Afterburn

B urn left the aquatic treatment center with Onkar, made the uncomfortable transition from tank water to breathing air, and waited outside the FreeClinic for the females to sort things out with the Ylydii. He didn’t like the big, gaudy female ambassador, but she had the right to be angry with him. Politicians seldom did or said anything that made sense in his view, but he had killed unnecessarily. It was only her suggested punishment that made him fume.

Have me neutered. “I know why the Ylydii males were so small and timid,” he said out loud to Onkar. “Carada and her kind probably emasculate anyone who isn’t.”

Onkar didn’t seem amused. “Their customs seem strange to us, but they do work. Teresa told me that the Ylydii species is as old as our own.”

“They use their voices and those flowing fins. Once they make a sort of net with their fins’ membranes, the females direct a loud, tightly focused series of tonal pulses toward the center of their feeding grounds. The sound waves have no affect on the Ylydii, as their haffets evert during the song, but the prey is lured into their nets. They eat whatever they catch.”

Some of the sounds Liana had made had pricked the insides of his haffets, but he had merely thought it more of her offworlder’s strangeness. “Have you ever heard them?”

The big male didn’t take offense. “You will understand how it is when you discover a female for whom you care above all others.”

That reminded him of Liana. Burn hadn’t been able to speak to her, and no one would tell him where she had been taken. He had not been able to tell from her brief appearance if she had suffered any complications from the injuries she had received at the hands of the mercenaries. Carada driving her out and not knowing where Liana was now had him on edge.

There had also been something strange about her deliberate defiance of her mother and the public announcement of gratitude. He couldn’t quite say why, but he had the feeling she hadn’t done it out of true gratitude or at all for his benefit.

Onkar was a good companion. He kept Burn distracted by talking about their mission and how they might improve their response time and patrol formations during the next. He did not speak of the dead, or of the ambassador’s damning remarks. By the time Jadaira rejoined them an hour later, Burn felt much more settled.

“Dr. Mayer and Elder Nathaka mu Hlana were called in to consult on the problems, and we’ve worked out an agreement with the Ylydii ambassador,” Dair told them. “A detachment of ’Zangian SEALs will be assigned as escort and guard for her and her entourage during the Peace Summit.”

Dair shook her head. “The SEALs will be male. They will serve as representatives both of the ’Zangian species and for Bio Rescue. Our presence will demonstrate the basic principals of the effort: to protect and preserve life, not destroy it.” She faced Burn. “You have been chosen to lead the SEAL detachment assigned to the ambassador.”

“The ambassador was very specific about having you as detachment leader,” she told Burn. “I was just as surprised to witness her change of heart. But then, she’s a diplomat, accustomed to dealing with hotheaded idiots and making compromises. You should be grateful she’s so forgiving.”

“I didn’t do anything that requires forgiving, Cousin. In fact, I . . .” Burn caught the quick fin gesture Onkar made and swallowed the rest of his protest. “Very well. I’ll play watchout.”

“This Peace Summit is important.” Dair sounded tired now. “Our people are deeply involved in what will be discussed. The settlement of the Skartesh, aquatic territorial and resource management rights, even the very survival of the Ninra species, could be decided during these talks.”

Burn could just imagine the endless hours of listening to the politicians drone. What frightened him was the thought of making another mistake. This time he might kill Liana and the other Ylydii. “All that has nothing to do with me.”

She scowled. “You are no longer a podling whose chattering can be indulged and overlooked. Each word you speak, each action you take could influence those making these decisions. Their decisions in turn will affect millions of lives. It is your choice, cousin, but I think it is time you began conducting yourself like a responsible adult.”

Burn didn’t care about his behavior. He needed to see Liana again, though, so he would take the duty assignment. He might not be allowed to speak with the ambassador’s daughter, but at least he could watch out for her. And he would not make any mistakes.

“Very well. I’ll escort them, guard them, and listen to that harridan purge her gullet every two seconds. I won’t twitch a gillet the whole time. Whatever you say.” Burn glanced back at the treatment center. “Is there anything else she wants?” He wanted to be sure there was no more talk of gelding; deserved punishment or not, he happened to be very fond of his penis.

“Besides biting the Ninrana ambassador in several vulnerable places and having her ship completely sterilized? Not at the moment, but I’m sure she’s preparing a new list.” Dair shook some of her gillets out of her face. “Security would like you to file a full report of what occurred on board the Ylydii ship. I’ll take a copy of it.” Dair’s expression changed and she pressed one of her hands against her belly. “Now I’d like to get wet, before I start purging again.”

