Darkness crashed over Tachyon like a wave.

“Shit, what the fuck’s wrong now?” were the dulcet words Tachyon heard when she regained consciousness.

Mark was patting first her hands, then her cheek, then going back to her hands. Her head was propped in Jay’s lap. She knew because the smell of cheap aftershave was overwhelming.

“I always have this devastating effect on women,” drawled a new, yet horribly familiar voice.

The accent was light, lilting, rather like a Rumanian crossed with a Swede. Tachyon talked the same way – when she remembered to affect the accent. Only one other race would speak English with that particular cadence. Tach opened one eye, risked another glance. No, nothing had changed. It was still a Takisian. It was still her wicked cousin Zabb.

“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Turtle growled.

Zabb turned his attention to the looming bulk of the Turtle shell. It was a long three seconds as he carefully scanned the armored surface. “Don’t tell me you built another one of these ugly horrors? And I gave you such a perfect opportunity for a redesign.”

Five years before, a ship from House Ilkazam had rather belatedly returned to Earth to evaluate the results of its botched experiment. Of lesser priority was to determine the fate and the whereabouts of the heir to the House. Zabb had captained that ship, and he’d been searching for Tachyon in order to kill him. In that effort he was foiled by Tom Tudbury, but he had managed to jettison Tommy’s shell during the fracas. Tommy obviously hadn’t forgotten. He lifted a few feet off the ground, and Tach shrilled out, “Get me up! And Turtle, calm down.”

“Yes, mushroom, sit!” Zabb ordered, and then laughed.

With Mark’s supporting hand beneath her elbow, she started to struggle to her feet, only to have a pair of finely manicured hands close about her waist, swing her up, and set her lightly on her feet.

The touch of his telepathy was glass sharp, as cold as icicles. Tachyon looked up into the beautiful, laughing face of her cousin.

My, how you’ve changed, purred her tormentor.

Tachyon slammed up her primitive shields, more to shut off the sound of his mental laughter than any desire to protect her mind’s secrets. Zabb lifted her hand, dropped gracefully to one knee before her, and lifted his face expectantly. Angrily she snatched back her hand.

No!

Because I’ve been such a bad boy? Zabb asked blandly, as he climbed to his feet.

Because you dishonor me. Greet me properly.

I take reality as I find it. You can’t really expect me to salute you man to man?

You know what I am.

I know who you are. What you are is rather evident for the stars to see.

He lifted her hand again and this time spoke audibly. “Tis, what a fascinating predicament you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

“I take it you’re acquainted,” Jay said, then added, “Here I was waiting for E.T., and I get another comic-opera Takisian. Swell, just great.”

Arching one brow, Zabb jerked his head at the fulminating human. “Who is this… person?”

“One of my protectors.” The shrillness of her voice betrayed her nerves, and Tach angrily bit at her lower lip.

“Since when?” Jay whispered, and she could have slapped him.

Zabb turned his attention to Meadows, and despite his every effort a frown sank the arrogantly upraised eyebrow.

“Peace, man.” The ace made the gesture, but his tone and the set of his shoulders made a mockery of the sentiment. “Like, it’s really good to see you again.”

“What is this? Is the whole fucking universe the size of New Jersey?” said Jay. “Does everybody know everybody?”

“Mark got a particularly edifying view of Zabb’s tail as he turned it and ran from me and my ship a few years back.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Tis.” Zabb jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my ship. It’s only by my say-so that anyone flies on her. You need me…” His eyes dropped, and he stared insolently at the bulge of her belly. “Obviously.”

Jay cut through the round of escalating pleasantries. “Could we get on with this? I have to catch a plane in El Paso at eight-forty.”

Zabb pulled out a pocket computer and began entering data. “The message said you wanted passage to Takis.”

“If you please,” said Tachyon.

“For just you?”

“And two others.” She indicated Mark and Tom with a nod of the head.

Zabb favored her with a limpid, humorous glance. “You always did inspire such loyalty… in dogs and servants.”

“Probably because I can be trusted,” Tach said.

“Why do you want to return home?” the Takisian asked.

“That is none of your affair.”

Zabb snapped shut the computer. “All right, I’ll take you.”

“What’s the price?”

“You remain silent about my activities during our reconnaissance of Earth.”

“Kib’r Benaf’saj is dead, Hali is dead, your ship lost, and you are on a Network vessel. I think the family will draw their own conclusions.”

“Not if you give them the true story.”

“Which is?” asked Tach with growing weariness.

“About how the Swarm attacked, but I valiantly fought them off at enormous cost to ship and crew. The ship, much of her sentience destroyed in the battle, fled into deep space. Where I was discovered by the Network. And…” He shrugged. “What could I do? The bloodsucking bastards insisted I pay for my rescue.”

Confused, Tach shook her head as if the action would organize her mind better. “Why, Zabb? You can never return home. What does it matter what they think of you?”

His expression clouded. “I will die under unfamiliar stars, but if I leave my ancestors at peace, I will be satisfied.”

Tach made a moue, drew the end of her long braid over one shoulder, and began idly plucking off split ends while she regarded her cousin. The expression was noble, the tone sincere, pain lurked in the corners of those gray eyes – and she didn’t believe him for a minute. He read the thought and flashed her an ironic smile.

“I’ll have time to convince you during the voyage.” The cold gray eyes studied Turtle speculatively. “And you, little man, are you willing to crawl out of your shell?”

“WHAT?” Tom asked.

“This is a scout ship. Virtually no hold space. What we do have is taken. I’ll carry the flesh, but no more.”

Silence seemed to wrap the shell. It had become a darker hole in the darkness. Tach felt her stomach take a fall of several stories. After all her proud words about not requiring help, it was very comforting to have that help. And Tach sensed her support was wavering. She wanted to say something to Tom, find some way to starch his backbone.

“Uh… Doc, could I talk to you for a minute?” asked Trips. “Privately.”

Zabb crossed his arms over his chest. Laughter seemed to be lurking about the corners of that mobile mouth, hiding in the drooping brush of his full mustache.

“What’s so goddamn funny?” Jay demanded.

“You… all of you. I can read minds.”

Tach smiled, a slow, teeth-baring expression. Slipped a hand into her pocket and closed her fingers gratefully around the device that Jube had given her. Pulled it out, unfolded her fingers like a flower blossoming. Fury crashed across Zabb’s face.

Tach beckoned to Trips and Jay. They stepped away a few feet. Turtle continued to squat on the sand. Mark looked questioningly back at him.

“Turtle?” the gangly ace said. The shell seemed to shiver as it flew the few feet to join them.

Tach flicked her nail beneath the edge of the jewel. The device began to hum, and St. Elmo’s fire ran chuckling through the wires. Instantly a headache slammed like a vise around her temples.

“What in the hell is that thing?” asked Jay.

The crystal was pulsing, throwing a putrid green light in a three-foot circle around them. Most of the shell was outside the protective glow. Just another reminder of how useless that encasing pod of steel was proving to be. Why did I ever think he could come with us, or that he could be any help? Tach wondered. Then forced herself to answer Jay’s question.