificial gravity couldn’t completely compensate for the quick turns. Everyone on the bridge shifted from side to side with each bank. From Darcy’s perspective, looking at the viewscreen, they careened around crazily and the things blew up. The drones got off a few shots before they were all destroyed, but most were shot down just as they left their exit ports. They’d been moving sluggishly; even Darcy could tell that.

“Any damage to the ship?” Darcy asked.

“Nothing significant, Captain,” Goab replied. “Easily fixed in a well-stocked port. No system is compromised.”

“Initiate docking sequence,” Darcy said out loud, though it was Do’Vela who would do that work. “That’s it?” Darcy asked. “That can’t be it.”

“I, too, expected more,” Hain said, her eyes still locked on the sensor console.

“There’s no atmosphere on the other side of that dock,” Goab said.

Darcy frowned. “Send the cutting team in environmental gear.”

“This is too easy,” Nembrotha announced.

Selpis turned. “The team is on its way, Captain.”

Darcy headed for the door. “I’m going to go suit up. Call in the other teams.”

Falrau stepped in her path. “May I join you?”

“That’s a terrible idea!” Nembrotha shouted.

Darcy searched her gut feelings. She raised a brow. “If it comes down to a fight, will you do more than block?”

A savage smile came over her face. “I will. Unlike our first encounter, this is clearly an honorable conflict.”

Darcy shuddered internally but didn’t back down. It was better to know sooner rather than later if Falrau had fooled Do’Vela. She wasn’t going to give her full run of the ship just yet. But this would be a good test.

Hain said from behind her, “Captain I must protest.”

“This is my call,” Darcy said, and waved at the six-person team guarding Falrau to come along.

Darcy put on the pink ontopo suit and depolarized the faceplate so it was transparent instead of opaque the way she normally wore it, so her team could see her face. The suit was growing on her. It fit like a glove. And it wouldn’t hurt for her people to know where she was at all times since the crew’s suits were all black. She’d seen that the merchant had been correct about it being a popular color for ontopoans during her brief visit on Ivid. That strengthened her faith in both the merchant and the suit. She’d have to pay him another visit sometime.

Falrau put on one of the ship’s stock suits, probably the one Raub had worn, if he’d ever used one. Three of Falrau’s guards volunteered to go along. So far, she’d never had to order someone to do something unpleasant. They just offered their services. They knew, without her having to say a word, that they’d be watching Falrau more than anything else.

It was creepy how much Falrau looked like Raub. When Darcy had first opened the door to their initial meeting, her heart had stopped and she’d felt the urge to turn and run. They were the same height and shape, the same coloring. There were differences between them, but every time she looked at Falrau, she found herself freaking out for half a second before she remembered they were not the same person.

When Darcy and her team arrived at the docking port, the cutting team was just finishing. Two people were making the final cuts while two others packed up the rest of their tools and moved them back out of the way.

The metal door fell slowly and clattered to the floor, bouncing around a few times. The gravity was low because the asteroid was so small. Inside was an airlock, very dimly lit.

“Emergency lighting,” Hain said. She’d decided at the last minute to go along, leaving Selpis in charge on the bridge. Hain wore her light custom suit. She could tolerate vacuum for some time without protection. Apparently, she could just close her stomata and operate on stored energy. But without a suit, she wouldn’t be able to speak.

“Okay, tech team. Your turn,” Darcy said.

The cutting team waited at the back of their group in case they were needed again. But they had access to internal consoles now, and Hain was confident their people had the skills to hack in and open the airlock. Gaining control of as many systems as early as possible was a good idea.

The tech team quickly concluded that emergency systems were on because main systems were offline. And emergency power was running low. That explained why the defense had been minimal. The drones had their own power sources. It was the only defense still functional.

Parp, a nintergertahunt with chalky white skin and hair who headed the tech team, motioned for her to come closer. “Captain, there is life support only in one small area.” He pointed at a location on a schematic of the base. “And that won’t last long. Maybe thirty to thirty-five standard days.”

Hain appeared at Darcy’s side. “That confirms the data the sensors showed.”

The team managed to get the door open by giving a little power to local controls, but that was all they could do. They had to pry the door open with brute strength.

Inside was inky black. Everyone activated their head and body lamps. The light revealed what looked like a cave. Unfinished rock walls, floor, and ceiling.

“Keep an eye on the life signs and let me know if they leave that area,” Darcy told the tech team.

Parp said, “I don’t think they can. It seems there was a catastrophic event. I believe they are stuck there with no way out. See here.” He pointed at the tablet again. “The hangar bay is on the other side of the compound. If they don’t have suits in there, they’re not going anywhere.”

Darcy scowled. “Why would they build it like that?”

“A place like this? This wasn’t tunneled and constructed by pros. This was a DIY installation with a couple of commercial airlocks thrown on. There are no construction codes in an uninhabited system, Captain.”

“So, that probably explains the failure and the fact that they’re trapped,” Darcy said.

“Exactly. It was cheap to build.”

“And the cost difference may have been paid in lives,” Darcy replied. She began to worry less about an upcoming fight and more that they were going to find something gruesome and no one to save.

“I recommend that someone bring down a portable generator so we can get at least one computer station online and get what data we can,” Parp said.

“Do it,” Darcy answered. To the rest of the team she said, “Stay alert. This could still be a trap. Let’s move in.”

They bounced along the narrow tunnel in the low g until it opened up into a vast room with a low ceiling. It was quiet as a tomb. Their movements didn’t make any sound. Darcy couldn’t hear anything but her own body rustling inside the suit and the occasional cough or throat-clearing of one of her team members inside their suits own over the comm system.

The first thing Darcy saw was her light reflecting off of something like glass. Her view widened, and she could see that was from a series of large boxy shapes set in rows. As she drew closer to one of them, her light flashed over a face set in a rictus of agony against the glass. It was a species she didn’t know, with fingers curled like they’d been clawing at the wall. She halted, frozen with shock. She’d half-expected this, but that didn’t diminish the impact. “Rest in peace,” she murmured, and moved on. That image was going to haunt her for some time, she was sure.

It was quickly evident that there were hundreds of these six-sided transparent boxes, like hamster cages for people, set back to back in rows that went on and on. Each one, placed directly on the stone floor, contained a single individual. As her teams moved through, they verified that very few of them were vacant. There were a few people, probably guards, scattered throughout in between the cages. All of them seemed to have suddenly died of asphyxiation.

“Judging by the level of desiccation, this was not recent,” Hain said as she bent over a corpse lying on the stone.

Darcy didn’t want to know how Hain came by that kind of knowledge, so she didn’t ask.

They arrived at an office. It wasn’t far from the area where there were still life signs. That made her nervous as she watched the team set up the generator. She set someone to the task of doing nothing but watching those life signs. She turned to Parp. It probably wasn’t necessary to say, but she said it anyway. “Don’t let the environmental systems have any power.”

Parp nodded. “Don’t worry. This generator doesn’t have enough power to get air back in here.”

Everyone was grim. She knew all of the rescued slaves had to be thinking about how easily those corpses could have been them. She knew she was. She’d broken into a cold, clammy sweat inside the suit, despite its superior environmental controls.

She closed her eyes and prayed, briefly, to God, the universe, any higher being that might be listening, that Adam wasn’t among the dead, that no human was. It was selfish and she didn’t care. She tried not to think about him dying, gasping for nonexistent air, but she couldn’t stop the thoughts. There was nothing to distract her from them.

Darcy surveyed the crew, calmly waiting, spread through the room. Falrau was near the back with her guards. Darcy met her eyes, briefly. It was hard to tell through the visor of the suit, but it seemed like Falrau had a sad expression on her face. It shocked her because it was an expression wholly different from anything she’d ever seen on Raub’s face.

Parp stood up. “We’ve got it, Captain. A backup of everything on their intranet. It’ll take some time to find the data we want from this. There’s a lot of it.”

That had been fast.

“Okay. Recommendations? How do we get them out safely?”

Parp looked incredulous. As Darcy turned, she could see everyone did.

Falrau took a step forward. “With all due respect, Captain, why would you try to save this pless? They must be evil. Pure evil, to do a thing such as this.”

Darcy stared Falrau down. “We don’t kill. We don’t leave people to die, no matter who they are. We relocate. We make their lives hard so they think twice about going down the same path. Besides, these people just worked here. Yes, they should have found better jobs, but they probably aren’t the ones who built this place or stocked it.” She looked around at the rest of her teams. “And think about it—if some of them moved quickly, they may have saved a few of their prisoners. The people left alive could be a mix of staff and slaves. I won’t leave them behind.”

Parp was scratching his helmet, then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. “Opening the door will evacuate all the air. They’ll probably pass out. It will take the system a few minutes to refill the rooms. I can try to boost that so it doesn’t take so long that they’ll die. Then they’ll just wake up. If you go in quickly and take enough suits with you, you could get them out safely.”

Darcy nodded. “That sounds like it should work. There probably isn’t any other way. Get some people down here with some suits.”

“Aye.”

They had to wait a while as suits were brought in from other ships. In the meantime, Darcy had Parp searching for a list of the cells’ occupants, and Hain instructed the rest of the tech team to get the intercom system working so they could communicate with the people stuck in the small section. Some of the crew volunteered to move through the aisles, to document the dead by species and gender as best they could. They’d cross-reference everyone carefully in case the people still alive tried to pose as slaves themselves. Everyone else milled around quietly. The mood was somber out of respect for those who had died there.

Parp waved Darcy over. “Their files are heavily encrypted.” He grimaced and shook his head. “We don’t have anyone skilled with breaking this level of stuff. I do know someone who might be able to do the job. It might take a while.”

“Do it,” Darcy said. “Pay them well. If any human was ever here, I need to know.”

21

Adam woke less frequently now. When he did, he knew two things: there would be pain and his unseen visitor would come to him eventually.

The visitor had not given a name and did not answer when Adam asked for it. He said he was undergoing the same surgeries but the visitor was recovering faster and they did not find it necessary to confine him so strictly. There was no way out of this place; of that, he spoke with certainty.

Adam’s eyes remained covered. Though they still ached, other torments dominated his body now. And he was having trouble remembering. His recollections of his life before this place were like fleeting wisps he couldn’t grab hold of.

Sometimes, he remembered Darcy.

Images of her curled up with books, her brow furrowed, working so hard… or laughing, her whole face transforming with pleasure… eating some new food with gusto, her eyes bulging with surprise… But those few memories seemed like a peaceful dream in a nightmarish reality. It didn’t seem real. She didn’t seem real. And when he thought that, he sobbed. Because that was where he wanted to be. This place was not supposed to be… for him. He should be with her. In that pleasant place.

If she were here, she would fight like a mama bear to stop this. It wouldn’t even be happening because she simply wouldn’t allow it. She was a caretaker. A fighter. A force of nature. Fierce when necessary, but so freely loving and full of goodness. Of light. That was what he loved about her.

Or thought he did, in that dream.

If she was real… somewhere… surely, she wouldn’t even want him anymore. He was broken now. Beyond her help.

But why didn’t she come?

Oh, God. That wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. She was something he imagined to try to stay sane. No one was going to rescue him from this. It was a never-ending torture.

All there was… was now. The agony of now.

He was grateful there was someone real to talk to. Someone there with him who shared this.

Adam had been awake for some time. His burning and severed nerves monopolized his thoughts. He longed for the stranger to come, to distract him with the spoken word. Nothing else seemed real anymore.

The stranger always brought some comfort. Some tidbit of real food, an extra blanket, a sip of water to soothe his parched throat. And when he left, Adam would slip away again into nothingness for a time, which was a welcome blessing. He didn’t know why this man did these things for him, but he was glad of it.

He heard sounds and prayed fervently it was his new friend.

“Adam, can you feel your right arm?”

It was him. Adam’s frown smoothed out into something more peaceful. “Yes. It feels strange,” he said hesitantly as the realization manifested verbally.

“Can you move your fingers?”

Adam moved them against each other briefly. It took a lot of effort. They felt strange, like he was moving someone else’s fingers. “Something’s not right,” he whispered.

“It will be in time. They are improving you. That isn’t easy, you know. You must be strong and accept it. You will benefit from this.”

That was hard to believe.

Some skepticism must have played out over his face.

“Trust me,” the stranger said. “Have I ever hurt you?”

“No,” Adam replied. He didn’t want to insult the man. He was so grateful for his presence. He should trust the man. He had no reason not to.

“Do you remember why you’re here?” the voice asked.

It was such a simple question. How could he not know the answer? Was there a why? Was there meaning to this? “No,” he replied, his bewilderment filling that small word. Dread welled up inside him. A fleeting feeling of déjà vu flickered through him along with unease.

“You were left behind. Abandoned. It made you vulnerable. Then they found you. Us.”

He felt abandoned. That seemed to fit. A gaping maw of despair opened inside him. He wished he could remember… but there were no details to grasp. His weary mind stopped looking into the swirl of memory.

But the voice kept on. “We’ve talked about this before.”

They had? It all ran together. The suffering, the silence, the long dark. And his friend.

“I told you who did this to you, who left you for dead.”

A wave of nausea came over him. He resisted, focusing on keeping his stomach contents down. His lower lip trembled. He didn’t want to think about this. Why would his friend insist on talking about this with him?

“I was there, Adam.” The voice was so sure, so kind. “You were too.”

“No, I—”

“You have to remember if you’re to heal properly. You must accept it.”

Adam felt his face scrunch up. No. This wasn’t right. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want to do this again.

“Don’t you want to get better?”

He wanted that more than anything. It would be an escape. Rescue. “I do.” But his voice was still unsure…

“She abandoned me too, Adam. Bleeding my life’s blood all over the ground. A gaping hole in my chest. My arm and leg shriveled to nothing. Blind. Weak. Injured. Dying. She hurt me. Then she left me to die.”

She wouldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t do that.

Adam tried so desperately to hold on to that thought. It was so hard. He felt tears escaping his eyes as he fought for a moment of clarity.

It was sand between his fingers.

She wouldn’t do that. But he only thought those words. He couldn’t say them aloud. He couldn’t deny his friend’s truth. What if the man never came back and he was left here to face the pain alone?

“She left you behind, too. The same way. Broken and dying. This is why you’re here. Why they have to fix you. You were damaged almost beyond saving, just like me. They’re making us whole again, piece by piece. Saving us. After this we can go on again.”

“And the pain will be gone?” Adam choked out.

“Forever” was the answer, firm and sure.

That would be such a gift.

“But you have to remember. You need to heal yourself. You need to make the pain go away.”

“But she…” He couldn’t say it. She loved him. He loved her. Why would she do that?

He couldn’t remember.

His body began to tremble with the effort.

“If you say her name, it will help you.” The voice was so calm and assured, whereas Adam felt nothing but anxiety and confusion. His friend seemed to know what Adam did not.

A thought hovered above all the others, stabbing at him. Perhaps he had not been wrong. He was being punished for a crime. He must have hurt her so bad for her to do this to him. To let this happen. How could he have done something that terrible?

“Say her name.”

Hadn’t they done this before?

Inarticulate sounds burst from his mouth in a scream of denial and horror. He felt droplets of spittle land like rain on his face.

His friend was so patient. He remained unruffled.

“Who did this to you, Adam?”

He inexplicably filled with rage, thrashing against his restraints.

“Darcy did this,” he thundered.

And, inside, only a small part of him was surprised.

A small prick.

The shroud of pain relief and sleep instantly enveloped him.

22

Darcy stood in front of a camera-and-monitor setup one cave chamber over from where the survivors were trapped. She’d made her face plate opaque again and used the small ocular screens inside like she always did when she dealt with anyone who wasn’t a crew member. It wouldn’t be a good idea for these prison guards to recognize her.

A diverse mix of species stood crowded around the camera on the other end. One thing they had in common was their collective expression—hostile.

Darcy didn’t bother with any preamble or introductions. “We’re going to get you out. I’m coming in with suits. You might lose consciousness briefly, but we’ll do everything we can to keep you safe during the process.”

“No.” A female vernac dominated the front and center of the group. Her shiny orange-brown skin was pebbled with raised bumps in geometric patterns. Darcy had seen vernacs before. She didn’t know if the bumps were intentionally made, along the lines of tattoos and body piercings, or if they were natural, but every vernac she’d come across had them in some variation.

“No?” Darcy asked.

“Leave. Your help isn’t wanted.” The word help was sneered.

They were suspicious. Probably not without cause. Something bad had happened to get them in this situation, after all.

“Do you have someone on the way to get you out?” Darcy asked.

The question was met with a dull stare.

“You only have about thirty standard days of air left,” Darcy said.

Silence and more unfriendly glaring.

“You’ve been in there a long time. If no one has come for you by now, they’re not coming.”

“You’re here to steal from us,” the vernac said, curling her thin lip.

Darcy huffed with raised brows. “There’s nothing here to steal.”

“There’s nothing out there to steal,” the vernac replied.

“You’d rather die in there than be saved?”

The vernac’s gaze didn’t waver, but Darcy noted a few others looking nervous, their eyes shifting around. A couple looked frightened.

Darcy shook her head. “Look, maybe in your line of work you don’t meet genuinely nice people very often, but know that I’m coming in with no intention of hurting anyone. I’m going to rescue you, whether you like it or not.”

The vernac’s eyes narrowed. “We recognized your ship, though you hide your face from us. The Vermachten is well known as our enemy. We know your intentions. We will fight you.”

Darcy waved at the screen dismissively and turned away. “Cut the connection.” The reputation the Vermachten had accrued by association as Darcy had reported slaving operations to local authorities early on was still biting back. It rankled. She wasn’t going to waste any more time arguing with them.

Like always, Darcy called for volunteers to carry in the suits. They strapped them on their backs with thick bungee-type cords, five to a person, leaving their hands free in case the vernac wasn’t bluffing. In the low gravity, this wasn’t a heavy burden, just bulk. Seven people volunteered, including Falrau and Hain.

Darcy considered telling Falrau to stay, but she needed the extra body. She checked in briefly with Do’Vela to confirm that Falrau’s intentions were still in line with her spoken word. Do’Vela assured her that they were. Darcy trusted the sea creature and decided to let this play out, let Falrau prove herself, sooner rather than later.

When they were ready, Darcy motioned to Parp, who was already standing by with his generator connected to the system. “Open it up.”

“Aye.” He tapped his tablet then gestured at the door. “It’s unlocked.”

Darcy pressed the door control. Nothing happened. She pressed it again, longer and harder this time. Still nothing.

She looked at Parp. He was already working on his tablet. He turned the screen around to show her a camera view from the inside. “They’re holding it closed, Captain.”

Darcy cursed under her breath. It came out a strange mixture of Mensententia and English for which there was no mensententic equivalent. She’d gotten her hopes up that this stage of the operation would be as easy as the hymenoptera raid. She felt impatient, but they would have to be careful so no one got hurt. “Recommendations?”

Parp frowned. “If we damage the door, it won’t hold air.”

Tech guys in space were equally good at stating the obvious as those on Earth. No one else had any suggestions. She looked at her group. Most of their suits were powered, so they should be able to produce more force than the group on the other side. “All right. It’s a game of tug-of-war, then,” she said, surprised that concept translated cleanly. “Be careful.”

Parp held up a hand and disappeared into the office area. He came back with a few random objects, stuff that could be office supplies and instrument casings. “Give me just a moment,” he said. Then he applied a paste to the stuff he’d found and held each item for a few seconds each against the door to several spots on the leading edge. “It’s a strong adhesive, instant bonding. These will give you something to push against.”

Darcy smiled. “Good thinking, Parp. On Earth, we’d call you MacGyver. It’s quite a compliment.”

The nintergertahunt flushed pink inside his suit, clearly happy to be noticed. Darcy chuckled to herself.

Darcy levered herself at an angle and several other people joined her. “Ready? Start slow and build up pressure. Push.”

Those inside must have expected this. They were managing a lot of force on the door.

“Harder, harder…” she said slowly.

As soon as there was a crack in the seal, the door gave way and a rush of air pushed lightly against Darcy. The door vibrated with the air exchange. She let go and the door slid open. Immediately, the vernac charged and knocked into her, making her stumble backward. Darcy wrapped her arms around the vernac and held on, staggering forward across the threshold while trying to stay upright in the low g.

Similar struggles were taking place around her. It was a strange scene. There might have been screaming and other noises if there’d been any air left to carry them, but it played out like a silent film of open mouths and fast dying rage.

“Get them inside and get that door closed,” she ordered.

A laser was trained on her head for a moment. She ducked and swung around, pulling the vernac with her. Internal warning systems on the suit went berserk, but the seal on the suit held. She scowled as the vernac slowly went limp in her arms and turned to confirm that the door was closed.

She’d have to send the ontopo suit in for repairs now. Maybe while she was there, she’d buy one or two more to keep as backups. It was too good to go without.

“Report,” Darcy barked loudly. She didn’t know how to silence the suit’s internal alarm. Eight members of her team had entered the room with her, more than she’d anticipated, but maybe that was best considering the resistance. Two were already offloading the extra suits from their backs. One was struggling with a person who was still fully conscious and fighting hard. Darcy dropped the vernac, grabbed a couple of the thick bungee cords, and moved to help her team member tie up the conscious prison guard.

Parp's voice sounded tense. “We’re patching the door to try to make a seal. Environmental controls are responding quickly with the boost from our generator, but it’s going to be close, Captain.”

She glanced at the door. It had warped in the struggle. It wasn’t meant to take that kind of stress. They’d had to use a lot of force to get it open. “I know you’re doing your best,” she replied. “Anything I can do from my side?”

“Stuff something soft in the cracks or find some tape or glue?” he offered.

“You heard him,” Darcy called over the comm. It was unnecessary. Her team was already moving. The room was filled with garbage, packaging from food and beverages obviously consumed over the last weeks or maybe even months, judging by the volume. A couple of people rifled through that. Others opened drawers and cabinets. Falrau was stripping one of the guards closest to the door of her clothing. Someone handed Falrau something shaped like a penknife, and she used it to press the fabric into the crack at the top of the door, where it was slightly bowed. She quickly sliced off another piece and performed the same action at the bottom of the door.

Darcy watched Falrau warily. Here was her chance. She had a weapon in her hand.

Falrau turned and made eye contact with Darcy as she extended her hand holding the knife back toward the person who’d given it to her. She had a pained expression on her face. Darcy noticed that her exhalations were fogging the faceplate, which immediately registered with Darcy as being wrong. Then Falrau fell over.

The rest of the team stared at each other for a split second in shock before converging on the woman.

Hain said, “Her suit’s been breached.”

“A couple of them had laser weapons,” someone else said.

Darcy glanced at her own suit’s HUD. It was still shrieking a warning but holding air. “Anyone else injured?”

No one spoke. Darcy said, “Search these people for weapons, then the room. Fast but thorough. We don’t need any more surprises. They should wake up quickly.” She crouched next to Hain, who was hovering over Falrau.

Hain didn’t look up. “I’ve turned off her suit’s system, so it isn’t leaking any more air,” she said.

Tarsil handed Darcy some tape. “This might help. They were using this.” Tarsil gestured to the areas where the walls of the room met the cavern walls. A thick foam tape had been used to make an additional haphazard seal in those areas to prevent a slow air leak.

“Good work,” Darcy said. Tarsil turned and went back to checking the guards.

“Pressure is coming up inside,” Parp said over the comm.

“Stay frosty,” Darcy yelled to everyone. She’d said it enough; they knew what she meant.

“How bad is it?” Darcy asked Hain. “Should we get her out of the suit, or can we try to patch this one up?”

“It’s difficult to tell. Her blood pressure is good for a lovek. I think she’ll be okay if we patch the suit.” Hain plucked the thick roll of tape from Darcy’s hand, peeled off a section, and applied it without wasting any time. Then she was reactivating the suit’s controls.

Darcy stared at Hain, hoping the Ginnan was making the right call. It was obvious that Hain didn’t believe the Lovek’s intentions were pure, despite Do’Vela’s assurances.

First, do no harm, echoed in Darcy’s head. To her knowledge, Hain had made no such pledge.

Darcy glanced over her shoulder. Some of the survivors were stirring. The one they’d tied up was miraculously still conscious and writhing against his bonds. She didn’t know what species he was, but wow. “They’re waking up,” she warned.

Someone tackled her, flattening her out on her side. Her faceplate hit the stone floor hard and her forehead slammed into it. Her neck protested the bad angle painfully despite all the internal padding. That was going to leave some bruises. She’d have to spend some time later channeling energy into those areas to speed up healing.

She pistoned her right elbow back, throwing her attacker off balance. She rolled and kicked herself up on her feet. It was the vernac, of course.

“Will you just stop?” Darcy said, incredulous.

“This is our stuff,” the vernac said, hovering in a fighting stance

“We don’t want your crappy stuff!” Darcy replied.

The next few moments resembled a bar brawl. Things were thrown. People were punching each other, scrambling for makeshift weapons. It was a mess. But the survivors were no match for her people, who trained regularly with Yunto.

The vernac was particularly problematic. Like a dog with a bone, she was riling the others up exponentially, even though Darcy kept trying to reassure them that their intentions were good. Eventually, someone opted to use one of the confiscated laser weapons against her, giving her a minor leg wound. That only slowed her down a little, until Darcy was able to stun her momentarily with a blow to the face, allowing someone else to grab her arms and another person to tackle her legs so she could be tied up.

Ultimately, they subdued them all without killing or severely injuring anyone. Then they began to get the survivors into the suits, which was yet another challenge. By the time they got everyone marching down the tunnel back to the Vermachten, the team was visibly exhausted.

Darcy felt her conscience pricking at her. She was taking these people against their will, which didn’t seem right, and she intended to give them the full post-slaver treatment as well, which meant they’d essentially be stealing their stuff, just as the survivors had feared. But was she supposed to leave them to die? That sounded just as bad. She hated gray areas like this, where the situation made her feel like a bad guy no matter what choice she made—when all she wanted to do was something good. Her whole life seemed to be one big gray area lately.

Fresh crewmembers arrived at the airlock to take the new prisoners off their hands and put them in holding. Darcy refocused on Falrau and Hain, who were bringing up the rear.

“How are you holding up?” she asked Falrau.

“I’m fine,” Falrau replied.

Darcy fidgeted inside her suit. She was itching to get out of it and chill for a while. “Let’s take the precaution of visiting the infirmary to be sure.” She nodded at Hain, who said nothing, and waved to a couple of guards to follow along.

In the infirmary, Darcy helped Falrau out of her suit despite her protests, then stripped off her own. A section of Falrau’s buff-colored hair had been singed and the skin of her cheek on that side sported a bloodless blue burn which was weeping into the velvety short fur of her face, in the early stages of healing. She was either lucky or had amazing reflexes. The laser had only grazed her. A few inches to the left and she’d have been dead. Hain moved in wordlessly with some assessment tools.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse,” Darcy said to fill in the awkward silence as she gathered some gloves, gauze, and a sterile wound-cleaning solution. The laser would have cauterized the wound instantly, but Darcy worried that the surrounding hairs might harbor infectious agents. Better to clean the entire area thoroughly.

Hain had moved to a computer screen, presumably to analyze the data.

Darcy reached out to dab gently at Falrau’s face. It felt so strange to treat someone so tenderly who looked just like her worst enemy.

“Your helmet was also damaged,” Falrau commented.

“Thank goodness it didn’t breach,” Darcy replied. “I think it might be time to look into upgrading the fleet’s stock of suits to something more durable like these ontopo suits.” She gestured at the carcass of her own suit lying in the corner of the room.

Falrau made a face that would have passed for comical aristocratic revulsion on Earth. “But the color.”

“Heh. Yeah, I agree. It’s a crazy color.” She smiled at the lovekaan woman. Falrau didn’t so much as flinch as Darcy lightly brushed over her wound. “This looks like it’s healing well already. It’s a clean cut and shallow. If you want to minimize scarring, you should use a light ointment and keep the wound covered.”

“I have my medical kit with me. I will utilize it as you suggest. That is standard treatment on my world, though largely unnecessary except in the worst cases.”

Darcy nodded, and disposed of the gloves and gauze.

“You were training to become a medical doctor before my brother abducted you?” Falrau said. She spoke plainly, without hesitation. And she wasn’t skirting the truth.

Oddly, Darcy felt some relief that they could talk to each other factually without a lot of emotion clouding things. She’d agonized over the loss of medical school for a long time, but she’d eventually come to terms with it. “I was, yes,” she replied.

“I also have some medical training. It’s helpful when running a large household.” She paused. “You have the touch.”

Darcy looked down and smiled slightly. She was pretty sure she did. “Thank you.”

“I can’t change what happened to you. What is past is past. But I think it is important to tell you that I’m shamed by my brother’s actions. You are right to be wary of me. I’d be worried if you were not. However, I hope to demonstrate my value to you in the future.”

Darcy watched the other woman speak with careful closeness, her own lips tightly pressed together. This was the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get for the damage that had been done to her life and Adam’s. She nodded, unable to reply.

Falrau inhaled deeply. “I find myself curious about the practice of medicine away from Loveka, though also trepidatious. It seems to have a dark side.”

Darcy frowned. “How so?”

“My brother is using it to nefarious ends, in body modifications to restore himself after your encounter. Mechanical eyes. Replacement limbs. Only the ancients and Raub himself know the full extent of that evil. He is remaking himself into a monster, an abomination.”

Darcy held up a hand to curtail Falrau’s rant before she built up any more steam. The woman paused, her fuzzy brows drawn together. This was important intel, and she was grateful to know about it without having to question Falrau, but she couldn’t let her continue without comment. “Your brother is a monster, but it’s not because he chose to repair his body or even, God forbid, to enhance it. His words and deeds are what make him that. In my culture, living with a disability or opting to use a prosthetic is a personal choice. We all have just one life and we can live in our own bodies however we choose. If someone loses an arm and can no longer perform their normal functions, they have every right to replace that arm and return to as normal of a life as possible.”

“But such a loss is death! A person must accept their fate. If one cannot perform one’s duties, one’s life is forfeit.”

Darcy shuddered at the implication. She tried to be diplomatic. “I realize you come from a culture with little outside exposure. You’ve clearly been raised with different values, and I sympathize with that, but I’m going to be plain—most people believe that that idea is just plain wrong. Maybe there was a reason that evolved in the distant past on your world, but out here? Now? It sounds barbaric and backwards. If you truly believe that stuff, I’m going to recommend that you don’t say it out loud to another living soul. You’ll hurt other people and I’m one hundred percent certain that you won’t find anyone who agrees with you. Accidents happen. People make choices and go on living. They are most definitely not dead to us. Most people believe in supportive care for everyone—to let everyone live the best life possible. There are several people working for me in the fleet who use prostheses, and I won’t have you harassing them. If you do, I’ll cut you loose.”

At least she’d started out diplomatic. By the end, she sounded like a mom scolding a little kid. She half expected Falrau to get violent in response.

Instead, the woman looked introspective—not chastened or anything—just thoughtful and maybe even troubled. “I was not aware. I vow to consider your words with great care, and rest assured I will not beleaguer your staff. I have no wish to hurt anyone. Thank you for explaining the cultural difference so succinctly. I admit that I am questioning many things about my culture the more I experience of the outside.”

Darcy squinted at her. Could she be for real? If she was serious, this was a level of open-mindedness that she hadn’t expected. “Thank you for listening and taking the matter seriously. It’s important. We can talk about it more later if you want.” She turned to Hain and lightened her voice. “So, what do the scans say? Anything serious?”

Hain looked up like she’d been caught daydreaming. She clicked on the air controller at her throat that allowed her to speak. “The patient is not in any danger. The hypoxia was short-lived and has no residual effects. The wound is minor and healing quickly. I recommend rest.”

“All right.” Darcy took a few steps back toward the door and triggered it to open. Two guards stood outside, waiting. She injected as much niceness into her voice as she could. “These folks will escort you back to your quarters.”

Falrau dipped her head as a farewell gesture as she left the room. As soon as the door was shut again, Darcy let out a relieved breath and turned back to Hain. “You okay?”

Hain made eye contact with Darcy. She did nothing but nod once and return her attention to the computer screen. There was no soft whooshing sound, so her voice controller was turned off again.

Darcy’s brows shot up. Okay, then. Hain was angrier than she realized. She’d better clear the air. “Do you have something you’d like to say?”

Hain shook her head slightly. She didn’t even look up.

Darcy stepped closer to Hain and waved her hand in front of the screen. “You know conversations are generally easier when there are two people participating.”

Hain looked surprised and clicked on her voice controller. “Wahndis has taken a turn for the worse. I was just looking over her vitals for the last day. My efforts to reduce her fecundity have been ineffective. I suspect she will die sometime in the next few days if I don’t do something drastic.”

