Confluence

CHAPTER ELEVEN: DOMINIQUE RADKO

Back at their temporary home, Radko considered what they knew.

Callista OneLane’s premises had been protected by LoneField Security. When OneLane had pressed the emergency button, the people who responded should have been LoneField employees, not Redmond Fleet soldiers. Not only that, if you were paid to protect someone’s premises, surely you would know who they were, and not shoot them in the head the moment you entered a room.

OneLane had been Redmond’s first target. Protecting the report, Radko thought. In case OneLane had read it? What was in that report?

Stellan Vilhjalmsson had the report now, but Redmond Fleet headquarters wouldn’t know that because OneLane didn’t have a camera in her office. Unfortunately, the cameras Redmond would see showed Radko introducing herself as Tiana Chen and saying she had come to buy something.

EightFields might or might not go to the authorities. If the story he’d told was true, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop the military putting the same names together that Radko and her team had. They’d get to him in the end. Radko wanted to be off world by the time they did. But Aeolus wasn’t even a Redmond world. Why have a military operation off world?

“Do you think EightFields is sending us into a trap?”

“Why would he?” Chaudry asked.

“Don’t trust anyone, Chaudry.” But if EightFields had been telling the truth, they could verify it easily enough. “Van Heel, find out about the lockdown. It was supposed to be on the news. Han, see if you can find the Factor’s guest list.” On Lancia, it was easy to find out with whom Emperor Yu had dined. Most rulers had lists, and Han being who he was would know where to look. “Let me know if EightFields dined with him around the time or before the lockdown.”

“What do I do?” Chaudry asked.

“Make us look as different as we can without drawing attention to us.” They’d already changed once, but if EightFields did go to the authorities, he would describe them and what they were wearing. And he had names.

Chaudry seemed to have a talent for disguise. Anything would help, no matter what, even if Chaudry himself stood out. EightFields had known him, even without a layer of fake regenerated skin.

“We need to look different,” Radko said. “Shower, change. Let Chaudry make you up.”

She dressed in the pants Chaudry had picked out for her, and a shirt she thought might have been Han’s, then mulled over escape plans as she let him slick her hair back and use something from the cupboard to add a few dark streaks.

“Here’s the lockdown,” van Heel said. “Two weeks ago, for four days. Lots of speculation about who the Factor’s mysterious visitor was, and the reason for the lockdown. All nonurgent staff were sent home. Staff who stayed said the visitor was masked.”

“And I’ve got EightFields,” Han said, not long after.

Radko looked up once to see Han across from her, almost a stranger with his hair flattened on top and his eyebrows clumping out. The droop to one side of his face made him look as if he’d had a stroke. She looked closer at the scab on the side of his mouth. It looked real and made her want to look away.

“I don’t want to know,” Han said. “Van Heel stared at me before, too.” He looked back to his screen. “EightFields is a regular guest at the palace. He dined there a month prior to that, and three times in ten days before the lockdown.”

Van Heel was not so much unrecognizable as noticeably older. Chaudry had done something to her face to make her look ten years older than she was. Her skin was a shade darker, and her nose and cheeks were red and blotchy with the broken veins of an alcoholic.

“Nicely done, Chaudry,” Radko said. She didn’t want to know what she herself looked like.

For his own disguise, Chaudry had paired his uniform pants with a loose shirt and casual shoes, and spiked his hair with gel, arranged so that it looked as if he’d lost a few clumps of hair. If he hadn’t been such an obvious size, even Radko would have found it hard to recognize him.

“You’re very good at this, Chaudry.”

Chaudry frowned down at his trousers. “It feels wrong. Wearing part uniform.”

“It can get you court-martialed,” Han said.

“Han,” Radko chided.

“Seriously, I pulled someone in for that the other day.” Then Han grinned. “I won’t tell. Your indiscretion is safe with me.”

Chaudry tugged nervously at his trousers. “Maybe I should—”

“Wear them,” Radko said. “It’s the best disguise we’ve got. If you’re worried about repercussions, then I order you to wear them. Van Heel, Han, witness that please.”

“Duly witnessed.” Van Heel glared at Han. “Leave him be.”

They were starting to bond as a team, at least.

“Suggestions as to how we can get off this world,” Radko said.

