Chapter One

The bar was dark, but Evan’s mood was darker. “It’s still there, isn’t it?”

“It comes and goes,” Alex replied as he stared into his glass of scotch.

“That’s twice this week, after nearly a month without one.”

“Funny thing about migraines,” Alex smiled through tightly pressed lips. “They’re just so damned unpredictable.”

"And before going into that Nebula, you said you rarely had them."

Alex huffed. “There’s nothing I can do, there’s nothing you can do, so what the hell does it matter?”

Evan glared at his Keeper. “Do you really want to go through that again?”

Alex stared pensively into his glass. “Zane says they're not uncommon in our line of work." His eyes were dark in the shadowy bar, and his expression so brooding as to make even a glass of whiskey beg to slink by unnoticed.

Evan was possibly the only person that look had no effect on. “Just because they're common doesn't mean you should be having them.”

Alex laughed and ran a hand over his short, tightly groomed beard. It was a new addition, an expansion of the growth of hair he usually allowed to develop on his lower lip. Evan had applauded the change. It improved his Keeper’s attempts to look dangerous and complimented the muscle he’d built up in the past year.

They’d both changed in the past year, undergoing a slow, inevitable metamorphosis from the adventure-seeking space explorers they had been, to the hunted men they were now. The occasional run-in with a military patrol or bounty hunting party had honed their fighting edge, while frequent visits to stations and moons on trading missions warranted an adjustment in outward appearance.

Evan didn’t see where his look had changed all that much -- he was still a Sha’erah, and could still intimidate the color off a wall if he chose to do so. The combination of black hair, black eyes, black neck and hand tattoos, as well as the silver metal embedded in the palm of his left hand, served him well. He could vanish into a crowd, or part it just as easily.

But now, all he wanted to do was lift his Keeper’s mood. Whenever these headaches hit, Alex was plagued for hours, and there wasn’t anything Evan could do to stop it.

That helplessness was frustrating.

Alex took a deep breath and sat up straight. “Braden will be here in a few minutes.”

That was his cue. It was time to vanish into the darkness of the bar and monitor the exchange. Time to keep an eye on Braden and his men to insure the trader’s transaction with Alex went as smoothly and honestly as it was supposed to.

“Come on, you always say the first time we let our guard down could be the last. I only trust this guy so far.”

“Right.” Evan relented and got up, leaving the booth they’d been sitting in and finding a good spot at the bar. From there he could monitor Alex and watch everyone else coming and going, as well keep an eye on the patrons who’d been sitting and drinking since their arrival an hour ago.

If Braden followed his usual pattern, he’d be ten minutes late, bring two men who stayed near the entrance, have one drink with Alex, then make the trade and leave happy. Braden was a good person. At least, as good as one could expect from a man who’d found a way to capitalize on the current injured state of humanity.

A little over a year ago, the human race had fallen victim to a biological attack -- an attempted extinction-by-force. The attempt was a failure, but still managed to kill a huge number of humans on every populated world. Society as a whole was thrown into chaos, at best. Those who remained mostly resisted the idea of regrouping and rebuilding anything larger than a moon base or large orbital station. Humans were now scattered among the stars, afraid to return to the planets they'd known before, too nervous to settle any of the new ones being found. They were living in clumps and communities, or traveling between them like nomadic orphans. Space itself had become a dangerous place to traverse. Pirates, thieves, and opportunists laid in wait. Military patrols were just as likely to commandeer your ship as offer safe passage, claiming it in the name of their greater good.

No one had found evidence yet of anything great, or good.

Using the Defiant -- a navy ship they’d been forced to steel when Admiral Rickover refused to uphold his bargain -- Alex, Evan and their crew had explored, hunted and searched for the better part of nine months, trying to learn the answers to far too many questions. But it had been a search in vain. They’d found no further evidence of alien sentient life. No sign of the Keeper and Sha'erah they suspected of unleashing the plague, and no answers from the crystal planet they’d discovered.

All they had found during their months of exploration were sources of supplies. Fresh water, food, minerals, things they now used in trade for their own needs. Which was what brought them here tonight, to the mining station Carealis. Denny Braden needed five crates of Molybdenum, and was perfectly willing to trade some very hard-to-find medical supplies for them.

