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cast out from the Confederation and ruling now in her own private hell. She
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did, indeed, possess that torturous beauty of which Paladin had so often
spoke, and Blair found himself drawn to the forest in her eyes and the
mysteries coiled through her black, shoulder-length hair. Aristee carried
herself with a rhythm that seemed at once primordial and musical, though in no
way did it appear forced. Full, round breasts tented up her robe, with more
than a hint of cleavage forming a warm home at her V-neck. She stood tall on
firm legs, the calves smooth and well-defined, and her small feet with
toenails painted white fit perfectly in her leather sandals. Blair amused
himself by speculating on her undergarments or lack thereof before he noticed
another man coming forward, a man he immediately recognized, though he had
first seen as part of the continuum, part of something universal, elemental,
and baffling.
Frotur Johan McDaniel regarded Blair with warm recognition. "Brotur
Christopher." Then he eyed Paladin with a slight though detectable sneer. "And
Brotur James. I never thought we'd meet again."
"For a Pilgrim with a perfect sense of direction, you seem to keep crossing
my path," the commodore said coldly.
"Oh, but that's not my will. It's destiny tugging on your elbow. You've lived
in denial long enough, haven't you?"
"All right, gentlemen," Aristee interjected. "We'll finish the debate later."
With several rapid keystrokes on the cell's control panel, she opened the
door. "Let's go."
Blair noticed how Aristee and Paladin would not look at each other. He had
expected an awkward moment between them, a moment in which they painfully
uttered each other's names followed by mawkish cliches like "It's been a long
time."
"Whoa. Where are you going?" Maniac asked as they stepped into the corridor.
"Hey, you leave me here, you're gonna have a major problem on your hands."
"Lieutenant," Paladin snapped, then added a glare to silence Maniac. The
reprimand worked.
"I understand he's a friend," Aristee said, though she barely met Paladin's
gaze.
"No, he's not."
"Sir?" Maniac cried.
"He's a good friend and one of most aggressive junior pilots in the fleet,"
the commodore added. "But he's still a human. I suggest you jettison him
ASAP."
Blair turned to Paladin, mouth agape both eyes bulging.
"James, you know why I let him live," Aristee began. "Don't insult my
intelligence again. You're not here to defect, and you don't want me to kill
him. You're here to talk me into surrendering, but Ivar Chu himself couldn't
do that now."
"At least hear me out," Paladin said.
"Oh, I will. We'll have plenty of time to talk. But first I want to show you
something." She suddenly turned to Blair, scrutinized him for a second, then
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blurted out, "You look like your mother."
"Did you know her, ma'am?"
"I knew of her. I was pretty young back then and was only visiting Peron. I
remember everyone being jealous of her good looks. Then when she married your
father, that jealousy turned to hate." She moved away. "So it goes."
They followed her toward the hatch at the far end of the corridor, with Johan
McDaniel bringing up the rear. "Broturs James and Christopher, many people
scarified their lives for what you're about to witness. We shall honor them by
remaining silent until we arrive," the frotur instructed.
Paladin looked askance at Blair and made a face. Blair nodded as the two
Marines joined them at the hatch.
"Bring back some food," Maniac shouted.
Amity led them down several decks, toward the supercruiser's stern. They
passed several torpedo launch bays, pilots' quarters, environmental controls,
and a long storage area fenced off by polymeric bars. Crew members snapped to
as they neared them, bowing instead of saluting.
It took all of fifteen minutes for them to reach the engineering deck. Two
more Pilgrim Marines stood guard outside the oval-shaped hatch. As they drew
near, one of the guards briskly keyed open the door. The drone of cooling
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