“Come in like we did to Bane,” Han suggested. “Find ourselves a cargo port, and a shuttle that will collect us from there.”

That had been organized by Vega, who had a whole fleet of resources behind her.

It wasn’t only getting off world. They had to get on to a ship afterward. “We need that guy who delivers the shellfish,” Radko said.

Maybe they could.

Radko looked at Han. He had implied that Gunter Wong was a family friend. Using contacts and calling in favors was a very Lancian way to work. “How well do you know Gunter Wong, Han?”

“Gunter?”

“Gippian shellfish.”

“I know what he does, it’s just unexpected you asking.” Han considered it. “He’s more a friend of my father’s than he is mine. They’re neighbors. They see each other often.”

“What would he do if you asked him for a favor?”

“What sort of favor?”

“Send two orders of shellfish posthaste. One here to Redmond, the second to the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. We’d pay him, of course,” as Han opened his mouth. They had a budget. “He just needs to prioritize it. And provide a ship that can carry four passengers.”

“It’s something my father would ask, not me.”

“We’ll try Wong first. If unsuccessful, we’ll ask Renaud to do it.”

“Keep my father out of this.” Han’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know his name anyway?”

“She’s your team leader,” van Heel said. “She knows more about you than your family does.”

Did Radko imagine the whiteness around Han’s mouth? She was sure there were things she guessed about Han that his parents didn’t know. Like the fact that he wasn’t Yves Han at all.

“My family knows yours,” Radko said. “If we have to, I’ll talk to Renaud, but it’s best if we do it together.” She’d prefer he did it alone, for Renaud was close to the Emperor. He wouldn’t normally talk about Radko, but Michelle’s wedding would be the main topic of conversation around Baoshan Palace. Someone might mention other weddings, and Renaud might casually drop into the conversation that he’d spoken to Sattur Dow’s betrothed recently.

And if she was talking to Renaud, there was the other matter he might mention, so it was best to prepare Han for that. “You and I go way back, Han. One summer I smashed your face in. Did a lot of damage. I appreciate your not mentioning it, but Renaud might find it surprising we get along.”

Han went still.

“You were twelve.” She’d been nine. If this had been the Han she’d taken on, she wouldn’t have beaten him.

“I’ll get those numbers for you.” Han stood up and went into the other room.

Van Heel laughed. “He doesn’t like your remembering that, I take it.”

“No. It was humiliating. I’m sure he didn’t need to be reminded of it.” Radko stood up. “I’d best make amends.” She went inside, using the laughter of van Heel to hide the fact that she was stepping quietly now.

She came up silently behind Han, who was tapping something into his comms.

The comms in his hand wasn’t the brand-new, generic model they’d all been issued, either. It was the high-end deluxe model she’d told him to put away at the start of the mission.

“Turn it off, Han. Before you compromise our location by sending an unnecessary comms while we’re on a covert op, think about what you are doing.”

He yelped.

“What were you planning? A message to your parents to find out information you should already know?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I told you because it’s an infamous incident in both our childhoods. Yves would have remembered it. I was nine, he was twelve. I thrashed him.”

“You know, somehow I believe that.”

Radko smiled. “You’d better believe it. Yves was a really unpleasant boy.”

“And I’m an unpleasant man?”

“Yves might have been, but you’re not Yves, are you.” She watched his eyes but kept part of her gaze on his hands, to see if he’d go for his blaster. She nodded at the comms. “Doesn’t your family think it strange, your calling them up to ask about yourself?”

His gaze was watchful. “I was in an accident. I lost a lot of memory of my past life. My memory’s still not good.”

“How long ago?” Although she already knew.

She thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“Twelve and a half years.”

Just after he’d completed training at House of Sandhurst.

If he’d been going to shoot her, the danger was past. Radko sat down across from him. “Your accent slips sometimes when you’re stressed.” Like now. His vowels broadened the way Ean’s did, when Ean was tired. He’d be tired right now—if he was awake—for it was 02:00 hours Haladean sector time. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re from the slums.”

“I didn’t kill Yves if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had. He was a bastard when he was a child. I imagine he grew into something worse.”

Han made a wry moue. “How did you know?”

“You’re right-handed.” Not that Radko remembered Yves as left-handed, but he had been a linesman. “What happened to Yves?”

