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They had almost reached the door to Ackroyd’s suite when a slender figure disengaged from the shadows. A hand closed down hard on Durg’s chest, stopping his breath and filling him with pain.

“I always seem to be protecting the Doctor from you,” said Isis Moonchild in her delicate wind-chime voice.

From the corner of his eye, Durg caught sight of a gun being raised. His hand lashed out, gripped the barrel, bore it down. The beam cut a ten-inch hole in the parqueted marble floor.

“You abandoned me,” Durg said in a voice so ragged he didn’t recognize it as his own.

“I never meant to.” Soft and sad. “It is probably far too little, and far too late, but I am sorry.” They continued to stand and regard one another for several more moments.

Behind Durg the squad shifted nervously. There was not a telepath among them, so Moonchild was safe from an attack so subtle that even Durg could not sense it. Confusion rippled through his nerves and muscles, fluttered deep in the gut. Protect her? Kill her?

Moonchild flexed her knees, shook back her midnight fall of hair. “If we must fight, let us get to it.” And then she waited. Challenging him to bring the fight to her. Refusing to harm him except in self-defense.

The memory was so strong, it replaced reality. Shone like a waking dream across the shadowed corners of his mind and heart. The Cosmic Pumpkin Head Shop and Organic Deli. Durg wiping down tables. Sprout riding his shoulders, shrieking with delight. Mark struggling to assemble a tofu burger for the lone customer in the restaurant. But what overrode the memory was the emotion it raised. He had been happy there.

The barrel of the laser rifle was still gripped in his hand. Durg ripped it out of the soldier’s hands, swung it up. Firing from the hip, he mowed down the troops clogging the hall behind him. Screams of pain and terror ripped the air. Those left standing put their feet to good use and fled down the corridor. Durg pursued them, sobbing and shooting. Behind him came her quick steps, like a shadow’s dance. He tried to outdistance her… and memory.

“What’s happening?” Jay asked.

“I don’t know.” Tis was peering cautiously into the hail. “There are a number of dead Vayawand soldiers out here.”

“A promising sign,” said Bat’tam.

“I would feel better if I knew who killed them.”

“Any enemy of theirs is a friend of ours. Right?” Jay pushed the door shut again with the stumps of his fingers.

“Far too simplistic an attitude for Takis,” Bat’tam said.

Hastet snapped the flap on a self-heating bottle and handed it to Tisianne, who was pacing and rocking her child. “Personally,” Hastet said, “I’m beginning to feel rather like left luggage. I hope someone comes and claims us soon.”

“But it may be Blaise,” Kelly said.

“We can’t just keep waiting here. If we can get through a gate, we can take our chances in the open country,” Tis said.

“How did you all intend to get out of here had the plan gone as planned?” Hastet asked.

“Take out the defense center. Call in our ships.” Tis slipped the nipple into Illyana’s tiny mouth. Despite the graveness of their situation, she couldn’t help smiling. The baby’s eyes snapped open. There was a very wise expression in those beautiful aquamarine eyes.

“Why can’t you do that anyway?” Kelly asked.

“The defensive equipment is designed to detect genetic markers that are unique to enemy ships. They’ll be destroyed on entry.”

Kelly paced, nervously plaiting a small strand of red hair. “What about captured ships? What do they do to them?”

“Rebreak them and implant an artificial gene marker.”

“So they read like a Vayawand ship?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s call Baby.” For a stunned moment all they could do was stare. Kelly shifted selfconsciously. “I can’t do it alone, but you can coach me, and when she hears you, Doctor, she’ll come running.”

“Can you override her retraining?” Bat’tam asked.

Tis removed the bottle to push back a hanging strand of hair. Illyana registered disapproval with a sharp yelp. “We can but try,” Tis said, and shoved the bottle back into her demanding daughter’s mouth.

It hurt so bad. He had looked back once, realized his leg ended in a charred and ragged stump two inches above the knee. He crawled across the blood-slick floor in search of the missing limb. Maybe if he found it, they could sew it back on. He realized he was delirious. Then he realized he was dying. He wanted to find her before the end. To see if he’d done well. Durg began dragging himself up the stairs. The smell of blood and cooked flesh lay in his throat and threatened to choke him. He laid his head down on the edge of a step. He’d rest just for a minute.

The rattle of boot heels. Durg heaved himself up with a snarl, braced on his knuckles. He stared into the barrel of a rifle.

“No!” Her voice.

Men ran past, thundering down the stairs.

Another voice sang out, “Defense center secured, sir.” Then he added, in a little boy’s voice, “They’re all dead.”

Hands soft and gentle on his face. Durg’s arms were trembling with strain. Moonchild caught him as he collapsed. Blood from the wounds in his back smeared across her jumpsuit.

The perfume of her hair almost blotted the scent of death. “I turned… for you… I turned.”

“I know. Hush, now.” Tears clogged her voice.

“No one… weeps for a… Morakh.” He looked up into that beautiful face. “Grant me… your forgiveness.”

Moonchild nodded, bent, and softly kissed his lips.

How something as big and inflexible as a Takisian ship could wriggle with delight was a mystery to Jay, but Baby was managing. Light flared and coruscated across the whorls and folds of her outer skin. The lavender and amber running lights mounted on the spines of her back were bright enough to throw shadows.

“Go,” Tisianne was saying. “Baby has her orders. She will carry all of you to the neutral station.” Tisianne tenderly kissed the top of her child’s head and laid Illyana in Hastet’s arms. “Let her never forget I loved her.”

“What about you?” Jay asked.

“I must find Blaise.”

“I’m going with you,” Kelly piped up.

Bat’tam cleared his throat. “I have a rather tenuous claim to the heirship of House Vayawand. This seems like a good time to present it. So carry on without me.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but inside that masonry pile people are shooting at each other,” Jay said “I don’t think it’s a real good time to launch a political campaign.” Bat’tam just shrugged apologetically. “Why do you all want to be a bunch of heroes?” Jay concluded on a whine.

“Injured as you are, there is nothing you can do, Jay. Go!” Tis ordered.

Jay hesitated for an instant longer, then Hastet grabbed his arm and dragged him up the ramp. The lock cycled shut and the ship shot skyward.

Jay tottered onto a bench. “Aw, hell,” he burst out suddenly. “They’re all gonna get killed, and we’ll get stuck with the kid.”

There was an air of arrogant insouciance to the wide-open door that rather appealed to Zabb. However insane he might be, Blaise possessed virtu to an extraordinary degree. Single-handedly he had warped the face of Takisian society. Tisianne believed forever; Zabb was hopeful such was not the case.

Then it struck Zabb: the door was an enticement, a spider’s lure, and the trap set for Tisianne. Well, he’s in for a surprise, he thought with satisfaction. Zabb had been surprised at the ease with which he deflected Tis from her pursuit of Blaise, but biology had worked to Zabb’s advantage. The lure of Illyana was too great. And realistically Tis couldn’t stand against Blaise. Zabb believed he could.