Cable went to his quarters, to his desk, slipped a tape in to view, leaned back, chewed a hangnail. The tape was an oddity, nothing but Tina doing mother things with Placidia.

— 113 —

Turtle prowled restlessly, wishing he was over on Anton Tregesser with his brethren. But the Outsiders were not that trusting. His followers had a pair of Outsider pilots who could not be coerced. He and the hostages were here on a Traveler wearing false ID, babysat by a hundred commandos. The councillors were safe on a Traveler also masquerading, excepting a handful who had gone out on a fourth ship to talk it over with the Godspeakers.

His people would be alert for the courier, ready to start shooting if the answer was "No." They would cripple this Traveler and try to board before the Outsiders could dispose of their hostages. They would take out the Outsider delegation, for whatever pain that would cause.

The Outsider soldiers stayed out of his way but kept him in sight. They did not trouble him. He had lived most of his life surrounded by enemies.

Midnight, though, did trouble him.

His pacing brought them face to face. "You've been avoiding me, Turtle."

"Yes. I don't know how to make you understand."

"Why are you doing this?" Ignoring what he had said. And not appealing for information but accusing him by asking a question for which there would be no acceptable answer.

"Because I am what I was made to be. Like you, I have no choice." That should make sense to her. "I was created to battle the dragon."

Midnight would not be able to grasp a long-range plan. She lived in a perpetual now, with only the vaguest feel for any future more than a few days distant, and had no more grasp on the past. Did she even recall WarAvocat or Merod Schene? She never spoke of them. She no longer asked what had become of Amber Soul.

"Do you have to even when it serves a greater evil?"

She might not illuminate the universe with her brilliance, but she could arrow in on the hard questions. He did the one thing she always understood. He hugged her.

He stepped back and really looked at her. And was troubled by what he saw.

She had Blessed to herself now, without competition from Tina Bofoku or the House. She should be radiant. But she seemed a little frayed, her wings a little off-color, wilted, like a leaf just begun to fade. He felt a touch of sorrow.

The breath of time had fallen upon Lady Midnight.

An artifact of her sort stayed looking young longer than women of woman born, but not forever, and when age did come it came quickly. Soon she would be capable only of a crude imitation of her dance in flight, and then only in free fall. Her wings would fade, then wither and stiffen, then would fall off. And if she did not take her own life in despair, she would have only a few months more.

She would not know what was coming. She would be puzzled and hurt but innocent. By that much was her inability to focus beyond the moment a boon.

She had, at the most, ten years. Likely closer to five.

Such were the sorrows of being a Ku warrior trapped inside this time-linear human culture. The friends all fell while the enemy went forever on, persistent as the stars themselves.

He hugged her again. There would be little time left in which to know and appreciate her.

Alarms hooted. He felt the electric crackle as inertial systems cranked up. "The courier has broken away. Go to your cabin. Stay there till we know what happened." He used that tone he knew she would not question. She went, hurrying.

He went to his own quarters to await the decision of fate.

Lupo Provik looked in half an hour later. "They went for it."

Turtle knew. He would have been dead or rescued by now had the decision gone the other way.

— 114 —

Jo and AnyKaat put three meters between them, approached the shuttle cautiously. An unscheduled shuttle was unprecedented. One that asked for them specifically, claiming it had orders to lift them topside, seemed impossible. Had one of their letters gotten through? That had become too much to hope.

Far easier to believe that House Tregesser had sent someone to finish what Provik had begun.

One nervous spacer stood at the base of the boarding ladder, watching. Above, a scab-on weapons turret turned slowly. They were inside its angle of depression. Promising, but not entirely reassuring. The killers might want to make sure they hit the right targets.

The spacer sweated the weapons centered upon him. He gulped air before he croaked, "Lieutenant Jo Klass? Is one of you her?"

Jo asked, "What about it?"

"There's a Traveler at station looking for you. If you're her. They chartered us to get you."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

AnyKaat said, "I don't like it, Jo."

"If it's our friends from... the ship, they might not want anybody to guess who they are."

"Neither would our enemies."

"Still the best chance we're going to get. We'll be off the ground."

AnyKaat could not argue with that.

"You want to go in first? Or should I?"

AnyKaat darted forward.

"Wait a minute!" The spacer grabbed and missed. The muzzle of Jo's hairsplitter came to rest beside his left eye. "She can't go in there."

"Why not?"

"Klass is the one we're supposed to get."

"It's your lucky day. You get two for the price of one."

"But..."

"She goes. Or we all stay." She drew the weapon given her by the Ku. "One pop from this and that skin isn't fit for vacuum. Right?"

The turret whined. The air barked a baby thunderclap. Somebody watching had gotten too excited or too close. That would be the only warning shot.

"You got a way with words, Lieutenant."

"You want to get out of here? Let's move."

The spacer climbed a few rungs, stopped. Jo prodded him. He climbed.

AnyKaat waited inside the hatchway. She had another one sprawled on the deck plates. She guessed, "One more in the turret and one in Control. Four is all they have on one of these."

"Control, then."

AnyKaat led. The spacers followed sullenly. The shuttle, despite the turret, was not set up for rough trade. Control's hatch could not be locked and was not closed when they reached it.

The man at the controls was overweight and balding. He eyed women and weapons, shook his head, clucked his tongue. "STASIS can sort this one out." He punched a button. "Come on down, Mag. We're gonna lift."

AnyKaat took one of two empty seats. The older man rolled his eyes. "Plant yourself, Mark. Rest of you get back to the cabin so we can get this circus off the ground."

Jo eyed him, then nudged the man who had lost his seat. "Let's go. Watch comm, AnyKaat."

"I'm on it."

The turret operator was down when they reached the passenger cabin. She was a match for the older man. Was this a mom and pop operation? These days? But this was V. Rothica 4, almost wholly abandoned by House Merod.

Liftoff came so smoothly Jo barely noticed. She divided her attention only two ways, between the people she watched and the people she might encounter soon. The latter had become the greater worry. These seemed content to let station deal with two hardcases.

The shuttle clunked into its dock. Systems wound down. Jo popped her harness and backed to the Control hatchway. "How does it look, AnyKaat?"

"They behaved."

"What have we got? You get a visual outside?"

"There are two Haulers in, one Merod and one Majhellain Specialized. The Merod has been here five months with a down tractor vane. The Majhellain came in last week and is replacing the Merod's vane. I got a visual confirm. The only other ship in is a Pioyugov Traveler, Dawn Watch."

Which meant nothing. Pioyugov Navigation were mercenaries of the pure blood. They worked for anyone who met their price and would play all ends against the middle to squeeze the maximum profit.