Cynara shivered. “Remember what?”
“That I’d felt strange the day of the shaauri attack—a little off, somehow, like I was on meds, but I wasn’t. I asked if anyone else had noticed. They said I’d gone out suddenly for some reason, while we were tuning the drive, and didn’t say why. Crew also mentioned having experienced similar sensations after I returned—feelings of disorientation, as if their eyes weren’t quite seeing straight.
“That was when I couldn’t find my passcard. I usually keep it in my pocket, so I thought I’d left it in another ‘suit.
No go. It just disappeared. And I started remembering conversations I knew I didn’t have with any of my crew.
“Well, I knew something wasn’t right, so I ordered a thorough sweep of all stations in engineering. We came up with a few drops of perspiration on my console and asked Doc Zheng to take a look. She checked the mitochondrial DNA. It wasn’t mine or any of the crews.'”
Cynara knew what Charis was about to say. “Whose, Chief?”
“I’m sorry, Captain. Doc says it’s Ronan’s.”
* * *
Chapter 19
« ^ »
The meal in Miklos’s quarters was elaborate by ship-board standards, but Ronan hardly tasted the food his host’s servers delivered on silver platters from a private lift serving the distant kitchen. He ate just enough to avoid giving offense while Miklos lingered over his meat and wine with every evidence of pleasure.
After he was finished, he took Ronan on a tour of the prosperous and busy neighborhood at the foot of the Acropolis, where merchants of every kind kept shops catering to the aristocracy of Eos. Subtle as they were, Miklos’s guards doubled in number as soon as their master left the palace grounds, ranging just out of sight so as not to alarm the citizenry.
Miklos was clearly proud of his people and his city. He spoke of the freedoms the Concordat’s citizens enjoyed, the high standard of living, good health, and ambition of Persephoneans. The heart of Eos was beautiful by human standards, with the symmetrical, unbroken lines of the architecture, the bright stone and orderly progression of buildings. The blocks of greenery Miklos called “parks” were as flawless and contained as everything else.
Even so there was life—couples walking hand in hand in the open way of humans, children racing about the parks, passers-by offering respectful and affectionate greetings to Miklos when they recognized him. Eos was not ruled by tyrants, and signs of human violence were absent.
Yet Miklos brought his warriors with him wherever he traveled, and these ve’laik’i were not merely for sh’ei—honor—but protected their lord from dishonorable assault.
“You see why we wish to retain what we have fought to build since the Reunion and founding of the Concordat,” Miklos said as they began the walk back to the Acropolis. “Humanity crawled out from the dark and rebuilt all we had lost. Now we’re on the verge of new discoveries, new possibilities beyond the regions we know. That’s why the blockade must end. Without the possibility of growth and freedom, humans wither and die.”
His passionate speech left no room for argument. It sickened Ronan, for it illustrated the very nature that Kalevi, Rauthi, Aarys, and their allies feared in the enemy. Humans recognized no limits; they saw only new opportunities to swallow up whatever they discovered, to expand without restraint and impose their own inverted order on the universe.
“Ronan?”
He came back to himself and found Miklos regarding him quizzically. “Aino’Kei.”
“I hope you’ve found our tour of some interest, but it’s nearly the hour I promised to take you to meet another member of my family.”
The angle of the sun told Ronan that the day already approached its end, and he had achieved nothing of worth. But he had obviously won Miklos’s trust, and there might be opportunities tonight, before the questioning, to explore further. One of Miklos’s servants could have a weakness in his mental shield. One vulnerable mind, in a human free to move about the palace, was all he required.
“May I know the name of this one I am to attend?” he asked with a show of courteous interest.