Kaplan strode out into the dusk-lit atrium of Sky Landing's conference centre, glad to have been dismissed for the day. The ear by his implanted tech rang like a grenade had gone off next to it. His psi senses whined, hypersensitised. Reporting back for the late afternoon session with the investigation committee had been a risk. Loaded with painkillers and relying on a nasal spray to prevent nosebleeds, he'd got through another couple of hours of grim reports and planning, but was now right on his limit.

Slipping through pockets of people finalising business and making plans for the evening, he headed for a quiet space near the atrium's multi-storey viewing window. Seven levels of meeting rooms and offices rose up on the west and south walls, their occupants adding to the space's overwhelming psionics. General business had wound down for the day, but with the influx of data from the returned gate ship and the teams who'd boarded the abandoned Xykeree barge, many people would work through the night on analysis.

He wouldn't be rejoining them in the morning.

Stopping before the window, Kaplan breathed past the knot in his chest. After his one-on-one with Shau that evening, the Rha Si Original would insist he stay on board the Silver Dawn to undergo his medical. Within the next twenty-four hours, he and everyone else would know the extent of his destabilisation.

He eyed the view, trying to tune out his pain and other people's fragmented thoughts. The evening light coloured the port's pale structures, turning metal and plex golden. In the haze, hundreds of shuttles and other atmospheric-entry–capable vessels slipped in and out of arrival and departure lines. Sun would be on one, heading back from the Dawn. She'd gone up for her med check and to see the family he'd so far avoided.

Kaplan grimaced. Dodging his mother's lunch invitation hadn't been his finest act. But Professor Dayne Gupta, Rha Si trainer, mid-grade empath, was a human lie detector when it came to her children and students. The second she saw him in person...

He shook his head, recalling his brief vid-call with her. She'd looked worn and pale. Too many months spent watching her eldest child fade. Saul was still unresponsive, hooked up to multiple machines.

Doing his duty. Allowing himself to be studied in the hope it would save others.

Kaplan watched another shuttle blast into the sky, watched it vanish into the void.

He didn't want his last act in life to be a slow, well-monitored death. He didn't want to feel his parents' desperation as he lost his grip on his abilities. Given the choice, he'd be out with the fleet, tracking down the rogue Xykeree and getting answers while he still could.

On that score, he knew how a certain aberrant port officer felt.

He looked toward the main shuttle terminal. Layer upon layer of landing platforms, swarming with small craft. Not all of Jinx's friends would be among the arriving survivors. She'd soon head back into the void—alone.

She'd make sure of that.

Clamping down on a curse, Kaplan eased out a breath. The woman had good reasons to reject his offer: his detainment of her; Shau's threats. But they weren't why she'd refused his help, why she'd taken that pointed step back.

A ripple of strong psionics. Another twinge of pain.

Kaplan turned to find a familiar figure striding toward him. Lieutenant Commander John "Atlas" Bergfalk, a second-gen telepath who looked like he could bench press a shuttle. Still in his combat gear, the Rha Si moved through the sea of suits and uniforms like the Grim Reaper. Shrapnel had nailed his black Zex armour. Bloody nicks and burns marred his square face and crop of dun brown hair. Eight hours ago, he'd led the Special Infiltration Unit that had boarded the abandoned Xykeree barge. He'd returned with the gate ship and gone straight into meetings. Kaplan had listened to the man's report with interest.

"Bergfalk," Kaplan greeted him. "Things got lively."

Atlas grunted and gestured to his superficially damaged face. "This is what happens when the roaches break their organic recyce protocol and leave clothes and tech on bodies. In this case, a homemade frag grenade. Went off as we shifted some bastard's remains into our cargo hold. Fortunately, the biohazard container the body was in took the brunt of it."

Kaplan remembered the grim visuals Atlas' team had provided. A larder full of clothed, decomposing corpses. Only biomatter should have gone into the soup. "The Xykeree were disposing of evidence, not harvesting organics."

Atlas nodded. "Something ugly forced them to abandon ship in a hurry. The Bullhead's key systems were fried. And there were a lot of dead roaches on board. Some blown to hell."

Kaplan thought of the fragmented exskels Jinx had seen, the Cetus raider on Tirus 7, and the scorp it had annihilated. "Could it have been an internal dispute?"

