Nue watched from the observation room that overlooked the hangar as the Moonsaber took off and Vis’ presence dwindled to nothing. It was an uncomfortable feeling; at home in the Enclave, she could always feel her friend when she wanted to, or find him wherever he was. Sometimes just reaching out to touch his mind reassured her, told her that there was always someone nearby who was on her side, but now she didn’t have that. She was alone in this trial.
Mela stood beside her, watching the hangar doors close shut behind the ship. Some kind of inner turmoil raged beneath her calm demeanour, although the experienced Rashani didn’t seem aware that she was projecting it. Nue’s old teachers had always said she was more perceptive, more sensitive to others’ feelings than most trainees her age. Would a trained Rashani be able to sense what Mela was feeling? Nue couldn’t say. She just hoped her sensitivity would help them find Alis.
Their guide, an Aquila official named Dirn who was dressed in a dark purple suit with a high collar, escorted them through the halls of the Consortium, where blood told the story of what had happened. Every splash of red against the stone walls made Nue’s eyes water in actual pain. It was said that Rashani sometimes suffered from a peculiar psychological phenomenon when in the presence of death, that they imagined sensations from the recently deceased, like echoes. It must’ve all been in her head, but Nue felt it with such intensity that she almost began to believe she was sensing ghosts.
Dirn gave them an impromptu tour, pointing out where they’d found each body and every piece of evidence they had. He explained how the negotiations had been planned to go, with the Alliance hoping to ally with the Kinship against a growing pirate problem. Then he explained what had happened, or at least what the evidence suggested had happened. Communications had been cut, and an unidentified ship had entered Croish orbit and docked with the station without being detected by the numerous security satellites surrounding the planet. This ship had to have contained hostile forces, Dirn explained, because the security logs revealed only a handful of weapons in possession of both the Aquila and human guards. The violence that followed was plain to see all around them.
“We’ve located the bodies of all our security personnel,” said Dirn. “Most of the humans have been found as well, but there are a few missing.”
They entered the central chamber where negotiations were supposed to have taken place. The room was silent and empty, but Nue could almost hear the diplomats speaking, see them shifting in their seats impatiently. The seat at the head of the table had been overturned, and the outline of a figure lay across the carpet, a single dark patch in its centre.
“That was Ahn Delse, a beloved hero and diplomat among our people. An autopsy reveals he was stabbed through the heart with some kind of blade, which we’ve been unable to locate,” Dirn explained. Nue sensed dismay from the Aquila, mixed in with an unhealthy amount of outrage.
“There were two Aquila diplomats, weren’t there?” Mela asked, circling the table. Nue could feel her sharp focus roving across the room, seeking clues and answers.
“Yes. There is no sign of Dae Trem, and we believe he may have been taken hostage.” Dirn leaned a gloved hand on one of the upright chairs, clutching its back tightly. “We have found no trace of the human diplomats.”
The bitterness that swelled out from Dirn as he spoke those words left Nue nauseous, and she had to turn away from him. His mind was made up, and it would take some strong evidence to convince him that the Kinship had not betrayed them. That is, if it hadn’t been a betrayal after all.
“What of Alis?” she asked.
Dirn shook his head. “No sign. We must assume she was taken hostage as well.”
Mela paused with her hands on the back of a chair, probably the very one her fellow Rashani had sat in. “You say that as if it were an easy thing to do. Killing a Rashani is hard, but doable. Taking one alive would be quite the feat, and containing her for any length of time even more so.”
Dirn shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “We have not been able to find any trace of her among the remains on the station. If she was killed, then her body must have been removed without spilling a drop of blood. Given your own opinion on the matter, I doubt a Rashani would go without putting up quite a fight, but there is no trace of such a struggle.”
Mela glanced about the room, seemingly taking in the walls, the ceiling. Nue followed her Sikkat’s gaze and saw that all of it had been untouched by the violence that marked the rest of the station. “I suppose you have a point.” Her words put Nue at ease. Mela was wise; if she admitted that Alis could be alive, then Nue was sure it was true.
