“It’s all interesting,” Velda admitted. “The Cores are way ahead of us on this. I can’t believe an organization that’s been playing hide and seek with the VSC military for a year has managed to do as much as it has.”
“They’ve obviously planted moles throughout the Verdant String, not to mention cozying up to the Caruso.” Ethan suddenly went stiff. “They’re coming.”
Velda listened, heard footsteps outside. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax as the door opened and the light came on.
She lifted her head, blinking, and Ritter, with a guard on either side of him, frowned at the sight of them, then looked up at the lens.
“False alarm,” he said to someone out of sight in the passageway. “Just a short-circuit.”
They switched it out, and she and Ethan lay back down.
“At least you know you can, now,” she whispered to him. “And we had a conversation without anyone listening in.”
“It’s a start,” he agreed.
And for the first time in two days, she felt hopeful.
There was something happening.
Ethan was dozing, lying with Velda in his arms, when he heard the distinct thunk of an intership connection.
“We’ve got visitors,” Velda murmured, and his eyes opened to see her gazing up to the left, in the direction the thunk had come from.
“The Caruso?” he wondered. “Brink said they were heading off to meet them and hand over the ore from the mine.”
“I can’t believe they’re this stupid,” Velda whispered.
Ethan could only agree. What he’d received in terms of intelligence over the last couple of years all showed a clear pattern.
The Caruso were pushing into the Verdant String, eyeing the resources of their planets, and chafing under the assumption that the VSC was the powerhouse of the galaxy.
The Caruso wanted to be the leaders.
They’d made loose connections with the Hathr to try and mimic the Coalition, but that was never going to work between two such aggressive, war-like groups.
The Caruso and the Hathr also didn’t have the common ancestry of the Verdant String, the one thread that kept all seven planets together.
And with every encounter in recent times, the Caruso had shown again and again they’d go back on their word, lie, and steal, in every dealing with the VSC. Even with their supposed allies, the Cores, they’d reneged on their deals.
The Cores had plotted with the Caruso on Garmen and Lassa, and the Caruso had turned around and betrayed them.
And yet, here the Cores were—about to deal with the Caruso again.
Someone in the Cores still thought they’d come out the winner, and Ethan couldn’t understand why.
He got off the bench, stretching, and Velda put a hand in the middle of his back. He didn’t move for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest at just the thought of what he’d be doing to her if they weren’t being watched.
She must have gotten up on her knees, because she slid her hand upward, to rest at the top of his spine, and then her lips brushed his shoulder before she got off the bed herself and went to shower.
She liked to shower, he’d noticed. He had refused to watch her, because there was only so much torture he could put himself through, but he was aware of her splashing around in there.
When she stepped out, damp and flushed, he went in himself, gave himself a nice cold blast to keep himself sharp and his mind on the Caruso, rather than on Velda.
He was just finished when Velda leaned in, and her expression was grim.
“I think there may have been a hostile takeover.”
He switched off the tap and dressed without bothering to dry himself down.
