console began picking up transmissions between League ships, however, and I saw myself listening to them, and then attempting to signal first the Jorenians, and then the League command vessel.
No one would respond to my relays. My transceiver had been partially damaged; all I could do was listen.
The Rilkens’ viewer displayed the CloudWalk as it fired on an approaching transport—a drone transport, according to the signals I’d overheard—programmed to provoke the Jorenians into an attack. I watched myself change tactics and try to send a signal to the Jorenians.
There are no living beings on that launch, I shouted. They are trying to provoke you into an attack. Cease fire.
All I heard in return was a satisfied male voice issuing an order to respond and destroy the CloudWalk .
ClanLeader Teulon, listen to me, I pleaded. You have to stop this right now. It’s nothing but a ruse. My husband and my daughter are on your ship. Shropana knows that. He’s doing this to get to them. To get back at me. Listen to me, please.
League ships began swarming around the Jado vessel. The viewer glowed brighter and brighter as explosions of pulse fire burst all around me.
No, please, Teulon. You have to cease fire. There are too many of them. Cease fire, for God’s sake—
I saw but didn’t see the League soldier rise up behind me. I kept sending my frantic transmissions until the viewer filled with white light, and the CloudWalk ’s stardrive imploded.
The light blinded me just as the soldier clubbed me in the head.
I regained consciousness on what I assumed was the cargo compartment on the League transport. My head ached, and the restraints they’d put me in were cutting off the circulation to my hands and feet, but I was alive. They’d posted a heavily armed humanoid male as my guard; he was a canine species with narrow black eyes, a prominent muzzle, and brown-pelted skin. He wore combat-fitted body armor and looked as if he’d enjoy shooting me.
I knew Reever and Marel were not dead, but the part of me reliving this experience didn’t. I couldn’t breach the distance between our minds, and reassure myself. I could only feel the rage building again.
The Jorenians will come for you. Do you know what they do to anyone who harms their kin?
Keep your orifice shut. He had a magnificent set of sharp denticles. Or I will gag you.
I didn’t know what he had been ordered to do, but I could guess. The hostility in his black eyes made his threats into promises. If I pushed hard enough, he might lose control and do more, perhaps even execute me early. Which was fine with me. I didn’t want to live anymore, not without my family.
Your commander just wiped out an entire HouseClan, I told him. Since there are no Jado left now, the Jorenian Ruling Council will designate the dead as ClanJoren. Do you know what that means, murderer?
He came up to me and backhanded me. I have not killed anyone. Be silent.
It doesn’t matter. Every HouseClan on the planet will be coming for your commander. Your fleet. I spit out some blood onto the front of his chest plate. And you.
Let them come. They may join their kin in death. He didn’t sound quite as ferocious now.
They won’t be coming alone, I promised. While you and the Hsktskt have been playing war games, the Jorenians have been forming their own coalition with other neutral species. The treaties have included pacts of mutual protection against the League and the Faction. This massacre will not go unanswered. They’ll call on their new allies as well as their old friends, most of whom have just been waiting for any decent excuse to move against the League. They’ll disable your fleet. Then the Jorenians will board the ships and declare the crews ClanKill. I leaned forward, straining against the restraints. They’ll hold them down, one by one, and use their claws to eviscerate them alive.
He took an involuntary step back. How could you know any of this? You are a fugitive from
Carol Wallace, Bill Wallance