“If we knew that,” the judge-errant said bleakly, “we would know why she turned coat.”
Blowing up a region of space, even a very local region of space in galactic terms, would do no one any good. In particular, it would make a continued career in art theft a little difficult. On the other hand, Rhehan was determined to wring some payment out of this, if only so Liyeusse wouldn’t lecture them about their lack of mercenary instinct. Their ship wasn’t going to fix itself, after all. “I’ll do it,” they said. “But I’m going to need some resources—”
The judge surprised them by laughing. “You have lived too long in the dustways,” she said. “I can offer payment in the only coin that should matter to you—or do you think we haven’t been watching you?”
Rhehan should have objected, but they froze up, knowing what was to come.
“Do this for us, show us the quality of your service,” the judge-errant said, “and Kel Command will reinstate you.” Very precisely, she peeled the edge of one glove back to expose the dark fine skin of her wrist, signaling sincerity.
Rhehan stared. “Liyeusse?” they asked again, subvocally. No response. Which meant that Liyeusse probably hadn’t heard the offer. At least she wasn’t there to see Rhehan’s reaction. As good as they normally were at controlling their body language, they had not been able to hide that moment’s hunger for a home they had thought forever lost to them.
“I will do this,” Rhehan said at last. “Not for some bribe; but because a weapon like the one you describe is too dangerous for anyone, let alone a rogue, to control.” And because they needed to find out what had become of Liyeusse, but Shiora wouldn’t understand that.
THE WOMAN WHO escorted Rhehan to their ship, docked on the Kel carrier—Rhehan elected not to ask how this had happened—had a familiar face. “I don’t know why you’re not doing this job,” Rhehan said to the pale woman now garbed in Kel uniform, complete with gloves, rather than the jewels and outlandish stationer garb she’d affected in the museum.
The woman unsmiled at Rhehan. “I will be accompanying you,” she said in the lingua franca they’d used earlier.
Of course. Shiora had extracted Rhehan’s word, but she would also take precautions. They couldn’t blame her.
Kel design sensibilities had not changed much since Rhehan was a cadet. The walls of dark metal were livened by tapestries of wire and faceted beads, polished from battlefield shrapneclass="underline" obsolete armor, lens components in laser cannon, spent shells. Rhehan kept from touching the wall superstitiously as they walked by.
“What do I call you?” Rhehan said finally, since the woman seemed disinclined to speak first.
“I am Sergeant Kel Anaz,” she said. She stopped before a hatch, and tapped a panel in full sight of Rhehan, her mouth curling sardonically.
“I’m not stupid enough to try to escape a ship full of Kel,” Rhehan said. “I bet you have great aim.” Besides, there was Liyeusse’s safety to consider.
“You weren’t bad at it yourself.”
She would have studied their record, yet Rhehan hated how exposed the simple statement made them feel. “I can imitate the stance of a master marksman,” Rhehan said dryly. “That doesn’t give me the eye, or the reflexes. These past years, I’ve found safer ways to survive.”
Anaz’s eyebrows lifted at “safer,” but she kept her contempt to herself.
After chewing over Anaz’s passkey, the hatch opened. A whoosh of cool air floated over Rhehan’s face. They stepped through before Anaz could say anything, their eyes drawn immediately to the lone non-Kel ship in the hangar. To their relief, the Flarecat didn’t look any more disreputable than before.
Rhehan advanced upon the Flarecat and entered it, all the while aware of Anaz at their back. Liyeusse was bound to one of the passengers’ seats, the side of her face swollen and purpling, her cap of curly hair sticking out in all directions. Liyeusse’s eyes widened when she saw the two of them, but she didn’t struggle against her bonds. Rhehan swore and went to her side.
“If she’s damaged—” Rhehan said in a shaking voice, then froze when Anaz shoved the muzzle of a gun against the back of their head.
“She’s ji-Kel,” Anaz said in an even voice: ji-Kel, not-Kel. “She wasn’t even concussed. She’ll heal.”
“She’s my partner,” Rhehan said. “We work together.”
“If you insist,” Anaz said with a distinct air of distaste. The pressure eased, and she cut Liyeusse free herself.
Liyeusse grimaced. “New friend?” she said.
“New job, anyway,” Rhehan said. They should have known that Shiora and her people would treat a ji-Kel with little respect.
“We’re never going to land another decent art theft,” Liyeusse said with strained cheer. “You have no sense of culture.”
“This one’s more important.” Rhehan reinforced their words with a hand signaclass="underline" Emergency. New priority.
“What have the Kel got on you, anyway?”
Rhehan had done their best to steer Liyeusse away from any dealings with the Kel because of the potential awkwardness. It hadn’t been hard: the Kel had a reputation for providing reliable but humorless mercenaries and a distinct lack of appreciation for what Liyeusse called “the exigencies of survival in the dustways.” More relevantly, while they controlled a fair deal of wealth, they ruthlessly pursued and destroyed those who attempted to relieve them of it. Rhehan had never been tempted to take revenge by stealing from them.
Anaz’s head came up. “You never told your partner?”
“Never told me what?” Liyeusse said, starting to sound irritated.
“We’ll be traveling with Sergeant Kel Anaz,” Rhehan said, hoping to distract Liyeusse.
No luck. Her mouth compressed. Safe to talk? she signed at them.
Not really, but Rhehan didn’t see that they had many options. “I’m former Kel,” Rhehan said. “I was exiled because—because of a training incident.” Even now, it was difficult to speak of it. Two of their classmates had died, and an instructor.
Liyeusse laughed incredulously. “You? We’ve encountered Kel mercenaries before. You don’t talk like one. Move like one. Well, except when—” She faltered as it occurred to her that, of the various guises Rhehan had put on for their heists, that one hadn’t been a guise at all.
Anaz spoke over Liyeusse. “The sooner we set out, the better. We have word on Kavarion’s vector, but we don’t know how long our information will be good. You’ll have to use your ship since the judge-errant’s would draw attention, even if it’s faster.”
Don’t, Rhehan signed to Liyeusse, although she knew better than to spill the Flarecat’s modifications to this stranger. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”
The dustways held many perils for ships: wandering maws, a phenomenon noted for years and unexplained for just as long; particles traveling at unimaginable speeds, capable of destroying any ship lax in maintaining its shielding; vortices that filtered light even in dreams, causing hallucinations. When Rhehan had been newly exiled, they had convinced Liyeusse of their usefulness because they knew dustway paths new to her. Even if they hadn’t been useful for making profit, they had helped in escaping the latest people she’d swindled.
Ships could be tracked by the eddies they left in the dustways. The difficulty was not in finding the traces, but in interpreting them. Great houses had risen to prominence through their monopoly over the computational networks that processed and sold this information. Kel Command had paid dearly for such information in its desperation to track down General Kavarion.