We see you, Salomen had said all those ninedays ago.

  She had to appreciate the irony.

  36

  Tlahana Station

  Given the increasing ease of their connections, Ekatya was barely surprised when Lhyn suddenly appeared next to her command chair while they were docking at Tlahana Station.

  “I always wanted to see this,” she said happily. “Stupid Fleet rules about civilians on the bridge during operations. Wow, your display is spectacular.”

  A quick smile was all Ekatya could offer in response, mindful of the twelve officers within easy hearing distance in the two lower rings.

  “I didn’t realize the station was this big,” Lhyn continued as they neared their assigned dock at the end of a pylon. “Then again, I didn’t see much the last time I was here.”

  The unwelcome reminder was a splash of cold, oily water. Lhyn had been brought to Tlahana Medical unconscious and badly injured, her body struggling with the damage from torture and too many contraindicated drugs. She had departed in far better condition but still confined to a gurney, never once seeing the majesty of the immense station.

  “It’s good to come back this way, don’t you think? Both of us here, together. I wonder if we would have figured out how to control our link if you hadn’t been forced into such creative thinking?”

  She risked a short nod.

  “Eventually, maybe. But I doubt we’d have managed it yet. Alejandra would never have accepted the risk to you if my life weren’t hanging in the balance. The healers on Alsea still don’t know enough about Gaian brains to manage something that delicate. Without the chemical intervention, we wouldn’t have known what was possible. Maybe Kane Muir did us a favor in the long term.” She winced at Ekatya’s glare. “I didn’t say we should thank him. But I’d rather find things to appreciate than wallow in the shit I can’t change.”

  “Well done, Lieutenant Scarp,” Ekatya said crisply. “I think you beat your record for closest approach. Fire mooring cables.”

  The bridge erupted into the flurry of activity that accompanied every docking. They needed to monitor the cable attachment and tensioning, hook up the umbilicals, test the seals—the checklist was long, and Ekatya wasn’t needed for any of it. Instead, she watched Lhyn find immense pleasure in an operation she had long since taken for granted.

  “You’re right,” she murmured once the docking was completed and her officers were moving from their stations. “It would have taken much longer. You might not know how to be here now, and I’m glad you are.”

  Lhyn’s bright smile made the risk of speaking worthwhile.

  At the request of the station commander, who wanted more details on the pirated icebox, Ekatya was the first off the ship. The familiar corridors of Tlahana Station acquired a new feel with Lhyn gliding beside her, entertaining herself with her invisibility.

  They were in one of the smaller spokes that led to the central hub when a large group of station workers came toward them, filling the corridor from one side to the other. Though Ekatya’s uniform gave her right of way, she had never been one of those officers who would force others to step aside. A few steps took her to the wall, where she paused by a large viewport and only then realized she was alone.

  Lhyn was still out in the middle of the corridor, watching the group approach.

  The workers closed the gap, an older man in the lead walking straight through her as she whooped in delight. Soon she was surrounded, a head higher than the people streaming past. She pinched her nose shut, waved one hand over her head, and dropped to vanish from view. Then she surged back up and began an exaggerated breast stroke.

  Ekatya could not stop herself from grinning like an idiot. Several of the passing workers responded in kind, enjoying her good humor despite having no idea of its source.

  Lhyn continued to swim.

  By the time the last straggler went by, Ekatya’s grin threatened to blind unsuspecting victims and Lhyn was laughing.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen! My favorite book was about a scientist who made herself invisible and became her world’s greatest thief.”

  “Do I need to worry about you carrying contraband off the station?”

  Lhyn passed her hand through the bulkhead as they resumed their walk. “If only I could interact with physical matter. Still, this is literally a dream come true. It was the invisibility I loved, not the thieving part.”

  “Let me guess. You fantasized about being able to observe new cultures without being seen.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “This is my dream come true, too.” Ekatya nodded at a passing ensign who saluted the uniform and then gaped, recognizing her. “I always wanted to bring you back to see Tlahana the right way. But it was never safe for you.”

