It was true. Charity had gone under an assumed name in Galactic Council space, so it was no surprise changing it again hadn’t rocked the boat. Dr. Hadlez’s alterations to her facial structure had been subtle but had rendered a definite change in her appearance. Despite that, she’d been more fascinated by the narrower nose, slighter chin, and less defined cheekbones than taken aback, much to the physician’s relief. “It’s temporary, remember, easy to return to normal when it’s safe to do so,” he’d damned near pleaded before letting her see what he’d done.

  The lenses changing her eyes from hazel to deep blue had been slightly unnerving, but Charity had coped decently. But the final ingredient of her transformation had overwhelmed her.

  Though her curves had gotten the most attention from admirers through the years, it was her hair she loved best. Its color and thickness matched her mother’s, and Charity had worn it to her midback and simply styled as Faith had, in a tribute to the parent who’d been taken from her too soon. To see it lightened and shaped in lovely but unfamiliar waves had felt like renewed loss. Thanks to such hair framing her altered face, Charity could no longer see the woman who’d given her life.

  “It’s a lot to adjust to,” Selt agreed as they approached an official fleet shuttle, which would take Charity to what she referred to as Planet Farm Hell. “I wish we could have come up with a different solution.”

  She drew a breath. Be a grownup. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I really do. I hope I haven’t seemed ungrateful.”

  “You’ve taken it better than many would, so don’t worry. If it were me, I’d be ripping stuff apart.” He paused as they reached the shuttle and took out his com. “Special guest coming on board. Clear the entry.”

  “Acknowledged.” After a second, the deep voice on his com spoke again. “You may board.”

  Selt climbed the few steps to the open hatch ahead of Charity. “All clear. Come on up.”

  She did so and entered a small space. On either side of her were closed doors One led to the cockpit and the other, the passenger cabin.

  She offered her hand to Selt. “Thanks again. Take care of my aunt and uncle.”

  He shook her hand, then bowed. “We will.”

  She hesitated before adding, “If it isn’t too mushy for a Nobek, tell my sister I love her when she checks in or decides to stop roaming the galaxy.”

  He chuckled. “I think my pride can handle passing along your message.”

  He handed her the small carryall containing her most needed essentials. Her travel bin had already been loaded, or so she’d been told. Heaven help the shuttle personnel if her luggage went missing. She’d lost enough already.

  “Safe travels,” Selt said.

  Charity nodded. She unpinned the chevron-shaped phase device from her blouse. She dropped it in his waiting palm.

  Selt, still phased, disappeared the instant the device left her hand. The door to the main cabin opened as its sensors discovered her presence.

  She turned to it and stepped in the passenger area. It was large, but besides a couple of bowing fleet attendants, only five people, all Kalquorians, occupied the space.

  Plenty of room to spread out. In her depressed state of mind, she should have been relieved by the option to keep her distance from fellow passengers. She’d considered going to her sleeping cabin to hide for the three-day journey. But a member of the group was young…not merely young-looking as Kalquorians tended to be even in their forties and fifties…but truly young. Somewhere around her age, she was certain.

  He was handsome as well, veering toward cute.

  She tried to keep her glances at the man casual as she handed off her carry bag to a Nobek attendant who said he’d take it to her sleeping cabin. “You’re free to sit wherever you wish. We’re taking no additional passengers,” he informed her.

  She smiled acknowledgment, thanked him, and let her gaze dart to the eye candy. He was watching her. Was he an Imdiko? Or a Dramok? Dramok, she decided. His regard was too direct to be anything else. He had an injured air that subtracted slightly from an aura of control, which was what had initially confused her as to his breed.

  The Kalquorian woman sitting next to him, curvier than the scant few of her kind Charity had seen, glanced at the young guy, then Charity. Her black brows rose.

  Uh oh. Mom’s scented a potential rival for her baby boy’s attention. Charity repressed a smirk as she drew nearer the group. Her polite expression got harder to maintain when the woman pointedly glared at the elder man seated on her opposite side, who was definitely an Imdiko.

