The inside of the escape pod was very large for a child of six, and he felt very small indeed. But he had to get away, for Agent Teklys and for his parents. He could get help and come back for them.
Pushing his way through the hatch, he settled into the webbing, strapped in, and studied the ranks of lights and controls overhead. It was easy to operate an escape pod; all he had to do was remember the sequence of operations. The pod did the rest.
He followed instructions and watched the lights change color from green to standby yellow. The hatch locked. There were several loud clicks as the pod disengaged from its berth, and then the sensation of motion, tumbling, weightlessness. The boy gripped the webbing and shut his eyes very tight.
I did what you told me, Agent Teklys. I got away. Mama, Papa, I’m coming back to get you.
He knew they couldn’t hear him. Someday he might be strong enough to push his thoughts across a big distance, but not yet. “Be patient,” Mama had told him. “You have the gift. Ambros doesn’t, and neither does little Damon. That’s why we’ve brought you, so that you can learn.”
All he had learned was that there were bad shaauri, not like the ones who had adopted Papa. They had taken the ship. They were different from people, but not so different that he hadn’t been able to feel one shaaurin’s thoughts and know that it wanted to hate him for being human.
Just as he ought to hate it for what it had done. But he was suddenly very tired, and couldn’t seem to think of much at all. He let himself drift and imagined the distress signal going out to all the Concordat ships on the border. Pressure increased as the pod’s small engine propelled it on a course for the nearest wormhole to human space. He knew that the stasis field was about to put him into a deep sleep until someone found him.
He woke to the sound of something striking the hull of the pod. The display on the pod’s small screen flashed a message: Retrieval imminent. Prepare for docking. The words were very big, but he knew they meant that someone had found him.
The clock said that it hadn’t been very long. The Aphrodite had been deep into shaauri space; he didn’t think there would be many other Concordat ships so close. He waited tensely while the pod was drawn into the ship’s docking bay and the lights turned green again. Gravity sucked him down into the webbing.
He punched the hatch release. Strangely scented air rushed into the pod, but it was a minute before he recognized the smell.
It was exactly the same as that of the shaaurin who had tried to capture him.
Too late he tried to close the hatch. A sleek-furred hand reached in and caught at his harness, deftly undoing the clasps. There was no hope of struggle. He was grasped and carried and passed from one set of hands to another until he was set on his feet on an alien deck.
* * *
PART I
Pegasus
* * *
Chapter 1
« ^ »
The shaauri striker was closing in, and Ronan knew that it was a matter of minutes before it either overtook his darter or blew him out of space.
He checked the flashing displays on his console, rows of shaauri numbers crowding the screen, and did a rapid calculation. Darter-class ships weren’t meant to maintain this velocity for extended periods; they were like their namesakes, small, fierce predators efficient in a short pursuit but rapidly exhausted by a long chase.
And he was the prey, not the hunter. He’d counted on the darter to get him to the nearest wormhole. But the shaauri had intercepted him halfway there. Three times they’d demanded his surrender, and three times he’d managed to nurse one more burst of speed from his beleaguered ship.
No more. The engines had been pushed beyond their limits. His destination was still days away, the shaauri warship far closer.
If they caught him, it would all have been for nothing: the years of pretending, the careful observation, the waiting for just the right moment. He would be a prisoner again, and he wouldn’t get a second chance.