“You shouldn’t be this tense so soon. Are you getting unusual emotional exposure?” The air prickled with realization. “Is this because of me?”

  “Partly,” Rahel said truthfully. “But you feel much calmer now.”

  “I am.” She offered nothing else.

  After a minute of silence, Rahel stopped waiting and let herself sink into the physical relief of her treatment.

  “Thank you for not asking. In the medbay.”

  “You didn’t want me to.” Her voice was slow and soft, fading along with the rest of her body.

  A gentle touch drifted over her forehead ridges, lightly rubbing each one from her hairline to the bridge of her nose. “You Alseans are impossible to be around sometimes. I can’t keep a damn thought in my head without you seeing. And then there are times like this, when you make it so easy.”

  “We can’t sense thoughts.”

  “You might as well. But I appreciate that you didn’t push me. I couldn’t talk about it then.”

  It had been three days since the test. Rahel had visited her the morning after and been horrified by the state of her emotional signature. If she was still that bad after a night of recovery with Colonel Micah, it must have been truly terrible.

  “I’m sorry it was so hard for you,” she said.

  “Hard. That’s a word for it. I don’t ever want to experience that again. But it did give me more insight into you.”

  Her eyes flew open. Dr. Wells was watching the scenic program on the wall display while her fingers moved with the sureness of long practice.

  “Salomen didn’t—she couldn’t have—”

  “No.” She looked down then, her brows furrowed in surprise. “Sainted Shippers, you just turned into a plank of wood. Relax. Salomen didn’t hurt me intentionally.” She slipped a hand beneath Rahel’s neck and began a gentle massage. “I only meant that a few seconds of having my will taken away gave me a new understanding of your experience. Although there’s one aspect I don’t understand at all. I have no idea how you broke free.”

  “He was arrogant,” Rahel said. “He forced me to stay, but he didn’t think to force me not to fight. He never saw me as a threat.”

  “That explains. Salomen forced obedience. When Ekatya told me to stop, I couldn’t have moved if my life depended on it.” Her fingers shifted higher. “I do like your short hair. It makes this easier.”

  “It makes everything easier. Dr. Wells, it took a lot of courage to do what you did. I hope you know that.”

  “Is it courage if it’s rooted in ignorance? I’m not sure I’d have agreed if I’d fully understood.”

  “You would have,” she said with assurance. “Because Captain Serrado asked you.”

  “Hm. What does that say about me?”

  “It says you know Greve is watching her. You know how few options she has.”

  The massage stopped. “How do you know about that?”

  “He called me into his office two days ago and ordered me to scan her during that travesty he calls a check-in. To tell him if she was lying.”

  Through their skin contact, she felt the full brunt of the anger that blew through the room. Dr. Wells growled a curse in her own language, and Rahel had been friends with her long enough to recognize a scatological reference that would make a dockworker blush.

  The explosion abruptly reversed direction, condensing to a vibrating point of suspicion.

  “Wait a minute. When did you say that happened?”

  “Two days ago, why?”

  She let her head fall back with an exasperated groan. “That woman! And she never said a word. Caretaker, ha.”

  “Um. Should I ask?”

  “No.” She resumed the massage, lips compressed in a tight line. “Greve’s a bigger fool than I thought if he believed you’d obey that order.”

  Rahel smiled up at her.

  “What?” Dr. Wells asked.

  “Cox and Lokomorra had to ask what I did. You knew.”

  “I know you,” she said simply. “And I see you’re already sniffing out the senior officers who have gotten involved. Serrado doesn’t want you wading in this sewage.”

  “I keep hearing that. But I’ve seen this before.”

  “When?”

  “Shantu trapped Lancer Tal by invoking an ancient law. She had to meet him in that challenge or forfeit her title. Greve is doing the same thing, using your legal system to cage Captain Serrado.” She paused while Dr. Wells shifted to a scalp massage. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. I could have prevented it all. I knew those orders were wrong. Everything about it was wrong. But I shoved down my doubts because he was my oath holder.”

