“Who is Ferid?” he asked, scanning back through Khalil’s progress.
“A Karassian.” Khalil took another mouthful of stew. “Biocomp enhanced. Maybe military. I don’t know that yet. His ship—the one he was using then—was parked on Pushyan, two years ago.”
“Suggestive, but not conclusive.”
“He was on Antini, a few months later.”
“Lots of people go there.”
“Including Reynard and Gaubert Cardenas, at the exact same time this Ferid was there.”
Sang stood up from his bend over the navigation console. “That is one coincidence too many. Are there any others?”
“I back tracked from Antini. He was on Xindar and Angyl—both free states.” Khalil met Sang’s gaze. “Both locations where people connected to Ben Arany disappeared.”
Sang laid it out in his mind. “First, Pushyan, where the girl was. She was naked when she died. She killed herself in a way that suggests she was using whatever was to hand. Torture?”
“To make her tell him where Ben was based, most likely,” Khalil said.
“She killed herself to avoid telling him anything.” Sang drew in a heavy breath. “For a fifteen-year-old, that’s remarkable.”
“Ben knew how to find the best people.”
“Clearly. This Ferid moved on to two more people connected to your brother, who might be able to tell him where Benjamin was located, where he came to land and could be pinned down. The last was the successful interrogation.”
“He was on Angyl around the time Marcel Kopitar and his wife disappeared. Marcel was Ben’s medic.” Khalil’s mouth turned down.
“The medic’s wife,” Sang said slowly. “Leverage?”
“It’s a good bet. I knew Marcel. He was an asshole. On the other hand, he was completely loyal. He was also besotted with his wife.” Khalil sighed. “That’s not all.”
Sang raised his brow.
“While Ferid was on Antini, so was another Karassian we know. Woodrow.”
“From Ledan,” Sang finished, remembering the little man’s taunting of Bellona, his attempt to coax her to come back and work as Xenia for him. “A prominent Karassian, a biocomp assassin, plus Bellona’s father and uncle, all in the same place. Reynard swore he had nothing to do with Shavistran.”
“Gaubert said he did it,” Khalil said. “On behalf of the clans and the family. For peace, he said.” Khalil grimaced again. “If he was on Antini with Woodrow, that’s what Woodrow would have told him—where to find Ben Arany and his people. The Republic blamed Ben for the destruction of the Jovian…and maybe even for Max Cardenas’ murder. Woodrow pointed Bellona’s family at Ben and stepped back to watch them do the dirty work for Karassia.”
Sang nodded. “Bellona has always held Karassia accountable for Shavistran, because it was their city killer the Republic used. No one knew there was a deeper and more direct connection than that.”
“Now we do know,” Khalil said. “I’m trying to find Ferid, now. He is the most mobile of the two, which makes him the most vulnerable. We can’t go at Woodrow, not while he’s hiding inside Ledan. We don’t have the firepower to break down the shields over Kachmar and we can’t bluff our way in there a second time.”
“What do you intend to do with Ferid when you do find him?” Sang asked curiously.
“He is indirectly responsible for Shavistran.”
“So are others, including Bellona and your brother, if you stretch that definition a little further.”
Khalil dropped the spoon back into the empty bowl with a clatter. “I don’t know, Sang! I just want to find the creep, all right? I want to put him in front of Bellona and tell her what he did, then let her do what she wants with him.”
“Do what with who?” came the question from the bridge gate.
Sang knew it was Hero before he looked over his shoulder to check. She strolled onto the deck with a casual prowl. The neck of her shirt had dropped off one shoulder, revealing creamy brown flesh. The skirt she wore displayed shapely thigh.
It was automatic to hide his impatience. Sang suppressed the sigh that wanted to emerge.
Khalil looked at him, then at Hero. “No one you need worry about for just now,” he told her.
“So, not someone I can fuck, one way or another?” she asked, sidling up beside Sang. She looked up at him, a small smile on her full lips.
