Page 10 of Salvation
“Thank you, Administer.” He returned her bow, but wasn’t about to say he was pleased to see any of them, because he wasn’t. Whatever happened here this morning, these people would be ultimately responsible for uprooting him from the quiet life he’d chosen to lead and sending him to god-knew-where to do god-knew-what for god-knew-how-long.
“Please, do sit.” Ambassador K’nil said. He reached behind himself and grasped the end of his lengthytirik, the Anferthian ritual braid most adults wore, holding it out of the way until he’d reseated himself.
Nick glanced away so he didn’t get caught staring. The normal three-strand braids Alex wore when they were kids weren’t too difficult to understand, and French braiding he could grasp. But when his sister was in middle school she’d learned to do a four-strand braid, and that confused him. The whole fishtail braid phase…wow, yeah, he still didn’t get that one. But the Anferthian eight-strand ritualtirik...it was a wonder his head didn’t explode just thinking about it. How did they get all those strands to fold into each other so neatly? And for special occasions they’d weave in jewelry. Nick gave his head a shake. Yet another reason to be thankful he was a Terrian.
He lowered himself into the seat next to Sakura’s. Mrs. Beck handed him a plate with a blueberry muffin, then sidled out of the room, the wall reforming behind her. Sakura bit into her muffin and sighed, her expression one of bliss.
Ambassador K’nil’s grin reached his wide, black eyes. “Please help yourself to more, Disipula Yamata. Also you, Healer Bock.”
Pleasantries seemed like a colossal load of b.s., but lack of sleep might have something to do with his mood. “I’d much rather get on with this, your honor. We had a long night, and could use some sleep.”
Ambassador K’nil nodded. “As you wish.”
The chime softly announced an incoming viscomm. Ora reached over and tapped a data device on the table with the muffins. The wall behind her came to life with yet another familiar face. “K’rona?” The fearless Anferthian officer who’d risked her life and led a revolt to save Terr from her own government’s invasion.
Could all this secrecy have something to do with her group—the dissenters? If he recalled correctly, they’d been given sanctuary in an undisclosed location on Matir. After all they’d sacrificed to reverse the course of the invasion, protection was the least Terr and Matir could offer them. Every last one of the three thousand or so dissenters were marked for death by their own government. The Arruch didn’t much like traitors.
“Greetings, Nicholaus of Terr,” the dark-haired Anferthian dissenter said through her translator. An impish look flashed in her green eyes. “You appear to have had a bad encounter with a razor-horn hellion, my friend.”
An undignified snort escaped him. He’d heard about the Anferthian razor-horn hellion, a gargantuan version of Terr’s rhinoceros—and ten times more ill-tempered. “You should see the razor-horn.”
“Indeed? I look forward to hearing the tale.”
“K’rona is our liaison for the dissenters and will oversee your mission at the sanctuary,” K’nil explained.
Ah, ha. Now they were getting somewhere. “Mission? What mission?”
Administer Corvus cleared her throat. “At this moment we have a critical situation at the dissenter’s sanctuary.” The Matiran woman paused and rubbed her hand over her high, blue forehead, appearing to contemplate how best to proceed.
“Something is killing us, Nick.” K’rona’s tone didn’t hide her annoyance, or maybe it was disgust. Either way, it didn’t seem to be directed at him.
The sensation of a sinking rock settled in his gut. “Killing you? How?”
“It is a disease of some sort. We are not sure what causes it, or where it came from, but it has taken ninety-three dissenters in the last four months.”
Holy hell.Nick exchanged a glance with Dante over Sakura’s head. “Is that why you were so pissed off yesterday morning?”
Dante’s mouth tightened. “Among other things.”
Nick turned to the committee in general and spread his hands, palms upward. “Haven’t any healers been sent in?”
“No.” Ora looked as grim as Dante.
“Well, why the hell not?”
“We do not want to draw attention to their location, Healer Bock.” Corvus explained.
Sakura leaned forward in her chair. “But people aredying, Administer.”
“Sending in healers could alert the Arruch.” Corvus’s tone had turned defensive. Too bad the former administer, Navigand, had retired. He hadn’t been perfect, but at least he’d owned up to his mistakes.
“They have been quietly casting their nets searching for the dissenters and hoping the Unified Defense Fleet won’t notice,” Ora admitted.
Corvus nodded. “If they find them, a lot more people would die. We did not want another massacre on our hands. We needed an air-tight cover for any healers we sent in, and now we have one. And, two healers.”
They don’t want a massacre, so they let people die? That kind of logic might make sense to a politician, but not to him. A healer should have been sent in at the first signs of this illness. Not him, of course, butsomeone.
“What is this ‘air-tight cover’?” Sakura asked.
