Local Star, Aimee Ogden [ebook reader that looks like a book txt] 📗

capabilities, as Belas had said. Justice fried their nanobots with a fixative pulse when they were captured.

“I’ll be down at the wallport if you need me,” Belas said, and Triz jerked her attention back to him. “Hurry. I don’t know how soon Counsel will get back.”

“Thank you.” Triz tried to put all her gratitude into those words, but they broke apart under the weight. She slid into the chair he left for her and looked up into Casne’s face. Only the barrier of the cell lay between them; it shimmered in the same shade of dismal gray as the floor, the cots, the walls; even, it seemed, the wan lighting. Weary lines carved their way between Casne’s brows and around the corners of her mouth. Triz wanted to reach through the barrier and smooth them out, to reshape Casne’s mask of exhaustion into one of quiet, tranquil slumber.

Triz swallowed hard. “Hi, Cas.”

“They told me I wasn’t allowed to see anyone.” Casne’s voice came out thick as day-old algae starter. But that wasn’t true, was it? Hadn’t Lanniq just been here? Who else would he have needed to speak to but Casne? But before Triz could press her on that, Casne went on the offensive. “What did you do to get in here, Triz?”

“Nothing!” Triz changed the subject before Casne could worm the lie out of her. “I wanted to see if you needed anything, or if you—if there was anything I could do.”

“I’m all right.” An instinctual response. Casne’s mouth tightened. “They won’t let me talk to Nantha, either.”

“I just spoke with her a little while ago. She’s all right.” A look of bleak understanding passed between them. “Your quad sends their love too.” That, at least, bought an unqualified smile from Casne. Too bad it wasn’t the unqualified truth. “Casne, what’s going on? Nothing I saw on the port makes any sense.”

The gates of Casne’s face slammed shut. Her expression might as well have been cut from steel for all the give in it. That wasn’t the Casne Triz knew, but that fit the pattern of the past day. “I don’t think I’m allowed to talk to you about that, Triz, not with an ongoing investigation. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know what I did at Golros and I stand by it. And that’s all I can say to you, really.”

“Sure. Fleet business. I understand.” Triz didn’t understand at all. “How long until your . . . trial?” Just saying the word out loud hurt.

“I have to face trifold Justice,” said Casne, a little tiredly. “A Fleet tribune, another from the Watch, and someone the civilian court at Centerpoint will send. They’ll take a week to get here, or so I’m told.”

“A civilian tribune?” Triz shook her head but didn’t manage to shake off her confusion. “Why wait? We have six of those here on Vivik.”

Casne’s shoulders dropped a few centimeters. “Only one with enough experience markers to hear a war crimes trial. And he had to recuse himself for reasons of partiality.”

“Oh. Oh.” Of course Quelian couldn’t hear Casne’s case. Triz’s arms wrapped around herself. It was good Quelian was required to recuse himself; less good that any concerns of partiality might not go the way Casne thought. Casne had been far away for most of the anger her departure had provoked, and Triz had never been entirely sure how much of Quelian’s disappointment bled through port calls and family messages. She’d be damned if Casne had to weather Quelian’s disdain now, with all the rest of the meteor shower currently pelting her. “Is there anything I can bring you? Or do?”

“Prove the evidence was faked, figure out who did it.” A humorless smile pinched Casne’s lips. “Maybe get me a promotion for my troubles?”

“Oh, is that all.” Triz’s throat dried up, and she forced a smile. Fleet rules be damned, Casne put her confidence and her trust in Triz. “Failing that, I could try to smuggle you in some of your damu’s biscuits. Belas likes me—by which I mean, he likes you. I bet he’d let me.”

“Just ask around. There were dozens of Swarmers attached to the Dailos alone, array techs on the other whales. Everyone’s got eyes.”

“Give me something to go on,” Triz begged. “Who you think is behind it! Or why it’s happening.”

“I can’t, Triz. Really. I already said that.”

Triz’s hands twisted in her lap. “You can’t tell me anything. But did you tell Lanniq while he was here?”

Casne’s stone-smooth expression creased into a frown. “What? When?”

“Ah! If it isn’t the Hero of Golros,” a new, sickly voice said.

Triz jumped. Casne looked past Triz’s shoulder and her eyes narrowed.

The man they both feared was being marched down the corridor between two guards. Triz felt her shoulders tense into iron knots. Rocan.

He felt for his cot, then took a seat and smiled at Triz, who blanched at the sight of him. She knew that face, even with both eyes replaced by hollow sockets. He’d ported a video when he put out his own eyes and replaced them with optimized electronic replacements. Unlike most of the rest of her creche class, Triz had never watched it and never wanted to. “Perhaps when they forge the medal of honor, they’ll weld a pair of restraints on directly, just to save some time and effort.”

Triz’s mouth worked soundlessly a few times. She managed to sputter: “What is—what is he doing here?” Of all the people Casne could be imprisoned with, why did it have to be Rocan Dustald-3 Melviq, the very man whose movement Casne and the Fleet had worked to annihilate over the past months? No one had more of a reason to punish Casne—and now, no one had a better chance of access to her. Triz’s hands flexed at her sides. “You shouldn’t be locked up in here with monsters like him. They couldn’t hold you on one of the whaleships instead?”

“Indeed! It’s frankly barbaric that a visiting head of state should have to suffer