Darcy’s mouth hung open. She’d completely misread this situation. “Oh, no. How drastic?”

“Surgery. It’s a final resort. There is no documented treatment for this ailment within the Hymenoptera species, however many species have standard sterilization procedures. I’ve studied several methodologies for related species over the last few days in case this became necessary. She has already consented to the procedure should it become necessary. She’s in a weakened state, but it’s the only option left to save her.”

“When will you do the surgery?”

“As soon as possible. She may deteriorate too far otherwise for the surgery to yield any benefit.” Hain’s head tilted to one side. “It will take me a few hours to prepare and call my team to duty if they’re off-shift.”

“I’d like to be there. I’m not trained, but I want to learn. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

Hain had already returned to studying the screen. “Yes, of course,” she said absently. “I’ll call for you just before we scrub in.”

23

Darcy was tired, but her brain was buzzing and there was no way she’d be able to nap before the surgery. She left her suit in an unused corner of the infirmary and went into the ward, a small cargo hold nearby converted for convalescing patients. It was the only place large enough to house Wahndis.

The infirmary workers were already prepping for the surgery, erecting a structure around Wahndis to isolate her from the rest of the room. Crates of sheeting sat nearby, ready to be draped and sealed. The whole room reeked of chemical disinfectants.

She stood in the open doorway. “Will I contaminate the room if I come in?” she asked.

Tesserae71 turned around and clacked, “No, Mistress. We have just begun. Please come in. Our Mother is awake now.”

This mistress business threw her for a loop. Most of the hymenoptera had imprinted on Hain just after they were born. In their society, that meant Hain was their queen. A few had accidentally imprinted on Darcy when their eggs hatched under her care. But when Darcy had freed the hymenoptera, they’d all changed their allegiance and had begun to refer to Darcy as queen or mistress, a circumstance which seemed to be highly unusual.

She’d thought they might realign again to Wahndis, since she was truly their mother, but they’d seemed to come to a unanimous decision to refer to Wahndis as Our Mother and persisted in the queen and mistress stuff with Darcy. It was fascinating how quickly they came to a group consensus and universally expressed similar opinions on topics like this. She knew it was a cultural thing, but she would have preferred they call her Captain or just Darcy. She’d said as much a couple of times, and it had only upset them, so she gave up.

Darcy started across the floor. She felt like tiptoeing. She remembered how Grandma Harriet had felt about newly washed floors.

She’d been visiting Wahndis at least once a day. She felt responsible for her and wanted to give her back the life that had been stolen from her. Until now, Wahndis had seemed to be doing better, but Darcy could see that her condition was much worse today. She lay listlessly, just like she had on Cantrip, her head propped on a cushion. Many of the same hymenoptera that had attended to her on Cantrip still cared for her here. Tesserae71 had told her a few days before that they were relieved that efforts were underway to help Wahndis survive.

Crouching, Darcy peered into the hymenoptera’s eyes. The many facets seemed cloudy. “Are you in much pain, Wahndis?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wahndis replied.

“It does to me. To Hain. To the entire crew. We’re going to do all we can to help you.”

Her gaze flicked over Wahndis’s massive body. A hymenoptera whisked away another egg. Hain’s efforts at reducing the hormones that forced Wahndis to constantly produce eggs just weren’t working.

“A waste of time. I lived a fatuous life before they took me to Cantrip. I never tried to help anyone. I pretended I didn’t know that my wealth was borne on the suffering of others, just like everyone else. I deserve this fate.”

“No,” Darcy said firmly. “You don’t. You as an individual aren’t to blame for the sins of your society. Yes, you had privilege. That was a circumstance of your birth, beyond your control. Now that you know better, you can do better. That’s all any of us can do. You’ll have a better life after the surgery. You’ll make a difference then.”

Wahndis turned her head to stare at Darcy. “Perhaps. If I survive.”

“You will.”

“If I do, it will be because of my queen’s determination,” she clacked softly. Her strength was fading.

Darcy stood. They were beginning to put up the sheeting and prepping for the sterilization of the space. “Rest now. Save your energy. I’ll see you after the surgery.”

Darcy leaned against the shower wall and closed her eyes, letting the cascading water rinse off the soap. The surgery would begin soon and she needed to be ready. She’d eaten a few cubes and had a cup of perk, but it hadn’t kicked in yet. She was hoping the shower would wash away some of her fatigue along with the grime of what had already been a long day. She wanted to be as clean as possible for the surgery.

It was a luxury to use a real water shower. It made the water recyclers a little fussier, but she kept them extremely short to minimize that. She got in, rinsed off, soaped up, rinsed again, and she was out. She only washed her hair once a week and turned off the stream between rinses to conserve the water.

Most people in the fleet preferred to take an ionic cleanse, but she associated that method with the spent time in captivity with Raub, and found it difficult to stomach. Taking a real water shower felt like home, even if only for five minutes. Hain had had it installed for her years before, and she was still grateful every time she used it.

“Captain Darcy?”

Darcy startled out of a thought-filled trance and slapped off the water control. “Yes, Do’Vela,” she said as she grabbed a lightweight towel and started vigorously drying off.

“The fuses have been set on Talus 3 and the fleet is ready to jump. Shall we move to a safe distance, blow the asteroid, and set course for Nimar as planned?”

Darcy inhaled sharply. Yes. Nimar. To get the ontopo suit repaired and buy a few more to test for fleetwide use. She let the breath back out slowly. She would have liked to hold a service for the dead on Talus 3, or even leave the bodies for loved ones to claim if her teams were able to find and contact them, but she couldn’t risk this station being reused for its original purpose in the meantime. It had to go before someone came back—and they needed to erase any traces of their presence there. “Go ahead.”

“Also, Hain would like for you to join her if you still intend to observe the surgery.”

Darcy threw on a lightweight jumpsuit, tossed aside her makeshift shower cap, and smoothed down her hair without taking the time to look in the mirror. “I’m on my way.”

Darcy arrived in the infirmary and made eye contact with Hain, who was being dressed by the staff in sterile surgical garments. The ferny fronds on top of her head were covered with a large hood, cinched around her face. “Her vitals are too low for general anesthetic,” Hain said. “We’ll have to use local only. Connect with Do’Vela for communication.”

One of Hain’s assistants, a higitch named Dar, tapped off Hain’s vocal air flow and fastened a fabric mask just below her eyes, then seated a transparent face shield over that.

Dar was somewhat humanoid-looking, and yet he also looked an awful lot like a naked mole rat, though Darcy hated thinking it. His skin was a mottled grayish-pink and loose with lots of wrinkles and folds. His eyes were small and set close together, and his nose was a flattened pink stub. What little hair he had was transparent and protruded from tiny dark pink freckles. It created a shimmery halo around his head. His teeth, however, did not fit the profile. They stayed inside his mouth, and Darcy couldn’t remember ever seeing them.

A hymenoptera steered Darcy to a nearby station to swab her hands and arms with a disinfecting sponge. Then they put long rubbery gloves over her arms and affixed the same garments over her body that they’d just placed on Hain—boots, pants, apron, everything. Once those were set, she joined Hain and her attendants.

Inside the makeshift surgical room, Wahndis was thoroughly draped, lying on her side. The lighting was intensely bright. Several machines were attached to Wahndis’s body—monitors and something that looked like a pump. Other equipment was waiting around the perimeter. Tables had been set up around her to hold trays of surgical instruments. Hain approached Wahndis’s abdomen, one of her assistants at her side. A couple more stepped into the tent, one of them to monitor vitals, another standing at the ready to leap in as necessary.

Through Do’Vela’s mental connection, Hain instructed Darcy to stand on the other side of the patient in case her hands were needed. “This is relatively unusual. Most modern surgeries are done robotically with sentient supervision. However, for a species like the Hymenoptera who are not well documented medically, a more traditional approach must be taken.”

Hain rubbed an anesthetic gel over the surface of the exoskeleton and spoke again through the mental link as she gave it a few moments to do its work. “This species does not utilize a circulatory system to carry oxygen around the body. They have an open circulatory system. Their blood, more properly termed hemolymph, flows freely within the body cavity, infusing the tissues with nutrients. The dorsal vessel acts as a rudimentary heart through peristalsis. Our goal will be to conserve the hemolymph and supplement only if needed, with a synthetic substitute I have created.”

Hain made the first cut. “The cuticle of the patient’s abdomen is uncharacteristically soft due to malnutrition and the rapid expansion caused by extreme fecundity. But I am confident that will reverse upon the next molting cycle, with adequate nutrition. In time, the patient should revert to a more normal physical aspect.” She paused as her assistant handed her a syringe, then continued her lecture as she injected the wound with a numbing agent. She looked up at Darcy while waiting for the medication to infuse into the yellowish hemolymph. “Unlike with mammalian patients, the circulatory system is not our most critical concern. A brief interruption of that system will do no harm. The tracheal system, however, cannot be allowed to pause.”

Darcy nodded. “Understood.”

“You’re certainly familiar with the function of mammalian lungs. The tracheal system is very different. Internal air tubes line the entire body, beginning at the spiracles, through the tracheal trunk, and down to the finest of the tracheoles. Where the tracheoles interface with cells, gas is exchanged via diffusion. Hymenoptera have a sort of bellows in their abdomen, air sacs that are compressed by involuntary muscular movements controlled by the brain, forcing air in and out, supplying oxygen and carrying carbon dioxide away. Because the patient is so weak, I’m supplementing this system with constant positive air pressure. If that’s not enough, we will have to ventilate using manual compression. This will require a great deal of effort and will have to be done in shifts.”

Darcy nodded again. “Got it.” Her fatigue had vanished. Adrenaline had kicked in. It was a familiar feeling. She’d experienced it many times in medical school. Wahndis needed her. This was serious. It was moments like these that made her believe she might be good at ER medicine or surgery. When she needed to be on, it didn’t matter how tired she was. She was on.

“Vitals?” Hain asked.

“No change,” one of the assistants replied over the mental connection.

“We begin,” Hain said. She set a pair of retractors in place to hold the incision open. “The ovaries are quite large and together occupy seventy percent of the internal space of the abdomen. We must take care not to harm the digestive tract or the dorsal vessel as we extract them.”

Dar moved a unit closer until it was right over the incision, and Darcy realized it was a robotic laparoscope, much smaller than those she’d seen on Earth. “In most species, such a large incision wouldn’t be necessary. Here, the ovaries, even resected, necessitate a large opening. To prevent excessive trauma, I will utilize these microsurgical tools.” With practiced ease, she inserted the end of the tool into the abdominal cavity and began to manipulate the organs. There was a screen placed at Hain’s eye level and another facing Darcy.

Darcy watched, fascinated as an ovary came into view. It was massive and white with many rounded bumps over its surface. Hain had a very clear image of Wahndis’s internal anatomy set in her mind from studying three-dimensional scans of the woman. She moved around the organs with confidence, looking for any adhesions that might not have been visible in the scans. She found none.

“I will begin with the oviduct. Cauterization is unnecessary. Sealing the severed tracheoles is what is needed in this species.” The camera zoomed in, and Darcy saw small filaments emerge and begin to close the microscopic tubes.

“Tissue oxygen saturation is decreasing,” the assistant who was monitoring vitals said.

“Increase air pressure by two units,” Hain replied.

Hain continued the cutting-and-sealing procedure.

“There is fibrillation in the musculature surrounding the air sacs. Oxygen levels continue to desaturate. Not yet at critical levels.”

Darcy felt the mental connection with Hain widen exponentially. “Prepare yourself,” Hain said inside her mind. She paused briefly to show Darcy a mental picture of what she would need to do. It was clear she’d expected this might happen and prepared for it.

“I’m ready,” Darcy replied. She’d never so much as taken blood from a human, and she was about to hold Wahndis’s life in her hands. Yet she felt sure she could do it.

This. Exactly this was what she’d been preparing for back on Earth. A chance to help someone who was desperately in need. After all the changes that had been forced on her, she was relieved to realize this was still true. At her core, she continued to be her true self. If anything, that part of her felt stronger because she felt no hesitation. That mattered more to her than she’d realized until this very moment.

It gave her hope. That everything would be okay in the end. For her. For Adam. Maybe even for them as a couple once she found him.

Hain resumed the surgery.

“Oxygen saturation reaching critical levels.”

“Begin manual compression,” Hain said.

Darcy didn’t hesitate. She reached in, exactly where Hain had visualized, and found a slippery balloon-like globe. It was smaller than she’d expected.

“Yes, that’s it,” Hain confirmed. “Squeeze.”

24

It was harder work than Darcy had anticipated. The air sac was thick and muscular. It was also slippery with hemolymph. Darcy squeezed rhythmically with her right hand on a count of three until that hand started to cramp so severely that she began to have difficulty. Then she carefully switched hands and resumed without interruption. Wahndis’s oxygen saturation levels rose to near normal.

Darcy was keeping her alive.

Hain worked diligently without pause. Resected tissues began to emerge from the incision. One of the assistants took them and conveyed them to a large crate nearby.

When Darcy’s left hand seized up, she switched back to her right. She had no idea how long she’d been compressing or how much longer this would take. At some point, she started sweating. One of Hain’s assistants brought her a drink and held it for her under the face shield and mask as she sipped. Another one stood by, ready to take over the moment Darcy indicated she needed a break. Hain continued to operate. She was working thoroughly and efficiently. Even with these advanced surgical tools, it was taking a lot of time.

Shortly after Hain had completed the removal of the first ovary, Darcy sensed the subtle signs of the ship moving—just the slightest momentary feeling of vertigo. So, the work at Talus 3 was done. Darcy said a silent prayer for those who didn’t make it away from that horrible place. Their next stop would be Nimar. Selpis would probably do some restock of food and supplies, and maybe they’d get wind of another job.

They worked on in virtual mental silence. Darcy watched the screen, fascinated with the way the surgical tools worked. Maybe someday soon, she’d be able to attend classes to learn to use them herself. Once she found Adam, she’d be free to pursue that if she wanted. She could help people the way she’d always dreamed, learn to treat many species, just as Hain had. Suddenly, standing there in that moment, she realized that was even more exciting to her than medical school on Earth had been. It was one positive to come out of the ordeal Raub had put her through, was still putting her through.

“Vitals,” Hain demanded.

“Holding steady. Oxygen saturation is well within normal. Hemolymph movement is still very good, though there is some incoordination within the dorsal vessel.”

Hain didn’t reply. But Darcy gathered from her mental state that this report satisfied her. So, they were still doing well. Wahndis was stronger than she thought. It was looking like she’d pull through this, as long as her tracheal system restarted on its own after this was over. She didn’t know what they’d do if it didn’t, but she trusted that Hain had a plan. She seemed to have a plan for everything.

“Captain Darcy, I’m so sorry to interrupt your work. It’s just that—” Do’Vela cut herself off. The kuboderan sounded uncharacteristically agitated.

Darcy’s brows drew together. She concentrated on maintaining her rhythm while mentally saying, “What is it, Do’Vela?”

The ship shuddered ever so slightly. She knew that feeling. It was unmistakable. The engines had shut down. Darcy’s anxiety raised about two hundred notches. “Do’Vela? What’s wrong?” She sensed Do’Vela straining to… what? Hear something? Feel something?

Darcy met Hain’s eyes. She was worried too.

“Relieve her,” Hain told Dar, who was standing behind Darcy.

Darcy counted to three mentally over and over as the higitch eased his own hand into Wahndis. His hands were significantly larger. The compressions might actually be easier for him. She waited until their hands were touching and he was counting along with her. He said, “Ready.” Then she let go and slipped her hand out between squeezes. Every surgery should have this kind of mentally coordinated precision. It was amazing.

She didn’t want to leave the surgery. She stepped back until she was standing against the sheeting, her hands raised in the air, yellow hemolymph running down her arms. An assistant handed her a sterile towel to wipe the hemolymph from her gloves. She swabbed them absently, the aching in her hands already forgotten in her concern over Do’Vela’s strange behavior.

“Do’Vela? Answer me, please.”

“This system is supposed to be uninhabited,” Do’Vela said.

“What’s going on? Have you detected something?”

“I’ve scanned and scanned and there’s nothing there but… I feel someone. Many someones. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Start from the beginning. Try to explain,” Darcy said patiently.

“Our current trajectory has taken us deeper into the system. I felt… something. It was so faint at first, I thought I imagined it. I changed course to take us closer. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But if I’m right… And it got stronger! I didn’t know what to do. You were busy. I had to stop the ship. I have to know. If this is mutiny, I know that’s wrong, but…”

Darcy frowned. She knew from Hain that they gave Do’Vela more latitude than most crews gave their kuboderans. But Do’Vela had never done anything like this before. That definitely was an indication that this was fairly serious. Darcy said, “Do’Vela, it’s not mutiny to be curious. Just tell me what you’ve found.”

“I think I’ve found people. People like me. I think I’ve found a planet with many kuboderans on it.”

Darcy’s brows shot up. That was unusual. Darcy didn’t know a whole lot about kuboderans, but she knew their origin was deeply shrouded in mystery by a species called the Sectilius that had discovered them and tried to keep them to themselves. The species had escaped their care hundreds of years before and was now very common on non-sectilian ships that had jump capability. Apparently, they were integral to the jump drive technology, could do things that even computers couldn’t.

Darcy’s fleet had a few ships with kuboderan navigators. She’d spent a little time with each of them. One thing she’d noticed that each of them had in common was a lonely, hungry side that seemed to make them eager to please, yearning to connect with their crews. She knew firsthand how hard it was to be alone, a single human among so many aliens. Given the opportunity, she’d want the chance to investigate a planet full of humans if it were hanging there in space right before her eyes. And the Kuboderans were so isolated in their tanks. It would be natural to be excited about meeting others. “I understand. You did the right thing.”

“Go. You’re needed,” Hain said. “Things are well in hand here.”

Darcy surveyed the scene. She hated to go. But Hain was right.

“Brief me when it’s done,” Darcy said. She carefully exited the tented structure and started peeling off the protective clothing. An assistant came forward to help her disrobe and to dispose of each piece.

As she strode for the bridge, Do’Vela decided to show her what she was perceiving. Waves of indistinct voices in staccato pulses washed over her, none of them clear enough to pick out individual voices. Do’Vela was right. That was a lot of people.

Darcy arrived on the bridge. Both Goab and Darcy6 were still on duty. Darcy6 rose from the command chair as soon as she appeared.

“You’ve been on duty longer than usual,” Darcy said to them as they turned, ready to begin briefing her. They should have been relieved hours before.

Goab said, “It’s all right. We’re stretched pretty thin with all that’s going on right now. We’ll be relieved by the next shift.”

Darcy nodded and made a mental note that it might be time to train more bridge crew. “What have we got?”

Goab gestured at his console. “Not a lot. Do’Vela is sensing a large kuboderan presence on this planet, but sensors aren’t picking up anything—no structures, no ships, no life signs. Just a dead planet.”

Darcy looked up at the main viewscreen, which displayed the planet. It looked arid, a lot like Mars, all orange and red. She didn’t see any blue at all. “Are there any bodies of water on the planet? Could they be living there?” Darcy was thinking about the kuboderans that Ronald Gibbs had given amnesty to on the planet they called Pliga That Was. Those kuboderans might have found a remote place like this to settle. Sectilian kuboderans had a hard row to hoe after the true nature of the sectilian plague had been revealed to have been masterminded by a kuboderan named Kai’Memna. Finding somewhere remote to settle after that dustup would make sense. Then it struck her that this could potentially be Kai’Memna’s original base of operations. The kuboderans down there could be decidedly unfriendly and hiding from the authorities. That would make things very complicated, to say the least.

“The atmosphere is too thin for water to remain on the surface, but there appear to be a few lakes deep under the surface. I guess it’s possible for kuboderans to live there,” Goab said. He looked skeptical.

Darcy6 said, “The Kubodera are said to come from a water world, so this is unlikely to be their planet of origination.”

Darcy put her hands behind her head and leaned back in the command chair. This was an interesting mystery, though she wished it had cropped up at a different time. It had been a long day. She let out a deep sigh. She could spend a few hours satisfying their navigator’s curiosity.

She was still connected with Do’Vela, who was paying attention to the conversation on the bridge while simultaneously straining to listen to the voices below them. “So, what would you like to do here, Do’Vela? Have you attempted to make contact? Have they noticed you?”

“I have not made contact and they have not noticed me,” she said. Her mental voice contained a measure of uncertainty. She’d clearly been thinking the same things Darcy had, about who these people might be. “I’m unsure how to go forward.”

Goab jumped into the conversation. “Can you pinpoint the origin of the signal?”

“Perhaps? If we orbit the planet a few times?”

“That seems to be a good place to start,” Darcy said. “That will take a few hours, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Okay, let me know when you’ve either got coordinates or someone has made contact.”

Darcy stopped by the infirmary on the way to her quarters. As she walked through Hain’s lab, she ran into Tesserae71 doing some work on the stem cell line that they hoped would prolong his life. He hadn’t heard anything about the surgery yet. Darcy was gathering up the ontopo suit when Hain came through.

Hain clicked on her vocalizing unit with a limp flick of her hand. “The patient is stable. The surgery was successful.” She headed toward her light bath.

“Her tracheal system restarted?” Darcy asked.

“Not without considerable effort. I had to resort to chemically stimulating it to resume its normal rhythm, but it is functioning now. If she survives the next standard day without too much difficulty, I believe she will make a full recovery. We will keep her under close surveillance to head off any problems quickly.” Hain lifted the lid on her bathing chamber. The air filled with the sickly sulfurous smell of the green liquid inside that fed the symbiotic lichen covering her skin.

Tesserae71 placed a tray of cultures in an incubator. “I will go check on Our Mother and see if anything is needed.”

Darcy realized she was swaying where she stood. “I’m going to catch a few hours’ rest if I can. Let me know if anything changes.”

Hain had already shut off the airflow to her voice box and was climbing into the bath. She nodded, lay down, and shut the lid over herself.

Darcy trudged back to her quarters with the ontopo suit. It had been a long day… or was it technically days? She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d slept, and she was too tired to convert the hours in her head.

And it wasn’t over yet.

25

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open. It felt like she’d just closed them. She glanced at the time. She’d been asleep for hours, but not nearly long enough. She rolled on her back, wondering what had woken her and if she’d be able to go back to sleep.

“Captain Darcy?” Do’Vela’s voice said softly in her head.

“Oh. It’s you who woke me.” Darcy rolled her tongue around in her mouth. It was dry as a bone and tasted foul. “Light, low,” Darcy said, and sat up, looking around her cabin for the tumbler of water she’d been drinking from before she’d passed out.

“Yes, Captain. I’ve pinpointed the signal. I have coordinates on the planet for you, as you requested.”

“No contact yet?”

“No, no contact. They don’t seem to have noticed our presence in orbit.”

Darcy located the tumbler and drank the contents down. Do’Vela was sounding more normal. That was good. “So, maybe we should just go down and see what’s up, huh?”

“I realize this is highly irregular. I appreciate that you’re indulging me in this.”

Well, that was formal, coming from Do’Vela. Darcy waved her hand, still groggy enough to have forgotten that Do’Vela’s presence wasn’t physical. “No, I think this is good. It’s distracting me from thinking about those poor people on Talus 3.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to help!” Do’Vela exclaimed.

Darcy winced against the enthusiasm and began shifting her things around, looking for the package of dried perk she’d used the day before. She couldn’t see a thing. “Light, medium,” she said aloud. She yawned and stretched. Her quarters were a mess. She really needed to do something about that. Grandma Harriet would be absolutely disgusted with her if she could see this, though she was always so busy that cleaning her own rooms seemed like the last thing on the to-do list.

Finally, she found the perk under a discarded shirt. She poured a healthy amount into her tumbler and added some more water. It dissolved instantly and didn’t even need to be stirred, really. It tasted better hot, but she didn’t always bother. It was bitter, kinda vegetal like green tea, and had a chemical in it that was apparently structurally similar to caffeine. It didn’t taste anything like coffee, but it did the job and that was all she cared about.

“Have you asked for volunteers to go down to the surface?”

“Yes. Tesserae71, Goab, and Parp have volunteered to go with you, along with Lady Falrau.”

Darcy blinked and set down the perk. She double-checked the time and date on a nearby tablet to make sure she hadn’t slept longer than she realized. “First, I thought Goab should have just gone off shift. He was on a double shift yesterday.”

“Yes, Captain Darcy, that is correct. However, he says he wants to go.”

Darcy shrugged. The miremon had mentioned before that his home planet’s day length was considerably longer than standard and that made the work schedules seem short to him. “Okay. Second, Lady Falrau?”

“That’s her title,” Do’Vela said simply without any hint of anything but absolute sincerity.

“Right,” Darcy replied. They must have some kind of noble hierarchy among the Lovek. She wondered what being a noble lady on Loveka entailed and if that was anything remotely like royalty on Earth. It was so strange that she’d spent most of a year with Raub and didn’t even know simple details about his world. But it was the kind of thing Do’Vela would pick up on immediately.

Darcy had noticed that kuboderans liked to use a person’s full name and any titles associated with them consistently. She’d once asked Do’Vela to just call her Darcy or Captain instead of Captain Darcy Eberhardt every time she addressed her. That resulted in being called Captain Darcy every single time. It was marginally better.

As for Falrau, she still wasn’t sure about taking the woman along on missions like this. But the woman had had a couple of opportunities to do Darcy harm if that was her intention, and nothing had come of it. She was able bodied and quick thinking. She could be an asset.

The trust issue was hard. There was a lot of baggage there. Just looking at Falrau created all kinds of emotional special effects, but she was not Raub. On the other hand, maybe she was just biding her time, waiting for Darcy to let down her guard, before she did something truly awful. But if that was gonna happen, it would happen no matter what she did. Better to just stay cool and be prepared.

“Have the Klau dock with the Vermachten. I’m going to shower, check on Wahndis, and then we’ll go down to the surface and see what’s up with these kuboderans.”

Darcy could have taken one of the Vermachten’s terns for this short hop down to the surface, but they were very small and claustrophobic. The Klau was bigger and far more comfortable for a team of this size, especially since they had to wear space suits—the atmosphere on this unnamed planet was practically nonexistent. No one in the fleet could survive outside a suit on a planet like that.

Darcy arrived at the dock in one of her older encounter suits to find her team was assembled and waiting. Goab had his own proprietary space suit, which he said was better for his species than most standard suits, probably due to his needs for lots of moisture. Through his visor she could still see his facial tendrils moving around. He must have squished himself inside the brass-colored, suit because he looked much smaller than normal. Tesserae71 was wearing a suit specially made for Hymenoptera. Everyone else wore the black suits stocked on the ship.

Darcy passed out weapons to everyone except Falrau.

Falrau raised a bushy eyebrow at her.

Darcy raised her brow right back. “You’re still on probation,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Falrau responded.

“I don’t expect to need these,” Darcy said to the team. “I just like to be ready for anything.”

“This is an atypical mission for us,” Parp said as he checked the charge on the weapon. “It intrigued me.”

“We’re just going to see what’s there?” Goab asked.

“Pretty much,” Darcy answered. “Do’Vela is all jacked up on curiosity. A bunch of kuboderans in one place is pretty unusual. So, we’re just going down to take a gander. No relocation teams necessary. We’re going to be on our own, so don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

The team moved single file through the docking tube. Darcy took up the rear and was just closing the hatch when she got a ping on her heads-up display. A message from Parp’s tech team had just come through, trying to catch her before she departed for the surface. Attached was a partially decoded manifest from Talus 3. There was still work to be done on it, they cautioned, but a good deal of the data was legible at this stage and they thought she would want to see it, even if it wasn’t yet complete.

Parp volunteered to pilot the Klau and Darcy let him. She could do it, but she wanted to look at the manifest from Talus 3 as soon as possible. It would be grim work, and she wasn’t looking forward to it, but it needed to be done.

She glanced over the documents to get a feel for how they were organized. Not well. Aside from the fact that the files weren’t fully decrypted and there was a lot of nonsense bracketing the more intelligible parts, the structure of their record-keeping was just as haphazard as the architectural design of the asteroid itself had been. It was going to take time to get through all of this.

The trip down was uneventful. Darcy pushed past some mild motion sickness and concentrated on the documents until they were circling above the area Do’Vela had attributed to the voices she’d heard. Unfortunately, there was nothing there but mountains.

Goab was in the copilot’s seat, manning the sensors. He turned to look at Darcy in the second row of seats, and she refocused on the task at hand. “Either they’re actively broadcasting some kind of screen to conceal their settlement or there is an ore in these mountains creating a natural shielding. Either way, I’m not picking up anything useful and the sensors are going wild.”

“We’ll just have to use our best tools,” Parp said. “Our eyes. Look for irregularities of any kind.” He took them lower and began to fly over the region in a grid pattern.

Darcy leaned forward, hoping to see better through the windscreen. It was sandy stone in tones of buff and orange against a gray-blue sky for as far as the eye could see in every direction.

“There,” Falrau said from the third row, pointing. “That cliff face is different. It is more uniform, as though it were shaped.”

Parp circled around and went in for a better look.

“Yes, I agree,” Tesserae71 chirped. “There is something slightly different about the texture and coloration of that wall.”

Darcy couldn’t see a difference between that cliff and any other, but she knew that both Falrau and Tesserae71 had very different visual perceptions from a human.

Parp squinted at the spot and brought them around a third time. “There’s a convenient place to land right there at the base.”

He was right. It was completely flat, just like a landing pad would be.

“Let’s check it out,” Darcy said.

They landed smoothly on a large shelf of rock far above the valley floor. Everyone checked the seals on their suits and they piled out of the vehicle. Darcy walked over to the cliff face. It was vertical, not sloped, and there were striations in the face just like the rest of the terrain. “There aren’t any rocks here at the base,” Darcy pointed out. “Just a little sand and a few pebbles. If you look around, there are boulders and rocks at the base of most of the other cliffs.”

Falrau walked up nearby. “This channel is deeper and wider than the others.” She stuck her arm into the perpendicular crevice. “I felt something that does not feel natural. It’s very smooth.” She closed one eye and peered into the crack, her faceplate nearly brushing the rock.

Goab was waving a device around. “Sensors are still pretty useless, but I do think there’s something here. Call it a hunch.”

In the back of her mind, Darcy could feel Do’Vela’s rising anticipation.

Parp came up behind Falrau, his chalky-white skin and hair making him look ghostly behind the hazy visor in the pale sunlight. “May I?” She stood aside as he shined a light into the crack. “Yes. There are manufactured materials behind here. This is a door. We seem to have found something. Now, how do we get in?” He took a few steps back, eyeing the entire facade of the cliff wall.

Tesserae71 wandered up and down the base of the cliff. “I believe this may be the other side of the door.” He gestured with a pincer toward another deep crack, far from where Darcy stood.

“That’s big enough to get a ship through!” Goab said.

Darcy looked at where Tesserae71 was pointing. “A larger ship than ours,” she said.

“There must be a mechanism nearby to trigger it to open,” Parp said.

“What if it requires a ship to transmit a code?” Goab remarked, looking woefully at Darcy.

“I hope not,” Parp replied. “That would be nearly impossible to crack.”

Tesserae71 said, “Here,” and wedged a pincer into the rock. He leaned back onto his abdomen to support his weight and used his four forelegs to grip a rectangular panel of rock and lift it away. He set it on the ground. “It was a false front, made of synthetic materials to mimic the rock. Very light.”

Parp jogged over and everyone followed. “Well, I recognize this tech. It’s sectilian. Not too surprising, if there are kuboderans around,” he said as he gazed into the depression in the stone. Inside, there was a touchpad and electrical panels. Darcy noticed he didn’t touch it and kept his distance from Tesserae71.

“You’re worried about the plague?” Darcy asked.

He glanced at Darcy, frowning. “A little. But we know a lot more about it now, thanks to those humans who came forward a few standard years ago. I came prepared in the event we were exposed, due to the historical association of the Sectilius and Kubodera. I’ll take care of it. There should be no risk with the right precautions.” Parp trotted back to the ship and sorted through some of the tools he’d brought along. He returned, carrying a big bag over his shoulder.

Darcy shifted inside her suit, trying to get her back to unstick from the vinyl interior padding. She was hot and sweaty already. This sun seemed dim, but it must be stronger than it looked, as fast as she had heated up. That Barbie-pink ontopo suit suddenly seemed even more desirable. It needed to be fixed ASAP. She formally connected with Do’Vela. “We’ve found it. It’s a sectilian installation. Has anything changed as far as what you’re sensing?”