Braden didn’t care that Alex and Evan were wanted men who would bring a hefty military-sponsored reward if turned in. He’d found a niche in the new human condition. Things were different now, and he was one of a rapidly growing minority who liked that just fine.

“Right on time.” Evan watched Braden enter the bar and pause to allow his eyes time to adjust to the dim light. He wasn’t a big man, but walked as if his belly stuck out further than it actually did, and seemed to move with an arthritic tiredness that added ten years to his already white-haired appearance. Bright eyes, clean skin -- a general appearance of health and upbeat mental outlook that was less common now than it used to be, even on a prosperous mining station.

Usually concerned with fashion and outward appearance, tonight Braden was dressed casually in dark pants, matching shirt and plain jacket that had seen better days and fewer pounds. Still, he managed to stand out against the majority of the bar patrons, who dressed in the common mining jumpsuits favored by the locals on Carealis.

With Evan’s sliver-laced palm resting on the small computer in his hand, he mentally connected to the matching unit in his Keeper’s jacket. This unique Sha’erah talent allowed him to listen in to the conversation as easily as if he were sitting in the same booth.

“Marcase, right on time.” Braden smiled as he sat down, showing off perfectly maintained teeth that glowed perhaps a touch too white. He glanced around briefly, then settled in his seat. “And your partner, he’s . . .?”

“Around,” Alex replied.

Braden laughed. “Of course he is. You know, this is the third time we’ve had dealings, and I haven’t stiffed you even once.”

“And how much of that is because I take such precautions?”

Braden held up both hands. “Honest to God, Alex, I would never risk screwing you over. That partner of yours . . . he scares me. Sha’erah, isn’t he? I know what they’re capable of. At least, I’ve heard stories and read the wanted posters. Not that Evan seems like a bad guy, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I’m smart enough to know any sight of you alone means he’s out there, somewhere, watching.”

“Relax, Braden.” Alex nodded to the waitress for a refill. “As long as he has no reason to get pissed, you have no reason to be afraid.”

“Well hell, son, let’s get this out of the way and relax with a drink.” Braden reached into a pocket and pulled out a data card that he placed it firmly on the table. “The passkey to cargo bay fifteen, dock seven. Your supplies are three crates, still sporting a shiny new factory seal.”

Alex placed a similar card on the table. “Right next door, dock two. Five crates, pure grade.”

The waitress set a glass of scotch down, removing the empty one, then gave Braden his usual, a black Martian, which he raised in a toast with another flash of the bleached white teeth.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Marcase.” He toasted their successful transaction and reduced the contents of his glass by half with one swallow and a huge, satisfied sigh. “You look tired.”

“It’s late.”

“Is it?” Braden glanced around the bar, but there were no time indicators on any of the walls. “I hadn’t realized it was getting on. Guess I won’t be visiting my grandson tonight. You have kids, Marcase?”

“No.”

“That’s thinking ahead.” Braden raised what was left in his glass for another toast.

The two men passed the next ten minutes with relatively useless chatter. Braden enjoyed feeling he could maintain a good rapport with those he traded with, and believed it to be his duty to update them on any gossip he’d picked up from other travelers.

Evan tuned out the conversation and saw Alex was barely listening as well, giving only an occasional nod.

“Actuators?” He was on his third black Martian, lubricating both his throat and his good mood. “I know a guy who might be able to help you. A few months back I made a trade with a fella taking actuators to Threshold. Uses ‘em in some gaming machines or some such thing.” He frowned at his glass, suddenly coming to a realization. “That don’t make much sense, though, does it?”

“You got a name?” Alex inquired.

“Victor. Mark Victor. He runs a casino there.” Braden clicked his tongue. “Funny the casinos are still in business, in light of what’s happened this past year, eh?”

“Humans are strange animals.” Alex finished his drink and Braden took the hint, putting down his empty glass and picking his data card up from the table.

“Pleasure doing business, as usual.” He offered a hand and Alex shook it with a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

Evan watched as Braden left the bar, meeting his two men who’d passed the time drinking beer and watching the waitresses. When they’d left, he put the computer away and stood as Alex approached.

“Business as usual.”