“I used to be Yves’s stand-in.” Han stared down at his comms, which was vibrating with an incoming message. He made another face, and held it up so Radko could see the name of the caller. Renaud Han.

Renaud could wait.

“Back when Yves was six or seven, someone threatened to kill him, so they found a double for public appearances. Me.”

She nodded.

“We could have been twins. His family taught me how to speak and behave like him. I loved his parents better than my own. They would meet me whenever they came to Baoshan, and they invited me to dinner a lot. All my parents thought about was the credits I could make them.”

“So what happened?”

“Yves liked to hurt people.” It looked as if it took an effort to say.

Radko nodded.

“He got worse as he got older. The whole family was scared of him. My parents, my sister.” Han rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, Yves’s parents, his sister. Yet when he wasn’t being a monster, he was charming.”

A lot of monsters were. “How did he die?” Han wouldn’t be running around pretending to be Yves if Yves were still alive.

“He hurt a young girl. Her mother tried to get him committed, but he was a Han.”

She didn’t need to interpret that. As a member of one of the Great Families, he’d have gotten off.

“She couldn’t get it to trial, so she tried to kill him. She tried a couple of times. She nearly succeeded, so Yves asked me to stand in for him at a function he had to attend. I needed the money. Except… the girl’s mother was as insane as Yves was. She booby-trapped the hotel where we were to change places. Killed herself and Yves and fifty other people as well.”

“So you pretended to be him?” She hadn’t known Han long, but he didn’t seem the sort.

“The hospital got the records mixed. They thought I was Yves. I spent six months in hospital having my body rebuilt.”

DNA was linked to one’s identity at birth. There was no way the hospital could have mixed the records.

Han finally looked at her. “It sounds like an excuse, I know, but I lost my memory for a while. Or not so much lost it, but I got really confused because everyone was treating me like Yves, and I knew these people. I remembered them. I remembered having dinner with them. When I finally realized what had happened, I tried to tell them. A number of times, but something always came up, and we never got to the important part. Then I… stopped telling them.”

His comms vibrated again. Han cut the call off.

“Sometimes I get a guilty conscience, but… I don’t know. They get distressed when I talk about it.”

Twelve years, he’d said. It was a long time to get away with pretending to be someone else. A long time to do it without being caught. The notes on Radko’s comms said Han had joined the Lancian fleet eleven and a half years prior.

“So you joined the fleet.”

“I thought that would solve things. It made it worse. And every time I go home—”

“But you do go home?”

Han shrugged.

“How often?”

“I’m at the barracks. We do three tendays, then ten days off.”

Every break, in other words.

“I know. But I couldn’t up and leave, and Annie is going through a stage right now, and Mother gets worried if I don’t.” Han shrugged again. “It’s hard to cut off.”

Even if the hospital had mistaken his identity, the fleet had rigorous security checks. The Great Families protected their progeny carefully. The DNA check for entry to the fleet should have exposed Han as an imposter. Yet it hadn’t.

“Radko, court-martial me, do whatever you need to, but don’t tell my parents. Please. They don’t deserve it.”

What if his parents already knew? Someone like Renaud Han had the contacts to change DNA records.

She didn’t promise. She couldn’t, for after this, she planned on visiting Amina and Renaud to see what they did know.

If she was allowed back on Lancia.

“I have to tell my boss,” she said. “I’m here to test out a particular ability Yves had that you don’t.”

“That he could torture people better than me?”

Who knew what Han might do now that she knew his secret? Maybe it was time to share some secrets of her own. “He spent ten years at House of Sandhurst training to be a linesman.”

“The doctors in the hospital explained that, before I regained my memory. It was the shock, they said. I might never regain my line abilities.”

Radko laughed. “That won’t gel with my boss. She’ll observe you for five minutes, then she’ll turn around and shoot you, for she’ll know you never were a linesman, and therefore, aren’t Yves Han. I’d rather tell her first. The Han family have influence.” She stood up and stretched. “She’s not a bad boss. A bit crusty, but okay for all that.” Better than anyone had expected, but they should have trusted Abram Galenos to pick the right person. Even if, like everyone else, Radko would have preferred that Abram had stayed.

“That good, huh?”

