CHAPTER TWO
“But the weirdest part,” Lorne said around a mouthful of roast sudeer, “was the out-of-the-sky question about the command area on Warrior’s ship.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jin’s Aunt Thena admonished him mildly.
“Especially when you’re working on your aunt’s cuisine,” Uncle Corwin seconded from the head of the table. “Such works of art deserve your full attention.”
“Right,” Lorne said. “Sorry.” He finished chewing the bite and swallowed. “It really is delicious, Aunt Thena.”
A chorus of agreeing murmurs ran around the table. “Thank you,” Thena said, inclining her head.
Jin blinked back sudden tears. Yes, the roast was good. But it wasn’t like the roasts her eldest son Merrick used to make.
The son she’d left behind on Qasama.
War meant casualties. It meant people dying. She’d known that from the start, from the minute she and Merrick had first seen the shock front of Troft warships skimming across the early-morning Qasaman sky.
Some of those deaths had been quick. Others had been slower, more lingering, more painful. Many more Qasamans had been injured or maimed, some beyond even the ability of the Qasaman doctors to heal. Those victims would carry pain or disability to their graves. For some, their injuries meant those graves would arrive far sooner than they should.
Jin had been prepared for those possibilities, at least as well as anyone ever could be. She’d also been prepared, though not nearly as well, for such a fate to befall herself or Merrick.
What she hadn’t been prepared for was for her son to be taken prisoner by the Trofts, and then to simply disappear.
And the true hell of it was that she had no idea of where he’d been taken. Or, indeed, why.
Her husband Paul was speaking. With an effort, Jin forced her mind back to the conversation. “Yes, Santores threw me a similar question during my testimony,” he said. “In my case, he wanted to know what I knew about navigational systems on Cobra Worlds ships.”
“What did you tell him?” Jody asked from across the table.
Jin focused on her daughter. The question had been an innocent one, delivered in a mostly innocent way.
But there had been something in Jody’s tone. And now, studying her face, Jin could see that there was something going on behind the young woman’s eyes, as well.
“Everything I know, which isn’t much,” Paul said. “Typically, our nav displays show current location, previous location, and the route taken. I know the ship’s computer also stores the locations of all of the Cobra Worlds, plus the main Tlossie, Chriie, and Hoibie trading points. There’s also supposed to be a limited history of recent trips, but I told them I’d never seen one.”
“Did they ask about that last part, or did you just volunteer it?” Jin asked, most of her attention still on Jody. “Seems an odd question.”
“Yes, it was; and yes, they did,” Paul confirmed. “History files were specifically mentioned. My first thought was that they were trying to find where our trading partners’ demesnes were located. But that’s ridiculous. Half the merchants on Aventine know where to find them.”
Corwin cleared his throat. “Actually—and this is all very confidential, so please keep it quiet—”
“If it’s confidential, maybe you should start the quietness by keeping it to yourself,” Paul interrupted quickly. “No offense, but Nissa Gendreves is still pushing hard for that treason trial. There’s no point giving her extra ammunition by passing out state secrets.”
“This isn’t exactly a secret,” Corwin told him. “And under the circumstances, I think you deserve to know. The Dominion isn’t looking for the Tlossies. They’re looking for Qasama.”
“For Qasama?” Jin asked. “What in the Worlds for?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Corwin said. “But Qasama is a lost Dominion colony, and I know that Santores is already talking about bringing the Cobra Worlds’ legal structure back in line with that of the Dominion. You’re welcome to connect the dots however you choose.”
“I don’t think the Qasamans would like the way the Dominion does things,” Jody murmured.
“Oh, I’m quite sure they wouldn’t,” Paul agreed grimly.
“Why don’t they just ask Chintawa for Dome’s records?” Lorne asked. “We’ve made, what, three different trips there?”
“Four, counting your grandfather’s mission to rescue your mother,” Corwin said. “The problem is—and this is where the confidential part comes in—all those records have been expunged.”
Jin felt her mouth drop open. “Expunged?” she echoed, staring in disbelief at her uncle. “I never heard anything about that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The Council and then-Governor-General Chandler ordered that the plan be kept quiet,” Corwin said. “That veil of secrecy applied even to you.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Maybe even especially to you.”
“When did this happen?” Paul asked.
“About three weeks after she returned,” Corwin said. “The Council was terrified that someone would go to Qasama for any of an number of reasons, get himself captured, and that the Qasamans would use his ship and the navigation history files to come charging across space and take their revenge.”
“Which they’d essentially promised to do,” Jin murmured.
“And which the Council of course knew all about,” Corwin agreed. “So when the suggestion was made that Dome ban travel to Qasama and eliminate all records of its location, they jumped at the chance.”