  He didn’t bother hiding his grin but stood as the rest of his clan and his supposed son did too. The men bowed to Charity as she came to their seats, two rows of three facing each other.

  “Matara, are you traveling alone?” the older Dramok asked as he stood his full height of at least six-and-a-half feet. “Please join us if you’d like. I’m Dramok Codab. My clanmates, Matara Diju, Imdiko Jadel, and Nobek Gruthep. And our son.”

  The handsome-going-on-cute man smiled warmly at her, vanquishing the aura of hurt and rendering him gorgeous. He stepped in the aisle and indicated she should take his seat as his Imdiko father and mother moved over…both beaming at her. “I’m Dramok Ilid. Here, sit next to Mother, Matara—?”

  “Jennifer Seng,” she said, barely remembering in time to use her assumed name. “Thank you, but I hate to impose—”

  “Not at all!” Diju enthused. “Sit right here next to me. Ilid can sit on the aisle seat; he doesn’t mind. How nice to have someone close his age for him to talk to during this long trip to Haven…how old are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Twenty.” Charity took the offered seat, and they sat too.

  “Lovely. Ilid is twenty-three, so you’re bound to have lots in common.”

  Not a jealous mom after all. A mom eager to matchmake, perhaps dreaming of grandkids. “You’re going to Haven?” None of them looked the farmer type.

  “I own a few bakeries on Kalquor. I’m thinking of expanding. If Haven looks promising, my son will supervise the new shop,” Diju said. “He’s an excellent baker himself and wants to expand his management skills.”

  Definitely a matchmaker and pouring on the salesmanship. Charity wasn’t sure if it was an improvement over the kind of mother for whom no woman was good enough for her baby chick. Since Ilid was easy on the eyes, she was willing to learn how much fun he might be.

  His smile told her he didn’t mind his mom talking him up. He must like what he sees, Charity supposed, and was reminded her appearance wasn’t what it had been. Would he have been better attracted to the old her?

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Jennifer.” The warmth in Ilid’s gaze quieted the twinge of upset she wasn’t herself.

  “And you, Ilid. A baker, you say? I love a guy who can cook. Did you bring anything I can sample?” She poured on the innocence in her tone and smile to keep from affronting his parents with the innuendo.

  A gleam in his regard told her he’d picked up on her hint. His smile broadened. The trip to Planet Farm Hell was beginning to look up.

  * * * *

  Galactic Council Space

  Kila paced the quarters his clan had been assigned to. Part of him marveled at the size of the room, far more spacious than his clan’s quarters on his spyship, which currently sat in a repair dock in Kalquorian space. A man could actually move around.

  Hope had grumbled about the smell, but Kila rather enjoyed the animal-like musk. He also appreciated the drain in the middle of the attached lavatory, which doubled as a toilet…something else Hope strenuously objected to. “Who does their business in the damned shower?” she’d yelled when she learned how the facilities worked.

  I’ll buy her an Adraf-fur scarf if I can find a seller. It’ll help her cope better.

  For now, however, most of his mind puzzled over the fight they’d had at the orphanage. “I reviewed the footage we recorded of the battle at Mymah. The Darks aimed a few shots at the fighters and shuttles, but they mostly left them alone. They concentrated on firing at the spyship. A few warships could have blasted a number of the smaller vessels, then joined in the attempt to take us out. They didn’t bother.”

  “For which I’m grateful. The children got away safe. I have no complaints.” Piras stretched on the large sleeping mat that had been provided for the clan, relaxing for a change. He’d voiced no criticism when it came to the smell or the facilities. He seemed perfectly content at the moment.

  “I’m not complaining either. I simply wonder why they wouldn’t have gone for the easy targets. It’s as if they took our turning and daring to fight them personally.”

  “They should have. I took them attacking the orphanage personally.” Lokmi scowled at his computer, set on a table scrounged up for their use. He was checking the specs on the vessel they’d hitched a ride on. He was content when it came to their quarters, but he’d been pretty judgmental about the inefficient engines. He was hoping to talk his way into the engineering department and “fix this ridiculous bucket that has no right to call itself a ship,” as he’d put it.