Evan studied his Keeper’s face. “Everything’s okay?”

Alex draped an arm over Evan’s shoulder as they walked out of the bar, his dark mood having given way to red-rimmed eyes and the look of having gone several hours beyond the limits of tiredness. “The headache disappeared a few minutes ago.”

Evan took the key card from his Keeper. “You need sleep. I’ll send Zane to pick up these supplies, he’ll want to inspect them anyway.”

To his credit, Alex didn’t argue even once as they made their way through the station, across the docking bay and into the Defiant. Once in the quarters they shared, Evan ordered him out of his clothes and into bed, but only after taking two of the pills Doctor Zane had prescribed for the intense headaches. Alex’s compliance in issues regarding -- well nearly everything -- were astronomically few and far between. Even with his genetic predisposition and years of training on the subject, Evan often found running herd on this Keeper the hardest duty he performed.

He stayed in their quarters until he was sure Alex had fallen asleep, then left to find Zane still awake in the medical bay. Since the Defiant was a military attack cruiser, its medical facilities were state-of-the-art, requiring only one physician and capable of housing up to four critically injured adults and twenty more less serious. Compact designing allowed for much of the unused space to be closed up, opening the main examination rooms and allowing fewer beds more room and privacy.

The doctor’s quarters were attached, accessed through the back of the office which was set into the rear of the main exam area. It was there Evan found Doctor Zane, sitting at his computer humming to himself and happily pecking at the keyboard, laying the groundwork for whatever new paper or theory he was chewing through at the moment.

“It happened again,” Evan stated simply as he took a seat on the edge of the doctor’s desk.

"Migraine?" Zane looked up from his work. “Where is he now?”

“In his room. I gave him the pills and waited until he fell asleep.” Evan put the key card on Zane’s desk. “The supplies are in dock seven, on cargo bay fifteen. Three crates.”

“Oh, good. I’ll go get them tonight.”

Evan nodded, but remained perched on the desk, contemplating a spot on the floor.

Zane picked up the key card and tapped it against the fingernails of one hand while looking up at Evan. “I know you feel helpless. Believe me, so do I. Unfortunately with all of medicine's advances, sometimes we're still helpless against a thing as simple as a headache.”

“That’s what I can’t accept.” Evan’s jaw clenched for the hundredth time that evening. It was starting to feel sore. He pushed away from Zane’s desk and paced a few feet into the room. “I can’t make them go away, and I can’t keep Alex from getting them in the first place.” He stopped pacing and crossed his arms as a huff of air escaped through flared nostrils.

“His mother was affected by them.” Zane wagged the data key in the air as he spoke. “I assure you, Evan, there's nothing physically wrong. It's a common ailment among deep-space explorers." Zane sighed as he pocketed the key. “I’ll go and get the supplies. You let me know if Alex still has it when he wakes up.”

Evan nodded and walked with the doctor out to the corridor. Zane was the only person besides himself that Evan trusted with his Keeper’s life and well being. He was a good man, and knew more about what it meant for Evan to be Sha’erah, and how that affected who Alex was, than anyone else. Like Braden, Zane was in his fifties, with a full head of near-white hair. But unlike Braden, he was fit and trim with a level of energy that defied his years. His trust and loyalty to both Alex and Evan had quickly extended to their crew of pirates on board the stolen Defiant. And he seemed to relish the danger of their new lives, as if reliving a youth he’d previously been denied.

The next morning, Evan woke from a dreamless night, relieved to know Alex was still sleeping soundly. He showered and dressed in black pants, choosing a matching black sleeveless shirt that had become the Defiant’s uniform of late. They’d removed all military insignia from their clothes right after stealing the ship, except for one set of officer’s general duty wear. You never know when something like that might come in handy, Alex had explained.

Solid black was Evan’s preferred color anyway. It all added drama to his black hair, black eyes and black tattoos on his neck and hand. Completing the look were the side arms he and Alex wore at all times, strapped low on the right thigh. Evan added several knives and another gun on the other thigh whenever they were somewhere less comfortable than Mining Station Carealis. Alex went with two more guns strapped under his arms, but he did stick one knife in his belt for good measure.

