I can tell what Rozik’s thinking. If we can get Valhalla out of the system before the banshees show up, we can keep the people here out of harm’s way too. But he didn’t seem to care what happened to them when he brought us here in the first place. Is Yari the reason he cares now? Or does he have something else in mind?

  “That’s to start,” Rozik says. “We also want one million chrome, and your word that if we solve your problem, you’ll owe us assistance solving a problem of our own.”

  “Is this a current problem, or a potential future need?” she asks.

  “Potential need.”

  “How can I agree to that with so little information?”

  “Because it’s the only way you get your station back. The whole station.”

  “I could kill you all right here.”

  “That won’t get your station back either.”

  Amelia stares at us, considering the proposal and the options. Then she sighs and nods. “Very well. You’ll have everything you asked for, if you disable my brother and regain control of the core for me.”

  “By disable, you mean...?” Rozik asks.

  “I’d prefer him alive. But if you must, then you must.”

  “Understood.” Rozik looks over at me. “What do you think?”

  I’m not going to tell him what I really think. That this whole thing is crazy, and this is way outside my general area of expertise. I’m not a spy, spec ops, dark ops or whatever the hell he is, and I don’t really want to get in the middle of this ridiculous feud. It seems to me there’s more than enough riches here to just split in half. The cold hard truth is that we need access to the synchronizer, we need another ship and getting the freighter out of the area is a decent bonus.

  In other words, we don’t have a choice.

  “I think we have a deal,” I say.

  Chapter 17

  “I’m glad we can come to an agreement,” Amelia says. She smiles again. I can sense the nervousness behind the grin. The part of her mind that’s wondering just what she might be getting herself into. Owing a favor to two men she thinks are murderous thieves probably won’t digest all that well.

  “We’ll need equipment,” Rozik says.

  “You’ll get whatever you ask for. I won’t even charge you for any of it.”

  I don’t know if she thinks she’s a gracious host or if she’s being snotty. The statement can go either way. Regardless, she nods to Locke and a moment later the transport is changing vectors again, cruising along the side of the station to return to the hangar.

  “You’re the first meshed pilot I’ve seen on Naraka,” Amelia says, making small talk while we head back in. “And if you still have your needle you weren’t discharged. You ran away. What were you running from?”

  “That’s a pretty personal question,” I reply. “What makes it any business of yours?”

  She shrugs. “I’m just curious what circumstances convince a flyboy like you to abandon ship. I’ve heard being meshed is a pretty intimate experience. Not one that’s given up lightly.”

  “What’s meshed?” Yari asks.

  I think about Joie, and our work together, first against the Commune and then the alien attack. I remember our short time in RAPTUR together. The feeling of oneness and perfect synchronization. That kind of connection is intimate and hard to come by. Not in the way I was intimate with Shae. It’s something different. Something more raw and definitely not sexual.

  I haven’t given up on it. Or her.

  “I lost my dance partner,” I say. “Alliance doesn’t have another. Do you know what happens then?”

  She nods. “At your age, they probably ask you to retire. Am I right?”

  “You are. I’m born and bred a fighter pilot. I can’t just stop being who I am.”

  “I know what you mean,” she replies, though I have no idea what she means by that. “I can’t stop being who I am either. My grandfather raised me to run Naraka with the same firm but generous hand he did. He grew this station from nothing, you know. Forty years ago there was only the core. But he changed things for the better, and now we’re one of the most popular destinations for the displaced inside the Sphere.”

  “Do you know how many ghost planets there are in total?” I ask.

  “No. I don’t think anyone does.” She pauses. “I can think of twelve that I know about. There are probably five times that many. A lot of casualties of this war.” Her eyes soften when she looks at Yari again. “A lot of kids exposed to things they shouldn’t have to endure.”

  I think it’s odd for her to say because she’s helping to enable it. And I almost say as much despite the fact that Amelia’s still in a position to blow my head off. The war isn’t great, and the AOP has its problems, but at least it doesn’t let people sell children into slavery. At least it doesn’t accept murders and thieves as if we’re just good old folk. I was impressed with the station, and especially the commissary. But when I think of how the real money’s being made here it makes me sick.

  “It could have ended twenty years ago,” Amelia continues. “Did you know that? The Commune was so close to seizing the Alliance capital. Once they had the AOP government, it would have brought the entire mess to a stop.” She pauses. “Oh, you might be old enough. Were you there, Grayson?”

  Rozik raises an eyebrow and looks at me. I can hear his internal guffaws echoing in my head. Talk about being put on the spot.

  “No,” I reply. “I was still in the Academy at the time.”

  “I see. How did it feel when Odin Longknife pulled victory from the jaws of defeat? You were almost out of a job.”

  “And you were almost out of a lifestyle,” I reply. “Would there be a reason for places like Naraka in a life where the Commune controls the entire Sphere?”

  “I think there will always be room for places like Naraka. We fulfill a need.”

  “And you’re proud of that?”

  “It’s not about pride,” she replies, a tinge of venom in her response. “It’s about reality. Everything you see on Naraka would happen somewhere else. At least here we have some measure of control.”