Atlas scrubbed his unshaven jaw. "Possibly. But mutiny isn't the Xykeree's usual MO. When the bastards move, they generally move as one. Hive behaviour. Talked to one of the anthropologists. One possibility is the ship lost its queen."

Kaplan considered that, nodded. "They lose focus, revert to instinct, start hunting prey indiscriminately."

"And with no leadership, there's disagreement." Atlas lifted a heavy shoulder. "It's a theory."

Kaplan leaned back against the viewing window. "Whatever the issue, they were thinking clearly enough to try and cover their tracks. Why didn't they trigger the barge's self-destruct protocol?"

"The ship's electronics were toast. No doubt the reason they evaced. The techs are trying to resurrect system logs to figure out what went on, but I'm not hopeful. Every key node and backup in the ship's e-systems got totalled. We do have a possible eyewitness, though."

Kaplan recalled the man's report. "The live body you pulled from the larder?"

"Yeah. Poor bastard's meat. Half-digested. He got dunked, but his upper body wasn't in the soup when we found him. Lungs were clear and functional. He's part of the reason we were recalled. The Silver Dawn's got the med tech he needs. But even if he pulls through, it'll be weeks before intel extraction is viable."

"Any ID?"

"He lost his ID pip along with most of the flesh on his left arm. He has old neurotech, but it's non-functional. It'll take time to track part numbers to an installer. Going by tissue breakdown, he got dumped in the larder within the last twenty-four hours."

"That's consistent with the timing of the aliens' clean up."

Atlas nodded. "Him and some of the other less juicy remains are probably from a vessel intercepted after the aliens' attack on Tirus 7. If the non-Xykeree tech we found stored near the Bullhead's starboard airlock is anything to go by, the roaches have made a regular habit of pulling small vessels in and stripping them of crew and other resources."

"That meshes with other intel."

"Yeah, heard about your witness and the blood she claimed she found." I know she's aberrant and unstable—Atlas switched to telepathy as the conversation strayed into Rha Si–only matters—but that part of her statement gels. What doesn't is that she inspected the whole vessel and didn't see the harvested tech. She likely to have doctored or manufactured parts of her report?

Kaplan thought of everything Jinx had told him—and what she hadn't. Possibly, but she quarantined the ship in the middle of a severe docking backlog. She wasn't out to make life easy for herself or anyone else.

Atlas frowned then nodded. I'd like to talk to this aberrant.

Kaplan suppressed a knee-jerk, negative response. Atlas didn't play games. The second-gen was a straight shooter only interested in the security of Coalition Space. No threat to Jinx. You'll have to track her down. Her involvement in the investigation ended this afternoon.

Atlas cocked a brow. I'm sensing subtext.

Kaplan skipped over Jinx's altercation with Shau; it wasn't up for public discussion. Ms Koel doesn't remember much of her time on board the barge. Given her medical history—or at least her father's—she was declared an unreliable source and dismissed.

Atlas frowned. Xykeree vessels aren't for weak stomachs or minds. Stress could've exacerbated her disorder, affected her memory. You sure there's no getting a read off her?

Sun and I spent three days in transit with the woman and had no luck. Qua-zi Ambassador Mu, Shau, and Regina Deladi, a new first-gen, concurred with our findings earlier today.

Atlas grunted. Your word's good enough for me, Kap.

Kaplan left that comment alone. If you want any extra intel from Koel, step softly. The dismissal of her eyewitness account hasn't left her feeling cooperative.

Atlas glanced to the thinning crowd. She's a low priority. The physical evidence we gathered on the Bullhead says enough. You been up to the Dawn yet? He looked back to Kaplan, a thread of tension rising in his psionics. I heard about Cal's kid brother.

Sun's on her way back from the Silver Dawn now. She'll have looked in on Tom and have an update. Kaplan met his friend's uneasy stare. Atlas knew what the situation meant for third-gens. He was also Cal Tarak's commanding officer and friend. You know which island Cal headed to on Sann Glyth?

No, just that it was one of the low-population, low-tech ones. Cal was all for a snoozy, man-versus-mosquito, beach holiday. Atlas slanted Kaplan a speculative look. I was surprised Sun didn't request leave to hit the sand and surf with him.

