4

Samica went back to her quarters, still not sure what today's events would mean. She'd just captured two Rebels, single-handedly, at that. Surely now Kolaff wouldn't need any further proof from her as to where her loyalties lay. She shook her head mentally as she remembered the whole incident. If the younger of the two hadn't called her 'ma'am,' maybe she would actually have believed them. She'd been nothing if not confused, but she had handled the situation well enough, and certainly Kolaff had to see that.

She'd just pulled off her boots when she remembered the box.

With a muffled oath, she jumped up, hastily pulling on her boots again, then remembering that using her comlink would be considerably faster. Quickly, she thumbed it on.

'This is Lieutenant Trey, give me someone in hangar 3a!'

There was a pause that seemed to last forever, then: 'Hangar 3a, Flight Officer Vatku spea . . .'

She didn't let him finish his sentence. 'Officer, Trey here. I have reason to assume there's an explosive charge aboard Canvenum. Check that at once!'

'An explosive charge?' he answered, confused. 'Who's that talking?'

'Lieutenant Trey, StarCom, and if you don't want this ship to blow up, I strongly suggest you do something now!'

That seemed to jar him into action, for there was a crackle in the line, and he was gone.

Samica sat back down on the bed for a few seconds, then got up again, finished putting on her boots, and went out, taking the turbolift into the hangar. When she reached the hangar level, flashlights winking red in the corridors told her that the area was on alert. A squad of detonite specialists ran past her, and she saw the entire hangar area was being sealed. She didn't know how effective these measures would be against the bomb the Rebels had brought aboard, but if the thing hadn't detonated so far, there was a good chance the explosives specialists would disarm it before it could.

She went back to the mess, which was on the same level, where more people than usual had assembled. Several minutes later, the flashlights stopped, and there was an announcement over intercom that a bomb found in hangar 3a had been successfully disarmed. Samica took a deep breath. It was not very likely that the Captain would praise her valour in a meeting in the briefing hall, but sat least she knew she'd already done two things right today.

'Not bad, Trey,' she heard someone behind her and managed not to jump. Commander Norden. 'Quite good, actually. Maybe you should ask for transfer into Intelligence.' He chuckled and walked away, leaving her to wonder if that had been the closest he could come to a compliment . . . or if he was picking on her again.

'Hey, congratulations, sir.' Samica turned and saw Officer Caller at the entrance, bobbing his head in a salute, which she acknowledged absent-mindedly. 'Well done.'

His sincereness cheered her up a little, and she gave him a half-smile. 'Thanks, Caller.' She nodded at him once again as she made for the exit. While she walked back to her quarters, she realised that, for the first time in days, there was not a single COMP in sight. It appeared that she had finally managed to win, if not Kolaff's respect, at least his acceptance.

Now if she could only figure out why she was feeling like crying.

OoOoO

Rhun had lost all sense of time. The only thing that he was certain of was that more than six hours had passed, and he did not want to think about what that meant.

Twice since they had locked him up here, a platter had been stuck through a small slit in the door, but he hadn't seen anyone for he didn't know how long. The first time, he hadn't touched the food, knowing he wouldn't be able to eat anyway, but the second time, he had been hungry enough to try it. Ironically enough, he'd found that it was better than his last breakfast aboard Liberty. Thinking about the Rebel outpost didn't help, and he had tried to think of something completely different, had tried to call back to his memory song lyrics or poems he had once known, then gone over to remembering line-ups of smashball teams whose matches he'd followed four years ago. He did all the sorts of things he had learned in Intel briefings and which he had hoped he would never need, trying to keep his mind occupied in order to cling to sanity. It was getting harder and harder as the hours went by.

He had not heard anything from the Sarge; no sound at all had managed to come through to him. He wondered if they were holding Blissex anywhere near. It didn't mean anything, he supposed, but he wished he could have talked to someone before they came for him. Doubtlessly, the Imps knew that as well. He wondered how much longer they'd give him. He didn't even know whether he should hope he'd get it over and done with now or be given some more time. They wouldn't get all that much out of him, he couldn't give them any coordinates, and he didn't know about any other secret operations the Alliance had planned at the moment. That might be good for the Alliance, but he didn't dare think about what they'd do to him if they didn't believe him. They'd know if he made things up, which might be even worse.

