Oren leaned forward, his forearms resting on the rickety table. “That’s a very good question, and one I don’t know the answer to.”
Oren entered the code Gark had given him into the display on the front of the packet, then pulled out the data drive. He tapped it against a tablet he pulled from a pocket in his jacket and grunted as he flipped through images and pages of writing.
“If that’s everything, I’ll be leaving,” Gark said as he pushed to stand.
Oren waved a hand, gesturing for him to sit. “Not just yet. You see this?” Oren pushed his tablet across the table.
Gark sat back down but didn’t look at the tablet. “What do you want?”
Oren smiled grimly. “Look.”
Gark looked at the tablet, his curiosity getting the better of him—maps, plans, and transcripts of comms. Gark frowned as he read. Surely this couldn’t be right?
“These are comms between someone in the Taurean military and the Alliance.” He looked up at Oren in shock. “Why did you show me this?”
He had expected to hand over the goods, receive the chip with his credits, and then leave. Usually, meetings like this lasted no longer than a few minutes, if that. Most of his clientswere keen to get well away from him after he’d served his purpose…until the next time they needed his services, of course.
Oren picked up his beer bottle, spinning it between his hands. “We’ve been tracking certain people in the military for a while. This particular officer, and yes, it’s an officer, has been slippery.” He snorted, shaking his head. “It’s hard to know who to trust these days.” He placed the beer bottle on the table. “So I understand if you feel trepidation, but if you think of anything that could help me set things right, I would be very appreciative.” He leaned forward a little, eyes intense. He nodded as if satisfied with something. “Be careful who you trust, commander.”
Gark stiffened at the use of the title that had been stripped from him. His eyes narrowed as he watched Oren pull the tablet back toward him and tuck it in his pocket.
Should he tell Oren about A’Kar? Gark wasn’t sure. He needed to think about this. The information he’d collected for Oren changed everything. The Alliance and an officer of the Taurean military in allegiance? It didn’t make sense.
Oren tapped the table with his fingers. “I’ll be in touch.”
Gark watched with a confused frown as Oren left the bar. He shook his head. This is why he didn’t get involved. He didn’t have time for Taureans who played in the shadows.
Gark was on his way back to The Lady when his wrist comm beeped. He stepped to one side of the busy thoroughfare to answer the call. Checking the screen, he saw it was from his ship.
Vox’s voice reached him through the comm. “A’Kar escaped.”
“What?” Gark straightened, looking around him as if he could spot the errant security officer. Ex-security officer.
“Klath went to check on him, and he stabbed him.”
Gark froze. “Is he all right?”
“He’s shaken up, but ok. It’s a good thing Arik was a combat medic, otherwise we’d have to take Klath to the station medical center and he would have hated that.”
Gark nodded, even though Vox couldn’t see him over a wrist comm. Klath was the worst patient, despite being an excellent medic himself.
Gark ran a hand over his face. It wasn’t the best news, but he’d alert the station’s security office and check back in on The Lady?—
“He took Aletta.”
Gark froze. “What?”
“A’Kar grabbed Aletta. He took her.” Vox started blabbing. “Nobody saw it, and he stole Klath’s comm. The ship’s AI was down because Arik was working on upgrades?—"
“Where did he take her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He choked out the words, his hand gripping his hair and tugging. Where was she? What had A’Kar done with her? Why? He dropped to his knees, heedless of the onlookers who moved around him like river water around an unmovable boulder.
He paid no more attention to the people in the busy thoroughfare, the sounds of the hawkers selling their wares, and the chatter of voices faded from his notice.
Gark’s hands fell to his thighs as his head drooped. The strap of his wrist comm pressed against his leg.
