Part I

"Sun! I demand you come out at once!" Tristis's hoarse voice found her in the shadows where she hid.

Despite the precognitive urge to obey the officer, L'Tan sank further into the dark corner of the abandoned bay. Her teeth chattered. A shiver moved over her body. But she remained quiet, trying her best to ignore the freezing cold of the room. This physical discomfort was far more preferable than the beating Lairn Tristis had in mind for her.

Holding her breath, she listened intently, and tried to judge his position by his sounds. It had been a mistake to seek refuge in this lesser-used portion of the base, she realized with dawning regret. There were more dead ends and fewer witnesses, not that anyone would stop Scorpius' dreaded security operative from harming her.

"I will have no choice but to inform your master of your insubordination, then, little half-breed rat…" Tristis trailed off, taunting.

She did not take the bait. It was an empty threat. L'Tan knew instinctively that Scorpius would not knowingly sanction these deadly games of hunter and prey, what Tristis teasingly called her "discipline". For whatever cruelties had been visited upon her, Scorpius would not see L'Tan harmed in such an arbitrary way.

When she did not respond, there was a frustrated bellow and the hollow thud of a fist on metal. She startled, despite her attempt at self-control. Tristis' fierce temper was legendary. With each moment she evaded him, her punishment could only grow worse.

"You lie!" She seethed, unable to control her angry outburst. A grim, burning hatred pooled at her center. L'Tan had learned much of life well beyond her ten cycles of existence. One of them was an utter hatred for Tristis. "You only do this when he is away…"

There was a bark of laughter. "Little rat, you've much to learn. He has charged me with your discipline. And this is part of it."

"Frell you!" L'Tan spat.

"Ah… see? You've use for me yet." He chuckled evilly. "Discipline, little rat. You must learn discipline!"

The metal walls bounced the echo of his voice and footfalls around the room. It was nearly impossible to gauge where he was.

"I grow tired of this, child. Do not make this worse for yourself."

Was he closer now?

In the dimness, it was so hard to tell. Feeling her way along the wall at her back, she tried to make as little noise as possible. Even the slither of the fabric of her jacket against the metal seemed too loud.

"He should have terminated you long ago," Tristis continued. "You only grow more troublesome with each passing solar day."

There was a clatter followed by his enraged yelp. The officer was drunk, or well on his way there, she noted with growing dismay. That always made it worse.

L'Tan tried to glimpse her bearings in the darkened room. She needed to make her way back to the main corridor and out into the rest of the base. There she could be lost to him amongst the maze of connecting hallways and faceless personnel.

But where was he? Was he between her and the door?

No. No, he was to her right. Out of the way for the moment.

It was now or never. Licking her lips, she drew in a deep breath and then sprang for the door, her coltish legs pumping with the surge of adrenaline.

Suddenly he descended on her like a great cat, pouncing from the darkness.

"There's my little rat!"

His hands snagged the collar of her jacket. She was immediately dashed to the toothed grating of the deck. His thick-soled boot collided solidly with her ribs in an explosion of white-hot pain.

She fought the urge to cry out, anything to sour this victory.

"Crichton!"

Eleanor Sun Crichton snapped awake. Her surprised gasp echoed flatly against the close metal walls of the marauder's navigation alcove. "What!"

"Get up." Vedit Corsair stood over her chair, roughly shaking her shoulder.

Blearily she looked up at him, the dream receding like a tide. Her anger and embarrassment at being caught off guard quickly took its place.

"I told you. Never touch me!" She hissed, pulling her rumpled jacket smooth as she sat up.

Vedit frowned and drew breath as if to speak but stopped. By now, he seemed used to her outright disregard for his former rank. The arrogance was gone for the moment, replaced by a resigned desperation.

She was struck once again by his incredible resemblance to Delvar, his son. Quickly, she looked away, an ugly guilt tugging at her. How could a son be so different from his father? Vedit was so completely self-absorbed and intolerable, how could his son have possessed such an open-minded soul?