“This is a project outside Bellona’s directives,” Sang told her.
“A private scam?” she asked, her attention riveted. “Oooh, maybe I can help!” She bumped her hip against Sang’s thigh.
“Private means not open to discussion,” Khalil said, his tone polite.
Hero didn’t look at him. Her gaze stayed on Sang. “You can tell me,” she assured him.
“It isn’t my project to share,” Sang replied.
“And Sang is being way too nice,” Khalil said shortly. “You’re in the way, Hero. This is important. Leave us alone.”
For the first time, Hero looked at Khalil directly. “No. I’m having fun.” She returned her gaze to Sang. “Tell me who you’re hunting for Bellona. Pleeease.”
Before Sang could answer, Khalil slapped the top of the console, with a loud smacking sound. “Enough!” he roared. “Hero, get out! I won’t say it again.”
Hero straightened to her full height, which was far shorter than Sang’s. She looked at Khalil, her chin up. “Fuck you, crepunda.”
Khalil’s face turned a deep red.
Startled, Sang accessed his archives, looking for the word she had just used. He found it in antiquarian language documents.
Plaything.
Khalil stood frozen for a fraction of a second, absorbing the shock. Pale lines of fury formed on either side of his mouth. His eyes narrowed. His jaw rippled.
Hero didn’t flinch. She kept her chin up and her eyes locked on Khalil, almost daring him to respond. In the back of his mind, Sang found the capacity to admire her courage, despite the foolhardiness of her challenge.
Khalil moved. He didn’t go around the console. He leapt over it, in an astonishingly fast movement. Hero was nearly as quick. She backed up a step and raised her hands defensively. Even now, she didn’t turn and run as some might.
Khalil ducked under her hands and grabbed her throat, his elbows out to hold her nails away from him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your neck?” he growled.
Hero tapped her fingertips on his wrist. The long forefinger nail scraped over the sleeve. “I could tear through this with little effort,” she whispered. Every word sounded painful to speak through the grip he had on her neck.
“I’d still kill you before I died.”
“You’d deprive Bellona of a good general?”
“You?” His tone was dry.
“At least she trusts me, weed.”
Khalil breathed hard.
Sang put his hand on Hero’s shoulder. “I have no doubt that you can kill him, Hero. If you do, it would destroy Bellona. Think of that.”
Hero scowled at Khalil. All her prettiness had fled. “True,” she said, her voice husky. She dropped her hand from his sleeve and just stood there. “Kill me, though, and she’ll trust you even less.”
Khalil growled and shoved her from him.
Hero staggered back and regained her balance, smiling. She brushed down her skirt and resettled her shirt on her shoulder. “Keep your secrets,” she told Khalil. “If you can.” She flounced from the deck, her own fury matching Khalil’s in intensity.
Khalil whirled and bent over, his hands propping him up against the navigation console. He breathed heavily, shuddering.
Sang edged away. Time to leave, to let him recover in private.
“I can’t help her this way,” Khalil said, his voice low and shaking.
Sang paused. “You help just by being you.”
“I’m not effective. Hero is right. I’m nothing but a distraction and useless for anything else. They all know it.” He hung his head.
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Sang hesitated. He was at a loss to know what to say. He had never been faced with something like this before. He could speak the truth, only the truth would hurt.
Khalil pushed himself upright with a decisive movement. He squared his shoulders, then turned to look at Sang. “I’ll take Connie. That leaves everyone with the Alyard.”
“Take? Where are you going?” Sang asked, alarmed.
“I’m going to find Ferid. I’ve got a range of possibilities. I’ll hunt them all down.” Khalil’s mouth turned down. “Then I will be at least useful in one way.” He turned away.
“You can’t leave!”
“I can, actually.” Khalil looked back. “Help Bellona while I’m gone, okay?”
Sang scrambled to arrange his thoughts coherently. “Is that an order?” he asked.
“I can’t give orders around here. You witnessed that for yourself.”