“She’s good, but everyone on ship will know. If—” She remembered in time not to mention Vega’s name. Han had worked for Vega for two years. He’d have noted her promotion, would know for whom she worked now. “If my boss doesn’t kill you, the rest of my team certainly will.” In their job, someone pretending to be a linesman would be trying to get onto one of the alien ships.

“All in five minutes?”

“All in five minutes,” Radko confirmed.

“What? They walk around with portable Havortian test kits?”

“Nothing so overt as that.” She tapped the comms he was turning over in his hands. “They will see that you are naturally right-handed. They will ask what you see and hear.” If he was near an alien ship. “And they will hear you sing.”

“I’m doing the singing in five minutes?”

“Most definitely.”

“So I walk on ship. You said it was a ship?”

She nodded.

“Singing, and holding something.”

“Han, you holster your blaster right-handed.”

“Oh.” Han was quiet a moment. “And the singing?”

“Maybe ten minutes.” More like an hour, given Vega would want to talk to him first.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She hoped her trust wasn’t misplaced. “Han. It’s a simple test, but it’s classified. If you mention it to anyone, I’ll bring up the secrecy act. And maybe I’ll shoot you.”

He’d been smiling. He stopped. “And you tell me this secret just after I tell you I’m not the person I’m pretending to be. Very funny. Even I got taken in.”

He’d come around. Radko made her voice hard. “Don’t mention what we talked about to anyone but me, Spacer Han. That’s an order.”

Van Heel found an old, out-of-the way shuttle field halfway across the continent. It was busier than the one on Barth, but busy meant twenty ships a week, and it was cargo only. Radko used van Heel’s comms—for her own was the contact for Tiana Chen in Callista OneLane’s files—to order a box of fresh shellfish to be delivered there. The shuttle pilot was to collect a package from the same shuttleport. This parcel was then to be delivered, along with another box of shellfish, to the Factor of the Lesser Gods as congratulations on his forthcoming nuptials. The pickup from Redmond was to ensure that the same ship carried both orders.

Both orders were coded for urgent delivery.

“I hope that’s not coming out of my credit,” van Heel said, as Radko handed the comms back.

“It’s coming out of our operations budget.”

“You can always put in a chit for it if it does,” Chaudry said. “We get that all the time in Stores. People charging things to the wrong account. It’s form 55735.”

“Wait,” Han said. “You’re telling me we have more than fifty-five thousand forms?”

“I’ve filled out about fifty thousand of them,” van Heel said. “Intelligence likes to track where their money goes.”

Radko had filled out the occasional order, but not many. “You should go onto a battleship. Not as many forms there.”

“Are you kidding? That’s worst of all.”

Chaudry nodded glum agreement. “All the time. And we have to audit 5 percent of them.”

“Audit?”

“What ship do you come from?”

Definitely not a ship where you filled out forms for everything. But then, no doubt Captain Helmo had that in hand. Radko would have to find out. “If anyone has to fill out a form for it, I’ll do it.”

She turned to van Heel. “Can you disable the tracker in the aircar?”

She nodded.

“Good. Not in the city,” for in a populous area an aircar without a tracker was guaranteed to draw the attention of the police. “We’ll stop somewhere along the way and take it out.”

It was crazy to realize that it would take almost a full day for them to get to the cargo field. Around the same amount of time it would take a spaceship to get to Lancia, load some shellfish, jump, and send a shuttle to land on Redmond.

“Han, you can call Gunter Wong on the way. Let’s go, people.”

The call to Lancia had a lag time of fifteen minutes.

That was unexpected. The lag between Redmond and Lancia had always been at least two hours. In wartime, it should be longer still. Radko checked to be sure the call really was going to Lancia. It was.

“Han.” Gunter Wong’s smile was wide and relieved. “Your father has been trying to contact you.” The smile changed to concern. “What’s wrong with you? Are you in hospital? Who is your doctor?”

Han looked startled.

“You’re in disguise, dummy,” van Heel hissed.

“Oh. No, Gunter, I’m fine. This is just a disguise. I’m supposed to look like this. I’m working undercover, and have been out of contact.”

Cross-sector messages were always a little schizophrenic. Because of the lag, you fitted as much into the conversation as you could before the other person received it.

“We sent through an order.” Han glanced at van Heel’s screen. “WhiteRiver Company has ordered some Gippian shellfish for their base here at Redmond, and another order to go to the Factor of the Lesser Gods on Aeolus. We’re hoping we can travel with the shellfish. That is, four passengers.”

