“Moreau wasn’t worried about you having a guard? Or your science officer?”
“Not really.” He grinned again. “Tiang has a brilliant mind. He’s not expendable.”
“What does he do with his brilliant mind?” Alisa hadn’t gotten much out of Leonidas when she had asked how he knew the doctor. He’d simply said he had been briefly involved in the military’s cybernetics research division.
“Whatever he wants. He’s published groundbreaking articles in thirteen different fields.” Tomich waved toward the walkway as the last of his troops filtered in. “Nice ladder.”
“The ship you drove away caught us in a grab beam and spewed drones, tanks, and androids in our direction.”
“Its commander wanted the key, I presume?”
“You seem to know more about that now than the last time we met,” Alisa said.
“I’ve been briefed.” He looked down at her. “I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, watching the soldiers stalking about, waving their weapons.
Tomich bumped her arm with the back of his hand. “If I give you a hug, will your bodyguard punt me across the room?”
Alisa looked up at Leonidas, but his faceplate was turned toward the soldiers, his hand resting on his rifle as he watched them.
“Probably not,” Alisa said, “as long as you keep your pistol in your holster while you do it.”
His grin was more of a leer this time. “That’s a hard thing to do when talking to a pretty girl.”
She swatted his arm, aware of Leonidas’s faceplate turning toward them.
“You say things like that, and I’ll tell Commander Kristia that your eyes are roaming,” Alisa said.
“Alas, Commander Kristia and I are no more. I’ve got my eye on Admiral Fukusaku now.”
“You don’t have another admiral out here, do you?”
“No, she’s back on Arkadius.”
“How old is she?”
“Sixty, but she’s very fit for her age.” Tomich winked at her.
A throat cleared in the airlock tube. The two other officers had come forward, the white-haired one with medical insignia on his collar frowning slightly as he regarded Alisa and Tomich. Admiral Tiang, she presumed. He had dark, sharp almond-shaped eyes, and Alisa fought the urge to squirm. She almost saluted before remembering that she was a civilian now. The science officer wore captain’s rank pins and appeared to be about fifty, a dark-skinned woman with wiry black hair shorn close to her head, and a perky yellow and orange earstar hooked over her helix. It was displaying a compact holodisplay in front of her eyes, data scrolling, and she only looked at Alisa briefly before returning focus to the display. Perhaps she was receiving updates about the energy anomaly that Yumi had noticed.
“Admiral,” Tomich said, “this is Captain Marchenko. She was one of our fighter pilots during the war.”
“Yes.” Tiang’s gaze passed over her with indifference before scanning the rest of the cargo hold and settling on Leonidas.
Leonidas lifted his hands to his helmet and unfastened it. A few of the soldiers who had been keeping an eye on him fingered their weapons uneasily, but nobody pointed one at him.
When Leonidas’s helmet came off, the admiral nodded to himself, as if he expected nothing less. Tomich’s mouth opened, surprise flickering in his eyes. Alisa was surprised too. She had assumed Leonidas would remain fully armored in the presence of the Alliance soldiers.
“Dr. Tiang,” Leonidas said.
“Colonel Adler. I heard you were over here. It is good to see you.”
Leonidas inclined his head. “I should like to speak with you if you can make time this evening, sir.”
What was this? Leonidas hadn’t mentioned pulling aside admirals for private chats.
“I—if there’s time, certainly.” Despite his cordial greeting, Tiang appeared slightly uncomfortable under Leonidas’s gaze. It was far from one of his worst gazes. Leonidas almost appeared affable, which Alisa found strange. Shouldn’t he be irked that such a high-ranking imperial officer had gone over to the other side?
“Good.” Leonidas inclined his head once.
“Something smells tasty, Alisa,” Tomich said. “Is that the dinner you promised?”
“Yes, follow me.”
Alisa led the officers to the ladder, lamenting the awkward way that they had to get to the upper portion of the ship. Mica was toiling away in engineering, making more permanent solutions for those patches. Alas, stairs weren’t high on the repairs priority list.
