One question answered. Now to locate Saltāl.
••••••
NYTALYAN KNOCKS ON the door to Saltāl’s quarters. The eye mister does little to keep her moist. The ash seems to dry her skin more.
As enough time passes, Nytalyan steps away from the door only for it to open.
Saltāl drags her inside before she utters a protest.
“It’s too dangerous for you to be here.” He secures the door behind her.
“When did what we’ve done before become too dangerous for me? We’ve been on this path together, and you’ve left me.” She strips off the top half of her uniform.
“You left me.”
Nytalyan marches from the living room. “How did I leave you?”
Saltāl follows her.
“I’ve shared so much with you. You held me when I lost my children.” Nytalyan reaches for the shower controls.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he confesses.
Nytalyan’s hand fails to reach the knob.
“Saltāl, our species’ physicality won’t allow a mating.”
“Love isn’t about mating.”
“It certainly is. No matter how much I care about you and you for me, biologically we could never meet certain needs you’ll have.” She flips the water on. The cracked skin softens under the steaming rain. “I have a biological need to lay eggs.”
“If your feelings are sure, then I know my next choice.” He pulls on a tactical armored vest.
“I need your assistance to deliver our information to Admiral Kantian. Return with me to command.”
“I’ll return with you,” he says.
“We need your Shalenotun rebel contacts to…What happened to your shadow?”
“The Mokarran have revoked the security clearances for many of the Shalenotun. I don’t need to make contact. I have a mission.”
“I need to know when they plan another demonstration. Svetlana says that with such an incident as at the school groundbreaking, she’ll make the transmission undetected.”
“Does she have the data crystal?” He secures the vest designed to protect against a plasma bolt.
Nytalyan notices the vest seems thicker than standard for plasma reflection. Maybe he fears projectiles. “I keep it with me. In the pouch where my children died.”
Saltāl slips on a uniform top.
“I am unable to mate with you,” she says again as an apology.
“Moisten your skin. I need you to get me into Command.” He buttons his top over the vest.
“You never wore armor before.”
“While you’ve been hidden in Command the death of Micah Donkor splintered the insurgents. He held many different political factions in check. Besides the large number of Mokarran supporters, there are an equal number of anti-Mokarran rebels and a third faction who want to run the government for Shalenotun only. Making anyone working for the Mokarran a target.”
“Which group have you chosen affiliation with?”
Saltāl adjusts his uniform, concealing the vest.
“Extreme factions won’t bring down the Mokarran. You’re a part of the propaganda machine. You know the truth,” Nytalyan says.
“I know I’ve stood by while entire planets have been slaughtered and done nothing. On Bea V billions died for standing against them. I observed. Cadon Prime children marched onto the battlefield. The rebels choose slaughter over murdering their own babies. Rubicon IV,” Saltāl says.
“I’ve translated many of those orders. I’ll not escape falling through eternal darkness when I die, but I will die having done all that is possible to prevent a future Bea V.” Nytalyan allows all the water beads to hang on her skin.
“If we report to Command, how much time do you need to slip Svetlana your crystal?” Saltāl asks.
“As long as she’s on duty—minutes,” Nytalyan says.
“Mokarran officials are moving off command to oversee planetary issues from orbit to prevent any attacks on the leadership.”
“Did you get transfer orders?” she asks.
“Rebels intercepted a coded transmission. None of the support staff was to be informed, preventing a planned attack. They suspect disloyalty. Too many of us have interacted with the Shalenotun to remain in trust,” he says.
“They assigned many of us to deal with the citizens to prevent the insurrection.”
“It failed. Mokarran don’t understand the control of the masses won’t keep people in fear forever,” Saltāl says.
Nytalyan takes her uniform from the closet. Once she passes the crystal to Svetlana, she’ll need hours of soaking to restore her skin. Once in the station the artificially-controlled environment won’t destroy her epidermis. “Do we have a time frame? Svetlana doesn’t want to remain in possession of the data long. They shake down her quarters and person randomly since the last attack.”
“If they have lost trust in us since arrival I fear we may be replaced with certified loyalists.”
“BRIDGE DECK,” AMYE orders the lift.
JC slides through the doors before they seal. “Amye, are you okay? Summersun was difficult—”
Amye lifts JC into the air by her throat and slams her against the wall of the elevator. “You’re scanning my thoughts.” Wafts of alcohol blast from her mouth.
JC’s golden headband bounces onto the floor.
She fails to reach the floor with her toes. “I didn’t mean to.” Lying would benefit her.
Most of the choker keeps Amye’s fingers from touching flesh but allows enough skin contact to bridge an involuntary telepathic connection.
As she retracts her telepathic link, dark thoughts drift into JC’s head. As she loses contact with Amye’s flesh, flashes of her own memories are brought to the forefront. She fights to keep them filed deeply away.
••••••
SEVENTEEN.
Seventeen and innocent—having just taken the final mental test to determine her cerebral rating, she’s paraded before an Osirian hidden in shadow with an unreadable, no, shielded mind. Not shielded by a telepath, but some technical force. JC was sold to this man. Some long-forgotten commandment in the founding allowed telepaths to be sold into servitude in order to protect their status. As property, if damaged, the owner would receive compensation.
JC cuts off her thought as another memory slips from her control.
••••••
SHE SWADDLES A pink blanket around a baby. “You promised after she was born our contract was complete.”
The older broad-shouldered figure lingers in the shadows with only bright admiral pips on his lapels reflecting the light. “Your contract