The door opened, and Rhun squinted against the light, his blood running cold as he saw two stormtroopers standing in the doorway. They reached down and pulled him to his feet without saying a word, leading him out of the cell. Poggler and Travers in the defence, number one and two – Taxon, number three, the Captain, Cude, number four. He'd made fourteen home runs in that season. Number five, Singh; Myrdal and Frenji, six and seven. Eight and ten, the Kissem brothers, Elrot and Arn.

Rhun wouldn't let himself think of anything else.

OoOoO

Lieutenant Bern Shelley stretched for the umpteenth time in the past hour and took another sip from the cup of caf at his elbow. Amazing the stuff hadn't already dissolved the cup. The last hour of a shift was always the worst; after you'd gone through strings of data for three hours, you couldn't get your eyes to focus on anything anymore. And most of the data reaching him was about as interesting as listening to a Gamorrean trying to tell a joke. Routine reports with the obligatory but horribly boring 'everything as always', the shopping list of some moff's daughter somewhere in the outermiddleofnowhere system, complaints about too few resources and spare parts from hidden Rebel bases all over the galaxy. Join the Empire, idiots, and you'll get all the resources you want, Shelley thought with a glance at his chrono. Twenty-five minutes until Lieutenant Hilgard relieved him. He was certain the expression of relieving someone had been coined on an Intentions base somewhere, maybe a hollow asteroid like this one, ten hours by hyperdrive Class One from anywhere, by somebody with more caf than blood in his system. Maybe I should have joined the Empire, but I bet they've got an Intentions branch as well. Poor souls. If they are anything like us, the war could be settled with the promise of a more exciting job, and everybody would be happy. No need to shoot at one another anymore. Now wouldn't that be nice.

The lieutenant's inner monologue was interrupted by a red light flashing on his screen, indicating an incoming Priority One message. Shelley's eyes widened as the short note scrolled over the screen, then he hurried to get it on to Relgim Sector Command. You didn't get a Star Destroyer presented to you on a silver platter exactly every day.

OoOoO

Samica returned from a simulator run tired and exhausted, wanting nothing so much as a shower and a good night's sleep. At least with Resolve in hyperspace, there were no patrols, but Kolaff and Norden still had their ways of running her ragged. Now, though, she was looking forward to eight luxurious hours without any duties, in which she would catch up on some rest. She could get by on six hours of sleep for a quite while, and had been grateful for it in the previous weeks, but she had enough for the moment.

She had just removed her left boot when a lamp on her comm terminal lit up. Incoming message. For a split second, she considered to pretend that she hadn't seen it, but her sense of duty won, and she called it up. The message was from Captain Kolaff. She scanned it, stopped short, read it again, and then once again.

Utterly confused, she sent back a request for confirmation, which came immediately, with several unfriendly words from Kolaff about orders and her having to obey them. She got up, put her boot back on, and stood in the middle of the small cabin for a few seconds, trying to make any sense of this. Who the hell wouldever consider sending a nineteen-year-old starfighter pilot who had never had anything to do with Intel in her entire life down into the detention block to interrogate a Rebel prisoner? She was StarCom, for heaven's sake! There were lots of people aboard this ship who'd been trained to do this very thing! She'd come to suspect that Kolaff was a complacent megalomaniac, but she hadn't realised the man was absolutely bonkers!

She couldn't refuse to obey, either. Her explanation might hold in any court martial in the Empire, but Kolaff wasn't going to let her live long enough to face one of them, she was sure. She had no choice but playing his insane game, no matter how furious it made her. And right now, she was starting to become really furious.

Fuming, she stalked out of her room, towards the turbolift that would take her down to the detention level. If she was going to make a complete fool of herself, she might just as well have done with it as soon as possible.

The detention block was a long-stretching complex with less illumination than the rest of the ship, doubtlessly to conjure up even more fears in its occupants than their situation had done already. There were Navy troopers on guard in each of the sections connecting the rows of cells, and they saluted when she passed them, so they had obviously been notified.

Samica stopped in the control room to detention block 241. A Navy trooper saluted. 'Sir?'

'I've been sent to interrogate the prisoner.'

The trooper nodded. 'Yes, sir. He has already been taken to interrogation room 241A. This way, sir.' He indicated a corridor ending in a heavy blast door. She nodded her thanks and walked up to the door, inserting the code cylinder she carried in her breast pocket, and the door whooshed open.