Alisa? Abelardus spoke into her mind as she led the procession up the ladder.
She almost missed a rung and fell. What?
I can’t read the admiral’s thoughts.
Alisa wished Abelardus had that problem when it came to her. Is that highly unusual, or does it happen sometimes?
It happens sometimes, but I also can’t read the commander’s thoughts. I believe they may have taken some drug to inhibit me. There are a few things like that out there.
Yes, Alisa remembered Yumi saying that she had something in her cabin that would befuddle telepathic Starseers.
You get anything from the rest of them? The soldiers? Alisa climbed onto the walkway and waited for her guests to join her.
Nothing duplicitous, Abelardus said. They believe they’re here to guard their officers during this dinner.
It could be that Tomich and Tiang didn’t want you to be able to learn about the anomaly and what the Alliance has been researching out here.
Once again, Alisa wished she hadn’t warned Tomich that she had a Starseer onboard. If she hadn’t, they wouldn’t have thought to take precautions, and Abelardus would now have free rein to surf through their thoughts and discover all manner of secret information. As much as she hated it when he was in her head, she had to admit that it was useful to have an ally with such powers.
Of course it is, he said smugly. As to the rest, I suspect you’re right, but you may want to watch them carefully, see if your simple intuition might be useful in detecting treachery.
My simple intuition and I will do so.
Tomich brushed his hands off after he climbed onto the walkway and came to stand next to her. “Your ship took a lot of damage, didn’t it?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said we need time for repairs,” Alisa said.
“I’ll do my best to see that you get it.” Tomich glanced at his admiral and stepped away from her.
Leonidas jumped up to join them without using the ladder. The damaged walkway shivered as he landed on it. A few of the soldiers below started, fingering their weapons. Alisa waved for the officers to follow her, not wanting to test how much weight the damaged walkway could withstand, not until Mica had time to look at it.
More than a dozen of the soldiers scrambled up the ladder after their officers. A few took Leonidas’s route, eschewing the wobbly rope and using the extra power from their combat armor to jump the twelve feet. The looks they gave him seemed to hold a challenge, as if they were pointing out that they, too, could do inhuman feats, at least while in their armor.
“Evening, Captain,” Beck said, saluting her with tongs when she walked into the mess hall. He wore his apron, but a sheathed dagger and a blazer pistol hung from his belt underneath it.
As her guests filed in, Alisa did her best not to cringe at the mismatched and dented cups and plates set at the table. They were clean but that was the highest accolade she could give them. As with everything else on the Nomad, upgrades were needed. She imagined the admiral being accustomed to lavish dinners on flagships, both imperial and Alliance, with dedicated mess soldiers scurrying about, keeping crystal wineglasses full.
Yumi must have been recruited for this service because she walked about the table, filling the cups with tea. Alisa almost wished she had suggested that Yumi put something more potent into people’s beverages, something that might make tongues flap freely and put people at ease. She hoped the officers wouldn’t
invite any of the soldiers to dine with them. There were only ten plates, those representing the extent of the Nomad’s tableware collection. She also was not sure how the benches would stand up under the weight of armored butts.
Four jars of some kind of liquid—sauce?—with homemade labels sat in the center of the table amid platters of food. Two were a normal-looking reddish color. One was green, and one was blue. Alisa could already imagine the admiral regarding the blue with skepticism. Hopefully, Tomich was not thinking of poisonings.
“Come on in, everyone,” Beck said, waving his tongs in invitation, appearing as casual as always, though Alisa had come to know him well enough to recognize nervousness in the pinch of his brows. He licked his lips and glanced at her when the admiral walked in. “Sit anywhere,” he offered. “We’ve got Arkadian sausage, Senekda short ribs, beans, and slaw. Pan-grilled cornbread with jakloff butter and honey too.”
As far as Alisa had noticed, Beck cooked everything on the grill if he could. The Nomad had an oven, and it usually worked with minimal fiddling and prodding, but he did not feel a dish was complete unless it claimed some char marks.