  “And your father.”

  She nodded. “All it would have taken was a trip to the nearest AIF office. If I’d told them the Prime Warrior ordered a kidnapping, it would have ended before Lancer Tal was put in danger. Sometimes—” She tilted her head, giving better access. “Sometimes I think that’s why I fell so far. Because Fahla gave me a choice, and I made the wrong one. I won’t do that again.”

  “Rahel . . .” Dr. Wells stilled her massage. “I’m only beginning to understand Fahla’s teachings, but I don’t think she punishes people for making the wrong choice. What does happen is that choices have consequences.”

  “Maybe,” Rahel conceded. “I still won’t do it again. Lokomorra was talking about how some people can’t do the right thing because they have too much to lose. For me, it was the opposite. I lost everything because I didn’t do the right thing. I know Captain Serrado doesn’t want me involved, but it was too late for that the moment Greve gave me that order.”

  Dr. Wells heaved a great sigh, resignation flowing from her fingertips as they renewed their motion. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said in frustration. “With Shantu, I had the power to stop it. I don’t have any power here. Greve has all the rules on his side. Lokomorra told me who’s involved, and I can’t do any of the things they’re doing. I think I might have to be the last resort.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Rahel readied herself. “If I had to physically incapacitate Greve, what would be the best way to do it without causing damage?”

  “For the love of flight!” Dr. Wells pulled away, eyes wide with the shock that reverberated off her skin. “Are you insane? I’m not kidding, have you gone completely out the airlock? You can’t assault an admiral! You’d be shipped back to Protectorate space for court martial and imprisonment!”

  “I’m not in Fleet. And there’s no extradition agreement in our treaty.”

  She clapped a hand to her face. “You looked it up. Wonderful.”

  With her treatment clearly ended, Rahel sat upright. “If I acted in defense of Captain Serrado, Lancer Tal would never let them take me.”

  “Serrado would be obligated to throw you in the brig. An extradition battle might feel different if you’re already trapped on the wrong side.”

  “Then I’d need to figure out a way off the ship.”

  “Rahel.” Her voice cracked; she was truly frightened. “I don’t think you realize the kind of power that would be coming after you for a stunt like that.”

  “It might not be necessary.” It hurt, sensing the distress she was causing, but she had to push forward. “But if it is necessary, who else would do it?”

  “Stars above, I’m surrounded by noble idiots.” Dr. Wells glanced upward, her jaw tightening. “I’m not telling you a damned thing. I won’t enable your self-destruction.”

  “I’m not eager to destroy myself, either. Not after everything it’s taken to recover my honor. I promise it would only be as a last resort.” She captured Dr. Wells’s hand and held it tight, wishing she could share her emotions and convey how critically important this was. “When I was in Greve’s office, I sensed more than distrust and dislike. He hates her. This is war to him, and she’s the enemy. I think there may come a time when she’ll be in danger. If that happens, I can’t sit on my hands like a merchant with no wares. I won’t let her be helpless.”

  Something shifted in their skin contact, a flare of deep, instinctive comprehension.

  “Helpless,” Dr. Wells murmured. “Without any ability to change the outcome.”

  She nodded, afraid to speak aloud.

  Dr. Wells blew out a long breath. “I know what you need.”

  32

  Stress relief

  Vellmar looked up at the sound of the back door opening. Lancer Tal emerged, now dressed in her running clothes, and trotted down the wooden steps. Swishing toward them through lush grass in need of cutting, she offered a broad smile. “Ready?”

  “We’re ready.”

  After more than a cycle and a half , Vellmar had this routine down to a science. Lancer Tal used running as both stress relief and a way to work through thorny problems. She expected all of her Guards to be ready to run on short notice, and woe betide any who failed to keep up: despite her small stature, she was fast and tireless. Vellmar had underestimated her on their first run together. She had never repeated the mistake.

