sufficiently manned to patrol it as thoroughly as we would like.”
He gave her a smile. “I understand. But please continue.”
She seemed heartened. “Let me send you the documentation we have on it.”
A few second later, Valerian and Starke were watching a poor-quality hologram.
They watched in silence as the somewhat battered Wraiths folowed the Valkyrie, took a scan, and listened to the two pilots express their annoyance in colorful words at having been tricked. More colorful words ensued as they realized another vessel was moving out of the debris field and into open space. The Wraiths turned to folow, but the system runner they were folowing had made it to a clear place and had subwarped to who knew where, and who realy cared, and it was time for lunch anyway.
“I hope that was helpful, sir.” The woman was slightly pink, realizing, as she knew he had to, that it hardly painted security in a particularly inspirational light.
“It may wel be. Thank you.”
Unable to continue smiling politely, Valerian thumbed off the switch and scowled.
“We almost had them. If my father staffed these places with inteligent people rather than lazy buffoons, we would have.”
Even as he said the words he knew they were unfair. A government that had the luxury of staffing remote space junkyards with top-notch staff by definition would have far fewer problems than the Dominion had.
He sighed and turned to Starke. “The question is, where would they go next? There are hundreds of places in this sector alone they could hide.”
Starke nodded thoughtfuly. “In the … the link, for want of a better word, I managed to sense a little something of this protoss that’s using Professor Ramsey. Of course, it is much more adept at hiding its thoughts and feelings than even the best-trained ghost is, because it’s a protoss. But one thing I did get was a trace of annoyance at the links being utilized, and a hint of concern. Dahl was right. The protoss didn’t just force itself into Professor Ramsey’s brain for amusement or as part of a normal cycle.
It did it because it felt it had to. So, knowing this, my best guess is that the protoss would want to rejoin its people. And look at this.”
Starke pressed the rewind button and again they watched the hologram. He paused it at one point. “Look at where the system runner is heading.”
“It leaps, Devon; we can’t folow it if we don’t know its destination.”
“True enough. But think about what we know of human nature. You’ve been discovered, you know where you are heading, you make a run for it—sily as it might sound, even if you’re planning a jump—wouldn’t your first instinct be to flee in the right direction?”
Valerian smiled slowly. “Yes. Yes, it would be.” He caled up a star chart of the galaxy and smiled. “Of course. They’re heading for Aiur.”
CHAPTER FIVE
AS JAKE HAD KNOWN IT WOULD, AIUR HAD PROSpered under Adun’s guidance as the executor of the templar, which managed to be strong and yet not heavy-handed. Directing the templar to the will of the Conclave, Adun had overseen the settling of several colonies that were thriving and content. Any disputes with other races that had broken out had been quickly quelled with few casualties to the pro-toss. It was a good time to be alive.
Jake entered the executor’s citadel, which was a small, private retreat that hovered gracefully above Antioch. He found Adun in deep contemplation, wearing the heavy purple, black, and white robes of his office, staring out onto the cityscape below. In the distance, the lush green and blue hues of the rain forest softened the line of the horizon.
Jake inclined his head deeply, respectfully. Adun turned from the view and repeated the gesture.
“You sent for me, Executor?”
Adun nodded. “Yes, Vetraas. I have been called in front of the Conclave. It seems they have some information they wish to impart.”
Curiosity flickered in Jake, but was quickly
He gave her a smile. “I understand. But please continue.”
She seemed heartened. “Let me send you the documentation we have on it.”
A few second later, Valerian and Starke were watching a poor-quality hologram.
They watched in silence as the somewhat battered Wraiths folowed the Valkyrie, took a scan, and listened to the two pilots express their annoyance in colorful words at having been tricked. More colorful words ensued as they realized another vessel was moving out of the debris field and into open space. The Wraiths turned to folow, but the system runner they were folowing had made it to a clear place and had subwarped to who knew where, and who realy cared, and it was time for lunch anyway.
“I hope that was helpful, sir.” The woman was slightly pink, realizing, as she knew he had to, that it hardly painted security in a particularly inspirational light.
“It may wel be. Thank you.”
Unable to continue smiling politely, Valerian thumbed off the switch and scowled.
“We almost had them. If my father staffed these places with inteligent people rather than lazy buffoons, we would have.”
Even as he said the words he knew they were unfair. A government that had the luxury of staffing remote space junkyards with top-notch staff by definition would have far fewer problems than the Dominion had.
He sighed and turned to Starke. “The question is, where would they go next? There are hundreds of places in this sector alone they could hide.”
Starke nodded thoughtfuly. “In the … the link, for want of a better word, I managed to sense a little something of this protoss that’s using Professor Ramsey. Of course, it is much more adept at hiding its thoughts and feelings than even the best-trained ghost is, because it’s a protoss. But one thing I did get was a trace of annoyance at the links being utilized, and a hint of concern. Dahl was right. The protoss didn’t just force itself into Professor Ramsey’s brain for amusement or as part of a normal cycle.
It did it because it felt it had to. So, knowing this, my best guess is that the protoss would want to rejoin its people. And look at this.”
Starke pressed the rewind button and again they watched the hologram. He paused it at one point. “Look at where the system runner is heading.”
“It leaps, Devon; we can’t folow it if we don’t know its destination.”
“True enough. But think about what we know of human nature. You’ve been discovered, you know where you are heading, you make a run for it—sily as it might sound, even if you’re planning a jump—wouldn’t your first instinct be to flee in the right direction?”
Valerian smiled slowly. “Yes. Yes, it would be.” He caled up a star chart of the galaxy and smiled. “Of course. They’re heading for Aiur.”
CHAPTER FIVE
AS JAKE HAD KNOWN IT WOULD, AIUR HAD PROSpered under Adun’s guidance as the executor of the templar, which managed to be strong and yet not heavy-handed. Directing the templar to the will of the Conclave, Adun had overseen the settling of several colonies that were thriving and content. Any disputes with other races that had broken out had been quickly quelled with few casualties to the pro-toss. It was a good time to be alive.
Jake entered the executor’s citadel, which was a small, private retreat that hovered gracefully above Antioch. He found Adun in deep contemplation, wearing the heavy purple, black, and white robes of his office, staring out onto the cityscape below. In the distance, the lush green and blue hues of the rain forest softened the line of the horizon.
Jake inclined his head deeply, respectfully. Adun turned from the view and repeated the gesture.
“You sent for me, Executor?”
Adun nodded. “Yes, Vetraas. I have been called in front of the Conclave. It seems they have some information they wish to impart.”
Curiosity flickered in Jake, but was quickly
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