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“Pugmarten will pretend to investigate. He’ll stall and confuse. By the time they find you, it’ll be too late. We’ll be on our way.”

Pugmarten spoke up. “I’d better get back to work, or they’ll be looking for me.” He dipped his head and strode away.

Trist glanced at her wrist computer.

“How are you going to destroy the battleship?” Kào asked. Clearly, his military instincts had been roused.

“Remotely. The ships are docked; the computers are linked. I’m going to send a signal through the secondary airlock—the one that’s located right above us, as a matter of fact. It’ll cause the engines to go unstable. The warp field will collapse, and the ship will blow up.”

Kào whistled. “Tactical brilliance.”

“I’m an engineer and a pilot—I know something about engines,” the woman replied with no lack of smugness.

Who would have known that the two former rivals would share a love of mass destruction?

“Will the event occur before or after Steeg and his crew come aboard?” A muscle in Kào’s jaw jumped as he asked the question. Jordan couldn’t help thinking of the little boy beaten to near-unconsciousness by the admiral.

“Steeg dies with his ship,” Trist replied coldly. “It’s only Moray whom Sofu wants for questioning.”

“Excuse me,” Natalie interjected in English. “If the battleship blows up . . . don’t we?”

“Not if we break away and run like the wind.” Again, Trist looked at her watch. “Coming here—it’s delayed me. We’re running out of time. I have to send the signal. But the program’s on my computer—and the only other terminal I can safely use is in New Earth. I don’t have time to get to either one. I’ll have to try to send it from here.” She peered around the cargo bay. “Where’s a work station?” she muttered to herself. “I need a computer.”

Dillon pointed over her shoulder. “There’s one.”

“He can smell the things, I swear,” Natalie said under her breath.

Trist plopped into a chair and pulled down a flexible screen as Kào, Jordan, Dillon, and Natalie gathered around. Time was short. Jordan sensed it. It was all she could do not to squirm.

“You’re trying to get into the operating system from an applications program,” Dillon remarked in fluent Key.

Trist gave him a classic double take and banged on the keyboard, her inner anxiety revealed by brutal keystrokes. “It should have allowed me in.”

“You’re not at a recognized terminal.” Dillon moved next to her. “Try this.” He nudged aside her hands. “Sign on and send two breaks. Like this.”

Trist grabbed at her hair. “That doesn’t work, either. I’m going to have to run to my workstation—”

“Hold on,” Dillon soothed as he tried what looked like a random combination of keys. “There we go. Two line feeds and . . . there you are.”

“Ah!” Her face washed free of tension, Trist hunched forward over the terminal. She typed for a moment or two. Then her smile fell. “I got the signal off from here, but something blocked it. It can’t get through.”

Jordan started to wring her hands. Made fists. Crushed
them to her sides. Here they went, up the long incline, all over again. If she got home alive, she vowed never to set foot on a roller coaster for the rest of her life.

Kào, however, met the unfolding situation with stoicism. He was a soldier, a warrior. Men like him took this kind of thing a whole lot better than someone like her: a soccer mom disguised as an airline pilot masquerading as an intergalactic hero.

As if sensing her thoughts, Kào smoothed his hand over her back, his fingers spreading protectively, possessively over the curve of her spine. “You must have routed the signal through the sensor in the airlock,” he surmised.

Trist pursed her lips. “I did. But for some reason, the sensor hasn’t depressed. And so the computer doesn’t think that the ships docked. A minor mechanical function with the worst timing you can imagine.” With her fingertips, she massaged her temples. “I don’t believe this. Everything’s gone perfectly until now.”

“Who else do you have with you to help?” Kào asked.

“There are three of us. Moray is a double agent—has been for years. The Alliance finally figured it out and put several of us on the case. Onboard the ship, he has at least six helping him that we know of. Two are now dead. The crew is ignorant of his treachery, and Moray will do everything in his power to keep them from finding out about his deeds—to the point of keeping his minions ignorant of each other’s efforts. He enjoys his status as a hero. He’d never risk its ruin. His reputation is everything to him, how he’s seen by others. Especially you, Kào.”

“What about the rest of the crew?” Jordan interjected. “If they’re loyal, they can help.”

