Текст книги "Night of the Wolves "

Автор книги: Stephani Danelle Perry

Соавторы: Britta Dennison
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Kalisi’s comm buzzed, and she jerked awake, unaware that she’d even been asleep. She rubbed her face, tapped at the panel. Who was even up this late? “Yes?”

“Kalisi, it’s me.”Miras Vara. Kalisi woke up a bit. She hadn’t expected to hear from Miras for a while, after that strange, stilted lunch they’d had, following the odd incident with the Bajoran artifact.

“Miras? Are you in your lab? What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but I’m not going to.”Her friend smiled wryly. “Kalisi, I know you’ll think it’s an odd request, but I need to look at the Orb again. It’s…for a study I’m doing.”

Kalisi was instantly curious. Why would Miras ask to see the artifact this late at night? Not that it mattered anyway. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Miras. After the computer malfunction, it was pulled from general access. The director of engineering says she doesn’t want anyone to take it out again until further analysis can be done, but it was put at the end of a very long queue. You’ve got a wait ahead of you if you want to see it.”

Miras looked crestfallen. “No, Kalisi, it’s…Ineed to see it. I’ve got to convince the head of engineering to let me look at it, just for a few minutes. It wasn’t the artifact that affected the computer system. It was…I don’t know, but it wasn’t the artifact.”

Kalisi kept her face impassive, studying Miras. They had agreed that the object must have had a dampening effect on the ministry’s system. It was the only explanation. And now Miras denied it. Suspicious, to say the least.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do,” Kalisi said. “You’ll have to put whatever research you’ve got going on hold, unless you can convince engineering that it’s something that can’t wait.”

“Well, I guess…I’ll have to come up with some reason to convince them to let me see it. Imust. Imust see that object.”Miras looked determined, and Kalisi felt more worried than suspicious now. They hadn’t been in touch for a while, but Miras had never been like this. The Miras she knew was smart, sweet, slightly passive. Something about that artifact was making her friend act very strangely. Kalisi knew that she had just recovered from an illness—she looked drawn and too thin—and wondered if the artifact might have had something to do with that, as well.

“Are you feeling all right?” Kalisi asked.

“Fine, I’m well, thank you for asking.”Miras smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere, Kalisi could see it in her face. They exchanged vague promises of future meetings. Miras gave her a distracted good-bye and faded from the screen. Kalisi sat back in her seat, thinking.

Maybe the artifact should be put under heavier security. Kalisi recalled some of what Miras had been raving about, after that strange incident—the destruction of Cardassia Prime. And shortly thereafter, she’d fallen ill, had been away from work for days…

Kalisi made a quick decision. There were people who could handle a thing like this, and her father knew them. It was late, but she decided it wasn’t too late to bring up something that could be of importance to the Union, not if the artifact was truly dangerous. She reactivated her comm.

“Father? I’m sorry to call you so late—”

Yannik Reyar smiled gently at his daughter. “It’s no trouble, my dear girl. It’s always a treat to hear from you. How is your research coming? Have I mentioned how proud I am, of you and your efforts?”

“Thank you, Father, yes, you have mentioned, but it does me good to hear it again. Father, there is something I would like to discuss with you. This is a matter that I believe transcends the military.”

His expression sharpened. “Kalisi, I will contact you on another channel. End the call now.”

She did as she was told, and waited for another call to come through. This was standard protocol for any message relayed that might concern the Obsidian Order, though Kalisi hadn’t had much occasion to make reference to them before now.

Yannik Reyar was not actually a member of the Order. He acted as liaison between the Order and Central Command, and both organizations considered him an impartial entity. His position was unique, and important. Historically, there had been others like him, but none had been active in a time where there had been so much conflict between the two bodies. It made his job a dangerous one, especially since Central Command needed him more than the Order did—and the Order had the means to make him disappear at any time. They had the means to make anyone disappear, but Yannik’s position put him at much higher risk. He knew it, and his family knew it, too. But he considered his work to be of value to Cardassia, and bore the risk with some measure of pride. As a result of her father’s involvement, Kalisi had come to view the Order with a great deal of respect—in fact, she respected them more than the military, though the latter funded the science ministry’s research.

The comm blinked as a scrambled message came through, and Kalisi entered a password to access her father’s incoming transmission. “Is it safe to speak freely, Father?”