  “If you say so.”

  Amelia glowers at me, and I realize I’ve probably taken things a little too far. A heavy tension dangles in the balance, disrupted when the transport touches down in the hangar. She stands up and moves to the hatch to wait for it to open.

  “Locke, make sure Mister Novari and his associate have everything they need to complete their end of our agreement,” she says. “Mister Novari, it was a pleasure meeting you. Miss Yari, talk to Danos at the commissary when your work for these men is done. I may have a position for someone with your aptitude for gathering information.”

  “I will, Miss Rocklin,” Yari says. “Thank you.”

  Amelia doesn’t look at me. I’ve offended her by pointing out the obvious, and I guess she thinks ignoring me is a good way to retaliate. I don’t care if she likes me. If me and Rozik fail, we’re all going to die.

  “Jasper, with me.”

  The other guard stands and moves to the hatch. The small hangar finishes pressurizing and the side of the transport slides open. Amelia hops out, bolting for the door.

  “Is she always like that?” I ask Locke.

  He turns his head, face invisible through the glass of his helmet. I spot something else in the reflection off it though. The pilot’s hand reaching back, holding a pistol.

  “Look—” It’s all I manage to get out before the pilot pulls the trigger. The round has enough KE to get through the back of the headgear and Locke’s brain, but not enough to clear the front visor. It splashes the front of his face against the inside instead.

  Yari screams. I’m already out of my seat, ducking behind Locke’s sudden corpse as the pilot tries to get a clear path to continue the attack. I hear the reports echo in the small space, and I can feel them pushing into Locke’s body as I shove it back. I have a sense of Rozik getting up behind me, grabbing Yari and pulling her down to the floor, standing over her as the rest of hell breaks loose.

  I notice the outer hatch to the hangar open on my right. An entire squad of armed men and women begin rushing in, the familiar flashing light of a PEP rifle flickering three times and dropping Jasper to the deck. Amelia reaches for her gun but she doesn’t make it far, a second pulse rifle hitting her and knocking her down.

  I continue driving forward, grabbing Locke’s sidearm on his hip right before I throw the body at the pilot. He dips and throws his shoulder toward it to shove it aside, and by the time he’s clear I already have a bead on him. My bullets hit him, three in the chest and one in the head, and he collapses forward and doesn’t move.

  “What the hell?” Rozik growls.

  “Close the hatch,” I snap back, stepping over the pilot and trying to reach the transport’s controls. I’m not sure where I’m going to go if I get us out of here, but I’ll worry about part two after I’ve accomplished part one.

  Rozik reaches for the hatch controls, cursing when a shot from a PEP hits his hand. He pulls it away, looking for something, anything he can use as a weapon.

  I drop into the pilot’s seat, looking at the controls. Simpler than the freighter’s, at least.

  “Put your hands up,” someone says behind me. At the same time, three armed thugs move in front of the transport, rifles aimed at the cockpit. I raise my hands slowly, looking back to see Rozik already doing the same.

  “Looks like today isn’t your lucky day after all,” the man behind me says. “Conspiring against the Vice President of Naraka station is a serious offense. Say goodnight.”

  I close my eyes and release a resigned sigh. Damn the fates for their sense of humor.

  The pulse rifle doesn’t make much sound, but I feel the energy burst pass through the suit and into my skin. I’m dizzy for a second, and then my muscles give out and I’m dropping to the deck.

  And then everything goes dark. Again.

  Chapter 18

  I’m not alone when I come to. There’s a guy sitting on a task chair a meter away, wearing a pair of VR gloves and a headset. He’s doing something inside the system, his hands moving as if he’s flipping through data. There’s a guard in the corner near a metal hatch—the only way out of the compartment—like those found on a Navy starship. There’s a woman standing in front of that hatch—dark hair, small face, well-dressed.

  I’m surprised I’m not dizzy or in pain. I know a stun from a PEP can knock someone my size out anywhere from ten minutes to two hours, depending on the power setting. Considering how set up everything is, I’m guessing it’s closer to the latter.

  The woman notices I’m awake. I don’t know if it’s because of my eyes or the change in heart rate on the slab hanging behind me. She smiles at me, more like that of a predator than a display of friendship.

  “I’d ask you who you are, why you’re on Naraka station and why you were plotting with Amelia Rocklin to kill my husband,” she says. “I already know the answer to the first question, but I’m not ready to accept anything more beyond that.”

  I’m slightly confused by the statement. Then I realize the skull cap is gone. I start reaching for the DCI at the same time I notice the terminal the tech is sitting near. My Lucier needle is hooked into it.

  I sigh. Damn the fates. It wasn’t enough to just die?

  “Where did you get that needle?” she asks.

  I look at her, and suddenly realize she doesn’t believe it’s mine. She thinks I stole it. Stole Odin Longknife’s Lucier, even though my face is in the profile. But then, modern tech can do wonders to faces.

  “Listen to me,” I say. “This is very important.”

  I know Rozik doesn’t want me to talk about the banshees. Screw that. We just lost two hours to this garbage, and we have more important things to deal with than join the fight over control of an illegal station.