Evan checked his guns out of habit, but left them on the couch in the main living area while he checked on a few things. Taking a seat at one of the two computers in the room, Evan placed his palm over the input pad and inhaled slowly and easily. Using the silver interlaced in his hand and throughout his body, he mentally connected with the computer database and got to work.

With a thought, Evan could run a diagnostic on the Defiant, check for messages, send and receive data and even connect with the mining station they were docked to. Any computer he could touch or make contact with was fair game. That talent was what made him valuable as a Sha’erah, but he was of value only to Alex.

Zane’s supplies had been neatly tucked away in sick bay storage, and all the crew were accounted for, waiting to hear from their captain if the Defiant would be pulling out today or sticking around a little longer. Evan sent them all notice that Alex would want to pull out by noon, then checked the readouts from their engine repair.

The main actuator of the Defiant’s super-powered string drive had been damaged during a scuffle with a military patrol a month ago. Evan had been able to piece it together well enough, but he wanted it replaced ASAP. After refusing two rebuilt models, he hoped this contact Braden knew of on Threshold could help them out with a brand new one. The Defiant was too fresh off the assembly line to be fitted with used parts, and too high on the Most Wanted list to risk being slowed down.

Evan finished his checks with an external view of the Defiant itself, as seen through the docking bay monitors. Several months ago, Alex had traded supplies to a man who ran a private shipyard, getting in return a new exterior look for their ship. Gone now were all military identifications, logos and all mandatory exterior lighting. They’d kept the name, but DEFIANT was now spelled out in bolder lettering, gunmetal gray on black. The entire ship had received a special coating in a space-black material designed to help absorb sensors rather than bounce them back. The visual affect was dramatic. Against the black of space, with no lighting directed onto it, the Defiant was next to invisible.

“I’ll never get used to that look. It’s creepy.”

Evan blinked, focusing on Alex as he lifted his palm from the computer. His Keeper was actually grinning, belying his discomfort at the sight. “I think it suits you.” He stretched, then stood and walked to the galley.

“It suits what they forced us to become, anyway.” Alex’s brown hair was still wet from the shower, and he was wearing only pants, but there was a shirt on the galley’s dining surface, with a gun and holster piled on top of it. He sat down and ran a hand over his damp beard, then reached for the shirt. “Did Zane get his medical supplies?”

“He did,” Evan replied, taking coffee from the dispenser. “The crew’s accounted for. I told them we’d be pulling out at noon.”

“Thanks,” Alex accepted the mug of coffee after pulling the shirt over his head. “Threshold was the first Turbidium mining colony ever established. I didn’t realize it was still running.” He slid both arms through the shirt and tugged it down into place.

“I’m not sure they’re still mining, but it’s a fully populated colony. And if there’s a chance this Victor guy might have new actuators, it’s worth checking out.”

Alex nodded. “Definitely.”

Evan watched his Keeper as he drank the coffee, studying his face for any sign of last night's headache.

"I'm fine." Alex picked up the holster and strapped it on. “You’re giving me that look again.”

Evan made a face. “What look is that?”

“That I-wonder-if he's-not-telling-me look.”

Evan took a deep breath, lowered his eyelids and put both hands on the galley counter. Leaning forward slightly, he stared at his Keeper and allowed that to be his only response.

The man could be such a child sometimes.

Alex checked his weapon again in order to avoid eye contact, then shoved the gun back into the holster. It rode low on his thigh, like Evan’s, so he could stand relaxed, arms down, and find the handle of the gun at palm-level. “I should really just learn to lay off the whisky, maybe I'd have fewer of them.”

“If I thought I could keep you from drinking entirely, I would,” Evan quipped. His comment drew a raised eyebrow, but his Keeper refused to challenge the claim.

“Let’s get out of here.”

______________________

When the Defiant received clearance from Carealis station to depart, various umbilical tubes, gangways and gravity support cradles began retracting. Slowly, the battleship-turned-pirate-vessel floated away from the orbital mining colony. Her captain and crew watched from the flight deck as scaffolding, ships, and cargo barges appeared to float by in a slow-motion dance of physics. Gaining some distance, the mining station filled the view screen. It looked very much like a giant bee hive, bustling with activity as loads of raw minerals were brought in from the massive asteroid the station orbited, and cargo ships left with the refined product. Originally under corporate contract, the minerals Carealis mined were now bartered on the open market for various goods and services.