Trist answered her as she’d asked: in English. “Too dangerous. We are not certain who is who. There may be more of Moray’s people among crew, not known to even us, his
inner circle. We thought for a long time that you were one, Kào.”

It wasn’t difficult to see how much the idea repulsed him as he read her words on his translator.

“But we know now that you were ignorant of his crimes.”

His scowl deepened. “Inexcusably so.”

“But he worked at hiding it from you for a lifetime,” Trist insisted gently. “He loves you.”

A shadow passed over Kào’s face. “You did your best to strain that relationship.”

“It was a side project of mine. I’m sorry. I wanted to drive a wedge between you and your father. I didn’t think you deserved to die along with him for no other reason than loyalty and devotion.”

Jordan was certain that that wedge was her relationship with Kào. Had Trist made love with Ben so she could glean inside details? Spies did that sort of thing. She wondered if Trist had been sleeping with Moray, too, as Kào had speculated. Jordan grimaced. If that was true, the woman deserved a medal.

Again, Trist looked at her watch as if the answer to the impasse would be written there. “Blast this.”

“I’ll see to the sensor,” Rono offered. Trist’s fierce eyes veered to her companion. “No. I need you on the bridge keeping Moray happy. In fact, you’d better return there now. Everything must continue to appear normal and on schedule. The hasty docking tells me that Moray may fear he’s aroused suspicion—or is in danger of doing so. He wants to speed the transfer and return to the Perimeter.”

Jordan watched the man called Rono leave. The creep had been one of the commodore’s aides. But Rono wasn’t a creep at all; he was an intelligence agent, a spy, like Trist. And a hero.

Kào spoke up. “No one will care if I’m seen near the bridge. I’ll go into the airlock.”

Jordan protested.

He shook his head, his cautioning fingers brushing lightly down her spine. He’d made his decision, and he was telling her that. Part of her didn’t blame him for wanting to take an active role in the admiral’s destruction, and part of her wanted to give him that chance. But the rest of her wanted someone else to do it, so she could keep him in sight, so she could make sure nothing happened to him.

Trist accepted Kào’s offer without hesitation. “Make sure the switch depresses the sensor. Hold it down until the signal goes through. It’s a large file. It may take a few minutes. Be certain that the switch remains closed. You’ll be in and out in minutes. I’ve got a program ready to go that will force us to separate from the battleship—an emergency breakaway—so don’t be surprised to hear alarms going off when you get out.” She dug in her thigh pocket. “Here’s a blade—to remove your locator.”

Kào and Jordan exchanged a glance. “I already have,” he said.

Trist briefed Jordan in English. “Soon they will discover that you do not wait on Deck One. Pugmarten will make a report to security that you are not in the cargo bay, but we cannot count on that—as you see, we cannot count on one small mechanical switch. Your airplane is safest place to hide. But there is a risk if Moray finds out you are here.” Trist pointed to the massive cargo bay doors. “Let me tell you a story. Once, on this ship, Moray ejected a cargo-bay full of refugees into space when he thought the Alliance had learned about him.”

Natalie’s hand shot out and clutched Jordan’s sleeve. The idea of it, Jordan thought darkly, mass murder at one man’s whim, made her blood curdle. “Do you think he’d do it again?” she asked.

“He will do anything to continue on as he has always done.”

“I second that,” Kào growled.

“But we can prevent this one deed, at least,” Trist told them. “Do you see the horizontal bar next to the doors?”

Jordan squinted. “The one with the huge hook next to it?”

“Yes. This is a manual override. When the hook is over the bar, it does not allow any command to open the cargo doors.”

“Why would you even have that?” the pilot in Jordan asked. “In case of a computer malfunction?”

Trist nodded. “Today, however, we will attach it for insurance. In case someone tries to open these doors.”

Jordan started walking. “Then let’s put that baby where it belongs.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Natalie, Dillon, you’d better get to the airplane. I’ll meet you there.”

Natalie and Dillon hurried away. The last of the others had long since disappeared into the aircraft. Thanks to Ben’s efficiency, Jordan thought, wondering what he’d say once he heard the news about Trist.

Standing by the enormous cargo doors brought a feeling of vulnerability. On the other side of them was the vastness of space. A frigid vacuum. Infinity. It took her fear of heights and made a mockery of it.

“The hook is too heavy to lift.” Trist spun a wheel that operated a hydraulically driven pump. The hook fell over the sequoia-sized bar with a resounding metallic clang.