The little room was bleak, the only furnishing being a glow panel in the ceiling and a chair in the centre of the chamber. A stormtrooper stood watch by the door, saluting as she entered.

On the chair sat the younger of the two Rebels she'd captured. He was staring at the floor in front of him and did not react as she stood before him. He was tallish, with a slight build, short blond hair and light brown puppy eyes. He looked rather unremarkable, but that was probably true for any spy who hoped to pass unnoticed anywhere. Plastisteel restraints around his wrists, ankles and chest tied him to the chair.

There was something else in the cell—a shiny black sphere about forty centimetres in diameter floating just above the young man's head, whirring on repulsors. An interrogator droid, whose task it was to monitor the prisoner's physical condition, administer truth drugs or stimulants, detect any indications that the subject was lying and record confessions. Rebel propaganda also had it that they could be used for torture, but Samica knew that was against the law.

Her anger at Kolaff was replaced by rising helplessness with the situation. She didn't know how to lead an interrogation, and she didn't want to know.

The Rebel finally looked up at her, and she saw a hint of hope creep into the anxiety on his face. She set her jaw. He probably thought that a woman would be kinder to him than a male interrogator, but she wasn't going to give him that. He might not look like it, but he was still a terrorist, and it was her task to determine the degree of his guilt.

'You have been captured trying to infiltrate an Imperial vessel, and you have tried to smuggle a bomb aboard, which, if it had detonated, would have killed over four thousand people.'

He raised his head. 'Tell me something I don't know,' he said.

She threw him a sharp look. 'What's your name?'

He turned away and didn't answer.

'We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but you are going to talk to me.'

'If you say so,' was the reply.

She motioned to the interrogator droid. 'Truth serum,' she said, hoping that the droid would understand the order. She was relieved to see it did, hovering towards the Rebel, injector extending. He flinched, but with the restraints holding him in place, he could not get far. The droid administered the drug to the man's neck, then retreated again to its position a metre away.

Samica waited a minute for the serum to take effect. The Rebel's face contorted, and he fixed his stare again at the floor before him. She noted that his pupils were dilating fast.

'Where is the base your operation started from?' she asked.

He struggled hard, then said, 'Space.'

'Where?'

'Dunno.'

She leaned in closer, making him look at her. 'Which sector?'

This time, he managed to resist slightly longer, but finally he couldn't hold the word back. 'Suolriep.'

'Which system?'

'Dunno.'

Samica gestured at the droid again. 'Another dose. Tell me when he's at the limit.'

The droid whirred towards the young man again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

After a pause, she repeated her question. 'In which system is your Rebel base located?'

'Not a system,' he panted. 'Just space.'

'But near a system, certainly. Which one?'

He shook his head vehemently, and she looked at the droid again. 'Can he take another dose?'

The Rebel moaned, but on the droid's communications display, she read, 'Affirmative.'

The droid moved in again, administering a third dose, and this time the prisoner slumped down in his seat and passed out.

'What's this?' Samica asked sharply. 'He was supposed to be able to take another shot!'

'You didn't specify you wanted him conscious,' the droid answered.

Droids! Samica thought, exasperated. 'Can you bring him to again?' she asked.

'Certainly.'

'Do it!'

Again, the interrogator droid gave the Rebel an injection. He groaned as he regained consciousness, his eyes all pupils, with no brown left in them. He was mumbling something that sounded like, 'Number six, Myrdal, number seven, Frenji'.

'What's that supposed to be, a star system?' she demanded.

He raised his head with some effort. 'Hey, you still here, Lieutenant?' he slurred.

Samica folded her arms across her chest. 'I've just asked you a question. Was that coordinates or something?'

His mouth twisted in a grimace that might have been a grin. 'No. Left midfield of the Coronet Sand Panthers in '75 season. You ever watch smashball, ma'am?'

She took a step towards him, and he flinched. 'Now listen, Rebel, I think I've been very lenient thus far, but if you insist, I can just as w—'

Samica broke off when suddenly the ship lurched. She'd felt the engine sound change as it had left hyperspace, but the shudder that now ran through the giant vessel was nothing she had ever felt before. Just as she straightened again, looking about the room as if it might yield an answer, there was another tremor shaking the Star Destroyer, and she barely managed to stay on her feet. The stormtrooper had not been so lucky; he had lost his footing in a clatter of plastisteel armour, hurrying to get up again.