  “Naraka station is in danger. I didn’t come here to plot with anyone. I have a mission, and I’m doing whatever I have to do to complete it. Your life is at stake, and so is everyone else’s—including the husband you’re so concerned about.”

  The woman listens attentively while I speak. Then she purses her lips. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. You haven’t heard enough of the truth yet to believe me.”

  She smirks. “Suppose you tell me where you got that particular needle and then maybe I’ll believe you.”

  I close my eyes for a moment. I didn’t think she would listen. The fact is, the only way she’s going to believe any of what I say is if everything I say is true. And even then it’s a long shot.

  “It’s mine,” I reply. “I’ve had it in my possession since I was matched and joined the Academy.”

  She stares at me in silence for a good ten seconds. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t blame you. If I was suddenly face-to-face with Odin Longknife after all this time, I would have trouble believing it too. But the data’s all there in the profile, which really is nowhere near as secure as it should be.”

  She’s a thoughtful woman. She doesn’t respond for another ten seconds while she works through the inputs she’s receiving. “We boarded the freighter you arrived on. You have quite a bit of damage to your cargo hold.”

  “We were attacked by pirates after we arrived in-system.”

  “The damage to the hull suggests it came from inside the ship.”

  “I did what I had to do to neutralize the threat. What’s your point?”

  “For one, those so-called pirates were employed by my husband.”

  I laugh out loud. Why not? Of course they were. “Didn’t know, didn’t care. They were trying to take my ship.”

  “It isn’t your ship.”

  “Technically, no.”

  “What happened to the real owner?”

  “Dead on Warrick.”

  “You killed him?”

  “No.”

  “How did he die?”

  “I don’t think you trust me enough yet to believe me when I tell you.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  I hesitate. Take a few breaths. She doesn’t like that.

  “Concocting your story?” she asks snidely.

  “If only,” I reply. “Trying to figure out how to tell you in a way you’ll take my story seriously. I’m not sure I can.”

  “I’m a reasonable person, Odin, if that’s who you really are. Try me.”

  “Ma’am,” the tech says, keeping the VR over his face.

  “What is it, Kratz?”

  “According to his profile, his last assignment was Spindle station, orbiting Warrick.”

  “Either it’s all true, or none of it’s true,” she says. “Which is it, Odin?”

  “Are you sure you really want to hear me out?” I ask. “I don’t really see the point of wasting my breath if you aren’t inclined to believe the truth, even when it’s staring you right in the face. Or Kratz’s face, in this case. When you live among thieves, you forget how to trust anything anyone says.”

  “Actions speak louder than words.”

  “Then go to Warrick, pick up my partner and put us in a Skirmisher. I’ll give you some action.”

  “Just tell me what you did to the prior owner of the Kestrel.”

  I look at her, realization suddenly dawning on me. She knows the real name of the ship, which means... “You knew him.”

  “Intimately,” she replies. “And I want to know what happened to him. You’re going to tell me the truth or I’m going to make it very painful for you.”

  “Rock and a hard place,” I say. “Fine. Warrick was attacked by aliens from beyond the Sphere. They killed him, along with thousands of other people. We only escaped because his ship was there for the taking. We came to Naraka to send a message to the Alliance and Commune militaries. To tell them what happened there and raise a defense before it happens anywhere else.” I pause, looking her right in the eye with the most seriously concerned face I’ve got. “Like here.”

  She stares at me while the seconds tick past. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Kratz pulls off the VR and turns around to look at her. Then she does the last thing I expect.

  She turns on her heel and walks out the door, leaving me alone with the confused tech and the guard.

  “That went well,” I say, looking over at Kratz.

  He looks back at me, staring at me like he’s seen a ghost. There’s fear in his eyes, and a little bit of awe too. He’s terrified because he believes me, even if his boss doesn’t.

  “If it sounds bad, that’s because it is,” I tell him. “Do you know where she went?”

  “Probably to tell Mister Rocklin,” he replies.

  “Amelin, or the grandfather?”

  “Amelin.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “You killed a bunch of his people, and one of Sasha’s friends. And she thinks you’re lying. What do you think she’s going to do?”

  “Right. How come you believe me?”

  “Because I used to be a Specialist in the Navy. Tech monkey. I handled hundreds of needles during my career. Most people don’t know the DCI leaves a mark on the needle after a few years. Almost like a fingerprint. You’ve had this needle a long time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her that?”

  “She would have found another reason not to believe you, or to ask her husband to kill you. You were right. She isn’t interested in the truth. The only truth that matters is hers.”

  “Not a fan?”

  He shrugs. “I’m in it for the chrome, Commander. That’s all.”

  I smile and nod. I understand his position, especially after getting a look at this place. He’s living better here as a former Naval Specialist than he would be anywhere else in the Alliance—if they would let him retire. I doubt he ever expected me to fall into his lap.

  I turn away from him, toward the guard. “What about you? Are you in it for the chrome too?”

  The guard doesn’t respond except to shift his rifle from a rest position to a ready position, pointing it at me.