“Wasn’t that tough to find out. The crew has loose lips, and I don’t think anyone thinks of it as a secret,” Dorthan said, making Treena wonder if Conner Douglas had learned the truth yet. She wasn’t even sure why she was keeping it from him.
“It’s unlike anything you can imagine. I can lift ten times my weight, and you should see me run,” she told him, trying to speak his language without being a braggart about it.
“You look spectacular,” he said, smiling.
“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself, for an old man,” she told him.
“Just because I’m gray doesn’t mean I can’t still move.” He seemed to take the barb in stride, and she liked him more for it.
She glanced at Iliandra and the Minon scientist, and asked Dorthan what they were discussing.
“That’s between them. I’m here to make sure no one eavesdrops.”
“Have you worked with her long?”
“Ten years. She’s a good woman. All of the Advisors only seek to continue our species, but this last decade has been tumultuous. With the funding from the Concord cut off, and the off-world researchers returning home, it hasn’t been easy,” he said.
“Well, now that we’re involved, we’ll bring it to the Prime’s attention. He’s a good man, and there’s no way Prime Xune will ignore your request for aid. I’m certain of it,” she said.
“Do you really think so?” Dorthan asked, his voice light.
“I do. Plus, when we return with Charlan, you should have a much easier time solving this genetic issue.” Treena refused to call the girl an asset.
“I like you, Treena Starling,” Dorthan told her, tapping his cup on the table.
Iliandra rose and walked by their table without comment. Dorthan was quick to his feet, following along behind her.
Fourteen
Lark Keen sat on the cot, elbows resting on knees, hands over his eyes. What choices had he made to end up here? He tried to think back to the beginning. His father had been a decent enough man, worked hard as an executive lieutenant on a well-respected cruise ship. Lark had spent the first ten years of his life visiting Luxin every chance he got. His mother had always hated the trips. From the moment she stepped on, she’d claimed that the recycled air wasn’t healthy, that the bulkheads were too low, that the quarters were too compact.
His father had been a patient man, but not a leader. He’d been content to stay at his rank, never seeking to climb up the rungs toward commander or captain. Lark was always impressed with his station as an executive crew officer, and distinctly recalled the moment his grandfather tore a strip into his son about it. Admiral Keen had been around during the War and held a lot of sway. He died not long after the conversation with Lark’s dad, but his words rang clear.
“Son, you’re a failure. Do you think I did everything during and after the War to see you waste your life taking orders from some Callalay woman? No. You were meant for big things. I didn’t sacrifice so much to see you dither away a great opportunity,” his grandfather had said.
Lark had been hiding in his room, pretending to be sleeping, and he’d barely heard his father’s calm reply. “Not everyone has to seek fame and glory, Father. Some of us are content to find peace within, and nurture our friends and family, rather than step on their shoulders.”
Lark had been conflicted, and he tried to remember how old he was that night. Twelve, maybe. He smiled on his cot. Had life ever been so simple?
Now he was being brought to the Vusuls, and that could only mean one thing. They knew.
His cell was surprisingly comfortable, better than his memory of the one on Constantine. It had been at least two weeks since they’d departed Wavor Manor, and this had Lark concerned. Where were the Vusuls luring the Concord, and what was his role going to be?
Not to mention the big question. What could the Vusuls possibly have that the Concord wanted so badly to trade their largest enemy of the state for? He’d considered the problem more times than he could count during his captivity and had no answers. None that made sense.
The Concord didn’t negotiate with outsiders. If they weren’t in the Concord, they weren’t trade-worthy. Perhaps the Vusuls had told them about the fifth colony ship’s destination. That had to be it. The idea sent him up on his feet, and he paced the small cell. The floors were pure white, the lights above intense and unyielding. Lark had an inkling of what was in Sol, but the Vusuls didn’t even seem to know for sure. It was speculation, and Lark didn’t like dealing in conjecture. He liked hard facts, and he didn’t have enough.
Not that any of it mattered. The Vusuls were likely to kill him… or worse.
The door at the end of the corridor sounded, and Lark walked to the edge of the cell, standing at the high-energy bars that would burn to the touch. His head felt far clearer than it had while he was on Constantine. At that time he’d been in constant fear for his wife and daughter, and now he knew they were together and safe. This was really all that mattered. He’d spent the last few months on Wavor’s moon trying to formulate a plan, but escape hadn’t been an option. Somehow he was being given a sliver of hope. Perhaps he could talk his way out of this after all; convince the Vusuls he could still help them, regardless of the news they heard about Driun F49.
“Lark,” the man said, and he saw the recognizable face of Conner Douglas.
“Conner, how kind of you to come visit an old friend,” he said.
“I wouldn’t call us friends, Lark. You were gone by the time I was in the second year,” he said. “Remember… Leria?”
“How could I forget? I met my wife there, you know,” Lark said, standing four feet apart from the younger man.
“That’s common knowledge. You should have seen the Academy go up in arms at your disappearance. Thomas Baldwin was so angry,” Conner said.
“Because of Seda?” Lark asked.