'Go out and find out what's happening out there,' Samica ordered the trooper. The man hesitated. 'Sir, I've been ordered to watch the prisoner,' he said.

'And I am ordering you to leave,' she replied. For a moment, she was afraid that he might refuse, but then he went out.

Samica returned her attention to the prisoner. The young man had cocked his head to one side and was watching her.

'Are you Lieutenant Trey?' he finally asked. 'The one Hide mentioned?'

She whirled to face him, staring at him in disbelief. 'Hide?' she asked.

'Yeah . . . Hide mentioned a woman who he thought was likely to defect, Trey . . . you are a woman, aren't you?'

She was hardly listening anymore. At last, here was everything falling into place. Hide had hoped to make her defect, so he'd spent that much time with her, trying to sound out how she felt about everything, and he'd expected her to disobey Kolaff's order to shoot at Bunny, the way he had done. He'd trusted her, and she'd failed him. Had failed him twice, the first time when she destroyed the freighter and the second time when she watched his murder.

You could push even an Imperial officer only so far.

She was sick of being pushed.

She was not going to fail him again.

Before she had any opportunity to rethink the decision she'd just made, she took her code cylinder from her pocket, and knelt down before the chair. The restraints opened, and she took a step back from the young Rebel, drawing her blaster and crossing over to the door. Just when she had inserted her code cylinder to open it, there was an explosion somewhere entirely too close to be comfortable, and she was flung against the bulkhead. When she got her bearings again, the lights went out.

There was no doubt now that the ship was being attacked. She had absolutely no idea who'd do such a foolish thing (though not too unsuccessfully, it seemed), but if she was going to get him out of here, that might just be to their advantage. The emergency lighting sprung to life.

'What—what are you doing?' the Rebel asked in utter confusion.

'Freeing you,' she answered, matter-of-factly.

He was staring at her. 'You're letting me go?'

'We need to get out of here quickly,' Samica replied, and she took a quick look outside. Then she remembered the sorry state he'd been in – something else she should not have done, and was determined never to do again—and came back. He was still sitting in the chair, too surprised to do anything.

'Can you walk?' she asked.

'I . . . guess.' There was more suspicion than astonishment in his face now. She couldn't blame him.

'Listen,' she said to him, '—what's your name?'

He eyed her cautiously, then obviously decided he couldn't do any harm by telling her. 'Van Leuken,' he grumbled. 'Rhun van Leuken.'

She nodded. 'Listen, van Leuken, I know you don't have any reason to trust me right now, and if it were the other way round, I probably wouldn't trust you either, but your choices are either to trust me and maybe get out, or stay here and certainly be killed. Your choice. But hurry.'

He studied her face for a few beats in the ruddy emergency light, then, finally, he nodded. 'All right,' he said. 'Lead the way. I'll manage. But I'm not leaving without the Sarge and Blissex, if they're still alive.'

'Blissex?' Samica repeated. 'You mean the engineer who designed the VSD? He's here?'

He frowned. 'You didn't know?'

'I am only a pilot,' she replied bitterly.

Van Leuken gingerly got up from the chair. 'You help me get them out?' he asked.

Samica hesitated. That would cost them time, but it was also the only chance she could see how she could prove that she meant it.

'Yes,' she said. 'There's a guard room outside. I can find out where they are held.' She holstered her blaster again. 'Wait here.' Then she was gone.

OoOoO

Rhun tried to get his drug-muddled mind to think. Damn, all this made no sense. Granted, Trey had been a lot more decent than he had dared to expect any interrogator would be, but this was just insane. He had the feeling that it had to do with the name Hide somehow, but he couldn't begin to figure out why. The splitting pain in his temples didn't help, either. He knew he should probably just send her to hell, rather than let her catch him off guard and make him talk about things he should have kept secret, but as much as he tried to get himself to see that, logically, it was sheer madness to trust her, his gut feeling told him something different. He was a man who went on first impressions, mainly because he'd found that he could trust his feelings, and right from the start, his impression had been that she was a person who kept her word. That, he reflected, did make sense, for if you had just a shred of honour left inside you, you just couldn't be an Imperial.