“Yes, this channel is secure. What is it you wish to tell me?”

“It will sound very strange, I’m sure. But…the Ministry of Science is in possession of an…object that may be of some significance. It came to my attention some time ago, but it’s only been recently that I’ve learned of its apparent effects.”

“What kind of an object?”

“It’s a religious artifact from Bajor. But it seems to have technological capabilities that can’t be explained—at least, not yet. The ministry’s computer system was disabled for a short period when the object was being studied. The sensors gave false readings.”

“Really?”

“The ministry plans to study it further, but…you know how inefficiently things are being done of late. It may be years before anyone gets to it. At any rate, after being exposed to it, my friend Miras was raving in a most disturbing manner, and then she became ill. Now she seems obsessed with the thing, wishing to see it again for some unknown purpose. Whatever it is, it has powers far beyond what meets the eye. I’m sure of it.”

“Now…just a moment. You say your friend was raving when she saw the object. And then she became ill?”

Kalisi nodded. “She was speaking of the destruction of Cardassia. That there was a man on Bajor who was going to find something…I don’t remember what it was…” Kalisi closed her eyes for a beat, trying to recall—the eidetic skill that so many Cardassians had perfected had never come easily for her. “Another of the artifacts, I believe. There are supposed to be a series of them. She was quite specific about a man called…G’ar, I think. G’ar Osen. But then she said it wasn’t his real name, that he wasn’t really a Bajoran. It sounded like nonsense, but she was obviously quite deeply affected. I admit, I’ve grown concerned about her.”

“G’ar Osen? And you believe it was this object that made her so hysterical? This Bajoran artifact?”

“She’s a very sensible person, normally. I’m telling you, Father, I have a bad feeling about this thing, as though it could be some kind of sophisticated weapon, sent under the guise of being a harmless religious object. I think the Order’s scientists should see it. Central Command…”

She trailed off, knowing that her father felt as she did, about Command’s disregard for the sciences, despite its funding of the ministry. But he still appeared uncertain.

“There’s more, Father. A professor at the ministry told me, long ago, that there was a rumor about the object. I did not take it seriously at the time, but she confided that she had heard the object may have had some connection to the Order. It’s possible that during the transition when Enabran Tain took office, the item was somehow removed from the Order’s storehouse. I couldn’t imagine how such a thing could have happened, but…”

Her father frowned. “When Tain became head of the Order, certain objects were alleged to have gone missing…”His eyes went faraway as he seemed to make a decision. He refocused on her, nodding once. “I will see to it that the proper channels are opened.”

“Thank you, Father. You are good to indulge me.”

“A father always indulges his children,”he said, his broad face breaking into a kindly smile. “Especially children who have always been obedient and who have always made him so proud.”

Gul Dukat delivered the news to Damar personally, coming down from his office landing to tell him. The two men faced each other, standing at Damar’s station in ops. Damar was eager to return to his quarters so he could contact Veja and give her the good news, but he would not have dreamed of excusing himself from Dukat—especially considering that the gul was responsible for seeing to it that Damar’s promotion had been approved so quickly. He was now a first-tier gil, up from second in under a year; he’d never imagined that he could have risen in rank so quickly. He knew that without Dukat’s recommendation, he would not have.

“I can’t think of a man better suited to climb so swiftly up the ladder of military responsibility,” the prefect said warmly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you made glinn before the year was out, Damar.”

“Thank you, sir. I am honored to be the recipient of such confidence.”

“You’ve earned it.”

Damar shifted a little. He wanted to excuse himself without seeming rude or ungrateful, but it seemed like an awkward moment to do so.

“Veja will be overcome when you tell her, I imagine.”

“Yes. In fact I was hoping to—”

“I understand the two of you have planned a little retreat.”

“That’s right, sir. We’re going to the old resort at Tilar.”

“Ah, yes. The vineyards. I went there shortly after first arriving on Bajor. It’s beautiful there, and usually very private. It used to get very crowded in its heyday, but after rumors started that Bajor wasn’t such an ideal vacation spot—well, it’s fair to assume that you and Veja won’t have much company there.”

Damar smiled. “I can’t complain about that.”

“No. Well, I’m sure you’re eager to convey the good news to her. I will see you tomorrow morning, Gil Damar.”