“We have a report on Delse’s autopsy, if you would like to read it,” Dirn said.
Mela shook her head. “You’ve told me enough, and I’m no expert on stab wounds. How about you, Nue?”
Nue shook her head quickly. “N-no, Sikkat.” She glanced back to the outline marked on the carpet with its single dark stain of blood. The chair lay beside it, the wood untouched. “He was stabbed through the heart?”
Dirn started, as if just noticing her for the first time. He nodded.
Nue steeled herself and knelt down to get a closer look at Delse’s outline, turning the chair onto its other side with her toe. “But that would have been incredibly bloody, wouldn’t it? There’s not a drop of it on his seat. It should be everywhere, but there’s only this one stain and, well, I’m no expert, but it looks quite small. Could he have been placed here after death?”
A tiny smile crossed Mela’s face. “Has Delse’s blood been found anywhere else on the station?”
Dirn folded his arms, tapping his right index-finger on his left elbow. “We haven’t gotten all the tests back yet—there’s an abundance of blood around, as you may have noticed. We did consider the possibility that Delse was moved, but to what end?”
Mela directed a hand in Nue’s direction, putting her at the centre of attention. “It’s your theory—what do you think?”
Nue felt her body freeze up, and it was an effort to move even her mouth to speak. “It wasn’t really a theory—I was just asking a question. I mean, I suppose it, maybe, uh…” She shut her eyes tight, catching her breath before she continued to stumble over her words. Stupid; of course Mela would expect her to elaborate. This was part of her training, after all. She just hated being put on the spot like this without warning. Quietly, she wished Vis had been there to distract them while she sorted out her thoughts.
A tingle ran up her spine, and for an instant, he was there with her, as astonished as she was. Nue opened her eyes, expecting to see him standing before her, but there were only Mela and Dirn, waiting for her to speak. What? How? As the shock subsided, she realized she had an answer for her Sikkat.
“Maybe it was moved to deceive us,” she said, speaking with a confidence she couldn’t explain. “Maybe his killers wanted it to look as though he died here, so that it looked like he’d been killed during negotiations.”
“Sounds like some sort of conspiracy theory,” said Mela, failing to hide the encouragement in her voice and thoughts.
“And the Kinship helping to put together these negotiations just to kill a pair of diplomats isn’t?” asked Nue, unwittingly adopting Vis’ typical sarcastic tone. She caught her tongue before she said anything more and bowed apologetically. “Forgive me, Sikkat.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Mela turned back to Dirn. “If it’s all right with you, your assistance won’t be necessary for our investigation. Nue needs some breathing room if she’s going to draw out more insights like that.”
Dirn bowed stiffly. “Certainly.” And just like that, he was gone. It was strange, that he seemed to trust Rashani but suspected humans. Did the Aquila really see so much difference between them?
Mela came to her side, arms folded behind her back. “Do you sense any trace of Alis?”
“No,” replied Nue. “Should I?”
“I don’t know. Given your sensitivity, I’d hoped you might.” Mela sighed deeply. “I did not know Alis well, but it always hurts to know a Sister is in distress.”
Nue couldn’t agree more; it was a powerful unease that came from deep inside. If they didn’t find her soon, Nue feared she’d never get a good night’s sleep again.
Mela picked up on her feelings without even trying. “We will find her, dead or alive, and either way we will return her to Utopia. Now, why don’t we inspect the halls and see if we can find out where all of Ahn Delse’s blood went?”
Nue was reluctant to go back out into that place of death, but it was her duty to follow her Sikkat. Rashani were supposed to put fear aside and face danger unflinchingly. Showing she was capable of that was as much a part of the test as the investigation. Most of the blood they came across seemed to have a corresponding outline, muddying their search. Nue reluctantly knelt to inspect a red mark on the floor, her head swimming with those strange death hallucinations. She swallowed, eyes watering so that she could hardly see what was right in front of her. Mela stood close behind, pretending to examine a series of gashes left in the wall left by some kind of weapon. Nue stood back up, wiping her eyes. She was grasping; there was nothing here to discover. The next outline was the same, the imaginings equally unbearable.