Conner shook his head. “Not necessarily. I think he liked her, but his best friend up and took off without a word. He was livid. He wouldn’t talk about anything else the entire return trip to Nolix.”
This was news to Lark. He’d always assumed Baldwin was upset about the girl, not him.
“You really think a one-week relationship with a nineteen-year-old was worth more to Tom than his friendship with you? Not likely. You guys were like brothers. Treena and I used to say you were both going to be the best captains in the fleet one day. We each imagined being a commander on one of your vessels, and fighting the good battles side by side.” Conner’s handsome face grinned as his eyes refocused. “It’s almost come true, but not quite like that.”
Lark’s breath caught in his chest. Had he been mistaken this entire time? Could he have stayed and changed the course of the Concord? Maybe being inside, rather than fighting it from the outside like a rat in a sewer, would have been the better move. His grandfather’s words to his dad rang in his ears, and he wondered what the old man would think of him now, sitting in a Concord jail cell, a traitor to everything the bastard had tried to keep safe.
But it was too late. He was screwed, and he’d only get one chance to see his family again. “Conner, I always liked you. You were bright, but I think your characteristics held you back. You were treated differently, but no one took you seriously enough. I hope you’re happy in your current position.”
Conner squinted at him, as if trying to decide if that was an insult or praise. His smile told Keen he chose the latter. “I know. But I’ve played the hand I was given.”
Lark had to reel him in. “How’s Rene Bouchard? She was quite the firecracker, wasn’t she? Bossy, arrogant, but very capable, correct?”
Conner nodded. “She takes a while to warm up to, but after a bit, you see the skill behind her mannerisms and decisions.”
“Good. I doubt the Concord would have put another human in charge of a cruise ship without good reason.” Lark had planted the seed and now needed to water it. “Have they announced who’ll be taking on the next round of ships they const
ruct?”
“I heard Treena was being offered captaincy of one,” Conner said. “And she’s human. Interesting. They really are catering to the humans a bit, aren’t they? Has there ever been so many in charge?”
Keen shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I hardly think we can classify Starling as a human, can we?”
Conner’s eyes went wide, and Lark instantly saw that the man wasn’t privy to her condition. “What in the Vastness does that mean? She seems human to me.”
“Old friend, how much they’ve kept from you. Treena Starling is an android.” Keen stopped, letting the information catch up into Conner’s head.
“An android… that’s impossible. It’s also illegal.”
“Not for her. You heard about the accident?”
“The one where the Assembly attempted to cause dissention and killed her entire crew and her partner, Felix?” Conner spat in anger.
Bad move, Lark. Pivot. “That’s only a rumor. It wasn’t my call. They encountered one another and had no choice but to engage; otherwise, their cover was blown. The ship was in the wrong sector, trying to make a shortcut. And believe me, the captain of that ship didn’t live to tell the tale.” It was a half truth, but Lark didn’t tell him that.
“And Treena?”
“She lived, but barely. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. Surely everyone else knows?”
Conner shrugged. “Are you telling me she’s inside an android body?” He mopped his face with a palm.
“That’s correct. Top-of-the-line R-emergence work there. She was the first to receive such an honor,” Lark said.
“And her body? The real Treena?”
“Last I heard, she was tucked away safely in a room on Constantine,” Lark said.
Conner turned to leave, and Lark smiled. He might have him. “Conner, please come back. It was nice to reconnect. I… I never meant for anyone to be hurt.”
Conner stopped and craned his neck to the side. “The Vusuls. What do they want with you?”
“They were promised something a few years ago.”
“And are they going to be angry with you?”
“Very.”
“Good.” Conner’s boots clipped as they stalked over the hard floor, and soon Keen was alone with nothing but his regrets once again.
____________
Gotran sensed them coming from a mile away. There was nothing subtle about these Vusuls. Heavy footsteps thudded over the floor as they arrived at the suite. Eve was sleeping in her bedroom, and Gotran was parked on the couch, never letting anyone step between him and the girl. It was his duty, one he took very seriously.
He stood, cracking his back as the door opened. The same hulking guard from their first encounter stood formally, along with the crooked old Vusuls man, his plate teeth showing as he scowled. “Come with us.”
Gotran ran a hand over his beard, wishing he had something to trim it with. They’d been with their captors for over three weeks now, and he was worried about losing his edge. They kept them fed and hydrated, but he was cautious about doing his training regime near a camera, not wanting them to think him strong.
The big guard noisily clomped into the suite, moving for Eve’s door, and Gotran jumped in front of him. “I’ll wake the girl,” he said. The guard glanced at his boss, who waited a second and passed a curt nod.
Gotran entered her room, and she was already dressed, long hair braided on the side of her head. “My mom used to do this for me.”
He smiled. “It looks nice.”
“What do they want?” Her voice was timid.
“I don’t know. Follow my lead.”
She gave him a brave smile, and they trailed after the old man, the guard staying behind them, massive gun rested lazily on his shoulder. Gotran had to stop himself from thinking how easy it would be to disarm the guy and kill both of them. It would be impossible to escape this ship.
He glanced at Eve and reconsidered this. Wait. She knows this layout. It’s the same as her colony vessel. Maybe there’s an escape pod. Could it be so simple? He almost laughed at the thoughts.
