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  "You found …"

  "Not exactly, but it has to be close. Do you remember that incredible smell?" His throat worked.

  M'kar nodded. After their battle two years ago, her nostrils had been scorched so she couldn't smell anything for nearly a lun. She had been grateful. The overbearing sweetness in the air from the monstrosity they had fought would never fade from her memory.

  "Well, I ran into it again. What we found … makes it run away." He let out a snort. "Fly away, anyway."

  "Garion." M'kar took a step closer.

  He reached into his belt pouch to extract a data wafer. The other hand he brought from behind his back. It held a ti box, the wrapper faded but still clearly proclaiming it the genuine ti grown on Le'anka for purifying the blood, stimulating the mind, and calming the nervous system. With a delicate flavor and aroma that didn't need enhancing with sweeteners.

  M'kar doubted the box held ti, either pressed in blocks or loose leaf. Whatever it held would fill both her cupped hands.

  "As soon as you're back on your ship, put the box in stasis. All the others are in stasis. Best thing we could think of. The last thing we need is to double the ship's population."

  "Of what?" A gentle brush of her mind didn’t reveal anything alive in the box. However, she had been wrong before. Being one of the strongest animal-oriented psionic Talents ever trained at the Academy didn't preclude mistakes or limits. She simply hadn't found the wall hard enough and thick enough to make her brain bounce around like an old-fashioned rubber ball.

  That battle that had scarred their hearts, minds, and bodies had come close, though. She had slammed against something out of legend, terror-become-flesh. Her brain hadn't bounced that time.

  "This violates so many rules. Alliance and survey ship guidelines and my vows to my captain, but this --" Dulit swallowed hard. "Thyal needs this."

  "Medicine?" She almost snatched the box and cradled it close. "You removed plants from a new planet without going through all the regs and clearance and verification processes?"

  "Not a plant."

  The man was frightened, she decided. His icy blue eyes radiated tension and an odd, exhausted kind of euphoria.

  "Tell me. I won't take anything that might endanger the crew. We have children on board."

  "Look at it my way, we have babies on my ship. The hope of an entire race. Enlo help us, my captain says we have to go back. I keep arguing we should head straight to the Academy, not take any chances. He says we have a greater responsibility to go back and find out if any survived. If we managed to drag the monsters with us and lost them. Or worse, the monsters are still there, killing everything that's left."

  He tossed the data wafer to her. M'kar clutched the box against her chest while reaching with her free hand. The wafer bounced on her palm before she caught it.

  "Babies. Some haven't been born yet. In stasis. Like that should be." He waved his hand at the ti box. "M'kar, I swear on the infrenx. I don't care if I get shot out the repulsion tubes for this, Thyal is more important. Once you look at the data and you untangle it, you'll agree."

  Remember, he was always the one who kept the rest of us out of mischief.

  M'kar flinched, hearing the smooth baritone voice in her head. She glanced at Dulit, but he didn't seem to hear.

  No, he can't hear me. I've been trying. I'm only linked with you. Thyal, their classmate left on Le'anka, chuckled softly.

  All right, she shot back, so he isn't reacting to any pressure. Not that you would ever pressure anyone to do anything unethical.

  Your faith in me is most gratifying.

  At least give me a little warning when you initiate contact? She bit her lip to keep a straight face. Now was not the time to explain to Dulit that she could hear Thyal in her mind. It went beyond everything even the Premier Masters on Le'anka understood about mind-touch.

  I tried --

  Liar.

  The critter-chatter, as you so aptly call it, has been interfering.

  M'kar looked down at the ti box. "So this is alive?"

  "Hope so. Took it out of stasis when you acknowledged the page." Dulit rubbed his face with his palms. "It should go back into stasis without any harm if you do it right away."

  "Tell me." She lowered her voice and stepped closer. The tension radiating off him went up a few notches in intensity.

