Sarta wasn't the only one who knew about the Mother and its significance to her.

But she was the most recent person Tila had told.

Hopefully it was fresh in Sarta's mind. Hopefully she'd pick up what Tila had been trying to say.

She'd told Commander Drake, too. In one of the comms she'd sent him when she was much, much younger. But the chances of him remembering that were very slim.

She'd told him a lot of things in those early years, her comms probably more open and personal because no one would let her speak to and see the real man.

She hadn't needed a filter, she was effectively writing to herself.

She'd outgrown it, mostly, by the time she was fifteen, although it carried on a little longer than that through force of habit.

It had come as a massive surprise to her when she'd left the support house at eighteen to go to university to discover that he'd been corresponding right back.

Actually, really, corresponding.

When she'd first been settled in the support house, she'd sent him little notes asking him and his wife questions, inviting them to lunch or dinner. She'd practiced tirelessly making his favorite things.

She'd never had a response. Had long given up expecting one.

Until a file entitled Drake, Comms had been flicked over to her handheld as part of her file.

She was so dumbfounded, so hurt, she hadn't spoken to Tui Jard since.

The comms had been kept from her for such dubious reasons, the mantra of 'for her own good' had worn so thin, she couldn't see how Tui could ever make amends.

She didn't honestly know if she had it in her to forgive.

Time would tell, although it had been over six years now, and she realized she still hadn't let it go.

Maybe it was time.

She remembered the roaring in her ears as Tui had flicked over the folder. Remembered the defensiveness on her house mother's face.

“I'd forgotten about them. It was only because I was collecting all your information to give to you that I came across them. We decided at the time that your attachment to Drake could only do you harm. He was a reminder of what happened, and he would never be able to live up to the expectations you seemed to have of him.”

“Expectations?” She remembered the word was almost impossible to force out of her mouth.

“He'd rescued you. He was a father figure and a savior in one. In your head, he could do no wrong, but he was a normal man, and at the time, he was in particularly hot water because he'd disobeyed a direct order. Obviously he was rightly lauded for what he did, but there was still a technical process to go through. We . . . I . . . was afraid he wouldn't have the time to give you that you obviously wanted, so we decided rather than see you hurt, we would protect you from yourself.”

“I see.” She'd clutched her handheld in a tight grip, turned and walked out the door.

Tui had called after her, but she'd simply walked out to the street and called the next available EM, which had appeared within seconds.

She'd sent a friend to get the rest of her things.

Drake had read her comms, though, so it was just possible that Drake might understand her message if Sarta didn't. He'd asked her about where the smugglers hid while they were taking cover behind an air cooling unit on the Caliope. Special Forces had known the smugglers were using the Mother to go to ground, and she and Drake had talked about it a little while they huddled together.

She had sensed he wanted to leave her, to go back out and deal with whoever was shooting at them, but she had refused to let him go.

Not, she realized now, that he couldn't have pried her loose. She'd been ten, and half-starved. He'd been larger than life, and had carried her like she literally weighed nothing.

At the time, she hadn't thought of that, though. She'd felt able to hold him there with her will alone.

Too many people had been taken from her and she wasn't prepared to lose another. She'd held onto him for all she was worth.

He'd been resigned to it at first, and then he'd stopped trying to persuade her to let go after a while. He'd kept her with him, blocking her body, putting himself in front of her over and over again.

After his bravery, she still marveled that when it was over, it was touch and go as to whether he would come out of it with his career intact.

The cloud he'd had over his head made it all the more difficult to trust her new carers, her new people.

If she was so precious and valued, she'd wondered, why was the person who'd saved her in trouble for doing exactly that?

When he'd stepped down from his position in Special Forces, there had been such an outcry his commanders had to beg him to give a statement assuring the public he wasn't being forced out, that in fact they had offered him a promotion to stay.

He'd gone into the Protection Unit, and she'd hoped--it had been an unrealistic dream, she knew now--that he would have time to spend with her.

She was just one child he'd rescued amongst five hundred of them, and she could even see where Tui had perhaps been justified in thinking her expectations were too high when it came to Drake, but there had been no call to prevent her from reading the comms.

They had been everything she'd dreamed of.

She'd read them in her rooms at the university, and she'd tried to see them as she would have as a child. Tried to see if there was anything in what Tui had said, of his disappointing her, or not living up to her idea of him.

Maybe Tui hadn't read them herself. Maybe she'd had that much decency.

Even at eighteen, Tila thought his words were thoughtful and kind, and she wanted so much to go back to just after the rescue and start that conversation again.

She'd wondered at the time if she should send him a comm, letting him know that she'd just gotten his letters after all this time, but in the end, fear and shyness had the better of her.

She knew there was a chance he may not even remember her after so much time had passed, and the need she'd had for a relationship with a steady adult she trusted had come and gone.

She’d been an adult herself by then. Self-sufficient.

Perhaps that was what had hurt the most about Tui's betrayal. Tila's need for a trustworthy adult had been partly fulfilled by Tui herself.

