Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

until it was done. When I opened them again, the ship on the view screen was a lot bigger—and a hell of a lot easier to see.

“Dawn,” Tens murmured. “Case had us in the planet’s shadow.”

And I realized our ship was drifting with a planet at its back, and that we might not be drifting at all; we might be sinking. I pushed the idea away, and turned my attention to Skymander’s approaching war ship. It was both easier and harder to look at with the sunlight refracting from its hull.

Also easier to see was the myriad swarm of much smaller shadows holding station around it.

“That can’t be good,” Tens said, but Mack remained silent.

When I shot a glance in his direction, he was sitting perfectly still, staring at the ship on the screens before us. Just before I looked away, he glanced down at his console, his fingers moving over its surface in response.

“Not long, now,” he murmured, and then raised his voice, just a little, “Tens, what did you find on Delight?”

“I don’t think she made it off Magnus,” and my own console lit up, as he pushed the data to where I could see it.

Oh. To use his words, that couldn’t be good.

Delight hadn’t made it off world. Not according to Odyssey, and not according to the Magnus 19 passenger manifests Tens had hacked out of their transport databases. As far as we could tell, she’d hit Blaedergil’s mansion, with Pritchard, and neither of them had ever come out again.

“Maybe Skymander had his people collect them,” I said, and didn’t like the thin thread of doubt that wound itself through my tones.

“That would be the best scenario,” Mack said. “I’ll add them to the list of things I want from Skymander.”

Tens was not happy.

“It will give him something else to bargain with.”

Mack shrugged.

“We need to get her back.”

He didn’t say why, and I had to wonder if it was because he was used to dealing with her when he dealt with Odyssey, and just didn’t want to get used to dealing with someone else, or if it was because he was secretly fond of her, kindred spirits and all that.

“I miss Pritchard,” he said, answering the questions rolling through my mind.

Yeah. Like fuck he did. Pritchard was the invisible man.

“Hence why I like him.”

“So, it’s got nothing to do with the fact he keeps Delight in check?” Tens wanted to know, but whatever Mack might have said in reply was lost as the ship signaled an incoming call.

He glanced over at Tens.

“Put it up,” he said. “Let’s take a look at this joker.”

I have to admit that Treivani’s face was the last thing I expected to see, when the call went live.

She was holding two carefully swaddled bundles, and I wondered why. She still looked as pale as she had when I last saw her at Blaedergil’s, but there was now a faint tinge of color to her skin, and the shadows under her eyes were fading. She was sitting on a long, low-backed couch, wearing a loose, blood-red gown that flowed around her. Behind her the stars formed a backdrop through a meters-wide observation port.

I saw Mack glance at Tens, and watched as the comms-tech’s hands flew over his console as he tried to find where on the battle ship Treivani was located. Personally, I didn’t trust what I was seeing. For all we knew, that backdrop was just another projection, and she was secreted deep in the hull of the cruiser heading towards us.

On the view screen, Treivani smiled when she saw us, and I could only guess that we, too, were up on a wall-length screen in whatever space she was seated. Beyond the babies in her arms, she appeared to be completely alone, but I doubted that was the case.

“Thank you for trying to rescue me,” she said, “but I don’t need it.”

She gestured for someone off-screen, beckoning them to come into the shot, and cooed down at the babies in her arms. The man who stepped over to sit beside her was who we’d expected to see from the start. Odyssey had at least come through with the files, even if the company wasn’t anywhere in sight, now that we needed them.

“Sandoval,” Mack said, as he watched the small drama being played out for our benefit.

Sandoval’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he sat on the low arm of the lounge, draping his arm across Treivani’s shoulders. She looked up at him, adoration plain upon her face.

“Mackenzie Star,” he replied. “It is good to finally meet you.”

Mack didn’t return the compliment, but sat, his silence demanding more. Sandoval waited, but didn’t take long to work out that Mack was waiting for him to explain.

“I suppose you are wondering why you’re still in one piece,” he said, his smile slowly fading.

“You could say that.”

“And I suppose you’re wondering how we caught up to you so quickly after your pilot’s most impressive piece of flying.”

“It would be handy.”

Sandoval’s smile had completely left his features, and the expression that had replaced it was more what we’d been expecting to see, in the first place: cold, hard calculation, with just a hint of threat.

“And?” he asked, challenging Mack to elaborate.

“What do you intend?”

“That is the heart of it, isn’t it?” Sandoval replied, and, if he was disappointed by Mack’s directness, he didn’t show it. “You tried to take what is mine by mutual agreement.”

And Treivani leant her head back against him, looking supremely content.

Mack shrugged.

“It is what we were hired to do.” He nodded towards me. “Her life is forfeit if we do not bring Treivani back.”

Sandoval assessed me with a careful gaze.

“She doesn’t seem important enough for you to lead with her safety.”

And now I was riveted. Sandoval had a point. Why hadn’t Mack just stuck with the excuse of a mission? Mack gave me a look that told me nothing more.

“Let’s just say that she’s part of a bigger contract, and I’d like