“That would piss off both Tahn and the Coalition.”
“You’re my priority, Ash.” He turned her around so they were face-to-face. “I love you.”
Her mouth bent in a little smile. “So you’re okay with me going then?”
“You’re already working on a way to circumvent me, so I might as well keep my eyes on you.”
She laughed. The sound cracked the shell of worry and remorse that had been encasing her. She must have noticed it because she immediately clammed back up. “Hauch…”
“I know.” He held her tighter. “You tried. You did everything you could—”
“I failed. And he was on Glory because of me. Scius took him because of me. I should have—”
“Stop.” He gripped her shoulders hard. “Don’t play back your decisions. You killed the son of a bitch who killed him, the man who terrorized a planet, tortured people, corrupted governments. You’ve protected the Coalition, saved countless lives including the minister prime’s. You single-handedly uncovered a conspiracy that has plagued the KU for centuries. You are doing good, Ash.”
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and wouldn’t meet his gaze. It killed him, seeing her in pain.
He kissed her temple, then tapped off the water.
“Not single-handedly,” she said quietly.
“What?”
Her eyes were brighter now. “I’m not single-handedly uncovering a conspiracy.”
He smiled. “No. You’re not alone.”
He reached outside the shower for a towel, then wrapped the plush material around her.
She leaned into him, closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
He hugged her tight, then escorted her to their bed.
26
Ash propped her feet on a low gaming table and swiped through Tahn’s CAWAA—the Catalog of Available Weapons, Armor, and Accessories. She tried to focus on preparing for the worst when her mind was distracted by the movements of every telepath on the ship.
They’d exited the time-bend thirty minutes ago and should be exiting the tachyon capsule within the hour. After that, the plan was to board one of Tahn’s transports and cruise six hours to Caruth. Ash couldn’t wait to get away from this mental hell.
And she couldn’t wait to have a few hours alone with Rykus.
She smiled to herself. She’d been pushing her fail-safe to the edge of his control for the past three days. He was being a Javerian gentleman, soldiering through temptation, conscious of her injuries and the very real possibility that, even if there weren’t vids in their quarters, they were surrounded by telepaths who might sense what they were doing. Ash didn’t mind a little voyeurism every now and then, but Rykus had manners and standards and a sense of propriety.
Ash gave herself a little mental shake and refocused on the CAWAA. Cas had said Rykus’s Covar would be returned to him, but Ash’s weapons had been confiscated by Scius’s people. Besides, she wouldn’t mind trying out a few new toys. Tahn somehow had access to weapons Ash hadn’t gotten her hands on yet. It was an impressive inventory, containing some of the most highly regulated guns and equipment in the KU. She had every intention of hanging on to what she took when she was finished with this assignment.
Or favor. Or side job. Whatever the hell it was.
She breathed through the tightness in her chest until the loyalty training loosened its hold. It didn’t like the idea of doing anything for Tahn, but she’d deal with that problem later. Now she needed to focus on arming herself.
Rykus cursed.
Ash looked up. “Problem?”
He sat at a console on the other side of the comm-lounge under the supervision of a telepath. Another one of Tahn’s people watched from beside the door. Both had muted their abilities—their presences weren’t banging against her consciousness—but Ash was getting better at noticing their faint mental glow.
“I can’t get a meeting until tomorrow evening,” Rykus said. “And even then, only with Keen and Javko.” He swiveled his chair to face her. “Arek and Rohn are loyalty training this week.”
Ash closed her eyes. Of course they were. It would be too easy to detain Rohn without a group of brainwashed anomalies at his back.
“I’ll have to go on base,” Rykus said.
“They won’t let you go in armed. They probably won’t let me go in at all.” They’d planned to meet the instructors at the Melting Star, a bar a few kilometers from the base. It wouldn’t be crowded in the afternoon, and it wouldn’t be an unusual location. Rohn shouldn’t balk at meeting there.
“I know.” He ran a hand over his face, then looked at her. “I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind and let me do this on my own?”
“Detain a telepath who happens to be an instructor of Caruth with a pack of loyalty-trained anomalies at his side? Nope.”
He gave her a grim smile. “Then we have to get a warrant.”
That was the debate they’d had with Tahn last night. Rykus wanted to follow rules and procedures, which meant presenting a case for detainment to a judge before taking Rohn into custody. Tahn had pointed out how much time that would take and how many people it would add to the growing list of individuals who knew about telepathy. But Tahn also didn’t want the rules followed because he wanted Rohn and Valt brought to his ship, not sent to a Coalition prison.
Ash just wanted both of them alone long enough for her to beat the ever-living truth out of them.
She made a few selections on the CAWAA—a nonlethal Syra60 and a Berick 910 pistol—then set aside the borrowed comm-cuff. “I can get us on base.”
Her fail-safe’s expression turned unreadable.
Ash crossed her legs and waited for him to ask. It took a while—he really didn’t want to know—and Ash had to work hard to keep a grin from her face.
Finally Rykus asked, “How—?”
The lounge door opened. Tahn entered, followed by Cas.