  “See? Invisibility. That scientist had the right idea.”

  “Stealing?”

  “Right idea, wrong application.”

  “That could probably sum up ninety percent of Protectorate politics.”

  “Captain Serrado?”

  Stifling her groan, Ekatya stopped and turned. “Ensign.”

  The young woman jogged up. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but, um—” She scratched the back of her neck. “I just wanted to say that you’re my hero.”

  Startled, Ekatya could only stare.

  “Greve doesn’t represent all of Fleet,” Lhyn said quietly. “He only makes you think he does.”

  “I’m sorry, Ensign . . .” Ekatya glanced at her name tag. “Bokamoso. You’ve caught me by surprise.”

  “I know, you’re probably on your way to a meeting where you decide the fate of the galaxy.” Folding her hands together, she gave a self-conscious laugh. “And I know you don’t have time for someone like me, but I’ve—Seeders, I’ve dreamed of meeting you. When I tell my club, they’ll go nova.” Her hands fluttered to her hips, then behind her back. She was like a young Lieutenant Kitt, all tight curls and restless energy.

  “Your club? Do I want to know?”

  It was all the encouragement the ensign needed. “Oh! There are five of us. We formed a study group as cadets and now—we just never stopped, I guess. They teased me about my crush when you were reassigned to Director Sholokhov, but I had the last laugh when you got the Phoenix. I knew you’d come out on top.”

  Lhyn folded her arms with a smirk. “A crush! How adorable.”

  Ensign Bokamoso seemed to have heard her own words at the same time. A small squeak escaped as she covered her mouth.

  “It’s all right, Ensign. I take it as a compliment.” Ekatya found it impossible not to smile at this earnest young woman. “And I appreciate your faith in me.”

  “Of course I have faith, you’re the greatest captain in Fleet! The Serrado Spin? I can only dream of having a battle tactic named after me. You had one of the best records in Fleet before you took out a Voloth invasion group single-handedly. You saved an entire planet! My stars and asteroids, you’re the reason the Alseans are free. Well, you and your bondmate.” She beamed. “Ha! Yang is going to be so jealous. He has a crush on Dr. Rivers. He’s in xenobiology, but he swears if he’d read her book earlier, he would have chosen anthropology instead.”

  “I like this club,” Lhyn announced. “Bright young minds and impeccable taste in role models.”

  “Dr. Rivers will be proud to know she inspired someone in the next generation of scientists,” Ekatya said. “Insufferably proud, I’m sure.”

  “Hoi. That was uncalled for.”

  Ensign Bokamoso looked as if she’d been given a promotion. “You said ‘will be.’ You’re going to tell her? Yang will die.”

  “But at least he’ll die happy,” Lhyn said. “Get his com code, will you? Let’s make these kids’ year.”

  Ekatya pulled her pad from its sleeve pocket. “I’ll make you a deal, Ensign. Give me your com code and your friend’s, and Lhyn and I will send something. If your club is full of scientists and skeptical ensigns, they’ll need proof before they go nova.”

  “Oh my stars! Thank you!” She ripped the pad from Ekatya’s hand as if afraid the offer would be rescinded and entered the codes in a rapid blur. Handing it back, she grinned so widely that the corridor illumination might have increased. “This is phenomenal! I’m so glad I talked myself into saying something. I wasn’t going to, because you deserve your privacy, but—” She gulped. “But I’ll shut up now and let you be on your way.”

  “I’m glad you talked yourself into it, too.” Ekatya pocketed the pad. “It’s made my day to have a reminder that not everyone disagrees with my decision at Alsea.”

  Her eyes widened. “Everyone I know backs you. I mean, we hear about the ossified admirals who don’t, but they’re two generations out of touch. None of my friends think it’s good for Fleet to punish a captain who did the right thing. Yang and I, we’re planning to make admiral someday. When we do, look out.”

  “I believe you.” Ekatya held out a hand. “It was good to meet you, Ensign.”