Cash held little value in the new reality.

Once clear of the station, the Defiant’s main engines came to life, thrusting the powerful ship further into open space where her unique string drive could connect with a pathway and propel her and her crew on their way.

The Defiant was a war ship, brand new when Alex Marcase was given command. It had been a trade for his exploration vessel the Ascalon, but Evan had to steal it when the navy tried to revoke their promise. She was armed from bow to stern with a wide array of missiles, lasers and smart bombs and carried two shuttles, one standard-issue, and the Finder’s Keeper, a ship Alex and Evan had acquired several years ago.

In a fight, the Defiant feared little. Other military ships, and the occasional pirate ambush being the most common. Normally capable of outrunning anything that got in the way, she’d taken one direct hit to the engines in their last battle with a naval frigate, blowing the actuator and causing the main drive to overheat.

It was a handicap that now forced a drop out of string-drive every few hours so the struggling engine could be super-cooled in the chill of normal space. A move that made them vulnerable to any patrols in the vicinity at the time.

Since the Turbidium mining station Threshold was located dangerously close to commonly used shipping lanes, the chances of running into a patrol along the way were high. Alex ordered the crew on full alert during each drop into normal space, ready for a fight if need be.

Between the final two drops before reaching their destination, Alex and Evan took their turn in the Defiant’s gym, sparring with lightweight metal poles. The entire crew had taken to honing their fighting skills and carrying weapons. Since the plague, laws had blurred and those willing to uphold them found little hope of being paid for their trouble. Even Doctor Zane practiced regularly and carried a stun gun any time he left the ship.

Working out this way had the added benefit of stress-relief and a healthy build-up of muscle and shape that just as often allowed them to avoid fights as get into them. Today it just felt good. Using muscles, commanding movement and reactions with confidence and ease. Building up beads of sweat that flew around the room on a workout of their own.

Evan ducked under Alex’s swing and came around with a shot to his knees. The parry was avoided and followed by a near-miss to the shoulder. Alex laughed at the closeness of the swing and took a step back, allowing him time to push some sweat away from his eyes.

“Not bad,” Evan replied, doing the same. He wouldn’t admit it for fear of unnecessarily inflating the man’s ego, but Alex’s fighting skills had greatly improved over the months. Evan no longer had to hold back, and couldn’t relax his own reflexes for fear of a black eye or nasty bruise.

Alex lunged again and Evan fought off the attack, then came around from behind with a counter swing. He saw Alex’s gaze dart to the right, but too late to alter the course of his stick. It made contact with some force.

Alex fell backwards, landing on his ass against the padded walls of the sparing room, blood already dripping from his split lip, getting caught up in the hairs on his chin.

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw it coming.” Evan tossed his pole aside and walked over, holding out a hand to help his friend to his feet.

“Oh, I did,” Alex replied. He gingerly touched the lip, then cursed and threw his pole to the side. He took the offered hand and pulled himself up. "I just didn't expect you to move that direction."

Evan stepped closer and grabbed hold of Alex’s chin, taking a good look at the cut. Satisfied it wasn’t serious, he let go. Before he could lecture on the need to expect the unexpected during any battle, real or practiced, the ship’s alarm sounded.

A crackle over the intercom preceded Bridge Chief Reilly’s announcement. “Dropping out to Threshold’s space.”

Alex grabbed a towel from the wall and wiped sweat and blood from his face. “Let’s get to the bridge.”

When they passed a small view port between the fight room and the main observation room, Evan glance at the stars as the Defiant dropped into normal space. “Too late.”

Instantly the ships lights went dark.

They ran to the bridge where Evan hurried to the nearest terminal and mentally put himself into the Defiant’s controls. The crew had already reacted to the patrol ship by going dark and powering down the engines, but Evan was quicker in dampening all onboard electronics and sensor arrays. At the same time, he activated the skin their ship was coated with, ready to absorb and redirect any scan aimed their way.

Now floating dark and without engine power, the Defiant drifted straight toward the naval patrol ship.