“My heart has been fluttering all day,” Dair admitted. “I had better go and see Mom. That should make her happy; she’s been signaling me since sunsrise.”

“Chief.” Shon entered the office when the head of colonial security was poring over evidence scans. “You needed to see me?”

“We picked up a tiny amount of DNA off one of the derelicts that doesn’t match any member of the crew. We don’t believe it belongs to a courier, either.” Norash handed him a copy of the cell profile scan. “You’ll recognize the profile.”

The cells that had been recovered gave no indication as to the species, gender, or age of the body from which they had been shed. “This changes things.”

“I thought you might be intrigued.” Norash offered a disk. “Your new orders. I want you to find who this DNA belongs to, and bring them in for questioning.”

Shon accepted his orders and tucked the chip in the vest pocket of his flightsuit. “How much resistance did Quadrant Intelligence give you about pulling me for this assignment?” he asked Chief Norash.

“As much as they could without making direct threats to have me assigned to waste management for the remainder of my existence.” The Trytinorn came around the big console. “Let’s take a walk.”

Strolling with a being Norash’s size required constant vigilance, so as not to stray under his massive feet, but Shon had an idea of why the security chief wanted to leave the building.

“Recording drones, yesterday. I like a clean office; Intelligence should have considered that and embedded them in the walls. Instead they attached them where they believed I do not dust.” Norash paused by a communications dish, where the strong signal output would mask their conversation from any nearby or hovering surveillance devices. “Major, your orders were approved solely because quadrant wants to know what they’re dealing with here. That paranoia, however, will protect you only so long. Eventually Intel will find a replacement expert or consultant to send here, and yank you back to oKia.”

Shon looked out over the horizon, to where the twin suns were setting. “I will not be returning to my homeworld. Not now, not ever.”

“I thought not.” Approval gleamed in the Trytinorn’s small eyes. “I’ve never had much use for intelligence operatives, but you’ve done some remarkable work over the short term of your career. My people believe that a life lived with honor is reborn to its reward. If that is true, Major, I envy you your next existence.”

Shon left Norash and went down to Main Transport. The ’Zangian planetary patrol had landed, and the pilots who had flown their patrol shift were coming in from the docks.

One female pilot walked by herself, keeping slightly apart from the others, and bypassed the hangar where the relief shift waited to enter one of the engineering bays. Not knowing exactly why, Shon followed.

He entered the bay to see that the lone ’Zangian female was Dair’s wing leader, Saree. Saree was talking to Verrig and gesturing back to her strafer, the Sandpearl. Verrig nodded a great deal and took notes as she spoke.

Saree was the most demanding member of the pilots’ pod, Shon recalled, and always flew alone. The other pilots respected her, but her general demeanor was so aloof that few spent any time with her.

Shon personally thought she was a spectacular pilot, but didn’t know a single thing about her other than her ability to handle a strafer in space. For a ’Zangian, Saree was remarkably unfriendly.

The ’Zangian pilot looked toward him and rapidly finished her conversation with Verrig before coming over to confront Shon. “Is there something you need, Major?”

He needed more than the orders in his pocket, or the prospect of assuring that he would never return to oKia. Given the unique profile of the DNA recovered from the mercenary ship, he needed answers, and he needed them now. If he didn’t obtain them, everything he had done to preserve the peace in this system would be made a total, utter waste.

“I’m going for a dive.” He kept his tone casual and nonthreatening. “I thought I’d see if you were interested in coming with me.”

“You obviously haven’t been paying attention around the pilots’ pod,” she said, “or you’d know that my kind are never alone.”

She inspected him. “This sharing a swim—it wouldn’t be some sort of prelude to a mating ritual among your kind, would it?”

Shon laughed. It had been so long since he had done that; the sound came out harsh and dry. “No, Pilot. If I wanted to mate with you, I’d seize your neck in my teeth and throw you down on all fours. Or fins, to be more precise.”

Shon took her to the coast in his personal glidecar, which evidently pleased the ’Zangian female, from her vocal admiration of the interior.

“I thought ’Zangians weren’t interested in such material things as glidecars and dwellings and so forth,” he said.

“Generally we aren’t, but I like these private transports.” She touched the smooth upholstery with a careful fin. “They’re so efficient and they can move so fast when you want them to. They make being topside almost tolerable.”

She turned her attention to him. “If you need to confide something personal to me, it would be best to do it now. You can’t do much talking with a regulator in your snout, and once we’re downside, everyone will hear.”