“No, Captain Darcy. This is so exciting!”

Darcy closed her eyes as Do’Vela shouted inside her head. Someday, she was going to find a way to ask the kuboderan to tone down her mental voice without hurting her feelings. “Connect me to Hain if you can. I want to know how Wahndis is doing.” The hymenoptera had been in a state much like a coma when she’d left, but Hain said that was probably part of the species recuperation process after an injury. Darcy had seen Tesserae71 do something similar when he’d been hurt, and he’d come out of it fine, but she was still worried.

“Yes, Captain,” Hain said. “Wahndis has awakened but is weak. The wound has sealed as I had hoped it would since the tissues were soft. Her constitution seems to be fortifying. All vitals are stable. I believe she is past the precarious post-surgical period.”

Darcy smiled. The report was better than she’d hoped. “Excellent. We’ve found the entrance to a compound of some kind. We’re still trying to get in. I’ll keep you posted. Let me know immediately if there’s any change in her condition.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Darcy mentally pinched the connection to Do’Vela and refocused on her surroundings. Parp was working in the indentation in the rock face. He looked up when she came closer. “Oh, you’re back. I could tell you were talking with our aquatic friend.”

“Seems to be pretty obvious when most people are talking to her,” she replied.

He pried something open with a tool. As he leaned forward, his shock of vertical hair pressed against his helmet’s faceplate. “It requires a certain amount of concentration. Then she usually ends up shouting in your head.” He glanced up and smiled at her. The expression was so human, she could almost believe he just had white makeup on.

“She does that to you too, huh? Do you talk to her a lot?”

“Pretty much every day. She’s a strange mix of childlike happiness and complex understanding of the universe. Makes for interesting conversation. I haven’t got any nintergertahunt to talk to on the ship.” Sweat dripped down the side of his face. He swiped his fingers across the faceplate absently.

“I know the feeling,” she said. She turned to look at the vista. All this sterile rock with no one to appreciate the beauty. She could almost believe she was back in Arizona if the sky were just a little bluer. The sun was sinking and the shadows were lengthening. The days were short on this planet. It must have a faster spin. Glancing up, she saw the Vermachten trailing across the dusky sky, little more than a dot.

“Let’s see what I can do. This could take a while.” Parp stood back. He had a cable attached to the panel, which reached across to a tablet he held in his hands. He looked it over carefully and tapped the screen now and then. He grew thoughtful and reached up to rub his chin. When his hand smacked the face shield, he glanced at Darcy sheepishly to see if she’d seen.

Darcy stepped back into the shade the vertical rock provided to let him work without feeling so much pressure. She hoped her suit would cool off a bit, and it gave her a chance to look at the Talus 3 documents again in her HUD, which was what she really wanted to be doing anyway. If only this document had come a few hours earlier, she could have looked at it without distractions like this.

Then she found the most current list of prisoners at the time of the breach. It was completely legible. Her stomach was a tight knot. Her breath was coming quick. She felt jacked up. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her physical discomfort and current surroundings melted away as she pored over the list.

She scanned through it carefully three times.

Adam wasn’t on it, at least with his given name.

Darcy let her body sag inside the suit. She could be relatively sure Adam hadn’t been there. He hadn’t died on that asteroid.

None of the names sounded human to her, but she couldn’t know if they would have been allowed to use their true names. The groups documenting the cells hadn’t reported the presence of any humans. At least she had that comfort.

She continued to search.

Then she found the database of previous occupants. It was a much larger file. As she glanced over the time stamps, she realized Talus 3 had been in operation for years.

She started to race through the file, then forced herself to slow down. Other people would be going through this too, and she didn’t want to find out later she’d missed an important detail on her first pass. Around her, the rest of the team milled about, helping Parp, communicating with the ship via Do’Vela, discussing what they might find inside the mountain. She ignored them all and stayed focused on the task. Unless or until they needed her, this was more important.

She scrolled through, the HUD reacting to her eye movements.

A combination of letters screamed out at her. Her breath caught in her throat.

She stared at the name hovering in her vision.

Dear God.

Her body tingled. Flashes of heat and cold swept over her. A sudden wave of vertigo. She tipped back against the rock like a felled tree, her helmet scraping as she went down.

The team crouched around her, shouting to each other, calling her name. Do’Vela’s worried presence tried to fill her mind.

But that name still hovered there.

Adam Benally had been on Talus 3 at one time.

She remained unmoving, unreactive except for a small twitch of her fingers in a gesture that told the HUD to click on his name.

A new file materialized.

It was definitely him. There was a picture.

She stared.

He looked stoned. He must have been drugged to keep him quiet.

A sob lodged in her throat and wouldn’t move.

The entry showed how long he’d been there.

Years.

Years, he’d been kept there like a rat in a cage.

And narrowly escaped the fate of the rest of those poor people.

She closed her eyes as tears flooded them.

It was the first time she was grateful not to find him.

She momentarily lost control of her neutral static charge. The HUD went blank as her body began to rapidly drain the suit’s battery.

She forced herself to resume a more neutral state and waited until the file came back up, trying to read the rest through blurry vision.

Adam had been picked up by a courier company. The name of that company was right there before her eyes. They could track them down and find out where they’d taken him. That should be relatively easy.

Finally. After all this time. A real lead.

Tears wet her cheeks.

They’d be able to find him with this information—she was sure of it.

26

“Ah. Well. That was easy,” Parp said. “This was very old code. It hasn’t been updated. That makes sense. The Sectilius haven’t exactly been out and about for a long time.”

It had taken a while to convince everyone she was all right. She’d almost ordered everyone back in the ship to head back to the Vermachten and take off immediately to follow up on this lead, but she held back for a few reasons.

First, she didn’t want to rush in without proper deliberation and consultation of other people. There was a lot to consider here, and she needed a little bit of time to process it and figure out the best strategy.

Second, they were already here. They’d found something that everyone agreed should be investigated. And finally, she really didn’t want to disappoint Do’Vela.

Adam had been transported away from Talus 3 months before. It was going to take time to find out where he was, then get there and extract him. A couple more hours on this planet wouldn’t make a huge difference.

She didn’t blurt out to everyone what she’d just uncovered. She didn’t want to say anything in front of Falrau. When she’d finally acknowledged her team and reassured them, Parp had met her gaze with a meaningful look. “You found something in those documents,” he stated.

She’d only had to nod.

The rock started to vibrate under her feet. She turned to see the huge mass of the cliff face gliding back like a door on a hinge into the mountain. Under other circumstances, she might have been amazed. At the moment, she was more than a little preoccupied.

“Wow,” Goab breathed into the comm.

Parp came up behind Darcy. “Quite a feat of engineering, this.”

She took a few wooden steps inside, the others following close behind. Some lights overhead illuminated interior. Her eyes adjusted to the lower light. There were several small shuttlecraft and one slightly larger ship parked there. Tucked into the back corner of the room was an airlock. Goab headed straight for it, extending his instruments out in front of him. “There’s air on the other side of this.”

“Air, not water?” Tesserae71 asked.

“Yep. Air.”

“Where are the kuboderans, then?” Falrau asked.

Goab shrugged. “I’m reading a lot of life signs in there. There’s water, too. Maybe big pools or tanks? Hard to tell from these readings. The signal’s just bouncing around on all this rock.”

Parp pressed a symbol next to the airlock door. It opened, blowing up a cloud of dust and grit. They stepped inside. Darcy took point, her hand resting on her hip—near, but not on, her weapon. Parp closed the door behind them.

Goab watched the readings on his device. “Standard air,” he said. “We’re at pressure.” A red light above the door changed to green.

“Ready, Captain?” Parp said.

“Let’s go. Stay frosty,” she warned, forcing herself to let the recent revelation go for the moment and focus.

Parp slid by her and tapped an Open symbol. The airlock slid open. A long, empty corridor lay in front of them, doors lining the walls. The walls, floors, and ceilings were coated with a khaki-colored plastic surface, and there were small lights embedded in the floors. It didn’t feel like a cave carved out of a mountain anymore. It felt more like an office building with high ceilings.

Darcy moved into the hall. The floor was wet with small puddles of standing water in places. She peeked into the open doorways as she passed. They appeared to be used for storage. There were lots of crates neatly stacked inside each one.

“The humidity is very high in here,” Goab commented.

They reached a T in the corridor. Darcy turned right. There were no more doors here. She kept going. After about fifty feet, the wall to her left ended, opening up into a large room full of consoles and equipment. The floor glistened with wetness in the dim light. There was water everywhere. Even the tops of some of the consoles looked wet. At the back of the room, a large tank of water stood empty.

She heard a wet slapping sound. A splash. Then something creaked. She followed the sound, walking around a tall bank of instruments. There was a mechanical grinding sound, then something whirring as it rolled across the floor. She kept following the sound. There was definitely someone in there.

Darcy rounded a corner.

A kuboderan, easily twice the size of Do’Vela, was half in, half out of a six-foot-tall cube of water set up on a wheeled contraption, working at a console.

She stood there a moment, unsure of what to do. This was the last thing she expected. She took another step forward. The movement must have caught their peripheral vision.

An eye roughly the same size as Darcy’s head rotated to look at her.

A jolt of pain ripped through her temples. She staggered to one knee, clutching at the suit’s helmet. She might have screamed.

Thought was impossible.

Then the sensation doubled. And doubled again. And again. Waves of curiosity from multiple individuals bombarded her brain. She fell to her hands and knees, her helmet crashing against the floor.

A rebuke.

But not for her.

And all at once, they fled. She was alone inside her head again.

Darcy panted for a moment as the pain ebbed away. A string of spit trailed from her mouth and pooled in the face shield. She scrambled to turn and get to her feet, to check on her team. It took several attempts. Her equilibrium was out of whack. The others were similarly flailing about, recovering, trying to get up in the bulky suits on unsteady legs.

“You guys okay?” she asked. Too loud. Her ears were ringing like she’d been at a concert.

The members of her team grunted and whispered confirmation of being intact.

Darcy heard movement behind her. She whipped around to see the tank on wheels zipping out of the room, water sloshing over the sides, with the single kuboderan inside.

Parp looked like he was about to fall over. She grabbed his arm to steady him. He shot her a grateful look.

“What just happened?” Falrau said. Her nostrils were flaring. She looked mad enough to spit. “Was that an assault?”

“I believe,” said Tesserae71, “that was an untrained attempt at making contact.”

“Please forgive us,” said a deep voice, gently, in Darcy’s head. “Some of our youth have never encountered a non-kuboderan individual and have not developed the appropriate skill set. Have you sustained any injuries?”

“No. We’re fine,” Darcy replied.

A pale yellow transparent arrow appeared in Darcy’s vision, like virtual reality. “Please, come to me. It will be faster.”

Darcy chewed on her lower lip and glanced at her companions, who still looked a little shell-shocked. “Okay.”

She felt Do’Vela widening the channel between them even further, gobbling up everything Darcy was seeing, hearing, feeling. She was bouncing with excitement, undeterred by the strange greeting they’d just endured.

Darcy led her group through a maze of rooms, following the arrow, until they came to a large space that was wall-to-wall aquariums, divided into individual rooms by clear panels. She noticed there were rough holes cut in these dividing panels so the occupants could move between them. The first one was empty. The second held a kuboderan that was shrinking against the back wall. Farther on, there were faces pressed against the glass of some, while others hung in place, watching from deeper inside. The flooring there was covered with at least an inch of water. As she passed one of the aquarium rooms, there was a loud splash, and Darcy turned her head to see a kuboderan disappear through a tunnel cut in the wall that led somewhere else.

Finally, the yellow arrow pointed at an individual situated in the center of one of these spaces, surprisingly even larger than the one she’d seen out in the first room—easily four to five times larger or more. Inside this tank, a console was situated. It was somewhat like the ones they’d seen in the first room, but it appeared to be modified. Tools lay on the floor of the space.

The yellow arrow disappeared and this individual began to display a rippling pattern of crimson flowing over their metallic skin from the tips of their arms to the top of their undulating fins. Crimson, the individual’s mind told her without words, for friend.

“Are all the Sectilius dead, then?” they asked. The question was not entirely without emotion, though it was stated flatly. Darcy felt an undercurrent of trepidation and resignation stirring beneath the words.

“No…” Darcy replied, and turned to her companions, who probably knew more about what had happened than she did.

“There was a plague many decades ago,” Parp said. “Their numbers were decimated. But they are rebuilding and rejoining galactic society now, slowly.”

“They have not come for us.” Notes of despair tinkled at the back of Darcy’s mind.

“They may not be able to yet. Maybe not for a long time,” Parp replied. “Have you been here, alone, for all these years?”

“We have. Forgive me. It has been so long since I have greeted anyone, I have forgotten my manners. I am Ei’Joh, the eldest and most experienced among us. I have become the matriarch of our little clan. You have just encountered a sampling of my children. My apologies again for their rudeness.”

Darcy introduced herself and her team.

Ei’Joh moved closer to the glass. “I recognize most of the species of your team, but what species are you?”

Darcy hesitated. “I’m human.”

“Human? I’ve not heard of this species.”

“You might know them by a different name, Ei’Joh,” Goab said. “As terran. The Terran Race has finally come forward.”

“By the Cunabula,” Ei’Joh said, one of her large eyes coming even nearer the barrier between them. She seemed to be speechless.

Darcy filled in the awkward silence by telling Ei’Joh about Do’Vela sensing their presence as they passed near the planet. Ei’Joh absorbed all of this without comment, though Darcy felt something from her, an urgency that made her feel like all of this was taking too much time. She felt the same way but for different reasons.

But the kuboderan held herself in check, forcing herself to stay patient. She was clearly eager to know everything about them, why they were there, who they were, what their lives were like.

Darcy was just as impatient to find out more about them. “What is this place?” she asked.

“This is the primary instruction center. Here, the Sectilius brought the wild kuboderan paralarvae they obtained elsewhere and educated them, preparing them for life as a gubernaviti. From here, they would be taken to another center to be trained on simulators and finally aboard ships. This is also where those who had already been instructed in this manner were returned, as I was. Those of us who are left were at various stages of primary conditioning and reconditioning.”

“Reconditioning?” Goab asked. “For what purpose?”

“As a consequence for crimes against our sectilian masters,” Ei’Joh replied solemnly.

Darcy and the rest of the team exchanged nervous glances.

“What was your crime?” Do’Vela interjected suddenly.

“Ah. Little one. Welcome,” Ei’Joh said. Darcy sensed a quick and thorough exchange of informal greetings and information between them. “My crime was loving my Quasador Dux too much, trusting her, and allowing her to spend most of her free time alone with me, to the exclusion of members of her own species. Such attachment is frowned upon. She began to consider investigating the components of the yoke in order to give me more freedom. Her plan was discovered.”

Darcy had learned of this sectilian yoke through Jane Holloway and the crews of the Speroancora and Oblignatus. The thought of chaining a kuboderan this way was repugnant to Jane and her crews, and Darcy felt the same way. She didn’t disguise these thoughts. “But it doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong…”

“Be that as it may, I was found guilty and sentenced to reconditioning. My fate was to be here, to protect and groom these youth when the sectilians who presided over this place met dusk. We have been waiting for the Sectilius to return. When that did not occur, we knew we would eventually be discovered.” There was a tone of fatalism in her mental voice.

“Nearly a standard century,” Parp said softly. He made a clucking sound at the back of his throat.

“And now that you have found us, what are your plans?”

“She thinks we’re going to exploit them,” Do’Vela said, her voice sounding not unlike a sob.

“Plans?” Darcy said. “We don’t have any plans. We were just curious to find out what was here.”

Ei’Joh drifted closer to the glass partition, her large eyes studying Darcy minutely. “If you do not, others will come eventually.”

“If that’s not what you want, I can instruct my teams to set up anti-anipraxia devices that will prevent others from detecting you the way we did. Parts of this solar system have been in use for a while by some unsavory characters. It’s a miracle they didn’t notice you, but maybe they always took other routes through the system.” Darcy remained passive and open as Ei’Joh explored her memory of the devices that she’d seen Alan Bergen use on the Oblignatus that scrambled the ability to use anipraxia outside of specific areas. When Ei’Joh seemed satisfied, Darcy continued. “Or, if you want, we could transport you somewhere else with more room—someplace more natural for your species.”

“Captain, we don’t have any sort of transport that could move this many kuboderans,” Parp said.

“I know. But I could have something converted. It could be done.”

He nodded. “Yes, but it would be costly.” Parp turned away, his head bent like he was listening to something. He must be getting a report from his team on the ship.

“We have been attempting to achieve this sort of conversion here, but progress is slow,” Ei’Joh said. One of her long tentacles looped out to gesture at the console in her watery room. “This was our first prototype. Within a sectilian vessel, kuboderans commonly use devices made to function within their enclosures, but the secrets of the coexistence of electronics and water are not to be found here. We have been forced to reinvent them. This is an arduous process for us.”

Suddenly, the appearance earlier of a kuboderan half in, half out of a fish tank on wheels didn’t seem so strange. “Wow. You’ve had your work cut out for you.”

“Indeed.” Their long-term plans unfolded in Darcy’s mind. First they would build the consoles, then install them in the ships in the atrium. Then these small ships would begin a systematic search for a world where they might be more comfortable. All of this would take decades at least.

Tesserae71 turned to Darcy, “Captain, it occurs to me that their biggest obstacle is the work required in an air-breathing environment. We have many hymenoptera aboard our fleet who are eager to work, who also long to find a new home. Perhaps an arrangement could be made that would be beneficial to both?”

She considered that. Most worlds had plenty of land and water; assuming they could find one that was suitable, such a planet would be easy to share. It would have to be remote. Both the kuboderans and the hymenoptera would be at risk for being taken and sold. “They’d have to volunteer,” Darcy said.

The others went on discussing. Darcy fell back to brood over this. These people clearly needed help. And she wanted to help them.

But they weren’t in any immediate danger.

Adam, on the other hand, might be.

The conversation lulled for a moment. “We’re going to return to the ship now to discuss strategies. We’ll be in touch with possible solutions and a timetable as soon as we can.”

It was a bit rude. Everyone but Parp was surprised. She couldn’t deal with all that right now. She performed a quick farewell and marched back to the ship. She didn’t say a word on the return trip.

She just stared at the picture, blown up until it was grainy, floating inside her HUD.

27

Falrau paced her room.

She’d sat down to sew, but the act seemed so mundane after the last few days. Meeting all of these new kinds of people, exploring new places—asteroids and dead worlds, and fighting on the side of righteousness—gave her a feeling akin to a sparring match with a talented opponent. Thrilling was the best word that matched the sensation.

She was doing some good here on the outside. She felt needed.

But now she’d been returned to her rooms, was faced with staring at the walls or sewing, and found herself claustrophobic and exceedingly bored.

Falrau was no stranger to routine. She’d enjoyed a stimulating but mildly repetitive life on Loveka. But now, here, there was so much to see and investigate. She was beginning to understand why her brother had chosen to live his life away. She would have to guard against becoming dissipated to the same extent.

She grimaced. The outside was changing her. She was completely aware of this and unable to feel remorse. She was becoming worldlier, just as the old sages warned, but were they accurate that such a personal transformation was negative in nature? What was the goal of such assertions? Was that rooted in a historical context that no longer made sense?

It didn’t make sense to her. She was left with so few choices. She had no personal agency left. Darcy had offered to return her to Loveka, but the circumstances her brother had left her in made that unjustifiable. Returning now would do more harm than good for her people. What else was she to do?

Make the most of the life she had left. Do good with the tools she had at her disposal.

The team’s abrupt return to the ship had left her puzzled and frustrated. The kuboderans were fascinating and she wanted to know more about them. They were a sight to behold. Perhaps the stuff of nightmares for some—and yet so intelligent and majestic as well. A creature like that deserved to move freely in a natural environment. Their current situation seemed untenable. How could these individuals thrive under such confinement?

Darcy and the others were preoccupied with another matter that they did not disclose to her during the return trip to the Vermachten. She was not an insider in this group, only filling out the mission’s complement. She understood that. She was not master of the house there.

But if they were otherwise engaged, perhaps she could be useful in other ways.

She knocked on her door. A guard answered. She looked wary. Another guard stood behind her, equally circumspect.

“Would it be possible for me to speak with the captain briefly?” Falrau asked.

The guard’s eyes glazed over in a peculiar way, and Falrau had a sudden insight that they must be making inquiries through the ship’s kuboderan. How clever.

“No, the captain is unavailable right now. Anything else?”

Falrau inclined her head. “No. My thanks for the trouble.”

The door slid closed between them.

Do’Vela had once said that she would be happy to entertain conversation between them at any time. Clearly, she could answer the guard at a moment’s notice. Perhaps they could discuss this problem of the kuboderans and contemplate solutions.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever seek out one-to-one contact with that person again, given how intrusive it felt. But now she felt compelled.

Falrau sat primly on the edge of the bed and focused her mind on the kuboderan. She was instantly rewarded with a gentle buzz at the back of her mind.

“Lady Falrau, how lovely,” Do’Vela said.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied formally. “If you aren’t too busy, perhaps we could discuss the kuboderan situation?”

“I’m always busy, but fortunately, I can manage many processes simultaneously.”

Falrau frowned. “What do you mean?”

Do’Vela showed her a glimpse of all of the things she was working on. It was dizzying.

“You are doing all of this… right now?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is this normal for your species?”

“I’m very young and relatively inexperienced. I’m certain veteran kuboderans can do much more.”

Falrau blinked with amazement. “I find myself astounded. Are there other species that can match this feat?”

“I don’t think so. We’re pretty unique.”

“So you are. How do you think we could best help these kuboderans stranded on the planet below?”

“I like Tesserae71’s idea,” Do’Vela said.

“To see if any hymenoptera would be willing to work on these consoles they’re developing? Have you polled them yet?”

“Not yet. I could do that now.”

“If you do, and it’s not too much trouble, could you let me know how many are interested? As long as that wouldn’t break any rules. I’d like to be involved.”

“Is sewing getting boring?” Do’Vela asked. Falrau could swear the kuboderan was giggling inside her head.

Falrau broke into a smile. Do’Vela’s cheerfulness was infectious in the extreme. “Exceedingly.”

28

Darcy emerged from the connection tunnel and immediately connected with Do’Vela to brainstorm.

“Oh, Captain Darcy, hello!” the little squid effused.

Darcy removed her helmet. “Hi, Do’Vela. Did the tech team deliver the packet of partially encrypted data to you?”

“They did, yes! I know precisely what you’re going to ask and you’ll be happy to know I’ve already begun.”

Do’Vela sent impressions into Darcy’s mind of her work flow. The accompanying thoughts made it clear that her early efforts were focused on researching the courier company that had transported Adam as well as its business practices. It was reassuring to know Do’Vela was already several steps ahead of her.

“Question: would you like me to contact them directly and ask for the details about that particular job, or would you prefer that I infiltrate their systems and take the information?”

Darcy paused to think. If they asked for the data and were refused, the company might delete any records pertaining to Adam or tighten their security. That would make getting the info far more difficult. It might be better to take them unawares. “Do they have discretionary clauses in their mission statement?”

“Yes, discretion features large in their business model. I believe it will make obtaining the data fairly difficult but probably not impossible.”

“Crap,” Darcy muttered out loud. Whoever had him had been careful. She’d hoped this would be fairly easy, but that had been wishful thinking. She didn’t like these odds. As much as she wanted to rush out and bulldog her way through this, she had to be cool and make good decisions.

If they played the wrong hand, they might not get the info they needed so desperately without resorting to something more sinister than she wanted to have on her conscience. A longer game didn’t agree with her more impatient side, but she couldn’t risk even a botched hack. This was Adam they were talking about.

She considered a few different options. Sending someone in with faked government credentials might work if they said it was an investigation into fraud or slavery. That also might put the courier company on high alert, especially if they did a lot of this kind of work. Maybe something else along those lines would be better, though.

To Do’Vela she said, “It might be best to place someone undercover inside the company so we can get access that way. Surely, they wouldn’t be expecting something like that. Do they have any job openings?”

A whirl of scrolling text flickered behind Darcy’s eyes.

Do’Vela replied, “They have a listing in an industry-related board dated roughly one half-cycle ago. According to this entry, the position has not yet been filled. The qualifications are stringent, Captain.”

“Does anyone in our fleet qualify?”

“Checking…” After about two seconds, Do’Vela answered, “Only one. Ambassador Nembrotha.”

“Where is Nembrotha now?”

“They are on the bridge, Captain.”

Darcy sighed and turned around, heading for the bridge.

Nembrotha was going to love this.

This was Nembrotha in their element. They didn’t bat an eye at Darcy’s suggestion. They simply turned and flew into motion, filling out the extensive application requirements, requesting references from the most prestigious people they knew, demanding the highest-tier pay grade as well as the right to choose their own working partner.

“Are you certain that making such high demands will go in our favor?” Selpis asked with a worried frown. “The most important thing is to be hired.”

Nembrotha’s ocular stalks swiveled toward Selpis briefly. “Nonsense. I must have a position from which to bargain. They expect nothing less than that from someone with such an exalted background. To do otherwise would be suspicious. I know what I’m doing.”

Selpis sent Darcy a helpless look.

Darcy shrugged. Generally, Nembrotha’s instincts were good, and she’d grown to trust them. She went back to staring at her own screen, the words blurring and merging together from fatigue. They may operate for all intents and purposes as pirates, but someone had to keep track of all of the bank statements and expenditures.

Hain and Selpis managed most of it, but Darcy had to sign off on it all as the captain and owner. There were endless requisitions for repair work, uniforms, fuel, food, and water. There was the payroll to approve. Managing an ever-growing fleet wasn’t all fun and games and blowing up stuff. She would have put this off another day, but she wanted to keep half an eye on Nembrotha.

When she couldn’t make her eyes focus on the words anymore, she stood, intending to return to her rooms to try to relax for a while. She’d been going full bore for days with very little rest. Maybe she’d try to catch some sleep if she could, though she doubted that would happen anytime soon. She couldn’t stop thinking about how close they were to finding Adam. And there were the kuboderans on the planet below to think about as well. Before she got to the door, however, Nembrotha crowed, “Hah! They want an interview before all my references are even in.”

“What? Already?” Darcy asked.

Selpis turned wide eyes on her. “It hasn’t even been an hour since we submitted the application. They have requested that Nembrotha and his proposed partner meet with them as soon as possible.”

Nembrotha leaned out from Selpis’s shoulder toward Darcy. “Considering it’s a courier company that boasts a quick turnaround, the faster we arrive, the more we’ll impress them.”

Darcy worried her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. “Take the Charock. It’s fast, not terribly large, and has both a cargo area and extensive seating for passengers. The Vermachten can open a jump window for you that should take you most of the way there.”

“Perfect,” Nembrotha said, stretching the word out in a pleased tone. “Of course, the ship will need to be in my name.”

Darcy nodded. “Selpis can take care of that. Leave as soon as you have everything in order. Maintain communications silence in case they watch new recruits carefully. I’ll assume you got the job unless I hear from you. As soon as you have the information we need, quit in a huff over something, leave the system, and make contact over one of the usual encrypted channels. We’ll set up a rendezvous point then.”

“Spy talk!” Nembrotha let out a wet chortle. “I love it! I shall infiltrate the asset, establish my cover, and extract the intel.”

“Captain Darcy?”

Darcy jumped minutely, a twitch she hoped no one else in the corridor saw. Do’Vela’s communications had a way of catching her off guard, especially when she was tired. She was almost to her rooms for a much-needed rest. “Yes, Do’Vela?”

“I’ve inquired among the hymenoptera population to discover who would be interested in working with the kuboderans on the planet below. Happily, we have many non-hymenoptera volunteers as well. I’ve assembled a list of personnel. Shall I send it to your console in your quarters?”

Darcy arrived in her room and picked up a tablet. She was too tired to sit up anymore. “Send it to this tablet.” The screen lit up. She scrolled through the list as she picked through the debris on her dining table, looking for a nutrition bar or something else to eat. Fifty-four people had volunteered. That was a lot more than she usually got for any given mission, but she supposed this one sounded a lot safer than most, so that was understandable. And everyone liked Do’Vela. So, it made sense they’d want to help her out when she asked for these kinds of volunteers.

The first person on the list was Falrau.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She’d seen Falrau’s immaculately clean quarters, observed her stitching on her fancy fabrics. She seemed so prim. What would she do down there? She didn’t know her well enough to have an answer for that.

She found a half-eaten bar and shoved a bite in her mouth, chewing without tasting. There were a lot of names from the tech team. That was fine, but if she ended up having to leave teams here when she met back up with Nembrotha and Selpis, she wouldn’t want to leave all the technically competent folks behind. She might need them.

Yes, that was selfish. But this was Adam.

“A group is ready to go down now, if you approve.”

Darcy yawned. She really should go back down herself, but she was beat and needed to rest first. She looked at the list again. If Selpis weren’t about to head out with Nembrotha, she would have sent her in a supervisory role. Selpis was diplomatic and a good leader. Hain would have been another good choice, but she was very busy with Wahndis and the hymenoptera stem cell treatment at the moment. This new relationship with these Kuboderans could become important at some point. She didn’t want anyone screwing it up.

“Who would you put on point?” Darcy asked as she curled up on the bed for the second time in who knew how long, fully clothed, still chewing.

“Lady Falrau is overqualified to lead a group of this nature.”

“No. Too soon,” Darcy replied.

“You don’t trust her?”

“Not yet.”

“What about Goab? He’s ready to go back down now.”

Darcy squinched her face up in disbelief and hugged a pillow to her chest. “Doesn’t that guy ever sleep?”

“I believe so.”

Darcy rubbed her eyes. They felt dry and scratchy. It made her even more tired just thinking about how tireless he was.

“That’s fine. Send a team of twelve to investigate what the kuboderans need. Rotate every standard quarter-day with an overlap of an hour so the new teams can get up to speed from the old teams. Stay in contact with Ei’Joh and make sure that they’re happy. If anyone pisses them off, pull that person from the rotation. If they don’t like what the teams are doing, pull the teams. We’re not going in there to take over, just to help. Make sure you make that clear to both them and the teams.”

“Acknowledged. May you enjoy beneficent dreams, Captain Darcy.”

“Mmmm,” she replied. That was unlikely. And she passed out.

29

Darcy clung to Adam. He’d just walked through the door and she’d leapt up to greet him from the sofa where she’d been curled in a tight knot. She was exhausted. Her day had been brutal. She had no idea how well she’d done on her exams, and all she wanted was her safe haven.

He felt stiff and was still. He must have had a rough day too.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she choked out, near tears with relief that he was finally there. It felt like she’d waited forever. She squeezed him tighter.

He was still resisting, restrained. Maybe he needed some encouragement. She broke away and pulled him toward the bedroom, her eyes lowered. He came along, slowly.

His silent brooding worried her. Why wasn’t he reacting? Why didn’t he say anything, do anything? This wasn’t like him at all.

They lay together, fully clothed, her clutching him, him passively accepting. Maybe he was just preoccupied with work today. He wasn’t going to take the initiative this time. She didn’t mind. She could do that part, easily.

There was an ache inside her. She wanted to feel his skin touching hers, to lose herself in sex. It would bring them both satisfaction and relief. There would be relaxation on the other side and shared bliss. Nothing but good.

She sat up and swept off her shirt, flinging it across the room. The bra followed. Then pants and underwear in an undignified wriggle. He watched silently, not moving to touch her. She lay back down, easing up his shirt.

“Adam,” she whispered, a breath in his ear. “I need—”

“No,” he said. He sat up, pushing her off him roughly. He perched on the edge of the bed, head bowed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a quiet voice, panic flooding through her chest with a painful squeeze.

Some part of her knew it was a dream. It was a variation on the same dream she’d had so many times that she couldn’t fail to recognize it.

It manifested the fear that Adam wouldn’t want her anymore when she finally found him.

Even so, it felt so damn real. That small part that knew couldn’t seem to convince her to stop feeling the terrible emotions, to stop what she knew was going to happen next.

“No. I can’t do this anymore, Darcy.” He stood and walked out of the room.

Again.

She went after him. “Why?”

He kept heading for the door.

“Adam—talk to me. Don’t just walk away.”

“Captain Darcy—please wake up!”

Darcy blinked. The room was dark. She was disoriented, not sure for a moment where she was. Had she just had another nightmare?

No, this was the nightmare.

Adam was where she wanted to be. She needed to get back to him. She rolled onto her back and instantly started drifting again.

“Captain Darcy, you must awaken with alacrity!”

“Wha…” Darcy propped herself up on her elbows, trying to get her bearings. “What is it?”