A hand closed on her shoulder, and she nearly screamed. She looked up to find Mela’s kind eyes. “I doubt you’ll find anything here. Let’s move on.”
They left the grim markings and walked through the once beautifully furnished halls towards the office the Kinship diplomats had been using. Alis had been hired by the Kinship, so maybe there was a clue to what had happened to her in their room. There was more blood down this way as well, more semi-abstract symbols marking where the bodies had fallen. Nue flinched at each one, and she wished she was down in Croish’s library instead of this slaughterhouse, reading books instead of bloodstains. A flash of feeling brought her to a stop, and she leaned against the wall for support. Alis had been here, had done something. Nue could almost see the Lucidil shaping in Alis’ hands, but then the insight was gone. She glanced to Mela for guidance, but the Sikkat stood rigidly, her eyes wide. Their gazes met, and Mela quickly composed herself, then knelt to search the floor before the office entrance.
No outlines here, meaning no bodies to be found, but Nue’s senses told another story. An echo of desperation and violent intent, then the sudden shock of death. None of these sensations were concrete evidence, and could be the imaginings of a nervous girl eager to please, but Nue crawled across the floor anyway, scrutinizing everything. Her hands combed through the fabric of the carpet, pinching fibres between her fingers. Nothing; no blood, no needle rounds, not even a piece of cloth to tell her what had happened. All she had were her senses, which she was beginning to doubt. She came up against a wall and was about to give up when a tiny hint of colour caught her eye. A thin violet line nestled within the inch-wide crease where the floor met the wall, stretching less than a foot across. She called Mela over.
“What colour is Aquila blood?” she asked.
Mela stooped down and squinted where Nue pointed. “The same colour as ours, I believe.”
The space around the wall was spotless. Even the dust that clung to most surfaces onboard was absent. “Someone did a thorough job of cleaning this up, except they missed this bit here. What has blood like this, Sikkat?”
Mela tilted her head back. “I don’t know. I’ve seen my share of blood, but not enough to identify a species by it.”
“But it’s not human or Aquila?” Nue asked, just to confirm.
Mela shook her head.
Nue took her Lucidil from the small satchel beneath her robes and shaped one end into a sharp point. She pressed the point into the wall, scratching a rectangular mark around the crease. That would make it easier to relocate when she presented her findings to the Aquila. She didn’t know if she was onto anything, but Mela’s curious expression told her she might be.
They went into the office next. Everything looked to be in order, as if the occupants had only stepped out a few minutes ago. A tea cup sat on the corner of the desk, half-filled with cold brown liquid, and a personal computer had been left beside it. A quick examination revealed it had belonged to the older diplomat, Gerald Osterly, and it was apparent the Aquila had already rummaged through its files. Since it was still here, they’d obviously found nothing, but Nue and Mela clicked through it anyway, just in case. Of note was a correspondence between Osterly and the Assembly, which seemed pretty innocent, along with a copy of the treaty they’d been discussing, marked up with digital comments and revisions. Interesting, but not useful to their investigation.
Nue closed the files, but was caught off-guard by the computer’s wallpaper. It was a photo of a family; a man with greying hair that she assumed was Osterly stood front-and-centre, smiling as he rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Their children, all three adults, stood behind them, two of them with spouses of their own and one of those cradling a baby. Nue’s heart sank as she took it in; had this man been killed, or had he had a hand in this massacre? Either way, she felt bad for his family.
They left the office, feeling no wiser. Rashani travelled light, and Alis had left nothing behind for them to find. She’d simply vanished, and there was nothing to prove she’d been here, except a few strong sensations.
Mela somehow walked with a spring in her step. “We should take a look at the communications room.”
“Why?” Asking such a question might reflect poorly on her, but Nue really couldn’t see the point. “I thought there were no distress calls.”