She's not one for snoozy or bikinis.

Yeah, full battle kit for that woman. Atlas nodded approvingly. She doing okay? Her and Cal...

She'd be happier if he was around to shoot in person.

Atlas flashed square teeth. Never got why those two danced around one another. For the sport, maybe. His smile faded. A lot of Rha Si being recalled to the Dawn. I've got to ask...

Kaplan gave him a bland look.

The other man sighed. You're a hard bastard, Kap.

Kaplan looked over his shoulder, out at the shuttle traffic. He'd soon be heading up to the Dawn. For the next twenty-four hours—if not indefinitely—he'd be dealing with issues other than rogue aliens, whether he liked it or not.

The time for pretence had passed.

He turned back to Atlas. It's not clear how much longer I'll be on the investigation team. He felt as much as saw the man's understanding: a hard heartbeat; sudden tension. You may need to find some answers for me. Six of my team are dead, and it's still not clear how their deaths are connected to these rebel ships. I don't want them forgotten.

No one's going to forget them or any of our fallen. The look in Atlas' eyes said he wasn't only talking about those lost in action. We'll both keep looking for answers.

Kaplan nodded, but he knew what answers his friend wanted him to go after.

The extended medical investigations that would require would have to wait.

Kaplan eyed the atrium crowd, the pressure of too many minds searing his hypersensitised psi receptors. Like Cal Tarak, he'd be given a few weeks' personal time when he was put on leave. He didn't plan to spend it on a beach, drinking beer. Nor could he spend it with friends and family, choking on their grief.

He needed answers.

He needed the quiet.

He'd be commandeering that ship he'd offered Jinx and heading into the void, with or without her.

A flare of hot psi. An uncomfortable, but overdue addition to the atrium's psionics.

Kaplan turned from Atlas to the transparent plex wall and security checkpoint that separated the conference facilities from the reception area. Sun was back, and looking less than impressed by life as she snatched up her belongings from a scanner's conveyor belt, a water bottle and takeaway sandwich among them.

Those items told him he wouldn't be dealing with his hard-nose Lieutenant, despite her service uniform and aloof stare. She'd just spent time with friends and family on the Dawn, no doubt getting hugged and cried over. She'd be in cousin mode, with strict orders to nag and feed him.

Pushing off the window behind him, Kaplan braced himself for the coming conversation. Sun's med check had to have gone well; he couldn't contemplate anything else. "Atlas, give us a minute."

The second-gen's stare said they weren't done talking. "I'll catch you on the Dawn." He headed off, giving Sun a wink as he passed.

Sun joined Kaplan, frowning as she handed over the food supplies. "What happened to Atlas?"

"Homemade frag left on a corpse." Kaplan uncapped the water and assessed her as he took a mouthful. "How'd things go?"

"Fine. But they've put me down for monthly check ups. An age thing. Long-range missions are out."

That verdict, while not strictly good news for her career, took a weight off his mind. Relief, however, wasn't what he sensed from his cousin.

Behind her cool expression, Sun's heart was breaking.

He took a bite of his sandwich and got it down without ceremony. He was about to have his appetite killed. The others?

Sun moved to eye the view. A few more have slipped into comas. Those who are conscious are in pain. Isolation from stimuli doesn't help for long. There's more to it than increased sensitivity and psionic overload.

Kaplan thought of his plans to head out into the quiet of the void. It wouldn't be a long-term solution, just a vacation as much as any beach retreat.

Sun exhaled. The current theory is their brains are reacting to their own signals, creating some kind of feedback loop. They're fighting themselves. Turning their abilities inward. Those who've manifested low-grade telekinesis have even had their implants migrate, damaging brain tissue.

Kaplan swallowed a bite of sandwich, acutely aware of the burn behind his eyes and the weak kinesis he'd developed in the past year. Cal's kid brother?

Tom's sedated. He was hysterical. His implant's been retuned to specs Ambassador Mu recommended. Everyone's hoping it was just the management tech falling out of sync with the neurological changes teenagers go through, but... Sun's jaw set. Reid, problems caused by bad tuning aren't usually that extreme. Her next glance burned. Cal needs to get his arse back to the Dawn, for his family's sake.

Kaplan eased out a breath, turned to watch the port's traffic. Cal picked a back-to-nature holiday package. Low-tech. He'll eventually get the messages left for him. It just might take a few days.

