“So it would seem.” She sensed no dissembling in his face and posture—and his gratitude seemed genuine—but she still couldn’t afford to trust him. She knew too little to turn her back on him just yet.
She moved over to check on the Eckandi and the Surin, her movements within the cramped lander awkward and clumsy. A quick look confirmed her suspicions.
“Good. They won’t wake for a while.” She returned to her own couch and looked across at Cane. “I think it’s time we talked.”
“Whatever you want, Commander.”
“How much do you actually remember?”
“I told you: I woke up a few days ago on the ship with no memory beyond my name. Since then, apart from a few visits from the ship’s science officer, I’ve been left alone.”
“Do you know that you were picked up in a life-support capsule?”
“I was told that much, but little else.”
“They didn’t tell you how long you’d been drifting?”
“I did overhear something to the effect that it might have been a while,” he said. “But nothing was officially mentioned.”
“I don’t suppose you happened to ‘overhear’ anything else, did you?”
“Little. Why?”
“Because the science officer’s report was destroyed with the Midnight.” Along with any records of the conversation that had led him to her, she added to herself, rubbing a hand across tired eyes. The rush of adrenaline she had experienced over the last few hours had left her feeling more than a little exhausted. “Your recollections are all we have left to go on, I’m afraid.”
Cane raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know I was picked up near an anchor point leading here. Not by chance, either: the Midnight apparently detected a distress signal. Where the signal came from, however, is a mystery; the capsule had no transmitter, and the signal vanished once they picked up the capsule on scan.” He shrugged. “I can’t explain it, and neither could the science officer.”
Roche nodded, absorbing the information. “What else?”
“Not much. He wanted to know more about the way the capsule worked. I gather it contained a lot of equipment not normally required for any sort of emergency coma.”
“Such as?”
“Biofeedback systems, I believe, but I really don’t know.” He shook his head. “I have no memory at all of any time before the capsule. If there was any.”
Roche frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” A smile touched his lips but was gone a moment later. “It sometimes feels as though I was born inside the capsule,”
“If you were, then you’ve grown up quick; you can talk, think, and move like an adult.” And a very adept one at that, she thought to herself. She could see his potential in the way he held himself: constantly primed, ready to act, and yet, paradoxically, always at ease with his situation. The way he had carried himself in the lander bay had been more than impressive. An army of soldiers like Cane would be hard to stop. “Perhaps you were a combat soldier?”
“Maybe,” he said, but without conviction.
A groan from behind them made them both turn. Roche instinctively reached for her pistol, then saw it was the old Eckandi, struggling in his chair. He was little more than semiconscious, and she noted with approval that Cane had locked the harness tight—something she should have done herself. Still, she kept the pistol ready. If the Surin had been a reave, who knew what the Eckandi—the Surin had called him “Veden,” she recalled—would be.
Veden shook his head, opened his eyes. Taking in the interior of the lander with one quick glance, he turned to face Roche and Cane.
“Where—?” His voice was thin and accented faintly, but clear. His wide-pupiled eyes were startled, flitting between Roche and Cane, their movement beneath the fine milky film that was peculiar to the Eckandar Caste causing Roche some discomfort. “Where am I?”
“On the lander,” Roche replied. “Heading for Sciacca’s World.”
“The Midnight?” Without waiting for a reply he turned to the unconscious Surin strapped into the seat beside him. “Maii?” He made to move, then realized that he too was restrained. “What have you done to her?”
Roche watched with interest the concern on the Eckandi’s face. “She’ll be okay.”
“You know she’s a reave?” Roche nodded; Veden shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you managed to get past her.”
Nor can I, Roche admitted to herself, but said: “We surprised you in the lander bay. Do you remember that?”
“I remember you shot me.” Thin but distinct muscles tightened around the Eckandi’s eyes. “I remember that much.”
“You fired upon us first,” said Cane.
“What else was I supposed to do? We had to get out of there. The ship was about to blow.”
“How could you have known that?” Using a hand-grip, Roche pulled herself forward slightly. “And how did you escape from your cell?”
“Maii—” He hesitated, glancing again at the Surin. “She was monitoring the guards when the Dato hit. She got one of them to open the cell and let us go. It’s considerably easier to manipulate people when they are panicked or confused, you see, so the attack on the Midnight was fortuitous in a way.” He shifted beneath his restraints. “After that it was a simple matter of getting to the lander bay. I’ve flown landers like this all my life; launching wouldn’t have been a problem.” He seemed about to say something further, but decided against it and fell silent.
“Sounds a bit too easy,” said Roche doubtfully. “If it was that simple to escape, then why didn’t you do it sooner? I mean, surely there would have been other times in other systems when the guards were vulnerable. Why wait until we’re at Sciacca’s World?”
“That’s none of your business.” His milky glare fixed on Roche for a few seconds before he turned away and faced Cane. “Who’s he, anyway?”
Cane met Veden’s unexpected hostility with a broad grin, the lights from the lander’s displays flashing in his steady eyes. “That would appear to be none of your business,” he said.
