8

The Bern ship brought up from impound was far larger than Anlyn had expected. It was a warship, twice the size of the Ambassadorial craft she’d lost. She nearly balked and asked for another, wondering if she and Edison could operate such a craft for long periods of time.

The airlock hissed open, and a frazzled-looking pilot exited with his arms held high. Anlyn and Edison moved aside as the large Drenard squeezed past the duo to get to the control room. Bishar waved him through the door and thanked him, ushering him to the others who had stopped what they were doing to watch the bizarre confrontation.

“You aren’t thinking clearly,” Bishar said to Anlyn.

For a brief moment, she wondered if he was right. Perhaps setting off to aid Molly was just another way of running from home, from the looming war, from all her royal responsibilities. Maybe her real duty was back in Drenard’s Pinnacle, sitting around the Circle where she could fight with words.

She shook the doubts away and backed toward the door, keeping the lance between her and Bishar. “Check the ship,” she told Edison in English.

She stayed near the airlock, the weight of the lance and the bluff it represented already exhausting her. Edison disappeared inside.

“There’ll be no foul play,” Bishar assured her. “My actions will not be questioned when I write this up.”

“I’m not in the most trusting of moods, Cousin. I’ve half a mind to take you with us to make sure nothing happens. I hope you can appreciate my honor for not doing so.”

Bishar laughed nervously. “I do. More than you know. When you get to the rift, I’ll have a barrier tug remove a few canisters. We’ll replace some of the interior ones, but I won’t have them out for long. If you hesitate to go through, I’ll assume you came to your senses, and you can dock up back here. I’ll gladly forgive these transgressions and have you as a guest for dinner. We’ll prepare the finest Drenardian cuisine and eat in honor of the dead. Then we’ll see about working toward justice come morrow.”

“If you’re sincere, I appreciate the offer. You’ve been more than fair.”

After a few minutes, Edison stomped back through the airlock, his chest puffing as if after a great run. He spoke to Anlyn in English: “Vacated, by rough inspection. Single deck with a looped perimeter passageway. Adequate nourishment and spares, but absolute dearth of armaments.”

“You had the weapons systems removed?” Anlyn asked Bishar.

“Of course, but not just now. We do that for every ship we capture and impound.” He glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Are you really planning on waging war with those who rule the rest of the universe?”

“I’m hoping I don’t need to defend myself from friends and family before I get there,” Anlyn replied.

A sudden sadness washed over Bishar’s face, erasing the tension and anger. “I’m sorry we met like this,” he said.