KINSMAN’S OATH By Susan Krinard

Ronan could find no response. Whatever VelShaan’s motives, there was genuine kindness in her, and sympathy that did not extend to offensive pity. She treated him almost as an equal.

Yet when she spoke of peace, could she truly mean it? Was it not simply a lie among other lies to cover rapacious human plans for conquest?

“All your life you’ve been punished for being human,” VelShaan said. “That has ended. You will be yourself, Ronan, and valued for all your qualities, human and shaauri.” She turned to Miklos. “Have you scheduled a time for the debriefing, Lord Miklos? I’ll want to be sure that my seniors are available and prepared.”

“If Ronan is agreeable, I’d thought tomorrow morning. I’d like to spend the rest of the day showing him something of Persephone.”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Excellent.” Miklos rose. “Until tomorrow, Mes Carter VelShaan.” He nodded and walked toward the door. Ronan hesitated.

“Why?” he asked VelShaan. “Why did you and your people choose to remain among humans?”

“Because we’re human, and we saw a chance to serve. Because we saw what hatred and misunderstanding could do to two intelligent species. Because people like us are needed if there is ever to be peace again. Tan uri-kah, Ronan.”

“Tan uri-kah.” He caught up with Miklos and the guards followed at his heels.

“It’s nearly time for the noon meal,” Miklos said. “Please join me in my quarters—our chefs here are excellent and can cater to your particular preferences on very short notice. Afterwards there is one other person who would like to meet you. I think you’ll find it worth your while.”

“Captain,” Charis’s voice said over the intercom, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need you in engineering immediately.”

Cynara woke from her light doze and glanced at the clock. It was the middle of second watch, not yet time for her next shift. She’d slept a little more than an hour.

Since the Pegasus had left Persephone at dawn that morning, Cynara had thrown herself into her duties, making up for the fallow time on Persephone and Adumbe’s long watch. She’d relieved him on the bridge and taken the ship out of orbit, setting course for the wormhole that would propel them to the edge of Concordat space and into shaauri territory.

Most of the crew, sensing her mood, hadn’t troubled her with questions. Adumbe was glad enough to get away to his own quarters, and Cynara adjusted the watch schedule to permit a longer break for those who had stood at their posts for an extended period.

Working kept her thoughts away from Ronan and their last night together. She was almost convinced that Ronan would be all right, that Miklos’s advocacy would counteract Janek’s hostility, and that she would be able to return to Persephone as captain of the Pegasus.

Almost.

She would gladly have continued on the bridge all day and through the following night, but Adumbe returned after the eight-hour watch and admonished her to take a brief rest. Miya Zheng seconded the suggestion.

She hadn’t known why they insisted until she saw her face in the mirror. Her eyes were dark hollows surrounded by pale, drawn skin, haunted and hectic at the same time. She looked as though the blow of a child would knock her over. She felt almost as bad.

Once she slept, she had plunged into nightmares that grew mercifully dim when she received Charis’s call. She threw her legs over the side of the bunk and punched the ‘com. “I’ll be right down, Chief.”

She hadn’t changed her shipsuit since boarding the Pegasus, so she undressed quickly, put on a clean one, and took the lift down to engineering. The marine on duty admitted her through the heavy doors. Charis was waiting inside.

‘Thank you for coming, Captain,” she said, rocking nervously on the balls of her feet. “I have a report… one I wish I didn’t have to make. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, but I had to be sure my suspicions were correct.”

Charis had never seemed so grim. “What is it, Chief?”

The engineer held up her hand. On her palm rested a standard data slide. “I found this in one of my consoles a few hours before we left Persephone. I didn’t think much of it at first, but I never leave slides out when I’m not using them. I asked the other crew, and none of them had done it either. Still nothing so terrible, but then…” She ducked her head. “I checked the log, and found that someone had viewed several pages of the schematics file. Then I started to remember.”

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