“Trouble is on the way. You’re needed on the bridge.”

The urgency of Do’Vela’s voice finally broke through the fog. She swept the covers aside. “Lights on,” she commanded, then squinted against the instant glare. Reaching down, she grabbed the pair of shoes she’d left at the side of her bed, slipping them on automatically. She sat up and sniffed. “What trouble?”

“A destroyer-class ship accompanied by five support ships is on a direct course to intercept.”

Darcy leapt up and raced for the door.

“Where are they coming from?” But she already knew the answer. It came to her as soon as the adrenaline hit.

“Their course indicates an origin of Talus 3.”

She ran for the bridge, brushing heedlessly past people in the corridor without so much as an “Excuse me.”

“Call back the teams on the ground. We’ll jump.” Better to avoid a fight that would risk lives. It was only a matter of time before one of their catch-and-release slavers caught back up with them, wanting revenge. They lived like vagabonds, always moving, always looking over their shoulder, never adopting notable patterns, as one method of preventing that from happening. So far, that had worked.

But not today.

“Not advisable. It’s too late. They’ll get caught out before this fleet arrives.”

“Go to red alert.”

The lighting changed to a red hue and a warning klaxon sounded.

“Why didn’t we see them sooner?”

“They traveled most of the way in the shadow of the third planet. We detected them on our last orbital pass. I woke you immediately.”

“Call all hands to battle stations.”

“Aye, Captain Darcy.”

Now there were lots of people racing through the corridors.

She arrived on the bridge. The fleet in question was already up on screen and closer than she’d hoped. It looked like the destroyer had two small frigates and three corvettes with it. It was quite a hodgepodge of ship types. She didn’t recognize any of them.

A hymenoptera she didn’t know was seated at the sensor console. Damn. Goab was still down on the planet. Selpis and Nembrotha were already gone. She was in this with a bunch of newbs. And no one was on weapons yet. “Where’s Hain?”

“On her way, Captain Darcy.”

“Who are they?” Darcy asked aloud.

“The destroyer is named the Vile Sniper, Captain,” the hymenoptera on sensors said.

“Lovely. Your name?” she said to him.

“Sclerotin54, Captain.”

“Nice to meet you, Sclerotin54. How did they find us?”

“I presume they tracked our ion emissions from the main drive.”

Hain arrived and seated herself at the vacant weapons console.

“If we’d jumped out of the system, they wouldn’t have been able to find us,” Darcy muttered. And now they’d have to defend the kuboderans, too. If the captain of that fleet had a brain in their head, they’d realize that there was something of value down there. “Do’Vela, tell the people planetside they better bring their transport into the mountain and shut the door ASAP.”

“Already done, Captain Darcy.”

That was something.

“Good thinking, Do’Vela.”

“My thanks for the recognition, Captain Darcy.”

If the people on the ground were hidden… they could open a jump window and come back later. But these guys might start looking around to see what Darcy’s fleet had been doing there. They might find her people and the defenseless kuboderans. She couldn’t risk that. “Are we a match for them?”

“Comparisons are difficult due to the nature of our fleet’s origins. However, they appear to be more heavily armored than most of our fleet, excluding the Vermachten, of course. However, we boast more firepower, all told,” Sclerotin54 clacked.

“They’re hailing us,” Darcy47 said from the comm station.

Darcy glanced at Hain. Her slit of a mouth was turned down.

“Put them through, audio only.”

“Well, well, well. The Vermachten. What a treat. Your reputation precedes you,” a voice said in a falsely smarmy way. Darcy couldn’t tell the gender of the speaker from the voice alone.

Darcy strove to sound unconcerned. “Our reputation as a long-haul food transport? I’m glad to hear we’re so well known. We serve our clients as fairly as possible. I guess it’s true what they say—word of mouth is the best form of advertisement.”

“Let’s set aside the charades, shall we? You blew up my space station. That was an expensive mistake—which I’m about to make you pay for, with interest.”

Was there any point in lying? Could she talk her way out of it? Throw some confusion into the mix to sow some doubt? Even a couple more minutes for her people to scramble into a semblance of readiness might help them come out on top. She decided to keep bluffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a passenger that’s a scientist doing a study on barren worlds in the fringe. He just finished collecting his samples, and we’ll be on our way. If someone blew up your space station, I’m sorry to say I didn’t see anything helpful.”

“Amusing. If you hadn’t already established yourself on the record in opposition to my industry, and we didn’t have indisputable evidence that you just left the region of Talus 3, I might almost believe you.”

Do’Vela’s voice spoke in her head, “They’re about to come into weapons range, and they have missile bays open and laser weapons charging, Captain Darcy.”

“Order the fleet to do the same,” Darcy told Do’Vela silently.

Darcy let out a shaky breath but kept her voice edgy and strong. She needed to stall as long as possible. “What do you want?”

The voice sounded bored. “I want you dead.”

There was no point in any more lies. “I rescued your people after a catastrophic breach left most of the inhabitants of Talus 3—and all of your merchandise—dead. Those that survived the results of the shoddy build of your space station are alive and well.” She put a sneer into the words merchandise and space station. There was no point in being nice anymore.

“Oh? These stories keep getting better and better. I’m supposed to believe you’re a philanthropist? And why did you blow up the station?”

“It was a health hazard. Clearly.”

The voice didn’t sound so cool and collected anymore. She could almost feel the spittle raining down from the raging lips inside the Vile Sniper. “That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“In the absence of any local government, I appointed myself a health and safety officer,” Darcy said, keeping her own voice unperturbed, though inside she was plenty perturbed. “Do you want your people back or not?”

“They have cut the connection, Captain,” Darcy47 said.

“They’re firing weapons!” Sclerotin54 said, an edge of panic swallowing up most of his vowel sounds.

30

Upon arrival on the kuboderan planet, Goab spoke to the matriarch, Ei’Joh, and assigned teams to assess what the kuboderans were trying to accomplish and what they’d done so far. He assigned Falrau to his own team, along with one of her guards, as note-taker.

This suited Falrau fine, as she didn’t have any skill or interest in technology, but it did require diligence on her part to ensure her notes were accurate, including the spelling of many of the unknown terms Goab and the others used. They seemed mildly annoyed with her constant questioning, but that didn’t bother her. It was better to be right the first time than to make mistakes later based on poor notes.

When Goab spoke to her directly, she did find it difficult to focus on his eyes as she should. Those appendages on his face constantly moved, catching her attention. She wondered what they were for and if it would be impolite to ask. She decided it was. For now. And determined to ignore them as much as possible.

The task was painstaking and thorough, just as it should be. A kuboderan in a motorized tank accompanied them throughout, explaining things when necessary. His name was Do’Nim. She longed to ask him many questions about his life there, but that did not seem appropriate just yet.

Falrau spied one kuboderan walking by in a fully mechanized suit that enveloped all of their many limbs. It was a marvel to observe. When she asked Do’Nim about it, he said it was a prototype machine and very difficult to master. He said it was only used for brief excursions, because it was impossible to keep such a small amount of water clean and well oxygenated for long periods of time. The environment became toxic within a few hours. It had been a dead end in their endeavors to develop ways to escape this world, one that had taken decades to achieve.

Falrau frowned. To be a sentient waterborne creature in an installation tailor-made for air-breathers was quite a challenge. Where had these people come from? What was that world like? She wondered how Do’Vela was housed on the Vermachten and how much freedom she enjoyed.

Their group of twelve came back together for a meal, and the kuboderans left them alone. A hymenoptera passed out the bland nutritional bars that seemed to be a staple within the fleet, as well as some pouches of water.

There was a great deal of chatter among them about the things they’d seen, as they compared notes about the technology, the Kubodera themselves, and the sectilian facility. Falrau listened for anything about the people, her primary interest, and ignored the tech talk.

The back of her mind buzzed in that peculiar way that it did when she spoke with Do’Vela. She looked up to see faces with inward-looking expressions throughout the group. Do’Vela said, “There are ships en route from Talus 3. Move the Klau inside the sectilian enclave and close the door to avoid detection.”

Goab stood and Falrau heard him inside her head saying, “We’re on our way.”

“Not enough time. You must hide. I am currently requesting that the kuboderans stay as silent as possible in order to avoid detection.”

Goab began to pace. All the little appendages on his body moved with greater agitation than usual. He turned abruptly. “Did anyone see any sort of planetary-defense weaponry during their survey?”

The general consensus was no, that all they’d seen was science-based equipment and that which was intended to maintain the kuboderan enclosures.

One of the hymenoptera said, “I do believe I saw a sensor array. Perhaps we could use that to monitor the situation remotely?”

“Good. Show me,” Goab replied.

Falrau frowned and followed the others as they set off into the corridors in search of the sensors. She found herself contemplating the powers these kuboderan minds possessed and the vast distances they were able to communicate over. She remembered the pain and confusion their inquisitiveness had created when their initial expedition had arrived. It had been incapacitating.

She formed an idea.

She didn’t doubt that Darcy had the situation well in hand, but if they could lend some aid from here…

She pulled Goab aside and gave voice to her idea. He’d been in the process of calibrating the sensors. Apparently, they’d gone unused since the death of the sectilian people that had lived there long before.

At first, he seemed irritated at the interruption, but as she spoke, his narrowed eyes widened. He smiled. “I like the way you think,” he said. He stared at the sensor array for a moment, then looked back to Falrau. “You talk to Ei’Joh while I finish here.”

Falrau bowed her head in respect and withdrew some distance to avoid the distraction of the crew’s excited speculation as they worked on the sensor equipment. She concentrated on Ei’Joh as she had done once with Do’Vela.

“Lady Falrau, is it?” the commanding voice echoed in her head.

“Felicitations, most exalted Ei’Joh,” Falrau said, remembering her diplomatic training. “As I’m certain you are aware, our fleet is under attack.” Ei’Joh’s mental presence was very different from Do’Vela’s. It had a weight and maturity to it that Do’Vela’s lacked—a sobriety.

“Do’Vela has briefed me in entirety, yes. A most unorthodox choice of pursuit, to free those less fortunate from malefactors and yet refrain from giving dusk to the perpetrators. We are grateful it was your fleet who first discovered us, and for the aid you now provide to my people.”

“I wonder if you would find it agreeable to assist us in defense of our fleet,” Falrau asked.

“Most agreeable. However, I do not see how this is possible.”

“If you will be so kind as to forgive me should I err, as I do not wish to give offense—indeed, I am in awe of your strength and amazed by your ability to survive and thrive in this environment—but I ask you to bring to mind the first moments of our arrival.”

It was evident instantly that Ei’Joh knew where she was leading. “What a clever line of thought,” she said. “To my knowledge, such a thing has never been done. That will not deter us. We are eminently adaptable by necessity. We will do as you suggest. Only tell us when.”

Falrau bowed instinctively and knew, though Ei’Joh could not see her visually, that she apprehended the gesture and its meaning. The link between them lightened but did not sever. She returned to her group, huddled around a display, speaking in hushed tones.

Goab looked up. “What did she say?”

“She agreed. We simply give them a signal when it’s time.”

He looked grave and gestured toward the screen. “They’re evenly matched. So far, only one of our ships has taken damage, but it will be difficult to rout them. I suspect they’re about to try the Chaos Waltz maneuver. That will be the perfect time for the kuboderans to do their thing.”

Falrau raised an eyebrow at this but did not think this was the time to ask for an explanation. “I remain linked with her. She will know when you say it is time.”

Goab stared intently at the display, watching the red and blue dots moving around. Occasionally, he touched the screen, rotating the viewing angle so he could see the ships in another dimension. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Pairs are breaking off and attacking. This is the Chaos Waltz. Have them do it now.”

As soon as Goab uttered those words, Falrau felt the dozens of kuboderans within the compound reach out, connecting to every individual within the enemy ships.

As one, they screamed.

31

Darcy felt the weight of every mind in the fleet waiting for her command. She steeled herself and set all her qualms aside. She had to be the leader they needed right now if they were going to survive. “Take evasive action. They want a fight. We’ll give them one. Now we get to put all our practice into action. We got this.”

The Vile Sniper and its companions drove through them, firing. Darcy’s fleet scattered, swirling away in unpredictable ways, just as they’d trained. They were a ragtag bunch, but they’d been preparing for this eventuality. She’d always known someday they’d have to fight for their lives. It couldn’t be easy forever.

“The Aku Mon took a direct hit but is still operational. Minor damage throughout the rest of the fleet,” Sclerotin54 said.

“Let’s start by letting them think we’re going to fight conventionally, then we’ll show them they won’t mess with us and get away with it. Form up into torpedo phalanx on my mark—front of the phalanx, be ready to fire. Vermachten, prepare five ghost missiles for launch and get gravitational bombs and flash bombardment ready, to be used together on a delay. Hold for my command.”

This formation put the most vulnerable ships behind those with the most shielding to protect them. The Vermachten would take point at the head of the spear. She was missing those three fighters she’d sent to Hain’s homeworld. They’d come in handy in this fight.

“Form up,” Darcy said via anipraxia. “Aku Mon, stay in the Vermachten’s wake. You don’t need to take another hit.”

Her ships smoothly turned and regrouped behind the Vermachten. The fleet training exercises she’d put them through had worked out well. She reminded them, “These are the bad guys that built that horrible place, kept those people caged like animals, and then let them die. We’re about to get some new candidates for relocation and add five more ships to our fleet. Fire to disable.”

As one, Darcy’s fleet moved toward the Vile Sniper.

“Ghost missiles ready, Captain Darcy,” Do’Vela said.

“In weapons range… now,” Sclerotin54 said.

“Fire at will,” Darcy said to the fleet.

Hain’s long, woody fingers flicked over her console. Darcy saw missiles jetting out ahead of them on the screen. Brief flares of orange light, instantly extinguished by the vacuum of space, flashed over the ships they targeted.

“Their armor is intact. We’ve done very little damage,” Sclerotin54 said.

That didn’t surprise Darcy. She kept the Vermachten moving forward in a game of chicken until they were within ramming distance just to make them panic a little bit, then ordered, “Link up targeting and navigation through your assigned kuboderan to avoid friendly fire. Prepare for Chaos Waltz Maneuver on my signal. Vermachten, give them a taste of our ghost missiles before we get started.”

The Vermachten pulled up, looped around, and went back for another pass from above, dropping one preprogrammed ghost missile for each ship to contend with.

Darcy had learned from Raub to keep an opponent off balance. Over the years, they’d accumulated quite a few items to that end. With nearly every slaver ship they’d picked up, they’d found tech onboard that these slavers used to evade capture by local authorities. They’d developed each of these illegal technologies and made up a few of their own. This would be their first time putting them into practice. Ghost missiles didn’t impact a target; they simply manufactured the illusion that there were three fighters swarming around each ship, confusing their sensors. The missiles themselves were tiny, overshadowed by the illusions they created, and unlikely to become a target themselves.

They produced results immediately. The Vile Sniper and its fleet were firing at the phantom ships in addition to her fleet, splitting their focus. Now she would add to their confusion.

“Prepare to launch a flash bombardment combined with gravity bombs, delayed detonation,” Darcy said via anipraxia

The Vermachten swiveled and dove, avoiding a volley of missiles launched by the Vile Sniper. A laser from one of the Sniper’s support ships clipped them on the port side but didn’t penetrate. Darcy gritted her teeth. The repairs were going to be expensive. So far, no one was hurt. She intended to keep it that way.

“Flash and grav ready, Captain Darcy,” Do’Vela said.

“Drive by and deploy. Stand by to detonate. Get in position for Chaos Waltz. Aku Mon, take a position on the far side of the planet and wait for this to be over.”

Chaos Waltz was Darcy’s invention. Fighting, she had decided long before, was something like a dance but went far better if the target perceived one’s strikes as unpredictable. When multiple ships were involved, there was always the risk of damage by friendly fire. One day, she had sat down with Hain and Yunto, and together with Do’Vela, they had fleshed out this idea.

Pairs of her fleet’s ships would swoop in and fire and then dive off in a sequence. All the while, every ship in the fleet was moving and repositioning. Each time, pairing, as well as the sequence and repositioning, changed. To an outsider, this might look like a dance, but to the enemy, it should feel very chaotic. Once the idea was fleshed out, Do’Vela converted it to a simulated computer model and finally to an algorithm that took into account variables like opponent movement. With all of the kuboderans and navigational computers linked, it was implementable. They’d practiced it until it was old hat. Now was their chance to see how it worked against a real enemy.

Her ships swarmed around the Vile Sniper and its companions. They still seemed to be occupied with the ghost missile ships.

“Detonate flash and grav,” Darcy ordered. “Begin Chaos Waltz Maneuver. Fire to disable. Remember, we want these ships.”

The flash bombs didn’t create any visual flash, but they did screw up most ship’s sensors for at least a few minutes. Her own fleet had their sensors calibrated to filter out this extra noise. The gravity bombs attached themselves to the hulls of ships and pulsed localized heavy artificial gravity in randomly spaced waves. This also messed with sensors and could throw a ship slightly off course so that their shots wouldn’t hit their marks. Not to mention that it played hell with many species’ inner ear. Disorientation and vomiting was a common side effect. That might make it a little more difficult to shoot at them.

All of these devices had been expensive to manufacture, but when it came down to survival, Darcy hadn’t scrimped. She would not contemplate losing her people. No one was expendable. It just wasn’t an option. There would always be bigger ships to go up against, more dangerous foes. This day had always been going to come. She had to be smarter than all of them if they were going to survive.

The dance began.

Darcy watched, her body tensed, as her fleet began the dance. It was working. The Vile Sniper and her accompanying vessels couldn’t get a lock on anything. Darcy’s ships were moving too fast, too erratically. Eventually, the attackers just stopped trying. Darcy’s countermeasures worked better than she’d hoped. It was like spearing fish in a barrel. It went quickly after that.

They disabled every ship.

Hain stood and faced her. She inclined her head the tiniest bit. Darcy got the message. Hain was proud of her.

Darcy exhaled slowly. She was just glad it was almost over. Now they just had to lock these jokers up and find them a new home.

Over the anipraxic link, Hain broadcasted fleetwide, “We are now taking volunteers for boarding parties. Report to your designated kuboderan for assignment.”

“Captain Darcy, the kuboderans on the planet below have done something remarkable,” Do’Vela said.

“What’s that?” Darcy asked.

“During the Chaos Waltz Maneuver, they implemented a technique I’ve never heard of, never conceived of. A sort of mass mind control. In fact, the enemy remains in their thrall even now.”

“What? I thought you’d told them to stay quiet so they wouldn’t be noticed?”

“Apparently, they thought it would be better to help us. It seems that this was Lady Falrau’s idea.”

“Huh,” Darcy said. That was a surprise. She wouldn’t have expected Falrau to take such initiative. Clearly, Falrau was just as devious as her brother. That was more than a little scary—not to mention the idea of mass kuboderan mind control. But there was no time to think about those things now. There was too much to do. At least they were on her side. “Well, that should make the boarding procedure easy enough. Alert the other ships’ captains to this new detail. Let’s get our teams in there ASAP.”

“Aye, Captain Darcy.”

32

Adam had developed a tolerance for the pain.

Or maybe his captors had finally hit upon a pain medication that worked at least a little bit on humans. They silently injected him regularly with mystery substances. They continued to put him through surgery after surgery, but he bounced back more quickly than before and he felt like he was getting stronger, more sure of himself. His head was clearer. Sleep no longer dominated his existence. Despite what they were putting him through, they were remaking him into something new, something better. He could feel it.

And that made the pain of his transformation more bearable.

They’d finally uncovered his eyes. Now he could see with an acuity he didn’t know was possible. When Raub came to visit, Adam could see all the way down to his individual pores and the hairs within them from several feet away, even with very little light in the room. He only had to concentrate, and the details came into focus.

Darkness was no longer an unknown quantity. Without a single light, he could still make out the shapes of the objects within his room.

And that wasn’t all.

They’d enhanced his sense of smell. Though he’d been housed in the same room for months on end, his surroundings had come alive in new and exciting ways. When he ate, he could swear that he could not only taste and smell the individual components of the food but also the compounds that made up each ingredient.

Flavor took on new meaning. Even the most mundane nutritional bar overflowed with complexity. He sometimes rolled one bite around in his mouth for ten minutes before swallowing, just letting his mind catalog every last note.

And his skin! They’d had to reinforce the straps holding him down with more and stronger plastic-coated metal bands because his new arm was so strong, the originals couldn’t hold him down anymore. And at that very same time, something had changed. Drastically. After they’d tied him down again, his skin had warmed the plastic, and he’d had this lingering sensation that he could smell and taste it. It just wouldn’t go away.

At first, he kept sniffing and smacking his lips, trying to make sense of it. Where had it come from? Why was it so constant? Somehow, he was sure it had something to do with his arm. This bizarre sensation wasn’t in his nose or mouth. He’d spent days trying to figure out what this new sensory input was.

He kept dreaming that his arm was eating the plastic or absorbing it or something, and he’d finally realized he was sensing the chemicals the plastic was made from with the skin of that arm. Once he realized that, he’d asked Raub to put a bit of food in that hand, and he found he could taste that, too. It was amazing.

Adam’s hearing had become astounding as well. It could be overwhelming. With Raub’s help, he learned to isolate and exclude so he heard only what he really wanted to. But he could hear everything—even the friction of individual hairs in Raub’s mane rubbing against each other as he casually brushed it out of his face two feet from him.

Adam wasn’t entirely human anymore. He was something better.

He had Darcy to thank for that. She’d gotten them caught when she foolishly used her powers and attracted the attention of the aliens.

She’d always been selfish—he could see that now. She’d always put herself and her career before him. So driven, so self-important, that she’d ignored him most of the time. He’d tolerated it, told himself it would all be worth it someday. That had been a weakness.

She’d abused his kindness. He’d been too soft. Too understanding. A damn fool, catering to her, helping her, and getting nothing in return.

Raub had helped him see that.

She’d been exploiting him—using him as her monetary support system to get herself an education. She would have dumped him as soon as she got her degree.

When he looked back, he realized his friends had even warned him, but he hadn’t wanted to see it. It took an outsider to see that he was blinded by her. She’d worked her feminine magic on him and he’d just gone along with it.

It was all crystal-clear.

But he was better than her now. Stronger. He’d show her one day, all the things he could do. And Raub too. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. A team.

And there would be a reckoning.

He’d accepted what had happened to him. He’d been taken from his home, abandoned by the person professing to care for him more than anyone else in the universe, and then he’d been tortured by aliens as they remade him into something new.

Fixed the damage she’d done to him.

That fucking bitch.

Raub was always there for him, easing his pain, soothing his angst, making him feel whole as they took him apart piece by piece and put him back together again. The best kind of true friend. Raub was going through the same thing and always remained upbeat about it. He made the confinement bearable. He could count on Raub.

Adam had never given a thought to the existence of aliens when he was back home on Earth. Now he was among them. One of them. Despite his imprisonment, he belonged like he never had before.

He belonged. In this infinitely diverse universe, he belonged somewhere.

Adam could tolerate more, was more easily distracted from the pain. He and Raub spent hours on end discussing a future so real, he could envision it effortlessly. They would find a place where they could reside in quiet solitude, living off the land. A place where they could plan their revenge.

But they had to prepare.

Raub coached him daily through visualization exercises. While Adam couldn’t exercise his body the way he’d always loved to do—not yet—he could easily imagine what he would soon be capable of.

Raub taught him about the hunt. How to track and how to survive. He created complex scenarios, and together they moved through them verbally, step by step, over and over again, rehearsing each scenario until the concepts were so solid in Adam’s mind, it felt like he’d done them in practice. How to test the air, how to listen for the sounds that betrayed a prey’s flight, how to see the most minute changes in the environment for evidence of the prey’s presence, how to pursue them until they were weak with exhaustion, and when to run them down and execute the final blow.

When the time came, he would use these skills effortlessly.

One day Raub walked in and removed Adam’s restraints. He’d found his opening and taken over the ship. The alien doctors were all dead and gone. Adam had no idea how he’d done it, but it wasn’t hard to believe, and it didn’t really matter. Raub was extremely intelligent, and he would never let them make him a slave.

And now Adam was rebuilding his strength and endurance. Readying himself.

He would track Darcy Eberhardt across the stars. He would find her. He would engage her as an equal.

He would make her pay for what she’d done to him.

And then he would be free, truly free.

Of his past. Of Darcy’s shame.

33

Darcy looked down at the tablet she held as they waited for the next ship to be brought into view and made ready for boarding. She sighed. She hadn’t heard a word from Selpis and Nembrotha. She wasn’t supposed to if everything was going well, but it was taking too long. She was going nuts filling her time with stuff like shopping for a used ship when all she wanted to do was get to Adam and make this torture be over once and for all.

But she had to wait. And she had nothing else she could do. Distracting herself with these errands was at least a positive use of her time.

Hain stood next to the window with her eyes closed, face upturned, bathing in natural light from the local star. Apparently, real sunlight was a treat, even if it was through a window on a small space station. Darcy didn’t think she’d ever seen Hain in such a good mood. She was downright peppy. Her normal deliberate, graceful movements were noticeably faster, and she had a dreamy expression on her face as they examined each ship. At least someone was happy.

“Which one is this?” Darcy said absently, not really expecting an answer from Parp or Hain. This would be the seventh ship they’d looked at that day. None of them seemed suitable for their purpose. Honestly, they all blurred together in her memory, not a single one distinct. They’d do better with one of the ships already in their possession. At least that was free.

“My favorite. I requested this one when I saw it in the catalog,” Parp said. He grinned at her and bounced on his heels a few times.

Hain’s mood seemed to be catching.

But Darcy hadn’t caught it yet.

Darcy had enough patience for about one more walkthrough before she called it quits. She desperately needed some down time. She hadn’t exercised or trained for ages. After a while, especially with all the tension she was feeling, that had set her on edge. She needed to move.

She’d changed. There was a time she couldn’t be bothered to exercise. It seemed tedious and overwhelming. Now she craved it.

At least her excuse was valid. They’d been busy.

They’d had a lot of slavers to find new homes for. Darcy had decided to split the fleet, sending six ships off in different directions on relocation missions, while she worked on other things with a small convoy of three ships, plus the Vermachten and their new windfalls. She didn’t like to divide the fleet. There was strength in numbers. But she wanted them all to be ready to take off the instant Nembrotha got the information they needed, so it was necessary.

Darcy had been forced to begin to process the paperwork for the Vile Sniper and its companion ships in order to register them in her name, a method Selpis had developed that obfuscated how they’d obtained the ships to such a degree that it was impossible to retrace them back to their original owners. It wasn’t truly paperwork, but digital forms on the galactic network hosted by the governments of dozens of planets, each with their own unique requirements, that needed to be filled out in a particular sequence to optimize the effect. It took ages to accomplish and Selpis wasn’t available to do her magic on them for her. Darcy had only just begun that magnificent headache. Selpis had to be the most patient person in the galaxy. And perhaps among the cleverest.

There’d also been a visit to the ontopo-suit merchant, as well as a stop at a new mechanic shop to drop off ships for repairs, which was always a rodeo, because they were forced to use mechanics who didn’t ask a lot of questions in some seriously dangerous locales. The Vermachten was docked and being worked on by her own crew, but progress was slow. They couldn’t possibly manage to repair the entire fleet in a reasonable amount of time.

She’d hoped to have heard back from Nembrotha by now, but hadn’t. She had to assume he was working under some kind of probationary period and was just biding his time until he got access to the records. She had faith he and Selpis would come through.

And now they were shopping for a cargo ship large enough to accommodate all of the kuboderans comfortably. The plan was to find them a new world to colonize, which was going to take time. In addition, many kuboderans had expressed interest in joining the fleet permanently.

The Vermachten would have been nearly perfect if it weren’t already their primary base of operations. It had several huge cargo areas, but many of those had recently been converted to living spaces for her people. It was also built like a tank, which was necessary, considering their occupation. Finding a ship that was similarly outfitted seemed like an impossible feat without serious structural work. She was ready to forget the idea and go back to their original plan.

The saleswoman came back into the room, her metal heels striking the stone flooring with loud echoing sounds. Her name was Sheun. The way she walked reminded Darcy of a supermodel strutting down a runway. “And now we have the majestic Pelagic. Quite different from what you’ve been looking at, and very possibly out of your price range, but it was requested.” There was an odd tone in her voice toward the end of that sentence, like she was put out by the request.

Darcy slanted an eye toward the nintergertahunt saleswoman, curious to see what kind of expression was on her face. But if she’d been perturbed, she was hiding it now. A beatific smile spread over her perfectly painted green lips.

Apparently the nintergertahunt, male and female, had adopted human cosmetic techniques after seeing them in the documentary Jane Holloway had produced, but added their own personal flair to the concept. The effect was striking against their chalky skin, or… clownish, depending on the talent of the individual. Made-up nintergertahunt were everywhere these days. Sheun had some restraint and mainly used color only on her lips and eyes, though many took the practice to bizarre extremes that looked like something out of a fashion magazine.

Darcy shifted her attention to the window. Her head jerked back. This ship was an enormous geodesic sphere with ornate swirling encrustations where each panel joined to the next. “Whoa.”

Parp looked at her, his eyes wide, nearly maniacal. “Yeah, yeah—wait ’til you see the inside.”

Darcy had never seen him act like this. She sent him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not saying a word. You have to see it for yourself.”

“It was—” the saleswoman began.

“No! Zip it,” Parp interrupted, rounding on her. “Let her experience it like we did.”

Darcy caught the look of annoyance that time. It was rapidly replaced by a bland, indulgent smile.

“Be nice,” Darcy teasingly admonished him as they walked the short distance from the display window toward the skybridge, terminating in an airlock where a boarding tunnel had unfurled from the Pelagic and attached itself. “What did you mean, ‘like we did’?”

“You’ll see,” he replied.

They entered the airlock. It cycled. Then they bounced through the boarding tunnel in zero g. Another airlock. That opened into a grand room that instantly reminded Darcy of a hotel she’d once been to in downtown Chicago that had originally been decorated in the 1920s. It was ostentatious but in a shabby sort of way. The furnishings all reflected a nautical theme with swirls and waves and what she assumed was sea life from a planet that definitely wasn’t Earth. The shells and creatures were very different shapes from what was typically used for that kind of embellishment back home.

The interior was showing its age. The flooring must have once been a vibrant deep shade of red composite but had been worn down by many footfalls in places to a dark gray substrate. A glass wall occupied the back of the room, with curving staircases framing it on both sides. The other side of the glass was dark.

“Can we get the lights on—inside?” Parp asked.

Sheun frowned and jabbed a panel near the airlock.

Lights came on within the room on the other side of the glass wall, revealing a cavernous space on the other side. Darcy moved closer to see the scope of that space and quickly realized it enclosed the entirety of the center of the ship. “What is this?”

Parp moved to stand alongside her. “This was the most fascinating place I remember visiting as a small child. It was a public aquarium that traveled nintergertahunt space, bringing the sea life from home to space stations and colony worlds for our people to admire. Growing up on a space station, you feel detached from the natural world. Something like this would bring it to you to experience. When it visited my station, I spent all my free time there, just watching these amazing creatures move through the water. I was mesmerized. It is among my dearest memories from my childhood.” He lowered his voice. “And here’s the best part. It was constructed during our civil war, so it’s extremely well fortified. It needs a support ship to use a wormhole, but the regular drives are standard and more than adequate.”

“It looks like it’s been around the block a few times. How do we know the engines and other systems are in good shape?”

“That’s why I suggested we come to Neocosmic. Their reputation in these matters is beyond reproach.”

Darcy glanced back at the saleswoman, who remained by the airlock, looking at a small tablet.

“It’s perfect,” Darcy whispered, hoping only Parp would hear her.

“We’d save a lot on retrofits, that’s for sure. We should be able to tap into the filtration system’s power conduits and supply controls just like on a sectilian ship. It’s the closest we’re going to get to a sectilian ship, since they’re still illegal to operate. And the space inside this environment is roughly fifty times larger than a typical kuboderan enclosure on a sectilian ship. We could house all the kuboderans comfortably here, if they all decide to leave with us.”

Darcy looked down at the tablet the saleswoman had provided, scrolled to the entry for the Pelagic and tapped on it. She recoiled in shock. “That’s a lot of credits.”

“I can talk her down,” he said conspiratorially. He turned and marched back to the saleswoman, announcing, “What’s your best price for the Pelagic?”

Sheun looked down her nose at him dubiously. “You want to make an offer on this ship?”

She named a price in stultifying tones, obviously irritated now. She hadn’t come down much from the sticker price.

