I spied a familiar face in the crowd – Nichols, the young recruit who’d been on that first mission to recover the cargo. He spotted me and came galloping over. Or rather, he’d spotted Kade, not me.
“Hey, I heard you totally kicked ass on that mission to Adavi,” he gushed at Kade, and I blinked. How had a new recruit got wind of an official mission report? “Can I see you change colour?” he rushed on, quivering with enthusiasm. “Vosh said it wassocool.”
Ah, that explained it. If he and Vosh were friends, then he’d likely heard all the gossip – all of it that wasn’t classified information, that was.
“I’m certainly not a fan of keeping ourselves isolated,” I said to Bryce, ignoring Nichols’ request, and knowing that Kade would follow my lead. “But the Parliament tends to keep a lot of information under wraps, until after they’ve made a decision. I think people would benefit from being allowed to consider the facts themselves, even while the Parliament is still debating the issues.”
“Fair point,” Bryce conceded. “But either way, I think the Nwandu will benefit us in the end. And not just because of their technology. They’re an old species. Older than humans. Older than the Denzogals, even. They’ve seen a lot of the shit that goes down in different sectors of the galaxy. And they’ve still managed to come out of that valuing democracy and freedom and cooperation. We could learn from that.”
“But if they’re an old species, why haven’t they formed alliances with anyone else before now?” Nichols asked.
That stumped all of us. “Maybe they’re very picky about finding someone whose values match their own?” Bryce suggested. “Maybe they didn’t want to bother with us until we were big enough to be useful to them. And as self-seeking as that might sound, there is a certain pragmatism to it.”
I checked the time and grimaced. “As much fun as this is, I’ve got one last report to finish before we head home for the week. Good to see you back in action, though,” I said to Bryce. “I’ll catch up with you in a week’s time.”
It was nearly five o’clock when Kade and I were heading through the canteen towards the train station. But before we’d got halfway across the room, my comm pinged; a message from Henderson.
I need to see you in my office. Come alone.
That sounded ominous. “Never a moment’s peace,” I muttered. “Sorry, Kade, I gotta go see Henderson for a minute. You can get something to eat, if you’re hungry.” He nodded, and I jogged off towards Henderson’s office.
When I arrived, Henderson was sitting at his desk, hands folded in front of him. “Close the door,” he said. I did and sat down.
“This looks serious,” I said. A cold weight was settling in my gut, though I couldn’t imagine what was wrong. The mission had been a success. Kade had performed even better than expected. Associate Nors had seemed pleased with us, a little harmless flirting aside.
“It is,” Henderson said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news. And while I firmly disagree with this decision, it is ultimately well above my pay grade.” His ears twitched and he rubbed his furry moustache. “In an entirely unprecedented move, the Eumadians have filed a complaint with the Rendol Parliament about the Alliance helping themselves to lost Eumadian cargo. They’ve finally woken up to the fact that they’re dropping significant amounts of wealth on Rendol 4, and…” He paused and grimaced. “And one particularly expensive shipment has got their attention.” My gut dropped like a stone. I knew exactly what he was going to say next. “They’re asking that we return Kade to them.”
“That’s… No,” I said, not quite able to comprehend what he was saying. “That’s ridiculous. They’ve never asked for any of the dimari back before. And there have beenhundredsof them. And the Alliance condemns slavery. They can’t just hand Kade back to the species that enslaved him in the first place. And the only reason they keep losing cargo here is because they keep jumping through the Rendol wormhole, no matter how many times we tell them not to. So this is ultimately their fault, not ours.” I was ranting, and I knew it. But there were so many reasons the idea was completely insane! “The Parliament can’t seriously be considering the Eumadians’ request, can they?” But if they weren’t, why would we even be having this conversation?
“According to the Alliance’s own laws, we have to give the Eumadians a fair hearing,” Henderson said. “And that includes allocating a lawyer to them to help them work through the Alliance legal system. I find it hard to believe any panel of judges would vote in the Eumadians’ favour, but there is going to be a hearing. Kade will be required to be present. And he may be required to testify about his experiences with the Eumadians.”