Veden’s gaze returned to Roche. “He’s working undercover for the Armada—for COE Intelligence—is that it? I don’t remember seeing him in the brig.” Roche ignored the question. “Whoever he is, he moves like one of those damned jarapines from Proebis-12.”
<Morgan.> The Box’s voice sounded in her mind.
<Yes, Box?> She was careful to subvocalize in front of the Eckandi.
<There is an Eckandi named Makil Veden listed on the Midnight’s freight transcript.>
<What was his charge?>
<Code violation and gross misconduct. Apparently he trod quite heavily on someone’s toes—someone in the Commerce Artel, I would guess, given that he used to work for them. Death sentence commuted to transportation.>
<Any mention of the Surin?>
<Conspirator. Same charges.>
<Thanks, Box.> She returned her attention to Veden, regarding the Eckandi silently for a few moments before speaking. “So,” she said, “was it fraud, or outright robbery?”
His eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The code violation. You must be more stupid than you look to mess with the Commerce Artel.”
“If you say so, Commander.” He dismissed her accusation with a flick of his head. If he was surprised by her knowledge of his history, he showed no sign of it. There was more than just a hint of contempt in his crooked smile. “Who am I to question an Armada officer?”
Their eyes locked for thirty seconds or so before he finally looked away, his smile fading beneath a sigh. “At least we’re alive,” he said, closing his eyes and lying back into the chair. “That’s all that matters right now.”
“For you, maybe,” Roche muttered. “What matters to me is that I’m stuck with you for at least another five hours.” She watched the Eckandi closely for a reaction, but there was none. With the typical arrogance of his Caste, he had decided to te
rminate the conversation. For all intents and purposes, he had totally closed himself off, and Roche knew that further questioning would be useless for the time being. Maybe, she hoped, things would change when the Surin awoke.
To Cane she said: “I’m going to check out the lander, see what we’ve got in the way of supplies. Can I rely on you to keep an eye on him?”
Cane nodded. “Of course.”
“If the reave tries anything when she wakes, knock her out again.” The words elicited no response from the supine Eckandi. “We’re some way from safety, and I don’t want anything else to go wrong.”
“Understood.” He folded his arms as she left the cockpit. When she returned five minutes later to check on him, he hadn’t moved a muscle. A perfect sentry, she thought. Almost too good, in fact.
<Box?>
<Yes, Morgan.>
<Watch him via the cabin monitors. If he makes the slightest move, let me knows
<You’re a trusting soul, aren’t you?>
She didn’t smile as she returned to the storeroom. “That’s a luxury I can’t afford at the moment,” she said, more to herself than to the Box.
* * *
Four hours later, a voice roused her from a deep slumber she couldn’t remember entering:
<Wakey-wakey, Morgan.>
Her head jerked up, and the sudden movement sent her drifting across the room. More by chance than anything else, she managed to catch hold of a stanchion and bring herself to a halt. A rush of panic subsided when her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her surroundings and she realized where she was: the lander’s storeroom. She had come in to check on what equipment was available to them, but the low lights coupled with her exhaustion had seduced her into sleep. Not, however, before she had ascertained how little in the way of supplies they actually had: two medical kits, three basic communicators, six survival suits, and enough food to last them two days—five if rationed severely. The only weapons on board were Veden’s laser and her own pistol.
<Morgan.> The voice was sterner this time, cutting through her tired thoughts.
Roche rubbed her eyes, shook her head. “Yes, Box,” she said. “I’m awake. How long have I been out?”
<Too long. I would have let you sleep longer, but there has been a development.>
“Oh? What?”
<The Surin has regained consciousness.>
She shook her head one last time to clear it of the residue of sleep, then pushed herself toward the door. It slid aside with a hiss, and she slipped out into the narrow accessway. The only other room in the lander, a privacy and waste cubicle opposite the storeroom, was sealed, occupied. Sparing it but a glance, she brushed past it and into the cockpit.
Cane had moved to a position by the main entrance. The Surin lay with her back to Roche, still strapped into the central couch. The only movement as she entered the room came from Cane’s eyes, which glanced at her before returning to the reave.
<I can detect peripheral vision also.> The reave’s voice echoed deep in Roche’s head, although the statement was intended for Cane. It was a strange and intimate kind of intrusion—almost a rape—and felt as though someone was using her brain to think their own thoughts. It was very different from the Box’s clear input, and Roche detested it. <I admire your perseverance,> continued the Surin. <But I knew Roche was awake the moment she did. I could have taken her then, if I’d wanted to. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? That I didn’t?>
Roche watched from the other side of the cockpit as Cane kept his eyes still. Nothing was spoken aloud, but a conversation took place nonetheless.
<I’m trying to tell you that you can trust me!> The Surin’s tone was desperate. She was clearly uncomfortable in her restraints. <I know I can’t hurt you. But, Roche— Yes, I am aware of what would happen if I tried. I’m just saying that I could. Why don’t you believe me?>
Roche cleared her throat pointedly. “Where’s Veden?” The couch next to the Surin was empty.
<He’s in the privacy cabin,> replied the reave. <And stop thinking of me as just a Surin. My name is Maii.>
Roche forced herself to reply civilly. “Thank you,” she said, “Maii.”