He shouldn't have gone to Sann Glyth in the first place, Reid. He should have stayed in hospital.

Would you have? Kaplan levelled a look at her. His cousin might be symptom free, but no third-gen could afford to ignore the facts. Right now, Cal's getting some nasty headaches, but he's still functional. He wants to live his life.

Sun didn't respond, just glowered out across the port city. Her psionics were too volatile to easily interpret, but Kaplan understood more than she'd want him too. She'd gone through training with Cal Tarak. Despite their work often taking them to different parts of the galaxy, they'd stayed in touch—got stupid drunk together more than once. Not something Sun did with anyone else; not something their non-psi colleagues would ever have believed—not of her or any Rha Si. But now, after Cal's diagnoses and subsequent absence, the mere mention of his name had Sun ready to pull a gun.

Her next words were delivered as bluntly as that bullet she clearly wanted to fire. When are you going up for your medical? You've been dodging it.

Excuses burned up Kaplan's throat. He swallowed them. Like with Cal, Sun would never forgive him if he tried to protect her from the truth. I know what the outcome will be, Sia.

Her psionics spiked. Then flatlined—shock. They surged again as she sucked in air, and the pain of it locked his spine.

It took teeth-grinding effort not to react.

Sun turned to face him. How long?

He breathed through the pain: his and his cousin's. Long enough to be sure. She didn't need to know how many missions he'd completed with his brain on fire. And save the lecture, Sia. I had good reasons for not telling you sooner. Like the fact her reaction wouldn't have allowed him to run missions with her. The Far Scout Phantom would've been too small a vessel for him to find respite from her grief.

Sun stared at him. He felt it when reality broke through her denial.

A wave of nausea—hers.

His stomach clenched. His heart rate went erratic. His plans to take personal leave, to spend that time alone solidified. With his current level of empathic control, he couldn't be around anyone with a strong emotional attachment to him.

You check on Saul for me? He pointedly shifted topic.

Sun closed her eyes, grabbing back control. When she opened them a second later, her stare was steady, but still burned. Your brother is the same. Sleeping Beauty. Lost more weight, maybe... She shook her head, looked back to the darkening sky. You need to see him yourself, Reid.

I'll shuttle up tonight.

You better. Your parents think you're dodging them—which you are. Sun swung back to face him, eyes gold fire. I don't care how good your reasons were. How could you not tell me you were having problems? I could have—She broke off, her attention cutting to something over his shoulder. Fury got yanked back. Irritation took its place. I thought we were done with that aberrant pain in the arse.

Kaplan followed her stare. Jinx stood waiting at the entrance to the conference facilities, an overstuffed bag over one shoulder. The streak of cobalt was back in her hair. Torn, black, retro synth jeans covered her slim legs. A rough, studded jacket hung open, exposing the yellow "Ammo Depot" band motif on her oversized, grey singlet and more than a hint of fluro green bra. Security staff were sliding her squint-eyed looks, some of them not strictly professional. With her rebel stare and a smirk that promised trouble, the woman packed a punch for her size.

Her inked eyes locked on him, giving his system a jolt. A jerk of her head made it clear she wanted to speak to him.

He didn't flatter himself by thinking she was there to follow-up on anything personal. He'd felt her bone-deep aversion to even a temporary alliance—intimate or otherwise. He'd accepted that ... mostly.

He took a sip of water, eyeing her. She'd be after information, getting ready to head off planet. Reiterating his offer to help would no doubt be a waste of time.

Ignore her, Reid. Sun's mental voice hummed with impatience. If you haven't already got a brain bleed, she'll give you one.

He kept his eyes on Jinx, glad for the distraction from other matters. Is it the headache she gives you or the fact you can't force her obedience that makes you resent her?

She's disrespectful and undisciplined. Sun abruptly turned to punch him in the arm—hard. Don't go there. At his sideways glance, she bared her teeth. I know that look in your eye. If you've got an edge that needs working off, go blunt it with one of those shiny new first-gens your grandmother keeps parading in front of you.

The mention of Shau killed the last of his patience. I'm not looking for nice or long term, Sun.

