CHAPTER 35

I haven’t slept.

Jael joins Dina, me, and Hit shortly before dawn. It goes without saying that we won’t retire until we’re all reunited. March still hasn’t been released, and I’m worried about him. He’s not secure enough yet to take this kind of stress. If he relapses, I don’t know what I’ll do. I didn’t even get to enjoy having him back.

In late morning, Tarn’s image comes up on the terminal, stern and uncompromising. I’ve played his message once, and I still can’t believe his recommendation. The last part is the corker.

“I repeat, don’t do anything. Allow the Ithtorians to do their jobs. Show them that we, as human beings, respect their methods. I have no doubt they will soon apprehend those responsible for the attack on Councilor Sharis, and they will respect your patience.”

Gah, patience. Not my strong suit.

If he wanted passivity, Tarn sent the wrong woman to Ithiss-Tor. Dammit, now I wish I hadn’t asked for his orders. This way, if I act otherwise, I’m disobeying his directive. Though it goes against every impulse, I tell myself I’m going to be good this time. No more going off half-cocked, doing what I think best.

I’m playing this crisis by the book, so if Tarn says stay, I stay. That’s not easy, however, because I can’t stop fretting. I wish Vel was here. Deep down, I know what he’ll say. Humans have almost no rights on Ithiss-Tor, so they can do damn well what they please, as far as we’re concerned. That’s what scares me.

It’s nearly nightfall, and I’ve lost two games of Charm by the time March appears. Tossing my cards aside, I go for him at a run. He has to be exhausted, but March catches me up in his arms and holds me to him, burying his face in my coarse curls. His heat is the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life, but it gets better.

March reached for me. We stand there like that for uncounted minutes, and nobody says a word.

“They like me for it,” March says, low. “Thank Mary, they have no proof.”

I step back, eyes wide. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugs, coming into my quarters. “Not so much. I’m a trained soldier with a history of violence. I’ve also killed for pay. To an outsider, I’m their guy. Now they just need to make the facts fit my profile.”

Jael scowls. “What you’re saying applies to me as well, mate. Why’d they cut me loose so fast?”

Despite myself, I smile at him. “You just don’t look like a criminal mastermind, pretty boy.”

The merc growls something at me, but Dina glares him to silence. We don’t have time to pander to Jael’s ego. Before it can become an issue, the door chimes again, and I answer it to find Vel standing there.

Excellent, we’re almost all present and accounted for now.

Except Constance. I’m afraid to contact the ship to see if she’s there. The Ithtorians may be able to translate the inquiry, then they’ll realize they’re missing a member of my team. That’s assuming they don’t have her now. I wish I knew if inaction was the best course, here. I know Tarn doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my PA, but I do.

In a reflex that’s become second nature, I greet Vel with a warm, affectionate wa, layered from the angle of my head to the fold of my fingers behind the slant of my forearm. This time I know exactly what I’m saying:

Brown bird welcomes white wave. Wander no more, dear traveler.

Vel pauses so long that I think I got it wrong. Then he returns the greeting with heartbreaking sincerity.

Brown bird honors white wave. The sea ever seeks the shore. Something tells me the chip is incapable of processing the nuances, but I can read between the lines. I’m pretty sure he’s telling me he feels at home with me, and I could never seek a higher compliment.

“You’re all done translating for them?” Hit makes it sound like he’s an enemy collaborator, so I affix a cool look on her.

I might like her for how happy she seems to make Dina, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her turn that tongue on Vel. “It would be worse if he refused to aid the Ithtorians. We have orders to cooperate as they request and otherwise stay put.”

Dina snorts. “Since when do you follow orders?”

Don’t let her rile you, dammit.

“Since I got us into so much trouble on the way here,” I say quietly. “What we’re doing is important, and I’ve got to trust that Tarn knows what he’s doing. It means disaster if we fail.”

Surprise registers in the mechanic’s jade eyes. “You really mean that.”

