Chapter 17
DHOMHES
There was a piece of the garden table in the first image they sent him.
It lay among the leaves beyond the place where Janae had landed. Dhomhes enlarged the image, saw the broken edge, and stopped looking at it before he began imagining distances he could do nothing to change.
The attack was over. Khalzin had fought the males back from Janae with his expandable club; Aster had stunned attackers and kept prisoners alive. Their own guards were securing the roof.
Dhomhes wasn't going to crowd the medical room with another male asking the same questions.
He sent for the reports instead.
Then he stood at the operations table with his jacket still warm where Sereya had held it, and tried to find somewhere on his own planet that would let these females sit down without being shot at.
“The roof is closed,” his lead said.
“It should have been safe while it was open.”
The male said nothing.
Dhomhes looked up. “I wasn't asking you to defend it. Keep anyone without work there away from the scene. We need what the attackers left.”
Another message arrived. The medical droid expected Janae's hearing to return; there was no permanent damage. Abrasions. Torn clothing. Injuries that could be called minor by anyone who hadn't been underneath the exploding table.
He passed the medical update to Sereya.
She answered almost immediately.
Thank you for telling me.
He kept that message on the small display beside the report for longer than he needed to.
The broker's reply arrived while he was reading. One of his cargo contacts had found an offer circulating through an exchange for hired weapons. The broker had forwarded the original listing, its images, and the instructions for claiming payment.
Dhomhes opened it. These were the volunteers in his care. The posting was still accepting claims.
He sent a copy to the security commander and told him to preserve the listing at its source. Then he looked at the price beside the first image.
Names. Images. Payment for killing people who had arrived here expecting a welcome.
His jaw tightened.
“Get me a secure connection to Khalzin.”
The hologram opened on two familiar faces. Khalzin stood with Janae tucked close beside him; Stron occupied the other projection, and Adryel moved into view at his shoulder.
“Dhomhes. Good timing.”
“I do have wickedly good instincts.”
Stron rolled his eyes. “Regarding what?”
“When I know, I share it.”
“You do not,” Stron replied.
It was the sort of exchange they might have had over a meal before any of this. Dhomhes welcomed the brief familiarity. Then Khalzin lifted a hand through the projection.
“You both have been reaching out to resources about this situation. What have you learned so far regarding the attacks against the Galactic Alliance visitors?”
“Attacks? Plural?” Stron asked.
“We were attacked here, in the garden on the roof,” Janae said.
“Are you okay?” Adryel asked.
Janae waved a hand. “I'm fine. But this is getting very intense. Something needs to be done to get this under control.”
“Agreed,” Dhomhes said. “Now, finding out who to trust, that is the trick.”
“Yes, I agree,” Khalzin said.
“A lot of Kantenans do not want them here,” Stron said.
Khalzin sighed. “Obviously.”
“No, you do not understand. Much of the populace is against this, Khalzin,” Stron said. “It isn't just one group or one sect. This is everywhere.”
“So will we be safe?” Janae asked, her eyes widening.
“As safe as we can keep you,” Stron said.
Dhomhes watched Adryel's face. She had come close enough to Stron that their shoulders nearly touched, though neither seemed conscious of it.
“I don't understand why it could be such a deeply spread hate. How is that even possible? It hasn't been nearly long enough for such hatred to work its way through our people. It's not like this program was broadcast and made a hugely public incident.”
Khalzin shook his head as he finished. Dhomhes wished he could spare him what came next.
“Look at this,” he said. “This is what I found.”
He sent the files. Both his friends reached for their displays.
Janae understood first.
“It's a hit list,” she said. “Someone has put out a call for Kantenans to kill all of us.” She glanced toward Khalzin. “No wonder the ship was bombed, and our lunch was attacked. Someone is trying to make sure we all die. It isn't just a scare tactic.”
Adryel was moving through the files.
“Stars,” she whispered, the connection barely carrying the word.
“It gets worse,” she said, sending a file back through the connection. “Look who is number one on the list.”
Janae's face appeared between them.
Dhomhes looked from the image to the living female. There was something obscene about the stillness of the portrait beside her, the price that reduced her to something a stranger could collect.
She gasped, then began turning the hologram. The sides distorted as it moved.
Khalzin's voice went hard enough to hurt.
“I will kill whoever made that hit list.” He looked at Janae. “I will make sure that you're safe. No matter what.”