Sang shook his head. “That’s just one misguided, mean woman—”
Khalil put his hand on Sang’s shoulder, silencing him. His gaze was steady. “I’m asking, Sang. That’s all. Even if I could give an order they’d listen to, I would never do that to you.” His grip tightened and fell away. Then he left the bridge, moving fast.
* * * * *
Southern Continent, Fourth District, Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic
Markjohn Cardenas grounded the skiff at the south end of the private landing field, as close to the sprawling house as possible. Here on the southern continent, among the low hills and long grasses at the bottom of the peninsula, there were few people to note his arrival.
It was cold down here. He shivered and reached into the skiff to pull out the heavy coat he’d thrown into the cab while his wife fussed and complained about the frequent and unexpected assembly meetings since Reynard had died.
Sliding his arms into the coat, Markjohn strode through the thigh-high grasses toward the house, his heart running ahead of his feet. Anticipation was making his body thrum.
She opened the door as he climbed the broad steps onto the porch and held out her arms.
Markjohn pulled Iulia up against him and kissed her thoroughly and deeply.
“How long?” she whispered against his lips.
“Eight hours, no longer,” he breathed, reaching for the fastening on her robe.
Iulia pulled him inside and shut the door on the rest of the world.
Chapter Twelve
Demosthenes, Alkeides System
Bellona stopped eating in the dining hall. She didn’t have the stomach for it after Sang had explained what had happened on the bridge between Khalil and Hero.
Her first instinct was to lash out at Hero. To wound her in some way that would make her feel as bad and as guilty as Bellona felt. The urge to hurt someone was so strong it made her moan with the need to act.
Sang’s calmness kept her in the room, walking a tight circle, instead. Once Sang was done talking, the surge of fury had passed.
Khalil was gone. She could not order him back. She wouldn’t order him back. Unlike the Ledanians and Amilcare’s people, who had all sworn oaths to serve her and her cause, Khalil stayed because he wanted to. Now, he no longer wanted to stay.
It was too much to expect her to sit among the people who had driven him away. She couldn’t bear to look at Hero.
Bellona left Sang to direct the work on building the prototype forge, while she stayed in her spacious suite and brooded. She printed food as she needed it, although her appetite had fled. The assembled food did nothing to increase her hunger.
On the fifth day, Thecla banged on the door, demanding entry in a loud voice. She was the first person beside Sang to dare impose upon Bellona’s solitude.
Bellona stared at the door, willing the woman to go away.
The pounding stopped. Bellona relaxed.
When it started up again, ten seconds later, she jumped.
“I’m not leaving, Bellona!” Thecla called through the thick door. Her voice was muffled, yet perfectly understandable. “You’ve sulked enough. Open the damn door!”
Bellona sighed. “Open the door,” she told the computer.
The door slid open.
Thecla lowered her hand, the external tendon reflecting the light from the corridor. It made Bellona aware of how dark it was in the suite. “Lights, sixty percent,” she said.
The lights came up.
Thecla sauntered into the suite, pushing her hands into the pockets of her pants. It made the tendons flex and gleam. The ink on her arm writhed around the implants. “Whatever you’re eating smells awful,” she announced.
Bellona glanced at the plate with the congealed, dark brown mess on it. “That was yesterday’s breakfast,” she admitted.
Thecla picked up the plate and shoved it into the return slot and dusted off her hands. “Got a minute, boss?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Bellona asked.
“You need to stretch your legs.”
Step out of this room? Bellona shook her head. “I have things to do.”
“Sang has taken care of all of them. You know that as well as I do. Come on. A brisk walk down to the landing deck and back. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Is anyone down there?” Bellona asked. She glanced at the chrono readout. It was later than she had realized.
“On the deck at this time of night? What do you think?” Thecla demanded.
Bellona still hesitated. Yet the need to move was making itself felt.
“You know I could make you walk, if I had to?” Thecla asked.
