of sense. There’s one loose end, however ... What are the Sheen waiting for? Why don’t they attack?
Veera felt a momentary sense of warmth. Her father had praised her in similar fashion—and she missed his proud approval. It was a good question, and the answer was self evident. For her at least. “There’s no way to be sure— but the Hoon may be programmed to wait. To see if the Thraki will run.”
“Yes!” ChienChu exclaimed. “That’s it! The Runners held sway for a long time—but the Facers came to power. The Hoon is waiting for Andragna to bolt... to start the whole process over again.”
“Except that he won’t bolt,” the teenager theorized. “Not this time.”
ChienChu remembered the twins and felt a chill run down his spine. Was this the moment for which the weapons had been intended? A standoff like the one the Thraki found themselves in? An opportunity to stop running and make a new home for themselves? It seemed all too possible. His mind continued to race. “Does Jepp know about this?”
“No,” Veera chirped, “he shows little to no interest in anything beyond his fantasies. The only time he has participated in anything even vaguely political was when Hoon number one tricked him into terminating Hoon number two.”
“ ‘Hoon number two?’ “ ChienChu demanded. “There were two of them?”
“Yes,” Veera agreed, “that was before my time, though.”
Two Hoons and two energy weapons. It made perfect sense. Still another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “So,” ChienChu reasoned, “Jepp knows how to deactivate the Hoon?”
Veera felt surprised. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Yes, I suppose he does.”
Then we should pay him a visit,” the industrialist said grimly, “and discuss the art of murder.”
Chapter 18
Sir Winston Churchill
The Second World War
Standard year 1948
Planet Arballa, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
The horn made a long mournful sound as the procession left the heavily guarded chamber where the twins had been stored—and wound its way through the ship’s passageways toward launcher 12. There were eighteen individuals in all. The entire party wore the so-called dark vestments normally reserved for funerals and moved with the deliberate slidestep reserved for the most solemn of occasions. The twins were cradled in specially designed polehung slings, each supported by four ceremonial robots, and guarded by members of the Brother-Sisterhood of Assassins High Priestess Bree Bricana led the processional her self—but did so with a heavy heart. Unlike most of the population, she had seen the footage captured on the Friendship and heard the good sister’s claim. In response to orders issued by her, the best scholars in the armada had delved into the records, scoured them for information, and reported their findings. Though couched in academic jargon and hung with qualifications, their conclusions were clear: Somehow, someway, mistakes had been made. The commonly accepted translation was wrong. Sister Torputus was correct, and the twins were inherently dangerous. So dangerous that Bricana now questioned their use. In fact, knowing what she knew, the priestess wished she had left Andragna in the dark.
But it was too late for second thoughts—and the decision had been made. Without an alliance, and faced with superior numbers, the Thraki had no choice. At least one of the twins would be summoned from its long sleep and sent against the enemy.
The horn groaned and sounded like a death knell.
Jepp lay on his badly rumpled bed, knees drawn to his chest, face to the bulkhead. Alpha had arranged for the lights to be dimmed and stood in a comer.
ChienChu entered the compartment and took a look around. Jepp was a mess—that much was clear. How to proceed? Sweet talk the exprospector into a state of cooperation, assuming such a thing was possible? Or jerk the miserable piece of shit out of his bunk and force him to comply? Not the way he normally worked—but there’s a time and place for everything.
The cyborg walked over, took hold of Jepp’s collar, and jerked the human off his bunk. The exprospector hit the deck with a thump and yelped with pain. “My shoulder! You hurt my shoulder!”
