Ru frowned. “You suggested earlier it wouldn’t be safe for us to wander around here.”
“If you present yourselves like people who have good reason to seek refuge from the law, and respect what few rules we have here—which basically come down to ‘don’t steal from or murder any locals’—you should be safe enough. But if people get the impression that you’re here to observe them, maybe even report on them to authorities, then you won’t leave this station alive. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
She nodded. “I appreciate your bluntness.”
“And I’d appreciate hearing what you learn. Since, as it turns out, I do have a vested interest in the outcome.”
“Fair enough.”
He rose stiffly from the chair. “I’m going to pack up my possessions. What few I have left. You’ll let me know when a response to my message gets here?”
“Of course.”
Minutes later he was gone. An uncomfortable silence followed. The skimmer hadn’t been designed for privacy, and anything they talked about, however quietly, might be overheard.
Micah reached out to the keyboard and started typing. His words appeared in red on the screen.
YOU ARE ONE OF THE BEST LIARS I HAVE EVER KNOWN.
She chuckled softly, reached over to the keyboard, and typed, IF HE SUSPECTED THE MADNESS MIGHT HAVE COME FROM HYDRA, HE MIGHT TRY TO PROTECT ITS CREATOR. THESE PEOPLE SOUND LIKE THEY ARE PRETTY TIGHT.
BUT A THREAT TO THE SCAVS WOULD BE A DIRECT THREAT TO HIM, Micah typed. HENCE HIS VESTED INTEREST IN HELPING US IDENTIFY IT.
EXACTLY.
She leaned back in her chair. “So. Do you think you can pass for an outlaw?”
“Are you asking me if I know how to role-play? Seriously?” He grinned. “I think maybe I can figure it out.”
* * *
(The image of a Saurin male on the screen:)
“Ivar! This is a surprise! We were told you died in the Shenshido raid. I’m happy to hear that wasn’t true, and I’m sure the Patronus will be also. Three of your men who made it back have told many tales of your exploits . . . and of your death. Never mind. You’re here now. (Leans back in chair, arms folded across his chest.) A lot has changed in the past two years, but nothing you can’t catch up on. Be careful around your crew, though. They thought you were dead and gone, and probably divvied up your stuff long ago. A few may have mixed feelings about your return. As for the people who brought you back here, of course they’ll be honored guests. The fare’s a bit pricey, but I don’t imagine you had many options. I’ll make sure it’s covered.” (Reaches down below the frame.) “Am appending a file with instructions for your approach, as well as an emergency channel to use if you run into trouble when you arrive. We’ll talk more when we can do it realtime, yes?”
END TRANSMISSION
OUTERNET FORECAST
Processing is slow today in Harmony Node, due to a high-pressure system impacting all tourist-related industries. Expect delays in transportation, reservations, entertainment, banking, and food services to continue through the week, as preparations for the upcoming Harvester Festival place pressure upon those systems.
Guildmaster Dresden has announced that Harmony Station will prioritize outgoing traffic beginning on the 24th. This will facilitate realtime broadcasts of Harvest events, but reduce channels available for incoming data. Those planning to visit during the Festival are advised to send any information pertaining to their itinerary in advance, and to confirm its safe arrival no later than the 23rd. Standard operating protocols will be restored at midnight on the 26th.
HARMONY NODE
HYDRA COLLECTIVE
SAITO’S RECEPTION ship hadn’t changed—it was still a saucer-shaped vehicle connected to the rest of Hydra by flyways—but there were six mooring stations now, spaced out evenly along the rim. If six vessels docked at the same time, the ship would look like a giant starfish.
Heading toward the reception lounge, where Dominic had said they could talk, Ivar felt strangely disoriented. The interior of the ship looked familiar to him—little had changed in two years—yet it felt so alien. He’d been trapped too long in the sterile labs and false forests of Shenshido; the world which had once been as much a part of him as his own skin now seemed strangely off-kilter.
The central lounge was mostly unchanged. There was still a lot of cushy seating, a well-stocked bar, and a collection of unique contraband displayed in locked cases along one wall. He recognized a sacred chalice he’d given to the Patronus of the clan some years back, stolen from a religious outpost. Supposedly anyone who touched it without the proper prayers of reverence would be struck dead on the spot. He remembered how the Patronus had poured wine into it, laughing, and then passed it around for everyone to take a sip. “Now we are all blessed.”
That chalice had transformed Ivar from a dime-a-dozen freelance thief to a person of significance, and clinched his status as an ally of Saito. All the good things that came to him after had flowed forth from that moment. He never did offer the clan his formal allegiance—it went against the grain to compromise his independence like that—but Saito backed his forays often enough that he might as well have. He was all but family.
Or that’s what he had been, two years ago. Who knew what he was now?
Dominic was waiting for him, and rose as he entered the lounge. The fine scales on his face glittered as he broke into a broad smile. “Ivar!” He strode forward and offered him a hand clasp, which became a forearm clasp, which became a hearty embrace. “Son of the devil! I never thought you would come back to us.”
“That makes two of us.”
He stepped back, holding him by the shoulders, and looked him over, top to bottom. “A bit worse for wear, it looks like.”
Ivar shrugged. “It’s been a rough couple of years.”
“Nothing a drink wouldn’t address, eh? Your usual?”
“Please.”
As Dominic headed over to the bar he kept talking. “Your own people reported you dead, you know.”
“They survived?”
“Three of them limped home. With one battered singler between them, that barely made the trip. Few people came out of that fight unscathed. On the rocks, right?”
“Yes, please.”
There was the sound of liquid splashing into a glass. “They told us your ship crashed into the docking ring at full speed and broke up into a thousand pieces. No one could possibly have survived that, they said. Etcetera, etcetera.” He walked back to Ivar with two glasses and handed him one; the scent of fine whiskey with a hint of added spice stung his nostrils pleasantly. “Meridan whiskey. Made with a grain so rare it’s forbidden to export the stuff.”