  With a hand motion, she sent two of her warriors to the front and two to the back. They would keep a respectful distance, close enough for protection but far enough for privacy, while she ran beside the Lancer. It was both her duty as Lead Guard and a cherished opportunity.

  Since the memorable day when Lancer Tal apologized to her, their relationship had changed to something approaching friendship. It showed in all of their interactions but never more so than on their runs, when Lancer Tal became more approachable, was quicker to laugh, and frequently revealed personal depths that were otherwise kept hidden.

  They moved as one, swinging out in an easy jog. Runs normally started at a slow pace to warm up their legs, but here at Hol-Opah it was a necessity. The house was situated atop a steep-sided hill; descending that slope at full speed was never advisable. Lancer Tal had done it once after a sharp argument with Salomen, boiling off the hilltop and tripping twice as she pelted down the slope. Vellmar’s heart had been in her mouth as she followed, terrified that the Lancer would break a leg or worse on her watch.

  Today’s descent was leisurely and a good deal safer. Lancer Tal was in a bright mood, having flown out from Blacksun to join the Opahs in their day off. After Salomen’s swim party with Herot yesterday, Shikal had decreed today a family holiday and left the holding in the hands of their field workers. All five Opahs were at the waterfall, picnicking, sunbathing, and swimming.

  They reached the bottom of the hill and picked up speed, now on a grassy access road between a field of grain on the left and horten on the right. Though the horten wasn’t yet knee high, it already had the distinctive scent that made Vellmar think of fine meals and candlelit evenings.

  “You could have flown straight there,” she said.

  “I could have. But then I’d have missed a good run.”

  “They’re swimming. It’s not as if you’d miss out on exercise.”

  Lancer Tal gave a dismissive huff. “It takes all of fifteen strokes to swim across that plunge pool. I’d be swimming laps from now until sundown to get a decent workout.”

  “You’re assuming they’d let you swim unimpeded. Jaros is there,” she pointed out. “I’ve got fifty cinteks that says he’ll be on your back before you make it halfway through the first lap.”

  She savored the easy laugh. These days, she took the Lancer’s relaxation as seriously as her safety. Hearing a laugh like that meant her oath holder had already let go of the day’s stress.

  “No bet. How is Lanaril doing? I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.”

  “She’s working too hard. Sometimes I want to slam the temple doors closed and tell people to solve their own damned problems.”

  “If you try that and it works, come to my office and slam those doors shut, too.”

  Vellmar imagined irate Councilors lining the corridor outside the Lancer’s office, shouting and waving their reader cards. It might be worth an attempt just to see it.

  “She’d never allow it. But her retreat starts next nineday. A whole nineday for her to be nothing more than a worshiper, in a temple that’s not her own. I think I’m looking forward to it as much as she is.”

  Lancer Tal cast a startled look in her direction. “Great Mother, I forgot you were leaving.”

  “I’ve put everything in place. Senshalon is taking over as acting Lead Guard. You won’t even miss me.”

  “Don’t sell yourself for a bargain price. I’ll miss you. I know when I’m outranked, though.” She paused before adding, “Lanaril said she’s never taken anyone with her on a retreat before now.”

  “Not even her ex-bondmate,” Vellmar acknowledged. “She needed the time away from him, but she doesn’t need it from me. The benefit of working different schedules.”

  “Did you say that to her?”

  “No, but it’s obvious. We don’t spend enough time together to get tired of each other.”

  “Selling yourself for a bargain price right after I told you not to? It’s about the quality of time, not the quantity. Her bondmate added to her burdens rather than taking them away. You give her what she needs.”

  “That’s the part I’ll never understand. All she needs is a little comfort and care after she’s spent a day caring for others. It’s not an effort.” She was perennially mystified by a man she had never met, who had held Lanaril’s love and lost it through sheer negligence. “The retreat sounds ideal for us. I’ll have mornings to do what I want while she’s in prayers and meditation, and we’ll have afternoons and evenings together. Has she shown you images of the view from our room?”