Since Vedit had pulled her from the heavily damaged remains of her prowler nearly two weekens ago, they had settled on a distrustful truce. However, her anger with him always loomed near the surface. For once he had taken her from the Jocosta, had set the prowler adrift, ignorant of the ship's importance. As a result, they clashed frequently, arguing at each opportunity.

He even possessed the nerve to proposition her once. He conveniently forgot her questionable status as a hybrid, seeking her out in the cramped confines of the alcove she used as a bunk. He quickly learned his lesson, retreating with a bloodied nose and bruised ego.

"I require your… assistance." Vedit glowered, stepping away.

As Ellie stood, her stomach did a slow sickening roll. A sudden wave of vertigo moved over her, and she leaned against the nearby bulkhead. A shiver shook her spine.

"Why is it so frelling cold in here?" she demanded, looking at the bleak walls as though they might offer an answer.

"The environmental regulators are working at optimal. If only the same could be said for the rest of this marauder." Vedit muttered impatiently.

"You're not ill, are you?" he asked. His eyes narrowed on her as he took a hesitant step back. "Who knows what sickness you may have contracted from the creatures on that leviathan of yours? That's all I need is to contract some alien-"

"Your concern for my health is noted." Ellie clipped sarcastically, but avoided his eyes. Until now, she had been able to hide her growing illness. Her position was precarious enough. It would not do to give Vedit Corsair further ammunition against her.

She pushed roughly past him and rounded the corner to the ops console. "What have you done to this horrid little boat now, Vedit?"

"I have done nothing." He intoned, peering over her shoulder at the console in question. "There is an… unfamiliar reading in the sensors that you restored."

"Unfamiliar." She mocked, arching an eyebrow. "Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

The nightmare-riddled sleep had left her more exhausted than rested. Ellie fell, more than sat, in the ops station chair. Her knees felt like liquid. A dull throbbing had begun behind her eyes.

As she stared at the sensor's display, her misery quickly became a distant worry.

"It's a distress signal," she whispered, her hands moving over the controls with perfunctory ease.

"Peacekeeper?" Vedit questioned. He leaned in front of her, all but blocking the view.

Impatiently, she elbowed him out of the way. "It's an automated distress signal. It is not Peacekeeper in origin. I don't recognize it."

A triumphant smile slowly spread over her pale face, as she took in the readings on the hailing vessel.

No detectible bio forms.

But plenty of operational systems. Plenty.

#

Scorpius stalked the length of the cavernous chamber, fully aware of the nervousness he evoked in the technicians nearby. Now, more than ever, he was a fearful sight for them to behold. Normally this would not do. He preferred the power of the subtle to control his subordinates. The suggestion of a threat rather than the actual act could be far more coaxing.

However, his situation had changed drastically ever since the incident at Denor. The Sano, the carrier under his command, was nearly gutted by a wormhole triggered by an experimental prowler of unknown origin. This was, of course, not before his own first officer, Vedit Corsair, had staged a briefly successful mutiny, convincing certain members of High Command that Scorpius was unfit as captain.

High command had taken away Scorpius's billet, bidding him to return to the Sebacean core systems for a formal inquiry. Nevertheless, he still retained a certain amount of influence and the ensuing confusion on the disabled carrier granted him leverage. For whatever members of High Command that sought to rid themselves of the Scarran hybrid monstrosity, there were just as many that he kept in his palm. As a result, he remained, for the moment, free. And he was certain to make the most of this time.

"So. This is the face of a pilot that crippled a carrier." Lieutenant Lairn Tristis smirked, studying the vid screen's image. He turned to his new superior. "I think I shall like this mission."

Tristis had swiftly accepted the position as Scorpius's special operative. Rumors abounded that he was eager to place as much distance between himself and the core systems as possible. The young man had been hand picked by Sela Tyron, one of the few Peacekeepers Scorpius felt he controlled implicitly. Her judgment had proven excellent in this case.

Tristis was ambitious, but lacked the cunning to be disloyal. He had been conscripted from a trade colony, and thus held no significant attachments to members of High Command. He possessed a dark soul, preferring to work in the shadows of Peacekeeper intelligence. And as his personnel report held, he had a rather vivid interest and skill in the painful extraction of information from captives.

Yes, Tristis would do nicely.