“Not a snout, a mouth. Or, at least, I had a mouth when I was oKiaf.” He felt the elongated lower half of his face. “Now I think this classifies as a muzzle.”

“You’re a fighter pilot, Lieutenant. You’ve been trained to operate some of the most sophisticated equipment in the League, specifically to track, disable, and destroy the enemy. Yet despite your training, you never fire your weapons to kill unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He glanced sideways. “I find that a little strange.”

“I joined the SEALs to protect my homeworld. I wasn’t looking for a fight.” She made a fin gesture he didn’t understand. “I may not be the best-loved among my people, Major, but I love them with all that I am.”

She sounded sincere enough to make him uncomfortable. Still, Shon pressed her. “If the pod asked you to do something that required you to kill—kill something innocent, for example—and you knew that if you didn’t, some of them would die, what would you choose to do?”

“I would make the choice for the greater good, which would likely mean I’d kill the innocent.” She moved her body in a ’Zangian version of a shrug. “War often forces us to make such unpleasant choices. You know that.”

He nodded. It was the sort of answer he had expected from a member of the coastal pod. That and a DNA screen should clear Saree from his list.

“I did not agree with this war,” Saree continued, startling him. “I am a territorial creature, and I understand why the Hsktskt feel the need to defend their space.”

“The League came into Hsktskt-claimed territories and established colonies without asking permission,” she said. “Then came the decision to outlaw slavery, something the Hsktskt have practiced and profited from for millennia. I do not believe the Faction was consulted about that, either.”

He brought the glidecar to a stop and stared at her. “Are you telling me that you feel sympathetic toward the lizards?”

“I do not like the Hsktskt. I do not agree with their practices. It does not change the fact that we started this war, not them. The Hsktskt had to fight or the League would have destroyed their territories, their trade, perhaps even their civilization.” She gestured toward him. “Were you in their place, what would you do?”

“I’d know what I was doing was wrong.” Shon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Just whose side are you on?”

“Your people eventually would have been enslaved or obliterated by the Hsktskt,” Shon pointed out. “Under the League, you continue to enjoy your freedom.”

“Is that what you call this?” Saree seemed amused now. “The League established a colony here—without consulting us—and made great changes to our world. Teresa and others like her told us that we must learn to be more like they are. They have educated and even alterformed us to be more like them. There was nothing wrong with what we were.”

“Have we? I do not see how. At this time we are told that we must provide a home for the Skartesh, and water for the Ninrana, and placate the Ylydii. All because the League thinks these things are right. There is no talk of what will be done for the ’Zangians.”

“True. Had we been left alone, we would still need nothing from you. We would not be involved in your disputes and your wars. We would have the life we once enjoyed, before humanoids came here. That is freedom, Major. What the League offers is nothing more than a benevolent and intrusive dictatorship.”

Shon felt like shaking her until her teeth rattled. “With your attitude, I’m surprised anyone lets you have a ship.”

“I fight for the League, and my people. I kill beings who are in my eyes innocent of any transgression, and by doing so serve the greater good. I do not have to like it, or even understand it, to do it well. Perhaps I am more suited to being League than Hsktskt.” She looked out at the cliffs. “Are you certain that you still wish to dive with me?”

“I’ve always liked you, Major. You sacrificed much to help protect the Skartesh. More than anyone knows, I suspect, and that is something that I do understand.” She nudged him. “Come on. I want to see if you can move underwater any better than before.”

No one at K-2’s medical facility paid much attention to Liana. After her aborted attempt to speak with Burn, she was forced to remain inside another, shrouded, treatment room. As she waited for Carada’s negotiations to end, she was given a quick examination by a male aquatic physician and treated for minor hide abrasions.

“If these become inflamed or painful, please report back for treatment,” Dr. mu Cheft told her. “I’ll start you on an antibiotic.”

A medicine, she guessed. Her kind made use of some compounds to ease pain, but only after grievous injuries. Thanks to the clean, salty content of their waters, they rarely suffered infections.

A humanoid female colony administrator interrupted the examination and asked permission to speak to her about Carada. The physician left them alone, and Ana Hansen explained her concerns.

Liana wanted to shriek at the other woman; instead she gave her permission for what she wished to do. She rather doubted it would have any effect on Carada, but to refuse would seem suspicious.

The physician returned to complete the exam, and also insisted on scanning the contents of her stomach and blood before releasing her to rejoin Carada. By that time the ambassador had been treated, had settled matters with the organizers of the Peace Summit, and was preparing to return to their ship.