“Exactly,” said Mela. “In the event of an attack, someone was bound to try and call for help. Even if it failed, I’m confident they tried.”
“Do you think the communications were tampered with?” Nue asked, brightening at the prospect of a new lead.
“Maybe.” Mela’s voice was distant. “If not, then we might have grounds to assume the Aquila are lying to us.”
Nue was so shocked, she nearly tripped. “How do you mean, Sikkat? What can they be lying about?”
Mela’s features were still, but a brooding cloud hung over her. “About everything, perhaps—that the human diplomats were behind the attack, that Ahn Delse was killed at that table. Consortium security should have secured the communications room immediately once they were attacked, but then why didn’t they call? Maybe they were trying to keep the Kinship diplomats from putting out their own distress call.”
Nue had never felt so horrified, not just at the suggestion, but that one as intelligent as Mela could draw such a conclusion. “Sikkat, please, you can’t say such a thing! You’re suggesting an Aquilan conspiracy, and that’s just not possible!”
The darkness left Mela and her emotions became calm and neutral once more. “Oh? And why is it impossible?”
It was another test. Nue nearly kicked herself for being so foolish. A wise Rashani like Mela would never jump to conclusions without strong evidence. Besides, if Dirn had spoken any deception to them, they both would’ve sensed it. With the tension gone, Nue took a moment to gather her thoughts into a reasonable argument.
“Why even hold these negotiations if it was only to kill a few diplomats? For that matter, the Alliance’s interpretation is even more baffling—a week long flight on top of months of planning and treaty-writing, just to assassinate one well-liked Aquila? None of it makes sense. There’s something missing, Sikkat, but I can’t see what it is.”
“To the communications room, then,” Mela said, resuming her stride.
When they got there, it looked as if the Aquila had already overturned the entire room in their investigation. Both the on- and off-station communication consoles had been disassembled, their parts laid out in neat piles on the floor and marked with little yellow tags. A lone, unexplained rifle leaned against the far wall; had it been left here during or after the battle? Nue stepped through the doorway and into the room, then nearly screamed when another death echo leapt into her mind. She looked down; she’d put her foot inside another outline, stretched out inside the door’s threshold. She stepped back, her heart hammering.
“Someone died here,” she announced.
“I can see that,” Mela replied, peering over her shoulder. “A male human, judging by the breadth of the shoulders. What else can you tell me about him?”
Again, Nue felt she’d been put on the spot. It hadn’t even occurred to her to differentiate between human silhouettes and the slimmer Aquila by shoulder size, but Mela had done so without pausing for breath. Nue examined the outline and surrounding area, wondering if it would’ve been easier to examine the actual corpse, but the thought made her stomach clench tighter. There really wasn’t anything to see here, not even a drop of blood.
Nue blinked, running her eyes over the outline again, just to be sure. “There’s no blood here, Sikkat.”
Mela moved closer to take a look. “Odd. Maybe this body was moved as well?”
Nue stepped aside to let Mela through, and leaned against the doorway. As she did though, something pricked against her shoulder. She stepped back and checked where she’d leaned; a small chunk of the door frame was missing, leaving a nearly circular hole that she’d poked herself on the open end of. “Sikkat, look at this.”
Mela ran her hands around the blackened edges, her face expressing genuine confusion. “It’s charred here. What do you make of it?”
“Some kind of heat weapon?” Nue suggested, reaching for the stars. “The man’s wounds might have been cauterized the moment he was shot, which would explain the lack of blood.”
“This is a very precise shot.” Mela closed her thumb and finger around the circle’s radius. “The cookers I know of have a wide-radius beam, and would have melted most of this wall and scorched the carpet.”
A stupid, impossible idea came to Nue, but she could think of no other answer. “It could have been a laser. Only, firing a ship laser from outside should have punched a hole through the station and sucked out all the air. Never mind, Sikkat—I should not speak without thinking.”
“A laser,” Mela repeated. She tapped her chin, a spark of delight gradually spreading out to touch Nue’s senses. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Nue. I almost missed this myself.”