"You may leave." Scorpius said, dismissing the small huddle of technicians in the room. Their relief was almost comical as they quit their tasks and hurried for the door.

He moved into place beside Tristis at the console. The image on the viewer was one that Scorpius had burned into his memory. It was the cockpit of the mysterious silver-skinned prowler. The image layers had been peeled back to reveal the young woman that was its pilot.

Scorpius had not been surprised when he saw her for the first time. However, it added an intriguing twist to this puzzle. She was the same woman Crichton had brought to the Trelgin on Denor to be rescued from Xiocine poisoning. The poison was rare, a means of honorable suicide known exclusively to the highest-ranking officers of the Peacekeeper regime. How she came to obtain it was a mystery. She bore all the trappings of a Peacekeeper of special standing, but there was not an iota of information about her.

Here was a puzzle, indeed. One that he would savor solving.

"Tristis, I cannot impress upon you enough how important it is that you locate this pilot and this vessel. You must let nothing stop you," Scorpius turned his gaze to Tristis.

"Forgive my asking, sir, but why not a commando squad? Why me? Certainly, First Command-"

"Because, Lieutenant, the capture of this prey is an art. Something that should not be fouled by the graceless plodding of bureaucracy. First Command has placed me in a … challenging situation."

"Yes, sir. I understand." Tristis paused. He licked his lips and looked back at the woman's image. It was evident he had more on his mind than command politics.

"You may speak freely, Tristis."

The lieutenant's eyes were shiny dark marbles, not doubt studying some dark fantasy landscape. "I want to know… that is… do you require her in any special… condition?"

Scorpius allowed a brief smile. "I do not care what you do with her, so long as she remains alive. With her… you may do as you wish."

Scorpius keyed a new command. The view on the screen shifted to a blurred image of the prowler's hull. The layer surrendered to a crude fuzzy outline of a spherical object surrounded by wires and conduits.

"It has been determined that the Prowler craft has a modified propulsions system… extremely unique. This is your true target, Tristis. All other priorities are rescinded."

Tristis nodded, but somehow he felt the officer's attention still dwelled on other hellish scenarios.

"The trajectory and end point for the wormhole that the prowler triggered have been extrapolated," Scorpius continued. "That is where you shall begin your search. Provided you survive the procedure…"

"Procedure, sir?" At this, Tristis' attention was renewed.

Scorpius signaled the detachment that had been waiting in the corridor beyond the room. They entered in a proficient bound of gleaming helmets and creaking leather to surround Tristis.

He swallowed audibly and turned back to his new superior. "Sir? I don't understand."

"A procedure, Tristis, perfected by the Nebari. Of course, I have no idea what it may to do Sebacean physiology. Should you survive, I will be certain of your success."

#

Cautiously Ellie paned the portable light over the darkened corridor of the abandoned vessel. Only dancing motes of dust moved under the steady beam of light. The air was breathable, possessing a metallic stale taste. Environmentals were evidently not the reason the ship's crew had deserted.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Just as she expected from the marauder's sensors readings.

Only… something did not feel right.

Another wave of vertigo hit her with a sudden fury. Ellie stumbled forward, dropping the light from her trembling hands. The pain intensified at the base of her skull and she tasted blood at the back of her throat.

"Watch what you are doing." Vedit hissed as he stepped over her sprawled form. He shot a nervous glance around the darkened corridor, and did not move to help her.

"I'm uninjured, Vedit," she seethed, full of sarcasm. "Thank you for your concern."

She regained her footing and crossed the portal to find her way along the passage, torch gouging a lighted path. Although she had no idea where she was headed, she made her steps certain, firm. The vessel was of a completely alien design.

To his credit, Vedit would not have known this ship's distress signal from any other errant white noise on the sensors. It was luck that Ellie recognized a pattern and shuffled it through the marauder's battered brain for analysis. But this was a fact that she cared to not share with the arrogant officer.

Her light settled on a low set panel of instruments. An empty chair was bolted to the floor before it.

"There," she said, making her way to her discovery.

"There.. what?" Vedit demanded, keeping doggedly at her elbow. "How do you even expect to find anything we can salvage here?"