  “From your room, from the refectory, from the observation platform on the Ridgeline Trail . . .”

  Laughing, they rounded the edge of the horten field and headed south toward the Silverrun River. Ahead was the linear forest that followed the river all the way through Blacksun Basin.

  “What did you learn from the settlers today?” Lancer Tal asked.

  “Not a great deal more. I think they’ve taught us all they can. I wish there was just one officer among them.”

  “It would be helpful, but we cannot wish for what we don’t have. Rax and the others don’t need to be officers to know a ship’s layout—”

  “Most of it,” Vellmar interrupted, something she would only do on a run. “There are areas they couldn’t go. Such as the bridge.”

  “That’s an important one,” Lancer Tal conceded. “But if all goes well, Salomen will be there long before you. I can tell you what to expect.”

  They reached the trees and turned east to follow the trail along the riverbank, passing from one world to another. Behind them lay open, sun-drenched fields; ahead was a narrow, shady trail winding through leaf litter beneath ancient trees. The air was abruptly and profoundly different, trading pungent horten and dry soil for damp loam, decaying leaves, and the rich scents of a wild river.

  “I’ve been wondering,” Vellmar ventured. “You said Captain Serrado confirmed that the Voloth are coming, but not when. Yet our preparations have felt more . . . urgent. Do you know something?”

  “Not for certain. It’s guesswork, but Captain Serrado agrees with it. So does the Director of Protectorate Security.” She paused while they jogged up a short but steep set of steps cut into the slope. Once the trail leveled out, she continued, “Put yourself into the mind of your opponent. You threw an entire invasion fleet at a backward race and lost every asset except your ships. You came expecting to exterminate and enslave and were slaughtered instead. The defeat toppled your government and cost your treasury untold amounts.”

  Vellmar focused on delicate footwork as they traversed a section of trail rumpled and riven by tree roots. “I’m shocked by the loss,” she said. “We’ve been set back several cycles. Once the shock wears off, I’m angry.”

  “Good. Now you’re in the new government that took power. Your economy is suffering, your people are demoralized by the worst defeat they can remember, and you need to prove that your government is better than the one you replaced. What would be the easiest way to do that?”

  “A successful strike against the enemy that defeated the last government,” she said promptly. “But why now? Why not a cycle from now, when they’ve had more time to replace their assets?”

  “Because winning isn’t enough. Remember, you were defeated by a technologically backward race. It shouldn’t have been possible. You were embarrassed.”

  “Revenge, then.” She leaped over an old, decaying log, while Lancer Tal’s shorter legs meant she had to jump to its top and off the other side.

  “Exactly. Now extrapolate that.”

  “I want revenge,” Vellmar mused. “I want to win, but that’s not enough. So I want . . . I want to punish the people who embarrassed me. Humiliate them.”

  “You’re on the right path. Keep going.”

  “I can’t invade again, it’s too high risk. It has to be something I can do from orbit. Which means the space elevator, but we already knew that. So what changed?” She nearly tripped over a tree root as the answer came. “They’re waiting for us to finish it, aren’t they? Like the school bully waiting for a child to put the last block on her tower before knocking it all down.”

  “Well done. Maximum demoralization, maximum loss of investment, and maximum time lost before we can reach the same point again. Not to mention a bloody nose for the Protectorate.”

  “But that’s hardly more than a moon from now!”

  “We’ll be ready. The war council and the builder caste were prepared to delay completion of the space elevator, but it hasn’t been necessary. Salomen’s test was successful. Our shuttles have passed every test with all flags flying. You and Ronlin have reached the point of diminishing returns with the settlers. Candini has learned the capabilities of our pilots and how we can work with Fleet pilots. We’re not the naive target we were three cycles ago.”

  “Shekking Mother,” Vellmar groaned. “I’ll have to tell Lanaril.”