“Well, that was brilliantly forethoughtful,” Lorne growled. “Whose clever idea was that?”
Corwin raised his eyebrows slightly. “Mine.”
For a moment the room was silent. “And your reasoning?” Paul asked calmly.
“They were terrified of the Qasamans,” Corwin said. “And rightfully so, at least if you looked at what had happened from the Qasamans’ point of view. But that kind of terror doesn’t last forever. Sooner or later, whether it was this Council or the next, I knew that someone would eventually find themselves unable to resist the temptation to again go mess with the place.”
He looked at Jin. “I knew how much Daulo Sammon and his family meant to you, Jin. How much the people there meant to you. So I used the Council’s fear to make sure we would never bother them again.”
There was another silence, a longer one this time. “The search of my quarters last night,” Lorne said at last. “They weren’t looking for incriminating evidence. They were hoping I had some data on Qasama.”
“Probably,” Corwin agreed. “I assume you don’t have anything?”
“No, nothing,” Lorne assured him. “I just wish I’d known they were coming. I could have put together a package with enough random numbers to keep them searching for the next hundred years.”
“Just as well you didn’t,” Jin said. “It’s dangerous to play with a screech tiger. Especially one that’s already this mad at us.”
“They can be as mad as they want,” Lorne said flatly. “I don’t really care.” He snorted a sudden laugh. “You know the really fun part? The only way Santores is going to get to Qasama now will be to ask the Tlossies for directions.”
“That irony hadn’t escaped me,” Corwin said. “Though I doubt the commodore is in the mood to appreciate it.”
“I just hope the Tlossies don’t give in to any such requests,” Thena said, a shiver running through her. “After what the Qasamans have been through, they don’t deserve to be invaded again. Even if it’s from their own people.”
“Especially if it’s from their own people,” Corwin said. “And with that, this line of conversation is officially at an end. New house rule: when the discussion starts making Thena uncomfortable, it gets changed.”
“I like that rule,” Jin said, giving Jody a final surreptitious look. Sure enough, with the promise that the topic was about to change, some of the tension had left her daughter’s face.
But only some of it. What was she hiding, Jin wondered, that she didn’t want the others to know?
“Sounds good to me,” Lorne seconded. “Dad, I notice you’re hogging all the extra glaze sauce at that end of the table. How about sending the bowl back this way?”
#
Jody had made her decision right after dinner, as she and Lorne were gathering the dishes and taking them to the kitchen.
But she knew better than to say anything about it then. Nor did she say anything as they all dug into the cake Thena had prepared for dessert. Not until they were all gathered by the front door, saying their good-byes, did she drop the bombshell.
“If you don’t mind, Dad,” she said, “could you and Mom just take Lorne back? I’d like to stay and talk to Uncle Corwin for a few minutes. I can get a cab home.”
She braced herself, waiting for the inevitable flood of questions and concerns. But to her surprise, her parents just looked at each other and then back at her. “Sure,” Paul said.
“And no cab needed—we’ll take her home,” Corwin added.
“Great,” Paul said before Jody could protest. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Jody?”
“Sure,” Jody said, a pang of guilt digging at her. She hadn’t meant to scramble everyone’s schedules this way. Briefly, she thought about backing out and trying to reset this private conversation for a different other time. But it was too late for that now. “I wouldn’t miss the annual Broom houseplant repotting festival for anything.”
“Great,” Jin said. “See you then.”
They left, the murmur of conversation following them down the twinkle-lit walkway toward the gate and the brighter street beyond it.
Jody gazed at their backs as they walked away from her, three shadowy silhouettes in the night. Her mother, who’d had a deadly brain tumor removed by Qasaman surgeons. Her father, who’d had a burned and useless leg regrown by those same doctors. Her brother, whose life had been inextricably intertwined with those of the Qasaman warriors he’d fought alongside in battle after battle.
Her family owed the Qasamans. She owed the Qasamans.
“Shall we go back inside?”
Jody shook away her thoughts. Corwin was standing beside her, but Thena had disappeared, probably to the kitchen to deal with the cleanup. “Sure,” she said, taking a step back and letting her great uncle close the door in front of her. “I’m just—I thought they’d put up more of a fight.”
Corwin chuckled as he took her arm and steered her back into the living room. “If you think we’re that easy to fool, you’re sadly mistaken. We all saw the look that settled across your face during the Qasaman part of the conversation. We were just waiting for you to make up your mind about what you were going to do next.”
“Sorry,” Jody apologized. “But I have to talk to someone. And—”
“There’s no need to apologize,” he chided her gently as he settled her onto the couch and sat down beside her. “We’re family. That means we’re here for each other. So. What’s the problem?”