She ignored his complaint, a common practice of late. Instead she slipped into the chair and turned to face the spanning arch of the panel. Seeming to sense her presence, a row of ambient lights fluttered to life.

"This will be much easier than I thought," she muttered, pleased. From her cursory examination, a great deal of the ship's systems were powered down or dormant. The trick would be finding what they could use for the marauder.

She smirked with a new thought. This ship, if she could understand it, may suffice better than the marauder. At this, Ellie nearly forgot her initial apprehension.

Her hand hovered over the console, uncertain. "Eenie. Meenie. Miney. Moe."

She hit a row of toggles, widely spaced, no doubt meant for pilots of a much larger stature. It appeared to be secondary functions. The lights of the corridor immediately snapped on. She felt the tiniest breath of new air on her skin as the scrubbers hissed back to life.

Hovering over her shoulder, Vedit released an audible sigh of relief.

"I know what I'm doing," she lied. "Relax, Vedit."

A new visual display popped into view. It appeared to be a holographic projection of the ship itself. It spun in a tight arch, strange hieroglyphs depicting sections of the outer hull. Within the structure were several steadily moving dots. She frowned at the pattern they formed. The dots formed a tight group, moving en masse into an area that appeared to be her present location.

A prickling realization came over her.

Ellie stood and whirled, nearly colliding with Vedit. "We've got to get back to the marauder!"

He frowned at her, and looked at the projection. "I don't-"

"Just move your ass!" She shoved him back toward the corridor. "It's a trap, Corsair! This ship is bait!"

Ellie began an all out sprint down the corridor, Vedit close at her heels. At the intersection, she reached a dead stop and he plowed into her back.

Blocking the doorway stood a mangy pack of half a dozen of men, a mix of Sebaceans and Zenetians. They were no more the crew of this abandoned vessel than they were. She knew their employ instinctively.

Pirates. Slavers. Thieves.

"Welcome." The one who made up the center of the group granted her a dangerous grin. He was a tall, muscular Sebacean, head shaved over thick features with the brutally cunning eyes of infantry. He was clad in the motley remains of a Peacekeeper commando's fatigues.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vedit demanded, stepping in front of her. It was not meant as a protective act on her behalf. It was a show of superiority. Vedit Corsair could not stop being an officer any more than Ellie could stop being a hybrid.

"Guess." The leader returned snidely.

A stockier one leaned in, his arms folded around a pulse rifle. As he spoke, his eyes moved over Ellie. "Don't know 'bout him, Asher. But the girl… she may be worth our while."

"Take 'em both." Asher ordered. His eyes remained on Ellie when he spoke. "I'll make up my mind later."

Ellie felt a flicker of rage and quickly squashed it. It would not do to lose control. She spared a glance at Vedit. His face was without affect. A textbook Peacekeeper façade.

The pack of men advanced as Asher remained in the doorway.

The stout one was the first to reach her. She was prepared. Quickly she stepped aside, dodging the swing of his arm. She doubled back on him, managing a sharp kick into his exposed back. The mercenary landed in a painful heap at her feet.

Unable to turn on her other attackers fast enough, she felt powerful arms encircle her from behind. A sharp electric pain pierced the back of her neck. And Ellie Crichton knew only blackness.

#

"You have odd colored eyes for a Sebacean," said Commander Rabban.

It was not meant to be an innocent observation. L'Tan knew better than to respond. Instead, she tucked her chin in further to her chest. Her back remained rigid. She did not look up into the Peacekeeper's face.

"What do they call you, pet?"

She remained quiet as she nervously chewed the pad of her thumb. There was a painful swat delivered by Tristis to the back of her head. He glared down at her, jerking her hand away from her mouth.

"Answer the Commander, little rat."

"L'Tan. My name is L'Tan, sir."

She waited for whatever unknown dread that would come next, heart thudding in her narrow chest. Longingly, she thought of the sanctity of her chamber and the stacks of conduits and components that she was allowed to operate on. The meter of their words rolled past; by now she was used to being referred to as though she were not present.

"Interesting…" Rabban continued, as though discovering a new species of insect. "You say its father was Human?"

