"Then what?"
"That's where we run into a wall, sir. I can't figure it. They knew. So they sent another Seeker. Him. He's been out ever since. And he's found several Lost Children. Near as I can figure, the Traveler they were on got hit by pirates. Methane-breathing Outsiders had something to do with it."
"Curioser and curioser."
"There was a methane breather on their Traveler. Some of the human passengers grabbed the bridge and stopped the ship on the Web. Another ship came. It brought more methane breathers and a crew of humans and aliens. They boarded..."
"On the Web?"
"Yes. They boarded but didn't do anything till the Presence arrived. Then they started killing people. When they started on the children, though, they made them stop. I don't know how. Seeker isn't a storyteller. He stated facts. If he doesn't, I can't follow him."
WarAvocat glanced at the alien, engrossed in watching one of its own do nothing. "How did our Lost Child get to Merod Schene?"
"I gather the children cooperated as long as the pirates didn't hurt them. So the pirates abandoned them one by one, on outbacks like V. Rothica 4. They couldn't talk, didn't know how to survive in a DownTown, and were kids. Solution to a problem."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"From context, shortly after the Enherrenraat crisis."
"That long ago?"
"They're functionally immortal. They don't die from natural causes. The tape is done. He's upset."
"Find out what you can."
He gave up trying to follow the exchange, reflected on fate's penchant for hatching villains. This phantom phantom pirate bunch might be the most bizarre yet. And ambitious, if they were behind the ambush.
He punched up data delivered in response to an old query.
No known, suspected, or rumored connection between any House and pirates. On the other hand, most Houses indulged in smuggling.
"Sergeant. Was it chance he was on the Cholot Traveler same time as that methane breather?"
"No. He heard the thing had entered Canon space. He made arrangements to get onto the same Traveler."
He heard the methane breather had entered Canon space? How? And after missing the Lost Child on V. Rothica 4, later, suddenly, six hundred light years away, he knew she was in trouble? How mental could you get?
The soldier said, "He's very agitated, WarAvocat."
"I noticed."
"This particular child is about to go through a transition from adolescence to young adulthood. That's sudden and traumatic and could kill her, or worse, if there isn't an adult there to guide her."
"Or worse?"
"That's what he said. He says he's got to hunt her down before the crisis comes."
"Uhm?"
"They go through life stages. Like insects. Only more stages. The early stages they can handle alone. He says they can delay the final transition consciously as long as they stay in control of themselves. But if she was under stress and retreated inside herself—which she did—she might not be able to hold the change off."
"He wants to look for her?"
"With our help?"
"Want to go along?"
"Shit! I knew it would be a fucking when it came."
"Sergeant?"
"Sorry, sir. I am a Soldier."
"The idea doesn't appeal?"
"No, sir. I've been away as much as I want. The trip was interesting but I didn't enjoy it."
"I thought it might be a way to track the others I mentioned. One is the Ku warrior Kez Maefele. You might examine his war record."
"Yes, sir."
"For now, learn from Seeker. He'll cooperate because that's his best chance for finding his Lost Child."
"Yes, sir."
"That will be all. Don't talk to anyone. I'll get back to you."
"Yes, sir." She started trying to make the alien understand that they were supposed to leave. It did not want to go.
"Complete information on the Other's stay with us is available in his quarters, Sergeant."
That did it.
WarAvocat arranged that, then leaned back. The thing to do next was obvious, if unpleasant. He had to visit IV Trajana personally.
— 69 —
Valerena surveyed six identical versions of herself. A little unnerving, looking at all those Valerenas. Only they were not exactly Valerena anymore, were they?
To work up a proper Other, you had to put time into the details, especially motivation and indoctrination. But she was always so damned busy.... Face it. She did everything half-assed. These were her six best Others, but she had no idea how they would jump if a shitstorm hit.
She fixed her attention on viewscreen and controls. The shuttle's inertial system was up to max. The escape and evasion programme was poised to zag out on the first shot. On screen, the Guardship filled the entire field. Its surface seemed worn, abraded, even scruffy. It made her think of old, old stone, barren except for patches of lichen.
She thought the thing looked unhealthy.
The comm kept squirting a semi-hysterical, "We come as friends" message. There was no response, but there was no shooting, either, and the shuttle was well inside the traditional killing radius.
The color of fear is brown. Those old farts on the Directorate were dribbling it down their legs. After this none of them would dare say anything about her courage.
Only a few kilometers now.
She was soaked inside her EVA suit. Her hands trembled. What was it Simon had said about the day he and Lupo had taken the House? "Going in with assholes so tight you couldn't drive a nail up them with a sledge." She knew what he'd meant.
She was having trouble breathing, gobbling air in gulps. Her suit cautioned her against hyperventilation.
She exploded in one of those goofy laughs that had become her father's trademark. She understood that now, too. It bled the tension.
She glanced at her Others. Buttoned up the way they were, she could read nothing.
Eyes to the screen. Still nothing from the Guardship. It was not showing lights. Wait. To the left there, just above her line of approach. A bay door had opened.
That was message enough.
She laughed again before forcing trembling hands to make course adjustments and switch on forward lights. A fighter nest. She made out a dozen pursuit ships. Like the Guardship, they looked neglected.
Nothing but ominous shadows moved in there.
She eased the shuttle in, rotated it to face outward. Like she really expected she could make a quick getaway. The bay door closed. Fifteen centimeters of armor, proof against any weapon the shuttle carried.
No Tregesser had come this close. In this she had outshone Simon already. "Just the beginning," she promised herself. "Grab it by the horns and ride it."
Shuttle said no atmosphere was being released into the bay. She swallowed a big dry egg.
No turning back.
One of the Others cycled the personnel hatch.
"Better take hand torches," someone suggested. Not only was there no air, there was no light.
"Right." Take charge. Do something. "Full kit. In case the whole dammed thing is this way."
She had asked Lupo to brief her. He had given her a big nothing.
He divided Guardships into four kinds: Normal (thirteen units), Strange (four units, including I Primagenia and XII Fulminata), Weird and Deadly (three units, II Victrix, IX Furia, IV Trajana), and Insufficient Data (all the rest, including VI Adjutrix). Based on its current behavior, he suspected VI Adjutrix was Weird and Deadly.