Lady Liana. Fokrej, the male valet Carada had assigned to her, led her into the ambassador’s treatment tank. Slightly larger and thinner than Miglan, the valet had doubled as Liana’s chaperon since they left Ylyd. His face had a distinct, sour cast to it, and he was rarely pleased with anything. Your mother wishes you to accompany her in the transport.

She deftly avoided the stunted veils he stretched out toward her. Fokrej liked touching her, especially when they were alone. I thought you were killed along with the other members of the crew. She would have prayed for it, if she had believed in a higher power.

When the intruders stormed our compartment, the ambassador risked her own life to shield me, Fokrej informed her as his gaze moved with an oily slyness over her body. If not for her gracious protection, I would almost certainly be dead.

Carada was being adorned by Miglan with a new collection of ornaments, and barely glanced up as Liana presented herself. You took too long. Did they find something wrong with you?

Liana could tell no difference in Carada, and assumed the furtive treatment had, as she had guessed, no effect on the big female. Not really. The doctor was concerned that the cuts from my bonds may become infected. He wishes me to return for treatment if they do so.

They will not, the ambassador said. These ’Zangians have replaced the ship’s atmosphere. It is only a synthetic seawater, but it is clean and free of contaminants, and will serve until fresh replacement can be brought to us from Ylyd.

We will not be able to wait long for the water, Liana said, and flinched as Fokrej came and draped one of his veils across her back in a familiar, friendly manner. Small barbs hidden within his veils bit deep into her hide.

I know this, Carada said as she shrugged into a bifold cape that dangled polished shells across her wide upper torso. The fleet is en route here, and then we may proceed with the summit.

Liana waited for her to explain herself. Fokrej was doing his best to provoke a response, as always, but she had learned that reacting to the tiny, furtive injuries he inflicted on her was exactly what he wanted. Pretending she felt nothing infuriated him, and he drove his barbs in deeper.

Liana would have done anything to escape him—and would have bitten off one of her own veils to retaliate—but Carada was watching. Carada knew the valet enjoyed tormenting her. She also knew what Liana was willing to tolerate to accomplish their goals.

You defied me in front of everyone today. Carada came forward, knocking Fokrej away and crowding Liana into a smaller adjoining space. It turned out to be the transport tank to the Ylydii ship. You will be punished for it.

It did not take long for the transport to cross the land between the medical facility and the docking pads at Main Transport. Along the way Liana had the chance to look out and see the land-dwellers going about the business of their daily lives.

How bizarre it was, to see soil not covered by water, and the erratic, sometimes jarring motions the land-dwellers had to make to cross it. They seemed almost like two-dimensional bottom-feeders, for they could only go back and forth in linear directions, their lower limbs barely clearing the ground before returning to touch it again. It must be like living forever bound and tethered.

Burn can do that. She knew ’Zangians could live above or below, although they preferred the water. His people were also making an evolutionary shift that would drive them out of the sea, and in ten or twenty centuries they would be forced to live on the surface permanently.

The ship had been attended to by the Transport workers and was restored close to its original condition; the bodies cleared out and the liquid atmosphere drained and replaced. The new liquid felt cooler and tasted less salty than Liana was accustomed to, but it was acceptable.

He allowed her to make it all the way to the corridor before he caught up with her. The ambassador’s orders were very specific, my lady. His barbs latched into the soft surface of her hide again, but there was nothing secretive about the way he touched her now. You are to come with me.

Liana showed no emotion as the valet guided her through the corridors to an isolation tank. She had been brought here three times since they left Ylyd, and she had learned that resisting only made it worse, and the punishment harsher and longer.

Fokrej left her to seal the access hatches. Once they were locked in and alone, he dropped his pose of the obsequious servant and darted at her, his veils spread wide. A fine, netlike, iridescent material now covered his barbs completely.

Before he had joined Carada’s staff, Fokrej had been one of the few males to serve in Ylyd’s security forces. Too physically weak to serve as a soldier, he had concentrated his efforts in their intelligence division, where he had been taught his specialty: the effective and relentless interrogation of prisoners.

You humiliated the ambassador. You openly defied her and spoke when you were told to be silent. Part of Fokrej’s routine was to list Liana’s imagined crimes, and give her the opportunity to argue or plead. He seemed to think any protest she made was a form of groveling. Do you wish to deny this?

Nothing to say? A shame. You were so verbal earlier. He darted around her, drawing it out, waiting for her to make the slightest movement. Thanking that butcher for your life the way you did; that showed an enormous lack of taste, dignity, and self-control.