I nod. That seems to sober everyone in the room. Responsible Jax, who gives a damn? Call the gutter press; many of them were hoping to retire on my bad judgment. But there will be no more glimpses of my tits on the midnight bounce, no more private vids leaked, no more drunken table dancing. Over the past ten years, the universe has seen me do many amazing and scandalous things, but this just might be the most shocking.

“They have dossiers on all of us,” Vel adds. “Ehon did his best to coerce a confession out of March then and there. I have never seen anything quite like it.”

“There has to be some reason they’ve zeroed in on him,” Hit says.

Dina agrees. “It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

“Sitting around wondering about it won’t solve anything.” March strides toward the terminal, and I’m happy to see his take-charge attitude emerging. “I’ll call Doc aboard the ship, see if he can figure out some treatment their physicians may have missed. If we can save Sharis, it’ll look a helluva lot better for us.”

“Fantastic idea.” No wonder I love this man.

He loses himself in the conversation with Doc, which—if translated—will do much to exonerate us. I don’t think the Ithtorians will think us clever or devious enough to come up with such a convoluted plan to poison Sharis, then save him, establishing ourselves as heroes via our own misdeeds.

Jael and Hit share a significant look, and he asks, “Do you think they’ll let us go back to the ship? I’d like to get some gear just in case we have to defend you.”

I glance at Vel, who answers, “It is unlikely.”

The merc pushes to his feet. “Then I’ll do some scouting. I need to know every possible route they can take to come after you. Maybe I can also scrounge up some tech from here that can be useful.”

“We’ll come with you.” Hit stands also. “It’s not smart to wander around alone right now.”

Dina throws down her cards. “Agreed. Let’s see what we can do.”

Once they’ve gone, Vel catches my eye. I interpret his gesture as wanting privacy, even though March is the only one here, so I sidle toward the sleeping area.

“We must locate Constance,” he tells me, once we’re alone, relatively speaking.

It doesn’t strike me as strange that he and I should handle this extra crisis quietly. No reason to give everyone else more to fret about it—and he knows this world best.

“I completely agree. Jael told me she was working on the ship last night. Did the Ithtorians scoop her up from there?”

He spreads his claws in a human expression of puzzlement. “She was not among those taken for questioning.”

“The Ithtorians know about her,” I mutter. “Given time, they’ll realize she’s unaccounted for. That won’t look good . . . she’s my personal assistant. What’s she doing, I wonder? This kind of autonomy isn’t like her.”

Vel considers. “What was your last instruction to her?”

In a moment, the exact verbiage comes to me: If you can do some more work on the alliance advantages, I’d appreciate that very much. I groan aloud. Ah, Mary, no. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

“What?” Vel asks.

Yes, she would, a little voice says. She’s a helpful administrator PA, housed in an ambulatory casing.

She’d do whatever it took to complete her assignment.

“I told her to research the advantages of the alliance further.”

Vel tracks my thought process like a, well, bounty hunter. “She may have determined she needed more data on my people before she could offer concrete value.”

“So she’s doing field research,” I conclude. “Can we look for her?”

If I get her back intact, I’m going to be more careful how I phrase things. Though she seems so human and capable, she’s more like a small child in terms of the literal way she looks at the world. She wouldn’t have considered the ramifications of what she was doing, only the most efficient method of carrying out my instructions.

Vel shakes his head. “Not easily. If she has managed to pass undetected this long, perhaps we underestimate her abilities. I hope she has not come to harm, but it will certainly arouse suspicion if we go in search of her now. We cannot be caught attempting to leave our housing complex, so for now, we must maintain a holding pattern, as Tarn instructed.”

I hate hearing that.

Three days pass, the Bugs pursuing their painstaking investigation. They won’t tell me anything when I inquire. We’re confined to our wing of the annex as best as I can tell “for your own safety.” Apparently it’s getting ugly out there, and I suspect it won’t improve as long as we remain in hiding. To my mind, doing so reeks of cowardice and guilt.

Sharis clings to life stubbornly, and that’s my sole comfort. If he dies, events escalate from nasty to irreparable. Doc hasn’t come to any conclusions, nothing the Bugs don’t already know, but he has a lead on a regenerative nanoprotein string that might be able to do something about the internal burns Sharis suffered when he ingested the food laced with citric acid.

