Within, Amos lay still, eyes closed, breathing peacefully.
Amos heard the seals release and sensed the lid rising. Light pressed against his eyelids with an almost tangible weight, and he expected his eyes to open of their own accord in response to it. A sense of free space surrounded him; he could hear air pumps and the sound of a ship's engines. The need to open his eyes was an overwhelming frustration, like an unscratchable itch.
"Elevated heartbeat," an unfamiliar voice said-unfamiliar and inhuman, like words produced by some beautifully-made musical instrument.
Inside himself Amos cringed away from the hand that suddenly touched him. The brief sound of movement he'd heard, a strange crunching sound, hadn't prepared him for the cold, hard touch of the gloved hand.
"Amos," Joseph said, in a voice high and tight with tension. "Benisur?" he attempted when Amos lay still and unresponsive.
Joseph? Amos went alert, tensed within himself to the point of pain. My brother! he thought joyfully, then horror filled him. I am death, my brother, do not touch me! Leave me, leave me! He thought the words with all his might, with all his soul, as though he could force them into his friend's mind.
Joseph reached out and grabbed Seg, flinging him hard against the open life-pod.
"Do something!" he snarled.
Amos felt the life-pod rock as Seg's body struck its side. Another? he thought. How many? he wondered desperately, imagining a room filled with victims, and Kolnari laughter.
"I'm a bio-engineer, not a doctor, dammit!" Seg snapped.
"You said he was conscious," Joseph said, his eyes narrowing menacingly. "Does he look conscious to you?"
"The bio-readings on the pod said he was conscious," Seg objected. "Just back off so I can attach my diagnostic equipment to him directly and maybe we'll see what's going on."
"Could he be drugged?' Joat asked.
"Of course. There are dozens of drugs they could have used that would leave him conscious but immobile. Or they could have pithed him," Seg chattered on, unaware of the thunder in Joseph's eyes. "They wouldn't be needing him after this. And there are ways of doing it that are so subtle they wouldn't show up on these scans."
"Pithed him," Joseph repeated, shaken.
No, only drugs, Amos silently reassured him.
"There's a certain strategic value in essentially destroying your planet's religious leader," Seg pointed out. "Though catastrophe-wise it's lame for the Kolnari."
Who is this fool? Amos wondered indignantly. Reflecting that it was no surprise that Joseph threw him around like an ill-mannered cur. The creature actually was an ill-mannered cur.
"It's drugs," Joat said positively. "Look, Joe, there's no need to glare at Seg that way. If there's one thing I'm sure of when it comes to the Kolnari, it's that they don't do subtle quietly. Whenever one of them actually manages to be subtle they throw a party and boast about it."
"But why do this?" Joseph asked wildly.
"So that he couldn't warn anybody," Seg assured him grimly, tapping the screen on his diagnostic unit. "Because he's definitely a carrier. He's unaffected, so he must be immune, but he's positive. They paralyzed him so that he could only lie there knowing that simply by breathing he was destroying his people. Then when the drug wore off, he'd be one of the few able to help."
Seg was unusually solemn, as though he'd just discovered the real meaning of what he was involved in. He looked up into one of the cameras. "I'd say there's a great deal of subtlety in that," he said.
"Well," Joat agreed, "they know all about cruelty."
Joseph leaned close to Amos and quietly said, "Benisur…" He paused, his mouth tight, his eyes suspiciously bright and once again he grasped Amos's arm.
I am here my friend, Amos thought. Be at peace, I am with you.
Joseph took a deep breath and tried again.
"My brother, we know the Kolnari plan and we are prepared. We are immunized and cannot get the disease you carry. Even so we are in EVA suits. You need not fear for us."
Amos felt tears of joy roll down his cheeks. They were safe! His people were safe. Ah, bless the God that gave me allies like Joseph, my thanks! My most heartfelt thanks.
Belazir sighed contentedly as he watched Bros Sperin standing in his cell and drank deeply from the glass of cane spirit in his hand. Then he frowned and reached over to add a pinch of salts of mercury and a dash of copperas and lead oxide.
Ah, better.
The scumvermin spy had been standing for approximately eighteen hours now and still stood rock solid. But a sheen of perspiration glistened on his hard-muscled body and darkened the waistband of his shorts.
Belazir hoped that he'd be watching when the Central Worlds Security operative eventually fell over. He grinned. How he loved to watch them hop around when the electrical charges hit them. Perhaps if he lowered the temperature… shivering would wear him out faster. No, it will be more informative to see just how long he can last. Besides even in one's pleasures one should exercise a modicum of discipline, his eyes sparkled with amusement. It builds character.
"No Central Worlds Fleet," he said aloud. "Fool." He'd been prepared to run again, to scatter the painfully accumulated strength amid the dead stars. The High Clan did not need living planets, not since their exile from Kolnar.
But eighteen hours after he'd captured Sperin the mercenary escort he'd sent after Joat Simeon-Hap reported that the Wyal maintained its silence and its course for Bethel.
Belazir raised white-blond brows.
Perhaps her crew did not know his identity, he mused. Somehow he doubted that. Ciety has a lot to answer for. Belazir's brows snapped down. First, the insult of Simeon's "daughter" thrown in my face, next a professional spy is among her crew. He was pleased that he'd sent for Ciety. Never mind that his reasons had been less than rational at the time. He and his wench are either traitorous or stupid. If the former, I shall kill them. He smiled as imaginative images swept through his mind. If the latter, I will punish them. That should give them an incentive to be more alert in future. Even the most minor members of the crew had to maintain discipline. Without it, all was chaos.
"Rand, I want you to tight-beam this message to the nearest Central Worlds Naval facility," Joat began entering the Wyal's coordinates and a Mayday. They were now far enough away from the Kolnar fleet that such a message should be safe to send.
"That's probably not a good idea, Joat. We're being followed. If we alert the Kolnari, they'll be gone by the time a task force can get here."
There was no way to track a ship on interstellar drive from more than half a light-year away. Once the pirate fleet had scattered, only sheer chance would let the Fleet intercept even the slowest. No doubt they had a rendezvous arranged for just that eventuality.
"Followed?" Her head snapped up. "Show me."
"Indicating."
Rand opened a screen onto the rear view of the Wyal. The view showed a corrected view of the sidereal universe as it would have appeared to an object with the ship's pseudospeed. Even at FTL, only the nearer stars showed any apparent movement; space was big. A point of light strobed, and a line of figures ran down the screen beside it.
"Less than a hundred tonnes mass," the AI said. "But high-powered. Fighter equivalent, nonstandard."