Liana felt him slow as he came around behind her, and then the first slap landed. A sensation like a hundred thousand barbs stung her hide before pain radiated down into her flesh. Water rushed into her gillets and out through her gill vents as she tried not to fight the pain.

The ambassador gave you specific instructions, and you ignored them. Fokrej struck her a second time, this one landing across the base of her back veil. You have been told repeatedly that such public disobedience will not be tolerated.

Liana panted. The neural web Fokrej used to lash her hide was a clever device. It sent bioelectrical charges through her nerve endings and into her brain, where it stimulated her pain receptors. The intensity of the charges could be adjusted to inflict anything from mild discomfort to mind-rending agony. The effects lasted several minutes, but never left any permanent physical wounds or damage, and could be administered as often as desired without fear of killing the recipient.

That was the beauty of the device, and why Fokrej enjoyed using it so much. With the web he could torture someone as much as he wished.

Liana understood the power of pain. In the right hands, it became a tool to shape and bend a mind to another’s will. Because of her unique affliction, she was also able to think through pain, and isolate it, and in many ways disconnect it. She had used that enormous self-discipline before, to great effect. The last time Fokrej had beaten her, she had endured in silent indifference until she had lost consciousness.

It was different now. The male who had helped her—who had saved her life—was probably only a short distance away. Knowing Burn was so close and yet had no idea of what was happening to her made it impossible to disconnect. Liana found herself fighting the need to cry out and call to him. She didn’t want to leave his world. She wanted to latch onto his back and have him sweep her away from this hideous trap that her life had become.

Fokrej had once told her that his favorite fantasy was wrapping someone in the web and leaving them in it, so that he could see how long it would take for insanity and death to set in. He thought, if the victim were regularly fed, it might take years.

You are begging? Already? Fokrej glided against her, rubbing himself against her oversensitized hide. But you have taken twice as much punishment before and not capitulated, Lady Liana. He lashed her again. I do not think you are ready to surrender yet.

Liana didn’t know what to do; before this he had always stopped. Being tethered as she was prevented her from fleeing. Fokrej was aroused—obscenely so—and it made her sick to realize that perhaps he couldn’t stop himself now. I am. I will obey her.

You will obey me, Fokrej corrected. When she repeated it, he shook his head. I still do not hear sincerity in your voice. You must do a better job of convincing me that you mean what you say. He came around to face her and raised one webbed fin, intending to slash her across the face with it.

Carada entered the tank and moved between the valet and Liana. When Fokrej began to whine, she used a fin to sweep him aside.

Only this. The ambassador swam closer, so they were eye to eye. One more rebellion will result in immediate and dire consequences for Ylyd. Life or death, Liana. If you wish the consequences to be life, you will do exactly as you are told, and nothing more, from this point forth.

“If I don’t speak to Administrator Hansen today, I will petition the council to have her removed from her position,” the Transport supervisor warned, the hundreds of thousands of spines covering his body bristling.

“I will make note of that, sir.” Emily added the threat to the lengthy message she had already recorded. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Emily closed the channel and added the message to the pending queue. When possible she had done what she could, but most of Ana’s callers wanted more specific information or actions than she could give them. As a result, there were almost three hundred requests, messages, and threats piled up and waiting for a response.

“If I ever think about applying for administrator training,” she said to the potted Jorenian windfern next to her console, “I’m depending on you to talk me out of it.”

Her console had been so busy that she hadn’t been able to accomplish much of her own work, and a stack of transfer datawork still waited to be input. As she closed down the office channels for the day and forwarded all calls to the emergency contact center, she resigned herself to eating yet another solitary meal at her desk. She was tired of prep-unit food, so she called a café at the Trading Center and placed an order to be delivered.

The door panel chime sounded. She released the lock and smiled as her new Omorr friend bounced in. “Hello, Hkyrim. What brings you to my side of the colony?”

“I have not seen you for six days, so I made some inquiries. I also intercepted your meal order downstairs.” He placed two food containers on her desk.

After Hkyrim had learned what Terrans ate, she’d never expected him to agree to dine with her again. “This is so nice of you.”

“I truly do hate eating by myself. This”—he checked the label—“chef’s salad sounds . . . interesting.” He gave her an uncertain look. “Is it made from real chefs?”

She grinned. “Afraid not. It’s synpro cut into matchstick shapes—none of which are or remotely resemble a chef—and sprinkled over chopped up botanicals. With the dirt washed off,” she tagged on quickly.

