"You always were perceptive, Nixxy. Never one to miss much."
Kira checked on Graydon, finding him closer than she'd left him.
"I always told myself that if I ever saw you again, I'd give you the truth of what happened that day," Diesel said.
Something tugged at Kira's senses. A whisper of metallic ice and acidic rain.
Tsavitee taint.
"What truth is that?" Kira asked, feeling almost numb.
"Rothchild's truth. My truth."
Everything in Kira stilled as his meaning came clear. She shook her head in immediate rejection. "No."
"God as my witness, Kira, I didn't mean to," Diesel whispered in a tormented voice.
Kira held up a hand, stopping Graydon. "Why?"
"You remember how the XO liked to ride our asses about wasting supplies? It was wartime and he had his panties in a twist over the amount of munitions we used."
Kira blinked.
"What were we supposed to do? Go without? During battle? We would have lost. The Curs would have died if they had to worry about conserving ammo in critical moments." Diesel calmed, the bitterness vanishing. "A woman approached me. It seemed like she was the answer to my prayers. I could supplement our stock pile. Make sure we had what we needed."
"I'm assuming she wanted something in exchange."
And that he gave it to her.
Seeing her expression, Diesel shot her a censorious look. "Not that, Kira. I was looking for a shortcut, but I wouldn't have betrayed you for it."
"Except, from your own words, you obviously did."
"Not the way you think.” His smile was sad. "It was the munitions. They were tagged with a tracking device. I didn't find out until the day before the attack."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Kira scanned their surroundings, realizing how isolated it was. There was no one around except for his people. Well hidden in the tree line but still detectable.
Her laugh was ugly. "This is a trap."
Color leached from her skin, gray replacing it. Runes formed on her face and arms, their lines infused with a violet glow that matched the one in her eyes.
Kira smiled, her primus washing away the sting of betrayal as it bared sharp teeth meant for ripping flesh. "You should have brought more people. What you have isn't going to be enough."
Twenty One
Before Kira could make a move, a Tsavitee landed on the monument's nose cone. Metal flexed under its weight as it lifted its nose to the wind.
Kira let the primus slip back below the surface as she backed away. "Tracker class."
The Tsavitee whipped its head in her direction, fixing eyes that science insisted were fully blind on her. Beady and black, they had a slight shine to them. As if the outer lens was made of mercury.
So named for their tendency to hunt prey over vast distances—including across space—trackers were worse than a bloodhound on a scent.
Kira had dealt with them before. Mostly in the years after the war.
She'd gotten good at evading them, but it looked like she'd failed this time.
