what you’re saying, you’re afraid Kad Minslok wants to use your research in the same way that the Republic does.”
Moon nodded. “That’s it. Exactly. Some part of me feels as if we’ll just be swapping one kind of gaoler for another.”
“And you’re proposing we bypass both parties and escape to another part of the galaxy?”
Her face brightened. “Why not? Why get mixed up in the whole Republic-rebel conflict at all?” She lowered her voice. “With the money Kad gave me, we have a chance for a new life, Srin.”
Moon realised the tone of her voice was pleading, but she didn’t care. There was an anxiety gnawing at her, a sensation she feared would become prophetic if they continued on their current path. She would have found the idea of surrendering to her feelings ironic if the situation weren’t so grim.
Srin shook his head. “I don’t know that I agree, Moon. At the moment, I feel we have less choice than you may think. While we were on the Velvet Storm , I picked up some interesting information.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one, it’s difficult to legitimately get from one system to another. There are random Republic sweeps, instant money trails generated whenever a large enough transaction is made, not to mention constant identity checks. If you’re thinking of moving to non -legitimate methods of transport, then we’re talking serious money, the kind that might look at two kilo-credits as just so much small change.”
Moon recollected Srin’s behaviour on the pirate ship – his illness and the debilitating side-effects – and narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were ill for most of the time on the Velvet Storm ?”
“’Ill’ doesn’t mean I lose my hearing, my love. And I’ve found that people talk a lot more freely when they think they’re around an invalid.” His voice was dry. “It’s as if, by losing my mobility, they’d assumed I’d also lost my intelligence.”
He winked at her. “But, to get back to our current problem, let’s say you’re right. Two kilo-credits might be enough to buy us passage to another sector, but what would we do then? Would we have enough left over to buy fake identities? Disappear to some remote place? Set up an early-warning security system in case someone stumbles across us? Escape again, if we need to? We’ll be out of money before we do half of that, and then we’ll be back where we started.”
“You have a point,” she conceded ruefully, after a long pause. “Our problem has always been that we haven’t known what we were up against until we were in the middle of it. And,” she added mournfully, “bearing that in mind, two kilo-credits won’t last very long at all.”
She twisted her lips, clearly unhappy. “So you’re saying we should trust Kad?”
“I say we should keep your idea in mind. Honestly, at the moment, I don’t think we have enough cash to finance the kind of escape you and I are imagining. If the chance comes for us to run off by ourselves, then I say we grab it. But, if we haven’t, then let’s see if we can negotiate something with this old research partner of yours. You never know, he might not be as inflexible as you think.”
Her smile was wry. “Unfortunately, you’re making way too much sense. As usual.”
He twitched his nose at her. “I’m like that. Sure you want to stick with me?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” Moon said. And she meant it.
Chapter Three
So Gauder was somewhere near them. Maybe.
That wasn’t much of a tip.
Moon scanned a map of Toltuk again, leaning forward as the small living-room display leisurely scrolled its way across the city. Beside her, Srin was easing back in the chair, his eyes closed. He had received his morning medication and the first jolt had already hit, essentially poleaxing him. Moon knew it was only sheer will that kept him conscious at all.
“It’s a very disorganised city,” she remarked. “Can you see that?