Parp countered with half that price.

Sheun raised a brow and came back with another price not much lower than the first.

Darcy had to struggle not to roll her eyes. This was depressingly like car-buying back home.

“Why would you want this ship?” she asked quizzically.

Parp said evenly, “We have our reasons.”

“I can’t go any lower than that.”

“Then we won’t take any more of your time,” Parp replied. He turned to Darcy and Hain. “Let’s go.” He headed straight for the airlock.

Darcy and Hain looked at each other. Darcy opened her mouth to protest, but a nearly imperceptible shake of Hain’s head made her shut it again and follow Parp into the airlock. He didn’t wait for the saleswoman. He cycled and strode through the boarding tube. When Darcy started to ask him what he was doing, he held up both hands, palm out, in a gesture that she had learned long ago was akin to holding his index fingers to his lips, meaning Don’t speak. He didn’t let up until they were safely inside a tern with the door closed and on their way back to the Vermachten.

She stared at him with an obvious “what the hell” face—eyebrows raised, glaring—until he glanced at her.

“It’s a cultural thing,” he said, maneuvering the tern smoothly and accelerating. “She won’t take us seriously and come down in price—unless we walk away.”

“You sure about that? That’s a big ship. It’s probably worth that price.”

“No. They’ve had that ship in stock for years. Think about it—who would need something like that but us? They’ll come down considerably. In fact, I’ll be surprised if we don’t hear from her before we get back.”

Darcy glanced back at Hain, whose slit of a mouth was turned up at the corners.

“He’s right,” she said.

“Are you high right now?” Darcy asked.

“By your standards, possibly. Natural light is… so much more…”

Darcy turned back toward the front and heaved a sigh.

“Lovely,” Hain said, suddenly, out of the blue, almost a minute later.

“You are definitely high.”

The comm buzzed.

“That’ll be the saleswoman,” Parp said. He stopped accelerating and danced a little in his seat. He grinned. “Told you. This is going to be so amazing.”

“You’re both high,” Darcy grumbled and punched the comm. “This is Darcy Eberhardt. Go ahead.”

The comm was silent for a moment. Then the saleswoman said, “This is Sheun at Neocosmic sales. Pardon me, did you say Darcy Eberhardt? I didn’t catch your full name before.”

“Yes,” Darcy replied.

“Apologies. Please, Captain Eberhardt, come back and let’s negotiate the price for the Pelagic in earnest.” Her tone had done a complete one-eighty from earlier. Now she sounded gracious and eager to talk.

Was everyone high today?

She looked at Parp. He was nodding furiously and already turning the tern around.

“Okay. We’ll be right there.” She disconnected the comm.

They seated themselves minutes later in a room with a counter running along one wall and chairs of many sizes scattered around. Sheun walked in, then seemed to make a decision and turned around to shut the door before walking back. Her mien was far more natural. She stood before Darcy and bowed her head.

“What is even going on?” Darcy blurted out.

“She…” Hain breathed. “Is showing respect.”

Sheun looked up. “I apologize. I was brusque before. I should have asked your name. I should have paid attention. There are just so many who come to look with no intention to purchase or no credits to their name. But that’s no excuse.” She glanced at the door and lowered her tone. “You brought my sister’s son back to her. I know what you do. On behalf of my entire family, I offer you my most sincere gratitude.”

Sheun stood and walked over to the counter. “And I’m giving you the Pelagic at cost.”

“I… Okay.”

Parp stood up and slapped Darcy on the back. “Amazing.”

They drew up the paperwork and paid. One-quarter the sticker price.

The Pelagic was now a part of their growing fleet.

34

Hain looked over the results carefully.

She’d done it.

The first hymenoptera stem cell line was ready for trial.

Managing a temperamental stem cell culture derived from somatic cells had been tedious but successful. Inserting the longer telomeres into a hymenoptera haploid genome using a non-virulent viral vector had taken several attempts, but eventually she had hit upon the right methods for this species. The somatic-cell nuclear transfer that combined the two experiments into a viable treatment had driven her to distraction, but she’d accomplished it. She now had a protocol.

It was time for the next phase.

There was no option for trials in lower animals. The hymenoptera aboard who needed this treatment did not have much time left. If the therapy worked, the hymenoptera would live out a lifespan similar to their homeworld counterparts, barring accidents or other ailments—an additional sixty to seventy years.

“Do’Vela said you needed me?” Tesserae71 said as he entered the lab. He’d been on duty in Wahndis’s suite. She was undergoing a molting cycle, most likely triggered by the stress of her recent surgery.

Hain didn’t need to scan him to know he was in the earliest stages of organ failure. His green carapace, once lustrous, was now dull and faded. It was the first sign. The last of the nanites in the regen gel had finally expired. He had already lived out more than double the normal lifespan of a typical hymenoptera drone. Now she endeavored to give him more.

She pulled out a large tissue-culture cube from its incubator and began the procedure to ready the contents for injection. “How is Wahndis today?”

“She says she is nearly ready for ecdysis. We have cooled the room and increased the oxygen content to make her more comfortable.”

“Someone is standing by in case there are complications with the tracheoles?”

Tesserae71 shuddered, his limbs clattering against the exoskeleton of his torso and abdomen.

Just prior to the shedding phase, a hymenoptera tended to hyperventilate to load as much oxygen as possible. During ecdysis itself, they were unable to breathe for up to an hour, since even the lining of the tracheoles sloughed off through the process of molting. Hain had once heard an insectoid specialist say it was like pulling one’s lungs out through one’s mouth. Increased temperatures made the hymenoptera vulnerable to suffocation, so the precaution of cooling the room was warranted. Wahndis was still weak from the surgery. Hain had hoped to induce a molting cycle after the patient had fully recovered, but her body had decided otherwise and couldn’t be convinced to reverse its course. Hymenoptera physiology was stubborn.

Molts were not technically unusual, though most adult hymenoptera never went through them. This process tended to occur after periods of starvation or other extreme stressors. Most hymenoptera feared it. “Yes, three experienced hymenoptera are waiting with her.”

“Good. I need you here today. It is time to begin the treatment.”

Tesserae71 stood still, his mandibles working, a sign of nervous agitation.

“I’ll need a scan first to see which of your organ systems is most in need of rejuvenation.” She indicated a spot on the floor in front of her. She could attempt to target specific organs by injecting the culture in a particular location, but the nature of hemolymph meant that it was more likely to be spread throughout his body uniformly. She could not predict the outcome, but she could try to guide it.

He dutifully moved to stand before her. “Of course. Will there be any side effects?”

“Unlikely. Though it’s impossible to know for certain. I will monitor you closely.”

Hain moved the device over his body, then studied the results. It was worse than she’d hoped. The hymenoptera digestive and endocrine systems were not as highly developed as some species and so remained in a delicate balance. Both were on the verge of utter failure. She was surprised he was moving around so well. “You have not been eating,” she commented.

“I haven’t been hungry,” he clacked nervously.

She stared at the results, contemplating the best course of action. Darcy wanted this individual to live, but it now seemed unlikely he would survive the duration of time the treatment required to establish the new, improved cells inside his body.

If Hain hadn’t been diverted to care for Wahndis’s emergent situation, she might have developed the protocol in time. That could not be helped.

Regen gel was extremely expensive and difficult to obtain—even when offering unlimited sums on the black market. Those who were able to acquire it hoarded it, holding it in reserve for the direst emergencies when standard medical care was unavailable. It was a priceless commodity on the fringes of known space, where treatment was largely unavailable.

There’d been a pack in that tern at the time of Tesserae71’s deadly injury, against the possibility that Darcy should be damaged in some way and be unable to complete the hunt Raub had planned. Raub himself had procured the pack. Hain suspected he’d killed for it. He’d likely been enraged that it had been used for a hymenoptera drone instead. She was surprised he’d allowed the hymenoptera to live after that.

Hain had one partially used pack secreted away. She’d kept it for many cycles.

For herself.

Ginnan were hardy but required large amounts of natural light exposure. Even the best artificial lights could not provide the quantity and spectrum she required to keep her in good condition indefinitely. Confinement aboard a ship was not natural for her species.

She dosed herself with minute amounts of the gel every three to five standard years. Without it, she perished slowly. Degree by degree. Her recent excursion to the ship sales agency had been a boon that would keep her going for a long time. But outings like that were rare.

However.

Darcy wanted Tesserae71 alive.

Darcy Eberhardt was the key to Hain’s survival as well. If Darcy lost faith in her, turned her out, or did not prevail in opposing Raub, Hain would once again be at Raub’s mercy.

Hain had happened upon an offering of regen gel once before. Perhaps she would do so again.

And if she confessed her requirements to the Captain, Darcy would likely accommodate her needs. It would require a level of vulnerability Hain normally avoided. Perhaps it was necessary.

Hain opened a cabinet and stooped, reaching inside to trigger the hidden panel at the back. She pulled out the sterile culturing cube that held her stash of gel and inserted a syringe into the port she’d fashioned to keep the contents from contamination. She extracted the remainder of the gel.

It had to be done.

She instructed Tesserae71 to remain as still as possible and attached the micropore boring device to his abdomen, activated it, then injected the contents of the engineered cell culture and the regen gel without a word of explanation. She attached a tube of sterile organic sealant, and the unit dispersed it across the surface of his carapace to prevent infection. Once that hardened, she removed the device. The sealant left an obvious discoloration on his exoskeleton, but that couldn’t be helped. At least he would live to suffer the embarrassment caused by it.

“Do not wash for forty-eight hours to allow the sealant to fully cure. Avoid touching the area. Force yourself to consume food at least once per day, or you will find yourself in the same state as Wahndis,” she warned.

Tesserae71 twitched, a dismayed sound escaping his spiracles.

She led him to a cot she’d set up in a small alcove at the rear of the lab, gave him a nutrition bar, and hooked him up to several monitors. She went back to work, one eye on a tablet displaying his vitals for the rest of the day. Within hours, he fell into a coma. His vitals were strong and steady, however.

Her safety net was gone.

Her most precious patient was in a coma.

Raub was still a threat.

Her future seemed more uncertain than ever.

35

Darcy climbed into a tern with Parp. “Okay, you got me here. Where are we going?”

“I have another surprise up my sleeve,” he said, and wriggled a little in his seat.

“Look at you,” Darcy said wryly. On another day she might have laughed, but her increasing agitation at not hearing from Nembrotha and Selpis left her in a sour mood that nothing seemed to lift. “You’re like a little kid. Is this going to be as good as the last surprise?”

“It is to me,” he said. He did his system checks and got clearance. Then they were underway.

“Is it as big as last time?”

“No, but the two go together perfectly.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Come on, give me a hint.”

“No, no. You’ll see soon enough. Suffice to say I know a guy who knows a guy.” He raised his eyebrows and looked up. His head tipped back and forth. “Who knows a guy.”

She huffed. “Well, it must be good, because you convinced Do’Vela to keep it a secret from me too.”

“It was her idea.” He flashed a big, cheesy smile at her then turned back to the controls. “She’s brilliant—but you know that.”

Darcy looked out the window as they descended through the clouds. She had friends out here now. Who looked out for her—did nice things for her. Her life wasn’t all gloom and doom anymore. These people were more than just employees. They were like a family.

And soon there would be one more member of that family with them. The most important one. Finally. Her frown deepened. Selpis and Nembrotha had to get the information they needed. Soon. Before she cracked up.

It was hard enough not knowing how their mission was going, but she was also plagued with doubts about what would happen when they actually got to Adam. How hard would it be to get him free? What would he have gone through? How would he react to her? Would they be okay?

She’d been in this purgatory so long, and now that it was almost over, she was terrified about what was going to be on the other side of it.

Parp set the tern down. Darcy looked around at the jumbled surroundings. A piece of light plastic trash blew over the hood of the vehicle. She shot Parp a dubious look. “A junkyard? This is the surprise?”

“I know a guy, remember? Just let me do the talking.” He climbed out of the tern and gingerly stepped around a puddle of green ooze. “Careful what you step in,” he warned cheerfully.

She followed him, careful not to get the brand-new orange ontopo suit dirty as they walked down a winding lane bordered by mounds of all kinds of things toward a shack constructed from discarded ship parts of many shapes, sizes, and colors. As they got closer, she could see that the joins were sturdily welded together. It was better maintained than she’d first thought it would be. Weathered. It had clearly been in this spot for a long time.

“Hagh,” someone called out as they stepped in through a modified airlock. Darcy blinked, adjusting to the lower light. A tiny bald guy stood behind the low counter. She couldn’t see anything below his eyes. Piles of components were stacked against the walls, wires hanging out of them like spaghetti.

“I’ve been speaking with Virook,” Parp said. “Is he here?”

“Egh,” the man said, and rocked from side to side as he walked, bandy-legged, through a doorway to the back room. Now she could see that his upper body was more muscular than her own. He resembled a miniaturized professional wrestler.

Darcy looked around while she waited, though she had no idea what she was looking at. It was a mish-mosh of technology derived from many different species, all of it coated in a quarter inch of dust. Here and there she saw a console or control board that had markings that looked somewhat familiar. The walls were covered in logos and signage ripped from various ships and space stations.

Another man emerged, slighter than the first but roughly the same size. “Yech?” he said.

“You’re Virook?” Parp asked.

“Eagh,” came the reply.

“Good. Good. I’m Parp. I sent you a message about some consoles?”

Virook grunted and waved an arm, then turned and disappeared into the back room again. Parp jumped to follow him. Darcy was close on his heels, though she had doubts about the ontopo suit fitting between the piles of stuff. In the end, she edged sideways to get through.

Virook didn’t wait for them. He just assumed they’d keep up. He disappeared down a rusty metal stairwell. They went after him. The heaps of parts continued down there. These were sorted and more organized into stacks of similar materials. Virook passed through a doorway, and Darcy realized this was a vast underground bunker.

They went on and on. Virook came to a stop, stooped, and pried at some boards. He pulled up a hidden panel, then trundled down another set of rickety stairs. Darcy followed cautiously once Parp and Virook had cleared the steps. She was afraid the weight of the suit might be too much for them. They creaked ominously but held.

A couple of rooms away, Virook finally came to a stop. “Ach,” he muttered, and gestured toward the contents of the room.

“Oh, yes. This is it. This is it,” Parp said, moving around the room giddily, picking up one dusty component and setting it down, then grabbing another. He blew the dust off one large console and fingered the screen as large chunks of dust settled in his snow-white hair. He stood straight up again. “We’ll take the lot—and any sectilian nutritional base you have. It doesn’t go bad, so we can use it all.”

“Och,” Virook said, and held out a shiny, pristine clean credit device.

Parp slipped his own credit device out, signed into an account, and tapped his device to Virook’s. They both stared at their devices, poking at them and scrolling.

“This price is more than fair,” Parp said. “I agree.” He jabbed the device with a flourish.

Virook seemed satisfied and turned to go back up the stairs.

“Excellent!” Parp exclaimed, and turned, grabbing components and stacking them up on one arm. “Come now, don’t be shy. You can carry a lot in that getup.”

Darcy just looked at him. “But what is this stuff, Parp?”

He fumbled and grabbed a device as it slid down his leg. “These, my dear, are genuine sectilian components, salvaged from ships before the great nanite plague.” He leaned toward her and whispered, grappling with that same device again. “Highly illegal, of course, but so is everything else we do.”

“But what good does that do us?”

“Did I forget to mention? These are mostly underwater components, engineered for use by kuboderans. And we’ll have some food to feed them—they were rationing already.”

“Oh!” she said. This would instantly solve the problem with retrofitting the Pelagic. The time it would save was huge. It lifted her spirits immensely. When the call came from Nembrotha, they might not have to split the fleet. That increased the likelihood of success on the upcoming mission to extract Adam.

“Oh, yes.” He tilted his head to one side. “Or even, ‘Yech.’”

36

Weak morning sunlight filtered over the desert bluffs as Darcy alighted from a tern. The Pelagic was propped on scaffolding on the terrace outside the kuboderan enclave, with tubes of varying thicknesses running from inside the mountain through an open hatchway near the bottom of the geodesic sphere.

Before they brought the Pelagic down to the planet, Parp had them do as much work in the upper portion of the central chamber as possible in zero g so they wouldn’t have to fight against gravity. They installed the kuboderan control consoles they’d bought from the salvage yard and updated the massive water filtration system, since some of those parts had not aged well, cannibalizing some of the units from inside the kuboderan community at the urging of the kuboderans. They also transferred a few sectilian food-production units tailored to produce kuboderan food, also pulled from inside the mountain enclave.

Darcy heard the buzz and whine of power tools as she walked up to the new ship. She caught sight of Parp talking to one of his crew and came up alongside him. He had smudges of black grease on the visor of his suit.

“Are you filling it up with water already?” she asked.

“Just a little, to start. We’re checking the integrity of the seals. We can’t have the air-breathers on board drowning. It will take days to fill, of course, and that will be the real test. That much water will create a lot of pressure, especially under gravity.”

Darcy stepped over the tubes and walked inside. The decor on this level was on par with what she remembered from the dealership. Tarnished metal sculptural elements as well as faded and stained flooring. She fingered a finial made to resemble a six-sided sea creature that might have been something like a starfish, though it was more cone-shaped.

“We’ll get the air breather’s sections polished up once we’re certain the mechanicals are solid,” Parp said. “Unless you’re thinking of redecorating?”

She raised her eyebrows and turned to see him grinning. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I think a good cleaning is all we really need. I kind of like it how it is. It’s got a nostalgia to it, even though it’s not a nostalgia I’m familiar with.”

“She’s a majestic old goddess,” he said. “She served our people for well over one hundred years. I never dreamed I’d see her again. I’d love to serve aboard her.”

Darcy felt a kuboderan mind brush against hers. “You are Darcy Eberhardt?”

She turned to look for the source of the question. A kuboderan in a fully contained mechanical suit scuttled up behind her, four arms walking over the floor, four arms and two tentacles clutching enormous rolls of coiled tubing. She was glad that this kuboderan had been taught, in the intervening time since their first visit, to be gentler when speaking to her people. “Yes?”

“I am Caut.”

“Hello, Caut. What do you think of the ship?” Darcy asked.

A burst of pure happiness flooded Darcy’s mind. “This is more than we ever dreamed of. Thank you.” Caut scurried away on whatever task she’d been assigned.

A chorus of enthusiastic hellos pummeled Darcy’s brain. She peered up into the central globe and saw several kuboderans in similar suits undulating an arm at her in their version of a wave as they worked on different decks. She waved back.

“Well, they seem cheerful,” Darcy said.

“They like the ship. And they’re probably grateful that they won’t be starving to death after all. Though we’ll have to find another source for that nutritional base soon. I’ll keep working through my contact list.”

Parp went back to work supervising and assisting his crews. Darcy strode through the massive door, through the airlock, and took off the helmet of the ontopo suit. It smelled fishy and organic inside. The air was heavy with humidity, and there was even more water on the floor than before. Walls had been opened up to get at important tech inside so it could be transplanted to the ship.

A kuboderan in an open-topped tank on wheels with a bunch of stuff strapped to the top zipped by, then backed up and saluted her with a flash of crimson before zooming off again. As she walked through the compound, kuboderans stopped what they were doing to acknowledge her and pulse the red greeting. The air rang with the sounds of tools clattering and sloshing and slapping water.

She found Ei’Joh in a similar tank, her long limbs curling over the top and working at a sectilian console next to Goab. She stopped what she was doing and submerged as Darcy approached. She twirled in place to face Darcy. “Captain Darcy Eberhardt. I must say I, and many others, thought your surprise arrival would spell our doom. And now you have saved us. On behalf of all of us here, I want you to know we are grateful for your generosity. It is wonderful to see such good happening for my people.”

“I’m glad to help. Hopefully, we’ll find the perfect world for your people to colonize. Will all of you be joining us? If anyone chooses to stay behind, I’m a little worried about all the equipment being stripped from your home.”

“A few of the elders wish to remain here and wait for the Sectilius to return. There are many redundancies built into the system, and with far fewer individuals to support, all will be well.”

“That’s good to hear. Can I ask why they want to stay? It might be a long time before the Sectilius return. We will, of course, visit to check on them, bring any needed supplies, and make sure they’re doing all right.”

Ei’Joh’s limbs agitated the water. “They’re set in their ways. They want their old life back, to be the single central figure on a ship.”

“But not you?”

“I left convention behind long ago when I took a mate and produced young. At first, my mate and I were shunned, but over time, the negativity eroded. Many things changed in the years after the sectilians were gone. Our adaptations were met with resistance, but we could not have survived this long if we had not forced some modifications into our lives. The first to leave his enclosure, the first to cut her way through to another, the first to access the sectilian-only computer system… the firsts were difficult times. In those early years, everyone wanted the Sectilius to simply come back to us and give us purpose, but they did not come. We had to make our own way, find our own purposes.”

There was a tinge of sadness in Ei’Joh’s voice. Darcy got the distinct feeling that her mate was no longer alive. But she knew that kuboderans had an extremely long lifespan. Ei’Joh must have picked up on her confusion.

“Many among us suffered from debilitating depression, and they chose to leave us the only way possible.”

That hit Darcy hard. She worried about Do’Vela often, being in such a small tank, though Hain had told her the story about how pitiful her enclosure had been when Hain had found her. Her current conditions were far superior but nothing like being free. These people had each other, but they were such gregarious individuals, trained to want to serve and be among their sectilian caretakers. “It must have been very difficult,” she said.

“That time is in the past. A new chapter opens for us now. I’m amazed at how quickly your teams have progressed in preparing the Pelagic. After all these years of struggling to accomplish the smallest feats, this feels rather like a whirlwind.”

“My crew is passionate about helping others who’ve found themselves in bad situations. They’re enjoying the work. We’re also on a deadline. I’m expecting to hear from a contact soon that will send us on an important mission.”

“Yes, Do’Vela spoke of this. We’re aware of the urgency and are determined not to hold you back. I wonder, have you met any of my children yet?”

“I just spoke briefly with Caut. Is she one of your children?”

Ei’Joh’s mental voice was warm and light with amusement. “She is. A spitfire, that one is. They are little devils, all of them, but she is the worst. She instigates all the trouble around here. You’ve seen the mechanized suits? Those are her invention.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Darcy said. “How old is Caut?”

“Fifty-three standard years and still very much a child. They know nothing of the discipline we endured, and I’m not certain if that is a good or a bad thing.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. To be fifty-three and still referred to as a child seemed strange to her, but she kept her thoughts to herself on that matter and searched for something else to comment on. “I noticed she didn’t use a prefix for her name.”

“My children were born after our sectilian caretakers met dusk, and they have decided not to follow those customs. We had already shed so much of it. I allowed them to decide for themselves, knowing they would be forced to adopt them should the Sectilius return to begin their training. Do you wish them to use them?”

“No—no, it doesn’t matter to me. They can call themselves whatever they want.”

This seemed to please Ei’Joh. Her limbs curled gracefully around her.

A kuboderan in a mech suit scrambled by.

“There goes Caut now, up to no good, surely.”

Darcy turned to watch Caut, who stopped and pivoted in order to approach them. “Hello again. I’m going to get some of the bots I made. I think they’ll be just the thing to clean up the air-breathers’ areas if I can just get them programmed to do what I want.”

“Bots?” Darcy asked.

“Because we encountered so much difficulty in our modifications of the sectilian technology, Caut was in the process of building a series of robots that she hoped would make the work easier.”

“Except my generation doesn’t have the cybernetic implants needed to control them remotely. I had to rely on the old ones to do the work, and they’re so slow.”

“Meticulous. Meticulous is the word you’re looking for,” Ei’Joh said.

“No, I used the word I meant,” Caut replied.

Darcy sensed Ei’Joh grinding her beak and bit her lip. Caut did sound a bit like a teenager.

Caut started to turn away, then changed her mind. “Oh, Darcy, I’ve been talking to Vela and she told me about the human you know—Jane? Vela said that Jane lets her kuboderans choose their own captain. Is this true?”

“Caut! Treat the captain with respect—” Ei’Joh commanded.

“Darcy doesn’t care about all that stuff, Joh!”

Darcy looked from one to the other. They both seemed perturbed, and Darcy had the feeling Ei’Joh was about to launch into a parental lecture. “Uh. Actually, if you’re talking about all the names and titles, I’d rather that you all just call me Darcy.”

Ei’Joh slowly turned an eye to Darcy. “Is that so?”

Darcy shrugged. “Yeah. You don’t need to say all that every time you talk to me.”

“Well, Do’Vela surely should be called by her proper—”

Caut interrupted again. “She told me I could call her Vela!”

“Well…” Ei’Joh seemed to consider this.

Darcy said, “Yes, it’s true Jane allowed a kuboderan named Ei’Pio to choose her own captain and made that same promise to several other kuboderans that decided to join her. But Jane disappeared several standard years ago. I don’t know where she is now, or what she’s doing. I’m sorry.”

Caut went on. “But my point is, humans are different from the Sectilius. They are the special race the Cunabula promised, just like you taught us. Our lives don’t have to be bounded by all those silly rules anymore. There is so much we don’t know about, shut up in here. Like the nanites. Vela says their code can be changed, can be made less restrictive. They can even be turned off. Vela doesn’t even have a yoke.”

“She doesn’t?”

Darcy shook her head. “No, Do’Vela doesn’t have a yoke. And Hain modified her nanites long before I came aboard the Vermachten. They still keep her healthy and extend her life, but they don’t control her thoughts or her mood. We can do the same for you if you wish. It’s entirely up to you.”

Ei’Joh said, “It seems we have much to learn from you and your crew, Captain Darcy Eberhardt.”

Darcy smiled. “Just call me Darcy.”

Caut made a mental sound that sounded something like a chuckle and scampered off, the metal legs of her suit clattering against the flooring.

“You see?” Ei’Joh said. “I have done my best to parent this brood, but it’s been a blind endeavor with no precedent to rely upon. I fear I have failed to instill a proper level of deference in any of them.”

“Maybe by sectilian standards. By human standards, Caut seems just fine to me.”

“I had worried about clashes of culture between your people and mine, but perhaps I am the one who needs to change,” Ei’Joh said quietly.

37

“Don’t you dare go easy on me,” Darcy warned Falrau as they circled each other, still assessing. They’d been sparring for ten minutes, and Darcy was tired of playing nice. She wanted to see what Falrau could really do.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Falrau countered. “I expect the same of you.” And there was that feral smile Darcy had learned to hate—when it had flashed across Raub’s lips.

She shook her head, violently rejecting the thought. That was some post-traumatic bull and she didn’t want to play.

Yunto sat nearby, calmly arranged with the soles of his feet touching, elbows on splayed knees, palms up, watching. This had been his idea. He said Darcy needed a more challenging sparring opponent, that she had exceeded his ability to teach her something new. Falrau was the perfect choice, as she was likely trained by the same masters as Raub. Since Raub was a threat looming on the horizon—after they got Adam back—she couldn’t deny the sense of the suggestion.

But she didn’t like it.

The truth was, she avoided interactions with Falrau. She knew it. She was sure Falrau knew it. It seemed like Falrau was trying to prove herself to be an ally, but Darcy couldn’t bring herself to trust.

Raub had deceived her too well. While it was true that she hadn’t had any other choices at the time, it still stung that he’d set her up so cleanly. She’d always known he wasn’t a good guy, but she never could have guessed the depths of his machinations.

She’d been naive then.

But she trusted Yunto to intervene if necessary. As well as the two guards hovering near the door.

Darcy moved, beginning with a bit of choreography she’d been practicing with Yunto—a complicated feint followed up by a powerful spinning back leg kick against Falrau’s side. Falrau grunted and lunged forward with an elbow strike to Darcy’s jaw, pushing her off balance. Darcy backed up a few steps to let her head clear.

She shouldn’t have left herself open to that. She needed to practice that move a lot more. She was still too slow.

Falrau pursued, thrusting upwards with both fists like a piston, striking under the chin. Her jaw clattered painfully. She saw stars. Instinctively, she grabbed one of Falrau’s arms, pulling out, twisting and dropping her center of gravity forward to the floor, pushing Falrau’s body ahead of her. She jabbed her knee into Falrau’s chest and punched her twice in the face before Falrau was able to launch her lower body up using her legs to create momentum, and tumble away in a roll, slipping out of Darcy’s hold.

Darcy leapt up and came at Falrau sideways, delivering an angular kick with her shin with a nice full swing to pack plenty of power into the impact. Falrau was forced to take a step to keep her balance. Darcy took advantage of that and sprang up, her knee driving into Falrau’s chest like the point of a spear. Falrau staggered back and then hurled herself forward. Darcy blocked a kick, but Falrau hit her a split second later with a blow to the neck.

For a second, Darcy couldn’t breathe. She reeled. Then she was on the mat, pinned between Falrau’s legs in a scissor hold. Darcy ignored the pain, found her breath, and grappled for control. They writhed through several different submission holds, each of them expertly maneuvering out of one and into another. Darcy got her right arm around Falrau’s neck and braced with the left, squeezing. Falrau struggled, but Darcy didn’t let up.

“Tap out,” Darcy growled.

“Never.”

She didn’t know how Falrau could think, much less speak. She did know that if Falrau were human, Darcy would have been compressing her carotid artery, shutting off blood flow to the brain.

Except she wasn’t human.

Falrau managed to twist around, buck her off, and get to her feet.

And they were back where they started.

This went on and on until they were both slippery with blood and sweat.

Darcy did note one important fact. Falrau never started chuffing air and turning purple. She stayed controlled and emotionless as they fought. Occasionally, Raub had done that—turned purple with rage and became something even more monstrous than usual. He’d called it the vasdasz—and said it had something to do with a secondary circulatory system. Darcy was glad that Falrau refrained from this practice.

They continued doggedly until they were swaying and staggering, neither of them willing to tap out or call for an end to it. Then Yunto appeared between them, calmly holding up his meaty hands. “Enough.”

Darcy walked over to the bar against the wall, where Yunto kept water pouches. She sniffed, tasting blood in her mouth. Falrau came to stand beside her, grabbing a pouch for herself. Luckily, Falrau kept her claw-like nails filed to down to blunt ends, or Darcy would have been ripped to shreds. As it was, she was covered in bruises and other minor injuries. One of her teeth felt loose and she might have a cracked rib. It hurt when she inhaled.

Grimly, she realized this little episode was going to give her a chance to practice her self-healing ability. Yay.

“You’re well trained,” Falrau said, still breathing heavily. Her nose was swollen and tracks of blue led down to her lips. Her hair stuck straight up in places and was matted down with sweat and blood in others.

Darcy eyed her for a moment, then nodded once. Her jaw, neck, and shoulders were throbbing already.

“There is something important I believe we should discuss,” Falrau pursed her lips and chugged some water. “Something I noticed today for the first time or I would have mentioned it sooner.”

Darcy wiped her mouth with a shrug of her shoulder and grabbed a towel to cover the physical wince. She pressed the towel to her face, neck, and chest gingerly. It came away with a smear of red, blue, and purple—their mixed blood. She’d seen that before. She ignored the memory that evoked. No need to go there. She refocused on Falrau. “What’s that?” she replied.

“Nearly every time you and I have spoken in person, you have been dressed in a space suit or surrounded by people of many species in a crowded room.” Falrau grabbed a towel and swabbed herself down, quick and rough.

Darcy frowned. She had no idea where this is going. But Falrau seemed very serious about it.

Falrau paused, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know how to put this tactfully, so I will say it simply. You have an odor. We all do. Both a personal scent and something more species-related. I don’t think this is something every species could detect, but as a Lovek, I can.”

Darcy blinked slowly, staring at her. She was well aware of the extensive advantages Lovekaans possessed regarding their senses.

“Naturally, a person’s odor gets stronger when they’re under stress, exercising, sweating and so on. My point is this: today I fully experienced your scent for the first time. And that elicited a memory. I have smelled someone like you before. Only once.”

Now she had Darcy’s attention.

Falrau had to know by now what Darcy was doing out here. No one had been told not to tell her. She was sure people on the ship talked to her.

“I believe I have smelled the presence of another human. I did not see this person. He or she was blocked from my view, though I must say, based on instinct, or some other sense that I can’t explain, I believe it was a male.”

“Where?” Darcy demanded.

Falrau looked down, as though ashamed. Her arms hung limply at her sides, clutching the towel. “On my brother’s ship.”

38

Darcy went cold. All the blood drained from her head.

She stared at Falrau, not wanting to comprehend the implications of this information bomb.

But she did.

Raub had a human, probably male.

Which meant that Raub had Adam.

He would have no interest in any other human besides Darcy herself. He would want to use Adam in some way as bait to trap her.