  "Can't. Time is running out. I need to return before I'm missed. Everyone is paranoid, and it's a struggle keeping the babies quiet. Then that idiot took …" He gestured at the ti box. "Thought he could clear up some debts. My captain might understand why I gave it to you, but nobody else will. It's splitting us apart, the ones who bonded and the ones on the outside, looking in. Thought we were family. Well, when you get Hivers on your tail --"

  She flinched at his words. He bared his teeth in a strained grin.

  "Yeah, they tailed us. We finally might have something to fight them off, but not if ... Just do this for me. Risk it all. For Thyal."

  M'kar tucked the data wafer in her pocket and dropped down on the bench, to wrap her arm around him. Dulit's uniform hung loose, and she thought she felt his ribs through the jacket and shirt.

  "My ship is in upgrades, but if you're in trouble, if you need an escort all the way to Le'anka, give the word. My captain trusts me."

  "We're dealing with our problems. I just had to get this to you. Enlo listened to my call for help, I tell you." He tried to smile. "By the time you get to Le'anka, you'll have it figured out."

  "What figured out?" She fought down the need to wrap her arm around his neck and squeeze until he stopped talking in circles. M'kar wanted to open the ti box right there, but she trusted her instincts. Whatever was in the box, it shouldn't be revealed where prying enemy eyes could see -- or access security video feed.

  "Been trying. Made some progress. I'm not a tenth as strong as you, and it's taking all of me to help the rest."

  "Help the rest with what?"

  "We thought we could keep it all contained, but that idiot Spinkerbind snuck off. Talk about a negative I.Q. He has debts out the wazzoo on this station, and he's stupid enough to think he can pay them off with … well, yeah, he probably could, but we violated a dozen regulations just leaving the planet. We couldn't leave them behind. And that's why we have to go back. To find out."

  "Leave who behind?" M'kar stood up and backed away. The need to shake him until his eyeballs rattled had grown strong enough to hurt.

  "They're part of us now. Nice, and kind of scary. Ever think about never being alone, ever again? There's a good part and a bad part." Dulit shuddered. "Anyway, Spinkerbind took one. Our muscle guys have caught up with him. They're bringing him back, but who knows who might have seen it?"

  "I don't know," she growled, pitching her voice low, "because you're not speaking a lick of sense. What is in the box?"

  "Please, for Thyal, for the sake of an entire race in trouble, just get it to him, secret and invisible and faster than the infrenx flies. Then ask all the questions you want."

  He gestured at the wafer. "Gotta apologize for the headache you've got waiting for you. We found a Chute!"

  M'kar shook her head, not sure she had heard him right. Dulit just grinned, and she let out a low whistle of appreciation.

  Tyers Chutes were the next best things to the theorized Gates of the Gatekeepers, who had scattered the Human tribes across the universe. They were essentially wormholes, crossing massive distances in a rough, brief ride that twisted a ship through multiple dimensions and warped all sensory data with energy fields that couldn't be clearly analyzed. There was no way of determining the energy levels of Chutes from the outside, as they were impervious to the most powerful sensors. That also made them difficult to find. The first dozen Chutes had been discovered by ships literally stumbling into them. Only in the last twenty Standard years had science found a way to detect the possibility of a Chute through the energy and gravitational readings and other phenomena in nearby space. The newest theory about
Gates was that the Gatekeepers had found a way to control Chutes, which occurred naturally.

  "We were dodging and twisting," he continued after a moment, "trying to block and scatter our readings, and we just stumbled into it. The Hivers zapped our systems with something. They latched onto us, and when we found the Chute we didn't have any choice. We dove in. When we came back, luns later, they were waiting. We shook them off, but they scrambled our systems so bad, it's Enlo's grace alone that got us here. I gave you all our records. Got a lot of deciphering and decoding and decrypting to do. Sorry."

  "Okay, some of this makes sense now. You have to go back to keep the kai-hess from claiming the Chute and locking out the Alliance. Finder's fees will retrofit your entire ship to top-line specs and set up everyone for retirement."

  "Yeah, there's that." He grinned for a few seconds, a momentary easing of the tension that was almost audible. That bit of triumph faded. "The little ones, though, they're more important."

  "How many do you have?"