“What do you mean?” Nue asked.
Mela knelt down at eye level with the hole, then turned her head in the opposite direction. She stood, walking to the back of the room, and jabbed a finger against the wall, tracing it around another scorch mark Nue hadn’t noticed. It was lighter than the first, and it hadn’t managed to pierce the wall, instead marking it with a faint black circle.
“A laser did do this,” she explained, strangely enthusiastic. “But not a ship-mounted one.”
Nue tilted her head in confusion. “Are you feeling well, Sikkat? You’re not making any sense.”
Mela laughed in a low but pleasant chuckle. “I suppose I must sound off, but please listen to me. Rashani spend so much time dealing with pirates that we sometimes begin to pick up their culture, their folk tales. I’ve heard more than one Rashani back from the frontier telling stories of a ghost ship—a vessel that appears unannounced and attacks vessels, pirating from the pirates. Most of these stories were told to me with a bit of condescension and skepticism, but I remember one Rashani about a year ago who claimed to have seen it. She was working as a security guard for a Kinship mine on a distant moon, when a small vessel seemed to just appear within the security perimeter. She said that before anyone could react, soldiers had been deployed from the vessel and began a raid on the mine. I’m thinking of this story now because of what she said the soldiers were carrying—weapons that fired red streaks through the air, too fast to dodge—handheld lasers. Fortunately for her, this Rashani didn’t have time to get down and engage them before they’d taken what they wanted and gone. She probably would’ve been dead if she had.”
Nue was awestruck. She’d never heard such a story before. “Who were they?”
“Imperials.” Mela nearly spat the word out. “She overheard them talking on their way out and recognized the language. They didn’t wear the traditional uniforms, but she was certain it was them.”
“Do you think they did this?” Nue asked, trying to follow Mela’s logic.
Mela stretched her arms out, one pointed at the far wall and the other out into the hall. “The energy dissipated rapidly, before it could pierce the wall. Judging from the position of both blast marks, it was fired from the hall, which would put its range close to what our storyteller described. The Empire is the only government both affluent and crazy enough to allow the use of experimental weaponry like that. I’m almost certain they were responsible.”
“But the Empire is at least a month’s flight away from here!” Nue blurted out. She clapped her hands over her mouth and bowed apologetically. “Forgive me, Sikkat, I did not mean to question you. But I don’t think we have enough evidence to prove your theory.”
“Enough with the apologies, Nue—you are welcome to speak your mind,” Mela said. “But we have these blast marks, and evidence of blood belonging to neither human nor Aquila. Alone, I would have serious doubts, but both together is enough to convince me. This whole thing stinks of an Imperial scheme—they’re the only ones who could logically benefit from this situation.”
Nue knew too little to question Mela’s conclusion at this point. If her Sikkat thought the Empire was at fault, then there was no reason for her to think otherwise. But then it hardly mattered what an apprentice Rashani believed. “Will this be enough to convince the Alliance that the Kinship wasn’t responsible?”
Mela scowled at a blank wall. “Not at all. Nothing we can say will change their minds. Finding the bodies of Osterly and Rhapsody might shake their conviction, but words won’t be enough. Even if we can convince them of that, it doesn’t help us find Alis.”
Nue’s spirits sank. “Then what do we do?”
Mela met her eyes. “What would you do?”
Nue bowed her head in apology again; it was not right for her to mope. She wracked her brain, gathering up all the clues they had and what she knew of the Empire. “As I said, the Empire’s a month’s flight away, so the attackers won’t have returned yet, if they’re going that way at all.”
Mela seated herself on what remained of a desk, watching Nue with keen interest. “What makes you think they wouldn’t be?”
Good question; it took Nue another moment to finish the half-complete thought. “Because I think they took Alis and the diplomats alive. We suspected as much before we got here, given the lack of bodies. They were taken prisoner, and the only reason I can think of for their captors to do that would be to ransom them.”