  Her nose wrinkled, Hope listlessly stirred a cup of coffee. “I bet they were insulted. From what I heard from the prisoners we captured from the first squad that showed up at Open Arms, the Darks have insanely huge egos.”

  “I’m not sure I approve of you communicating with those things,” Kila griped. “Just because you can hear them in your head doesn’t mean you have to talk to them.”

  “We could learn important stuff, such as how to stop them in their tracks, if I can get them to admit a weakness.”

  “Have you begun studying the interrogation protocols I sent you?” Piras asked.

  “Yeah. Pretty icky stuff when I think of using them against humans, Kalquorians, or most of our allies…but against the Darks, I’m all for it.” She suddenly stood and went to the closet in the far wall. She rummaged through her travel bin until she found the light cologne she wore. She spritzed the air.

  “You’ll get used to it. You won’t even notice the smell in a day or two,” Kila told her.

  “That’s what you swore two days ago. I still feel as if I’m sleeping in a barn.”

  “Tell me more where the Darks’ egos are concerned, my Matara. Do you believe they’re self-absorbed enough for us to use it to our advantage?” Piras sat up, relaxation fleeing in favor of finding his enemy’s weaknesses.

  She considered. “The All thinks it’s superior to every other life form. Hell, it’s in the name it gave itself, isn’t it? Only a raging narcissist would say, ‘I’m the All.’ The Darks think of themselves as the All too…we Separates are abominations as far as they’re concerned.”

  “What of the message you received from their dimension? From the entity that assumed your appearance? Did you ask the captured Darks about it?” Kila asked.

  “I did, and they shut up quick after a moment of angry squawking. I only caught a single word…other. Or maybe the Other, like it’s a capitalized name or title? They refused to share telepathic messages afterward, but I got the idea they aren’t pals with whomever shares their dimension.”

  “The All and the Other. Huh.” Kila went back to pacing, musing over the miniscule clue…if it were a clue.

  A voice buzzed through the room. The entire clan alerted as it spoke. “Admiral Piras, Captain Kila, we have a visual on Jedver if you and your experts would care to join me on the bridge.”

  Piras was on his feet in an instant. “Thank you, Captain. We’ll be there momentarily.” He made no attempt to call their host by name…it was beyond Kalquorian or Earther capabilities to pronounce.

  “Let’s see what’s out there.” Kila noted how slow Lokmi was to leave his computer. He doubted it was solely because his clanmate was so intent on updating their host ship.

  They traveled the corridors of the massive cargo freighter. They met no one on their way to the ship’s brain center. The captain had been very careful to hire only crew he swore whose loyalty could be bought…at quite a high price, to hear Piras talk. It was a small crew, the members of whom Hope and Lokmi had viewed via vid to verify they hadn’t been taken over by Darks.

  What the hell. The money paying Clan Piras’ way and the transport crew’s silence had come from the empire’s treasury, not their personal pocketbooks. Kila refused to worry about Kalquor picking up the tab for their latest mission.

  The group stepped onto the cargo vessel’s bridge. Hope wrinkled her nose for a moment at the thick woodsy smell of fur, then smoothed her expression. The smiling captain, a rust red Adraf, boomed a hearty greeting. “Nice to see you again. Please, come in, come in.”

  Kila glanced around, curious. He’d never been on board an Adraf craft before. The dark, vast space was a maze of glassed-in cubicles, within which the three-legged crew stood at tall podiums. The long-necked Adrafs wore visors, through which they peered. Tiny vestigial arms waved styluses at what Kila guessed were virtual reality screens.

  Piras focused on their host. “No issues thus far from the Galactic Council fleet?”

  The captain’s furry muzzle wrinkled back from large gray teeth in the Adraf version of a smile. He spread his small hands in a careless gesture. “What’s to excite their suspicions? Adraf has declared itself neutral, as we always do when worlds go to war. This is a normally scheduled delivery to Jedver’s transit space station of staple goods. We’re engaged in lawful commerce, and I have the proper documentation, which they’ll find in perfect order. Your, uh, experts—” he nodded to Lokmi and Hope “—vetted and approved my crew. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m glad. I don’t have to repeat our agreement for your crew’s benefit?” Piras glanced at the Adraf personnel. None had acknowledged their presence, at least as far as Kila could tell. The visors hid their eyes.