  He shuddered. "Feels like hundreds. Turns out when you get one, you get two more. All wanting us to stop and play and teach them and feed them and sing to them and … I can handle one. But not a ship full of them."

  "So help me, Dulit, if you don't start talking straight --" M'kar reached for her knife. Not her everyday, utilitarian knife. This one was ceremonial, the blade was dull compared to the sharpness required by ritual and her noble blood. Of course, Dulit and any indiferps she might run into on the station wouldn't know the blade was safety-bonded per station regulations. Even dressed in ready-for-trouble civilian garb, she needed a knife, just to feel fully dressed. She would have to press hard and put some muscle into any effort if she wanted to slice anyone open.

  Again, Dulit didn't know that.

  Something is coming, Thyal said.

  M'kar ducked as a swirl of cream and lavender hide and talons spun around her head, chattering at nearly sonic levels.

  "Poki!" Dulit snatched the double handful of fury out of the air and clutched it to his chest. "She thinks you were going to hurt me."

  "I was considering it." M'kar clutched her knife.

  The little dragon Dulit had shoved halfway inside his jacket glared at her. An image passed between their minds. M'kar drew her knife. The cream-and-lavendar little menace bit her hand.

  We're friends, little cousin. Dulit and me. Friends argue. They tease.

  That's right. Dulit grinned crookedly and stroked from the wedge-shaped head, down the long, supple neck. Well, that proves something. Despite how intelligent it seems, it's entirely beastly, otherwise we couldn't talk through it. Come out and make friends, Poki.

  "You named it after a child's story?" M'kar's fingers twitched, wanting to touch that hide, a mixture of leather and jewel-like facets. This was the source of the critter-chatter nibbling at the edges of her mind. How many did they have on the Corona?

  "It's a long story. See, she likes you now." He shifted the miniature dragon to his forearm, cradled against his chest. The little creature wrapped its long, forked tail twice around his arm. Its eyes were now a mixture of blue and lavender sparkles.

  "Is that what's …" M'kar nodded at the box clutched in the crook of her arm.

  "Egg."

  "An egg. A dragon egg."

  "Dracs. Figured, we discovered them, discovered their world. We get to name them."

  "True."

  "They're intelligent. They teleport. Thyal needs one."

  If I use my invalid status as an excuse to be greedy and tell you to hurry, Thyal began.

  Shut up. I'm thinking.

  Laughter tickled through their link.

  Raised voices rang off the walls of the docking arm. Dulit looked past her and he groaned.

  "You need to get out now." Poki, go home.

  The little drac vanished with a sub-audible pop.

  "You owe me." So help me, I want one, too.

  He did say he had a ship full of babies, so maybe a ship full of eggs?

  "Add it to my tab." Dulit held out his hand, palm up. "Be safe, hearth-sister. Give my best to Thyal."

  "Be safe yourself. Tell your captain to hurry. I'll wait for you on Le'anka." She grasped his wrist as his fingers grasped hers and they shook twice before releasing.

  With a sharp nod, he turned and hurried to slap the controls for the iris. The approaching voices and footsteps got louder. Dulit ducked through the iris and out of sight before it finished opening.

  M'kar tucked the ti box inside her tunic, glad she had worn civvies for rambling around the station to investigate the odd psionic sensations. Plenty of room inside the tunic. No place to tuck anything if she had been in uniform. Five steps took her to the shelter of an open docking portal. From the sinus-desicating smells, a cleaning crew was disinfecting the flexible tube. She hid in the shadows and watched the crew hurrying down the docking arm to the Corona's portal. One man, bowed head and black eye, had to be the troublemaker, Spinkerbind.

  In moments, they were all through the iris portal Dulit had left open. M'kar waited, watching until the iris closed. For good measure, she waited for the lights to flash through the sequence indicating the iris at the other end had opened, the crew had gone through, and the iris closed again.

  Do you think we should take the risk and look at this egg before I put it back in stasis?

  I admit to being greedy. Thyal chuckled. You need to untangle that data, to clear away as much official censure for Dulit as you can.

  You're helping me.

  I'd be upset if you didn't let me.