“What is this, Marchenko?” Tomich asked, picking up a cup. “Tea? It’s a good thing I brought the sake.”
“It is,” she agreed. “I haven’t had an opportunity to shop for alcoholic provisions yet.” She decided not to mention that the modest fares that her three passengers paid her did not go a long way toward outfitting a ship with luxuries. Or basics. That was probably apparent from the dented plates.
The admiral sat at one end of the table and sniffed at the substance in his cup. Tomich smiled easily, though he also seemed to scrutinize everything around him, and he nodded for several of the soldiers to stand in the corridor that led toward crew cabins and navigation. Alisa watched, trying not to feel fenced in. Several of the soldiers leaned against the walls, appearing more bored than alert. She decided to take that as a sign that they were probably not planning anything inimical.
Yumi finished pouring cups and sat at the far end of the table from the admiral. Mica arrived, elbowing soldiers aside to get inside. From the way her gaze devoured the plates on the table, hunger had likely prompted this appearance rather than a desire to be sociable. Alejandro wasn’t around and did not join them. Alisa thought about calling for him—maybe he would appreciate talking shop with another doctor—but she could understand why a loyal former imperial citizen might not want to fraternize with Alliance officers. Especially when one of those officers had switched sides.
“Let me do a few introductions,” Alisa said, waiting for everyone to be seated before she picked a spot next to Mica. Leonidas stood near a counter, his helmet back on, a rifle resting in his arms. He might wish to chat with Tiang, but apparently, he wouldn’t let his guard down to do it while they ate. “This is Yumi Moon, my science-loving passenger,” she said, waving at Yumi. “This is my engineer, Mica Coppervein. That’s another passenger, Abelardus Shepherd.” He had chosen a spot in the middle of the table, his fingers intertwined in front of him. “Our cook for the night is my security officer, Tommy Beck. And you’ve met Leo—Colonel Adler.”
Normally, she wouldn’t break his cover, but Tiang had already addressed him by his real name.
Alisa settled into the empty spot between Mica and Abelardus and across from Tomich. Aside from the dubious blue liquid, Beck had done a wonderful job preparing a meal, especially given the short notice. She only hoped that the admiral would appreciate the food and that his and Tomich’s questions would not be too invasive. She was secretly glad that Alejandro wasn’t around, because she would like to explain everything to the Alliance officers, in the hope that it might filter upward, and any black marks on her record could be removed. All she wanted was to find Jelena, not become an outlaw.
“I’m Commander Brad Tomich,” Tomich said, nodding to the various people Alisa had introduced, except for Leonidas, “and this is Admiral Tiang, and that’s Captain Onobanjo, one of our science officers.”
The captain’s holodisplay still scrolled before her eyes, but she gave them all a cordial nod.
“Are you going to tell us about that energy surge?” Yumi asked brightly, sitting across from the science officer.
Abelardus started shoveling beans and slaw onto his plate. Leonidas settled in behind Alisa with his back to the counter, where he could see both doorways and keep an eye on the soldiers. In addition to those that had positioned themselves around the room, in similar guard stances to his, several more were visible out on the walkway, along with the handful in the corridor that led to NavCom. The rest had stayed down in the cargo hold—at least Alisa hoped they were down there and not wandering around engineering.
Mica left a no-trespassing sign on the door to engineering, Abelardus informed her.
And they’re obeying it?
For now.
“I believe the answer to that question is classified,” Onobanjo told Yumi, folding her hands on the table and eyeing the coils of sausage on a platter.
“Another hour, and it won’t matter,” Tomich said.
“If this ship is still here then,” Tiang said, his eyes narrowing.
“Yes, my superiors aren’t quite sure why we didn’t drive you away, Alisa,” Tomich said, “but I’ve been wondering how you got mixed up in all of this. I wouldn’t have guessed you to have an interest in Starseer artifacts.” He glanced at Abelardus.
“It’s a long story.” A story that Alisa was prepared to launch into, but apparently, her words led Beck to believe that she wouldn’t do so, because he stepped up to the end of the table and spoke.