Fifteen minutes later, Wong’s reply came back. Warm and reassuring, “Of course, Yves. But where are you? Your family is frantic. Your father called the barracks, and they told him you were on indefinite leave owing to personal issues. Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine. I’m working.” That answer wouldn’t get back to Wong for another fifteen minutes.

“If you have problems, you know you can go home to them.”

Han rubbed his eyes. “I’m fine, Gunter. I just need passage off Redmond for myself and my friends. We’re hoping to catch the shuttle your pilot brings the shellfish down in. It will need to carry at least four people. And we’ll need to be able to book passage on the ship.”

“I like your family,” Chaudry said, as they waited for the signal to return to Lancia and for Wong to reply.

“Me too, Chaudry. Me too.” Han glanced at Radko, looked away.

If Renaud and Amina Han knew he wasn’t their true son, and were complicit in whatever had happened, Radko wasn’t going to give him away.

By the time the next message arrived, Gunter Wong had someone with him.

“Papa,” Han said, but that wouldn’t get back for another fifteen minutes either.

How close were Gunter and Renaud, for Gunter to be able to call, and get, his neighbor over in less than half an hour?

Renaud Han looked haggard. “Yves. If there’s a ransom, we will pay it.”

“A ransom?”

Why would Han’s father assume such a thing?

“No one said anything about a ransom, Papa. I’m working.”

On a job that was getting more farcical by the minute. The longer this call went on, the more likely Redmond was to track it. Radko made winding motions with her finger.

Han nodded. “We need.” His voice caught and he paused to breathe deeply before he could continue. “We need to get off this world. We sent an order through to Gunter. We want to travel with that order. We called hoping to fast-track the order, and to ensure we could get passage with it. Please, Papa.”

Did he realize he’d added that last “please”?

This time, while they waited for the reply, Han muted the microphone on his comms. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Whatever we do,” van Heel said, “let’s not tell anyone we called your dad and asked him to get us out of trouble.”

Even Radko managed a chuckle.

Van Heel added, “Provided he stops panicking enough to help us out, that is.”

“I like him,” Chaudry said. “He’s worried.”

“Yes, but why, Chaudry? It’s a simple request. Please can you use your contacts to push this order through. Oh, and can you also make sure that whatever ship you send to do it picks up four passengers as well.” Van Heel held out her hands, palms up. “Yet this man is running around in circles. Both of them are. Haven’t you ever been away from home before, Han?”

“Of course I have. I work in Baoshan. My family lives in Han Province.”

“Never off world then?”

“I’ve only been off world once,” Chaudry said. “When I went to…” He trailed away. Radko strained to hear and thought the mumble ended in “Isador.”

Chaudry had spent six years as a trainee linesman at House of Isador.

“We travel,” Han said.

As van Heel had said, Han’s request was simple enough. So why had Renaud and Gunter reacted the way they had? What was Radko missing?

Han blew on his fingers as if they were cold. He said to Radko, “My father’s not normally—”

She nodded and cut off the rest of the apology with a motion of her hand. “If you can find out why he’s concerned, do so, but I want you to wrap it up next time through. We can’t talk much longer without Redmond picking up the signal.” She looked at van Heel. “Let me know when they do pick us up. And disable the tracker as of now.”

Han and van Heel both nodded.

It was closer to major population areas than she would have liked, but it might delay anyone associating this particular aircar with the call to Lancia. Redmond couldn’t track the signal through their ops comms, for autolocation had been turned off, but they could triangulate the call, then slowly check the aircars one by one.

They waited in silence for the return message. It wasn’t any less puzzling than the earlier communications.

Renaud struggled to speak. “I don’t know what lies they used to get you to Redmond, Yves, but they’re lying to you.”

Gunter Wong cut in. “Don’t do what they’re asking, Yves. It’s a trap. Cancel this order. They’re setting you up. The Factor is allergic to shellfish. Sending a gift like this. It’s as if you’re threatening his life. If you accompany that delivery, they’re sending you to your death.”

Maybe that was all they were worried about. If Wong was correct about the allergies, then delivering the shellfish to the Factor would be perceived as a threat. But why all the talk about ransom payments at the start of the conversation? Worse, not only had Renaud confirmed that they were on Redmond; Wong had told the enemy where they planned to go next.