  “They’re well aware. A second generous payment upon your safe return to your home space, including a bonus doubling whatever the Galactic Council offers should they suspect we have guests on board and try to buy our information.”

  Piras nodded, his taut jaw relaxing slightly. “Excellent.”

  “Would you like to see what you came to check on?”

  “Please.”

  “Vid monitor, display magnified view.”

  Planet Jedver, seat of the Galactic Council of Planets, swam into view on a large holoscreen at the far end of the bridge. Kila had visited it on half a dozen occasions. To him, it looked no different than before: a blue-hued terrestrial world. A seemingly serene jewel in the black setting of space.

  He’d angled himself so he could observe the planet and his clanmates at the same time. Piras had also assumed a similar pose. After a cursory glance at Jedver, his gaze trained on their Matara and Imdiko. Kila was also focused on the pair as they stared to the side of the world in order to see any Dark presence in their peripheral vision.

  Big, muscled Imdiko and tiny pixie human wore identical stunned expressions, making them appear shockingly similar for the space of a second. Shouting an oath, Lokmi twisted away. His arm clutched his midsection and his hand clapped over his mouth, as if he were on the verge of being sick. Hope slammed both hands to her face hard, covering her eyes. She wailed, though Kila was unsure if it was from the pain of hitting herself or horror.

  The Adraf captain gaped at their reactions. His earlier merriment had vanished. He looked from his passengers to Jedver’s image and peered at it intently.

  “What? Is it the same thing we saw at Bi’is or something else?” Piras demanded.

  “It’s huge,” Hope sobbed from behind her palms. “It’s so insanely huge.”

  “Chief,” Kila boomed to Lokmi. “Report. How big are we talking?”

  The Imdiko turned stricken eyes to him. “I can’t see Jedver. The Dark is blocking the entire fucking planet, Captain. The planet, the stations and moons orbiting it, and beyond. It fills the whole vid image.”

  “It’s the All,” Hope moaned. “It has to be the All itself, and it’s swallowed Jedver.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alpha Space Station

  “Stacy—”

  “Let me see her, Ken,” Stacy ordered Bryant on the audio com. She sat stiff at the edge of the lounger in Clan Rihep’s quarters. Rihep, Kuran, and Etnil sat next to or stood behind her, staying in contact, offering their silent support.

  “All right but remember…she’s held out longer than those who’ve been as sick as her. The doctors are hopeful she’ll turn the corner at any moment now.”

  Stacy had heard from the doctor leading the fight for her sister’s life. He had said the same, almost verbatim. His optimistic tone had been as false as Ken’s.

  “Okay. I’m in the room, right outside the isolation bubble. She’s surrounded by a lot of machines. They’re having to oxygenate—”

  “Ken.”

  He sighed. “Sending visual.”

  He was right. There were a lot of machines. So many, it took Stacy several seconds to find Toni in their midst.

  When she did, a small, hurt sound burst from her. Then relief. It wasn’t Toni. It couldn’t be. The woman who lay on the medi-bed was too tiny, too wasted to be her vibrant sister. The skull-like visage, the hollowed eyes closed deep in their sockets…no. Ken had gone to the wrong room. It was some other patient.

  Kuran muttered a curse, his hands tightening on her shoulders. Rihep slid his arm around her waist. Etnil’s head bowed, and his black hair swung to hide his face, but there was no mistaking the sob he uttered.

  No, guys. It’s okay. It isn’t her.

  But familiar features were asserting themselves despite the ravages of illness and Stacy’s desperate need to disbelieve. The heart-shaped face, the pointed chin, the high cheekbones…Stacy knew them well, because Toni resembled a younger version of herself. Stacy saw those details in her mirror every day.

  It was Toni.

  Stacy swallowed the agony threatening to choke her. Forcing her voice to be steady, she asked, “Am I on speaker?”