Damar grinned helplessly and made his way to his quarters. Veja was sure to be beside herself when she heard the news—for he would be a glinn even sooner than he could possibly have hoped, and when that happened, there would be no reason to delay the enjoinment ceremony any further. Veja would be able to conclude her work with the Information Service, and Damar could expect to have more flexibility in his assignments. He could even hope to be stationed in the Cardassian system, instead of out here on the frontier—for of course, Veja would want to go back to Cardassia Prime once they had been enjoined. He and Veja could expect to spend somewhat more extensive stretches of time together; even if he was called away now and again, it would be a distinct improvement over those sporadic lunches he had shared with her on the station, those too brief stolen hours on the surface. And, of course, they could begin extending their family. He could be a father. That was the part that Damar looked forward to the very most.

He hurried his stride, barely able to contain his excitement.

8

Lenaris had been right about Halpas. After rubbing Holem’s face in his unnecessary apology, the brusque old pilot was all too happy to accompany them back to Tilar to have a look at the warp ship, along with Tiven Cohr. He was also happy to use his own little raider to fly them back to where Lenaris had left the Ornathia shuttle, on the plateau of the Berain mountains—Halpas knew the traffic patterns like the back of his hand, and he had no fear of being detected. “Stick to the legitimate paths, they don’t even look up from the scanners,” he’d drawled. It was only a few hours later that they met again in Tilar.

Before they’d even left the hidden hangar in the foothills, Ornathia Delle had shown up to inform Taryl of the latest news—Seefa had gone.

“Where did he go?” Taryl asked, an edge of fear and regret in her tone.

“I don’t know,” Delle said. “He wouldn’t stop raving about how the Cardassians are going to come here, soon. He said we all need to take the shuttles and go—get as far away from the balon as possible.”

“I told him—Lac said they didn’t get his ship!”

Delle shook her head. “He wouldn’t listen,” she said. “A few others have gone as well. Tancha and Res and Vusan…”

Taryl looked lost for a moment before pulling herself together. “I can’t go looking for Seefa now,” she said. “We’ve got to get that carrier ready to go!”

Lenaris was prone to agree. Seefa could take care of himself. Lac, however—

Halpas and Tiven followed Lenaris and Taryl through the empty fields that lay between the village and the carrier’s resting place. “What’s all this about balon?” Tiven wanted to know.

“It’s how we fuel our ships,” Lenaris explained.

Halpas looked stunned, his heavy eyebrows moving back from his forehead. “You mean…like the ship you flew here? Are you joking?”

Taryl shook her head. “We distill the balon and isolate the nadion-affected components to stabilize it. We’ve been doing it for close to five years now, without a single incident.”

Halpas and Tiven appeared impressed, and when Lenaris told them that Taryl had created the technology, they were even more so.

“Where did you train?” Tiven wanted to know.

Taryl flushed. “Self-taught,” she explained. “My grandfather always said I had a knack for chemistry…”

“She’s an excellent engineer as well,” Lenaris told them.

“Not good enough to fix that carrier,” Taryl said.

“Well, you don’t have to be,” Tiven said. “That’s why I’ve come, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Taryl said, “and I’m hoping to learn a thing or two as long as we have you.”

Tiven frowned, and Lenaris wondered if he didn’t like the idea of an overzealous would-be protégée getting in his way, but the old man said nothing.

They reached the ship in very little time, Halpas and Tiven both doing a terrible job of masking their excitement as they looked it over. “She looks structurally sound,” Tiven announced. Lenaris and Lac had almost completely dug the ship out, and their diagnosis had been similar—these old carriers were built sturdy, and even some of the hardest impacts couldn’t crack them.

Tiven practically scampered up the side of the wing, climbing down into the cockpit like a man twenty years younger, with Halpas close on his heels. Lenaris and Taryl came in afterward, when Tiven had tapped on a palmlight and was already halfway down to the engine room.

Lenaris followed Taryl and Tiven down into the engine room while Halpas looked over the navigation controls. The old engineer wasted no time in hoisting himself into the maintenance conduit, shifting about and making his inspection for only a few moments before calling out his diagnosis. “Anti-grav’s completely shot, the aft piston coil array is fried, rear thrusters are in bad shape…and…it looks like the auxiliary power is…hm…”

“What?” Lenaris said.

