Page 4 of Alien Burn

Tori looked from him to Dhomhes.

“What?”

Olmed's eyes had gone to the case in her lap.

“The tribunal that banished me moved fast,” he said. “I gave them reasons. I know that. But enough to send me away forever?” He looked up. “Would they have done it for a piece of rock?”

Dhomhes had no answer he liked.

“I don't know.”

“You think it's possible.”

“I think someone paid a great deal for something you couldn't identify. I want to find out why.”

Olmed nodded once. He was rubbing his thumb against the table now, over an old burn mark in its surface.

Dhomhes took out his comm and sent him a private contact route.

“If you remember the foreman's name, the survey date, anything about the broker, send it directly to me.”

“And you'll tell us what you find,” Tori said.

“Yes.”

She studied him. He allowed her the time.

“Good.” She stood, tucked the case under Olmed's arm, and came around the table.

Dhomhes rose too, expecting another warning.

She hugged him.

His hands hovered uselessly over her shoulders. Across the table, Olmed's mouth twitched.

“Thank you,” she said against Dhomhes's jacket. “For letting him choose.”

He patted her back once, carefully. Across the table, Olmed was still smiling. When she released Dhomhes, she went straight back to her mate.

Dhomhes left them with the case in Olmed's hands.

In the freight corridor, a loader rolled past carrying stabilized citricite. The operator stopped at a marked line to check the restraints before proceeding. Dhomhes waited until the man finished, resisting the familiar urge to examine the fastenings himself.

His father's safety procedures. Every container, every transfer.

He had been eight when the accident killed his mother. He could still remember Ruthak coming home in work clothes, the white dust in the creases around his eyes.

The loader moved on. Dhomhes went to his waiting shuttle.

“Back to Kantenan?” the pilot asked.

“Yes.” He took his seat and brought up the old survey records. “And tell me when we're within range of the Protectorate network.”

His father's crews would know where to start looking.

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DHOMHES