<You don’t trust me, do you?>
“Should I?”
<You tell her, Cane.>
“She’s telling the truth.” Cane finally wrenched his eyes away from the Surin’s. “He’s locked in the cubicle. The couch was too uncomfortable for an old man to be confined to for such a long period of time.”
Roche nodded. It seemed reasonable, she supposed. “What about you two?”
Cane shrugged noncommittally.
<He’s trying to resist me,> explained the Surin. <He doesn’t like me using his eyes, and keeps them focused on my face to stop me seeing anything. But it isn’t working.> Roche sensed amusement as the girl added: <It’s okay now, Cane. You can relax. I’m not using them anymore.>
Roche suppressed a shudder, and barely caught herself from using her training to keep the girl out of her head, if she could at all. There was no point. If the reave noticed her revulsion, she didn’t mention it.
“Maii, I want you to tell me about Veden. Who is he, and what were you doing with him?”
<Cane can answer that,> said the girl. <I’ve already told him.>
Roche turned to Cane, who shrugged. “She says they’re not really transportees—or rather, they are, but not criminals.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
<I know, but that’s all I can say.> The Surin’s narrow tongue licked at the fine hair around her black lips. <You’ll have to ask Veden.>
“I did,” said Cane.
Roche’s eyes flicked from Maii to Cane. “And what did he say?”
“Nothing.”
Something rippled gently through Roche’s mind—Maii was chuckling. <I’m not a slave, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Veden wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.>
“No, I meant...” She shook her head. “You know what I meant.”
The girl looked annoyed for an instant, the flash of emotion the first true vitality Roche had seen in the Surin’s face. <I don’t know everything about you. Just the surface thoughts; the obvious details. I could read deeper, of course, if you’d let me.>
“That didn’t stop you before,” said Roche. “Back in the lander bay.” The experience was still vivid in her mind.
<You caught me by surprise. One moment Veden was going to seal the airlock, and the next he’d been knocked out. I panicked.> The girl looked genuinely sad for a moment. <Contrary to popular belief, Commander, we epsense adepts do have some moral standards.>
Roche snorted. “Yeah, they just aren’t very high.”
<That isn’t fair,> said the Surin. <You make it sound as though what happened back on the Midnight is something I enjoy doing. But I don’t. It happens to be very draining.>
“Not to mention immoral.”
<And a pistol isn’t?>
Roche mentally conceded the point, and wondered if she was being more than a little paranoid. She was imagining dark motives behind everything the reave said and did—sophisticated deceits that only an adult would be capable of. The ritually blinded Surin, for all her psychic talents, was still little more than a child. Petulant sometimes, perhaps even vicious, but a child nonetheless.
What the Surin had been doing in the company of Makil Veden remained a concern, however. To Roche, the long- faced and grey-skinned Eckandi made an odd figure beside the tawny Surin, with her wide jaws and lightly fuzzed complexion. Obviously their relationship went back a lot farther than the Midnight, perhaps even as far as the Surin’s birth. Certainly Maii seemed to regard Veden in a respectful light; maybe the Eckandi had adopted her as his surrogate daughter.
“You’re very young,” said Roche. “Far younger than any other reave I’ve met.”
Maii’s face closed instantly. <I developed young. Let’s leave it at that, okay?>
“Hey, I was just—”
<I’m sorry to interrupt, Morgan.>
Roche turned away from the Surin. <What is it, Box?>
<Good and bad news, I’m afraid.>
She groaned inwardly. <Let’s have it.>
<First: despite my precautions, we have been located. The undamaged raider has changed course to pursue us. They clearly intend a leapfrog maneuver—overtaking us and launching interceptors before we reach perihelion—which seems sensible under the circumstances.>
<Okay.> She braced herself against the nearest couch. <The good news?>
<That was it.>
<Come on, Box. This is no time for—>
<I am being completely serious, Morgan. Relatively speaking, that was the good news: they haven’t decided to destroy us outright. The bad news is that the local authority in orbit around Sciacca’s World has made no move to avenge the destruction of the Midnight. Furthermore, I have detected coded transmissions between the Dato Marauder and Kanaga Station.>
Roche frowned, trying to comprehend what the Box was implying. <The Dato wouldn’t take over a COE Communications Base, would they? That’d be tantamount to a declaration of war.>
<You misunderstand me, Morgan. Ask yourself why these transmissions are coded in the first place.>
Even as the Box posed the question, the answer had formed in her own mind. <Because neither party wants what they have to say to go public. A strictly private exchange.>
<Precisely. Now consider: four ships from the Dato Bloc attacked and destroyed an Armada frigate within a planetary system under the nominal control—or at least the scrutiny—of the Commonwealth. How could they hope to execute such an attack and get away with it, camouflaged or not? The repercussions would be severe.>
<I don’t like the sound of this, Box.>
<It is decidedly unpleasant. I have recorded the times each transmission took place; you may need the detail later. For now, it is sufficient that you know that the command on Kanaga Station is, to some degree at least, corrupt.>