  The corridor grew even brighter. “It was a dream to meet you, Captain.”

  “You realize she’ll never wash that hand again,” Lhyn said, watching the ensign practically dance down the corridor.

  Ekatya chuckled. “What are you planning to send your admirer?”

  “I don’t know yet. But it’ll be fun to think about while I wait for you to come home.”

  They passed out of the spoke and into the great central hub, where floor-to-ceiling viewports offered spectacular views of the station’s pylons stretching into space. Ekatya stopped at one that overlooked the Phoenix’s pylon and tried to take in every detail for Lhyn’s benefit.

  “My stars and asteroids,” Lhyn said. “I’m adopting that phrase, by the way. But what a scene! Why are you all the way out at the end?”

  “Tlahana was built before Pulsar-class ships were a twinkle in a ship designer’s eye. It’s why docking here is such a hassle. All that activity you saw on the bridge? That wouldn’t happen at a place like Quinton Shipyards. We’d glide in and everything would snap into place. Here, we have to get creative with attachments that are made for smaller ships. And the only place we fit is out there at the end.”

  “But you make it work.”

  “We always do.”

  “That could be your motto,” Lhyn mused. “Make it work.”

  “Make it work right,” Ekatya corrected.

  “I thought that went without saying.”

  They took a lift up several decks, then passed through a corridor of service shops and into the administrative area. This was a restricted part of the station, with narrower corridors and lower ceilings, and everyone wore Fleet uniforms.

  “I see why you feel at home here,” Lhyn said, dodging a lieutenant who had snapped to attention as Ekatya passed. “The rest of the station is like a floating city. Big, open spaces full of civilians. This is more like a ship.”

  “Does that make me hopelessly Fleet? Sometimes I wonder if I’ve lived so long in this culture that I don’t know how to be normal.”

  Lhyn snorted. “Normal? You’re in a six-pointed bond with two aliens. You’re talking to me mind to mind over a distance of half the quadrant. The leader of an entire planet is trusting you to protect her people. Nothing about your life is normal.”

  “That wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for.”

  “Every culture defines its own version. Do you know how to be normal on Gaia? I’d say yes. When we go back to visit your grandparents, you fit right in.”

  “For a while.” She couldn’t imagine living there again. It was wonderful to visit, but . . .

  “And you’re learning how to fit in on Alsea. Which has a dramatically different definition of normal than any culture I’ve studied.”

  “That’s the truth and a half. Maybe that’s why I’m so comfortable there, even when I feel like an outsider.”

  “You won’t always feel that way. It’s simple exposure, tyrina. You’re only there a few days at a time, like a parent who sees her children twice a week and wonders why they keep surprising her. It’s not you. It’s your schedule. When that changes, so will the rest of it.”

  “I’m ready for that schedule to change,” Ekatya admitted. “I hate being away from you. From all of you. It feels wrong.”

  “It is wrong. You’re a tyree; you’re supposed to be here. What you’re doing, no tyree has ever done. Andira says it shouldn’t even be possible. I told her you don’t tend to listen when you’re warned something is impossible. And thank the stars for that, or I wouldn’t be alive.”

  “Maybe we should thank Fahla for it,” she said, only half joking.

  They had arrived at the station commander’s office, where Lhyn remained silent as Ekatya presented herself and waited. The normally loquacious aide was oddly reserved today, offering formal greetings and none of the usual questions about where she had been and what she had done.

  Ekatya understood why the moment she entered the office and found the station commander absent.

  “It was worth staying the extra day just for that look on your face,” Director Sholokhov said genially. He gestured toward the two guest chairs across the desk. “Have a seat, Captain Serrado.”

  “Fucking stars.” Lhyn sat next to her. “You weren’t kidding. He’s scary.”

  Ekatya flicked her hand to the side and hoped the message was clear. Taking on Sholokhov would require all of her attention; she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  “I hadn’t heard about your demotion,” she said.

