“If the Gathendiens took your friend,” he cautioned her, “they could have rigged it with pressure sensitive devices that could—”
Shaking off his hold, she motioned to the ball. “Did that silver-ball thing pick up any signs of explosives?”
He consulted the tablet. “No. But it can only scan surfaces for residue.”
“I don’t care. I’ll risk it.” In the next breath, she raced forward three steps, then leaped up, sailing high over Maarev—who jumped up but failed to catch her—and landed on the edge of the hatch, leaving all of them gaping up at her.
Dagon swore as she ducked inside. Tossing the ziyil and tablet to Cobus, he jumped on the hoverboard Maarev had abandoned, snatched the controller out of his hand, and flew up to the pod’s hatch.
Pocketing the controller, he readied his rifle, quietly stepped off the hoverboard to crouch in the hatch’s entrance, and peered inside.
It was a tight space, fairly typical of Lasaran single-occupant escape pods. There was enough headroom to prevent a Lasaran or Segonian male from having to duck once inside. But the only furniture it boasted was a harness-equipped seat that could recline enough for the occupant to use as a narrow bed.
With her back to him, Eliana walked around the seat but didn’t have room to do much more than that. A miniscule lav that he knew from experience offered no elbowroom occupied a narrow nook. The rest of the interior was taken up by the artificial gravity and atmospheric generators, nutrition-bar and vitamin-liquid dispensers, and everything else that made the pod perform the functions it did.
Dagon scanned every surface but discerned no threat.
Eliana drew in a long breath and held it.
And he could almost see her cataloging every scent and combing through them to find her friend’s. “Eliana.”
She jumped. Spinning around, she held up a hand. “Don’t come in yet,” she said, a request more than an order.
He nodded.
Kneeling, she picked up the colorful discarded shirt, brought the soft fabric to her nose, and again inhaled deeply. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Cucumbers,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “It’s Ava’s.”
“Ava is one of your friends from Earth?” he asked softly.
Her throat moved in a hard swallow as she nodded. Clutching the shirt to her chest, she looked around. “Her go bag is missing.”
He slipped inside, though his bulk made the tiny pod feel even more cramped. “What’s a go bag?”
When a tear spilled down her cheek, Eliana impatiently wiped it away and blinked the rest back. “It’s like a bug-out bag or a rucksack full of survival essentials along with some personal items she wouldn’t have wanted to leave behind like photos or small keepsakes.” She shook her head as a bitter laugh escaped her. “We didn’t think the women would actually need them. But we wanted them to be prepared for anything.”
She picked up what looked like a lightweight coat that had also been discarded and brought it to her nose. More moisture welled in her eyes. “Ava always wore cucumber-scented deodorant.”
Every tear that raced down her cheek tore Dagon up inside. Needing to comfort her, he rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I see no signs of a struggle, no blood spilled. It’s possible she has not been harmed.”
“Then where is she? Why hasn’t she contacted the Lasarans?” Eliana shook her head. “If anyone who was a friend of the Aldebarian Alliance had found her, we would know it by now.”
“Whoever found her may be unknown to the Alliance,” he pointed out. “This sector remains largely unexplored, Eliana. Galen located a solar system nearby that has a planet with an atmosphere that is hospitable to Earthlings and Segonians. It’s possible that a sentient society similar to ours inhabits it and has rescued her.”
“If someone rescued her, why didn’t they take the pod with them?”
“If they’re new to space travel, it might have simply been too large to fit inside their craft. Or if they are more advanced, a freighter could have found her on its way home and might not have had room for it if its cargo bay was already full of supplies.”
“Or maybe the Gathendiens took her, or some of those space pirates you mentioned.”
He sighed. “Those are possibilities as well, yes.” He wouldn’t lie to her to generate false hope. “But past encounters with both lead me to believe that neither of those parties would have left the pod behind. Even if they had to tow it behind them with an acquisition beam, which is not ideal when traveling long distances and can be hazardous when entering a planet’s atmosphere, they would have held on to it for study or—in the case of pirates—to sell or salvage for parts and tech.”
Rising, she released a despondent sigh. “You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”
He curled an arm around her and drew her close. “I’m trying to help you understand that more than one explanation is possible out here, particularly in a sector we know little about. Yes, we believe the Gathendiens are searching for survivors, but they may not be the only ones exploring nearby solar systems.”
Leaning into him, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “What if there’s someone out here who is even worse than the Gathendiens?”
He arched an imperious brow. “Then—to use one of your Earth phrases—we will find them, rescue Ava, and kick their asses.”
Her hand clenched in the soft fabric of Ava’s shirt as she issued an abrupt nod. “Hell yes, we will.”
Dagon watched Eliana weave her utensil through the vestuna heaped on her plate. She had carried very little of it to her mouth, concern for her friend Ava having banished her voracious appetite.
He wished there were something he could say to bring a smile back to her face. Wished he could promise her they would find her friend unharmed. Wished he could guarantee her that they would find her friend, whatever her condition, but too many variables denied him that.
Galen had set a swift course for K-54973, the nearest planet with a breathable atmosphere. He had found it on a star map the Sectas had created while constructing the qhov’rums, but neither he nor Rahmik could find any other information about it in the Alliance database.
Janek constantly searched and listened for comm signals. The fact that he had come across none seemed only to darken Eliana’s mood. But no signal didn’t necessarily mean no civilizations. If a sentient species did inhabit one of the nearby planets and they had encountered Gathendiens in the past, they might not welcome contact with other alien races.
A single survivor floating, helpless, in an escape pod?
Possibly.
A Segonian battleship?
Doubtful.
Engineering was running diagnostics on the pod and searching its database for clues that might reveal what had happened but had barely gotten started, in part because they had to tread carefully lest they trigger what Eliana called booby traps. Dagon still thought it would be uncharacteristic of the Gathendiens to have left an escape pod behind if they took Ava. But they were dishonorable grunarks, their behavior growing increasingly erratic, so he couldn’t omit the possibility.
Reaching across the table, he clasped Eliana’s free hand.