Rabban leaned to her level. His hand moved beneath her chin and she allowed him to lift her head. The dark brown eyes moved over her face appraisingly. But she kept her own eyes focused on the imagined middle distance between them.

"The eye coloring is significant of a recessive trait… mainly a human contribution." Scorpius explained, patiently, hovering at the officer's elbow.

"Quite striking." The gray-haired man licked his lips. "She doesn't appear to be wearing a control device. A non-reg attendant?"

"She is not an attendant, as I have said." Scorpius returned, sharply. "I claimed her by my rights as s'duhar."

The older man coughed, hiding an amused laugh. "That's an ancient custom, Scorpius, only practiced by the Great Houses. Even so, it is more figurative than anything. More has to do with currency these days--"

"She was what I chose of value from my enemy." He dismissed Rabban with his back and turned to regard the swirl of the infant galaxy through the observation glass beyond.

Rabban turned to her master. "You would not consider… selling this creature, would you, Scorpius?"

"My apologies, Commander. I could not part with this prize. Beyond her appearance, there is nothing more remarkable about her. She is significant only to me," Scorpius explained. His voice lowered conspiratorially. "There are other attendants here, Rabban… young ones."

Rabban's face reddened slightly. He cleared his throat. "No. I meant that only as a curiosity."

"Of course."

The officer moved away, tugging indignantly at this tunic. L'Tan allowed her spine to relax. She sought out Scorpius in the vault-like confines of the chamber. His narrow head bobbed, subtly. It was a cue meant for Tristis.

Ignorant of Tristis moving into place behind him, the old man continued to yammer in his self-important voice: "I wish to discuss the spheroid, Scorpius. Has your research discovered a means to harnessing its power? You have had ample time to work with it."

"I have reported my findings as I see fit, Rabban."

Another step. Tristis, shiv in hand, was Rabban's shadow.

"Findings?" Rabban huffed. "Four reports in the past six cycles is hardly sufficient, Scorpius."

"The Ciax technology is as complicated as it is delicate--"

"Will it create wormholes?"

A somber pause, pensive. "Yes."

"I see… That is why I have decided to remove the artifact from your Gammak base. It is simply too great a risk to leave to chance-"

Tristis sprang at the commander, locking his arms around the older man's shoulders. The shiv plunged downward. Rabban gave out a gurgling moan, whirling. L'Tan danced away from the tangled men. A warm spray of blood peppered her face.

She watched, wide-eyed, as the commander crashed to his knees, eyes pinned on her. His mouth moved to form unvoiced words. Then he fell forward. Dead.

She looked up at Tristis. He wore an eager grin, almost ecstatic as he stared down, panting, at the slain commander.

"Well done, Tristis. Dispose of the body and rid the main data stores of his presence here," ordered Scorpius as he stepped across the body.

He placed a gloved hand on the crown of her shorn dark hair. His black lips split into a cold smile. "You see, young Sun? Learn from Tristis. He will teach you all you need to know… by example."

Numb, she obediently nodded. L'Tan turned her attention to the dead man on the floor and the reflection of her own pale face in the rapidly spreading pool of dark blood.

#

Lingering and invasive, the rough hands moved over her body.

"I wouldn't do that, Spivey. Asher said--"

"Frell Asher. He's not here."

Her eyes snapped open and she was greeted by Spivey's toothless menacing grin. Ellie writhed away from his touch. Panic set in as she found her wrists were bound overhead. Her hands were numb, the circulation cut off by the tight bonds.

"Who says Asher always gets the pretty meat?" he crooned lecherously.

His thick fingers brushed over her face, her lips. Suddenly, she bit down on his hand. The taste of his blood was copper on her tongue.

Spivey squealed, jumping away. "Tralk frelling bit me!"

He glared at her before disappearing behind her back. His booted foot struck her side. There was an ensuing ripple of bawdy laughter from the room's dim corners.

She peered into the darkness, trying to assess how many of her captors there were. Her vision was limited by the harsh overhead lights. They remained only huddles of shapes. From their sounds, she estimated there were six at the most.

"Spivey! Knock it off! I said no one touches her! She's mine!" It was a sharp command. She recognized the deep gritty voice. Asher.

