Dragon and Liberator

"Here we go," she said, lifting her hand to the hole in the duct.

With a surge of weight on her hand, Taneem slid off into the duct. "Hang on," Alison said, crossing to the packet she'd made of her comm clip and the equipment they'd borrowed from inside Harper's ventilation grille. Heading back to the duct, she maneuvered it through the hole. "Remember, as far across the ship as you can get," she reminded the K'da. "All the way on the far side would be best. And don't stop by any of the red-edged sections of duct—those are the emergency seals."

"Which could cut me in half," Taneem said. "Yes, I remember. Alison—"

"Be careful, and I'll see you soon," Alison cut her off. "Now scoot."

For a moment Alison could see a hint of gray scales in the gloom. Then, the scales stirred and were gone.

Alison returned to the lifepod's helm and sat down, giving her program one last check. All was ready. She counted out ninety seconds to let Taneem get some distance, then flipped up the protective cover on the drive control. "Incoming," she muttered, and threw the switch.

Instantly, the raucous clamoring of the separation alarm filled the lifepod. Getting up, she crossed to the door and slapped the release. It slid open, and she ducked out into the corridor.

The door slid closed. Three seconds later there was the multiple thud of explosive bolts as the lifepod blew free of the hull.

The decompression alarm hooted, and from all directions came the sound of multiple thuds as emergency seals slid into place across the various corridors around her. Over the alarm's bellowing Alison could hear the sudden hiss as her section was flooded with oxygen.

The hissing ended quickly as the damaged duct was sealed off and the sensors realized the corridor itself wasn't leaking air. Alison thought about sitting down, decided she'd rather meet Frost's men on her feet, and settled in to wait.

She didn't have to wait very long. Three minutes later, with another set of somewhat softer thuds, the emergency seals slid back into their slots.

And waiting behind them, their weapons drawn and ready, were a half-dozen men in Malison Ring uniforms. They spotted her, and at least three jaws dropped in expressions of stunned disbelief.

"Hello, Dumbarton," Alison said, nodding to the owner of one of those jaws. "Come on; come on. Frisk me or whatever you have to do, and then take me to Frost and Neverlin. They'll want to see me."

"Oh yes," Dumbarton said. His look of astonishment, she noted uneasily, was rapidly turning into one of malicious anticipation. "I'm sure they will."

She had thought they might take her to Neverlin's office for a more private chat. Instead, Dumbarton and his team escorted her to the Advocatus Diaboli's bridge.

After frisking her for weapons, of course, rather more roughly than they really had to.

They reached the bridge to find Neverlin and Frost with their angry faces already in place. Alison expected Frost to get in the first word, and she wasn't disappointed. "Well, well," he said, his voice darkly sarcastic. "Why am I not surprised to see you?"

"Oh, come on, now—be honest," Alison chided him. "There's no way you aren't surprised to find me on your ship."

"Fine. I'm surprised." Frost nodded his head toward Neverlin. "Shall we just kill her now?"

"She certainly deserves it," Neverlin agreed. His voice, unlike Frost's, was utterly calm and cool.

Alison focused past Neverlin's shoulder on the main ship's display. He was right, she had to admit. By his and Frost's standards, she probably did deserve to die.

The troop carrier was a mess. The deep dent her lifepod had made when it rammed into the ship's side was trailing tendrils of smoke and debris from a dozen different cracks in the hull. Through some of those cracks she could see a fiery glow, showing that some of the interior oxygen seals hadn't quite done their job.

"What I actually deserve is thanks," she said, looking back at Neverlin. "If I'd let you continue with this bonehead plan to kill Morgan's pet K'da, both of you would have ended up roasting over a slow fire."

"Really," Neverlin said. "And who, pray tell, was going to set up this roasting pit?"

"Don't tell us—let me guess," Frost said sarcastically. "You're working for the Patri Chookoock, right?"

"Hardly," Alison said, putting as much contempt into her voice as she could. "You know, you two are incredibly dense. Especially you, Colonel. You at least knew I'd been poking around one of the Malison Ring training centers."

"Is that what you call it?" Frost countered. "Poking around?"

"Also known as gathering evidence of misconduct by the base's commandant," Alison said. "But even without that, my name should have been enough for you. Alison? Malison?"

"Lock her up," Neverlin said, signaling to Dumbarton. We'll decide what to do with her after—"

"You blithering fools," Alison cut him off, glaring back and forth between them. "You still don't understand, do you? The Malison Ring was named for me."