“I will admit a heartfelt sense of relief to hear that.” He tapped the second container. “I was rude enough to assume you wished some company and brought my meal as well. It is all dead this time.”

Sharing the meal was much easier this time. They didn’t concentrate on their different cuisines, but rather each other, and chatted about work and the new acquaintances they had made. Hkyrim spoke of finding friends among the hospital staff who did not mind his occupation, but still found little time to socialize. Emily confessed that she had been too busy working to put much time into friendship starting.

“I am hopeful that our chief pathologist will request more forensic technicians to supplement the staff,” the Omorr said. “We have had so many procedures to perform that he canceled all of our off-duty days until after the Peace Summit.”

Hkyrim nodded. “I had a protracted disagreement with the chief pathologist regarding the cause of death. Most were exposed to a rapid and extreme increase of atmospheric pressure, which was thought to have killed them. It is true that exposure to suddenly increased pressure can create equalization problems, but it is usually a sudden decrease of pressure that is fatal.”

“I know divers on my homeworld used to suffer from something called ‘the bends’ before re-breathers were invented,” Emily said. “But how does pressure change hurt someone on a ship? I thought the atmospheric equalizers would compensate.”

The Omorr briefly explained how tissues and blood cells respond to pressure, and the problems air cavities such as the lungs and ear canals present in equalizing. “Even with compensators, people sometimes black out at extreme pressure shifts. The higher the pressure, the more air becomes compressed and harder to breathe. Carbon dioxide levels in the blood rise as well, because exhalation becomes inefficient. But it is too-rapid decompression that causes undissolved blood gases to bubble and block blood vessels.”

“No. From the tissue biopsies I’ve performed, I would theorize instead that these males experienced exposure to a toxic substance. I found evidence of well-established gastric and glandular distress, and progressive systemic failure—all of which apparently occurred over a period of several days, not hours.” His gildrells bunched and released in what Emily had learned was an annoyed gesture. “My supervisor dismissed my findings and certified the deaths due to nonequalization of pressure.”

Absently she caught a round, gleaming cephalopod that his gesture had sent flying and politely returned it to the rim of his container. “What else could have killed them, Hkyrim?”

“It would have happened several days before they engaged the planetary patrol. There are several slow-acting substances that can be administered discreetly through air, food, or water sources. The symptoms come on gradually and resemble those of influenza or a bacterial infection: fainting spells, weakness, nausea, and anxiety. Lymph nodes swell and the gastric system responds with vomiting, cramps, and diarrhea.”

She shuddered. “But if they were all sick, wouldn’t they have noticed? Wouldn’t they have tried to signal for help?”

“Perhaps; perhaps not. These men are not welcomed on most civilized worlds. Also, the changes in the nervous system that poison causes sometimes induce paranoia and irrational thinking. Adrenaline may have accelerated or masked symptoms, depending on the individual’s level of stress.” He made a frustrated gesture. “I could prove this if the toxicology scans I’ve performed showed a noxious substance or compound, but each test result reads normal. Whatever was used to kill them left no trace behind.”

“That’s not true,” Emily said, surprising him. “You said there was evidence of problems with their gastric and . . . and some other system—”

“Exactly. If pressure can’t cause that kind of damage, then there’s half of your proof. The other thing would be the poison. You have to find it.”

“The most coveted poisons break down into ordinary components after the death of the victim. What killed these men appears to be in that category, as I can find no trace of toxins.”

“You said it was given to them in their air, water, or food, right?” He nodded. “Then you just have to check their ships for trace amounts in the air, water, and food systems, because those things don’t die.” Emily smiled at his wide-eyed look. “We’ve impounded the derelicts from the battle. I just sent the approved datawork over to Transport.”

“The ships are under quarantine, but medical people happen to be the only ones besides security who are permitted access. You’ll need authorization, though.” She turned to her terminal and punched a few keys before extracting a chip and handing it to him. “There you are. Administrative approval for one Omorr Hkyrim to perform a detailed inspection of the mercenary derelict spacecraft—and pieces thereof—for possible contaminants and pathogens.”

She nodded. “I can also transfer your living quarters, send your annual compensation to your mother, and give you permission to walk without wearing garments through common areas of the colony. You may need some suns screen for that last part. The UV index is pretty high during this part of the revolution to be going around naked.”

“Administrative assistants, Hkyrim, rule the worlds. We just don’t tell anyone that we do to preserve the illusion of order by elected government.” Emily tidied up their containers. “Now I must get some of this work finished. You’ll let me know what you find on those ships?”