Spivey's face crumpled into a disgruntled knot. "Yes, cap'n."

"The rest of you jackals, have you finished stripping the marauder?"

There were more utterances of reluctant dissent. And she sensed the men depart, some muttering curses under their breath as they passed.

"Spivey!"

The rotund little man stopped in his tracks for the door. His shoulders shrank together. "Yes, Asher?"

"Bring that other one in here too… Captain Corsair." Asher mocked, a near perfect imitation of Vedit Corsair.

"Aye."

There was a long silence. With growing dread, she realized she was alone with him now. The only sounds were the purposeful slow thud of his boots on grating and the creak of leather.

"Your somebody's little pet, aren't you?" Asher's voice was much closer than she'd expected him to be. He was mere dinches from her back. "Definitely not Captain Corsair's, I'd wager. Interesting."

Ellie felt a convulsive shiver build along her spine, but it was not from fear. A hollow, airy feeling began to invade her skull as the waves of vertigo pushed over her. Again the sickening roll knotted her stomach. The patchy grayness threatened her grasp on consciousness.

Not now. Not now.

She bit down on the inside of her mouth, bringing blood. The grayness dissolved. The pain seemed to help keep the attack at bay for the moment.

Asher did not seem to notice this small crisis.

"Your marauder… something nasty took a swipe at it. I'll be fortunate to sell it for scrap."

He now hovered at her shoulder. His eyes studied her, but not with the same animal want as Spivey. It was a calculating gaze, weighing options and discarding them in rapid succession.

"Very interesting," he nodded to himself. "Deserter maybe. But not an attendant. No control device."

His face hovered closer. He leaned into her neck, the mimic of a lover. She could feel his breath on her skin. She did not shrink away. She knew this play. It was a scare tactic, to see if she would blink.

"You must enjoy the sound of your own voice," she rasped, still keeping her eyes forward.

Asher laughed. It was amused and ridiculing at once. "It speaks. Good."

She met his eyes. "Let me go."

Asher ignored this. He pulled away and tilted his head. His brown eyes locked on hers.

"Hmm… green. Nice," he grinned. "I've never seen eyes that color on a Sebacean. You'd fetch a nice price… hybrid or not."

Ellie looked away, swallowing. There was a hellish possibility to be considered. Her status as a hybrid, a thing of contempt with in the Peacekeeper regime, would make her a valuable curiosity to others. Others that would pay.

"What? Did I offend, little girl?" he continued, drawing a finger over the line of her jaw. "That is what you are… isn't it? A half-breed? You should be used to that… being someone's property."

She jerked her chin away and he emitted an amused chuckle.

Undaunted he began to play with a strand of her hair. "Is Corsair your hero then? Did he rescue you from your master?"

"No. He did not," she hissed. "He is nothing to me."

"I see," Asher nodded. "The Peacekeeper that owned you... you bear his mark on your back. Is he also nothing to you?"

A hot flush came to her face. Her eyes narrowed on him. "You didn't dare-"

"I saw it under the collar of your jacket, little girl," he paused, feigning an offended tone. "You didn't think I would actually--"

"Frell you," she spat. Her anger renewed, overpowering her control.

"Now… there's an idea," he smirked. He rested his hands on the support overhead to which she was bound. His face loomed closer. This time she did flinch away from him as far as her restraints would allow.

"No." Asher's smile disappeared. There was an incongruous flicker of something in his gaze, a shade of pity, perhaps. His pervasive insolence faded for a moment. "Maybe not."

"You have to let me go." Ellie sensed the subtle change in his mood and moved on it. "This is-"

"This is business," he interrupted. His arrogance was back like a transparent shield. "Sorry. Nothing personal, little girl."

"Let me go now. You've got no idea who I am," she returned, toying with the idea of invoking Scorpius's name. Even if she no longer bore allegiance to him, she needed something for leverage, something to throw Asher off balance. Would he care? Would this arrogant cutthroat even know his name?

"No. I think I do," he answered. "You're bad luck. I can see that at twenty metras. That's all I need to know. I don't want to hear your story, little girl. The Uncharteds are full of tragic lives."

