was rewarded with a moment of surprised silence than a deep chuckle. “Perhaps two weeks on the Diligent with me will convince you to change your mind.” I wasn’t even thinking about the next two weeks. I still needed to get through the next two hours.
The lift doors opened on Corridor Level Seven-Blue. Brown M.O.C. uniforms wove past freighter blues, greens and grays, and past security’s darker gray with the telltale white stripe up the pant legs. The hulking, furred presence of the Takas towered over all.
I was just shaking off the chill of fear from Tran’s questions. I wanted to run, board the ship, seal the airlock. We walked instead at a leisurely pace. “We’ll part company at your ship,” Drogue said. “We’ll meet again, praise the stars, under
more pleasant circumstances.” “I hope so.” Pleasant circumstances sounded wonderful. “I appreciate your help.” “No, sister. We appreciate yours.” Drogue held my gaze for a moment. Clearly, Sully’s
mission was personal to him. I had two weeks with Sully and Ren to find out why. Not that it
mattered, overall. If the Empire were breeding jukors again, that was sufficient reason for me. “What berth are we looking for?” “Seven-Blue-Nineteen, I believe.” Drogue glanced back at Sully, who nodded. We were at Berth Twelve. Then Fourteen. At Sixteen I fought to keep from quickening my
pace, played my little time game in my mind. Ten minutes to board. Half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes to get clearance to undock.
At Eighteen I stopped dead in my tracks. A thin chill raced up my spine. Bright yellow security ’bots ringed the next airlock, lights flashing. Sully’s hand splayed against my back. His voice growled in my ear. “Stay here.”
I had no intention of getting anywhere near the security ’bots, or the half dozen M.O.C. guards and Security stripers standing in a tight knot under the illuminated “19” on the overhead. Illuminated in orange: ship under security seal or quarantine.
“Face me,” Sully ordered.
I did, turning away from the scene that sent my heart into my throat. Drogue and Ren kept
moving. Their credentials, I surmised, weren’t forged like mine. Or Sully’s. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. And I don’t like it when I don’t know.” “They’re under a Code Orange.” “Obviously. But I can’t imagine Milo doing anything to elicit that. He excels at being
cautious.” “An accident? A fire?” A supposed engine malfunction that had become real? “Crew problem?” “Milo’d never let anything on-ship get to the docks. He knows better.” Sully frowned, his gaze over my shoulder.
Megan Sybil Baker - 33
“You’re sure it’s the Diligent ?” Ships switched berths for any number of legitimate reasons.
He answered my question with a squinting of obsidian eyes, then, “Still reads so.”
Shit. Easy was disappearing fast. “Options?”
“Let’s cross that—Ren. Talk to us.”
The Stolorth stepped next to me, bowed to Sully, fingers steepled. “Brother Sudral. Sister
Berri. I feel a need to meditate. I suggest we return to the Temple, and pray.” Oh, shit! Easy hit a jumpgate and was gone. I bowed my head as Ren and Sully flanked me.
“Where’s Drogue?” I asked quietly. Berth Seventeen. Sixteen. “He will meet us at the Temple,” Ren said. Fourteen. Twelve. “The M.O.C. received information a certain ship was to assist in a prison
break.” Ren’s voice was as calm as if he were commenting on the color of the decking below our
boots. My heart pounded. Berth Ten. “That information pointed to a ship called the Diligent Keeper ,” Ren continued. Sully was silent. A cluster of blue-uniformed freighter crew strolled by, laughing. As we passed Berth Nine, Ren added, “An attempt was made to take the ship, two hours
past. The Diligent broke dock. However, I regret that her captain, Nathaniel Milo, is dead.” “Bastards.” Sully’s voice was harsh, bitter. My downcast gaze
The lift doors opened on Corridor Level Seven-Blue. Brown M.O.C. uniforms wove past freighter blues, greens and grays, and past security’s darker gray with the telltale white stripe up the pant legs. The hulking, furred presence of the Takas towered over all.
I was just shaking off the chill of fear from Tran’s questions. I wanted to run, board the ship, seal the airlock. We walked instead at a leisurely pace. “We’ll part company at your ship,” Drogue said. “We’ll meet again, praise the stars, under
more pleasant circumstances.” “I hope so.” Pleasant circumstances sounded wonderful. “I appreciate your help.” “No, sister. We appreciate yours.” Drogue held my gaze for a moment. Clearly, Sully’s
mission was personal to him. I had two weeks with Sully and Ren to find out why. Not that it
mattered, overall. If the Empire were breeding jukors again, that was sufficient reason for me. “What berth are we looking for?” “Seven-Blue-Nineteen, I believe.” Drogue glanced back at Sully, who nodded. We were at Berth Twelve. Then Fourteen. At Sixteen I fought to keep from quickening my
pace, played my little time game in my mind. Ten minutes to board. Half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes to get clearance to undock.
At Eighteen I stopped dead in my tracks. A thin chill raced up my spine. Bright yellow security ’bots ringed the next airlock, lights flashing. Sully’s hand splayed against my back. His voice growled in my ear. “Stay here.”
I had no intention of getting anywhere near the security ’bots, or the half dozen M.O.C. guards and Security stripers standing in a tight knot under the illuminated “19” on the overhead. Illuminated in orange: ship under security seal or quarantine.
“Face me,” Sully ordered.
I did, turning away from the scene that sent my heart into my throat. Drogue and Ren kept
moving. Their credentials, I surmised, weren’t forged like mine. Or Sully’s. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know. And I don’t like it when I don’t know.” “They’re under a Code Orange.” “Obviously. But I can’t imagine Milo doing anything to elicit that. He excels at being
cautious.” “An accident? A fire?” A supposed engine malfunction that had become real? “Crew problem?” “Milo’d never let anything on-ship get to the docks. He knows better.” Sully frowned, his gaze over my shoulder.
Megan Sybil Baker - 33
“You’re sure it’s the Diligent ?” Ships switched berths for any number of legitimate reasons.
He answered my question with a squinting of obsidian eyes, then, “Still reads so.”
Shit. Easy was disappearing fast. “Options?”
“Let’s cross that—Ren. Talk to us.”
The Stolorth stepped next to me, bowed to Sully, fingers steepled. “Brother Sudral. Sister
Berri. I feel a need to meditate. I suggest we return to the Temple, and pray.” Oh, shit! Easy hit a jumpgate and was gone. I bowed my head as Ren and Sully flanked me.
“Where’s Drogue?” I asked quietly. Berth Seventeen. Sixteen. “He will meet us at the Temple,” Ren said. Fourteen. Twelve. “The M.O.C. received information a certain ship was to assist in a prison
break.” Ren’s voice was as calm as if he were commenting on the color of the decking below our
boots. My heart pounded. Berth Ten. “That information pointed to a ship called the Diligent Keeper ,” Ren continued. Sully was silent. A cluster of blue-uniformed freighter crew strolled by, laughing. As we passed Berth Nine, Ren added, “An attempt was made to take the ship, two hours
past. The Diligent broke dock. However, I regret that her captain, Nathaniel Milo, is dead.” “Bastards.” Sully’s voice was harsh, bitter. My downcast gaze
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