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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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I’d tried other people’s knockout drugs over my career—or more precisely, been unwillingly dosed with them—and speaking purely as a target I had to say that the one I used was a far superior product. Some drugs had left me woozy or nauseous, while others had forced me to wake up in stages, with consciousness returning noticeably sooner than nerve endings or muscle control. My drug, in contrast, brought me fully awake within a few seconds and with none of the more unpleasant side effects.

Of course, I did wake up flat on my back on the dayroom deck, a knot on my forehead where Kiolven had apparently let me hit the floor without trying to stop me, and with heavy-duty conduit tape tying my wrists together. But you couldn’t have everything.

Carefully, I opened my eyes. I was lying beside the pantry at the starboard side of the dayroom, as far from the open hatchway and any shot at escape as possible. Kreega and Galfvi were sitting together on the dayroom foldout couch, their wrists secured with the hack-proof magnetic shackles and chains that had been pulled from their hidden compartments in the wall behind the two of them. Selene was on one of the fold-down seats, her wrists and ankles trussed up like mine, her torso and legs also taped to the wall for extra security.

Sitting on the fold-down on her far side, my plasmic in his lap and his eyes focused on Galfvi, was Kiolven.

“Finally,” he said, turning to face me with an expression I’d never seen on a Patth before. “You should know that over the past five hours I considered killing you.”

He stood up and took a step away from Selene. “Considered it many, many times.” He lifted the plasmic and pointed it at my face. “I restrained myself because I knew it would be too easy.”

“It would also be horribly wasteful,” I warned, my heart kicking up to full throttle. I didn’t know what emotion was behind that look, but the rest of his body language screamed something from the insane rage category. “The two billion commarks, remember?”

“Two billion commarks?” He shook his head. “No. I no longer believe that was truth.”

“You saw the places where missing components used to be,” I persisted. “You saw the one I replaced. Just let me get the key, and you can have the rest of them.”

Again, he shook his head. “You truly do not understand the Patthaaunuth, human. For us, personal pride and the thirst for revenge will always win out over money or even power. You have shamed me in my eyes, and in the eyes of these others.”

He drew himself up. “If Galfvi’s crimes against his family were sufficient for me to erase his memory from the universe, how much more should I be driven to erase yours?”

“It’s an interesting dilemma,” I agreed, trying to work moisture into a suddenly dry mouth. “But as my father used to say, When you hold all the cards, curiosity doesn’t cost anything. Wouldn’t you like to know why I took the knockout pill?”

For a few of my highly accelerated heartbeats he seemed to consider. “Tell me.”

I looked at Selene, saw the tense confirmation in her pupils. “Two reasons,” I said. “First, I didn’t want your Iykams around for this part of the conversation. Too many extra bodies, too many extra guns, and they’d have wanted a cut of the payoff.”

“And you thought they would become bored and leave?”

“Not bored, no,” I said. “But leave, yes. Because you’d commandeered them from their freighters, and you could only do that while their ships and pilots were in port. Once the freighters approached their scheduled departure time, you had no choice but to let them go back. I hoped a five-hour nap would do the trick.” I made a show of looking around. “Seems I was right.”

“I could have held them,” Kiolven said. “Galfvi’s family is strong, and strength is still the deciding factor.”

He shifted his aim, focusing his plasmic now on my right arm. “Perhaps I failed to mention that before they left, they searched this ship. They searched it thoroughly. They found no key.”

“That’s because it isn’t meant to be found,” I said. “But there was a second reason.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “All that matters is my reason for letting you sleep to the drug’s completion.” He cocked his head as if doing more pondering. “Perhaps I will begin with your remaining arm.”

“That seems way off from your usual style,” I said, forcing a puzzled frown onto my face. “When you killed Willie, Braun, and the Javersin brothers you didn’t make them suffer.”

“I killed only the brothers,” he said. “Venikel dealt with the others. And none of them suffered because none of them tried to make a fool of me. Or perhaps I’ll begin with one of your eyes.” He raised his weapon to point at my right eye.

“Because that’s been bothering me,” I said, trying not to wince. “This tradition of expunging family members must be pretty ancient. Has anyone tried to modernize it? You know, bring it into the era of space travel?”

“No; the arm,” he concluded, again shifting his aim.

“But you really need to hear my second reason for taking the pill,” I said quickly. “I dropped a note back by the portal, and I had to give the intended recipient time to find it and read it.”

“Whatever its contents, they are meaningless now,” Kiolven said calmly. “If indeed there even was such a note. The Iykams searched the ship, the entryway is deadbolted, and we are alone.”

“Oh, no, there was a note,” I assured him. “Let me quote the first part for you: I have information that you urgently need and which you cannot obtain without me. The price is that you must first save my life.

Kiolven tilted his head slightly, the first hint of uncertainty touching the stony resolve of his expression. “Who was this note for? Tell me his name.”

“You know his name,” I said, shifting my attention to Kreega as she sat silently beside Galfvi. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Selene bend forward slightly, easing her bound hands awkwardly toward the underside of her fold-down.

It was a subtle enough movement. But Kiolven was a professional, and was thoroughly keyed up, and even as his eyes automatically started to follow my own gaze he spotted Selene’s movement and spun back to her. “Stop,” he ordered, swinging his plasmic around to point warningly at her.

“The rest of the note,” I continued quietly, “had the instructions on how to get into the Ruth’s secret back door.”

Behind him in the open hatchway a figure slipped silently into view in the half-lit corridor, a plasmic ready in his hand. The weapon spat a single, blazing shot, and with a scream of rage and pain, Kiolven spun halfway around, his weapon flying out of his ruined hand.

And as he fell to his knees, still burbling in agony, Expediter Huginn stepped calmly into the dayroom. “That what you had in mind, Roarke?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. “Pretty much exactly. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Huginn stepped around behind Kiolven, dropping a compact medkit on the deck in front of him and kicking away the other’s smoldering and useless weapon. “Let’s get these people untied and out of here. I’m sure Detective-Sergeant Kreega has a couple of hours’ worth of paperwork she needs to get started.”

He gave me a cool, measuring look. “And after that,” he added softly, “you and I need to have a long talk.”


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