Abram probably used it, too. The Lancastrian ambassador on Haladea III ordered Gippian shellfish for functions.
“I sent Han on this mission, Lord Renaud,” Vega said.
Renaud sagged. Physically and emotionally. Through the lines it was a long, slow, gray relief. Someone should test Renaud Han for line ability.
“So it is a job? He’s safe?”
Vega didn’t answer that. She turned to Ean. “The team went down with a cargo of shellfish. One of them might have recognized it as a potential escape route.”
Radko would even if no one else had.
“Did they get off Redmond?” Ean asked. The most important question.
“I’m not sure yet. But the ship manifest doesn’t show any problems.”
“Don’t you know?” Based on what Renaud had told them, he would have asked, and if Gunter Wong was such a friend, he’d have told him.
“Yves hasn’t contacted me,” Renaud said. “If he’s on a job, I can’t compromise him by calling him up.”
Surely it was too late to think of that now. “Where did the ship go after it left Redmond?”
Renaud paused, and the lines reluctantly deflated. They really should test his line ability.
“Aeolus.”
Ean had never heard of Aeolus two weeks ago. Still, the Worlds of the Lesser Gods was friendly to Lancia. Wasn’t it? So why wasn’t Radko back by now?
He glanced at Vega. She was scowling at him. She might have given Radko and her team more than one task. Who said they weren’t off doing their job?
“I’ll see how far Bach got investigating what happened.” Vega called Sale. “Group Leader. Arrange secure accommodation for Lord Renaud on Confluence Station.” Then she said to Renaud, “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you.”
Ean said, after Renaud had left, “You know Bach wasn’t doing anything. Except damage control.”
“Damage control. It’s an odd phrase, don’t you think.” Vega frowned. “I wonder if Bach had an operation of his own on Redmond, and our people got in the way.”
“Don’t you talk to each other?”
“Of course we do, but there are always secret ops.” She glared at him, as if he were to blame, but Ean was used to the Vega glare by now. That was her normal expression. “I’ll find out.”
She started for the door, paused. “I almost forgot. We still don’t know about this top secret project Linesman Glenn was working on, but we did find out that House of Sandhurst recently signed a big contract with TwoPaths Engineering to supply more linesmen for them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: DOMINIQUE RADKO
Radko came around to the sound of two people arguing. They were speaking Standard, but one had the distinct uptrill of a native Redmond speaker, and the other had flatter tones she didn’t recognize.
“I’ve told you before, Commander Martel. No more than two tranquilizers per person. It’s dangerous,” the Redmond speaker said.
“I’m not putting my crew in danger because your crazy linesmen won’t board a shuttle, Dr. Quinn. Argo’s got scratch marks down his face that will need regen.”
“Two tranquilizers would have been enough.”
Radko couldn’t move her arms or her legs. She’d taken at least three tranquilizers herself. Would it wear off? She tried to open her eyes. Couldn’t do that either.
“We had to get them out fast,” Martel said.
“We didn’t need to go at all. You caught everyone.”
Was her team all right? Were they immobilized like her?
“The lab was compromised. You know the rules. Especially this close to culmination. And remember, this is two weeks after someone stole your report.”
“It wasn’t my report they stole.” But Quinn’s tone became more reasonable. “Even so, taking them onto a space station. You know they hate that.”
The slight vibration and the murmur of the air supply had been so familiar Radko hadn’t realized they were in space. By the sounds, she was on a shuttle.
“They hate everything and everyone.” Martel brushed past Radko. She tried to open her eyes again. Still couldn’t.
“Any luck?” The voice was directed close to her.
“Nothing.” A third voice, as flat as Martel’s. Something dropped onto a surface nearby. “Two comms. Neither of which I can read; they look new. A knife in her boot. An arsenal around her waist, sourced from all over the galaxy. A lot of credit in chits.”
The sleeve brushed her again. “This comms looks remarkably familiar.”
Radko wanted to be Ean, who didn’t need his eyes or ears to see through the lines.
“Redmond military property. It strikes me, Dr. Quinn, that your people are very loose with classified information.”
Yet Martel didn’t have a Redmond accent. Was he part of TwoPaths Engineering? Or part of a third group they didn’t know about?
“You’re supposed to be protecting us.”
“We’re supposed to, Quinn? Wasn’t your government doing that? And they’re doing a good job, too, as we can all see.” From the sudden extra loudness in his voice, Radko knew he’d turned back to look her. “Do you think this one’s the leader?”
“I’d guess,” said the man who, presumably, had emptied her pockets. “She’s got one of Bergin’s fake entry chits, but I can’t ID her until we crack her comms.”
“She’ll be Lancastrian.” Martel sounded confident. Radko wished she could see him. “Look at her face.”
There were benefits to looking like a relation to the Crown Princess of Lancia but disadvantages as well. The disadvantages outweighed the advantages.
“Why would they be so stupid. We’ve agreed—”
“You heard Bach’s call the other day. That guy’s father. Only they said he was on Redmond.”
Bach wasn’t a common name on Lancia. The only Bach that Radko knew was Sergey Bach, Emperor Yu’s head of security.
Renaud Han had called someone to get Han out of Redmond. What if he’d called Bach? Why would Bach call these people?
“What else did we find?” the officer asked.
“Comms on the other two.”
So two of them had been caught. Which two?
She couldn’t do anything for the moment, so she lay and listened. This drug immobilized the muscles but didn’t immobilize the mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: EAN LAMBERT
Radko could take care of herself. Ean knew that, and he knew that hitching a ride on a ship guaranteed to deliver a cargo was a smart thing to do. A very Radko thing to do. She was fine.
He wished she’d call, though, and let them that know she was. Except according to Vega, if she called, it meant something was wrong.
The clock in his room showed 03:17 when he finally admitted he wasn’t going to get to sleep and made for the fresher. Maybe he’d sleep after a shower.
He listened to the lines and let the water flow wash over him. Ships on both fleets were calm. Except the Lancastrian Princess, which was edgy.
Captain Helmo was awake, sitting back in the captain’s chair on the bridge, fingers pressed together, doing his captain’s equivalent of listening to the lines.
Helmo and Ean had discussed it. Helmo didn’t hear anything.
“It’s all gut feel, Ean.”
“But you must hear something,” Ean had protested.
“Instinct, Ean. You know when something is not right, or something needs to be done. It may not even be to do with the lines. Maybe it’s experience. Someone doesn’t react the way I expect them to, or a ship noise is slightly off.”