35

Sean and Dillon were summoned back to the militia captain’s office. Logan was seated behind the desk, flanked by his two officers and Sidra. When they entered, he asked, “Have you seen action?”

“We have. Yes.” Dillon’s response was so fast, Sean had to assume he had been expecting the question.

“I don’t mean some mock exercise with other cadets, in the safety of a schoolyard.”

“The answer is the same,” Dillon said.

Sean said, “Dillon is the soldier. Not me.”

Dillon shook his head. “Sean was as involved as anybody in the assault. Maybe more.”

Logan seemed pleased by the exchange. “Assault?”

“A planet called Lothia,” Dillon said. “We took part in defeating the aliens’ last attack.”

Vance asked, “Aliens?”

“Later,” Logan said.

Sean told his brother, “I did what I needed to do. You fought. There’s a difference and you know it.”

“Everybody with brains is scared going in,” Vance said.

“You did great when it was all on the line,” Dillon said. “You saved the day.”

Sean told Logan, “I’ll do whatever you say. But I’m a diplomat by training and temperament.”

Dillon snorted. “You’re selling yourself short.”

Logan had clearly heard enough. “Say we agree with your plan to hunt inside the Havoc fief. What do you need to make this happen?”

What Sean needed was solitude and a bit of peace and quiet. Which he was not going to get. Logan insisted that Sean use a pallet laid out by the side wall. His glare challenged the twins to complain about the audience.

Sean stretched out and shut his eyes. He heard Dillon pull over a chair and position it by the pallet. His brother gripped Sean’s left shoulder. Anchoring him to the here and now. Saying more clearly than words ever could that they were a team.

Sean closed his eyes, took a long breath, released it slowly. He pushed everything into his gut, down to the point where the power to transit resided. He fashioned an energy bubble and compacted everything inside—his thoughts and emotions and fears and life. Then he just . . .

Went.

Sean drew up from his physical form and hovered there in the empty space above the six people gathered in the office—Logan, Dillon, Vance, Nicolette, Sidra, and himself. He saw how Dillon’s eyes were clenched tight, like he was trying to consume Sean’s confusion and fatigue, and replace them with his own strength. Then Vance spoke softly, and Nicolette shushed him. Sean caught the whiff of emotional tension between them, an old flavor, not good but healing.

He turned away from the people and the room. He directed his attention to the target.

And he flew.

At the end of the Havoc tunnel, Sean passed through three huge chambers. The first contained the vanished market guards and several hundred merchants, all allies of Clan Havoc who had fled Logan’s arrival. The housing looked temporary and cramped. Sean passed over people lined up for a soup kitchen–style meal. They did not seem very concerned for a group that had recently been kicked out of their homes, which confirmed what Sean had suspected. The battle was far from over.

The second cavern held a military barracks and parade ground and training area. A large number of soldiers were prepping for the attack on Hawk territory. Sean searched the troops but could sense no strangeness, no secret weapon.

In that instant he caught the first faint whiff of danger.

He could not identify the source. He could not even tell if the peril was directed at him. The presence carried a faint hint of venom, very old, very angry.

Sean waited a long moment, wondering if he should turn back. But the danger did not strengthen. In fact, it seemed to withdraw. Sean’s impression was of an evil lighthouse sweeping across some vast distance, passing on.

He pressed on.

Clan Havoc’s third cavern was by far the largest Sean had ever seen and contained a fortified empire. Groves of trees ringed a fair-sized town, and beyond that was a castle, with guard towers and banners and courtyards and a massive outer gate. From the cavern’s other side stretched a vast array of tunnels that Sean knew led to mines and Tiko’s smelting operations.

Inside the palace’s main hall, Sean found his prey. Three senior Diplomats. In Duke Tiko’s audience hall.

They were led by his enemy. Kaviti.

Just as Sean identified his nemesis, the distant peril swiveled back in his direction. He was certain it did not originate from Clan Havoc. But that did not lessen the sense of threat.

This time, the peril shifted away, only to return and fasten upon him. Sean felt like he was suddenly bathed in a superheated lava flow. The volcanic fury was off-world, he was certain of that. The peril shrieked like a thousand band saws. Totally inhuman. Readying for an assault.

Sean zipped back. Gasped. He bolted to his feet, only to fall back to the pallet. He heaved a terrible breath.

Dillon said, “Tell me.”

“They’re coming.”

Logan demanded, “How many?”

“Hard to tell. A lot of them.”

Dillon asked, “Did you see the weapon?”

“No. But it’s there.”

“How do you know?” This from Vance.

Sean looked at his brother. “I saw three senior Diplomats.”

Logan asked, “Ghost-walkers from your group? Working with Havoc?”

“Ambassador Kaviti is one of them,” Sean said.

His brother actually smiled. “For real?”

“He’s leading the crew.”

Dillon laughed out loud. “Bro, you just made my day.”