by Debra Jess
"Rumors only. Our contacts haven't been able to get a clear transmission through to confirm. It's a good guess, though, that Manitac didn't drop in on Dawn's Landing just for an early inspection."
"It's Stratos all over again." His inner pain spilled into his voice, tight with grief.
"Not here, my boy. That will never happen." Joran set down his claffien cup to reach out and pat Daeven's leg, breaking his cold logic with a rare show of warm reassurance. "Stratos was a message Manitac wanted to send to the Shadows, a lesson they wanted to teach the rebellious factions within Unity, as well as the rest of the colonized worlds."
"Some lesson," Daeven said through clenched teeth.
"Yes, well, we did learn a lesson, but we didn't give up the fight, did we? The Shadows saw that we needed a change in strategy, that's all. We adapted, and now we have a chance to strike a critical blow at Manitac. If we keep our mind on the mission and don't get distracted by pretty young shuttle pilots."
Daeven tried to keep his face neutral. His attempt to steer Joran away from Tamarja's situation had failed. If he couldn't find a way to justify Tamarja's life, Joran would order him to kill her. If he refused, the older Shadow would do it himself.
"What if I told you that she might hold the cure for Manitac's memory blocks?"
Joran leaned back, rubbing his thumb around the edge of his cup. "Really?"
"Remember the drug dealer nabbed near Twenty-Two? The one who supposedly suicided on his own product before reaching Jarvis Station?"
Joran nodded. "We never did figure out how he got a hold of the Black Wave, did we?"
"No, we didn't. What I didn't tell you—what I didn't tell anyone—is that Tamarja accidentally ingested some of his powder."
A bark of a laugh came from Joran. "That must have created quite a trip for her."
"It did more than that. She says since then she's started to remember things, remember her past. Nothing definitive, but it sounds as if some of her blocks have eroded, allowing a few of her more powerful memories to leak through."
"Dangerous." Daeven could see Joran's thoughts turn on this new information. "Especially if she's someone's pet project, pardon the pun. The director wouldn't hesitate to get rid of her if Kazamitiru thought she was a threat to this colony."
"I know that," Daeven said. "And so does Tamarja, but consider this: if Tamarja has found a way to break through her memory blocks and regain her memory, the Shadows could recruit her. With her clearance, she could potentially be in contact with the director's inner circle on a daily basis. She could bug the shuttle, overhear the director's plans. She could be an important asset in the overall mission." Daeven took a deep breath. "Imagine the possibilities."
"Oh, I'm imagining them, all right."
While Joran slipped into deep thought, Daeven pressed his argument. "She wants more Black Wave. She wants to try to remember everything."
That snapped Joran out of his musing and sent his eyebrows flying high. "That will kill her."
Daeven opened his mouth, but the tightness in his throat cut off his voice. Just as he might have convinced Joran to keep Tamarja alive, he now had to fight for Tamarja's right to put her life in mortal danger. There was nothing Daeven could do to stop her. Her eyes had told her as much. He hadn't felt this helpless since Stratos, where his brother had died when an entire colony had been wiped out trying to decide their own fate, only to have Manitac make that decision for them while the rest of Unity watched.
"This does, of course, present several scenarios. It could even, upon further thought, help us with our overall mission, the one we've been working toward beyond the boundaries of AuRaKaz."
Daeven frowned. "How so?"
With a smile, Joran told him.
Daeven's eyes widened in shock. "I hadn't considered that."
Laughter erupted from Joran. "You would have, eventually, once you pulled your heart out of this lovestruck cycle."
"So you'll help her?"
Joran rolled his eyes. "I'm helping us, my boy. We still have a mission to complete. Your girlfriend is nothing more than a means to an end. Something you'll need to remember if this doesn't work."
"When can we get it done?“ There had to be a way to do this without killing her. If anyone could figure that part out, Joran could. Daeven would make sure he would. If Joran failed…no, he wouldn’t fail. Daeven had placed his life and his faith in the old doctor more than once, so Daeven needed to hold tight to his belief. It was the only thing he could do for Tamarja.