Tiven bent his body so that his head emerged from the conduit. “Who’s been working on the auxiliary systems?”

“That was me,” Taryl said quickly. “A long time ago. I didn’t make it worse, did I?”

“No, no,” Tiven said, his head and shoulders again disappearing into the tube. “It looks like you would have almost had it, actually—you just need two self-sealing stem bolts on the transformer plate underneath the shock absorption circuit.”

“Oh—I have some, back in my house!” Taryl exclaimed. “I can go get them right now!”

“That would be helpful,” Tiven said. “And if you have a flange-type resistor wrench to torque down those bolts…”

“I do,” she said.

“Maybe I’d better go with you,” Lenaris suggested, feeling that his presence here was a bit superfluous. Taryl didn’t discourage him, and they climbed out of the ship together, into the afternoon sunlight.

They walked through the fields in silence for a while, Lenaris simply enjoying her company, as he had been doing since they left Tilar. It was nice to spend time with her without Seefa along. He felt a stab of guilt at the thought, hoping that Seefa wasn’t in any kind of danger, but he chased the thought away.

Similar thoughts must have occurred to Taryl. “I think I know where Seefa could have gone,” she said glumly. “And I’m sure he wants me to come after him. He’s testing me.”

Lenaris didn’t know what to say. He knew what he would have liked to say—that if Seefa was indeed testing her, then it was an unfair gauge of Taryl’s loyalties. How could she be expected to choose between her brother and her fiancé? “Where do you think he is?” he finally asked.

“Back near his family’s farm,” Taryl said. “The Aro farm was adjacent to my parents’ lands, when we were children.”

“So…your marriage was arranged?” Lenaris already knew as much, but he hadn’t heard it from Taryl, he’d heard it from Lac.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“How did you feel about that?”

She looked slightly put off. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just how things were always done around here.”

“But not anymore,” Lenaris pointed out.

They did not speak for a few more minutes.

“Holem,” she finally said. A subtle coloration in her tone had him very uncomfortable; he was sure now that she was upset with him.

“What is it?”

“You don’t really like Seefa, do you?”

Lenaris bit his lips, cursing the notorious directness of the Ornathia family. “What makes you say that?” He wished with all his heart that something—anything—would distract her from this conversation. A house caught on fire, an underground tremor, the very voices of the Prophets calling out from above…

She looked away. “Never mind. You’ve just answered me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re chewing your lip like it was a piece of gristle. You always do that when you’re uncomfortable.”

“Well, maybe it’s you making me uncomfortable.” Lenaris instantly wished he hadn’t said it.

Taryl looked annoyed for a split second before she laughed. “Oh, Holem. Be serious. What is it about him that you don’t like?”

Lenaris was taken aback at her laughter. Why did she find it funny that he might be uncomfortable around her? In fact, sometimes he wasuncomfortable around her, if only because his desire for a more meaningful relationship with her would periodically make his heart feel like it was going to break. But she probably had no idea that his affection for her was anything beyond platonic. She probably regarded him as she regarded her own brother. The consideration of that possibility brought back the unhappy sensation of heartache, and Lenaris blurted out his answer to her question without really considering what her reaction would be.

“He’s not good enough for you, Taryl. That’s all I have against him.”

Taryl looked surprised, but there wasn’t time to address the topic any further, for they had reached the village.

Lenaris followed her into the cottage, helping her to gather up the necessary items in a rough satchel. “Let me carry that,” he insisted, making to sling the satchel over his own shoulder.

“I can do it,” Taryl said, reaching for the satchel and sounding cross.

“Taryl…” Lenaris said, not wanting to finish, but knowing that he had to. He couldn’t have tension with her, not now. “Don’t be upset with me about Seefa. It isn’t that I have anything against him. It’s just…”

“What?” she asked, and the anger had gone out of her voice. Lenaris thought that she wanted to hear him say it—he hoped she did—

“I can’t help how I feel,” he said stiffly.

She put her hand on his shoulder, as if to remove the satchel, but she didn’t remove it. “And how do you feel?”

He couldn’t say anything else, and he thought she looked disappointed for a moment before he realized that she was crying softly.

“Taryl!” he said, alarmed. “I…I’m sorry! Seefa will be all right…I should never have said anything…it wasn’t my place…”

She came into his arms and he held her close, feeling as he did that it was wrong to enjoy it so much when she was so obviously hurting.