“We’ve departed the capsule,” Tahn said. “Time to make your way to the transport.”
Rykus stood. “Rohn is loyalty training this week.”
“So I’ve heard,” Tahn said. “Let’s get you down there before he has his whole class brainwashed.” He turned to Ash. “You’ve made your weapon selections?”
Ash glanced at the two telepaths who had been standing guard. Neither one of them had moved enough to transmit a digital message to Tahn, and they had been muted until a few seconds ago. Was that when one of them informed Tahn about the loyalty training? Or had he plucked it from hers or Rykus’s minds?
She pushed to her feet.
“A few,” she answered.
“Good. They’ll be delivered to the transport. Cas.” Tahn waved his second-in-command forward. “You will be needing these.”
Cas passed a comm-cuff to Ash and to Rykus. As soon as Ash wrapped her fingers around it, the weight felt off.
She flipped it over.
Damn.
“They will be removed when you return with Rohn and Valt,” Tahn said.
Rykus tried to hand his back. “They won’t let us on base wearing these.”
“You will find a way. Put them on.”
It wasn’t that big a surprise, Tahn wanting to keep track of them. But it was an inconvenience. The cuffs wouldn’t unlock without an encryption key, and they would transmit their locations. With time and the right equipment, Ash could get them off, but those were two things they didn’t have at the moment.
“It won’t be a problem.” Ash fastened the cuff around her wrist. Rykus shot her a look but did the same.
“Fantastic,” Tahn said. “Let’s go.”
He led the way out of the lounge.
Ash added to her mental map of the ship. On Caruth, the anomalies memorized the layouts of hundreds of vessels from around the KU. Most designs were standard with a few tweaks here and there. Ash could usually identify where one was built by the location of certain amenities. The Athmarians, for example, were usually designed by female engineers. Their
ships included multiple restrooms on every level. In contrast, the Danelans were known for their culinary arts. Even their warships had fully equipped kitchens. Every culture had some kind of signature in their ship designs. Tahn’s ship, however, didn’t.
That meant it was either adopted from a model Ash hadn’t studied, or it was designed completely from scratch. Probably the latter since he undoubtedly had the money for it.
“There’s something you need to know before you encounter Rohn and Valt,” Tahn said, turning down a corridor that should lead them toward the docking bay. “They will try to glimpse your thoughts. Don’t let them.”
“Have any tips on how to prevent that?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
“A few.” There was a smile in Tahn’s voice. “The main thing to remember is not to try to shut off your mind. It will wander, most likely to the very thing you don’t want anyone to pluck from your head. Instead, fill it with something else. Naked women tend to work well.”
She glanced at Tahn.
He lifted a shoulder. “Or men. Or both. Whichever is your preference.”
“That’s it?” she asked.
“For the most part,” Tahn said. “It sounds simple, but human minds are impressionable. All it takes is a casual reference, and a subject jumps into your head. Some people have tried repeating a mantra to keep their secrets, but those are just words. Most of what we pick up from individuals is in images. It’s the interpretation of those images that takes finesse, that makes one telepath superior to another. For example, Commander Rykus often sees your cold, broken body. That could mean he wants to kill you. It could also mean he fears your death.”
Guilt twinged through her. Rykus walked slightly behind and to her left. He was a steady, comforting presence in the middle of the sea of minds, but she hadn’t missed the fact that he’d positioned himself between her and the two silent guards. He kept relatively close to Cas as well. If things turned hostile, he was in the perfect position to shield Ash with his body.
She met his gaze briefly before facing forward again. “Frequently it’s both.”
Tahn chuckled. “I imagine so. Nevertheless, all the images that pass through a person’s mind can have multiple interpretations, and we don’t always get the complete picture. We might see an open door. An empty glass of wine. A docking transport. A random memory from a childhood. It’s like interpreting a dream. What does it all mean?”
“And you’re a great interpreter, I presume,” she said.
“One of the best.” They stepped into the docking bay and proceeded toward the transport that had brought them from Glory. “Valt must be adept as well to be able to manipulate you as he did. You were engaged.”
She pressed her lips together. The only thing she wanted to remember about Valt was the person he’d been when he’d forced his way onto her team’s shuttle and killed the others one at a time. That was who he was, not the lackadaisical adventurer who knew exactly how close he could get without her shoving him away. He’d walked the line between friend and lover so perfectly she should have sensed something was wrong.
“Yes,” Cas said. “You should have.”
Ash stopped and turned. “Please. Continue. I’d love to hear all those thoughts you’ve been holding back.”
“Cas,” Tahn warned.
“It’s your fault,” the woman bit out. “You let him into your head and your bed. You led him to your ship and invited him on board. You, one of the legendary anomalies of Caruth with all your multibillion credits worth of training, didn’t use your skills to attempt to stop him. You let Trevast die.”
Rykus stepped close, put his hand on her lower back, and tried to press her forward. She planted her feet wide and pushed him away.
“Don’t do this,” Rykus said. “We’re almost off this ship.”
“You were the only survivor.” Cas advanced. “If it wasn’t your fault, you would be dead too.”