He made a few careful steps towards the exit. His knees still felt like pudding, but he hoped that would pass in a few minutes. He also wished he had a weapon, but on a Star Destroyer, he supposed that he was likely to find one very soon. He didn't have the slightest idea what Trey had planned—if she'd planned anything—but right now, everything was better than doing nothing.

Samica returned to the interrogation room several minutes later. She had found the guardroom empty, probably because the trooper on duty there had left to get help—against regulations, but that was fine with her right now. She had also found a glow rod, just in case the emergency lights failed as well. She tried not to think about any implications to her actions; she might just as well worry about that later.

Rhun had half-hid behind the chair and relaxed visibly as he saw it was her. 'Did you get the data?' he asked.

She held up a datapad. 'Yes, the computer over there was running on backup. Your sergeant is in cell 241.45, Blissex in 241.13.'

'You know where that is?'

'Yes. I've got a layout here.'

Rhun eyed her cautiously. 'I need a weapon of some sort.'

'We have to pass by another guard room on the way to Blissex' cell,' Samica replied. 'I'll see what we can do.' She was not very thrilled at the thought of having him behind her with a blaster rifle, but that could hardly be helped.

'Lead the way,' Rhun said, and she nodded, turning the corner into the detention block corridor. Just as they had left the interrogation room, another explosion rocked the ship, this one violent enough to knock them both off their feet. The emergency lights flickered and went out.

Samica brought out her glow rod. 'Are you hurt?'

Rhun got back to his feet a little shakily. 'I'm all right. I just wish I could think a little more clearly.' He shot her an accusing look.

Samica did not answer. He was right, of course, but they had more important things to do.

She came to a halt in front of the guardroom opening and peered inside. 'All clear,' she said as she went in. Rhun followed. The beam of her lamp illuminated a console with several dead surveillance screens, a vacated seat in front and an equipment locker on the side.

Rhun frowned. 'Where is everybody?'

She shook her head. 'I have got no idea. We had better hurry.'

Rhun grinned, and she looked at him quizzically. 'What?'

'Your accent. I thought that was one that existed only in the Holonews from Coruscant. I never thought people actually talk that way.'

'Well, you sound like someone from a swashbuckler holo.' She found the door to the equipment cache was locked and did not open with her code cylinder. 'Help me with this door, will you?'

Together, they managed to break the door open, and Rhun took out a heavy blaster rifle, some spare power packs and another glow rod. 'One or two of these might come in handy,' he mused as he packed a medpak as well.

'You know how to use those?' Samica asked when she saw what he was doing.

He grinned and saluted, Rebel-style, touching the fingers of his right hand to his forehead. 'Yes, sir. Trained as field medic, sir.'

She nodded at him, something like respect tinging her voice when she said, 'Very well. Let's see if we can get the other two out.' She finished securing her datapad on her belt and whirled when she heard footsteps coming towards them. Rhun was bringing up his blaster rifle, but she shook her head. 'Let me handle this.' She straightened her uniform. 'Hide behind the console, quick!'

Reluctantly, Rhun knelt behind the surveillance screens. 'No funny business,' he warned her.

She nodded. Two stormtroopers entered the room and stopped when they saw her. 'Sir,' one of them said.

Samica folded her hands behind her back. 'Where is the officer normally on duty here?' she demanded.

'Sir, we don't know, sir. We were sent to look for atmosphere leaks in the detention block.'

'Well, there are none here. And there is none on the left either—I came from there, looking for someone left here.' She paused. 'What's happening out there, anyway?'

'The ship's under attack, sir, but the damage is minimal.'

Yes, I can see that, Samica thought sardonically. But if that's what you want to think, go right ahead. 'I suggest you go look for the guards and tell them I need them in block 243.'

'Aye, sir,' one of the two replied, and they left the guardroom.

Rhun emerged from his hiding place. 'Not bad,' he said, acknowledging. 'Now, where is Blissex?'

'This way,' Samica replied, leading him out in the corridor again. Before cell 241.13, she stopped and tried her code cylinder. But the door was not powered and did not have a backup, not moving at all.

'I've got an idea,' Rhun said, kneeling down by the electronic panel and bringing out one of the power packs he'd taken from the guardroom locker. He carefully pried open the plastisteel casing and took out the power cell. Not knowing what to do with the casing, he put it between his teeth.

She looked over his shoulder. 'What are you doing?'

'Being creative,' he mumbled around the plastisteel in his mouth. 'Ah, hold this, will ya?' He held out the casing, and she took it.