“No.” As if this wasn’t already bad enough. “I can’t tell Kade about this.” I felt sick, to the point that I actually looked around for the nearest bin, lest I needed to throw up into it. “When I first got him, I did all this research on how other people have been trying to care for their dimari, and there was this woman who told her dimari that she wasn’t supposed to be his owner, and a week later, he fucking killed himself! I can’t tell Kade about this!” I was on my feet, shouting at Henderson, raw panic searing through my veins. “I’ve just got to a point where I think he might actually be happy, or at least not totally miserable, or… something! I’m not going to just flush all that down the toilet!”
It was a testament to Henderson’s considerable patience and character that he wasn’t tearing me a new one over the degree of disrespect I was throwing his way. Or maybe he just understood my position all too clearly. He was usually firm, but fair, occasional bad moods aside. “I can’t tell you how to approach this with Kade,” he said softly. “And I’m truly sorry that the Parliament is even considering it. But my hands are tied. And yes, I havehad this conversation with several members of the Rendol Parliament. Right now, it’s like hitting my head against a brick wall.”
“What about Associate Nors?” I asked, grasping at any thread I could come up with. “She was absolutely thrilled with Kade’s performance. Is she just going to stand by and let this happen?” Maybe I should have let Kade go to dinner with her after all. Or, on second thought, no. That would have meant she had a conflict of interests on the issue. Better to keep things professional.
“I’ve sent a message to her office,” Henderson said. “I’m hoping we might be able to call in a favour, given what happened over the last few days. But until she’s finished her tour of Hon, we’ll just have to wait for her response.”
I was honestly surprised that he’d even asked. “You like him, don’t you? Kade, I mean?”
Henderson’s expression became contemplative. “I had my doubts at first. But after that last mission, he sounds absolutely amazing. I read Preswood’s report on him. And this is not to say that I didn’t believe your own description of his abilities, but you have certain biases where Kade is concerned, which Preswood does not. But the fact that he can back up your assessment of him convinced me that Kade is the best thing to happen to the Hon base in a good many years. It would be a tragedy to lose him on a purely professional level, never mind the personal side of things. Not to mention the fact that I abhor anything that gives the slave trade even a suggestion of a foothold. I’m not giving up on this, Hill. But I’m also not going to downplay it. Hopefully, it will play out in our favour, but we’re going to have an uphill battle to get there.”
“He wouldn’t even be of any use to them,” I muttered, devastation setting in. “To the Eumadians, I mean. He’s bonded to me. There’s no way to undo that. It’s not like they could just resell him to someone else.”
“I know,” Henderson said. He sighed. “I’m sorry to drop this on you, right before your time off.”
“No, I needed to know,” I said. “And I’ll… Fuck…” My heart lurched as I considered the consequences of this all over again. “I’ll just have to find a way to explain it to him.” Was that even possible? I dragged a hand through my hair, dreading that conversation.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Henderson said, looking entirely earnest about it. “And I’ll message you the instant I have more news.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, standing up as I recognised the polite dismissal for what it was. “It means a lot that you care. If I don’t hear from you beforehand, then I’ll see you next week.”
Kade was sitting at a table in the canteen when I walked back into the room, and I couldn’t help but smile as I saw Nichols sitting across fromhim. As I watched, Kade switched his colouring to jet black, causing Nichols to gasp and rock back on his chair. So it seemed he’d managed to get his requested demonstration in, after all. Then Kade let the colour fade to indistinct grey, then he flushed with bright purple – as bright as any Solof – and then he transitioned though to a light turquoise, darkened to his natural deep blue, and then back to brown.
Fuck, I’d had no idea what a range of colours he could generate. Once again, someone who’d been talking to him for all of five minutes was finding out more about him than I had in weeks. The stray thought flitted through my head that maybe he’d be better off back with the Eumadians. They, at least, had a decent grasp of who he was, what his skills were, and what was required to look after a dimari without driving them to suicide.
I dismissed the thought the moment after I’d had it. Kade was bonded to me. We’d made significant headway on the issue of his happiness. And if I’d managed to achieve this much in four weeks, then in another three months, I was confident I’d have learned a whole lot more about the dimari in general, and Kade in particular.