Raub… had Adam.

“You didn’t see him? You’re sure?”

“I saw nothing. I never saw another person on that ship aside from Raub and his servant. They wouldn’t permit me into the room. It was an infirmary. I offered to help if someone was sick or injured, but they refused me, blocked my way and my view, and sent me back to my quarters. When I inquired later, he told me it was none of my business.”

Fear pooled in Darcy’s belly. Falrau still looked uncertain. There was more. She knew it. She pressed forward into Falrau’s personal space, ready to fight again, wanting to rain blows on this woman, if only due to her association with that disgusting animal of a man. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Falrau’s eyes shifted away, but she didn’t retreat. “What brought me there. To that door. I was sewing in my quarters. I heard screaming and followed the sound. I wanted to help,” she repeated forlornly.

“Screaming?” Darcy asked, her mind racing. “Like people yelling at each other, or—”

“Like someone in pain,” Falrau said quickly. Then she hesitated. “In… agony.”

Darcy’s hand covered her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Oh, my God.” She shook her head. Tears pricked at her eyes.

Yunto appeared and placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. His soft brown eyes watched her carefully. “What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

Darcy couldn’t talk. Her breath seared her bruised throat through silent sobs.

“I believe we’ve just discovered through our conversation that my brother may have possession of her mate,” Falrau said woodenly.

Darcy rounded on her. “Was this his plan all along? To get you into my good graces so you could drop this bomb on me and lure me into his trap?”

Falrau’s eyes widened. “No. I’ve told you the truth from the start. He sent me to that meeting to assassinate you. I chose not to. I allowed you to take me away. That was my choice. According to him, you would not have hesitated to murder me. From my point of view, I was risking my life.”

Darcy’s hands tensed into fists. Her voice dripped with venom. “He probably knew that’s exactly what you’d do. I have no doubt he has a contingency for every possibly outcome.”

“That may well be.” Falrau looked mournful. “I don’t know him like a sibling should. I don’t believe I ever did. He has always deceived us.”

Darcy looked up at the ceiling, trying to get herself under control with little success. “He’s torturing him.” Her voice broke.

Falrau’s voice was barely audible. “I don’t know.”

“How could you just walk away, knowing someone was being tortured? What kind of person could do that?”

“I only knew what he told me. I didn’t yet understand… I assumed the best of him—I assumed someone had been injured and was receiving medical care. It wasn’t until later that I began to realize… I suppose that’s not a good excuse. People have been excusing his behavior since birth. None of us knew what he was truly capable of.”

Darcy snarled, “He’s a monster. He needs to be put down.”

“Yes,” Falrau replied. She looked sincere. Her eyes looked sad.

Darcy glared at her. “I look at you and all I can think is She must be playing me. How do I even know if you’re for real? How can you be sane if you grew up with someone like that?”

“Given the circumstances, I believe that is a normal response,” Falrau said. “Perhaps I should leave and give you the time you need to absorb this information. I will be ready to answer any questions you may have at any time.”

Darcy held both hands to her face and turned away. She couldn’t stop the tears and she didn’t want anyone to see them. She heard Yunto speaking softly to Falrau and ushering her from the room.

Yunto came back to her and they were alone in the training room. He took her by the elbow and guided her to a stack of mats in the corner. She sat down on the edge. He settled next to her and wordlessly offered her a clean towel. She took it and covered her face.

“You may release your grief without fear. I do not see it as a weakness but a strength,” he said suddenly.

She gave him an incredulous look.

“Feeling emotion of any kind is a gift. It means we’re alive, that we care, that we are a force for good.”

She sniffed. Her nose was completely blocked between the crying and the sparring. “On Earth, it’s sorta discouraged.”

“I suspected as much, given that you’re hiding your face from me.”

She lowered the towel.

“You will find your way through this,” he said.

Her lip trembled. “But what will I find? He has Adam.”

“He may. He may not.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I do believe her, but she doesn’t know anything more than the fact that she thinks she may have smelled a human on Raub’s ship. Her experience is minimal. Her exposure to other species, negligible. She may have smelled a nieblic. Or a female human that Raub has taken as a lover. What you need are facts. You must not act in haste.”

“But if he has him, he’s hurting him.”

He looked at her squarely. “Rushing will lead to mistakes you can’t afford—that Adam, if Raub does have him, will need you to prevent. A few more days or weeks is nothing. Consider the whole. We are but sparks, Darcy, in an endless whirl of time.”

She looked down at the towel. She tried to absorb what he was saying but everything in her was shrieking that she had to go now. She had to find a way to save him now.

“Adam needs you to have a plan,” he said. He rose.

“How can you plan against evil like that? It’s impossible.”

“You can. You will. Expend your grief and let it go. Fully. Clear your mind. Do not allow this to blind you.”

She let out a long shaky breath. The towel was in a tight knot between her fingers.

“Your friend Parp is coming to escort you back to your quarters. I’m sorry that Selpis and Nembrotha are away and that Hain and Tesserae71 are unavailable just now. Rely on your friends. On me. We will help you through this.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I can’t. You’ll just get hurt too. No one is getting out of this unscathed. He’ll make sure of it.”

“Those who reside within the fleet are aware of the risks. The cause is just. We know it’s worth it, even if it costs lives.”

She fluttered her hands helplessly. How could she possibly put anyone in Raub’s path, knowing what she knew? How was anything ever going to be okay again?

Parp came in looking nervous and out of place. “I heard you got some bad news. Wanna grab something to eat? I got one of the sectilian nutritional synthesizers up and running that we picked up at the salvage place.”

Darcy looked down at the bloody towel. She sent Parp a side-eye. “Who could say no to synthetic nutrition?”

“Hey—it’s pretty good. We could call it the…” He thought for a moment. “…molecular chef, if you prefer?”

Yunto put his arm on her elbow. “Take a break, but don’t set this aside. Face the truth, Darcy. And remember this: you know Raub better than anyone in the galaxy, even his own sister.”

39

Darcy fidgeted. She had Nembrotha and Selpis on a video call, but the distance between them meant that there were long delays in the communication. Now the pleasantries were out of the way, she waited, filled with dread, to hear what they’d found.

“We have obtained the information,” Selpis said, finally. “Adam Benally was ferried to a belastoise mining ship named the Juisuit.”

Darcy’s heart sank like a stone. Falrau had told her Raub was using a belastoise mining ship named the Juisuit. He must have stolen it from Ulream and made it his base of operations.

It was confirmation of what she’d known in her heart was true. She fingered the button to reply, robotically. “I need you back here as soon as possible,” she said, and toggled the button off again.

After an age, Nembrotha replied, “I’ve signed a contract.” He said more, but Darcy didn’t even listen to it. She knew he’d feel obliged to finish the contract. It was his name and reputation on the line, and she hated that she was asking him to make a sacrifice. Ultimately, it was his choice, but she hoped he’d come home.

She sounded wooden and tired to her own ears. “It’s Raub. He has Adam. I need you here.” It was the first time she’d said the words aloud outside of the training room. The bridge was silent. She felt every eye on her. Word would spread through the fleet like wildfire. She didn’t doubt she’d lose some people now, and she couldn’t say she blamed them. They all knew that Hain had only been a figurehead, that Raub had been the instrument behind all of the atrocities that had happened aboard the Vermachten over all those years.

The response, when it came, was Selpis. She said, “Say no more. We’ll hire a jump ship to open a window without delay. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Darcy stood and headed for the door. The discomfort in the room was palpable.

Parp fell in step with her. “I can have the Pelagic ready in a day or two. We’re really just waiting on the pumps to complete the water processing and fill. Everything else is in order.”

She nodded absently, though she couldn’t imagine putting the kuboderans in danger. Finding a place to park most of the fleet to keep them safe was going to be just another item on her to-do list. “That’s good.”

He chuckled. “I think we drained an entire underground lake.”

She didn’t comment. All she could think about was that she needed a plan… a good one. Something clever and foolproof.

And she had nothing.

The only thing she could come up with was using Falrau as bait, which wasn’t even her own idea. Nembrotha had mentioned it early on. The idea was wrong on so many levels, not the least of which was that she still couldn’t be sure she could trust the woman. Falrau admitted her brother was a monster, and had to be stopped, but who would turn against their own sibling? If Falrau changed her tune at the eleventh hour, Darcy would have to fight two lovekaans instead of one.

Even if they did offer Raub an exchange of prisoners, there was no guarantee he’d take it. Since that first message to Hain, Raub had never sent another. He had to know they had Falrau now. Did he even care? Why hadn’t he come after her? Was Falrau just a calculated sacrifice? What game was he playing?

If that was the case, nothing held value for him… except for her.

She had all these support ships, but how could they be used effectively without anyone getting hurt? As much as she’d like to blow Raub out of the sky without having to look at his face or hear his voice, she couldn’t do that with Adam on board. And it seemed unlikely they’d be able to trick him into letting Adam off the ship.

She was not afraid to face Raub. Nor was she reluctant to kill him anymore. She’d come to terms with that when she’d thought she had killed him.

He’d gone too far in every way possible.

But as long as he had Adam, she knew he’d use him against her to keep her position weak. He fought dirty. Unpredictably. He wouldn’t hesitate to use Adam as a contingency plan.

She would have to be even more clever than he was. But she didn’t know where to begin. She wanted to help people, not scheme ways to trap and murder someone.

Parp fidgeted, bringing her back to the present. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised. He ruffled his spiky hair. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”

She stopped moving. She folded her arms in a self-hug. He took a couple more steps, then turned to face her, his brow wrinkled.

“I don’t know how to approach this, Parp. I don’t have a clue.”

He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and looked like he was about to say something but stopped himself.

She looked around the empty corridor. “He’s not going to fall for tricks, even if I could think of a good one.”

“Maybe a direct approach is the best way to… I don’t know… go about it.”

She sighed and looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to Falrau?”

“No.”

“That seems like a good place to start.”

She shook her head. “Maybe.”

“I’ll go with you. She might have some insight.”

Darcy exhaled heavily through her nose. “Fine. It can’t hurt, I guess.”

40

Raub flexed his hand and stretched it out to the table before him, his eyes closed. He ran his fingers over and through the substances the doctor had laid out. He sensed a smashed bleyroot fruit, a soft alloy metal comprised of aluminum and tin, and a rag soaked with ascorbic acid dissolved in water—all three odorless, but with distinct flavors.

He opened his eyes to see the materials for himself. Each was labeled plainly. He’d sensed them correctly.

“Yes,” he said. “This new synthetic skin is much better than the last. Nearly perfect.”

The doctor looked smug. “It is absolutely the newest technology available. It’s quite an upgrade. And the closest thing possible to your native senses. I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am indeed.”

“This project has been quite a challenge. Using all non-ferrous components for every part of your reconstruction without sacrificing strength and durability required a great deal of innovation. But we met that challenge and then some. The results are spectacular and should be quite profitable for us in future for a variety of reasons. By the by, you never did explain why you needed them to be made that way.”

Raub stared at him without comment, watching the man’s discomfiture grow. He did not feel the need to divulge his rationale—that he would soon face an opponent who was capable of manipulating the electromagnetic spectrum in general, and ferrous objects in particular. That would lead to too many questions. He couldn’t have anyone else searching the galaxy for drudii.

The doctor sobered. “Shall we remove the bandages, then?”

“By all means. I’m eager to view your artistry.”

The doctor jumped to his feet and came around the table. He gingerly peeled back the dressings that had kept Raub’s face encased for days, then scanned the surgical sites with three different devices. His fingers touched Raub’s cheek gingerly as he turned his head this way and that, observing from all angles. Raub tolerated this as a medical necessity.

“No residual scarring. Good capillary refill. Adequate symmetry. The reconstruction is complete.”

“Show me.”

The doctor stepped back and slowly lifted a hand mirror. He stank of anxiety. “There is still some discoloration, of course. That will fade in time, you understand. Quite quickly, in your case.”

Raub studied his reflection. The burn scars that had deformed his face and ear were gone. The skin was smooth and without blemish. Perhaps a bit too smooth. There was some bluish-black mottling under the surface, where blood had collected during the healing process. Some residual swelling. A functional synthetic ear, grafted in place, was a perfect mirror to his natural ear. He was, for all intents and purposes, whole. “Adequate.”

“Another procedure could result in an additional degree or two of refinement, if you wish. I’d recommend waiting to see how this looks once fully healed first, however.”

“That will be unnecessary.”

The doctor visibly relaxed. He settled his hip on the corner of the table. “And how is your subject getting along? I trust you’re happy with his results as well?”

“I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“I’m particularly proud of the change in hair texture and color. That was a particularly difficult bit of genetic alchemy, but the results speak for themselves. His hair is very like your own now.”

Raub curled his lip, the muscles under his skin taut and new. A good, healing pain. “It is indeed.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “And the psychological adaptations you’ve introduced? Did my suggestions bear fruit?”

“Better than I’d hoped. I was able to revise his history quite easily. Every indication points to a total transformation. He is as close to lovekaan in thought and physicality as is possible.”

The doctor hopped up and cast around, as though looking for something to busy himself with. He grabbed up his instruments and dropped them carelessly in his bag. “Payment has already been handled by Nokk, so if there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”

Raub nodded languidly. The doctor scurried away.

Raub rose and stretched, feeling the power in his limbs. There was not a single twinge or gap in sensation to indicate that he’d ever been anything but the perfect being he’d been before.

And the boy had surpassed his aspirations. A generous application of pain, the judicious use of mind-altering drugs, uncovering truths and twisting them to suit his purpose, a sympathetic touch—all of these had done their work. Gaining Adam’s trust had been easy. Raub had learned much from Darcy about how the human mind worked.

Adam was handling the accelerated training techniques well. He was no stranger to hard work and adapted to this phase even more quickly than the previous phases. Raub had learned from his mistakes with Darcy. He knew now that humans loved stories. And if the story was right, it was easy to lead them where Raub needed them to go.

Adam had been the perfect test subject to trial the implants and upgrades Raub needed before taking any risks with his own body. Gaining an ally in that process was a significant bonus. The fact that Adam could very nearly pass on Loveka, aside from the lack of a blue undertone in the skin, was interesting but not truly important.

The effect Adam’s transformation would have on Darcy now—that was everything.

It was all falling into place.

Two lovekaan would stand together and confront the girl. Perhaps three if he could free Falrau from the bitch’s grasp before the final fight. Using Falrau had been a calculated risk that had not produced the desired result. But he hadn’t lost anything.

Regardless, just one would walk away as Kappyr.

Yes, he was ready.

All that was left was to provoke her.

41

Darcy sat in a straight-backed chair in Falrau’s immaculate quarters. Parp hung back, not saying much. Darcy explained that they now had proof that Raub had Adam.

“Let me talk to him,” Falrau stated.

“I don’t see how that could possibly achieve anything,” Darcy replied.

“I’m the head of the family. I enforce the rules of the clan,” she said.

“I thought he was,” Darcy asked, confused.

“In name only. When he left Loveka, all the responsibility fell to me. I will command him to hand over Adam Benally.”

Darcy licked her lips. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to take orders.”

Falrau hesitated for a split second. “I’ve never given him a direct command before. He is trained, as we all are, to respect the authority of the head of house.”

Darcy was dubious. “You’ll give away our hand. He doesn’t know what your status is here. Once he realizes you’re not our hostage, then an exchange of you for Adam will be off the table.”

Falrau raised her chin. “Not if he wants to punish me for my defection.”

Darcy stood and walked around the chair, ending up behind it, bracing herself against it. “Okay. Wow. That puts a whole different spin on it. Let’s not go there. That’s not what I want.”

“Nor I,” Falrau said. “But it’s a different point of leverage. Possibly more powerful than a simple hostage exchange.”

“I don’t think he wants anything but me,” Darcy said.

“Given what little I know, I believe you’re right.”

“So, why bother?”

“If there’s even a small chance we can get your mate out of his reach before a confrontation, I believe it’s worth the attempt.”

Parp sniffed. “If there’s nothing to lose and something to gain, isn’t it worth trying?”

Darcy ignored the fact that they were both staring at her, and thought about it long and hard. This could be an opportunity to watch Falrau, to monitor her again with Do’Vela, and to see where her loyalties were going to fall.

She didn’t think for a minute that it would work. Raub had found Adam and secreted him away for the sole purpose of luring Darcy back in for another chance at killing her. He wasn’t going to just hand Adam over, no matter what or who she offered him.

The call might rile Raub up, make him reckless. That could be good or bad. She feared he might take that out on Adam. She was certain he was already putting him through hell.

She felt sure that a call would give Raub a sense of immediacy to engage with her, which was what she wanted. She was surprised he’d waited so long, but that might have something to do with the injuries Falrau had mentioned.

Right now, she didn’t think it was possible for him to track her. But a call would change that. And he might make mistakes if he rushed to meet them. He’d made plenty of mistakes when he put Darcy on the tern to Ulream after the Vermachten was attacked. Falrau said he was still badly injured when she’d left the Juisuit. Maybe she could catch him off guard before he was ready. Forcing him to move forward could be a good thing.

Was it worth the risk to do that?

For better or for worse, she couldn’t take this agony anymore. She’d been searching for Adam fruitlessly for years. All along, Raub had him under lock and key. She didn’t doubt that he’d found him first and had put him in that place at Talus 3. The sooner this was over, the better.

“Do you want to talk it over with Hain? Or maybe Yunto?” Parp asked.

“No,” Darcy said, fully knowing she was making an impulsive decision. It was time to end this. No amount of time was going to improve her odds. “You track down the Juisuit. Start with the coordinates Falrau gave us. I have a feeling it won’t be too hard, since this is clearly what he wants. Once you’ve found him, set up the route for the call. Then we’ll do it. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Of the occupants of the bridge, only Parp had never seen Raub’s face before. Falrau stood proud and stoic as Parp set up the connection, his fingers moving nervously over the comm console.

Selpis and Nembrotha had arrived and insisted on being present, though they stayed well to one side, out of the camera’s viewing angle, alongside Hain and Darcy. Do’Vela watched them all keenly, lending them moral support. Darcy was glad of their presence.

She wished Tesserae71 could be there too, but he’d fallen into a coma after his initial stem cell treatment and was being closely monitored in the infirmary. Hain seemed sure it was nothing to worry about and reminded her that she’d seen him do this before when he’d been injured, and Wahndis as well, after her surgery. Based on that small amount of data, they had to assume it was a natural thing for hymenoptera to do when healing.

Darcy considered asking Yunto to be there too. However, he’d made it clear that he was happy to train the crew and act as Darcy’s confidant, but he was a pacifist and wouldn’t get involved in any of their conflicts. So, she didn’t.

Darcy hadn’t been able to sleep or eat since she’d made the decision. She restlessly moved from activity to activity, barely consciously aware of what she was doing, biding her time while Parp set things up, alternately breaking out in sweats and then freezing her butt off. She felt sick with anxiety. She refused to let that show and stood with her friends, nodding to Parp to connect to the Juisuit.

After a few moments, the blank screen flared to life. A shaggy man stared back at Falrau. He didn’t identify himself or his ship, as was standard.

“I will speak with my brother,” Falrau intoned imperiously.

The man grunted and disappeared from the screen. It went blue. They were on hold.

Blood pounded in Darcy’s ears. A sour taste burned the back of her throat. Seconds ticked by.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nembrotha muttered. “Had I been consulted—”

The small screen went live again. Raub came into view. The mutilations Falrau had described to Darcy were not visible as far as Darcy could see. He looked exactly as she remembered.

“Lady Falrau, my wayward sister. To what do I owe this honor? Have you finally deigned to complete the mission I assigned to you?”

Falrau did not so much as blink. “You will cede to me the man named Adam Benally. This is a direct order from your acting head of house. I expect obedience.”

“You? Head of house? I think you’ve forgotten your place.”

“I am the heir to the house of Rau. You are but a distant memory to the family.”

“More than a memory, I think. How is poverty suiting our dear family? Or do you forget who holds the purse strings that the family so desperately grasps at?”

“Poverty is nothing compared to honor. The family thus far is unblemished by your tainted ways, and under my care, it will remain thus. You will give me Adam Benally.”

Falrau was already losing ground. Darcy wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt. She’d wanted so badly for this to be easy.

Raub huffed. “Unblemished? You’re a traitor to your own species.” He moved in closer to the camera. “Do you think I don’t know you’ve been colluding all this time with a ship full of multi-species pirates, harboring an illegal drudii? What do you think the courts will say in response to these eminently provable accusations?”

Falrau’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare set foot on Loveka. You are dead to us. A fraud. They will know instantly what you’ve done to your body—the mechanical modifications and cosmetic improvements—and they will end your existence on the spot. You couldn’t fool me and you will not fool them.”

Raub’s gaze drifted as though he’d lost interest. “Unlikely. You saw but the earliest stages of my regeneration. Prototypes. There have been refinements, dear sister. Undetectable by you or anyone else. I have healed, as anyone would after a trauma. I am whole. Fully Lovek.”

He turned back to the screen, a malevolent sneer on his face. “You will be labeled insane, a spiteful bitch, scrabbling for what little power and control you can, as the golden boy returns to the embrace of the family—and how you will howl in the depths of the dank prison cell, crying out for justice with nothing but the stone and the scurrying tiurim to hear you, nibbling at your toes while you sleep. They will judge you a traitor. Your head will roll into the midden. And I will be Kappyr.”

Falrau’s face drained of color, but she did not falter. “Your imagination deceives you. You are deranged. Let these delusions go and surrender Adam Benally.”

Darcy had had enough. Falrau was making herself his next target, and that was not what Darcy wanted. She surged forward into view of the camera and pushed Falrau roughly out of the way. “Enough. Put her back in her cell. I should have known she wouldn’t be a good actress.”

Falrau started to protest, but Parp grabbed her, shaking his head violently to silence her.

Darcy gazed at the screen, sure contempt oozed from her expression.

“Now it gets interesting,” Raub commented, his features lighting up with renewed attentiveness. “I was just telling Nokk that I’ve been meaning to reconnect with you. How I’ve missed your delightful presence.”

“You know what I want,” Darcy said.

“I gather, but tell me again. I’d like to hear it from your lips.”

Darcy looked down and dragged her lower lip through her teeth. She hated this. She hated him so much she was having trouble keeping her light banked in her chest and was radiating a dry, scorching heat. She looked back up at the monster on the screen. “I want Adam.”

“Then come and get him. No one is stopping you. You know where I am. I’ll welcome you with open arms.”

His false geniality made her hands curl into fists. She snarled, “You know I will.”

Raub smiled. “Excellent. You should know I’ve recruited a partner. He’s also lovek. Come here, dear friend, and show your face to Darcy.”

Darcy heard the sounds of slow, heavy footfalls.

“I think you may know him,” Raub said, his eyebrows raised as though this were a lighthearted, offhand comment.

A man appeared on the screen with the same kind of wild tawny mane as Raub and Falrau.

Dead eyes stared back at her. “Hello, Darcy,” said a deep voice, devoid of feeling.

She knew that face. She knew that voice.

Darcy recoiled.

It was Adam.

The screen went blank.

42

Darcy stared at the blank blue screen.

The bridge was still. She felt their eyes on her.

She didn’t know what to think. Or what to feel.

What had he done to him?

He’d changed him somehow. Even his hair.

How?

She wanted to throw up.

Everything was just… shattered.

Nembrotha broke the silence, spluttering with outrage, “Did he call him ‘dear friend’?”

Darcy’s fingers slapped over her lips to keep the scream inside. She took a step back, looked up, and caught Parp’s eye. His expression was all distress and dismay and pity.

She was burning. Her skin glowed blue and the hair on her arms stood on end from the static that was building up. The hair on her head felt like it was doing the same.

Selpis came up behind her, not touching, just near. Darcy looked over her shoulder briefly. Selpis looked like she would like to say something but didn’t know what that was.

Hain was right behind her. “I think you need to calm down.”

Selpis pushed Hain back gently. “No, don’t say that.”

At the same time, Darcy grated out, “Calm down? How? After what I just saw?”

Parp whispered, “Darcy, you’re scaring us.”

Darcy barked at him, “You should be scared.”

“Oh, stop it, now. You look like you’re about to blow us all to oblivion,” Nembrotha said.

Selpis held up her hands and raised her voice. “Everyone be quiet!” She unceremoniously dumped Nembrotha on Hain and maneuvered herself in front of Darcy. “Your feelings are normal. Please, Darcy, breathe with me.” She inhaled audibly, her shoulders rising, then parted her wide mouth and exhaled.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to chop him into tiny pieces so he can never hurt anyone again. That’s what I should have done on Ulream.”

“You are angry,” Selpis said. “That is okay. Let us breathe—”

“I’m beyond angry.”

“We can see that,” Nembrotha muttered.

Selpis shot daggers at him with her expression. “Please. All of you. Leave us.”

The bridge crew left. Selpis stayed where she was. Hain lingered near the door, having passed Nembrotha off to someone else, with Falrau and Parp right beside her.

Do’Vela’s presence in her mind grew stronger, radiating calm and security. Darcy fought it for a moment but then gave in. She sagged a little. Her light started to fade. Her skin cooled a little.

“That’s better. Keep breathing,” Selpis said.

Despair snuck past the pain and anger as well as Do’Vela’s attempts at tamping down her emotional state. “What did he do to him?”

“I don’t know,” Selpis said. “But we’ll get him back and we’ll help him.”

“This is my fault,” Darcy replied. “I’ll get him back.”

She meant it. She was done with this. It was time for all of this to end.

Selpis looked up at her, eyes wide and worried. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Darcy pushed her lower lip up into a deep frown and shook her head. Her throat ached. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been such a coward. I knew what he was on Ulream. I should have ended it there. If I hadn’t been so afraid of taking a life… No. I’ll go. No one else needs to get hurt.”

“The Pelagic will be ready to go in two—three—days, max,” Parp said.

Darcy laughed without humor. “Didn’t you see what I just saw on that screen? I can’t wait days. I have to go now.”

Hain and Falrau exchanged a meaningful look. Darcy had no idea what that meant, and she didn’t care.

She strode for the door, pinning them both with an icy stare. “You can’t talk me out of this. Don’t you dare try to stop me, or so help me, I don’t know what I’ll do but it won’t be pleasant.”

Parp shrank away as Darcy brushed by him. She barely noticed.

She walked with purpose, creating checklists in her head of what she needed to do. First, to the training room, to gather her magnetic boots and gloves—with them, she could hit nearly twice as hard. She’d also grab the bolas they’d just begun practicing with. They were perfect to use to slow someone down. Instead of rope between the weights, Yunto had used a specially linked chain that Darcy could lock to make removal difficult. In addition, they were magnetic so she could easily manipulate them with her power.

She ordered Do’Vela to have someone prepare the Vile Sniper for a mission and recruit volunteers for a skeleton crew as fast as possible. She told her to have it loaded it with one small fighter and a full complement of ghost missiles, plus flash and grav bombs. As they spoke, Do’Vela let it slip that she was working with Hain and Falrau on analyzing the schematics of belastoise mining vessels and cross-checking with what was known of the Juisuit, to determine which type he possessed so they could pinpoint weaknesses.

Yunto had a class in session, so Darcy crept in, grabbed the boots, gloves, and bolas, and left without saying a word. She was sure he’d have some words of wisdom for her if she were to linger, but she wasn’t in a frame of mind to hear it right now.

She went back to her rooms and threw some stuff in a bag. Clean clothes, toiletries, a fresh bag of perk. She stood there for a moment, staring at the open bag, wondering why she was worrying about clean clothes or hair. It seemed ludicrous. When she knew that Adam had been…

She closed her eyes, crumpling a shirt between her fingers.

She had to face this head on.

He’d been damaged. Changed. Probably brainwashed.

None of that was his fault.

It could probably never be the same as it was before. Not now. But they could both be someone new together.

She’d help him. They’d both heal.

He needed her to be strong. To not think about anything but getting him out of there as fast as possible.

She grabbed the bag and gave the room a last look. She felt a craving to take something—a talisman or a keepsake—she wasn’t even sure what. But there wasn’t anything there. It was just a room she’d lived in for a while.

And she had nothing to rely on but herself now.

Do’Vela let her know that the access tunnel to the Vile Sniper had been connected and that last-minute arrangements were still underway. She left her quarters behind and headed for the access tunnel to board and supervise the final stages before they left the system.

She heard voices as she rounded the corner at the segment of the corridor that intersected with Hain’s lab. The door was open. Hain said, “With your encyclopedic knowledge of neurotoxins, let’s discuss what may be effective on a lovekaan.”

“I couldn’t begin to presume. It’s my understanding that very little is known of their physiology,” Nembrotha replied.

“I am here,” Falrau said. “Use me to understand.”

Darcy ground her teeth together and kept on walking.

Parp stood outside of the access tunnel. He had a bag in his hand. Then Goab appeared, also with a bag. They both turned and watched her come forward.

She scowled. “What are you doing here?”

She noticed Darcy6 was scurrying down the corridor toward the tunnel as well.

“The access tunnel just connected. We’re waiting for the cross-check before going through,” Goab said.

“I get that, but—”

Parp held up a hand. “You asked for volunteers. We volunteered. For the record, almost everyone on board volunteered. Do’Vela chose the officers and crewman with the most experience to man the Sniper.”

Darcy folded her arms. She felt angry about this, but she couldn’t argue with the logic. She wanted to protect her friends, not bring them along. Apparently, they had other ideas. “Fine. I just don’t want to worry about you when I’m dealing with him.”

Parp smiled. “You’ll worry less, knowing that we have things well in hand.” He fidgeted, rubbing his chin and rifling his hair. “So, ah, that thing that happened earlier… is that a standard human trait? Because I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He looked relieved that he’d managed to ask his question, but also nervous about her reply.

Darcy bit her lip and glanced at Goab and Darcy6. “No. I’m special. I’ll explain later.”

“Sure. Of course. No big deal.”

“Cross-check complete. The access tunnel is ready for use,” Do’Vela said.

Parp waived toward the hatch. “After you.”

43

As Darcy boarded, she frowned and scrunched up her nose. The Sniper still reeked. The smell, like body odor combined with decayed food on steroids, was overlaid with the powerful scents of cleaning products, but either the smell was ground in so much that it was uncleanable or the real source of the odors hadn’t been tackled yet. The combined smell seemed to be one hundred times worse than any one of them on their own.

It did not improve her mood one bit.

The Vile Sniper was a small destroyer. At the earliest point in its history, it had been part of a miremon fleet. In its current state, it was most likely stolen by its previous captain from some aging military on a colony world. In the intervening time, it had seen a lot of use by various peoples, none of them clean freaks.

Its component parts were a patchwork of tech from a multitude of civilizations, typical of the ships they took off of slavers. Fully manned for an extended cruise, the Sniper could hold a full complement of 150 crewman and ten officers, but even the slavers hadn’t had that many people aboard.

For this single trip away from her fleet, Darcy needed no more than twenty-five volunteer crewman to keep it going. The kuboderan navigator, Miki, housed in a pitifully small aquarium that was midway through significant upgrades, brought the total up to twenty-six.

“Welcome, Darcy,” Miki said to her as soon as she crossed over the lip of the hatch. She’d only met him once before, briefly, during a quick tour of this new asset. Miki wasn’t of sectilian origin, so he didn’t use any of the prefixes for his own name or any of the standard titles of the people he spoke to. He had a soft, seductive quality to his mental voice. A little strange, but whatever.

She wished Do’Vela could be brought in so she didn’t have to start fresh with a new kuboderan, but that wasn’t a simple task and they didn’t have time to mess around. She sighed. Her mood was foul and she was tempted to be cold and brusque, but she needed to moderate her tone and not lash out at innocent people, though it grated on her nerves. “Miki, I didn’t see the captain’s suite on my last visit. Can you guide me to it?”

“Certainly.”

Darcy left Parp, Darcy6, and Goab behind without a word and followed Miki’s instructions through the cramped passageways. This ship was long and slim. She imagined it was what a submarine might feel like. Claustrophobic. Very different from the Vermachten’s pentagonal shape, which lent itself to larger spaces. This ship was built for speed and point defense.

The armor wasn’t great, but it had plenty of offensive capability. Railguns, lasers, and missiles. It was meant for this kind of job. She would rather have used the Vermachten due to her familiarity, but there were far too many innocents aboard. She couldn’t risk it. This was the next-best choice.

When she opened the door to the Captain’s quarters, the smell made her take a step back and turn her head. She swore softly under her breath. Three hymenoptera looked up to see who’d come in. Apparently, they were racing to make the rooms presentable for her before they had to disembark for the jump. Everywhere she looked, there were flashing lights and gaudy, ornate, or brightly colored objects competing for her revulsion. The floor was sticky under her boots, and spilled substances covered most of the surfaces.