Joran stood up, indicating it was time for Daeven to leave. "As they say, ‘don't call me, I'll call you.' I…we still need to consider the bigger picture." He stopped Daeven before they reached the door. "You're still a Shadow, Daeven. Don't forget your priorities. I've had my share of undercover romances, and they‘ve all ended badly. If you don‘t think you can commit completely to the cause, then get out of the picture. We don‘t need the complication.“
Daeven nodded before he headed back down the long dark hallway toward the exit. He wasn‘t stupid. If at any point Joran considered him a liability, he wouldn‘t have to remove himself from the picture. Joran would do it for him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cyrek stood on the balcony of the spaceport bay, watching the freighter make its approach, the green starboard lights easily visible against the harsh white light sprayed over the spaceport. Jacking into the comm system, Cyrek listened as the tower gave the freighter instructions, directing it toward the bay where he stood. The freighter dumped acceleration as it smoothly turned from the main gate. The pilot didn‘t have to worry about traffic this time of night so much as he did about grav-resister ferries dashing to and fro, delivering and receiving cargo.
Crawling along each of the bays lined neatly at the back end of the spaceport, the freighter signaled the doors to the bay below where Cyrek stood, the final bay down the line. The doors dematerialized, and the freighter glided inside, killing its lights before settling onto its mark.
Turning quickly, Cyrek made his way down to the bay floor just as the tethers latched.
"Yohzad Cyrek?" the pilot asked as he jumped off the grav-resister just before it leveled with the ground, the bounce to his step reserved only for the freshest of recruits.
"That's me. You must be Third Officer Relzin Eton?"
Rather than being startled that Cyrek knew his full name, the pilot's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Not so raw, and not so naïve. He'd dealt with Manitac officers before. Cyrek smiled to himself, letting Eton sweat.
"I bring greetings from Captain Ballas," Eton said, finally, as he held out a bottle of what Cyrek assumed was a very fine wine. "And his regrets that he couldn't make it planetside himself to see you in person."
Cyrek took hold of the bottle, but didn't give it another thought, setting it on a nearby utility shelf with a clunk. "Please express my thanks to Captain Ballas. You have my cargo on board?"
Eton nodded while fiddling with his ear jack, tucked neatly around his ear, untouched by properly groomed hair. "Two pre-Manitac engines. I have the manifest with the serial numbers for your verification."
Cyrek acknowledged receipt of the information, immediately displaying it on his head-up. Yes, the serial numbers matched. "Thank you. Now…" He reached out and placed a hand on one of Eton's narrow shoulders. "You and I have something to discuss."
He could feel Eton—already standing at attention—stand even straighter. "Is there a problem, sir?"
Cyrek crumpled his mouth a bit. "A problem? Yes, I do have a bit of a problem that needs to be handled, as they say, outside the normal lines of command."
Eton bit his lower lip as he waited for Cyrek to continue, his demeanor even more wary.
As it should be, Cyrek thought, removing his hand from the younger man's shoulder. When a Manitac officer requested something outside the normal lines of command, one could either profit from it handsomely or wind up mind-wiped, depending on the honorability of the officer doing the requ
esting.
"Not to worry," Cyrek reassured Eton. "I don't need you to do anything other than pilot another freighter, somewhat larger than this one, from one of the private bays on Jarvis Station down to this bay."
Eton cocked his head to one side, as if waiting for the bad news. "That's all, sir?"
Cyrek nodded, putting even more charm into his smile. "That's all."
Eton relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his youthful eagerness returning. "I can do that for you, sir. Tomorrow, if you need it done quickly. I'm on leave as soon as this shift ends."
Cyrek had expected as much. The difference between a ship's duty cycle and a planet's day-night rotation often left visiting personnel with odd leave times. As it was, he'd had to rush over here after attending to the Chase fiasco. Because of his connection with Captain Ballas, Cyrek was certain Ballas would have warned him if he had been planning to activate all the prisoner collars. The fact the Ballas hadn't could only mean Ballas didn't know, which meant someone else had issued those orders.