She nodded, still studying the image.
“I don't understand.”
“What?” Adryel asked.
“This image, I just can't put my finger on it. There's something wrong with it,” Janae said.
“Do you think it was faked?” Adryel asked.
Janae shook her head. “I think it is real, but I cannot figure out what bugs me. Something's not right.”
“We need to focus on your safety right now. We can decode the hologram later,” Khalzin said. “What are our options?”
“Get you off the planet as fast as possible,” Stron said. “There's no other option.”
Dhomhes lifted his hand.
“I may have a better solution to that.”
His father answered while walking. Machinery thundered beyond the comm, familiar enough that Dhomhes could almost taste the warm metal in the air.
“How many?” Ruthak asked when he had heard the proposal.
“I'll send the passenger list. They'll need rooms, food, medical access, and somewhere that doesn't share a wall with a crusher.”
“You're asking for the luxurious accommodations.”
“I'd settle for the ones with working locks.”
“Those all work.”
“Then we're already improving.”
Ruthak stopped walking. The machinery grew quieter as a door closed behind him.
“How bad?”
Dhomhes gave him the answer without softening it. The roof. The list. The difficulty of securing the residence against people who knew it better than its frightened guests did.
His father listened to the end.
“Bring them.”
Dhomhes shut his eyes briefly.
“I need a couple of hours to arrange the transport and get everyone out quietly.”
“The rooms will be ready.”
“The search team stays where it is.”
“I didn't ask for them back.”
“Someone may decide this is an excellent reason to.”
Ruthak made a low, ugly sound. “Then they can explain that decision to me.”
“Send it through the commander as well.”
“I know how records work, son.”
“I like to hear you say it.”
His father grunted, but some of the anger went out of his face.
For a moment Dhomhes saw the male who had waited through his earliest attempts to read a processing diagram, refusing to supply the answer while Dhomhes became steadily more offensive about the quality of the diagram.
“Thank you,” he said.
Ruthak looked mildly offended.
“It's my work.”
“I know.”
The connection ended. Dhomhes stood looking at the blank display, then called for his lead.
There was a great deal to do before anyone could leave.
The transport available to them had hauled ore often enough to consider passengers an unreasonable demand. Its captain confirmed capacity and flight readiness with the weary patience of a male who had already explained that a hull could be sound without being beautiful.
Dhomhes sent guards to inspect it and arranged two escorts.
The remote platform would keep the loading away from the residence's public approaches. Ground transport could bring the volunteers in groups. The receiving staff would prepare rooms without circulating a passenger list through every office that might like to see one.
He gave the commander the transport arrangements. The residence inquiries would continue through the existing team; no one would abandon a lead because the passengers had moved.
“And Roemary?” his lead asked.
“Travels with the others. Her requests go through us.”
“Will she object?”
“Almost certainly.”
The male nodded as if this had been the most reliable information in the briefing.
Dhomhes made one more call before leaving the room.
Sereya answered with her hair loose over one shoulder. The sight interrupted him for a thoroughly inconvenient heartbeat.
“We're moving everyone,” he said. “To the refineries. The dark side.”
She searched his face.
“All right. What do I need?”
No argument. No demand that he promise nothing bad could happen. The trust in that simple question felt heavier than the transport.
“Your things. A warm layer, if they've given you one. Staff will help anyone who needs it.”
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders lowered a little.
“I'll be ready.”
“I'll come for you when your group is called.”
“You have everyone to look after.”
“I know where your room is.”
She smiled. He carried the sight with him through three more calls and an argument about an access road.
When he reached her door, she was ready with a small bag and a folded wrap over her arm. She had pinned her hair up again. One loose strand brushed her cheek.
His hand lifted toward it, then stopped. She had offered him her bag, and he was standing here with an ache in his fingers to touch her cheek. A whole afternoon with her. He felt starved for something as ordinary as that.
“What?” she asked.
“Your hair.”
She lifted a hand toward the pins.
“Nothing wrong with it,” he said. “I was looking.”
Her hand stopped. Then she lowered it, smiling in a way that made the corridor seem much too public.
“I noticed.”
He took her bag when she offered it. It weighed almost nothing.
Too many of their lives had been reduced to what the residence could give them after the platform. He looked at the little bag and thought of Graecey, who had come here to help them begin those lives.