“Yves,” Renaud said urgently, “I’ve contacted someone at Fleet Headquarters. They’ll know what to do. They’ll get you out of it.”

Radko nearly groaned aloud.

Van Heel caught her eye, pointed to the screen. “Aircraft.”

Closing in fast. That kind of speed meant military.

It was too soon for the military to have triangulated them. Too soon, even for Renaud Han’s well-meaning—if misguided—request for help from Fleet Headquarters to have been intercepted by a Redmond spy.

“Wrap this up, Han,” Radko said.

Han swallowed hard. “Papa, Gunter, I have to go. But please don’t cancel that shipment.” He clicked off.

“What weapons have we got?” Radko asked although she already knew. One tranq gun, six blasters, and a Pandora field diffuser.

She switched to one of the downward-facing cameras, to see what type of country they were flying over. Rocky outcrops.

“Can you set us down anywhere, van Heel?” On the ground they’d be stationary targets, but if the aircraft shot them out of the air, it would be worse. “Better yet, how far away are we from a town or city?”

Maybe they wouldn’t have to fight it out at all if they could hide.

“Fifty kilometers from a twenty-person settlement, three hundred from one with twenty thousand.”

You couldn’t hide among twenty people.

“They might not be after us,” Chaudry said.

It wouldn’t matter. As soon as they got close enough to see the aircar, they’d stop it because no one went anywhere without a tracker.

“Maybe we should ask Han’s family to pay Redmond off,” van Heel said. “Since they’re so ready to butt in.”

“That was uncalled for,” Radko said. “Especially since I was the one who asked for it.”

“My family would help,” Chaudry said. “If they could.”

“We don’t need amateurs,” van Heel said. “Not from anyone’s family, and I’m pleased to say that mine wouldn’t. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years, anyway.”

“Clearly you don’t move in the circles I do,” Han said. “We ask each other for favors all the time.”

He was right. Life was one massive game of requests and counterrequests.

Radko ignored the conversation going on behind her as she decided the odds.

The only weapon that might be of any use against another aircar was the Pandora field diffuser. They were designed for use in space, placed on the outside of ships to destroy tiny dust particles and meteor clouds before they got close enough to damage the ship. Radko needed a stable surface to concentrate the beam and to have something large to aim at. A diffuser at its normal setting could destroy micron-sized particles but nothing larger.

“Keep going for the moment,” Radko said. “Head toward the larger town.”

Van Heel changed course.

The aircraft behind them changed course, too.

Radko blew her breath out in a hiss. That wasn’t triangulation. “They’re tracking us.”

Van Heel checked. “The tracker is disabled.”

“Something is emitting a signal. Change course to the smaller town. Then see if you can find what it’s using to track us.”

Van Heel reset the course. The aircars followed. She rummaged through her bag of technology. “I’m sure I brought—” She pulled a small meter out triumphantly. “I did.”

She set it up rapidly.

“Han, Chaudry,” Radko said. “Check your weapons. I want them ready to use.”

Han’s would be fine, but Chaudry wasn’t used to going armed, and she didn’t want to single him out. Not at the moment.

“Got it,” van Heel said triumphantly.

Her mobile tracker pointed directly at Han.

“Han,” Radko said. “Empty your pockets.”

“I really didn’t think this day could get worse.” Han pulled everything out of his pockets and dropped the contents onto the seat he’d been sitting in earlier. Among them was his personal comms, which he’d pulled out to check on Radko, back while they’d still been in the apartment.

“You left your personal comms on. I should toss you out of this car.” In a way, she was as much to blame as Han because Han had shown her Renaud trying to call earlier. She should have insisted he turn it off. Of course, Redmond would intercept calls to or from Lancia. They were the enemy. The comms must have been transmitting ever since.

“Yup. It just got a lot, lot worse.” Han picked it up to turn it off.

“Wait,” Radko said. “Anyone else’s comms on? No? Good. Don’t switch it off yet. We might be able to use it. Continue toward the settlement, van Heel.”

She made her take the aircar low, near ground that looked less rocky. “As close as you can,” she told van Heel, “and override the door for me.”

Van Heel did.

Radko opened the door, leaned out, dropped the comms, then leaned back and wrestled the door closed again.