Reid—

Sia, neither one of us can afford to bury our head. If you need or want to do something, go do it. He tossed the remains of his drink and sandwich into a nearby recyce bin. You might like to think on that before Cal returns.

Leaving his cousin to snarl at his back, he headed for security. He expected to face another dissatisfied female, but as he got closer, he saw wariness rather than temper in the dark eyes tracking him.

Not a surprise given Shau's threats.

So, why was Jinx back, skirting the edges of the dragon's den?

He signalled for her to head through security then directed her to the nearest empty meeting room.

She entered ahead of him and dumped her bag on the room's table. Turning, she skimmed a look over him. The awkwardness from their last encounter took on an acute edge. Hard words had been said ... and absolutely nothing resolved. "You look beat, Kaplan."

An understatement. He closed the door, wishing it could cut out more than audible noise. "What do you want, Jinx?"

"Still pissed?" Her lips curved, but the sprint in her pulse contradicted that seemingly easy humour. "It was just bad timing. Nothing personal. You know how it goes."

He leaned back against the door and folded his arms. "This the conversation you want to have?"

Her smile faded. Her abruptly sober gaze reminded him not to underestimate her like others had. The black eyeliner, sneers, and authority issues were smoke she liked to blow in people's faces.

"You're right. It's not." She leaned back against the table and eased her hands down the torn, form-fit denim hugging her thighs. "First up, thanks for the data. I tracked down a number of people who are important to me."

"But not everyone you're looking for."

"No."

"And you're not here to take up that offer of a ride."

An edgy spike in her psionics. Then a wry glance. "There'd be too many strings attached—and they'd get tangled to shit, and you know it." She resettled against the table and crossed her arms. "I'm just here to return the favour you did me. Hand on some information I came by."

"From one of your Tirus 7 contacts?"

"Let's call it an anonymous tip and move along. Feel free not to mention my name either."

In other words, whatever intel she had, she didn't want to be connected to it or its source. This face-to-face visit was about avoiding coms, nothing else. "Jinx, you know if what you give me turns out to be important, it'll get looked into thoroughly." He'd give her one chance to sidestep whatever trouble she was courting.

She rolled her eyes. "Rules were bent, Kaplan."

"I'll do what I can to keep you out of jail."

"That's a possibility, you know."

"The intel worth the risk?"

She snorted, bleak humour darkening her gaze. "Kaplan, some kind of locked room is in my future regardless."

He let his silence answer for him until her amusement faded. "You might have limited interest in your own welfare, Jinx, but I have no plans to help you rush fate."

She looked away to the meeting room's frosted plex wall, to the glow of the setting sun behind it. Her drawn out sigh ended with a faint grimace. "Relax. It's not that bad. Just some creative delegation."

"How creative?"

She lifted a shoulder. "When I found that blood on the barge, I didn't think anyone would approve my warrant request before hell froze over. And I didn't think we could afford to wait that long, so..."

"You freelanced the job." Kaplan shook his head. "Rules, Jinx. You need to learn to follow them."

Her cocked eyebrow said everything about what she thought of that advice. "Want to know the results?"

He clamped down the urge to lecture. "They confirmed the blood was human."

"Kind of."

He narrowed his eyes. "Meaning?"

"Our roach victim was some kind of genetic alterant with alien DNA. The foreign genes couldn't be matched to a known species, but I'm guessing you'd have access to better databases than those of the lab I used. Also, the tox screen was totally insane: wicked psychotropic cocktail like I've never seen before. The guy had to be more than off his face. I'm picking barely functional, trending toward dead."

Kaplan pushed off the door. "You have the report?"

She stood and transferred a copy to his com with a quick tap. "It's pretty messed up. I'd blame lab error or sample contamination, but the freelancer I used isn't an amateur."

Kaplan opened the report up and...

His world shifted.

For an instant, his head was silent. No awareness of anything but the words and images before him.

Then a deep dread settled inside him.

"I know these results don't really explain anything about the attack on Tirus." Jinx peered at his com. "But I figured you should know, even though that toxic bitch Shau probably won't give a shit or even believe them."

"She'll give a shit." His voice came out hoarse.

Jinx jerked her head up. "These wacko results mean something to you?"

He stared at the DNA analysis. He'd seen similar before, but he could be wrong. He wasn't an expert.

He needed one. Urgently.