Mela frowned. “That’s a very pirate thing to do, but the Empire is hardly in need of money. They could have taken them to extract intelligence.”
The notion rang hollow to Nue. “But what secrets would they know? The treaty’s public knowledge, and neither Osterly nor Rhapsody were part of the Assembly. As for Dae Trem, Mr. Dirn hardly mentioned him, like he was barely notable. It wouldn’t explain why they would take Alis, either.”
Mela rested her hands on her knees. “You’re right—we can’t make any guesses as to their motives just yet, nor can we call on the Aquila for help in our search without more concrete evidence.”
Nue dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Sikkat. I guess I wasn’t of much help.”
She heard Mela stand, then felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the Rashani’s eyes, sensing kindness in her. “You’ve done an excellent job—far better than I expected from a first-time apprentice. You’ve provided me with much to think on, and I just need time to do so. How about we call the Moonsaber back? I need to speak with Othus, and you can get away from all this carnage. It’s been rather oppressive, hasn’t it?”
“N-no!” Nue blushed, trying to hide her humiliation. “I mean, yes, Sikkat. I know what I’ve felt here is not all real, but I’ve had a hard time ignoring it.”
Mela nodded. “So did I, when I first experienced it. Death is an awful thing to be around, and this is more than I would have liked to have exposed you to. Let’s leave it behind and go back to the observation room. I’ll make the call, and then we can have some of that Aquilan tea I’ve heard such good things about.”
* * *
The Moonsaber’s exit ramp hadn’t touched the floor for more than a second before Nue went running into the hangar, leaving Mela to speak with Dirn in the observation room. It was improper to just abandon her Sikkat like that, but she thought Mela wouldn’t hold it against her in this instance. The further she was away from this massacre, the better, and she could already feel the awful sensations beginning to fade.
Vis came trudging down the ramp, head bowed, and Nue came to an abrupt stop. She quested out to him with her mind, but his own was shuttered tightly, and no amount of tickling could get him to lift it. She met him at the foot of the ramp, new anxieties weighing on her.
Vis lifted his head, revealing a brief flash of a frown that quickly flipped into a smile. “How’d it go? Are you a Rashani yet?”
Nue giggled, giving him a little push on the shoulder. “Yup! Mela says I could be a Sikkat myself in a couple of months. Maybe you can be my apprentice.”
“Why stop there? Run for Council—no, even better, become the next Rashani saint, or a martyr. That can’t be too hard, can it?”
Nue laughed again, but not as enthusiastically. “I think I did all right, but I don’t know if we’ve gotten any closer to finding Alis. We’ve found some odd things, though, and I think Mela has an idea of what we should do next.”
Vis craned his neck to peer into the observation room’s window. “She wasn’t too harsh on you?”
Nue shook her head. “She was very encouraging. How are you doing? You look like someone gave you a hard time.”
Vis’ smile faltered. Only a Rashani can lie to a Rashani, and it was sometimes hard to tell when his expressions were genuine or not, especially when he blocked his mind like this. It could be that he just wanted some privacy, but maybe it was something more.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” he said. “I read a bunch of philosophy at the Library, and I’ve been pondering deep thoughts ever since. The common thread I’ve noticed among all the galaxy’s great philosophers is that they were all very long-winded and incredibly depressing. But enough about that—how are you feeling?”
Nue wasn’t sure how to answer. She wanted to tell him about the awful sensations she felt creeping over her, the way her skin prickled whenever she passed by the outlines in the halls, but she held back out of politeness. It wasn’t right to share such things with another, even if he was her friend. They were her burdens to bear, and she was sure they’d leave her in time.
“I felt some strange things,” she said, “but nothing you have to worry about. I just hope I actually helped.”
“I’m sure you did,” Vis replied, and there was nothing disingenuous about that. His eyes glanced over her shoulder, and Nue turned at the sound of approaching footsteps.
It was Mela, her mind still overcast by whatever thought had seized hold of her. She smiled distractedly at Nue, then nodded in Vis’ direction. “How was the Library?”