  As soon as we're close enough to Le'anka, I'm going to send this knot to you. How we're going to explain … We've pretty much tangled ourselves. You can't lie to your parents about why I'm sending the egg to you, and the data. Especially since we want you to keep it.

  Hmm, yes. I'm quite enjoying keeping this anomalous link between us secret. I'm afraid once my parents dive into understanding it, we'll discover that it's a side-effect of my paralysis. Once my healing progresses far enough … He sighed.

  M'kar echoed the sigh.

  She kept the ti box hidden inside her tunic while she strolled slowly down the dock to the airlock and into the central column of the station.

  Maybe you can go back to teaching, once you have a drac to fetch and carry for you. I wonder how large they grow.

  Stop tormenting me. Get back to the ship and get to work on deciphering the tangle.

  M'kar blinked away a suspicious warmth and wet from her eyes. Thyal hadn't sounded this excited in far too long. The novelty and sense of mischief that came with their mind-link, when all data and experience said it shouldn't exist, had helped keep their spirits up since the battle that had imprisoned Thyal in his broken body. Still, the drudgery and depression that came from the glacial pace of his healing progress wore on them both. In just under two Standard years, Thyal had regained control of his mouth. He could eat instead of taking nourishment through infusion and talk almost as clearly as before the battle. He could use his hands, and lift his arms using the muscles in his shoulders and back.

  What if only animal-telepaths can talk to dracs? She nearly stumbled, three steps away from a lift tube.

  No, it sounds like others on the ship have the mental bond that I felt between him and -- Poki, did he say?

  Right. Maybe he's so worn out and drained from helping everyone else deal with their baby dragons. What are you going to name yours? Of course, that will depend if it's a boy or a girl, won't it? M'kar grinned as the lift door opened. How do you tell if a drac is a boy or a girl?

  No response. She tapped the control, requesting the next level. The lift door hissed close.

  Thyal?

  No response. She had to focus outward when the lift came to the next level and the door hissed open. M'kar studied the node’s four corridors, disoriented for just a moment. She figured out where she was and headed down the second corridor on the left.

  She couldn't push hard enough to determ
ine if Thyal was busy with someone physically in his room on Le'anka, or their link had finally snapped. She shuddered at that thought. The timing was atrocious, if that had happened. She needed Thyal's help if she was going to untangle all the data Dulit had given her. Especially if she couldn't share it with anyone on board the ship. Maybe she should. Sometimes she shared the mindset of Captain Shryne, who broke regulations to do what was ethically right and morally true. It was a side benefit when she found great delight in pointing out when rules and regulations violated Enlo's guidance. M'kar despised much of regulations and laws and traditions. The same people who had used traditions to try to end her life before she was born now employed traditions and prophecy to use her for political gain.

  Thyal, are you --

  I'm sorry. I was checking an unpleasant stream of psionic energy. Not focused on you. At least, not yet.

  No. That is the last thing I need. Please tell me you were wrong?

  M'kar ran and silently begged Enlo there would be no one in her way, no one to slow her. Specifically, no Nisandrian spies and lackies on this station, who might recognize her and try to stop her from reaching the sanctuary of the Defender.

  I'm sorry.

  Wretched timing. But you felt them, and that's some advance warning. She glanced at her locator bracelet. It should buzz at any moment, with a warning from someone on the Defender. The longer it took for the Defender to register the approach of the bane of her existence, the more time she had to duck into the only real haven she had.

  We can't decipher the data wafer while you're in cold sleep.

  We can't talk while I’m in cold sleep, either. I'm sorry.

  Never apologize, lupi. I travel the universe with you, and it helps me forget I am little more than a talking head.

  M'kar grinned, relieved by this proof he was in a good mood. Thyal only called her lupi, the string on a candy ball that kept children from swallowing it whole, when his spirits were up, or he felt she needed some teasing.

  Besides, the nickname was better than the one her father used for her. Someday, her friends would discover what mi’sho’ki meant, and she would have to kill them. Dignity demanded it, and she did have to live up to the Nisandrian reputation of intermittent lunacy.