Jody took a deep breath. Unfortunately, there was no way to ease into this. “I know where Qasama is.”
Corwin’s face went rigid. “How?”
“The Troft transport that Mom and the Qasamans took to Caelian,” she said. “It was wrecked in the crash, but Rashida Vil and I had to go back there to—well, it’s a long story. The point is that Kemp and Smitty realized there was too much food for the spine leopards they were supposed to be transporting here to Aventine, so I downloaded the course history to try to figure out later where the transport was supposed to go.”
“And since the transport had just come from Qasama,” Corwin murmured, “its coordinates are in there, too.”
“Exactly,” Jody said. “So what should I do? Erase the whole thing and keep it quiet? I could. Only—” She broke off, wondering suddenly if she should keep this particular strange thought to herself.
But Corwin was already ahead of her. “Only wherever the transport was supposed to take those spine leopards,” he said quietly, “might also be the place where they took Merrick.”
“Yes,” Jody said, feeling thoroughly miserable now. “But if I keep it, and Santores finds it—” She shook her head. “We owe the Qasamans our lives, Uncle Corwin.”
“I know,” he said. “Can you get into the file and edit out the Qasaman part?”
“Not anymore,” Jody said. “I multi-laced everything to protect it better, and I can’t edit without transferring it all onto a computer. But if I do that now, with the Dominion here—”
“They might be able to pull it out of the system,” Corwin said, nodding. “And they’ve surely tapped into the network by now.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jody said. “I wish I’d done it before they came. But I never expected—” She lifted her hands helplessly. “What do I do?”
“You get out of here,” Thena’s voice came from the kitchen door.
Jody turned, her chest suddenly tight. The older woman was standing there, a dish and polishing cloth still clutched in her hands. “What?” Jody asked.
“You get out of here,” Thena repeated. “I don’t mean here, this house. I mean you get off Aventine, as quickly as possible.”
“She’s right,” Corwin said. “So far Santores seems to be focusing his attention here. If we can get you off Aventine, you may be able to bury yourself away for awhile.”
“At the very least, you can bury your recorder,” Thena added. “When the Dominion goes away, we can dig it back up.”
“If they ever do,” Jody said, her brain racing. Somehow, the thought of leaving Aventine had never occurred to her.
And, really, why would it? Her family was here, and they were in serious trouble. The last thing she would ever do was run off and desert them.
Unless there was a critical reason to do so. “You’re right,” she said reluctantly. “Okay. How do I do this?”
“As quietly as possible,” Corwin said, pulling out his comm and punching keys. “The Southern Cross is currently at Creeksedge,” he said. “Due to leave for Esquiline…tomorrow afternoon at three. Perfect—you can go visit your Aunt Fay. They’re not showing any berths free, but maybe Chintawa can pull some strings and get you aboard.”
“And maybe keep your name out of it,” Thena added. “We don’t want Santores bumping into your name on a ship passenger list.”
“Chintawa will know how to do that,” Corwin said.
“If we can trust him,” Jody warned.
“I think we can,” Corwin said. “As long as we don’t tell him why you’re leaving, I don’t think he’ll be a problem.” He started to punch in a number on his comm, muttered something, and put the device away. “And of course we don’t want this on the comm system any more than we want it on a computer,” he continued, standing up. “Let’s wander over to the Dome, shall we, and see if he’s still there?”
“Okay, but I should probably go alone,” Jody said, standing up, too. “You’re in enough trouble just being related to me.”
“Technically, we’re in trouble being related to your father,” Corwin said with a wry smile. “He’s the one most prominently in Nissa Gendreves’s sights these days. On a more practical level, you need us along because I doubt Chintawa owes you nearly as many favors as he owes me.”
“So it’s settled,” Thena said, setting down the dish and cloth. “I’ll bring the car around.”
“Maybe you’d better stay here,” Corwin said, looking across at her. “If there’s fallout from this later, it would be safer if you weren’t on any of the Dome’s security records.”
“I used to work there, too, you know,” Thena reminded him. “We’re just a happy, innocent couple doing their grandniece a favor while taking the opportunity to catch up with old friends.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the hallway leading to the garage. “I guess she’s going to bring the car around,” Corwin said dryly. “Let’s get your coat.”
Traffic was surprisingly thin tonight, Jody noticed as they headed through the glow of the overhead streetlights. It had been equally sparse earlier when her parents had driven them to the Island for dinner. Maybe everyone had simply gotten used to staying indoors, as they’d been forced to do during the Troft occupation.
Or maybe they didn’t like the Dominion presence any more than they had the Trofts’.
