CHAPTER 21

Hon returns to the Dauntless several hours later. He’s mussed, wearing a satisfied smile as he strides into the lounge. Loras and Dina have been gone for several hours, leaving me to wait for Hon or a message from Mac.

“How did your recon go?” I ask dryly.

“The cheese vendor can put both feet behind her head.”

I had a feeling it was going to be something like that. “Been a long time since you had any shore leave?”

“That’s a fact.”

Belatedly I remember he’s been lying low. If he’s been holed up with the remnants of his raiders—who were always predominantly male—I can’t blame him for his focus now. But I have no further interest in the cheese vendor, however flexible she may be.

“Did you learn anything else?”

“Certainly.” His expression is mildly affronted as he settled into the chair opposite. “Dasad is in hiding. Since her arrival, there have been three failed kidnappings and two attempts on her life.”

I offer a low whistle. “Sounds like we were right. She knows something valuable. Any intel on those responsible?”

“Syndicate, almost certainly. Hints that a rival crime family from Venice Minor may be in on the action.”

“So whatever she knows, it’s important enough that if they can’t have it, they don’t want anyone else to, either.”

Hon nods. “That’s how I see’t.”

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” I fill him in on what we accomplished.

By the time I finish, he’s grinning. “See what a great team we make, Sirantha?”

I know where he’s going with this, and I hold up a hand to forestall it. “March would kill you.” There’s no point in antagonizing him with the knowledge that I don’t want him without the help of pheromones.

“He’d try.” Luckily, the cheese vendor has left him too sated to make an issue of it. “So now we’re waitin’ for this Rafferty to get in touch?”

“That’s the sum of it.”

“Then I’m going to get some sleep.”

Not a bad idea. I want to be sharp when it’s time to move, so we head to our separate quarters. Before lying down, I bounce a message to March, knowing he won’t see it for ages. In fact, depending on the efficiency of the satellites—and how long it takes here—I might wind up racing the data with another impossible jump. When we have a fleet of ships, we can utilize them to relay messages faster. That’s what Farwan used to do, but I’m not putting this on open channels. Our best hopes lie in encryption and secrecy.

“We found her,” I tell him through the uncaring lens of the terminal recorder. “At least, she’s still here. With any luck, we’ll be homeward bound soon. I miss you.” That’s all I can bear to commit to a message that anyone might see.

After I’ve sent it, I realize I didn’t think to check my reflection or worry about taming my hair. Mary knows what I look like, after the near brawl at Rafferty’s, but it probably doesn’t matter. He’s seen me at my worst and then some.

In my bunk, I muse on the fact that I didn’t give in to the urge to start a fight in the bar. Once, I would’ve swung away without thinking about consequences. It seems I learned self-control on Ithiss-Tor, but I’m asleep before I can decide if that’s good or bad.

It doesn’t seem like I’ve been out very long before Dina’s voice awakens me.

“Get moving, Jax. It’s time.”

I’m on my feet before my eyes are open all the way. “The meet’s on?”

“No, I just missed you. Get your ass to the hatch.”

I laugh softly and grab a cord. On the move, I weave my locks into a respectable twist. I don’t want to make a bad first impression on Evelyn, and crazy hair won’t help. When I arrive, Hon, Loras, and Dina are already waiting.

“What took you so long?” the mechanic gripes.

I grin at her. “Hearing your voice, well . . . You can imagine.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” She feigns an elaborate shudder.

“You two finished?” Hon is all business now, his face stern with purpose.

“We don’t want to be late,” Loras adds.

Because I know they’re right, I don’t argue. I simply nod. “Let’s do this.”

It’s after hours on station. The majority of humans on board are in the middle of their sleep cycle. A few aliens roam around at this hour, but none of them pay much attention to us. I’m not sure if that’s luck or design.

We make for Rafferty’s, but the place is closed up tight, a wide flex-steel gate drawn down to prevent unauthorized entry from the promenade. Since I didn’t take the call and don’t have instructions, I glance at the others for guidance. “What now?”

“Around back,” Hon tells me.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Circling, we find a small door with a comm panel beside it.

“For deliveries,” Loras notes.

Without further delay, I tap the screen, alerting them to our presence. It flashes red, telling us to wait. In a few seconds, Rafferty’s face comes up as he peers through at us. “Who’s that?” he asks, gesturing at Hon. “I didn’t agree to let him see Evelyn.”

I see why he’d be alarmed. Even on a good day, Hon exudes a fair amount of scary. “He’s harmless. But if his presence is a deal-breaker, we can send him back to the ship.”

Mac decides swiftly. “Do it. The door doesn’t open until he’s gone. You better hope station security doesn’t come by asking you what you’re about before then. If that happens, the deal is off.”

“Scuttle,” I tell Hon briefly.

His face darkens—and I can tell I’m going to pay for that later—but he complies. Once he’s left the narrow alley behind the bar, the lock disengages. “Come in. Quickly.”

Maybe I’m just susceptible to other people’s paranoia but I find myself gazing over my left shoulder as we slide inside. At this hour, the bar is dark and quiet. We’re in a hallway between the regular area and the VIP lounge.

Mac leads us toward the latter, where we find Evelyn Dasad waiting, flanked by two Peacemaker units. Each has weapons out and on standby. Yeah, Rafferty’s serious about us not taking her anywhere she doesn’t want to go.

Dasad is smaller than I thought she’d be. Her presence and resolve on the vid made her seem larger than life, but in fact, she’s a few centimeters shorter than I am. Her hair has grown a little since she sent the message we intercepted, a shaggy fringe down past her ears. She’s a little thinner, too, and lines of strain are etched into her face, which bears the shadow of many sleepless nights.

This is a woman who lives in fear.

Only her eyes are the same, polished onyx that doesn’t reflect the light. In one fashion, she’s the negative reflection of the heterozygous genotype that heralds the J-gene. I wonder what unique gifts her appearance portends.

“I’m Sirantha Jax,” I say, intending to make introductions first.

“I know who you are,” she says. “And what you’ve done.”

I can’t determine if that’s auspicious . . . or ominous.

Taking pity on me, she adds, “You set records with the Corp before going rogue and destabilizing the galactic economy with the truth of Farwan’s misdeeds. Then you escaped the bounty hunter they set on you and went on to forge an alliance with Ithiss-Tor.”

“Would you have done any different?” This, I decide, will help me take her measure.

“No. However much I regret our current predicament, Farwan was not the answer. They had gone from serving the people to serving themselves. And the alliance was the first good news I’ve heard in a while. I hope it will be enough.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Loras murmurs.

“So it does,” Evelyn responds tiredly. “Which is why I am not sure whether I can trust you.”

“A fair question. How can we resolve the issue to your satisfaction?” In Dina’s voice, I hear diplomacy and echoes of the princess she used to be. She would’ve made a far better ambassador than me, I think, but she wouldn’t have had the job for any price.

“Not with words or promises,” Dasad says.

“Are you all right to talk with them?” Mac asks from the doorway. His anxiety is palpable, even now.

Evelyn nods. “You can go, Uncle Mac. I don’t think they mean me any harm, and if I’m wrong, your bots will make short work of them.”

That explains a lot. On closer scrutiny, I see they have the same dark eyes. He turns to go with a final, narrow-eyed stare at the three of us, but without Hon, we’re clearly no match for two fully equipped Peacemaker units. It would take heavy weapons to pierce their armor, and we’re not carrying that kind of firepower.

I take a seat. “Shall we get down to business, then?”