“It’s not just that,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his chest. “I feel as though I was wrong to leave him. What if I never see him again, and the last words we had were angry? I’m…the only family he really has, since his aunt and uncle passed.”

“You’ll see him again. He loves you, and the two of you are going to be married.” The words tasted less than sweet in his mouth, but he wanted, he needed, to console her.

“I don’t wantto marry him, Holem.”

His body went rigid for a beat. He wondered if he’d heard her correctly.

“I care about Seefa, but I haven’t wanted to marry him for a long time. Maybe I just got angry with you because…I felt so guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“Yes. Because…I was…glad that he wasn’t with me. With…us.” Taryl began to cry again, her face pressed against Holem’s shoulder, her body warm against his. He found that he could not resist holding her a little bit tighter. After a long beat, she turned her face closer to his, so that he could feel her breath on his skin. He brushed her forehead with his lips…and before he had quite realized what was happening, he was kissing the ridges of her nose, and then her mouth, softly at first, and then harder as she responded, and then his hands had begun to move across her back, underneath her tunic and around her waist, and her hands were finding their way across the front of his chest, and she had removed the satchel from his shoulder and it dropped to the floor.

Their clothes seemed to fall away as they tumbled to her bed in an eager meeting of mouths and limbs and fingers. They moved slowly, and then quickly, and then slowly again, becoming a single, breathing, living thing for a few stretching moments, their hearts and bodies perfectly in rhythm. Lenaris had been with a few women, had even loved two of them—but this was different, it was Taryl,and the depth of what he felt for her far surpassed any love he’d known before they had become friends.

Entangled in her arms, Lenaris felt like he could sleep for days, exhausted and happier than he had been since he was a boy. But there were things that must be done…things that he hardly felt like considering now that Taryl was here, pressed against his body. He wanted to just hold her a little longer…

But she stood up abruptly, retrieving her clothes from the rough floor where they had been discarded. She didn’t look at him as she dressed. “Come on, Holem,” she finally said. “We’d better get back.”

“Sure,” he said, quickly dressing and retrieving the fallen satchel to loop it across his chest. This time, she did not argue with him about carrying it. She seemed determined not to meet his gaze, and he sadly decided that if he hadn’t wanted things between them to remain tense, he’d just done exactly the wrong thing.

Damar sat before the companel in his quarters with an unhappy knot in the pit of his stomach. He was not looking forward to this, but it could not be helped. He hoped she would understand; after all, his responsibilities were greater than they had been before his promotion. Veja had to realize that. She had to realize that his obligation to Dukat was immense. He entered Veja’s communication code with a great deal of reluctance.

“You are looking beautiful, as always,” he said, as Veja’s face appeared on his screen. “It pains me to tell you that it will be longer than we might have hoped until I will be able to see you again in person.”

“What do you mean?”Veja did not look like she was going to take this very well.

“My darling, you have my deepest apologies, but—”

“Oh, no, Corat. Not the trip to the vineyards!”

Damar hung his head. “Please, Veja. My duties to the station come first, no matter how much I wish it might be otherwise. You know that as well as anyone.”

“But, Corat, this trip was planned months in advance! How, at this late date, can your duties suddenly have become so pressing that you cannot even take a single two-day pass—only your third since you arrived, I might add?”

“Veja, do not make this any worse. Dukat asked me if I would be willing to sacrifice this weekend for an important update to the security systems. What could I say? I owe my promotion to him.”

“You mean to say that he gave you a choice? And you chose to do a favor for Dukat, rather than to spend time with me?”

Damar sighed, his patience waning. “Veja, that isn’t how it works. Please, I need your support.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Damar hoped she was reconsidering her reaction, which he felt was tremendously unfair. If she was going to be the wife of an officer, she was going to have to learn to accept certain things. A soldier’s duty was always to his superiors.

Her voice was cool when she spoke. “Fine, Corat. It is regrettable that you cannot come along with me, but—”

“What do you mean, come along with you? We will postpone the trip to a later date.”

“Oh, no, Corat. I requested this time from my superior, and he gave it to me. I’m not going to spend that time sulking around the settlement. I’ve always wanted to see Tilar.”