'Learned this from one of the freaks in Equipment,' he explained while he linked the power cell into the control panel. 'Being creative, I mean.' He sat back from his handiwork. 'Try your cylinder again,' he said.

She complied, and to her amazement, the door slid open. She didn't have the slightest idea what exactly he had done, but it had worked.

Rhun looked inside the cell. 'Doctor?' he asked. 'Doctor Blissex?'

Samica lit the cell with her glow rod, and they both saw an unmoving form leaning against the bulkhead.

'Oh, no,' Rhun said and was at the engineer's side with one leap.

Samica followed closely behind. 'What is it?' she asked, concern in her voice.

Rhun brought out his medpak. 'I think they interrogated him a bit more thoroughly than you did me,' he murmured, scanning the scientist. Then he heaved a sigh of relief. 'Just passed out from exhaustion,' he said. 'Not a good prerequisite for getting out of here, but I guess a stim shot should take care of him.' He suited action to words and administered the drug. Blissex gave a feeble moan, and Rhun shook the old man gently.

'Doctor, we need to get out of here. I'm from the Alliance. We'll help you escape. My name's van Leuken, and that's Lieutenant Trey. She doesn't look very much like a Rebel right now, but I think we can trust her.'

The engineer got his eyes to focus on his rescuers and made a face at the light in Samica's hand.

'From the Alliance, you say?' he croaked.

'Yes, and we need to hurry. This ship's being attacked, which might give us a chance to escape, but there are still guards around here.' Rhun extended his hand to him to help him up. Even so, he had to support the old man, who was still shaky. At least Rhun felt his own strength returning after his ordeal, so there was hope Blissex would recover in the near future as well.

'All right,' Rhun told Samica. 'The Sarge.' The lieutenant nodded, and the three of them went to the next row of cells. Rhun helped Blissex to sit down briefly by the door, then knelt before the control panel to repeat his trick. Samica watched him intently. She knew how to fly a ship, and she could perform most standard repairs, but apart from that, her technical knowledge was restricted to the use of things she had to use—and always for the purpose they had been constructed for. She wondered who would think of using a blaster power pack to bring a damaged control panel back online.

Rhun nodded to her when he was finished. She inserted her code cylinder and typed in her code, and the door began to move—about two centimetres, then metal screeched on metal, and the door came to a sparking halt.

'Sithspit,' Rhun hissed as he shook it, but it would not move any further.

There was a movement on the other side. 'Rhun? Is that you?'

'Yes, Sarge. We're going to get you out of here, don't worry.'

'Who's "we"?'

'Lieutenant Trey and I, sir. Blissex is with us. The ship is under attack. Lieutenant, help me with this door!'

Samica joined him at the door and together they tried to pry it open, but it did not move a millimetre.

'It's jammed,' Rhun said, dismayed, as he toiled. 'From the explosions, probably. We need to get some tools—a fusion cutter—'

Samica bit her lip. To break open a blast door with a fusion cutter would take more time than they could possibly spare before they were discovered or the ship came apart around them.

'We don't have the time, I'm afraid,' she said.

He threw her an angry look. 'I'm not leaving without him,' he retorted, rattling at the door again, again, to no avail.

'Listen, kid,' the sergeant said. 'Get out of here—and what's more important, get Blissex out of here. This is what our mission was about, and you can still do it. He's bound to know a way out of here without meeting too many Imps. You risk the whole operation if you try to break this door open. Now go!'

Rhun shook his head in wild denial. 'No! We've come this far, and we can get you out as well. Come on, Lieutenant, let's try again!'

She shook her head in sympathy, but as she tried to help him once more, there was a deafening blast from somewhere inside the ship, as if to underline her and the sergeant's point.

Blissex raised his head and looked into the direction the noise had come from. 'That was in Engineering,' he said, his face white.

Samica nodded, gingerly touching the young man's shoulder. 'We don't have the time,' she said softly.

'No,' Rhun half-sobbed.

'Get out of here, kid,' the sergeant said, authority in his voice. 'You'll make it. Good luck.'

Rhun tried to say something else, but his throat constricted, and he couldn't get out a sound. Samica helped him get to his feet, then helped up Blissex. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

Rhun cast one more glance at the cell door, then made himself turn around by force.

'Let's get going,' he said hoarsely.