She did not want to deal with this.

“Would you like us to leave, Mistress?” one of them clacked.

“No. Get rid of as much of this crap as you can. If possible, have someone bring in the cleanest bed they can find. I’ll be on the bridge.”

“Of course, Mistress. Right away.”

She started to set her bag down, then thought better of it. One of the hymenoptera took it from her and placed it in a corner of the room that had already been cleaned. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Maybe she’d just sleep in the captain’s chair on the bridge.

“Miki, make a note to give those three crewmembers a bonus for dealing with that.”

“Duly recorded,” Miki replied.

As Darcy made her way through the cramped passageways to the bridge, Miki said, “Darcy, the crew has located a cache of what appears to be archeological items from behind a hidden panel in one of the holds. Would you like those to be offloaded now or left in place?” Miki’s voice oozed with sensuality.

Darcy blinked. More nonsense. She just wanted to get there.

But she had to deal with it.

Darcy’s brow knit together. “Did that crew deal in artifacts?”

“The captain had an affinity for perceived opulence.”

“I just saw their quarters. You don’t have to tell me.” She took in a deep breath, regretted that immediately, and held it as she thought. “Just have them leave it for now. I don’t want any delays. Does that stuff have any value?”

“Perhaps accidentally,” Miki said, injecting a distinct chuckling sound at the end.

Darcy walked through a particularly disturbing pocket of air. She pinched her nose against the stench. “Have the air recycler filters been checked? I think they need changing as soon as possible.”

“I have been asked that question seventy-eight times since you asked for the Vile Sniper to be readied for this mission. The filters have been changed three times in that time frame. Apparently, it has not helped the situation. Air-breathers are so picky.”

Darcy snorted. “I think I like you, Miki,” she said dryly.

“Oh, my dear captain. The feeling is mutual. I will be ever in your debt for my improved enclosure. Eighty-one times now, by the way. More people on board. More questions. So much to do.”

She could only imagine. “We’ve got more upgrades planned for you, after we complete this mission. I’ll leave you to it. Keep me informed.”

“Gladly. You’re my first priority.”

Darcy arrived on the bridge. The previous crew was still present and working. Parp and Goab had arrived before her.

Goab was busy with a brush, scrubbing the fog generator built into the console he’d be using, while his portable fog machine blasted at maximum output right next to him, its mist billowing all over the room. Someone had cranked up the bridge’s ventilation in an attempt to clear out the stink. Despite the increased airflow, the room was getting humid.

And the odor was still overwhelming at best.

Parp looked up, caught her expression, a grimace on his own face. “The air purification filters have been changed.”

“So I’ve heard. How are things looking, time-wise?”

“Shouldn’t be long now. All the checks are nearly complete. Though I do wish we could bring three shifts’ worth of cleaning crews along with us.”

“I heard that.” She looked at the state of the captain’s chair and sighed. It was every man or woman for themself. There was a crate of cleaning supplies by the door. She picked up a few things and worked out some frustration on the seat.

It didn’t help.

She should have sent in someone with a pressure washer. Or a blowtorch.

“One thing to note—and this won’t have anything to do with Miki—the jump drive in this boat is subpar. It’s functional, but it’ll be rougher than you’re used to on the Vermachten. Due to time constraints, we didn’t have it upgraded when we had the Sniper in dry dock for repairs, but it’s something we should do eventually for the crew’s comfort.”

“Noted.” Darcy sat down to create a duty roster, and put it up on the local intranet. She found it difficult to sit still long enough to complete it. She felt edgy and twitchy. It was hard to focus.

They needed to go.

All she could think about was Adam. What Raub was doing to Adam. Images from that call was still right there, popping up behind her eyes constantly.

She forced herself to handle a few more administrative tasks. They had to be done in order to get underway.

“Missile bays and other armaments fully loaded and charged, Captain,” Darcy6 said.

“System checks are done. Unnecessary crew is disembarking,” Parp said.

Finally.

Goab turned in his seat. His console’s fogger was up and running, and his entire area was clean, including a two-foot radius surrounding it—with a disturbing line of demarcation. “We’re being hailed by the Vermachten.”

Her heart squeezed. This might be her last chance to say goodbye to some of the people who had fought beside her and supported her for the past three years. She licked her lips and consciously tried to relax her tense muscles. “On screen.”

The view on the main screen changed from an image of the unnamed kuboderan planet rotating below to the Vermachten’s bridge. Hain, Yunto, Selpis, Nembrotha, and Falrau stood there, looking solemn.

“All the unnecessary crewman have left. Retracting the access tunnel now,” Parp said before anyone on screen said a word.

“We’re ready,” Darcy said. “Did you want to say something?”

“Please be careful,” Selpis said.

“Kill the bastard quickly and be done with it,” Nembrotha barked.

Hain took a step forward. “We’ve transmitted all the helpful information we were able to gather in such a short amount of time.”

“Don’t think big. Think small. Don’t use a sword when a needle will do,” Yunto said.

Hain turned to stare at him.

Falrau inclined her head slightly. “May your hunt be fruitful and your burdens light.”

Darcy exhaled heavily through her nose, her lips pressed in a tight line. The moment had come where she should say something meaningful to them, something grateful and gracious, but she just felt irritated. There were no flowery speeches in her right now. “I’ll contact you when it’s done. Vile Sniper out.”

44

Before they could jump, they had to put some distance between the Sniper and the planet. Jumping near a gravity well was risky.

She had several hours to get through.

To stew. Berate herself. Wallow in guilt.

And seethe.

She felt like she was moving through a fog. Nothing seemed real except the hate and the remorse and the longing for it to be over.

She walked back to the captain’s quarters because she didn’t know where else to go. A cart had been left in the corridor, locked against the wall, piled high with all the garbage from inside. They hadn’t had time to dispose of it before they’d had to leave.

She opened the door. It wasn’t completely clean. A new foam bed was stuck in one corner, with folded linens and her bag laid on top. A clean circumference surrounded it, very much like Goab’s on the bridge. The rest of the room had been stripped, but contrasting colored areas in various shades of yuck remained where all the trash had been sitting, from dust and who knew what else. There was still a crate of cleaning supplies near the door.

She didn’t know what to do with herself.

She crossed the tacky floor and sat down on the bed.

Her hands trembled. She clamped them down on her knees. She shuddered. Her stomach quivered and her breathing began to rasp in her throat.

Maybe if she just cried, she could be rid of some of this feeling. She opened her mouth, trying to let it out, but all she produced was a protracted low keening sound and a couple of tears trailing down her cheeks.

That was all she could do. It felt forced. A performance or something. For who? For herself?

It didn’t help.

Nothing could help this.

Maybe she was beyond tears, beyond sadness. There was nothing that could lift this feeling, because it wouldn’t go away until Adam was back in her arms.

But what if he didn’t? Wouldn’t? What if he was convinced he was on the right side already? What would she do then?

What if she could not fix this?

She closed her eyes and sat there for a long time.

It didn’t even seem like a choice. Suddenly, she was picking up an empty bucket and filling it with water and cleaning solution. She scrubbed viciously, giving the gunk no quarter. Sometimes, her eyes were blurry. Sometimes, some extra water fell from her face. But mostly, she whispered invectives and growled curses as she scoured until the floor and other surfaces were clean, her arms and knees ached, and the room smelled better. Grandma Harriet would be proud of her.

She put herself through an ionic cleansing sequence and rinsed her hair in a bucket. She made the bed robotically and laid down. Ideally, she’d sleep, so she could be fresh after the jump.

Sleep didn’t come. Her thoughts raced endlessly. She kept replaying the call with Raub over and over in her head, trying to remember every detail of Adam’s appearance before Raub cut the connection.

It hadn’t even seemed like Adam on the screen. It was like someone was pretending to be him and didn’t get the details quite right.

She didn’t know what Raub meant when he said Adam was a lovek. It terrified her. She had to assume he meant something more than cosmetic. But what? Not knowing was making her crazy.

Her chest ached when she thought about it, but she couldn’t produce any more tears. She was emotionally spent. Rage was all she had left.

Adam was the first and only person she’d ever met who saw her, loved her, faults and all. And sometimes she didn’t give him many good reasons because she’d been so stressed out in school.

He was such a rare guy. He didn’t get hung up on all that macho crap that so many guys did. He had dudebro friends who made fun of him for being so nice to everyone, and he just shrugged it off. He didn’t talk smack. He didn’t try to pretend he was anything more than he was.

They’d talked about it more than once. He didn’t see himself as special. He’d said, “We’re all just human. All this stuff dividing us doesn’t really have a lot of meaning. There are women who act like men, men who are more feminine, white folks who love black culture, black folks trying to be more white. Why does it matter so much to all of us? All these labels? Why can’t we just be? Why is conforming so important? Why isn’t diversity cherished instead of vilified?”

He was just a nice guy. They melded together seamlessly. Shared ideals. Shared future desires. They just worked, like no other relationship she’d had before. And he’d wanted to be with her. She’d been the lucky one.

She couldn’t imagine a future with any partner but him.

She didn’t know the flowery, poetic words to describe their relationship, but she did know it was special. And not in a romantic, naive way. In a true way—day-to-day living was more than good. Their partnership was vibrant, nurturing.

He didn’t deserve this.

No one did. But him least of all.

What if Raub had taken all that from him somehow?

There’d been no warmth in his eyes. No sparkle. He’d looked… sullen and dazed. She’d never seen him like that. What had happened to him?

Meditation didn’t bring any relief. She’d hoped it might help her sleep, but no. Her body felt tired. Her brain definitely was not.

Finally, she pushed herself out of her spiraling thoughts of doom and connected with Miki. She might as well study now rather than waiting for the final leg of the journey. It would be a good idea to stay focused on something else. “Did you receive the data that Hain sent over? Can you show it to me?”

“With pleasure.”

Darcy closed her eyes as Miki fed her the information. She’d found that learning things from Do’Vela in this way helped her remember them better than studying a screen full of information on her own. It was a similar experience with Miki. The kuboderans had a way of making the most important facts stick when they showed them to her. Details about the Juisuit flowed over her. There were definitely some weak points they could exploit.

Then, details about lovekaan physiology, as gleaned from Hain’s study of Falrau.

Darcy gasped and sat up. Their internal organs were arranged completely differently from humans. They had multiple redundancies, and some organ systems were incredibly dissimilar by comparison. No wonder she hadn’t realized Raub wasn’t dead. His heart wasn’t high in his chest like a human’s; it was down below his left armpit. And he must have fallen into a regenerative state of torpor, something humans couldn’t do. If she had known all this then, she might have acted differently.

Damn it. She should have cut his head off. Sliced him up. Something. Anything besides walking away and leaving him lying there.

Now she had to think about what was to come. What she’d have to do to stop him. Lovekaans were extremely hardy and difficult to kill. They’d evolved on a world with a harsh environment and survived only because of extreme adaptations. It made the task ahead of her daunting, but it was still possible. She just had to be smart. The only way to stop him from hunting her for the rest of her days and hurting dozens of other people in the process was to kill him. If he wouldn’t listen to the counsel of his closest family member, he wasn’t going to suddenly see the light and change his life now.

He was beyond redemption.

It was her job to stop him. She knew this with a certainty that she no longer questioned.

Miki closely monitored her progress through the information. When she had absorbed it all, Miki said, “I’ve already programmed the weapons station with the Juisuit’s weakest but not critical points in mind, knowing you’ll want to disable the ship’s jump and weapons capability without injuring the passengers. Does that meet with your approval?”

“Yes, of course. When we arrive in the system, can you plot a trajectory that will keep us concealed for as long as possible?”

“Already plotted. I’m very familiar with this tactic.”

“I noticed,” Darcy replied.

“I wish for you to know that this outcome is agreeable to me. I was as loyal as required to my previous captain. Over the years, I’ve had many, many captains and crews, some were benign, some were cruel, but none so kind as you. You have changed my personal circumstances to such a degree, I cannot help but remark upon it. I’ve spoken at length with Do’Vela and feel quite comfortable telling you that I will do all I can to assist you in your endeavors. I want to keep you around for selfish reasons. You’ve more than earned my utter and complete loyalty.” His voice was seductive and silky smooth.

Darcy nodded absently. “Okay. Thank you, Miki.”

“Jump drive spooling sequence commencing now, Darcy. We’ll be opening a wormhole shortly, with three long-distance jumps in rapid succession.”

“Good.”

“My pleasure.”

She felt hungry, so she ate something from her bag, but the feeling didn’t completely go away. It didn’t radiate from her stomach. It was an itch under her skin, or a reaching-out for something. She recognized the feeling. She’d felt it off and on her whole life, but it wasn’t until the long journey to Ulream that she’d realized what it was. Her apochondria were low. She’d only recharged on planets a few times since Ulream.

Things had gotten so out of control, she hadn’t been paying attention to her body. There was no way she could face Raub in this state. It would be suicide. She had to do something about it. She considered asking Miki to plot a stop at a planet along the way, but she had another idea.

She found Parp alone in the tiny engineering compartment, monitoring the jump drive as it spun up. “Do you have a minute? I have something I’d like to explain to you and an experiment I need your help with.”

His fuzzy white brows shot up. “Sure.”

Darcy told him everything. About what happened in the Arizona desert, what Raub really wanted, what she’d learned about her true genetics from Hain.

As she spoke, he pulled up a chair and sat, deep in thought. “So, you’re sort of like a living supercapacitor,” he said.

“I was thinking more like a battery,” she replied.

“No, a battery holds chemical energy, which is converted to electricity. That doesn’t sound like what you do, unless I misunderstood. Capacitors store energy in an electric field.”

She considered that. “All I know is that I have to charge now, before we get to Raub.”

He looked around the room, thinking. “So you can be in tip-top fighting shape.”

“It’s not that simple. I sometimes drain the charge off small electronics, but that’s just a drop in the bucket.”

He rubbed his chin. “Well, that explains a lot. Often, when you use a tablet, even for just a few minutes, it comes back nearly dead.”

“I do try not to do that. It’s hard to keep myself neutral sometimes, especially when I’m distracted. What I was told is that druids use strong localized fields of magnetic force, but on a planet—gravity has something to do with it. I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me try to recreate that in my quarters. And, I know I probably don’t have to say this, but this can’t be common knowledge. We have to be discreet.”

“Creating an electromagnetic field is relatively simple. Any boob can build a solenoid. And there are more elegant ways to do that as well. I should be able to find several components that will work easily in the spare-parts storage onboard. Getting the frequency and amplitude right for you may be a different matter.” He frowned and picked up a tablet. “However, if you can do this on any planet, the frequency and amplitude will naturally vary, possibly by a great deal.” He tapped around on his computer and slowly walked away without saying anything more.

“Should I go with you?” she asked.

“No,” he said absently. I’m going to look at a few things and then…”

Miki cut in, “Jumping in five… four… three…”

Parp’s expression went wild. “Hold on to something!”

Darcy grabbed the nearest console. “Is it going to be that ba—”

Her surroundings stuttered with a blurring, ghosting effect, like her eyes weren’t keeping up with reality. Her vision constricted down to a pinprick of light, then exploded back open again. She stumbled forward, not sure if it was from motion or the sudden sense of imbalance she was stricken with. The disorientation lasted a few more moments before she came back to center. She still felt a little unsteady on her feet.

“Whoa. You weren’t kidding.”

Parp grimaced. “Yeah, and we’re going to do that again in just a few minutes.”

She blew a long breath between her lips. “Two more times. We need to upgrade the jump drive stat.”

The next two jumps were just as bad. Maybe a little worse, because her inner ear seemed to need a little more time to adjust each time. After that, she studied the diagrams of the Juisuit some more in her quarters until Parp rang the bell.

He wheeled in a cart piled with an assortment of equipment and proceeded to connect that to the computer console in her room. “Wow. You’ve got the cleanest room on the ship. Somebody really likes you.”

“I like me,” she said. “But my aching muscles do not.”

He shot her a doubtful look. “I’ve seen your quarters on the Vermachten.”

“They’re cluttered, not coated with a decade of spilled beer and nutrient sludge. I’m messy, not a monster.”

“Good point.” He turned back to his set up. “You ready to experiment? You’ll need to come closer, I think.”

He tapped some switches and adjusted a digital readout on a display. “We’ll start low, to be safe.”

“Is it going to be safe for you to be in here?” she asked.

“Yes. If it becomes unsafe, I’ll leave. I know my limitations. Ready?”

She nodded. He put his arms on her shoulders and maneuvered her to stand right next to the tall round metal cylinder on the cart.

“If this is going to work, the range will be from thirty-five to seventy-two on this dial. I wouldn’t go higher than that. I’ve calibrated this to simulate the range of natural electromagnetic fields on habitable worlds.”

“But I charge in areas where that’s significantly higher.”

“I took that into account,” he said solemnly. Then he tapped the final switch.

Instantly, she felt drawn to the metal cylinder. “I feel something, but it’s weak.”

His brows drew together. “How do you know that? Can you sense the field?”

“It’s like a watery yellow to me.”

“You can see the electromagnetic field?”

She swallowed and moved closer to the device. “Not exactly. It just makes me think yellow.” She reached out and tapped the screen to increase the displayed number by five. The yellow feeling grew stronger.

Still too low. She increased it by ten.

She saw yellow-green in her mind’s eye. Closer.

She reached into the floor for the gravity emitters, increasing their strength just a bit. That was better. That helped.

“Don’t go too fast,” Parp said.

“I’m fine. It’s working.”

She punched it up another ten levels. Her fingers tingled. She itched to touch the cylinder itself, but she wasn’t sure if she should.

“Okay, you’re getting near the top of the range, Darcy.”

She reached out to touch the display again, but a spark arced from her finger. She pulled her hand back.

“Don’t touch it right now. I’ll change it. You want seventy?”

“Yes, it’s almost optimal.”

He adjusted the display.

Blue. Finally.

She felt her body stiffen, then go rigid. She had to fight not to let herself touch the device. The blue lines lit up under her skin.

She panted.

She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to resist the attraction. She forced herself to pull down instead—on the gravity beneath her—increasing it in the area around her feet gradually, to the feeling of a dense world. It seemed to increase her intake, and she suddenly reached a tipping point when she became stronger than the draw of the device.

“…Darcy, you okay? Hey—you okay?” Parp’s voice seemed distant.

It was hard to focus. She was being pulled down so much, it was difficult to move her jaw to answer.

It started to hurt. She gritted her teeth. Her body was trembling.

“I’m turning it off now, slowly. We should take a break and assess.”

The field weakened. She let go of the gravity. The color behind her closed eyes faded to a pale yellow, then disappeared. She sagged against the wall behind her.

When she opened her eyes, Parp was hovering over her, his fist smashed against his lips.

“Don’t touch me,” she groaned. “I’m not balanced. I’ll shock you.”

“Did it actually work?” he asked. He sounded bewildered. “You were glowing.”

“Yeah. That’s how it works.”

“That was fast. Definitely a supercapacitor. So, you’re fully charged?”

She straightened, already recovering. She called up the blue glow to just the palm of her hand. It felt strong and true. “Yes. There’s definitely a component missing. Sunlight, maybe? But it definitely worked. I need a permanent setup like this to use periodically. Recharging on planets is risky.”

Parp was staring at the device. He scratched his neck. “I’ll take a hard look at the data collected during the test. I don’t think you should use this without someone you trust present to make sure everything’s okay and you’re safe.” His lips twisted as he thought. “And I’m definitely going to have to put a timer on this rig.”

45

The final jump dumped them just outside the Livoul system in the shadow of a huge blue gas giant. This system did not have a flat plane of the ecliptic which meant all objects were spread out as much as thirty degrees off the star’s equatorial plane. Miki had picked the egress point very carefully, so that the size and EM interference of the gas giant would hide the jump window.

The system was named for a single planet, the third from its star, that did not harbor sentient life although it was in the habitable zone. Used for generations as a mining depot, it was now considered unstable and unsafe due to the surface being riddled with pits, quarries, and strip mines, all overlaid atop deep mining tunnels that extended nearly to the planet’s mantle.

When it had been tapped to the point that equipment loss during standard operation threatened to outweigh profits, the mining companies left, and the planet was now used only rarely by criminals desperate enough to eke out an existence outside of the law governing nearby systems. The atmosphere was thin because little of the flora and fauna had survived the assault on the environment. There were definitely safer places to go if that was the goal, but it was relatively close to the galactic core, so it had that going for it. If obtaining fuel was a problem, though, all commerce hubs in the system were now space debris.

Darcy ruminated over why Raub would choose this place over any other. Something he had done or was doing required that he stay close to the galactic core for ease of transportation, but he also needed to stay hidden. A mining ship in orbit probably wouldn’t yield much more than a passing glance to a casual observer. There was abandoned mining gear all over the surface and in orbit.

The Vile Sniper traversed most of the system in dark mode, functionally keeping all traceable emissions to a minimum, but as fast as possible, having built up velocity well before they reached the gas giant. When the time finally came for them to skirt that planet, Miki adjusted course, using thrusters only while hidden to keep objects like asteroids, planets, and abandoned space stations between the Vile Sniper and Raub’s sightline so they would look like just another rock drifting through space.

Darcy hoped Raub was scanning for the signature of the Vermachten and would miss the smaller, lighter vessel completely. Raub knew they were coming, but she didn’t want him to have too much time to marshal his resources, whatever they might be, though surely he must expect them at any time now.

She spent the long hours alternately memorizing the layout of the Juisuit until she felt like she’d been there, attempting meditation, and pacing her quarters and the bridge. She was on edge and could barely keep her energy banked. It was all she could do to remain civil to those around her. She was completely jacked up and ready to fight.

The Juisuit was a lumbering mining vessel. It’d be more constricted by orbital mechanics than they would. It was technically no match for the Vile Sniper, which had been built to fight, even if Raub had attempted to trick it out as he’d done with the Vermachten. The Sniper was light and had speed and maneuverability on its side.

When they reached the point where they had to cross the final distance to Livoul, they put the Sniper in orbit around one of the fourth planet’s moons and scanned for evidence of the Juisuit, hoping Raub wouldn’t catch sight of them. They measured the Juisuit’s orbital period and waited to traverse the last leg until he passed out of sight around Livoul.

The crew suited up in case of a breach and kept helmets at the ready. Her teams were manning their battle stations. The laser cannons were charged. Missiles and railguns were ready to fire. She was not going to let him escape only to haunt her again and again.

This would end now.

The distance closed quickly. They chased him around the planet, staying out of visual until the last possible moment.

“As soon as we’re in range, drop the ghost missiles and the flash and grav bombs. Dart around him and try to stay in his blind spots. He can’t maneuver like we can. Hit his vulnerable points with everything—I mean everything—we’ve got. Don’t let up unless we have evidence that the Juisuit might lose air or blow up,” Darcy announced over the anipraxic link. She was seated in the captain’s chair, gripping the armrests so hard, her knuckles had blanched white.

Juisuit came into view at a much lower orbit.

Her eyes were glued to the viewscreen as the Juisuit slowly turned to face them.

“The Juisuit is hailing,” Parp said.

“Ignore it,” Darcy replied. There was nothing he had to say that she needed to hear right now. It was a delay tactic—to bait her, to threaten Adam, or to gloat. She wasn’t going to fall for it.

They dived in like a bird of prey, then swooped away, leaving behind the packages meant to confuse and disorient. Laser fire chased them, but Miki’s flying was inspired. He kept them dipping and twirling and looping back around in a mercurial dance without any trace of a pattern. That had to be hard to follow.

“The Juisuit just launched guided missiles,” Goab said. “Looks like AI-driven models, very smart. Three of them. He’s got two launch bays.”

That was a very fast response time. He may have seen them coming or had been waiting with his trigger finger.

“Railguns, do your thing,” Darcy ordered.

The Vermachten didn’t have railguns, though some of the other ships in her fleet did. This type of weapon used electromagnetic force rather than an explosion to launch projectiles at high velocity. No warheads needed. The projectiles reached a level of kinetic energy that tore stuff apart without needing to explode.

But these weren’t just any guided missiles. They were tenacious, wily, difficult to come by, and about as expensive as a small shuttle. The fact that he’d just launched three was shocking.

Miki kept trying to shake them. The gunners were persistent, but it was clear right away that the AI in the missiles could outsmart the Sniper’s onboard computers. Darcy ordered them to switch to manual.

Goab stated, “We were just clipped by laser fire, port aft. There’s some damage. Holding air… Still assessing…”

“We’ve got to get that laser cannon and whatever he’s using to launch missiles,” Darcy said, half-rising from her seat.

Miki’s voice, dripping with pleasure, curled in her mind. “Your wish is my command. Coordinating attack sequence now.”

Damn. The kuboderan was loving this.

The railguns shot down one of the guided missiles. Two more to go.

She ground her teeth in frustration. It was hard to do anything offensive when these missiles were taking most of their attention. They had to get them out of the way.

“We lost a couple of thrusters in that laser blast. There’s a small chemical fire. They’re putting it out now,” Goab said.

Her people were calm. Motivated. This was part of it. They wouldn’t get out of this without a few battle scars.

“Is there any chance of losing air?” Darcy asked.

“If we’re hit in that same spot again, yes,” Goab replied.

“All hands—get your helmets on,” Darcy said. She put on her own, gritting her teeth against rising nausea. Watching the viewscreen with all the swirling movements was getting crazy, but mad props to Miki. His flying was pure genius.

Darcy’s ghost missiles clearly hadn’t tricked Raub, but the flash and grav bombs were doing their job.

They plunged. Impossibly close to the Juisuit. Darcy instinctively shrank into her seat.

The Sniper’s railguns took out the laser. And they were away.

The crew cheered around her.

Two guided missiles still dogged them.

“They’re loading another volley of missiles, likely more of the same,” Goab said.

Darcy was soaked with sweat inside her suit. “Come on, come on,” she murmured.

Miki managed to confuse one of the missiles to the extent that it exploded against the Juisuit. Then he dove beneath, came up and around the Juisit in an arc, and the Sniper’s laser hit one of Raub’s retrofitted missile bays with extended fire. Muted explosions flashed and went out. They got it.

Proximity alerts blared.

“That last missile is getting close,” Goab warned. “I predict detonation in…”

“Let’s just take care of that now,” Miki cooed. Darcy sensed him warning the laser operator to be ready to lock on.

They twirled and curved, narrowly avoiding some debris from all of the explosions. Lasers fired. Railguns joined in for good measure. A direct hit. It was gone.

“Two new missiles are about to launch from the other bay,” Goab said.

“Oh, I’m on it,” Miki replied in a soft purr.

The second retrofitted missile bay swung into view. A missile had just launched on a direct course.

Darcy’s heart jumped in her throat.

Railgun and laser fire obliterated it mere meters from the nose of the Sniper. The hull was pelted with debris. The sounds were deafening.

“Damage report,” Darcy said as soon as she could be heard.

“Minor—it looks minor,” Goab called out.

Meanwhile, Raub had launched the second and it had dived low to come up beneath them.

Laser and railgun bombarded the missile launch bay. That should take care of that.

Miki swooped them away.

But firing on the bay had taken too long.

The final missile exploded against the Sniper.

Darcy tumbled from her seat.

“Bottom, amidship,” Goab shouted in her head.

Darcy pulled herself back into the captain’s chair. “Report!”

“Decompression… confirmed,” Goab said, his knobby hands flying over his console. “Emergency systems kicked in. That section is sealed off.”

“All hands, report in,” Darcy’s mental voice sounded shrill in the chaos.

“We lost someone in engineering.” Parp said. He stared at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Darcy52. The jump drive is gone.”

Her people reported in. Everyone else was accounted for. Just a couple of minor injuries.

Darcy’s breath exploded in and out of her. She physically hurt from this loss. But there wasn’t time to mourn, or to think about the consequences. The Juisuit had changed course.

Oh, no, you bastard. You’re not getting away now.

“Railgunner number one, switch to stiletto rails. We have to take out their jump drive.”

Darcy suddenly realized they were drifting.

Her heart stuttered. “Miki? You okay?”

“There is a small crack in my enclosure,” he replied slowly in a small voice.

Something was wrong. She sensed it was worse than he’d stated.

Darcy looked to Parp. “On my way,” he said.

“Parp is coming to help, Miki. It’ll be okay. Anyone that can be spared should assist Parp in Miki’s chamber right now. Miki takes priority over secondary tasks.”

“Stiletto conversion complete, Captain,” one of the gunners said.

It would take just one stiletto, precisely placed, to take out Raub’s jump drive without doing catastrophic damage to the rest of the ship.

“Miki, can you bring us around so we can kill their jump drive before they get any ideas about running?”

“Certainly.” He sounded more like his usual self.

They quickly moved into position and made short work of the Juisuit’s jump drive.

Raub wasn’t going anywhere.

46

“How’s Miki?” Darcy asked.

Three individuals had left their stations to assist Parp with the repair. First, they had to get the emergency systems to let them into that section.

“He’s lost one-third of his water supply and it looks like one of the pumps is slag, melted by the heat from the explosion. It’s pretty messy down here. He’s a little warmer than he’d like, which is making him feel a bit poorly, I think. We’re working to patch him up, cool him off, top up his tank, and replace that part.”

“How are you feeling, Miki?”

Waves of gratitude washed over her. “Much better now. Thank you.”

“Can you move us off just a little?”

“With pleasure.”

“All hands, stay alert. We don’t know what else Raub’s got planned. As soon as my fighter is free, put some distance between us.”

A chorus of Aye, Captain echoed in her head.

She turned to Goab. “The bridge is yours. Keep everyone safe.”

He stood. “May the legends of the stars guide you, Darcy.”

She nodded. Someday, she hoped she would be able ask him what the legends of the stars were.

She made her way down one deck level via a set of stairs. One of the backup railgun operators, Darcy31, met her there and walked with her to the small bay where the fighter was parked. “I’ve checked the Crimson Glow for you, Mistress. She’s ready.”

Darcy flew the Crimson Glow from time to time for practice, though it had been a while. Like most of the fleet, it was ancient and had been repaired many times. It was originally a halbor ship, sturdy, with lots of life left in it. She wasn’t the most experienced pilot, but she couldn’t risk taking anyone else along on this trip. It was too dangerous.

Even if Raub had some kind of ordnance left, she didn’t think he’d fire on the fighter. He wanted her aboard. That’s where the real threat would lie.

And his pleasure.

She climbed in and closed the hatch. The bag with her gloves, boots, and bolas were tucked behind the pilot’s seat, just where she’d left them. She settled in, ran her own system checks, and once she was certain Darcy31 had safely left the bay, she started the launch sequence. “Crimson Glow is ready for launch.”

“Opening the bay door now,” Miki said. “Call on us if you need us. I’ll hear you. And lastly, stay frosty.”

Darcy choked on her own spit and her lip curled up briefly in spite of everything. “You too, Miki.”

The bay door slid all the way open and Darcy eased the Crimson Glow out and away. The navigation computer had already been set on autopilot by Darcy31 to take her to the bay on the Juisuit she’d decided on. She leaned forward, ready to tap off the autopilot and take evasive maneuvers if necessary. The Sniper lifted to a higher orbit, just as she’d asked.

She crossed the distance without incident. As she approached, the bay door opened, welcoming her inside. Her heart sped up in her chest.

This was it.

He wasn’t even going to make her ask nicely. Why should he? This was exactly what he wanted. Though she was sure he’d have preferred to keep his jump drive and weapons.

But he wasn’t going to need them anymore.

She guided the Crimson Glow into the bay and landed. She waited inside, sipping on a pouch of water and watching the only door into the rest of the ship, until the fighter signaled that the bay had come back up to pressure and that the air was normal and safe to breathe.

She popped the hatch, took off her helmet, tied her hair back quickly, and slid from the cockpit with her bag. As soon as the ontopo suit’s boots hit the floor, she was slipping it off. In some fights, it conferred an advantage—it was defensive armor, it obfuscated her species, it protected her from decompression.

While she would dearly love to end this quickly by putting a projectile through Raub’s head, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The suit, as awesome as it was, wasn’t her primary strength. She was not Iron Man. The power inside her couldn’t be used while she was wearing it. Raub might have a way to disable it. Taking it off in the heat of the moment could make her more vulnerable than not wearing it all.

Keeping her eyes on the door as much as possible, she put on her gloves and boots, attached the bolas at her waist, and pushed the ontopo suit under the Crimson Glow out of sight.

She marched for the door.

