[Black Fleet Crisis] - 02(39)

“I’m wondering how two Imperial agents could hide for so long in a place where everyone knows everyone else and nothing changes very quickly,” Luke said.

“I’m wondering why they would.”

“Why—because they still want us—want the White Current as a weapon.”

“But why would they think anyone would be coming back there? Why would they be expecting you?”

She was quiet for a time. “I’ve been asking questions for a long time, trying to find the circle,” she said. “I haven’t always been as careful as I should have been, either in what I asked or who I asked.”

“Who did you tell that you were planning to go to Lucazec?”

“Only you,” she said. “But I tried sending messages to the circle, to Wialu. I talked to the customs and immigration office on Lucazec. I applied for every starliner job posted on Carratos, hoping to get a working passage.

I checked open ticket prices constantly, every time new rates were posted.”

“So people started to know who you were, and something about what you were interested in.”

“More than that,” she said. “I made rather a pest of myself. I hung around the spaceport dives when a ship came in, hoping the crews might know something. I found ways of getting passenger lists. I talked to everyone I could who might know anything.” Her smile was full of regret. “It wasn’t until later that I thought to be more discreet.”

“The people you’d been left with—” “I didn’t get any help from them,” she said. “They forbade me to speak to them about the circle, and punished me for looking on my own.”

“They must have been afraid for you—maybe for themselves, too. They were supposed to hide you, weren’t they? And you refused to stay hidden.”

“It’s easier to understand than it is to forgive,” she said. “They kept me from being where I belonged. I can’t forgive that until I find the circle again. If I never do, I don’t think I can ever forgive her.”

“Her?”

“Talsava,” she said. “My guardian on Carratos. But if I start talking about her now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

“All right,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” said Akanah. “I’ll tell you about it, sometime.”

“When you’re ready.”

He thought that had ended the conversation. He heard Akanah changing position and pictured her lying on her side, her head on her folded arms. He was surprised when she spoke his name.

“What?”

“What do you think the chances are that someone will be looking for us on Teyr?”

“Greater than zero,” Luke said. “But we’ll be careful.

Go to sleep, now.”

She did not argue or answer, and Luke lapsed into silence as well, wondering why he felt as though none of his questions had been answered, and the most important ones had never been asked at all.

Where Lucazec was rustic, Teyr was bureaucratic.

Located near the juncture of three busy spaceways and wearing a spectacular four-thousand-kilometer-long canyon like a dueling scar, Teyr was one of the New Republic’s boom worlds. Most of the boom was in visitors and vacationers. Fearing unbridled growth, Teyr’s leaders purposefully discouraged would-be immigrants with a maze of regulations, a series of successively higher application hurdles, and a determinedly officious Citizen Services Corps. The unofficial tourism motto was “Come see spectacular Teyr Rift. Then go home.”

While still inbound, Luke and Akanah were offered the unattractive choice of parking their craft at one of the vast orbital parking areas and shuttling down to the surface, or paying four times as much in landing fees to bring the skiff down at a spaceport of Teyr’s choosing.

“I don’t like the idea of being down there and having to depend on third parties to get back to our ship up here,” Luke said. “If someone should decide they want to delay our departure, I like our chances better if we don’t have to jump quite so high.”

“But I don’t have that kind of money, Luke,” said Akanah. “You know that. “

“I think Li Stonn is good for it,” Luke said. He flashed a wry smile that disappeared behind his illusion of age, then tapped the comm key.

“Teyr Flight Control, this is Mud Sloth—I’d like to request landing authorization.”

“Copy, Mud Sloth, your queue number is alpha-three-nine, confirm.”

“Confirm, alpha-three-nine,” Luke said. “Could you tell me, is there any chance that we could possibly put down at Turos Noth? We’re going to be meeting some friends—” “Landing sites are allocated on a space-available basis according to standard protocols. Ground transportation is available at all spaceports. The Rift Skyrail connects all spaceports with all major population centers and with visitor centers,