“What am I looking for?”

“A message brick.” He turned his head so she had the best angle for the search.

“You might have irreparably damaged your hearing,” she said, disapprovingly as she finally retrieved the cube.

“It fit. It was safe,” Orlig replied, unpenitent. “If you can’t get to Tor, wait until Zebara gets back. You can tell him to check out AidkisagI VIII, the Seti of Fomalhaut. The cube gives him the rest of the pertinent details.”

“The Seti of ... their head of government?” Lunzie’s voice rose in pitch to a surprised squeak.

“Shh! Keep it down!” Orlig hissed. “Whoever rigged that wall to blow may be looking for me now he knows he failed to kill me.”

“Who?”

Orlig rolled his eyes at her naivete.

“Sorry.”

“Wise up, gal, or you can end up like me. And you couldn’t stand a wall felling on you.” His voice was now a thin trickle of sound.

She tucked the cube into her soft ship boot. “Tor or Zebara. Count on me. Now, I stop being courier and start being medic.”

Just as she finished and had him plas-skinned, his eyes sagged shut. The sedative and shock were finally overwhelming him.

“You’re safe now,” Lunzie murmured. “I’ll pull the food synthesiser within your reach so you don’t have to get up if you’re hungry or thirsty. I’ll lock the room so that no one can get in. And I’ll knock if I want to come in.”

,. Orlig nodded sleepily. “Use a password. Say ‘ambrosia.’ That way I’ll know if it’s you or someone you sent.”

“That particular word keeps getting me in trouble. I’ll use ‘whisky’ instead.” As soon as she sealed the infirmary door, Lunzie immediately went back to her compartment to change out of her bloodstained clothes. She kept the cube in her boot but decided to attach her Fleet ID disk against her skin under her clothes. It was safer to keep it on her person than to risk someone finding it among her possessions. Orlig’s “accident” brought a resurgence of her paranoia. Too many odd things happened to couriers of messages to Coromell.

“How’s the patient?” Truna called to her as Lunzie returned to the common room. The technician and her assistants were sitting slumped over a table with steaming mugs in their hands.

“As well as can be expected for a man who’s been knocked about by a bulkhead blowing out on him,” Lunzie answered, programming a cup of coffee for herself. “How’d repairs go?”

“We got the wall temporarily put together again. It’s going to take at least a few days to recreate the components needed to replace the damaged systems. Those circuits got truly fried!” Truna said, taking a deep drink from her mug. The woman’s eyes were puffy and rimmed with red.

“What caused the explosion?” Lunzie asked, settling down at the table with the others. As soon as she sat, she realised how sore her muscles were from dealing with Orlig and his injuries.