  He smiled. “I’ll admit one thing. You were right when you said I might appreciate your honesty. There’s not another person in the Protectorate who would use an insult as an opening gambit with me.”

  “Actually, that was a joke, but I wouldn’t expect you to recognize one.”

  “Now that is an insult. You’re coming in with all weapons loaded, I see. There’s no need. I merely wanted to ask you about the icebox.”

  “Don’t tell me you came all the way here from Gov Dome for that.”

  “I had other business in the sector. But I did stay to speak with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is the third icebox in a month.” He crossed his hands atop the desk. “You called the pirates ‘restrained’ in their actions. Why would you say that? They spaced the entire crew.”

  Ekatya ticked off the points on her fingers. “No rapes, no assaults, no physical injuries other than bruises and abrasions from restraining them. Except for the captain, but his wounds were from a fight. He wasn’t held down and beaten. Those pirates had a purpose, and it wasn’t to steal ice or amuse themselves. They didn’t dally. It was an efficient operation, designed to neutralize the crew, dump the cargo, and get that ship back into base space before anyone could respond.”

  “And? Anything else out of the ordinary?”

  She hesitated.

  “Go on. I know you don’t put everything into your reports. You’re focused on facts.” He leaned forward. “But my job is to assemble the pieces, and for that, I need all the details. Not just the ones you can prove.”

  It was an odd thing, she mused. She was facing her most dangerous antagonist, yet she felt better talking to him than to Greve. At least Sholokhov respected her abilities, even while he strove to put her down.

  “I’m not convinced they were pirates,” she said.

  “I’m not either. What’s your reasoning?”

  “They were too good at post-transition recovery. They came out of base space and were operational faster than some Fleet crews. That requires a significant investment in training. But the part that’s been sticking in my mind is that they flew off in formation. On a covert mission, in an area where there were no other ships within an eight-hour radius. There was no reason to fly in formation except that it’s what they’re used to. That means they have a military background.”

  “Pirates are always recruiting ex-military.”

  “For an entire squadron?”

  He steepled his fingers. “Valid point. I recognize that this is conjecture, but sometimes that’s exactly what we need. It’s not only Fleet that depends on the experience of its officers. Protectorate Security does as well. You should have included this in your report.”

  “My current supervisor does not encourage conjecture,” she said flatly.

  “Your current supervisor is an inflated gasbag who is underperforming already low expectations. That’s why I proposed replacing him with you. Along with your promotion to rear admiral, of course.” His lips twitched. “I do enjoy striking you speechless.”

  She was certainly stunned. Sholokhov didn’t propose things; he made them happen and announced it after the fact.

  “I thought you didn’t meddle in Fleet personnel choices.”

  “I told you I don’t meddle in the minutiae. This would be a major personnel choice, impacting the security of the Protectorate.”

  “Why wasn’t Greve’s placement just as major?”

  “Because that was about controlling you. This would be about freeing you. I trust you understand the strategic difference.”

  She had not expected him to baldly confirm what everyone in Fleet refused to admit.

  “I know I’m in a cage,” she said. “It’s refreshing to hear someone finally say it.”

  “If you thought Fleet would let you go merrily on your way with an alien influence embedded in your brain, you’re even more naive than I gave you credit for. Of course you’re in a cage. You’re an unknown risk. I had a way to mitigate that risk, free you, and get what I wanted, all in one easy move. Your patron put a stop to it.”

  “You offered my career in exchange for high empaths.” She shook her head. “Is that why you stayed here? To throw this in my face? I know it wasn’t about the icebox; you could have called me for that.”

  “It was about both, and I’m merely informing you that Lancer Tal isn’t the friend you believe she is. I offered her a good deal. A very good deal, where everyone walked away happy, and she turned me down. At first I thought it was a negotiating tactic, so I gave her time to think about it. My second offer was received with the same disdain as the first.” He sat back with a scowl. “That means I was working with faulty intelligence. I believed you had a special value to her. You don’t. You’re useful to her, as you are to me. When the price was too high, she threw you off the deck.”