Bellona knew. She was a simple, unenhanced human with good reactions. Kilo for kilo, Thecla was at least as strong as Hayes and Hayes had once hammered Bellona into the ground, then carried her over his wrist like a wet towel.
Thecla jerked her head toward the door. Perhaps she sensed Bellona’s capitulation. “C’mon,” she repeated.
Bellona sighed and got to her feet. Even moving to the door, she could feel the stiffness in her limbs. She hadn’t trained since Khalil had left, either.
The corridor outside the suite that led directly to the bridge was only slightly brighter than inside the suite. The light level on the ship automatically adjusted to match the daylight and darkness of a standard human day, encouraging natural sleep cycles. Nothing moved that she could hear. The bridge was always silent. Now the corridor and the rest of Demosthenes was still, too.
Reassured that she wouldn’t have to face anyone directly, Bellona found it easier to walk alongside Thecla. The deck was seven levels down from the bridge. The drop shaft at the end of this main corridor led directly onto the deck.
“Has it been peaceful here while I was ignoring everyone?” Bellona asked. There was an apologetic note in her voice that was not intentional.
“Zeni and Sang had a couple of run-ins. She just doesn’t seem to understand she can’t win against Sang. Other than that, mostly stupid stuff.” Thecla shrugged and pushed her hand into her pockets once more.
“When I knew you on Ledan, I thought you were a sculptor,” Bellona told Thecla, glancing at the tendons once more.
“I thought I was a sculptor, too,” Thecla said. She wrinkled her nose. “They really fucked with us, didn’t they?”
“Were you a biobot, before?
Thecla glanced at her arms. “Yeah. I wanted the strength.”
“Why?”
“It let me break things better.”
Bellona looked at her, startled.
Thecla grinned, her brown eyes merry. “I was considered incurably violent. They gave me a choice.”
“Ledan, or…”
“Execution,” Thecla finished. “They weren’t that direct, though. I got to sign up for some mystery assignment, or they’d strap me to a table the next morning. I wasn’t done with living yet, so I signed.” She shrugged. “Then I woke up seven years later on the Alyard, with you standing over me, telling me I was a free woman. All I could remember was that damn lagoon and
making things with my hands.”
They stepped into the drop shaft together. Bellona gripped the pull bar as weightlessness grabbed her and hauled herself down. Thecla used one of the bars on the other side of the shaft.
“Are you still…incurable?” Bellona asked.
“Funny thing, that,” Thecla said. “They fucked with our memories, taught us how to be lethal and violent, and now I don’t have to be, anymore. What I do have to do is make things.”
“Sculptures?” Bellona asked.
“Things. Anything. As long as I’m doing it with my hands.” She laughed. “I came out only a little bit twisted. Retha and Aideen…even Hayes, have stronger side effects. That makes me lucky.” She looked at Bellona. “Everyone figures you got out unscathed. I’m not so sure about that.”
Bellona pushed herself past the openings to the intervening levels, which were as dim and quiet as the bridge level. “If Ledan hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t be here. I was a good little Eriuman daughter. I brought into the family principles. Discipline, obedience, industry. Well, not obedience. Just the other two. So, yes, Ledan changed me, as much as anyone else I pulled out of there. I just seem to have found a way to use those changes. I suppose I am lucky, too.”
“Except you can’t figure out how to trust anyone,” Thecla said quietly.
Bellona swallowed. “Not true,” she said, just as quietly. “I trust you. I trust all of you.”
The gravity increased as they neared the bottom of the shaft and they pulled themselves over to the doorway, to step out onto the deck.
Thecla barred the door with her arm, the tendon stretching sinuously. “You did me, all of us, a favor, getting us out of Ledan. We’ve got issues, yeah. Retha can barely sleep for nightmares, yet he’d tell you without hesitation he’d rather have the nightmares and be here. I’ve never thanked you for coming back for us, so…thank you.”
Bellona nodded. “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.”
“I know.” Thecla dropped her arm. “I figure that means you’ll forgive me for this.” She stepped out onto the deck.
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