“Get a countermeasure prepped,” Alex’s order was calmly delivered but instantly responded to by Lt. Garcia, stationed at the main weapon control.

If they were seen, or scanned, Evan would have to block any calls for help while Alex waged battle for their lives. They’d done it before, but only when running wasn’t an option. After stealing the Defiant and breaking Alex out of a high-security military jail, Evan and the crew knew they’d become wanted men. Staying as far away from colonized space as possible, they had avoided any patrols or hunting parties sent looking for them. But since coming back to trade and deal, these little run-ins had become more and more common. Alex offered them all several ways out, chances to leave the Defiant and lead as normal a life as possible, but not one man or woman had taken him up.

Alex had far from resigned himself to living life as an outlaw, but he’d taken to its complications almost instinctively.

Evan detected only the most basic scans, and not one directed at them. He kept his senses on alert, but focused back in to the bridge. Everyone on deck watched as the Defiant drifted underneath the other ship, like a barracuda passing beneath a preoccupied whale, only in the perfect silence of space.

The crew began speculating in hushed tones.

“I wonder who pays them.”

“Do you think it matters?”

“I’d like to know who it is they’re working for these days.”

Alex turned to Evan. “Are we clear?”

“They’re only looking straight ahead,” Evan replied. “Must be too busy calculating their route.” He focused once again through the Defiant’s computer, seeing the naval vessel from outside. Their own ship was completely black against the darkness of space, visible only to the well trained naked eye. With no scans directly probing them out, the Defiant slipped by without notice.

“They’re holding course, leaving the system.” Evan kept his hand on the computer terminal, not willing to let down his guard until the patrol ship was further away. “Our engines need another three minutes for cool-down.”

Alex nodded. “Alright, we hang tight until they’re well on their way, then head straight to Threshold. Has anyone been there before?”

There were murmurs and shaking heads all around the bridge until Doctor Zane stepped through the door.

“I have, once.”

Alex waved him closer. “Any idea what kind of people we can expect to find there?”

Zane looked thoughtful for a moment, then noticed the cut on Alex’s lower lip. “Didn’t see it coming?”

“Oh I saw it coming, just didn’t get out of the way in time.”

“Stop by sickbay and get some antibiotic lotion for that. As for Threshold,” Zane shrugged and rubbed his chin. “I was there briefly about five years ago. Nice enough place at the time. It’s more of a resort, than mining station. Or at least, it was then. Casinos, hotels, entertainment. The mines were emptied out years ago.”

“Anyone’s guess, then,” Alex surmised.

“I would say so, yes.”

Evan put his focus back into the Defiant’s systems and checked the status of the patrol ship. “We’re clear.”

“Engines are cooled, Captain,” Reilly confirmed.

“Take us to Threshold.” Alex put a hand on Evan’s shoulder, bringing his attention back to the bridge. “Let’s go have a look at what’s waiting for us.”

_____________________

“Interesting looking place,” Alex observed. They were in their quarters now, looking at a holographic representation of Threshold hovering a few inches above the coffee table.

The mining colony consisted of only one large, half-moon building, built around the lip of a massive crater. The majority of the complex actually hung over the open mine, with structural arms branching out that dug deeply into the moon’s surface. There was orbital docking available for any of the massive cruise ships that might happen by, but with barely noticeable gravity, landing in one of the many surface docks was just as practical. Even a larger, high-mass ship could achieve liftoff and escape velocity using only thrusters and the moon’s slow rotational spin. The Defiant was a smaller ship compared to many, but even she couldn’t land on a standard gravity world without doing massive damage to the surrounding area trying to lift off.

Evan pointed to a section to the left of the large building. “The structure extends into the moon itself on this side, with underground facilities and pathways.”

Alex watched with tactical interest as Evan pointed out the various sections, altering the hologram to show the blueprints and technical diagrams.

“Obviously they’ve managed a working atmosphere inside the buildings and caves, but the moon’s surface is complete vacuum.” He looked from the hologram to his Keeper. “Zane was right, it’s mostly hotels and casinos now.”

“So what do you think?”

Evan arched an eyebrow. “About what, exactly?”

Alex twisted the silver ring around his finger, a habit he used often to help him think through difficult situations. “If this was Spencer coming to Threshold to do business, what would he be thinking?”

