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Children of the Divide

Page 11

by Patrick S. Tomlinson


  “What are you doing with my ship?” Jian asked, but the ceiling went silent again. “Madeja?” he demanded.

  Nothing.

  Jian pounded the bulkhead with his fist until he was afraid his hand would break, then took several deep, furious breaths. He felt Kirkland’s hand on his shoulder, even through the thick compressive mesh of his skin-suit.

  “What are we going to do, boss?”

  Jian looked around at the rest of his team’s anxious, confused, expectant faces. They were looking at him. Looking to him. He held his arms out and motioned for everyone to huddle up. Everyone except Rakunas, who’d come to rest at the rear of the cargo hold. Jian motioned to him to stay in place.

  Once they were all in a floating circle, Jian opened an encrypted plant link between them, bypassing the shuttle’s systems entirely by setting up a temporary dedicated network. It wasn’t inconceivable that Madeja could hack into it and eavesdrop on the conversation, but breaking the encryption would take time and attention that he strongly suspected she didn’t have to spare at the moment.

  Jian started. He glanced up at the folding cargo doors than made up the shuttle’s ceiling.

  one of the techs pleaded.

  shouted another.

  Kirkland said.

  Jian barked.

  Kirkland shook her head.

  Jian snapped.

  the fretting tech said.

  Jian said.

 

 

  “That better be a prayer circle, children,” Madeja said through the PA system.

  Jian held his hands together in a rather half-hearted display of piety.

 

  Jian let a few seconds slip away while the full implications of his words settled.

  Kirkland said.

  Rakunas followed.

  one of the techs said.

  Kirkland pointed out.

  Rakunas asked.

  Jian shook his head.

  Kirkland said.

  Rakunas said.

  Everyone turned to quizzically look at him floating at the far end of the cargo bay.

 

  Kirkland said.

  Jian said.

 

  Jian ignored this.

  Rakunas said.

 

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