Suddenly a door somewhere behind her was thrown violently open. Asher shifted his gaze over her shoulder. His swagger renewed.

"Captain Corsair! Thank you ever so much for joining us."

Spivey and another of Asher's crew came into view dragging the semi-dazed Vedit between them. They deposited the battered Peacekeeper without ceremony to the deck at Ellie's feet.

She watched as Asher dowsed a small container of water into his face. The officer immediately started gasping. He rolled onto his hands and knees and coughed.

"Frelling… slaver-trash," Vedit choked, more indignant than injured. "House Corsair-"

"Captain Corsair." Asher leaned over him, his hands on his knees. "You're Hezmana and gone from Peacekeeper territory. The words House Corsair don't mean dren here."

Vedit looked up at Ellie, noticing her for the first time. The expression on his face warred between fury and indignation. "This is your fault, Crichton. If I were-"

"Shut up, Vedit." Ellie shot back.

"I should have left you to die," he continued.

"I said… shut up! I'm sick of hearing you!"

"Excuse me!" Asher yelled, stepping between them. His tone was incredulous. "The person holding the pulse gun dictates who shuts up. And that would be me, children. So… both of you… SHUT UP!"

Ellie and Vedit fell into a petulant silence, content to glare at each other for the moment.

"Now…" Asher continued. "We're gonna play a game. I'm going to ask questions and you give me answers."

"Oh frell." Ellie muttered, leaning her forehead against her up stretched arm.

"Good. You know it… Crichton?" Asher turned on her. "This should be fun then. I want to know how you got here. There hasn't been a Peacekeeper fleet pass through in half a cycle. I know that marauder didn't make it on its own."

A tense electric silence followed. Asher stared expectantly at Ellie, his arms folded against his chest. She looked away, staring into a dark corner.

"Come on. I need to know if I'm to expect company."

He turned to Vedit. The officer had pulled himself into a seated position, cradling his damaged face. He seemed more worried about swollen eye than his interrogation.

Asher nodded to Spivey. A pulse gun was instantly pressed into the side of Vedit's head.

"There is no fleet." Vedit spouted, his attention miraculously renewed. "The carrier was lost on the sensors."

Ellie drew in breath, but held her tongue.

"Go on." Asher demanded.

Spivey swatted Vedit across the back of the head.

The former captain fell quiet.

"Captain Corsair, you're not playing the game right." Asher warned.

Another nod to Spivey. The tiny whine of the pulse gun's priming mechanism was overly loud in the room.

Vedit looked up. His deep brown eyes met Ellie's. The rage in them was barely muted.

"This is a waste of my time." Asher judged, turning for the door. "Kill him. We can cut our loses with the girl."

"No! Wait!" Vedit yelped, cringing from the weapon. "You want ships? A prowler? I can tell you where to find one!"

"Vedit, what the hell are you talking about?" Ellie blurted.

Vedit's gaze hardened into something akin to vengeance.

"What, Corsair? What?" Asher prodded.

"Her prowler. It's experimental. Of that, I'm certain," Vedit continued. "I can show you where it is."

"You son of a bitch!" Ellie felt the incredulous rage run riot through her veins. "You told me you set the Jocosta adrift! You told me-"

"Shut her up!" Asher demanded, gesturing to his men. "Put her in my quarters."

"You bastard!" She shouted at Vedit. For the moment, the promise of what Asher had in mind for her was least of her concerns. "I will kill you myself!"

A smug smirk found the officer's face.

Fury was a beast clawing at the chest. She felt one of the Zenetians untie her hands as another held a firm grip on her arms. The moment she felt the tension of the bonds slacken, she slipped from their grasp with feline grace and dove at him, ready to rend him to pieces.

"You told me the Jocosta was adrift. That you didn't know where she was!"

Heavy, strong hands latched onto her, pulling her away from her prey. She lashed out, kicking ineffectually at Vedit.

"It will be a shame to say good-bye to you, little girl," Asher jeered, clearly amused. He melodramatically clutched his chest. "I think I'm in love!"

They dragged her, struggling, out of the door.

Part 2