“Spencer?” Evan blinked in surprise at the highly unusual question. “You’ve never asked me what your father would have thought before.”

Alex shrugged, continuing to turn the ring around his finger. “Well, I am now. If we’re going to live like criminals, I need to start thinking like one.”

“You’re not a criminal,” Evan corrected.

“Yes, I am. We all are. Maybe not moralistically, but technically, yes.”

“They stole your ship and unlawfully imprisoned you.”

“Look, Evan, I’m not complaining. Except for that whole Keeper-Sha'erah wanted list business.” Alex finally stopped spinning the silver ring. “We didn’t have a choice. I’m just saying . . . Given the current circumstances, you have more experience.”

“Not in the same sense.”

“Oh just answer the damn question.”

“Okay.” He took a breath and glanced at the hologram one more time. “If Spencer were going there, he’d be looking for a dealer, someone who wanted what he could offer. Since the mines went dry and the place turned into a vacation spot, he’d assume the casinos were filled with people just like him.”

“Criminals?”

Evan nodded. “The type who would make deals on top of deals, and not think twice about shaking your hand then stabbing you in the back.”

“So we shouldn’t trust this Victor guy?”

“We shouldn’t trust anyone.” Evan never did, but he often had to remind his Keeper to be more careful. “Victor might be fine, but anyone else who sees us could recognize an opportunity. I doubt the place harbors naval patrols, but they’re probably not above calling in the troops when they smell a reward.”

Alex laughed shortly and shook his head. “After all this time.”

Evan shut off the hologram and watched his Keeper silently. The beard Alex had grown lent a distinct moodiness to his expression. A mood that could shift instantly from dark introspection to angry outburst with no warning. Captain Alex Marcase was a lot of things, both good and bad.

Moody as hell was definitely one of them.

He was stroking his beard, idly running his fingers down his chin as he stared at the floor. “Paranoid is one hell of a way to live.”

“I can think of worse.”

Alex looked up, one curious eyebrow arching. Evan continued with a shrug.

“Scared, for one. Helpless, greedy, hated, just to name a few more.” There were things Evan couldn’t keep his friend from thinking, or worrying about. But there was one topic he wouldn’t allow. “You’re not your father, Alex.” There were similarities. Sometimes even striking ones, but that was as far as it went. Comparing Alex to Spencer – his former Keeper and known criminal -- didn’t even warrant consideration.

“Not yet, anyway.” Alex let out a sigh, shrugging off the topic with a wave of his hand. “Let’s just hope we can find a new actuator and get this ship back up to top condition.”

“We will. If not on Threshold, then somewhere else.” Evan unstrapped his holster and tossed the gun to the couch. “Speaking of which, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. I need a shower.”

Alex glanced down at his sweat-covered shirt and made a face. “Not exactly the best first impression to make.”

“That’s an area you could use some help with.”

Alex pulled off his sweaty shirt and tossed it at Evan’s head. “Smart ass.”

He caught the shirt easily, then tossed it into the cleansing unit on the way to his room. Now that they had a ship with enough speed to reach any of the planets they’d mapped out within days instead of months, indulging in long, hot showers was allowed without putting a strain on recyclers. Water rationing in space was a necessity, and could sometimes be brutal on personal hygiene. But it was that scarcity – coupled with the dangers now inherent in supply runs to plaque-stricken planets – that made the Defiant such a valuable ship. Alex would always find a moon base, orbital station or cluster of mining docks willing to trade valuable items for a supply of fresh water.

The bonus was their own never ending supply for personal use.

Evan stepped into the shower and stood underneath the hot spray for several minutes, letting the water cascade down over his head and body, washing away the sweat from that day’s sparring exercise. After a full minute of simply standing there, enjoying the wetness, he switched on the body sprays and adjusted the massaging level. Instantly his muscles began to relax under the pounding spray, allowing his mind to drift to that midpoint between fully alert and completely unaware.

It was there Evan got the most rest, in the meditative stage of relaxation. It was there he could let his instincts keep watch on his Keeper and not share any nightmares Alex might have. As Sha’erah, he was completely in tune with his Keeper’s moods and whereabouts, but with Spencer, it had never been this all-encompassing. He’d never questioned why his connection with Alex was so much more complete than it had been with his father, but he did know it had less to do with his genetically enhanced connection with the one who wore the ring, and more to do with something else entirely.

