“You’re talking about supervising the rebuild of the Deliverance.”
“Officially it’s a refit,” Maxtin says.
“Semantics doesn’t change the damage to the vessel. He lost half the crew.”
“Its frame remained intact.”
“And the crew…Kantian handpicked most of them,” she says.
“Some will always be loyal to him. Many have already transferred to new assignments. I make the appointment official and you select your own crew to fill any vacancies.”
“Have I dissatisfied you?” she asks.
“You believe this is punishment? No, you’ve earned your command. And I want many allies captaining the fleet.”
NEVER HAVE HER hands ever worked so hard. The blisters prevent Michelle from closing a fist. Her forms will lack perfection, which means Amye won’t teach her a new one. Part of her wants to ask for some medical treatment. Medical treatment would restore her flesh back to soft supple innocence. Michelle considers allowing herself to physically toughen. Delicate palms won’t win back my world.
“What assistance is needed to find Commander Reynard?” she asks Australia.
The Nysaean scans through print information displayed on the main view screen.
“Upon the suggestion of Samantha, a search of deaths involving cranial trauma.”
Even Michelle realizes the vagueness of such a search. “With thousands of populated star systems, how many years will such parameters take to consider?”
“I have placed more limitations on the search, as well as included multiple deaths.”
“I don’t understand. Any of this is useful? If the Sandmen didn’t kill him they are in another reality. How do you enter another reality?” Michelle asks.
“The Sandmen utilize focal points to enter our reality,” Australia explains.
“I’m lacking understanding. Mythical creatures are reported on every planet. Even if 1 percent of myths are true, you’re talking a hundred thousand planets to search. If this cat doesn’t have enough information, then she has to know the location of another orb fragment. Another piece will give her more guidance,” Michelle says.
“Samantha.”
The black cat leaps from the couch to the back of a chair along the row of four control stations, “I’m a conduit for the Hex Darmight. It shares information with me. It has yet to reveal the location of any more orb fragments. Before it darkened it relayed the necessity to locate Reynard. We must follow the path it gives us.”
“With no clue on how to locate him.” Australia’s professional demeanor hints at annoyance.
“I was sheltered and know little of my planet outside the palace, but I was educated,” Michelle assures them. “None of this will lead to the Commander’s location.”
“Search parameters complete,” Athena chimes.
Michelle chews her bottom lip.
“Display.”
The 2D image of a star chart replaces the documents on the main view screen. The image scoots off the screen into a three-dimensional map of planetary systems. Pink dots blaze in clusters in several systems.
“Death reports—cracked skull trauma with the brain removed?” Samantha paws at the floating beams of light.
“All locations meet defined parameters,” Athena reports.
“I told you it would be more worlds than you could search.” Michelle clamps her hand over her mouth—a habit developed when she was punished for speaking with aggression.
Samantha paws at a bluish world without a single pink dot.
“There’s nothing there.”
“Look further, Princess Aurora.” Australia enlarges the section. “The planets in the adjacent solar systems all have reports of multiple attacks. Making this world the central point for Sandmen to originate from.”
“Does the planet appear familiar, Samantha?” Michelle asks.
“Database categorizes it as an unsettled world, Guil III.”
“No people. Explains why there’re no Sandman attacks.”
“It is central to dozens of other attacks on five systems. Evidence of a possible focal point.”
“You will encounter Sandmen who require a focal point on the surface,” Samantha confirms.
“I will plot a course.”
“On such vague information?” Michelle bolts for the door. “Let me inform Amye. Don’t do it over the comm.”
••••••
AMYE SUPERVISES WORKERS transferring power cells from their storage cages to anti-gravity sleds.
“Amye.”
“I’ll instruct you in a new form later. These guys aren’t synthoids.”
A simple explanation as to why she must guard them. Michelle blurts, “The cat has offered a lead on Reynard.”
Amye balls her left fist. “These power systems have to be reinstalled before launch.”
Michelle sucks in a breath. The diplomat in her knows not to say anything more before these humanoids. Compelled to not hurry Amye, she says, “It’s unfounded.”
Having spent many hours training with Michelle, she realizes the girl has concerns she dares not voice before outsiders. Amye clicks her watch. “Scott.”
“Got the power cells secured, Amye?” Scott’s voice crackles over the comm.
“About to load them on the lift.”
“Once they are in place, off-load all workers.”
His response informs her they are preparing to leave the shipyards.
Michelle shakes her head.
“Scott, confirm our reason for leaving,” Amye requests.
REYNARD SLAMS ON the brakes. The tires on his rusty Chevy squelch. Aundrea throws her arms against the dash to prevent smacking the windshield. Julie flings open the door and jumps out, her powder-blue prom dress snagging on the loose chrome trim. She ignores the rip.
“Where are you going?” Reynard flips the gears into park.
“I don’t know. This is insane!” She bunches up her formal dress so she can jog down the road without tripping.
“We have to get her.” Aundrea slides out of the passenger side, keeping her dress from getting caught.
“You go. I’ll see what this cop wants.” Reynard eases toward the flashing cherries atop the car blocking the two-lane blacktop.
Reynard approaches, his hands in a surrendering motion. The driver’s door presses against the uniformed leg sticking out. Reynard spots the slumped officer. The engine still runs.
Aundrea drags Julie with her as they run behind Reynard.
“She didn’t get far in heels.” Aundrea spots what Reynard sees. She hides her face. “Oh my God.”
The officer’s Glock dangles in his hand. His face half gone from a
