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“Do you have human genes?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have more human genes than
genta
ones?” Becca
leaned forward, but Da’shay was already shaking her head.

“No.”

“Do you love Tom?”

Tom snorted so hard in his surprise that he got spit going
the wrong way up his nose and had to rub the sting away.

“Yep,” Da’shay agreed. “Warm brown spinning in circles.” She
smiled at him and leaned into his arm, her fingers curling around him.

“That ain’t funny,” Tom said with a glare for Becca.

“Nope. I think it’s real cute. Don’t you, Captain?” Becca
asked with a smile for Ramsay.

Ramsay crossed his arms. “I might if Tom weren’t wearing new
slave cuffs that I know he didn’t have on last night.”

“Oh.” Becca’s mouth drew up into a pucker.

“You haven’t figured out the right question yet. Keep asking
her on genetics,” Tom said before someone could start lecturing.

She sighed. “Um, do you have something other than
genta
and human genes?”

“Yes.” Da’shay tightened her hold on Tom’s arm until he
winced and then she let loose some.

“You do?” Becca looked confused. “Okay, so you do have
something. Oh please tell me it’s not
meaiai
.” She wrinkled her nose,
but then most humans did when they thought about those aliens.

“No.” Da’shay laughed. “Would make a bad spider. Not enough
crazy.” She tapped her head and Tom noticed that even Ramsay had to smile at
that.

“Well that just don’t make any sense,” Becca leaned back and
crossed her arms. “You’re not
casslit
or
meaiai
, but you’re
something other than
genta
or human?”

“Yep.”

“Something sentient?”

“Yep. Thinking, self aware, totally and completely fucking
crazy people.” Da’shay said it proudly, looking from Tom to Becca and then
looking around the room to take in Eli and Ramsay. Tom was fairly sure from the
blank stares and open mouths that everyone felt the same way he did.

“Your completely crazy people are some new alien?” Tom
asked, and while he hadn’t prayed in a while, he was praying she was about to
call him stupid for even thinking that.

Instead she looked at him, her head tilted as she tried to
figure something out. “Yep,” she agreed.

“Aw, fuck.” Ramsay’s curse pretty much said it all.

“Protocol says this is a priority message. We should send
off a burst,” Eli said. Tom didn’t even bother pointing out that doing anything
that stupid was like putting out a bright red flag that said, “Spy ship here.”
He couldn’t figure out if Eli was trying to get them killed or if the man was
so in love with his rules that he didn’t stop to think things through. Da’shay
sat quietly, her fingers stroking up and down his arm and Tom’s cock was
starting to think on sex, even if most of his better sense was thinking on how
screwed they were.

“And tell them what, exactly?” Ramsay asked. “Our crazy
genta
says there’s a new alien species, but she can’t exactly talk about it because
parts of her brain are gone? We don’t know anything and I’m starting to find it
mildly irritating how everyone is suddenly believing Da’shay.”

“She’s not making it up,” Tom said firmly. “Her having some
sort of ability to read us means that her story is about the only thing that
makes sense.”

“Tom…” Ramsay sighed and leaned back. “This isn’t the time
to debate sense. We’re looking at a war starting and we’re on the wrong side of
the lines. From the looks of it, the dock isn’t going to kick us loose any time
soon, either. Could be we should focus on that.”

“It just don’t make sense, Captain,” Becca said quietly. “I
know engineering focuses more on the ships and tech than the people, but you’ve
been to officer training. Does a
genta
go around blowing people up?”

“Explosions don’t fit their psychology,” Eli said. “I just
finished a class on
genta
aesthetics in art and everything in the
genta
world is about control.”

“Aesthetics?” Ramsay looked up with a sort of horror on his
face. “Thank the stars that I got my rank during war when it was more important
that you knew how to blow shit up.”

“Aesthetics?” Tom asked. That wasn’t a word he’d run across
before.

Eli nodded. “Art, music, architecture…what they find
attractive and desirable.”

“Art?” Tom asked, not sure if he’d heard that right because
it seemed like a mighty stupid thing to study. If being an officer meant
studying art, he’d been right to avoid the whole hassle.

Ramsay gave an amused snort when he saw Tom’s expression. “I
think officer school just might have to drop that requirement if we’re going to
war. Fuck.” Ramsay slapped his hands against the nav table and then flew out of
his seat. He ended up standing near the quantum readouts and he stared at their
blank screens. “If that school is telling you that
genta
don’t kill,
they’re more stupid than I ever suspected.”

