Confluence

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: DOMINIQUE RADKO

Radko came around to the sound of two people arguing. They were speaking Standard, but one had the distinct uptrill of a native Redmond speaker, and the other had flatter tones she didn’t recognize.

“I’ve told you before, Commander Martel. No more than two tranquilizers per person. It’s dangerous,” the Redmond speaker said.

“I’m not putting my crew in danger because your crazy linesmen won’t board a shuttle, Dr. Quinn. Argo’s got scratch marks down his face that will need regen.”

“Two tranquilizers would have been enough.”

Radko couldn’t move her arms or her legs. She’d taken at least three tranquilizers herself. Would it wear off? She tried to open her eyes. Couldn’t do that either.

“We had to get them out fast,” Martel said.

“We didn’t need to go at all. You caught everyone.”

Was her team all right? Were they immobilized like her?

“The lab was compromised. You know the rules. Especially this close to culmination. And remember, this is two weeks after someone stole your report.”

“It wasn’t my report they stole.” But Quinn’s tone became more reasonable. “Even so, taking them onto a space station. You know they hate that.”

The slight vibration and the murmur of the air supply had been so familiar Radko hadn’t realized they were in space. By the sounds, she was on a shuttle.

“They hate everything and everyone.” Martel brushed past Radko. She tried to open her eyes again. Still couldn’t.

“Any luck?” The voice was directed close to her.

“Nothing.” A third voice, as flat as Martel’s. Something dropped onto a surface nearby. “Two comms. Neither of which I can read; they look new. A knife in her boot. An arsenal around her waist, sourced from all over the galaxy. A lot of credit in chits.”

The sleeve brushed her again. “This comms looks remarkably familiar.”

Radko wanted to be Ean, who didn’t need his eyes or ears to see through the lines.

“Redmond military property. It strikes me, Dr. Quinn, that your people are very loose with classified information.”

Yet Martel didn’t have a Redmond accent. Was he part of TwoPaths Engineering? Or part of a third group they didn’t know about?

“You’re supposed to be protecting us.”

“We’re supposed to, Quinn? Wasn’t your government doing that? And they’re doing a good job, too, as we can all see.” From the sudden extra loudness in his voice, Radko knew he’d turned back to look her. “Do you think this one’s the leader?”

“I’d guess,” said the man who, presumably, had emptied her pockets. “She’s got one of Bergin’s fake entry chits, but I can’t ID her until we crack her comms.”

“She’ll be Lancastrian.” Martel sounded confident. Radko wished she could see him. “Look at her face.”

There were benefits to looking like a relation to the Crown Princess of Lancia but disadvantages as well. The disadvantages outweighed the advantages.

“Why would they be so stupid. We’ve agreed—”

“You heard Bach’s call the other day. That guy’s father. Only they said he was on Redmond.”

Bach wasn’t a common name on Lancia. The only Bach that Radko knew was Sergey Bach, Emperor Yu’s head of security.

Renaud Han had called someone to get Han out of Redmond. What if he’d called Bach? Why would Bach call these people?

“What else did we find?” the officer asked.

“Comms on the other two.”

So two of them had been caught. Which two?

She couldn’t do anything for the moment, so she lay and listened. This drug immobilized the muscles but didn’t immobilize the mind.