It had taken time, but slowly, she'd given over her fear and her caution. She'd had to. She wasn't used to living in a state of anxiety, and so she'd given Tui her trust. And all that time, Tui had lied to her.

Tila scrubbed at her face.

Why was she thinking about this now? She'd put it behind her years ago.

Maybe it was meeting Nick. Then seeing Drake.

He hadn't forgotten her. He'd known her right away, she realized. Said her name. There’d been recognition in his face.

Maybe she should have taken her courage in her hands and contacted him after all. Just to say thank you again, this time as an adult.

Next time she saw him, she would.

If she got out of this, if she kept going down the intriguing road Nick had invited her to walk, she'd get that chance easily enough.

It was almost funny. She'd skimmed along above the surface for so long, wary of putting her trust in anyone, and just when she'd made the decision to go deeper, she'd been yanked away.

Nick was down on Parn right now, probably worried about her.

She walked over to the window, hoping for a glimpse of her adopted home, but there was nothing but darkness. After a while she worked out that was because the window was in dead mode. There was no seeing through it. It was switched off.

Dun pinged the door and then walked in, and she turned from the window to face him.

"Why's the ship in dead mode?"

"So we're off the radar. Can't find something that's dead."

Of course. Of course they'd hide themselves from detection by going dead.

So even if her clue had been understood, whoever was out there looking for her still had to find the ship.

The Mother was big enough to make that an impossible task.

For a moment, she felt drained and absolutely done.

Then she forced herself to stand a little straighter.

At least she knew the score now. There would be no sitting around hoping someone would come. She'd done that on the Caliope and she'd lost hope long before Drake appeared to smash down the cell door and scoop her up.

This time, she'd have to make her own escape.

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched Dun walk toward her. “So, how many of the crew have worked out Jirmain's put a huge target on all your backs?”

Dun dropped the tray he was carrying onto the table. “I really should have let you be. Left you hiding wherever you were hiding.”

“You really should have,” she agreed. “No matter what happens, no one will forget about this. The deaths in the city, my abduction. You'll be hunted. And if they connect you to Cepi . . .”

Dun stared her down, and the door opened behind him. No ping, Tila noted.

Jirmain strode in.

“What's going on?” he asked Dun.

“She's warning of doom and gloom,” Dun said, his eyes on her, not Jirmain. “Telling me the full force of Parn will be out for our blood.”

Jirmain laughed. “I hope so.”

Tila shook her head. “You're a smuggler. You've just reminded the Verdant String why they hunted smugglers down for years. And you've probably just revived the pastime.”

He sneered at her. “They'd be doing me a favor if they revive the smuggler patrols. Less competition.”

She saw Dun's reaction to his words, and moved to her left to keep Jirmain's attention on herself. “I thought you all supported each other?”

“I don't support the people who kept me as a slave. You see the trouble I've gone to to punish the people who sat around and 'discussed' what to do while I starved up on the Caliope? What do you think my plan is for the people who took me in the first place?”

“I'm guessing nothing good. But are the smugglers around today the same people who took you?”

“Not many, but some of them. And for others, it's a family business. The daughters and sons of the people who took me. You think I didn't think about what would happen when we blew up the Var Hub and Parn worked out it was smugglers?” He turned to Dun, but Dun's face was neutral again, the horror and loathing had been wiped from his face.

“Then my boy here,” he hooked an arm around Dun's shoulders, hugged him close, “found you and brought you to me. And now we have the Verdant String thinking about evil smugglers again. There'll be a push to shut them down for good. I've managed to get revenge, revive the guilt in the Verdant String, and clear out the smugglers in one move.” The smile he sent her was gleeful. He tightened his grip on Dun, then let him go.

“I want to leave soon.” He turned to Dun. “There's a lot of traffic out toward the pinch zone, but Zy got into the traffic logs and it looks as if things will slow down in a few hours. We'll wait for a lull, and then pinch out to the black.”

“If you have a safety pod, put me in it and drop me in a traffic lane.” Tila leaned back against a wall. “You don't need me anymore.”

“Oh, but I do.” Jirmain gave her another smile, and this one was more sly than gleeful. “If I let you go, I'm giving them back something they don't deserve. I want them to tear at their hair and berate themselves for losing you. I want them to suffer, to be guilty all over again. They'll never know what happened to you, and it'll haunt them forever.”

The look he sent her was chilling. He turned to Dun, and his expression changed from one moment to the other, serious and earnest. “Hine wants to speak to me about something important.”

He strode out.

Dun watched him go, and kept looking at the closed door for a long time.

“You didn't know he was getting rid of the smugglers,” she said.

He turned to her, eyes glittering, and then walked out himself.

She stared after him thoughtfully.

Jirmain might have got it just right in the way he'd played the people of Parn and the Verdant String, but he hadn't taken the reactions of his own crew into account.

Maybe he didn't care how they felt.

She had a feeling he soon would.