“Of course they kill.” Eli sounded defensive. “But they
admire a sharpshooter who can place a bullet in exactly the right place.
They’ll garrote someone or admire very precise knife work. Explosions are messy
and unpredictable and the definition of uncontrolled. Hou wouldn’t send a bomb.
He’d hire sharpshooters and then demand proof that each target was killed by a single
bullet through the eye. That’s the sort of assassination a
genta
would
appreciate. But sir, Command has to know there could be a new alien species. If
they come flying in and then find out there’s an alien presence—”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ramsay whirled around, and
if Tom liked Eli enough to care, he would have warned the man that Ramsay was
not in any mood to have his orders questioned. “We don’t know anything.”

Normally Eli was quiet enough that he didn’t really make
much of an impression. He was passably good with a gun and had a talent for
staying alive, so Tom had some respect for him, but more than that, he’d never
been one to try to push his opinions on others. But now Eli stepped forward,
his back so straight that his neatly tailored clothes made him look as if he
were modeling them.

“We know enough, sir. We’ve seen a piece of tech that
probably came from them, and the aesthetics of that recording device could
provide insights on their beliefs. We’ve seen an image, and that gives us cause
to think they might be related to the
casslit
in some way. There’s a
similar body structure. Hell, we might have been looking at some
genta
-bred
hybrid of a
casslit
. And if we believe Da’shay, we know they have an
alternative communication structure, something that allows them to read us in
some way. I think that’s enough to send a burst to Command. If you don’t agree,
you could leave the
Kratos
, take shelter somewhere else and I could send
the burst.” Eli clenched his jaw until it bulged and stood so stiffly that Tom
expected him to start saluting. Becca was holding her breath and Ramsay…he just
looked tired.

Tom glanced down at where Da’shay had seated herself. She
was working the communications and he frowned, wondering if she was sending the
burst. If she did, they’d never get out of the
Kratos
without getting
captured and there wouldn’t be any rescue coming, not if Command was preparing
for war.

Tom edged closer and angled his body so that he was blocking
some of what she was doing. If this new species was dangerous enough that she’d
give up her life to warn Command, he could respect that. She paused and looked
up at him with a small smile before tracing a finger down his arm to his slave
cuff. If they were looking at capture, Tom hoped she’d end it quick for him. He
was having trouble enough dealing with the sort of slavery Da’shay offered him
and he was well aware that she wasn’t really treating him like a slave.

If the ship was captured, the others might be prisoners of
war, but Tom would be a piece of property to be sold off along with the ship
and any property that came off. He couldn’t deal with that. He couldn’t go back
to living when there wasn’t a soul who looked at him as anything other than a
tool to be used or beaten. He’d decided at seventeen that dying was better than
that.

“So, you’re ready to commit suicide based on what Da’shay
says?” Ramsay asked. “Does anyone else here remember that she’s a survivor of
slavery? We don’t know how long she was in those slave pens or what happened to
her before a Command ship found her.” Ramsay focused on Eli. “You’re telling us
that
genta
are about control, so tell me, how would a
genta
react
to being treated like a thing—like a cow that a farmer gets the milk out of
before taking it out to shoot it for the meat? How would that fit into a
genta
’
s
aesthetic? How sane would she end up?”

Ramsay turned toward Tom so fast that Tom tensed up, his
fight instincts on high. “And assume you’re right, Tom. You’re saying that she
can ‘read’ us, tell what we’re thinking or feeling. If that’s true, what would
it do to her to be trapped in the middle of a hundred slaves, every one of them
feeling desperate and trapped? If she can taste emotion, how much pain and fear
would it take to drive her insane?”

Tom stared back. The fact was that he didn’t know if she was
sane, but then he’d had doubts about himself and Ramsay for a long time and
that had never stopped him from getting the job done.

“What’s she doing?” Ramsay asked as he noticed Da’shay in
his seat.

“Don’t know,” Tom answered honestly. He also avoided looking
down so he wouldn’t have to know. If she was sending the burst, that meant she
knew something and it had to be done. Becca turned her chair toward them, but
Tom didn’t move and that meant she couldn’t see either.

“Tom,” Ramsay warned. Tom looked at the captain. If he was
going to burn a bridge after serving the man for six years, he was going to
burn it good. Otherwise he would just want to come back to the
Kratos
because this was the first home he’d found in twenty years. But he knew Ramsay
was wrong. He knew it and he didn’t have the words to explain it any more than
Da’shay did.

Ramsay strode across the small room in three steps and
looked down as Da’shay finished whatever she’d done and wiped the display.
“What did you do?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “Pinch and pull the cat’s cradle until
the string makes candles.”

