“. . . and what did you do with the body of Hoc Rem?” Vice Director Silva asked.

The man did not look pleased. Brooks had expected as much, but the man had not chewed him out; only made clear his disappointment. Somehow, that stung more.

“We made an expedient purchase of the skiff and remote-docked it to the ship. No one was aware of the presence of Rem’s body, and we have since cleaned up all evidence.”

Silva nodded. “Good enough.” He paused, tilting his head. “I realize now my mistake – in stating that your personnel could not engage in combat, I did not include you. You exploited that fact.” Yet he did not sound upset; only a hint of amusement and shrewd reconsidering.

“It was a calculated risk,” Brooks admitted. “There were no witnesses on the station, other than the enemies. I do not believe they ever even saw me, and I took precautions.”

“Precautions that could have been seen through,” Silva said.

“Rem would have died without my intervention,” Brooks said. “That he did anyway was misfortune, but it was the best choice under the circumstances, and I stand by my decision.”

Silva scowled. “Even with him dead, this data that your Executive Commander retrieved is more than we could have hoped. It will take time to sift, but I suspect this will be a greater prize than even the man alive.”

“I hope so,” Brooks said. “If I may ask – what do you know of this group, the Silent Hand? Are they connected to the Esoteric Order?”

The man watched him impassively. “As it stands, Captain – we do not know.”

Silva went silent, clearly contemplating, and Brooks had to bite his tongue.

The man had not brought up Vermillion Dawn, and she had said that she’d been in contact with their intelligence . . .

How much did Silva know about her?

And if she had cooperated with the Union, why had she never contacted him before?

“You are unorthodox, but your work is sound. My congratulations to you, Captain. You do get results.”

“Thank you,” Brooks replied, but Silva had ended the communication already.

Brooks let out a breath, leaning back in his seat.

Holding up his hand, he looked to see if it was shaking.

There was only the slightest hint of a tremor. The result of adrenal letdown, hours after the fact.

It had been a long day, that had taken a toll on him. The search, then finding Dawn of all people . . .

After that the gunfight. No matter if he was a good shot and had been in shootouts before, known what to do and how best to do it – living or dying in such a situation was not skill. Just luck.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

His had held, but his mind wanted to replay over it again and again, reminding him that at each moment he could have been killed.

He had to fight that urge.

He focused his thoughts elsewhere.

He’d finally gotten the chance to talk to Kell, but the being had simply said little. After asking him about the Hev, Kell had only smiled. “Ask Urle,” he had said.

Brooks had also intended to tell him about the invite to the play, but after that . . .

At least he could count on Urle. Zach had informed him of his experiences, telling him too that Kell had admitted to consuming the Hev, but thought nothing of it.

Urle had also told him of the Silent Hand, the enemy he had not even seen – and that Kell had identified them not as that, but as the Esoteric Order.

“There was a mark on the wall,” Urle had said. “But my visual data of it is corrupted – I don’t know how, but it . . .”

“Something was wrong with it,” Brooks had ventured.

“Yes.”

“Like something tenkionic.”

“Just like that,” Urle had said grimly. “For all I can prove, though, Kell made it.”

“And they called him a Lesser Lord?” Brooks had asked, frowning.

“Kell certainly did not like being called that. He was ready to kill them all – and I think they would have let them.”

Brooks had pondered on it. “And the one you shot – are you sure he’d been dead?”

“Before he got up, at least. I guess I can’t rule out some crazy sensor spoofing, but . . . I saw his wounds. Yet he stood up . . .”

“Back from the dead,” Brooks said.

“Yeah,” Urle agreed. “Like Cassandra.”

There was little else to say after that. He’d dismissed Urle and gone over his report again.

He saw how Dawn had led Zach around to clues and gotten him to the station hub.

What had been her plan? he wondered.

Who were these people – the Silent Hand? If Silva truly did not know . . .

It was, though, quite possible he did know, but simply did not feel that Brooks required the information.

And what of Cassandra . . . ?

He had not brought her up to Silva. It was not related to his mission, and the last thing he wanted was the man demanding her for interrogation. This was his ship, and his people.

If it was her . . . then he was thankful. Even though she had died before he’d come to the Craton or met Iago, he’d read all about the history of his officers when he’d come on.

It was true that her body had never been recovered on the mining colony. She’d been born outside the SU and had gone back to visit family. The accident had just been due to a faulty piece within a liquid oxygen tank that had sparked and started a fire.

The entire dome had been destroyed, taking the life of everyone there.

Except, it seemed, for one.

He checked again on the drone that was following her. She was in the quarters with Iago and Elliot, and he could get no feed – he could not violate their privacy that way. But the drone itself noted that nothing was amiss.

Exhaustion had been creeping in around the edges for some time.

The rest of these problems would have to wait, he thought. Until tomorrow.

----------------------------------------

Apollonia looked at the screen. She’d been steeling herself up for this moment for hours now – after a sleep, and finally.

Finally, she felt it.

Her hands moved to the keyboard, and she began to type.

He That Squats on Yellow Sand died a hero.

Not just for his actions for the good of his ship – which he gave everything to protect – but to me personally. He saved my life when the time came, and did so selflessly, without hesitation.

Before that, he was my friend.

We knew each other only a brief time, but I have few friends and he was open and pleasant and liked to joke a lot. I never thought that a species so different from mine would be easier to talk to than my own kind, but he was simply that way, and however short a time it was, I was privileged to know him.

Please remember him as a credit to your people, to your family, to all of you.

I know that I will.

Sincerely,

Apollonia Nor

She finished the letter and re-read it, fixing a few typos and changing a couple words. But she resisted the urge to change it more substantially, hoping that perhaps the stream of consciousness that had created the words would impart her emotions better than anything carefully calculated.

When she felt satisfied, she selected the sender, using the routing address Jaya had given her, and pressed the send button.

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FINIS