We live in hope that Doc will be able to reverse some of the damage. A very chilly Councilor Karom calls on the morning of the fourth day. He doesn’t bother with a wa over the vid.

“Please inform your pet,” he addresses Vel, “that Sharis will never again enjoy full health, even if he survives. I am not alone in blaming your delegation. It is only a matter of time before one of you is arrested. You might find it wise to flee before we discover which of you vermin did this.”

Yeah, running away would solve all our problems. I disconnect the call without bothering with any of the outward trappings of diplomacy either. Maybe we should leave. I don’t think the alliance is going to happen now. Nothing I do hereafter will make a difference. Despair weighs on me, knowing how bad it is in the star lanes already.

Raiders, Farwan loyalists, Syndicate skyjackers, and the Morgut rampaging unchecked—Ramona will love this. People will queue up to pay her protection money. The thought of her satisfaction absolutely galls me.

And we still haven’t heard from Constance. She’s not just my PA; she’s also my friend. Didn’t she try to comfort me after the Grand Administrator drugged me, and I dreamed about Kai? When I woke, it felt like I had lost him all over again. Constance was kind, and she touched my hair that night. I haven’t seen her since.

Jael told me she was fine, so I didn’t worry until the next day. And then I listened when Vel said it wouldn’t be prudent to search for her. But if she were human, I wouldn’t have listened. I’d have searched before now. Guilt becomes my constant companion, and not even March’s arms around me can dispel the gloom that’s fallen.

On day five of our polite incarceration, things go from bad to worse.

HARD Times Hit Dobrinya Asteroid

[ONN: byline Lili Lightman] Fighting broke out today on a mining colony hard hit by the food shortage.

Gaunt-faced men wrestled for the last packet of paste while starving children wept. The riots continued until volunteers put themselves in peril to pacify the situation. There were ten serious injuries and one fatality by the time the dust settled.

Dobrinya asteroid is harsh on its settlers, one of the most extreme environments that allows for human habitation, for it is impossible to step outside without a pressure suit. This small outpost makes its living from the uranium mines. There’s big profit for those willing to put up with living so far from civilization, but their survival relies on regular trade vessels to make the difference between credit-rich and provision-poor. These people cannot farm outdoors. They have a finite amount of space upon which to subsist, and as miners marry and have children, the population is increasing.

“Supply ships don’t run as regular as they used to,” mine manager Olen Brown said. “It doesn’t matter how many credits you have in your account. If the merchantmen can’t make it through, then we don’t get organic for the kitchen-mate. By the time the last ship got here, we were down to almost nothing and trying to jury-rig the recyclers to purify our waste.”

Pirates have plagued this particular trade route, preying on both freighters carrying supplies and those loaded with ore slated for processing. The more daring raiders sell the stolen goods to the Dobrinya miners at a ridiculously inflated price. Colonies everywhere are feeling the pinch of a disordered galactic economy.

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” longtime resident Basil Knapp said. “Recently, we bought from the pirates, which only encourages them. But it was that or starve. Dobrinya has been good to me, but if things don’t take a turn for the better, I may need to move somewhere safer. Problem is, I don’t know where that would be.”

There are a few alternatives they can explore. Jere Bowen, local physician, proposed the following:

“Since we can’t rely on regular shipments anymore, we need to work on becoming self-sufficient. Laying in a hydroponics garden would be the most practical solution. Unfortunately, we didn’t foresee this, and we don’t have all the components. That means we need to order supplies . . . and, well, you see the problem there.”

It’s definitely a volatile situation. Supply store clerk Sadie Reid asked, “Why is it that nobody is doing anything about this? I feel like we’ve been totally abandoned out here. Doesn’t anyone care whether we live or die? After they murdered Miriam Jocasta, I never thought I’d say this, but . . . I miss Farwan. They were bastards, but at least they kept us safe.”

Bolstered by overpriced supplies, things have calmed on Dobrinya, but the population is sadder and more subdued in the aftermath. During this hardship, they can only cling to one another in the face of a government that seems to have forsaken them.