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slowly to the floor of the auxiliary chamber. His legs became rigid when they touched the floor, held him upright as his full weight returned. “But the fact remains that you need me in full working order—and that means as much deep-training as possible—”
    “It also means getting some rest.” She let go of the touch panel and took a step closer. “You look terrible.”
    He grimaced. “Thanks a lot.”
    “I’m serious. Take a shower, have something to eat and drink. Then meet me as soon as you can to discuss what’s going on—”
    A second wave of disorientation rushed through Roche as the Ana Vereine returned to real-space. She moved forward as Haid swayed, but he reached out with his new arm and steadied himself.
    “See?” He smiled wryly at his own achievement. “Give me another week and I’ll be wrestling clone warriors barehanded.”
    “I sincerely hope not,” she said, turning her back on him and walking out of the simulation room.
    “Any news on that front?” Haid asked, moving stiffly after her. Picking up a towel from a bench by the door, he wiped the skin of his upper body dry, where the active fabric of his absorbent undersuit was unable to reach.
    “None,” she said. “We’re still too far away.”
    “Unless the disappearance of the system is a related event.” Haid put the towel aside. “Does anybody know how advanced the Sol Apotheosis Movement was? Maybe they found a way to camouflage an entire system.”
    “I doubt it,” she said, although the possibility wasn’t one she had considered. “If they’d possessed that sort of tech, they wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily. They could have camouflaged their base and escaped the siege any time they wanted.”
    “Siege?” Haid shook his head. “A simple ‘no’ would have done, Morgan. You know history isn’t my strong point.”
    “Nor mine,” she said. “It took me days to find what little there was available. I’ve condensed it into a single file and placed it in the open datapool. You can access it later, if you want.”
    “Maybe.” The ship rolled beneath them again. Haid’s oddly mismatched eyes—one much like a monocle covering the entire socket, and the other, the recent addition, a crystal sphere where a normal eye would sit—lifted in surprise to meet hers. “The Box is not wasting any time, is it?”
    “It’s found something it doesn’t understand, and doesn’t like it.”
    Haid chuckled softly. “So trying to make me feel guilty about not responding is just your way of taking out on me your frustration with it .”
    Roche smiled in return, ignoring the gibe. “I’m heading back to the bridge,” she said. “When you’re ready, join us there. We could use your input.”
    The ex-mercenary nodded as she headed for the door. “At least it looks like we might have something to do, for a change.”

    * * *

    Haid’s parting comment pursued her after she left the rehab unit. Eighteen days on the run, fearing a COE Intelligence betrayal every step of the way; major surgery, followed by recovery and intense rehabilitation; a destination about which they knew little, except for the fact that it had nearly been destroyed by the deadliest warrior to grace the galaxy in two and a half thousand years—and Haid was complaining about being bored ?
    Roche didn’t need that sort of excitement in her life. In fact, an uninterrupted sleep would have suited her much better.
    A familiar mind-touch greeted her as she headed back to the bridge:
    
    Startled by the unexpected intrusion upon her thoughts, Roche missed a step.
     The reave’s voice carried with it a faint tinge of grief. Hardly surprising, Roche thought; the girl had had so little time to adjust to the death of her mentor, Veden. As his ward, she had earned the right to recite the ritual leave-taking during the ceremony on Walan Third, but she had declined, both reluctant to appear in