“Friends, old and new,” he said, “I thank you for joining us for dinner. I’ve already informed you as to what you’ll be eating, and I particularly recommend the spicy arangwa pepper slaw, but I also invite you to try all of the sauces you see before you.” He smiled at the admiral. “I left the meats only lightly seasoned so you can appreciate the various flavor profiles.”
Flavor profiles? Alisa plastered her hand to her face. What kind of chef-speak was that? And why was he doing it now?
“This one is a simple barbecue sauce sweetened with apple cider,” Beck went on, pointing to the first jar. “It’s a perennial favorite. For more of a kick, the next one is my infamous beer and molasses sauce. Highly recommended.”
Tomich and the admiral exchanged perplexed looks. Alisa tried to catch Beck’s eye and make a cutting motion, but he only had eyes for his sauces—and for the admiral. For some reason, he was giving Tiang a lot of attention.
“My third offering is an extra spicy sauce, also flavored with the aromatic and excellent arangwa pepper. Lastly, we have one of my favorites, blueberry balsamic sauce. You’ll find it extremely tasty on the ribs, and some people like it on the cornbread, though the cornbread is delicious all by itself.”
“Thank you, Beck,” Alisa said, hoping to stop him from going into further details. She could understand his pride in his cooking, but they had headier matters to discuss.
“You’re welcome. All of the sauces are available for purchase,” he went on, “and I also have samples available. Ah, Admiral?”
“Yes?” Tiang asked cautiously.
“I’m sure you’re a man of influence and power back home.”
“He’s a man of influence right at this table,” Tomich said, while giving Alisa a what-is-your-chef-doing look.
She shrugged back at him. Explaining Beck’s passions and dreams for the future, not to mention his fear of having the mafia catch up with him before he could achieve them, was too much to bring up now.
“Of course,” Beck said. “But back home, I imagine he goes to fancy dinners with government officials and other important military officers, people who might enjoy samples of excellent sauces from the far reaches of space.”
“Think those flavor profiles are getting a boost from the radiation leaking out of space nearby?” Tomich asked, smirking.
Yumi’s eyebrows rose. “We’r
e not able to read radiation on these sensors, not very effectively. Is the source of it the same as the source of the energy I’ve been reading?”
Alisa gave her a silent thank-you for getting the conversation back on topic. Beck looked like he might try to finagle another chance to sell his condiments to the admiral. Alisa caught his eye and made a sit-down motion. Deflated, he removed his apron and slid in at the end of the table. The seats near the admiral had been taken, fortunately. Tiang might go to official military functions, but he did not look like the kind of man who went to a lot of social gatherings—or bought souvenir barbecue sauces.
“If you could read the radiation levels, you wouldn’t have dared come this close,” Captain Onobanjo said, her voice still distracted. She leaned close to the admiral and whispered something.
Alisa looked at Abelardus, hating to depend on him but wondering if he had any insight to what they had said. Normally, she would look to Leonidas for deciphering whispers, but that would be more obvious—and he couldn’t speak the answer into her mind.
No, I’m handy. Abelardus smiled at her. Her thoughts are clearer. She’s been studying the phenomenon, along with the admiral and several Alliance experts in—oh, that’s interesting. He tilted his head, gazing at Onobanjo. I wondered if it might be something like that, but I don’t have the science background to know what’s possible and what isn’t.
What?
He kept gazing at Onobanjo, apparently reading her mind like a scintillating book.
Alisa elbowed him.
“Colonel,” Admiral Tiang said, spooning beans and sausage onto his plate. “Won’t you join us for this meal?”
“I’m on duty, sir,” Leonidas said.
“Duty? The empire is no more, as I’m certain you’ve noticed.” Tiang let out a wistful sigh. “As I regret. I had little choice but to switch my allegiances if I was to continue my research.”
Alisa watched him, trying to use her simple intuition, as Abelardus had called it. He had struck her as a reserved man, someone difficult to read, so that sigh seemed strangely emotive. Of course, she had only spent ten minutes in his company. It was early to make assumptions about him.