“Candles?” Ramsay looked down at her as if she’d lost her
mind.

“Candles…it’s one of the shapes you make with the string if
you’re doing it right,” Tom explained.

Ramsay sighed. He pushed on Da’shay’s shoulder and she let
herself be shoved out of the chair. A few commands and the display lit up
again. Ramsay frowned as he studied the settings. “She sent a communication.”

“To Command?” Eli asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

Ramsay swiveled the chair around and started at Da’shay. “To
Hou.” Tom looked at Da’shay in surprise. That didn’t seem to make sense.
“Becca, get in here and tell me what she sent him.” Ramsay got up from his
chair and looked from Da’shay to Tom.

“She’s got to have a reason,” Tom said firmly even though
this surprised him just as much as anyone. “Cat’s cradle is her way of saying
things are confusing, but she’s trying to make a pattern.”

“So, you’re standing by her?”

Tom could feel Ramsay’s anger, but the captain had been
right about one thing—Tom wasn’t good at changing direction once he’d picked a
course. “Yep,” he agreed. “Six years I followed you, Captain, and I ain’t
looking for us to end as enemies, but as crazy as some of your plans were, I
always felt you were leading somewhere and I followed. Now you ain’t leading
anywhere, sir. You’re just as tangled up as the rest of us and Da’shay’s got
something in her head to get us free of this mess. Besides, from everything
that’s been said in this room, something ain’t right. If there’s even a slim
chance to stop a war, I’ll take it. “

“And if she gets you killed?”

Tom shrugged. “I thought you were going to do that years
ago. It never kept me from following your orders.”

For some reason, that seemed to stop Ramsay. He stared at
Tom as if he’d just seen a
meaiai
in front of his face or something.
Da’shay caught Tom’s arm and pressed herself to his side.

“Captain,” Becca said softly, “she sent the decoded
broadcast.”

“Well, shit.” Ramsay pressed his lips together into a thin
line. “And you’re telling me to my face you’d take her orders over mine?”
Ramsay demanded as he stared at Tom. The danger filled the room like smoke and
Tom had to fight not to put his hand to his gun.

“Yep,” Tom agreed. Da’shay moved behind him and caught Tom’s
gun hand, clinging to it, so Tom was guessing she didn’t want him to shoot
Ramsay, not even if the captain decided to shoot him as a traitor. A year ago,
Tom wouldn’t have worried about Ramsay turning on him, but now he figured the
captain had it in him.

Ramsay looked around the room. “I want to make this very
clear. As far as I’m concerned, we’re under a war order from this point on.
Justice and discipline will not wait for us to get back to dock and disobeying
a direct order is treason, punishable by death. Is that absolutely clear?”

Ramsay looked at Eli and then Becca, getting a soft, “Yes
sir” from each before he turned to Tom. Tom’s stomach was knotted and Da’shay
was holding his gun hand hard enough that the fingers were starting to go numb.
“If I give you a direct order, are you going to follow my orders or Da’shay?”
Ramsay didn’t look much like himself. He had a hard edge to him.

“Da’shay,” Tom answered.

Ramsay clenched his teeth and looked down for a second and
Tom figured the man was trying to harness his temper.

“Then you get off this ship before you do something that
gets you killed, Tom,” Ramsay said without looking up. “Sergeant Antelli,
escort the corporal and pilot to their quarters to collect their personal gear.
I want everything searched. Nothing that compromises our cover leaves the
Kratos
;
they’ve already done us enough damage.”

Tom didn’t bother looking to see if Eli would follow
orders—he would. Tom turned toward the exit, but he had to wait because Da’shay
didn’t seem as anxious to leave as he did.

“Spinning teal, muddy gray,” she said seriously as she
looked at Ramsay.

He sighed. “Tom, I almost hope you’re right. But if you’re
not, you just cost Command any advantage they might have had in the attack.
That transmission from Command was so encoded it took Eli six hours to untangle
and we have Command codes and equipment. They think they have a communication
shutdown and you went and put a hole in that curtain. I’d suggest you two stick
to the slave colonies unless you want to face treason charges.”

Tom didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything left to say. It
wasn’t as if Ramsay was the first to decide that Tom made too many mistakes to
bother sticking up for him.

Da’shay finally turned and headed back toward her quarters
and Tom followed so close that the loop of the leash hung nearly to the ground.
Eli followed behind and Tom wondered where he was going to end up if he kept
following her. He doubted she could explain and he doubted he’d understand the
politics of aliens well enough to understand if she tried. All he could do was
cover her back and hope she saw some way clear of this mess.