The corridor ended, and they continued on through narrow halls until they emerged into a giant bridge. There were at least forty of the Vusuls here, uniformed and busy. The viewscreen spanned the entire front section of the ship, giving the illusion of floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond them was nothing but the darkness of space, and Gotran had never seen something quite like it.
“Is this how your ship was?” he asked the girl quietly.
She nodded in response. “I used to stand there, reaching for the stars.”
Gotran had a wave of nausea spin through his stomach, but it passed as he pictured the flame of life in his mind’s eye. The old one was clearly their leader, as others bowed gently as he passed, some speaking to him in a foreign language.
The guard was behind Gotran, and he shoved the Guardian forward toward the center of the round bridge. Helm stations were everywhere, made into a circle that aimed toward a projection in the middle of the area. A star map was there, 3D and glowing green. There were a few upcoming planets, all of them unfamiliar to Gotran.
“Where are you taking us?” he asked.
“The Govis system,” the old one said. “We have a station there. The world, like many others, is not Class Zero Nine, such as the Concord has hoarded. Our people need more. The location will suffice.”
“And the exchange? Did the Advisors agree to your terms?” Gotran asked, glancing at the girl. She stood staring at the viewscreens instead of the 3D map.
“They have agreed. We will soon have Keen and our new home.”
“Home?” Gotran asked, and it all made more sense. They’d gone to a lot of effort for this girl, but that was only a move on the game board. A simple exchange wasn’t the answer. They were far from the Border and likely luring in the Concord to such lengths. But to what end? “When will we be trading?”
“Soon. Ten Standard days.” The old Vusuls crossed his meaty arms over his barrel chest as one of his officers typed on a console. A bright blue light projected on the star map, and Gotran saw it was close to their location.
“When do we arrive?” Eve asked, her gaze finally on the projection.
“Hours.”
The viewscreen image flickered to something new, a zoomed-in image from the system they were inside. A giant station sat orbiting a lifeless gray planet. The metal structure was immense, rods and antennae jutting from the top and bottom of the long thin station. What was this?
Gotran was surprised at how calm the crew was. His initial vision of these people had seen them as brutes, barbarian pirates, but they acted quite civilized. They smiled at one another and talked peacefully, instead of beating chests and grunting.
Eve walked the bridge, running her hands over consoles, and she took Gotran to the edge of the open space, standing directly at the viewscreen that had switched to the original image of space’s expanse.
“Stand here.” She motioned at his feet to touch the screens and stood a few inches from it herself. He copied her and felt like he was standing on the top of a cliff, overlooking nothingness below. It was exhilarating.
“Ten days, Eve,” Gotran said. Gone were any plans of escaping this ship, but perhaps once they were on the station…
“Why did my people have to die?” she asked, staring into the beyond.
He put a fatherly arm around her, pulling her close. “I don’t know. Something went wrong on board. Several of the Minon speculated that they died so you’d come to us after all these years. You’re our savior, and it was intended by the Vastness.”
“You put a lot of faith into something you’ve never seen,” she said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I see the Vastness each day. In the beauty of our worlds and the air we breathe. I see it in the few rare births it’s allowed us, and in the patterns of stars out there. I see it in you, Eve, and I see it even in the Vusuls’ bent leader. It surrounds us, in small and b
ig miracles.” Gotran had never been much for religion, but after the last while, the Vastness was weighing on his mind.
They were still a ways from the station, but Gotran thought he could see the tiny pinprick of their destination in the distance.
____________
Tom couldn’t figure out what it meant, but Kelli had come at once to Treena’s room. Even now, sitting in his office with Brax, he couldn’t stop thinking about his commander’s physical body. Her hands had moved. Her eyes had opened, but there was no recognition behind them. Kelli had said that while locked into her android body, Treena could only see and hear that reality. Otherwise, it would be too much for her mind.
But she was improving. She was gradually gaining control of her digits, and Kelli suggested they increase the physical therapy aspects of her treatment. They’d slowed them when she’d arrived on Constantine, when the R-emergence team told them she would never move again. Tom wondered if Treena had a second or third opinion before just taking the tech company’s word on it.
“Captain, everything okay?” Brax asked.
“Sure.” He hadn’t told the others about the changes in the commander yet because it may have been a fluke, a one-off, but he didn’t think so. The way she’d squeezed his hand spoke volumes. He’d tried to send Shu a message, but it had failed like all the rest.
“She’s late,” Brax told him.
“Admiral Jalin Benitor is late even on the best of days. I suppose our transmission errors are causing this one,” Tom said. “What have you and Ven been working on? He mentioned some research project the other day,” he asked, quite curious.
“Not much. Just some old system name that we’ve heard of a few times. Probably nothing.” Brax’s expression didn’t convince Tom, but he was distracted from the issue as the projection appeared.
Admiral Benitor’s image flickered before them. “Baldwin, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Then let’s get on with it. We’re a week from the rendezvous. We’ve passed through a few known systems on our way, but it’s been quiet on this side of the Border. No pirates, no territory-protecting locals.”
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