With Alex, he didn’t just fulfill a purpose, he had purpose. Spencer couldn’t have given him that even if he’d tried.

Evan pulled himself out of his relaxed daze and went about the business of cleaning up, adding a cleansing soap to the water spray that would clean both body and hair. After dressing once again in black pants and shirt, he added a full-length black coat made of animal leather. It was lightweight and easy to wear in a fight, but also had several pockets and straps to help conceal his array of personal weapons. He liked to think it added a final touch to the intimidation-factor he worked so hard to cultivate. Most believed the best defense was a good offense. Evan believed the best defense was to eliminate the threat immediately by scaring the shit out of anyone who even thought about making trouble.

It usually worked. Especially now that he was convincing Alex to dress similarly. His Keeper was wearing black pants and shirt, but he preferred a deep brown leather coat that stopped at the knee, just below the bottom of his holster. The jacket completely concealed the guns Alex wore under each arm, and Evan had added a few straps inside the jacket itself for storing knives safely and easily.

By the time they made it back to the bridge, the Defiant was pulling up to Threshold’s docking space. The entire crew -- all thirteen of them -- were on hand, watching the docking bays draw closer.

“I’m not finding any patrols, sir,” Chief Reilly announced. “We’ve been welcomed and offered a spot on-moon to park.”

Alex squinted at the view port, scanning the ships already parked on the moon’s surface. “What’s the gravity?”

“Barely ten percent Earth Standard. The buildings have floor plating set for Standard, and their docking facility interiors are plated as well.” Reilly checked a readout on the terminal in front of him. “We could land easily and have no trouble at all lifting off.”

“Let’s do it. Better to have a straight shot at our ship than have to rely on someone’s shuttle service.”

Evan mentally applauded his Keeper’s exit strategy. Alex had Spencer’s instincts, but he doubted it would be wise to mention that little detail.

“Who’s got duty this time?” Alex glanced around the bridge until a hand was raised.

Lieutenant Rivers stepped forward. “It’s my turn, sir,” she admitted.

“Okay, you’re responsible for the whereabouts of everyone.” Alex glanced around the bridge, including the whole crew in his announcement. “If you leave the ship, you take a Comm unit with you. Everyone’s on their own, do what you like, but if you hear Evan give the recall, you get your asses back here. We don’t want to leave anyone behind. If you run into trouble, you tell everyone. We came here together, we leave here together.”

There were murmurs of agreement all around to what had become standard operating procedure whenever the Defiant was in port or docked with another vessel or base. It was a strategy that had kept them all together so far, and gave them an edge whenever trouble appeared. Even the most basic bar fight didn’t stand a chance once the entire crew arrived to back up their shipmate.

Following his own order, Alex picked up a communications unit as they left the bridge, securing it to his right ear. The mouthpiece was extremely thin, extending down halfway along the jaw line. In Alex’s case, it was completely camouflaged by his beard. Evan could avoid wearing the things by simply securing a tiny transmitter to the silver metal in his palm, automatically giving him a mental connection to the main unit on the Defiant as well as all the portables in use. With that, he could issue commands via the computer system and not have to speak out loud to do so. A distinct advantage in certain situations.

It also allowed him access to Sylvester.

After his mother’s death, Alex had ordered Evan to destroy the small hoverbot that had been her constant companion and personal butler, in order to preserve the late Madame Duvia’s privacy. Having chosen to creatively interpret his Keeper’s request, Evan had erased all data Sylvester held, and removed the exterior casing that gave the hovering robot its distinctive floating-box appearance. What was left was a very fast, very mobile sensor, completely silent, weighing less than half a pound and no larger than a man’s fist. He’d taken away the voice Alex knew as Sylvester, and replaced it with a slightly more mechanical version that he controlled through the transmitter attached to his palm.

Using Sylvester as an extra set of eyes and ears gave Evan an added feeling of security any time he and Alex were at risk of being separated in an unfamiliar place.

His Keeper was still trying to warm up to the idea.

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