“Veja! Are you mad? You can’t go away by yourself, it is far too dangerous to travel alone.”

“Of course, I’ll bring Natima. She always has her weekends free.”

“Natima!” Damar scoffed. “She is hardly fit to ensure your safety! No, Veja, you’ve made your point that you are angry. I have apologized, but there is nothing more that I can do. Please, end this foolishness.”

“I accept your apology, Corat. But I am still going to Tilar. I’ll be sure to contact you from the vineyards, to let you know what you are missing.”

Veja ended the transmission before Damar could argue further, and he smacked his palms in anger against the surface of his desk. He decided that she was probably only trying to bait him. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of contacting her again to argue about something so utterly preposterous. He turned off his companel and went to bed, anticipating a sleepless night.

Miras lasted another week before she made her decision, a week of deep consideration, of working up the nerve—a week of terrible, relentless dreams. She dreamed now, knew she’d fallen asleep because she had to watch it all again, relive the nightmare. The Hebitian woman was gone; now there was only the hidden object, the murder, the twisted, smoking ruins of her homeworld.

Someone touched her, and she woke.

It was a stranger, the man in the seat next to hers. “I’m sorry to wake you, but we’ve gone back down into the atmosphere, and we’re approaching Lakarian City. The pilot says we’ll be there in just a few moments.”

“Oh, thank you, Mister…?”

“Raaku.”

“That’s right, I remember now.” They had briefly introduced themselves shortly after boarding the shuttle. Shortly after Miras had walked away from her old life, possibly forever.

The message of the recurring dreams had continued to unfold for her, although the images remained cryptic, violent, and strange. But she’d come to believe that the discovery of one of the Bajoran Orbs by a Cardassian would mean the end of their civilization—had come to believe it with all her heart, and that belief finally allowed her to embrace her insanity. She had no husband, no children. Her parents lived well outside the city, and she didn’t see them often. Her job was interesting to her, but not especially fulfilling…

And if I’m right about this—if this is a vision, a reality that will come to pass—then I have a responsibility.

She had spent many hours reading through the texts she could find on Oralius, on the Oralian Way—and while many were simple propaganda smears, she’d seen glimmers of a strange but interesting philosophy here and there. From what she could tell, the Oralians were simply spiritual seekers, not the decadent cult she’d always believed them to be.

The brief recorded message from Natima Lang had provided the final push. It had been waiting in her transmissions only the day before, and had confirmed Miras’s information about Gar Osen and the death of the kai—not directly, but clearly enough. Natima had been uncharacteristically grim, her expression solemn as she’d cautioned Miras not to continue concerning herself with affairs on Bajor. She’d added that going public with unapproved information was a punishable offense. When Miras had tried to return the call, she’d found that Natima was unavailable.

With clear evidence that there might actually be something to it all, Miras had acted. She’d packed a bag, made a few calls—and had then managed to scramble the Orb’s access code in the ministry’s database, making it impossible for anyone to retrieve the item without manually opening every single shipping container in the warehouse. All those years studying the ministry’s filing system, preparing for her life’s work, she’d learned a trick or two. There was a chance that nobody would learn of what she had done until someone actually attempted to find the Orb—but Miras wasn’t about to take the chance that she’d be so lucky. She had stepped across a line, a step she couldn’t take back.

The man seated beside her looked out the window of the transport shuttle, at the flat, endless desert stretching all around them, beautiful in the early morning light. “Have you seen the Hebitian ruins before, Astraea?”

“Not for many years,” said Miras, remembering that she was no longer Miras. She had taken the name of the woman from her dreams, whose face had become her own. She was Astraea now, and after what she had done—traveling under a false name, deliberately misfiling the Orb—she could never go home. She hoped that she would find her confirmation, out here in the desert. She hoped she hadn’t just thrown away her career, her life,for no reason at all. “I look forward to revisiting them.”

In the fairly spacious control cabin of the Bajoran carrier, Lenaris and Halpas were having a look at some of the old ship’s navigational systems. While Halpas confirmed that he had never flown this particular model, he was still familiar with most of her instruments. He pointed to a few components, explained their significance to Lenaris, who was feeling slightly overwhelmed with all the information he was quickly absorbing. This was different from studying old schematics—the knowledge Halpas carried included a great deal of information that never would have appeared in any manual.