This could only mean Manitac had plans for Dawn's Landing that Cyrek wasn't privy to, and that bothered him. He needed to find out what Manitac wanted from this colony and make certain it didn't interfere with his own plans.
"Excellent." Cyrek pulled his stylus out of his pocket, poking at his display. "I'm transferring half of what you'll earn now. You'll get the other half when the freighter arrives." Eton's eyebrows rose when he saw the figure. "You'll also get a finder's fee if you can locate a dozen or so maintenance personnel who also have some time on their hands and need a little extra credit in their pockets. I'd like to get these engines transferred into the other freighter as soon as possible."
Eton couldn't have bounced higher in his excitement if he had grav-resisters installed in his Manitac-issued boots. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, sir."
"Good. Now let's see about getting you back to Jarvis tonight."
"Uh, that'll mean skipping decon, sir."
"Bah. Don't worry about that. I've skipped decon a time or two myself and look at me." Cyrek pounded his chest with his fist. "The picture of perfect health."
Eton shrugged. "As you say, sir."
"I do say," Cyrek said, with great satisfaction, as he grabbed the bottle of wine with one hand while gently guiding Eton back onto the freighter's grav-resisters with the other. "Yes, I do."
Tamarja didn't know what to think or what to feel after Daeven left her apartment. He knew her, the real her, the person she was before Manitac had blocked her memories. Yet he wouldn't tell her anything, because he was trying to protect her. Hadn't Yohzad told her the same thing? He also knew of her past, yet withheld the information that could free her of the burning curiosity that propelled her down this path. He had said she wouldn't want to know about her past.
They were both wrong. Yohzad might want to protect her from Manitac's retaliation, and Daeven might want to protect her health, but neither truly understood that she would risk both to remember, even though she'd had a taste of what to expect if she were caught.
She couldn't return to sleep, so she washed, dressed, and made her way to the roof. Facility Prime fairly crackled with tension as she passed through the atrium. Black-clad AuRaKaz guards went about their business at each checkpoint, and Manitac security loomed at their elbows.
The maintenance crew had a subdued air about them when she reached the shuttle. No one shouted out a greeting or called for a diagnostic update. Everyone kept an eye on the Manitac grays that circled the perimeter of the landing pad. Dace calmly gave her a nod as she stepped onto the grav-resister that lifted her to the shuttle's entrance, already dematerialized. No one seemed interested in idle chatter, which suited her just fine.
She stowed her satchel before settling into the cockpit. As she jacked in and called for a weather update, the earpiece chimed.
"Are you ready to fly?" Ramsey demanded.
"Will be in a few minutes." Tamarja took a deep breath and let all her conflicting emotions about Daeven float away.
"The director and I are on our way, along with several of our Manitac guests. I'm transmitting a preliminary itinerary."
Tamarja acknowledged the transmission and glanced through the information. "We have rain approaching the coast. We may have a smoother flight if we visit the beachside facilities this morning."
"I'll make the suggestion." Ramsey terminated her communication without further comment.
Behind her, Tamarja heard someone stow their luggage. Unlocking her seat, she swiveled and saw Jita rematerialize the door to the small luggage compartment. Releasing her flight restraints, Tamarja stood up to greet her friend, but even from across the brief distance between the cockpit and the passenger compartment, she could see something was wrong. "Are you okay?"
Jita shrugged. Her pale complexion looked even paler, her freckles darker by contrast. Her normally perfect red hair was carelessly tied back in a bun, wisps escaping down her neck. "How was your date last night?" she asked, dodging Tamarja's question.
Tamarja motioned for Jita to sit down in the first aisle of the passenger cabin, giving herself a moment to think of an answer. They had only minutes before the director and her "guests" would arrive.
"We picnicked on the balcony of the west side executive suite," she whispered, trying to sound excited, but also wondering if Manitac had bugged the shuttle. That would not be unusual. "Joran even played a special song for us. Then Manitac showed up." Tamarja mimicked Jita's shrug.