Every muscle was tense. Her skin tingled. As she tapped the door control, a small jolt arced from her fingertips. It opened.

The corridor was empty. He was playing his mind games. No surprise there.

She headed for the bridge. She could hear the ship creaking and groaning. The gravity bombs were still doing their work.

When she turned a corner, a figure stood there. Nokk. The one who had answered the call.

He stood at ease as she approached.

When she was about ten feet from him, his muzzle wrinkled. “This way,” he growled, and turned down another corridor.

She followed. He was heading for the cargo section. There would be open areas there. So, that was where Raub wanted his fight. That suited her fine.

Nokk paused outside a door.

Darcy stepped up to him and stared at him hard.

He ignored that and tapped the door control. It opened.

Darcy turned immediately to face the doorway. She couldn’t see anyone. She glanced at Nokk. He impatiently indicated the door.

She stepped through and heard it shut behind her.

The room was largely empty. Crates were stacked in rows near the back. A crane with a hook on its end was suspended near the ceiling, with a large operator panel built into the wall to the right. A few other stacks of crates around the edges of the room. Lots of glittery black dust on the flooring.

Raub stepped from the right side of the room. “My old friend,” he boomed. “So good of you to come.”

“Where’s Adam?”

He gestured expansively. “No need to be rude. All in good time. Please, have a drink. Refresh yourself.”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah, Leebska, how much you’ve grown.”

“Fuck you.” She launched herself into a flying kick, aimed at his lower left torso where his kidney-like organs were vulnerable.

He sidestepped, but she was ready for that. She landed and whipped around with her heel, pushing extra force into the blow with her power, following up with a rapid set of hard punches to his head. She ducked under his return blow and lunged into him, sending a decent amount of electricity through the touch, to knock him off balance.

He lurched back. For a fleeting moment, she felt a spurt of elation. He was still fighting the same as he always did, while she’d kept training, learning new techniques, gaining new tools.

But then she realized he had ahold of her wrist. And like a vice, he was clamping down. His strength was unbelievable. He was going to pinch her hand off. She screamed and sent a spike of intense gravity under him while simultaneously pushing force into her glove. It went down like a stone, loosening his grasp. She let go of the gravity and jumped back out if his reach.

He clucked his tongue. His eyes flashed. “New tricks.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me, I do.”

He was loving this.

They danced around each other, feinting jabs, almost mirrorlike, wary, assessing.

He went in for a punch and she dove down, swept up his leg, and drove it up high. He fell on his back. She increased the gravity beneath him to slow his ability to rise, and hammered her knee into his chest while raining blows on his head and neck. Blue blood spurted from his face.

She didn’t stop, all the rage inside her coming out.

The time was now. She had to kill him. She had to make him stop.

Someone pushed her from behind and she flew forward. She rolled and got to her feet, turning to see who had thrown her. Nokk, maybe?

It was Adam.

Strange hair. Dead-eyed expression. So different. But still Adam. The man she loved.

Her heart clenched.

She glanced at Raub. He was still down.

“Adam. I’m so glad I finally found you. I’ve been looking for you for years, baby. I’m here to take you home, if you want to go. Or not. Whatever you want to do. Let’s…”

He was advancing on her, a murderous look like she’d never seen in his eyes.

“Adam? Come on, Adam. This is our chance.” She backed up, still talking. “He’s done something to you. Something horrible. I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to find you.”

He threw a punch.

She dodged and kept moving back. Tears welled up in her eyes. Try as she might, she could never have prepared herself for this. “No, baby, it’s me. Don’t do this. I need you.”

He kept coming.

She ducked, blocked, deflected, and continued to talk. “He’s the one who hurt you. I’m here to help you get away.”

“Hurt me? He’s the one who saved me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raub sit up.

She pleaded with him, “Saved you? From what? Adam, we don’t have much time. If we work together, we can stop him from hurting anyone else.”

“He saved me when you left me for dead on Ulream.”

Her mouth fell open. She almost didn’t block in time. “Sweetie, you were never on Ulream. I was. He was. But not you. He took me there to hunt me down and kill me. I barely survived. Apparently, we both did.” She glanced at Raub. He was on his knees now, his head bowed, blue blood dripping down onto the flooring.

A flicker of confusion passed over Adam’s face, replaced quickly with anger. “Don’t fuck with me, Darcy. You left us both for dead. Mangled and burned. They had to fix us both.”

“No. He lied to you. He did something to you to turn you against m—”

His right fist connected with her jaw.

She staggered back, tasting blood and staring at his right arm. That was an inhumanly strong blow. No way could the Adam she knew have punched like that. “What did they do to you?”

“They plucked out my dead eyes and gave me better ones. They cut off my burnt arm and leg and remade them. They improved my sense of taste, smell, hearing. They made me stronger.”

It was worse than she’d imagined. She wanted to scream, but she had to stay calm. This was his reality now. She had to convince him who’s side she was on. “You know they is him, right? He orchestrated everything to make this moment happen. This is his revenge on me for not dying the way he wanted me to.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Raub get to his feet and wipe his face on his shirt.

This was bad. This was real bad.

She had to make him remember what they had.

“Oh, my God, Adam, please—do you remember our first kiss? I was so into you but so afraid. A brown woman with all kinds of ambitions, and you had just told me that was exactly what you were looking for. You didn’t see that as a threat. My teeth chattered—it was July. I could barely breathe. You held me close and asked me if I was okay. You were so perfect, I was afraid you weren’t real. But you were. And we got to know each other better and we shared so much—we see the world the same way, we want the same things from life. We both want to help our people, to serve. We get each other, better than anyone else in the world. We take care of each other. You said once that we were right, we were truth. We were our own puzzle made of two pieces. Come on, Adam, you have to remember!”

“I remember. I thought I was in love with you. Now I know better. None of that was real.”

It might as well have been a physical blow. She shuffled back a step, her breath hitching in her throat. Her eyes wandered, unfocused. Raub was approaching. She felt urgency, but her response time was delayed. “How could you say that?”

The kick caught her off guard. It sent her flying back into the crane’s operator control panel. She crumpled to the floor. Her head was spinning. She struggled to her feet, but she was too slow.

He hit her again and again, punctuating each kick and punch with another lie that Raub had put in his head.

“You foolishly used your power and got the alien’s attention.”

“You lied to me about what it was.”

“You manipulated everyone around you because you wanted the Vermachten for yourself.”

“You left us for dead when all we wanted to do was help you.”

“You’re a total bitch and this is your karmic reward.”

She had her arms over her head, trying to block the worst of the blows. She spat out a mouthful of blood. “No,” she whimpered. “None of that is true.”

Raub laughed and slow-clapped.

The assault stopped.

She looked up to see Adam trembling with fury, Raub’s hand on his shoulder.

She sobbed once. This is exactly what Raub wanted. All of this.

This was theater to him. Everything had fallen into place, just as he’d planned.

47

Darcy dragged herself to her feet and pushed some energy out from her core. If she could just heal for a moment, she might have a chance to survive this. Maybe even win. Adam was strong and he’d taken martial arts classes for years on Earth, but that was nothing against the years and intensity of training she’d been through, much less the raw power she had at her disposal, though that right arm and leg were frighteningly strong.

She couldn’t hurt him, but she could find a way to slow him down.

And now Raub was coming for her.

She closed her eyes, felt for the overhead lights, and put them out. Then she pulled gravity down from the deck above and made the gravity below her null. Immediately, she floated up toward the ceiling, rotated her orientation, and landed with a clang. They couldn’t touch her there. Not easily. Though she knew that Raub, at least, could still see her. Maybe Adam too.

It was a lot to manage at once. Trying to heal even a little bit, to keep the lights out, manipulating the gravity. She just needed a few minutes. Her eyes unfocused as she tried to be aware of everything at once, do everything at once.

A red sparkle caught her eye. Then another. A line of light caught by the mining dust they’d kicked up while fighting. Her hip heated up. Her brain took a split second to catch up.

A laser.

She smelled something burning.

Raub was shooting a laser at her.

Damn it. The suit would have protected her from this.

She burst into a limping run across the ceiling, adjusting the gravity as she went, and dropped down behind the tall stacks of crates at the rear of the room as silently as possible. She stifled her panting, bent at the waist, gritting her teeth against the pain in her hip, and stepped quietly into the rows of crates.

She had to be smarter than this. He wanted her to be emotionally blindsided. He was counting on that. He knew it was the only way he could win. The bastard.

Raub was still chuckling. She heard his footfalls as he walked casually among the crates, murmuring taunts. By the sound of his voice, he was getting close.

She couldn’t take on both of them at once, not without hurting Adam. She had to split them up.

She redirected the gravity again, and one of the crates lifted from the top of a stack alongside her. As she jogged across the ceiling, it crashed to the floor, spilling its contents. Flashing the lights on for a second, she caught sight of Adam waiting outside the stacks of crates. He looked up just as she put the lights out again. She grabbed one of the bolas from her belt and threw it at his legs. Based on the sounds she heard, she had to assume it had hit where she wanted. She commanded the interconnected links to lock together.

Another line of red light caught by dust motes.

Her left foot was blazing hot.

Instantly she reacted, dropping down and releasing the lights. As soon as she made contact with the floor, she steadied her stance and threw another bola at Adam’s arms as he was working to pry off the leg bola. It landed well. She locked that one, too.

Adam cursed. Raub was coming around the stacks, moving faster.

She kept Adam between her and Raub, grabbed him and tossed him with her up to the ceiling. He writhed and twisted. He was so strong. The bolas weren’t going to hold him long. She had to immobilize him even more. Throwing him over her shoulder, she ran with him back to the crane, picked up the hook, which was now lying against the ceiling, and passed it through the bola near his feet. She released the gravity bubble. They both dropped, but he was suspended in midair by his legs.

She landed on her feet with one hand out to steady her.

Now she had to deal with just Raub.

He walked across the room, cocky and sure. He raised his laser and pointed it at the crane.

“No!” She forgot the pain and sprinted to him, knocking the weapon from his hand. Behind her, she heard Adam hit the floor.

Raub grabbed her around the waist, attempting to pick her up. Instinctively, she pushed her legs back, leaned in, locked her hips, and lowered her center of gravity. They both went down, but neither of them had an advantage yet. They grappled as he made multiple attempts at submission holds and pins.

He was bigger and therefore stronger on the floor. She found an opening and used her arm like a piston against the decking to roll free and get to her feet. She edged away, giving herself some breathing room as Raub stalked after her.

She backed right into Adam, now broken free of the bolas. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her hands down at her sides, and wrapped his right hand around his left wrist to lock her in place. She bucked and kicked, attempting to destabilize his hold. He got his right leg around hers and pulled it back, immobilizing her even more.

Raub was gloated in her face.

She spit on him. “You think this is a fair fight? Two against one?”

We wiped his face casually. “No one said anything about fair.”

Then he pummeled her face with his fists.

She kicked up with her free leg, square into his man-bits. It didn’t faze him. She kicked again, and again, slowly losing steam as her face took a beating. She could barely think.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Through her groggy, blood-soaked vision, she saw Raub look toward the door. Adam turned, taking her with him. She saw what they saw.

Nokk staggered into the room, his eyes wild.

He fell over, a yellow tube sticking out of his back, revealing Hain and Falrau standing in the doorway. They met her gaze. Miki and Do’Vela connected to her in that moment, giving her Hain and Falrau’s eyes and ears and minds.

Help. Help had come.

Miki and Do’Vela pounded Raub’s mind, dulling his senses, attempting to confuse him.

Hain lifted her arm and aimed a weapon at Raub. She fired.

Raub’s eyes went wide and he looked down. A blue tube was stuck in his side just below his left armpit. He pulled it out, roared with anger, and tossed it across the room.

He charged Hain, his wild anger pushing Miki and Do’Vela to the fringes of his mind. “You ungrateful bitch!”

But his movements seemed slower, more sluggish. They’d injected him with the only thing they could come up with that his metabolism wouldn’t be able to ignore—a slow acting paralytic.

Falrau stepped in front of Hain. “No, brother. That is quite enough.”

He slammed into her, but she was braced and stopped him in his tracks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he sneered, his words coming out in a drunken slur. “You better take your precious sewing and go home, Falrau, before you get hurt.”

Darcy let herself go limp in Adam’s grasp, forcing him to hold her up. “Are you seeing this? Do you know who that is? That woman is Raub’s sister.”

Hain dropped a canister from her weapon and pulled another one from the bandolier that was draped across her chest. She ignored the shouting match between Falrau and Raub and studiously loaded the fresh canister, checked it carefully, then aimed it at Darcy and fired. It hit her in the left thigh.

Darcy’s mouth fell open. “What the…”

Blood thundered in her ears. Intense cold radiated outward from her thigh. She shivered with discomfort.

One heartbeat.

Another.

Her head cleared. Colors seemed more intense. The lighting was brighter. The weakness left her limbs.

Hain was walking away, holstering the gun, and pulling out another.

Darcy turned her head. Adam’s grip hadn’t loosened. “Can’t you see this is a rescue operation? I’m here for you. These people, my friends, they’re here for you, too.”

His arms were trembling.

She zeroed out the gravity beneath them. That was getting harder. She was using up the power stored in her apochondria fast.

He floated up, still holding her, but his grip had loosened. She forced her arms up hard, breaking his grip, then let the gravity flood back. She landed on her feet and took a few steps forward. Turning, she said, “Isn’t there any doubt in your mind? Any confusion? Any memories that don’t seem right?”

He shook his head violently. His voice was gruff. “No.”

He lashed out, throwing wild punches. He was careless and emotional. His technique was all over the place.

Time seemed to slow down. Whatever Hain had injected her with had increased her perceptions. She blocked and deflected with what almost seemed like leisurely movements.

“Why do you think Raub’s sister would be here? To help me?”

“Because you’re paying her. She’s a traitor, just like you.”

“No, Adam. Because she wants to right her brother’s wrongs.”

“Liar!”

Darcy suddenly realized what was in these crates all around her. Raub had stolen this ship from the Belastoise…

She allowed Adam to continue to push her back, but she steered herself toward a large stack of crates. She turned off the gravity beneath them and gave them a push. They tumbled over, spilling their contents: dark grey rock flecked with shiny particles and iron oxide. It was from Ulream. Magnetite ore. Adam got in a kick that connected with her backside, but it was worth it.

Adam growled with frustration as she went back to impeding his blows.

Behind her back, she slipped the last bola from her belt. When Adam threw his next punch, she locked the bola around his right arm and created a strong magnetic field around it. She concentrated hard, increasing the power of the field and its diameter.

Small pebbles began to rise from the floor, attracted to the field. They hit the bola around Adam’s arm, in small pings, but then he stumbled, and she used that movement to push him toward the piles of magnetite. Larger clumps clanged against his arm. The weight started to build up, pulling him down. Darcy pushed a pile toward him and it mounded around his arm and shoulder, effectively trapping him there. She let go of the magnetic field.

“Damn you!” He pulled and struggled but couldn’t break free of the heavy ore.

She crouched next to him and caught his left arm with her right as he reached out with fingers splayed to scratch at her face. “Adam, I will not hurt you. Ever. I won’t fight you. I can’t. I’ve been looking for you this whole time because I love you.”

“No. You…” His face crumpled.

She focused on him alone. She caressed his face. He tried to turn away, but there was nowhere to go. “I’m so sorry he hurt you. I’d give anything to go back and prevent that from happening.”

He heaved with sobs. “I don’t know what to believe.”

She wiped his tears away. “That’s okay. I’ll be patient. I’ll give you the space you need. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“How did he do this to me?”

“I don’t know, baby. He’s a monster.”

She heard a loud hiss like steam being released from a valve and jerked her head up, group perception through Miki and Do’Vela flooding back.

Falrau was lying in the middle of the floor in a pool of blue blood.

Nokk was sitting up and groaning by the door.

Farther back, a white cloud was spitting from a pipe in the ceiling, obscuring Darcy’s view of Hain and Raub. Hain was in trouble. Desperate trouble.

She got to her feet. “Stay here where you’re safe. It’s going to be okay.”

She had to believe he’d stay there, that she’d gotten through to him.

She sprinted to Falrau’s side and knelt. Falrau’s eyes fluttered open. “Darcy, the vasdasz is ferrous blood.” She laid back down, her eyes closing. She was still breathing, but shallowly. Through the kuboderans she could see that Falrau was not in immediate danger, as bad as it looked. She was putting all her energy into healing and regeneration.

Darcy got back up and headed for the white stuff. Hain needed her. As she got closer, she realized that as the substance hit the floor, it was turning into foam. It was very cold. She called up her light to warm her and waded through. It was slick as ice.

On the other side of the break she found Raub and Hain struggling up against a stack of crates. Raub was flushed with purple. He was trying to break her neck. She was barely holding him off.

Darcy knew what Falrau had been trying to tell her.

The vasdasz. A secondary blood system for a species on an iron-poor world, to give them extra energy, for fight or flight. The iron was hoarded in a special organ and used only when absolutely needed for survival.

Yunto’s words echoed in her mind: “Why use a sword when a needle will do?”

Darcy put out her arms and forced every bit of energy she had left into creating a sudden, violently powerful magnetic field against Raub’s back.

Small pieces of ore pelted her from behind as they were drawn toward the field.

Raub’s body shuddered. His arms fell away from Hain. He twisted and let out a deafening roar of defiance.

Darcy shook with the intensity of maintaining the field, screaming and falling to her knees as the last photons slipped away from her.

Raub’s roar dwindled to a whimper and he clawed at the air with limp fingers. He seemed to shrink in on himself.

A clump of red goo fell to the floor behind him in a wet splat. Raub slumped and fell over, his mouth slack, his eyes open and staring at nothing. Blue blood spread in a pool beneath him.

Darcy stared at Hain, panting.

Hain stared back, then flicked her eyes to Darcy’s left.

Falrau appeared at Darcy’s side, swaying.

Hain opened her mouth and said, “It’s finally over.”

Falrau unsheathed a wicked-looking blade from her thigh. Suddenly, she leapt forward, the blade high over her head. She brought it down with a growl and sliced through Raub’s neck. The blade clattered to the floor. She staggered back.

“Now it’s over,” she said.

48

Darcy stared at what Falrau had just done. She’d just made Raub’s end a certainty. He couldn’t come back from that.

Falrau staggered just outside of the cold foam, sat heavily on the floor, and sprawled on her back.

It was time to triage.

Darcy moved to hover over Falrau. “Are you going to be all right? You lost a lot of blood.”

Falrau fluttered her wrist limply. “It’s nothing that time won’t fix. You were correct, by the way. It wasn’t the prosthesis that made him a monster.”

Darcy moved to Hain. “Are you okay?”

The Ginnan’s mouth twisted. “Mostly. I severed the coolant line, hoping to slow him down, but I believe I succeeded in doing more damage to myself than to him. My feet seem to be frozen to the floor.”

Falrau started to rise to assist, but Darcy waved her off and looked around. She removed a lid from a crate and pushed the foam away from Hain’s lower extremities, then used her hands to wipe them off.

They were blackened. Darcy didn’t know anything about ginnan physiology, but that looked a lot like frostbite. It couldn’t be good.

More destruction in Raub’s wake.

Darcy pulled at her energy, but there was nothing left. “I used everything I had,” she said, her voice anguished. “I can’t warm you.”

“It’s too late for that,” Hain said, with an expression as blank as her voice.

“I’ll call for help,” Darcy said. “Parp will know what to do.” The moment she uttered those words, she felt Miki pass them to Parp. He’d been standing by, ready with teams, and they were already on their way.

She disconnected and spun in place, her focus returning to Adam.

He’d freed himself from the mound of glittering rock and stood in the doorway with Nokk. She got the chilling feeling that he was going to leave. He seemed much smaller and more fragile now than before. Indecision played over his youthful features.

“Adam?” Darcy said. She began to cross the floor to him.

“I can’t stay here.” He seemed intent on avoiding her gaze.

“You don’t have to. We can go anywhere now. Earth. Anywhere in the galaxy you want to go.” She kept moving toward him.

He held up a hand. “Stop. Just stop. I can’t do this. I can’t be what you want. Too much has happened.”

Darcy halted where she stood. The bottom fell out of her stomach. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want you safe.” Her voice broke at the end.

Adam looked down. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I hear you. I want to believe you. It’s too fucked up now.”

Panic made her muscles tight again. This was the outcome she’d always feared. She struggled to sound calm and reasonable. “I get that. I won’t pressure you. We can heal. Maybe we’ll never be who we were before. We could be something better, together or separate. It doesn’t matter to me. Just… let me keep you safe.”

He shook his head. “I get what you’re trying to say, but I can’t promise the same to you.”

She spread out her hands. “Adam, I have a fleet of ships. We don’t have to live on the same ship. I employ people who could help you get back on your feet.”

He raised his voice. “I don’t…” He shifted his weight and quieted a little. “I don’t want anyone else fucking around with my head. We’re not even speaking English. What the hell?”

Darcy gestured behind her, at the dead thing that was once Raub. “He did that to us.”

Adam looked like he was in so much pain. “Did you have to kill him, Darcy?”

Her chest ached. She didn’t falter. He had to hear the truth. “Yes. I did.”

His lower lip pushed up. “The Darcy I knew would never have done something like that. You would have done everything in your power to avoid it.”

“You’re right. I’ve changed.”

He raised his hands. “I can’t reconcile that.”

She took another step forward. “You don’t have to this very minute. You don’t know all the stuff I’ve been through. I haven’t told you everything yet. Give it time. Let me explain.”

His expression hardened. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t. I have to go.”

Darcy took another step. She wanted to throw up. How could this actually be happening, just like her nightmares? “Where will you go?”

He looked at Nokk. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nokk does.”

Nokk grunted.

She resorted to pleading. It was all she had left. “Adam, please don’t do this. I devoted my life to finding you for years.”

He half-turned, his words exploding from the side of his mouth. “You did a shitty job of it.”

She straightened, trying to preserve some dignity. “I will always be ready to talk, if you change your mind.”

He went to the door, Nokk right behind him.

She called after him. “If you won’t or can’t live with me, then I hope you find a way to live with yourself.”

He was gone.

49

It took nearly a full standard year, but Darcy finally found the right planet.

It was far out in the black, a place no one ever went. At least not yet.

But it was still just a few wormhole jumps away from wherever Darcy might be.

A new home, a permanent home, for those without one.

And they were building.

Darcy stood on a bluff with Hain, the wind whipping Darcy’s curls around her face. The sun was blindingly bright overhead. A dark round spot that Darcy knew was the Pelagic crossed the sky between some distant mountains. Hain was blissfully soaking up the light in her hover chair as they looked over the kuboderan settlement forming in the sea below as well as the village they were building for the Hymenoptera and former slaves of many species on the plain behind them.

The sky and sea were blue, but the land was in a perpetual state of autumn, as the foliage here reflected the lower-energy end of the spectrum and absorbed the higher end. At least, that was what Hain had explained.

“Have you decided on a name yet for the planet?” Darcy asked.

“Many ideas have been proposed, but no consensus has yet been reached,” Hain replied.

Darcy slid Hain a doubtful glance. “Well, you really need to have a name. I’m out there telling vulnerable people that I know of a beautiful place where they can live and be safe in a cooperative community, but, yeah, by the way, I don’t know what it’s called. Makes me look hella smart. What am I supposed to tell them?”

Hain looked at her owlishly. “Perhaps you should choose the name. That might actually stick.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I got nothing.”

“Try.”

She thought for a minute. “Fine. Here’s my contribution to this mess. Oikos. It means home in Greek, a language I studied a little bit back home on Earth.”

“Oikos,” Hain said slowly. “Oikos. I like it. It’s better than most of the other suggestions.”

Darcy shifted her stance, starting to feel antsy about all the standing around. She was ready to get back to work.

Nothing much had changed. Her crews were a little lighter, with so many people deciding to settle down there in the colony. But she was still out there fighting the good fight, freeing people in desperate situations and giving them a chance at a better life. It was the right thing to do. She was good at it. And was satisfying to consistently help so many people.

Falrau, Selpis, Nembrotha and Do’Vela were her core team on the Vermachten now. Falrau took up most of the slack left by Hain with regards to administration. There were no longer any questions about her loyalty and she had decided she had no desire to return to Loveka.

Darcy missed Hain when she was away from the colony, but she could see that the Ginnan was very happy there and doing a lot of good as the resident doctor for the colonists, a position that was very much needed. Accidents happened frequently on an untamed world. There were lots of different species of people settling here, all dealing with dangerous alien animals, bugs, and zoonotic diseases of various types. No one was better qualified.

Not yet, anyway. Darcy was planning to take a course in xenobiology in a few months. She’d hired a doctor for the fleet, but she needed to know for herself if medicine was still going to be her ultimate goal. She would have to see how that went. Things had changed. She was content with her life now, secure in her skin, but there was no harm in improving herself.

Darcy turned toward the village. “You all vote on that name and let me know ASAP.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Hain said, and directed her hover chair down the gentle slope. What was left of her legs were just two scarred stumps, but that didn’t slow her down in the slightest. If something got in her way, she just invented something new to work around it. “Have you heard from Adam?”

Darcy pulled her lower lip between her teeth. That was a painful question. At least Hain had waited to ask until they were alone. “No. Not a word.”

Some part of her wanted to keep tabs on him in an effort to protect him, but that sounded an awful lot like stalking. That wasn’t what he’d said he wanted. She had to trust that he’d be able to take care of himself. He needed time and she was giving it to him. She just hoped he was okay. She would never stop loving the man she knew he was at his core, though she knew it was unlikely they’d ever have a romantic relationship again. She would always care.

Maybe someday he’d come back. Maybe not. She hoped he would, but she would never again wish for things he couldn’t give her.

If she felt incomplete, that was her own fault. She had to make her own way now. She wasn’t in limbo anymore.

They went the rest of the way down in silence.

The fields surrounding the village were plowed and planted using the best equipment Darcy could find for the colonists. Small yellow seedlings dotted the black dirt in neat rows. A few hymenoptera delicately stepped around the tiny plants and used their pincers to root out any weeds, though that wasn’t really necessary. Darcy had bought machines to do that. When she’d asked about it, they’d said it was just something they enjoyed doing.

Darcy would never have called pulling weeds meditative, but to each their own.

She turned to Hain. “Are you still thinking about putting down roots here?”

Hain tilted her head this way and that, considering. “Figuratively, I have already done so. Literally, I am undecided. I’m looking into alternatives. I may yet wish to go back into space. The idea of being tied down in one spot is still repulsive to me.”

“I know that feeling,” Darcy said dryly.

“For now, I am very busy lengthening hymenoptera lives, and that is all I feel I should worry about. When that is done, I will reevaluate.”

Wahndis and Tesserae71 greeted them as they approached the village.

“We have an issue we wish to discuss with you, Mistress,” Wahndis clacked. “It’s about these animals Falrau brought. They’re… well… feistier than most domestic animals.”

“Those goatie things?” Darcy asked, shaking her head. “They completely destroyed a cargo hold on the Aku Mon.”

“That’s just it,” Tesserae71 chittered excitedly. “They’re destructive. And they bite. We can barely keep them contained. Should they get away from us, they could become an invasive species here. Without any natural predators, they might become the predators. We’re looking at a potential scourge.”

Wahndis waved a pincer around. “They’re not even edible. They’re only good for making thread. It’s very strong, high quality thread, but it’s only… thread.”

Darcy looked to the heavens and the ship she couldn’t see, where Falrau currently resided. “I’ll talk to her and see if we can find something more suitable.”

“Docile is the word we’re looking for,” Tesserae71 said.

Darcy nodded once. “Got it.”

Hain drove her hover chair right up to Wahndis and elevated it a bit so she was on the level with the tall female hymenoptera’s head. “Did you know that Darcy finally named our world? It’s called Oikos.”

Darcy huffed. “You are so high.”

Wahndis turned to Darcy. “What a delightful name. I’m wholeheartedly in favor.”

“I concur. Very apropos. What does it mean?” Tesserae71 asked.

“Home.”

The two hymenoptera chattered in unison, so Darcy could only pick out words here and there. “Perfect!” “Ideal.” “We must tell everyone.”

Wahndis tentatively stepped forward and handed Darcy a small piece of paper. Her mandible worked nervously. “I owe you so much—I feel the urge to give you something. To show you. And this world is so inspiring. It is just a small token…”

Darcy took the paper, her brow drawing together in confusion. The texture was thick and rough. It was probably handmade from materials gathered here. She turned it over in her hand and gasped. “Oh, Wahndis. It’s beautiful.”

“I haven’t much free time to create, but it brings me such joy.”

“You’re making art again,” Darcy breathed as she stared at the abstract representation of this new world. Flaming colors in spikes contrasted against swirls of blue and green. Land and sea in a sort of yin and yang configuration. Tears pricked at her eyes. “I love it.”

“It is Oikos,” Wahndis said.

“I can see that,” Darcy replied with a chuckle, swiping a tear from her cheek. “Thank you. I will cherish it.”

She looked up from staring at the painting to see Wahndis and Tesserae71 had already wandered away. She guessed that was their way of saying goodbye for now.

Hain seized that moment to zip off toward the hut she was using for her lab. She called out, “Good journey! Come back to us soon.”

No one liked long goodbyes.

Darcy tucked the small painting in the breast pocket of her jacket, next to her heart. In that moment it felt like the most valuable thing in her possession.

She made her way through the village, trying to look purposeful so people wouldn’t expect more than a wave. She’d been dirtside for a month. There’d been plenty of time for small talk during that time. She’d happily done plenty of that. But now she was ready to go.

She’d already said her goodbyes to the Kubodera. Ei’Joh, about half of her children, and a handful of other young kuboderans from the hidden sectilian enclave were building a life for themselves in a sheltered inlet below, learning how to live in a more natural environment. It was not an easy life for them. She checked in with them frequently to make sure they had everything they needed. Eventually, she hoped she would be able to give her working kuboderans vacations among them, or even allow them to work in partial-year shifts.

The balance of the Kubodera, including Caut, had decided to stay with the fleet on the Pelagic. Their ingenuity and bold nature were a welcome addition to her crews.

As she passed through the outskirts of the village, a pair of miremon twins were playing a noisy game that looked a lot like hopscotch. Suddenly, she realized they were shouting the word Oikos.

Someone dumped washing water outside their front door on the path and it was turning into mud. Darcy stepped around that so she wouldn’t get the interior of the tern dirty.

Finally, she reached the tern. Parp was sitting on a boulder with a stem in his mouth, tinkering with a small electronic component.

Darcy pointed at the device he held. “Is someone waiting for you to fix that? Because I’m ready to go.”

Parp stood. “No. I made a trade. They got the better end of the deal.”

Darcy walked up the ramp. “Good man.”

He tilted his head sheepishly. “I heard you finally named the planet.”

A smile curled on her lip. “Let’s get back to what we do.”

A Note from the Author’s Desk...

I hope you enjoyed this journey! Before you continue your expedition, allow me to take just a moment to explain how this unconventional series is set up.

The series was named Confluence for one very important reason. There are two story arcs in this six-book series that will converge in the final book, book 6.

- FLUENCY (Book 1) is Jane’s and the Speroancora crew’s story.

- REMANENCE (Book 2) continues that story.

- INHERITANCE (Book 3—formerly titled The Druid Gene) is the story of Darcy Eberhardt and the Vermachten crew.

- VALENCE (Book 4) continues Jane’s and the Speroancora crew’s story.

- VENGEANCE (Book 5) resumes Darcy’s and the Vermachten storyline.

- CONVERGENCE (Book 6—to be published in 2019) will bring both storylines together to conclude this series.

There is also a novelette available in this series called THE GROVE and various other short stories, some available as stand alone, and others within some excellent anthologies. You can find them by visiting my Amazon Author Page: Jennifer Foehner Wells.

About the Author

As a child growing up in rural Illinois, Jennifer Foehner Wells had the wild outdoors, a budding imagination, and books for company.

Her interest in science fiction was piqued early on when a family friend loaned her a collection of Ray Bradbury shorts. That was all it took to set her on a course toward a lifelong love of science and science fiction. She earned a degree in biology in 1995.

Jen’s first novel, Fluency, was a virally successful best seller. Her second novel, Remanence, was nominated for the Goodreads Choice Awards of 2016.

Jen currently lives in Pennsylvania with two boisterous boys, the geekiest literature professor on the planet (commonly referred to as Dr. Beard), three semi-crazed cats, and a five-pound Pekingese/Chihuahua mix that steals hearts and takes names.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on your favorite online site and tell your friends about it, both in person and via social media. Help other readers find it! Support the authors from whom you crave more stories.