“I wish I’d had more time—the place was huge,” Vis said. “Have you managed to figure anything out?”
“Some, but not as much as I’d like,” Mela answered. “Dirn has allowed us another couple of weeks to continue our investigation beyond the station. I’ve given him enough evidence to cast doubt on the Alliance’s interpretation of events, but we’ll need more if we want to stop a war.”
“And Alis?” Vis asked.
“I’m hoping she’ll be the proof we need,” said Mela. “A Rashani eyewitness is a source both the Alliance and the Kinship will trust, so our objectives are still one and the same.”
Nue frowned. “But how do we find her? Will the Aquila help?”
Mela shook her head wearily. “The Aquila are currently busy preparing for a possible second attack. We must continue the search on our own. Let us go inside, and I will explain.”
They made their way back onto the ship, and Nue took a moment to wave up to Dirn, watching from the observation room, before heading inside. Othus was waiting in the living quarters, greeting them warmly as they entered. His mind was as tightly walled off as when they’d first met, but he allowed his pleasure at seeing them again to slip through. He was a good person, Nue decided, if a bit overly private.
Mela bowed to him. “Thank you for looking after Vis.”
“No problem—he was a perfect angel,” replied Othus, grinning in Vis’ direction.
“He wasn’t even there half the time,” Vis whispered into Nue’s ear. He probably hadn’t meant it, but his breath tickled against her neck, dividing her attention enough that she had some trouble following the conversation.
Mela continued. “Does this ship have sensors for picking up the radiation from ship engine emissions?”
“Of course—it’s standard issue on most ships,” Othus replied, apparently bemused.
“I thought so,” said Mela. “What about Lacus energy?”
Othus gave a confused smile. “I think so, but why? Are we looking for antiques? Ships haven’t used Lacus engines for almost a hundred years now. They were inefficient and underpowered, plus getting them to work with an Aether drive was a huge hassle.”
Mela nodded, patiently. “I know all that, but I’d like you to check for Lacus energy regardless.”
Othus saluted. “Of course! Forgive my rudeness, honourable one.” He turned and walked back into the cockpit, leaving the door open behind him.
“Why would the attackers use a Lacus engine?” Nue asked, piecing together what Mela had implied.
“So they wouldn’t be found,” Mela replied. “That Rashani I was talking about—the one who saw this ‘ghost ship’—she said she checked every orbital sensor they had to find out how the vessel got past them. There was nothing, not so much as a blip from any of the modern detection modes. Except she found Lacus emissions where they’d appeared, faint but likely strong enough to follow if she hadn’t been acting as a guard. No one uses Lacus engines anymore, so no one looks for Lacus radiation. Every other detection system can be tricked in some way, but hiding engine radiation is still incredibly difficult, unless you know what the enemy isn’t looking for. Our mysterious attackers reached the Consortium without tripping a single alarm, and the most plausible explanation for how that happened is if their ship used an outdated engine.”
“But who are they?” Vis asked.
Mela brushed a hand across her head, smoothing down a few loose strands of red hair. “Empire, I’m sure. Other than that, I do not know. Someone who has access to experimental and dangerous technology like laser weaponry.”
“And you think we can find them just by following their engine emissions?” Vis challenged.
“Vis, don’t be so rude!” Nue chided, although she was equally skeptical.
“No, he’s right to ask,” Mela conceded, furrowing her brow. “I don’t know, but I suspect an inferior engine might limit how far they can travel. They may still be relatively close. We won’t know until we try, and I can’t think of any other options.”
Vis’ shoulders fell. “You may have a point there.”
“That’s good, because I think she may be onto something,” came Othus’ voice from the cockpit. “I’m not an expert on reading this thing, but I think we’ve got quite a bit of Lacus energy around the station.”
Nue looked at her Sikkat in awe. “You were right!”
That did not seem to cheer Mela up. “Partially right. I can only hope that the trail holds, and that Alis waits at the end of it. Othus, would you be so kind as to follow it?”