“Do you want me to sit with you?” said a voice from behind. Toum did not need to turn his face to know who it was. He felt his limbs tense, ready for killing.
“No,” he said, his eyes on the window.
“But I will.” The speaker came into his field of vision, folding her legs alongside him. Her name was Hiul. A first unit striker. Toum wondered if he even could kill her, given the chance. He was willing to try. Hiul picked some leaves, and consumed them. “Are you eating?”
“Why else would I be here?”
She lolled her head, looking at the crushed leaves at Toum’s feet. “Of course.” She turned her face to the window. “So many ships. So many ideas within them. How do they do it, I wonder? How do they achieve harmony, knowing that false notions walk beside them?”
Toum said nothing.
Hiul brought more leaves to her mouth. “I do not believe that they do. I believe they exist in chaos, each following their own ideas, each serving a clan of one.”
He smacked his mouth. “The New Mothers say this is acceptable, so long as we keep to our ways. Are you not in unity with their words? Do you not agree?”
Hiul seemed unconcerned by the threat. She ignored the challenge. Ignored it! Only two words left her mouth, maddeningly calm: “Do you?”
He grabbed her, fury hot within his belly. He brought his mouth to her breathing throat, poised for a quick kill. “I have told you before, do not speak to me. You are chaos.”
She did not fight back, which frightened Toum more than if she had. “You see me as out of agreement with the New Mothers?” she said. “You see me as a false truth?”
“Do not toy with me. You know what you are.”
She pushed forward, pressing her throat against his mouth. “Then why do you not kill me?”
He willed himself to bite down. It would be so easy, so fast. He could feel her pulse, deep and quick. But he could not, and it made him rage all the more. He threw her, hard. A planter broke beneath her fall, loam spilling over the floor. The others in the garden looked their way. Most, after a glance, returned to their food, unconcerned by the mess. The machines would clean it up.
Hiul laughed, wiping a stream of lymph from split skin near her mouth. “‘You know what you are.’ Yes, yes. I do,” she said, standing. She approached him again. “And I know what you are, Toum. I see the conflict in you.”
“I am a guard of the New Mother!”
She moved in close, whispering. “That is why you fight it, I know. How horrible for you. How horrible to know the truth, and to hate those who threaten it, and to remain loyal regardless.”
His eyes betrayed him, straying to the window full of alien ships.
Hiul exhaled smugly. “You have a ship of your own, you know. You have access to things we do not.”
He looked sharply back at her. “We?”
She walked away, limping slightly. It appeared that one of her back legs had been badly bruised by the fall. Good. She turned her face to him. “We are Toremi,” she said. “We are never a clan of one.”
Ashby sighed with relief as the pinhole tug pulled his ship back into normal space one last time. It had been four days since they’d rendezvoused with the Kirit Sek, and grateful as he was for the shortcut, he wasn’t sure what had been worse—the sublayer jumps, or long stretches of nothing in between. The last leg of the haul to the rendezvous at Del’lek had been a long one, but they’d busied themselves with cleaning the ship and taking care of all the little odd jobs that had been brushed to the side. By the time they met up with the Kirit Sek, the Wayfarer was as spotless as it ever had been, and there was nothing else for them to do. Ashby had thought four days of kick-back would be restful, but the jumps made that impossible, and the lack of productivity made him anxious. Everybody was on edge. Dr. Chef had been growing irritated at all the extra help hovering around the kitchen, and Ashby had strong suspicions that the blown-out lighting panel they’d experienced the day before had been orchestrated by the techs, just to give themselves something to do. The only people who hadn’t seemed to mind the downtime were Sissix and Rosemary, who were happy to keep each other occupied, and Ohan, who was busy letting their nerves die.
But the jumps, though, had gotten to everybody. A blind punch was one thing, but four days of in and out at six-hour intervals was enough to make even Ashby spacesick. He sat up slowly in bed as Lovey transmitted the tug captain’s voice through his vox.
“That’s it for us, Captain Santoso,” the Aandrisk woman said. She had a different accent than Sissix—less colloquial, harsher around the edges. “Are you all doing okay over there?”
“Well enough,” Ashby said. He rubbed his eyes. Stable vision could not be overrated. “Thanks for the trip.”
“Take it from me—before you call in to whoever you’re reporting to, take an hour to eat something and get back on your feet. We’ll be doing the same.”
“Will do.” He cleared his throat. “Heske rath ishi kith.”
“Heske skath eski risk,” the Aandrisk said, sounding pleased. “Safe journey to you as well.” The vox switched off. Out his window, Ashby could see the Kirit Sek drop their towing field and veer away.
“Lovey, where’s Sissix?”
The vox snapped back on. “She just headed to the control room.”
“Let her know I’m on my way there.”
A few minutes later, he stepped into the control room. Sissix was already in her seat, checking her navigational controls.
“I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head,” she said, without looking at him.
“You and me both.” He slumped into his chair and stared out the window. “And all for that.”
In the space beyond was Hedra Ka. A cracking scab of a planet, choked with storms and veins of lava. A mist of rocks floated in orbit, a reminder of its recent formation. It was a young world, unwelcoming, resentful of its existence.
“That is the angriest looking rock I’ve ever seen,” Ashby said.
“You talking about the rock or the ships?”
Hedra Ka lay within a feeding frenzy of vessels—Harmagian frigates, Aeluon cruisers, neutral transports, pinhole tugs, patrol shuttles. And of course, the Toremi. Ashby knew that the Toremi were generational spacers, just like the Exodans, but he saw nothing familiar in their ships. For a species who lived out in the open, their ships looked surprisingly fragile, lacking the thick bulkheads he associated with long-haul rigs. He saw only wiry frames and sharp edges, dripping with antennae and eerie lighted cords that drifted in the vacuum. They looked like deep-sea creatures, pulsing, swaying, incomprehensible.
Ashby leaned forward. “No way.” There was a clear spherical patch outside of the swarm, marked by warning buoys. “That’s where they want us to drop the cage?” The distance between the tunnel entrance and Hedra Ka would be shorter than the distance between Earth and Luna. By about half.
“Good thing this is a soft zone,” Sissix said. “Can you imagine doing a blind punch there?”
Ashby shook his head. “We’re good, but not that good.”
“Nobody’s that good.”
“We’d have been lucky not to tear that planet apart.”
Sissix snorted. “Not much of a loss if we did.”
Ashby laughed. “Lovey, can you patch me through to everybody?”
The vox switched on. “They’re listening, Ashby,” Lovey said.
“Hey, everybody. We’ve made it. If you’re feeling sick, go get yourself a bite to eat, but please make it quick. I’d like everyone here when I call our contact. Please be in the control room in one hour, tops. This is a big day for us, and I’d like us all to put our best foot forward. Nothing fancy, but clean faces and smart clothes would be appreciated.”