Cinque raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Let’s not forget the value of the cargo she shipped on Turalon. And, impressive as that was, the wealth that poured out of Ashanti’s holds was ten times as stunning. All of it the product of Corporate Mine, whatever that is. So, while Supervisor Aguila may have signed over Port Authority to a bunch of colonists, with one shipment, she matched the entire output of three years of Solar System’s extractive production.”

“More stunning,” Chad said, “that one cargo contained more beryllium, rhodium, and ruthenium than the Belt could produce in ten years. And at a fragment of the cost per ton.”

Bartolome added dryly, “Not to mention the gemstones. No one will forget Dan Wirth strolling into Tiboronne wearing his rhodium and gold chains in addition to that garish ruby at his throat. So striking was it that no one noticed that he had Sharascena, the most sought-after courtesan in Transluna, on his arm. All they saw was that giant red gem as big as a goose egg.”

“So, here we sit.” Again, Falise took their measure. “None of us wanted to be here. We’ve lived for a year and seven months in limbo, wondering if we were going to live or vanish in space. But we made it.” She gestured at the holo of Donovan, spinning in the air before them. “The other families couldn’t react in time, so it’s the four of us.” A beat. “Now, what are we going to do about it?”

“Take it all,” Cinque met each of their eyes in turn. “What can a bunch of rustic colonists, or Kalico Aguila, no matter how capable, do to stop us? We have a ship full of supplies and thirty marines.”

Chad nodded. “And Creamer will do as we ask. He knows exactly where his best interests lie.”

Falise shrugged. Sounded like a plan, but something down deep bothered her. Like she was missing some elemental piece of the puzzle.

Chapter 9

  9  

“Kylee?” The word sounded frail. Barely penetrated the night chime. Brought Kylee Simonov upright out of a sound sleep. She blinked, senses clearing as Flute shifted beside her. Had she heard the call or dreamed it?

“Wake up!” Rocket’s voice insisted, the part of him that remained inside her bringing her upright where she was propped on Flute’s warm belly. Alert, she opened her senses to the night.

She was in her cabin on the outskirts of the Briggs homestead where the agricultural fields gave way to the bush. It wasn’t much of a house, just four plastered walls, a roof, and a cistern-fed sink with a small kitchen. She shared it with Flute and Tip—or had before Tip vanished into the bush to “find himself.” Whatever that meant.