Ash’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“You are weak,” Cas continued. “You are a coward.”
“We didn’t know what we were dealing with.” The edges of her vision went black. All she saw was Cas. All she could think about was taking the woman down.
“Trevast should have killed you.”
“He should have told us what he was!” Ash screamed, something inside her snapping.
“He was my brother!” Cas shoved her.
She might as well have punched her in the gut. The breath whooshed out of Ash. She wanted to double over.
Cas had lost her brother. Lydia had lost her husband. Grant, his father. Her other teammates had families too.
“And Trevast was my cousin,” Tahn put in lightly, “but let’s not fret over details. Take a walk, Cas.”
“She should—”
“Now.” Menace saturated Tahn’s tone. It was the first time he’d sounded truly dangerous.
Ash’s fingernails dug into her palms. She tried to will her hands to relax.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” Tahn quipped after Cas left, “but not unexpected. You project guilt like a sun fires off light. When you were unconscious, your mind filled with all the things you could have done to stop Valt. Cas needs someone to blame for his death, and you’ve shown her all the possible ways it could be your fault.”
“I don’t need this from you,” she whispered.
“Need what?” Tahn asked. “The truth? Some sympathy?”
“Any of it.” She turned her back on him and strode to the transport’s open door. No one stopped her, not even Rykus, whose concern radiated through the docking bay.
He said something to Tahn.
Ash stepped inside and went to the cockpit. Their destination was already entered into the nav system. Even though it was just an image rotating on the transport’s small screen, Caruth felt huge and foreboding, like the Coalition had scanned through its files of habitable planets and chosen the one that looked the most sinister. It was striped in shades of black and green with wisps of gray that followed the current trade winds.
She glanced at the data scrolling beside the image. It listed climate information, vaccination advisories, local time zones, and a suggested spaceport for quickest entry. Ash bypassed the one it selected and redirected them to Arcadis, the nearest ’port to the anomaly training facility.
A wave of nausea made her rest both hands on the console. Caruth brought back memories of the medical ward and the psych-mask and the twisted, nightmarish realities it had etched too vividly into her brain. She’d been through the loyalty training twice now. She was beginning to feel like a lab experiment, unstable and volatile.
“Her weapons,” she heard Tahn say from the transport’s cabin. “It’s probably best she not have them until you depart.”
“Is she vulnerable to Valt?” Rykus asked.
“I could check.”
“No,” Ash said, straightening but not turning.
“Without checking, I can’t guarantee he won’t be able to control you. It’s an unfortunate weakness of being an anomaly.”
“Every anomaly is susceptible?” Rykus asked.
“With prolonged exposure and an at-ease mind, yes. But it’s not a simple thing. Not every telepath could do it, and the way Valt silenced her… I haven’t seen that before. I would be concerned that he still has pathways he can follow.”
“He won’t be alive long enough to do anything,” Ash said.
Footsteps scraped across the metal floor, stopping a couple of meters behind her. “I will forgive you if Valt does not make it here alive. The same is not true for Rohn. You will bring him to me, and you should reconsider my offer.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Your offer?”
“To erase the loyalty training. Then you won’t be tempted to defy me. You won’t be enslaved to the Coalition and to Commander Rykus. And his conscience will be clear. Your life will be yours again, and you will know every decision you make is your choice, uninfluenced by the hand of a government that d
oesn’t trust you. And then”—the edges of his eyes crinkled—“you can come work for me.”
“Pretty words,” she said. “The answer is still no. It will always be no.”
Tahn shrugged. “We will see. Good luck, Ash. Commander. I expect your return within twenty hours.”
He exited the transport. As soon as he stepped off, Ash turned back to the console and initiated their departure.
Rykus came up behind her, wrapped her in his arms. She braced for another conversation about how none of this was her fault, how she had done everything she could to save her friends, how she needed help and time to heal. She didn’t want to hear any of it.
He kissed the side of her neck. “Tell me about this secret way you have to get onto the base.”
Relieved, she relaxed into him. He knew she was falling apart, but he wouldn’t push her. Not now, thank God, because Cas had been right. She was weak. She hated that Rykus could see it. Hated that he knew how much she needed a distraction. Hated that she could find comfort in his arms when she shouldn’t find comfort anywhere.
“Stop thinking,” he murmured.
She nodded, her gaze locked on the stretch of black space between their transport and Caruth. Another wave of foreboding twisted through her. She hadn’t felt this way on the approach to Glory, a hellhole planet with crime and poverty and a past that could tear her apart. Caruth was a small but civilized planet. It was safe.
“Ash.” Rykus gently turned her to face him. “Are you okay?”
He’d shaved his beard a couple of nights ago. Everyone would recognize him here. That should be okay. She shouldn’t have to worry. He practically owned the planet. He could bend it to his will.
She slipped on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He gripped her waist with one hand, reached up to rest his other on the side of her neck. “You’re not okay.”
“I said I was fine.”
“That’s code for a thousand things are wrong but you’re going to deal with them on your own and resent me for a week.”
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