Jita nodded, perched on the edge of her seat, ready to jump to attention at a moment's notice, but Tamarja could see no real interest in her. Did Jita know something? Her normally bubbly friend didn't need bugs to overhear conversations from across a crowded room. Maybe one of the Manitac officers had said something to upset her.
"Do you know what's going on?" Tamarja asked, resisting the urge to unlock her own seat and slide closer to her friend. The director most certainly would not approve if she found her shuttle in disarray when she boarded.
Moving closer to Jita so they could talk more privately wasn’t necessary as her friend just shook her head. "It could be anything. They might just want to prod the director into speeding along certain projects or increase our output of certain crops, or put a halt to the contract negotiations. That's usually what they demand during their inspections."
"Yeah, but crop outputs and contract negotiations wouldn't have you looking so depressed."
"I'm about to spend all day surrounded by a pack of surly, pompous Manitac officers with unreasonable demands and impossible-to-answer questions. This flight is going to be a nightmare." Jita bit her lip for a moment and closed her eyes.
Tamarja had never seen Jita as anything but the confident hostess who could handle the roughest characters with a smile. After all Jita had done for Tamarja since she arrived on Dawn's Landing, she felt she should at least hug the woman and say a few comforting words.
But before she could, Jita took a long, slow breath and gave Tamarja a small smile. "I'm overreacting. Ignore me."
Voices rose from outside the shuttle. They didn't have time for further comfort, but Tamarja still took a moment to give Jita's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Hang in there. The director knows you can handle this, or she wouldn't have allowed Ramsey to assign you anywhere near this flight. Manitac's goons will probably be more interested in bothering her than in you."
The voices grew louder. Moving together, they stood shoulder to shoulder at the shuttle entrance as the director and a heavily decorated Manitac officer entered.
Tamarja smiled as Jita greeted the director and the Manitac officers that followed. The delegates Tamarja had been shuttling around had, at best, acknowledged the hostess's greetings with a return smile and a polite nod of the head. At worst, they would just ignore both the hostess and Tamarja. Not the Manitac officers. There were only three of them, and each one stared at Jita and Tamarja with cold, calculating looks. Jita was right—they had an agenda, and it had nothing to do wit
h crop output.
"Good morning, First Officer Cyrek."
At his name, Tamarja jerked her attention away from the other officers as they settled into their seats to see Yohzad step off the grav-resister platform and enter the shuttle. The heat of embarrassment spread from Tamarja’s cheeks to her toes. She needed time to put last night into perspective before she could be comfortable in his presence again.
"Good morning, ladies," he said, slightly out of breath. He turned to Tamarja. "Glad to see you on board, Captain Chase." His hair looked wet, and his uniform had a few damp spots around the collar.
"Oversleep?" Tamarja guessed, trying to act as natural as possible.
Yohzad's smile widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Last-second invitation. Got caught in the shower. I'll get a good telling-off over the uniform later."
He winked at Jita and turned to find a place to sit.
Jita didn't look any calmer than before Yohzad had arrived, but Tamarja felt a little better with him on board. If nothing else, he was a familiar presence, not some random flunky. Even her mortification from kissing him couldn't last long in his presence.
A quick check-in with Ramsey before lift-off told her they'd be sticking to the original flight plan, weather be damned. Tamarja gently lifted the shuttle into the air.
As soon as they were airborne, she unlocked their seats, but no rumble of moving equipment sounded. She switched channels on the head-up, so she could keep track of passenger activity. No one took advantage of the director's adjustable seating patterns. All the officers, including Yohzad, sat in the default configuration, even rows facing forward. The tension in the air was so thick she could taste it. If the weather rolling in caused a problem with the shuttle's shields, Tamarja would have no difficulty locking down the seats. She doubted anyone would even notice.
She didn't have a lot to monitor. Jita tried to start her introductory spiel, but the Manitac officers rudely interrupted her. Yohzad tried once or twice to break the uncomfortable silence, but he too was told to keep quiet. The director said nothing to the officers about their behavior. Both Yohzad and Jita stopped trying before Tamarja made her approach at their first stop.
