Adaos sighed. “I can only surmise.” He motioned to the Purveli’s fingers. “They likely broke these as part of the torture intended to force either his or his brother’s cooperation.” Then he pointed to the wrist and metacarpals. “These injuries I believe he may have inadvertently inflicted himself while trying to escape restraints. There are more on his ankles.”
“Drekking Gathendiens,” Dagon growled. His appetite apparently vanishing as well, he leaned back in his chair. “I believe Ziv’ri can be trusted and may prove useful to us as we devise a strategy for defeating the Gathendiens and rescuing Ava and his brother.”
“Or,” Adaos said slowly, “he may be so desperate to save his brother that he would lead us like fattened braemon to the slaughter.”
Though she wanted to protest, she couldn’t deny the possibility.
Dagon crossed his arms over his chest. “He could have destroyed the thrusters and taken many lives.”
“Yes. He could have. Or he could have done exactly what he did instead to win our trust and throw us off if we caught him.”
“You wouldn’t be growing him a new organ if you believed that.”
Adaos sighed. “No. But the fact that I am doesn’t mean I lack doubts. I’m a healer. Repairing damaged bodies is what I do.”
Dagon looked at Eliana. “What do you think?”
Tilting her head to one side, she stared at the hologram and reviewed everything they’d learned since the Purveli boarded the ship. “I’m certain the hope I saw in his eyes when I threatened him was genuine.” After another moment’s contemplation, she issued a decisive nod. “Yes. I agree with Dagon. I think we can trust him. We should bring Ziv’ri into the loop. I can monitor his pulse and pupils and look for other tells that might indicate he’s deceiving us.”
“Commander Dagon.” Galen’s voice sounded faintly before Dagon could say yea or nay.
She glanced at him.
He tapped his earpiece. “Yes?”
“I’ve detected the presence of a ship. Its current trajectory indicates it is on an intercept course, heading toward us.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Eliana straightened. “Do you think it’s the Gathendiens?”
Dagon rose. “Yes. They must have fallen for our ruse.” He looked at Adaos. “Galen said a ship is headed our way.”
All three grabbed their trays and headed for the door.
Dagon stood at the head of a long oval table in a conference room he and his men had unofficially deemed the Ranasura’s war room. The table could easily seat twenty people and had been carved from the wood from a yexoa tree. White with black grain and burls, the gleaming surface included inlaid computer screens that stretched down the center of the table. All currently lit up, displaying diagrams and scrolling feeds in Segonian.
Above the table, a transparent, three-dimensional map of the stars hovered, displaying the Ranasura’s current position as well as that of the approaching Gathendien ship and a nearby solar system.
Beside him, Eliana studied the small system. “It reminds me of Earth’s except it has fewer planets with more moons and the elliptical orbits of the planets are vertical.”
Dagon didn’t realize until then that he had never examined her solar system and made a mental note to familiarize himself with it later.
Some of the displays—both in the table, above it, and gracing the walls—mirrored those at Janek’s, Galen’s, and Rahmik’s stations on the bridge. All three men now sat at the table, monitoring them from the war room so they would be on hand to answer any questions that might arise.
Barus was present, too, as were Maarev, Liden, Efren, Cobus, Joral, and Anat, all of whom Dagon considered trusted advisors.
Ziv’ri sat across from Janek. Adaos had found him some loose-fitting pants and a pair of boots, but the Purveli’s chest remained bare so the medic could keep an eye on his wound. Though Ziv’ri had swiftly accepted Dagon’s invitation to join them, he seemed to be on shaky ground. Just the simple task of walking here had left his breathing labored and his skin coated with a sheen of sweat.
“Something is wrong,” Ziv’ri murmured as he stared at the map. “They shouldn’t be coming yet.”
“We’ve been detonating the explosives at irregular intervals,” Dagon informed him, “to trick them into believing you’re still loose on the ship, doing their bidding.” He motioned to Galen. “And we’ve reduced our speed each time to simulate the loss of another thruster.”
“But you haven’t detonated all the explosives,” Ziv’ri countered, “have you?”
“No.”
“And you haven’t activated the beacon?”
“No.”
Ziv’ri shook his head with apparent perturbation. “The plan was to wait until everyone except the Earthling was either incapacitated or killed by the tengonis.”
Janek spoke up. “Perhaps they picked up the distress call we sent out and decided to change their plans.”
Barus nodded. “They would want to reach us before any allies do.”
Eliana frowned as she studied the Gathendien ship.
Dagon had seen many such ships in past battles. Half the size of the Ranasura, it was as ugly as the Gathendiens’ nature. Whereas the Ranasura was smooth and sleek, the Gathendien ship was clunky and disjointed, like something pieced together from discarded parts that were a sort of putrid yellow.
Clunky or not, however, a ship like that one had destroyed the Kandovar.
“Could they have grown impatient?” she asked.
“Doubtful,” Dagon said. “Most of the worlds the Gathendiens have conquered were procured through patience.”
“Right,” she muttered. “Their MO is to pick a planet, bioengineer a virus to kill off any humanoid life forms that might challenge them, release it, then sit back and wait until the species dies out, the lousy bastards.”
Precisely. They had released such a virus on the Lasarans, whose life spans could reach a thousand years. And they had released another virus on Earth thousands of years ago and had only recently checked to ensure it had succeeded. Neither action indicated a lack of forbearance.
“Whatever their reasons for opting to move up their schedule,” Dagon declared, “we need to prepare to meet them. Rahmik, would you bring up the schematics of a Gathendien S-27 battle cruiser?”
Rahmik tapped on the console the tabletop provided.
The map of the stars shifted to one side, allowing room for a translucent, three-dimensional representation of the Gathendien ship to appear. Segonian words hovered throughout the image, identifying key areas. Hangar bays. Air locks. Escape pods, of which there were far fewer than on Lasaran and Segonian ships. Lifts. Ladder wells. The bridge. The mess hall. A med bay. Several sizable labs.
Dagon looked at Ziv’ri and motioned to the hologram. “What can you tell us?”
The Purveli leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table’s shiny surface as he studied the schematic. “Can you render the text in Alliance Common?”
Efren typed and swiped.
Ziv’ri’s hands flattened on the table as he stared. “It’s a bit difficult to orient myself. I saw little of the ship until they shoved me into the Lasaran escape pod and ejected it,” he murmured.