Jordan stared at the device. “I feel a whole lot better now.”

“Good,” Trist said. “Now go to the airplane. Use your harnesses. It will be a bumpy ride.”

Jordan turned, and Kào caught her hand. Trist tactfully stepped away, leaving them alone. For a heartbeat, Jordan was unable to say anything to Kào for fear of losing the composure she clung to by a thread. He was leaving. He was going into an airlock to unblock Trist’s signal of destruction.
It was a simple operation; no one would know he was there. But all she wanted to do was fall apart. And she couldn’t, of course. She had to act brave, courageous, everything she’d always thought she wasn’t. “Kào,” she said huskily, “you damned well better come back.”

He grabbed her shoulders, dragging her close. Before he crushed her to his chest, she saw something in his face that frightened her: hunger for revenge, startling and raw, anger that boiled dangerously close to the surface.

“You’ll avenge your family,” she mumbled against his beating heart.

His stomach muscles hardened. “I’ll avenge
everything
. And then I will return for you.” He tightened his arms around her, bending down so they were cheek to cheek. His breath was hot on her ear. “I’ll be back for you, Jordan.”

A chill drifted over her skin, bringing goose bumps. She didn’t dare reply for fear of jinxing his promise. Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his. His stubble pricked her chin, and his skin tasted salty. Her hand flattened on his abdomen as he drew her closer. Love and loss, hope and despair intertwined, irrevocably linked together. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent on a shuddering breath. She took the moment and wished she could make it last forever. But grimly she girded herself for the inevitable.

Just once, she thought, she wanted to be able to love without enduring loss. But for her, maybe that was not meant to be. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d rather die trying for freedom than to live as slaves,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted then. “My God, that sounded noble, didn’t it? But the reality of it sucks.”

He shook his head. “Think of the land, our life, and don’t stop until you see me again. It’ll be my lifeline, those hopes. It will bring me back. It will bring us home.”

Home
.

“And there I will make love to you in the grass.” His voice was husky and deep, steeped in sexual promise. “Wearing nothing but sunshine, covered only by the sky.”

The sensual image he painted with his words was so sharp that it drew out a gasp—one of desire as much as surprise. “But I never told you about my dreams of that.”

“You didn’t have to. I had my own.”

“Ah, Kào . . .” Her hand lingered on his scarred cheek. She saw for the first time that his black-brown eyes were tinted with sherry in the middle. Or had they now finally warmed to that color? The poignancy of the discovery shook her.

Thirstily her eyes drank in the essence of his soul. When her heart couldn’t hold any more, she turned and walked away.

“Commodore.”

Moray glanced up from his handheld. An aide waited for permission to speak. “What is it, Jinn?”

“The refugees are not in the holding room on Deck One.”

“Isn’t that where they’re supposed to be?”

“Yes, sir.”

Moray lowered his computer. “Did you call security?” he asked with forced patience.

“Yes, sir.” Jinn’s smile wobbled. “It’s probably all a miscommunication.”

“I’m sure that’s what it is. Thank you, Jinn.”

Jinn smacked his heels together and strode back to his station. Moray opened his comm. “Trist.”

The woman’s pale heart-shaped face appeared in the viewing screen. His loins tightened with the image of her thrown over his leather bar stool, screaming as he thrust into her. Cold as ice out of bed and hot as fire in it. A good Talagar woman. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Where are your refugees?”

Her face fell. “Sir?”

“They’re not in the holding room.”

“They have to be. I saw them there myself.”

“I’m not going to have to put Kào back on the assignment, am I?”

“No, sir!”

He smiled. She had so much pride. Her ambition would take her far.

“I’ll track them down and report back.”

By the tone of her voice, he had no doubt she would. “I’ll be waiting,” he said and closed the comm.

The aide Jinn overheard Trist’s conversation with Moray. “The refugees?”

“Pugmarten’s going to track them down,” she muttered. “I can’t go. Too much work.” She released a breath of feigned annoyance and sagged back in her chair. Her attention remained on the computer. Kào would be in the airlock by now. Soon the signal would go through. Then there were other steps she’d need to take—and fast. “We ought to have installed a visual monitor in that holding room. Then we wouldn’t have to be bothered with false alarms.”