No one talked as Thena drove through her usual maze of back streets. As a child, Jody had fantasized that her great aunt was a secret operative, believing that she drove the city’s back streets as a way to evade capture by shadowy enemies. Only later did she realize that Thena took the slower route simply because she didn’t care for the crowds and higher speeds on the main thoroughfares.
Now, long after the fact, reality and her daydream were finally merging. Thena was, in fact, driving the back streets in an attempt to escape notice.
Only now it was their own government, not enemy operatives, whom she was trying to avoid.
They were out of the maze of backstreets and had just settled onto Appletree, one of the local roads paralleling the wide swath of Cavendish Boulevard, when a pair of headlights behind them suddenly surged forward. Before Jody could do more than glance over her shoulder the car roared past. Thena reflexively tapped the brakes, and Jody grabbed for her armrests as she rode out the car’s slight bucking. “Well,” Jody murmured. “He sure was in a big—”
She broke off as Thena hit the brakes again, this time hard enough to throw all three of them against their restraints. There was a stomach-churning second of fishtailing, and then the car came to a jolting halt behind the vehicle that had stopped abruptly right in front of them. “What in the Worlds?” Jody managed through suddenly chattering teeth.
“Stay put,” Corwin said, his voice tight. “Keep the door locked.”
Before Jody could find anything to say, a pair of figures suddenly appeared beside the car. There was the brief screech of a lockpop and one of the figures wrenched her door open. “Are you Jody Broom?” he demanded.
Jody shrank back against the seat, her mouth frozen, her heart thudding. In the glow of the overhead lights she could see now that the man was wearing the uniform of a Dominion Marine. “Are you Jody Broom?” he repeated.
“I’m Corwin Moreau,” Corwin said calmly from the front seat. “Stop yelling—you’re frightening her. What’s this about?”
“Something that doesn’t concern you,” the Marine growled, his eyes still on Jody. “We want your brother, Broom. Where is he?”
For that first frozen instant Jody thought he was asking about Merrick, that they knew about her recorder, and that it was all over. But a heartbeat later she realized that he had to be asking about Lorne. “You mean Lorne?” she managed. “I don’t—”
“Damn it, talk to me,” the Marine snarled, leaning halfway into the car.
“She doesn’t know,” Corwin said, putting some steel into his tone. “Why don’t you just call him and ask where he is?”
The Marine muttered something under his breath. “Fine,” he said.
And to Jody’s horror he reached in and grabbed her arm. “Come on—unbelt. You’re coming with us.”
“She’ll do no such thing,” Thena snapped.
“Absolutely not,” Corwin seconded, opening his door. “Who do you think—?”
He broke off as the second Marine slammed the door closed again right in his face. “I said she’s coming with us,” the first Marine said. The fury that had been in his voice was gone, leaving a quiet coldness behind. “You want to appeal it, you’re welcome to come to the Dome and talk to Colonel Reivaro. But until her brother comes out of hiding, she’s ours.”
“Okay, okay,” Jody said, her brain finally coming unstuck. She had no idea what might have happened to Lorne, but she had no particular problem with them taking her to the Dome for a few hours. That’s where she’d been headed anyway, and the Southern Cross wasn’t leaving Aventine until tomorrow.
But at all costs she had to make sure they didn’t get hold of her recorder. “Fine. Let go a second, will you?”
Silently, he released his grip on her arm. She turned halfway around in her seat, putting her back to him, and reached one hand down to the restraint release. As she did so, she slipped her other hand into her jacket, pulled out her recorder, and pushed it beneath the armrest. The restraints popped free, and she turned again and climbed out of the car. “But I really don’t know where he is,” she added, starting to close the door.
But it was too late. Before the door could shut the Marine reached past her, caught the edge, and pulled it open again. “In that case, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said. Taking her arm again, he pulled her away from the car.
And then reached in and retrieved the recorder from under the armrest. “Unless this is something you aren’t supposed to have,” he continued, holding it up to the streetlight and peering at it. “What is it?”
“It’s mine,” Corwin said, again trying to open his door. “And unless you have a search and seizure order—”
Once again, the other Marine simply shoved the door closed. “Come on,” the first said, dropping the reader into his pocket and pulling Jody toward their car. “The colonel will sort it out.”
A minute later, they were back on the road, the two Marines in the front seat, Jody in the back.
Her pulse thudding in her neck.
There had to be a way out of this. She couldn’t let the Dominion get into her recorder and find the Qasama data.
Blinking back tears of anger and frustration, she gazed out at the cityscape rolling past. They were fifteen minutes from the Dome, she estimated, maybe twenty if the Marines weren’t familiar with the tangle of streets and the ramps that fed into Cavendish Boulevard.
She had that long to figure out what she was going to do.