Reclamation

But when she spoke, it was Aria's confident voice. "A comet can be located in or near the MG49 system. The U-Kenai can intercept it and use the first level drive to drive the nose of the ship into the comet. The heating vents in the U-Kenai's prow can be used to hollow out a cavity in which the majority of the ship can be embedded. Thrust applied from the second level drive can push the comet, and the U-Kenai with it, into the atmosphere. The particulate tail of the comet will hide the thruster output. The shell from the comet will provide resistance to the burn of entering the atmosphere and a cushion for a semicontrolled crash. Any satellites observing this occurrence will record a simulation of a natural phenomenon."

Her hand jerked, dropping the stone back into her lap.

"That's insane," said Eric. "That's absolutely insane."

Aria let her head drop backward until she was staring up at the ceiling. It was only then Eric realized she was breathing like she'd just run a marathon.

Without even thinking, he jumped to his feet and laid his hands on her shoulders, reaching out with his power gift to loosen her chest and speed her recovery. The whole time he was far too aware of the tingling warmth of her skin and the depths of her eyes as she looked up at him.

Nor did he miss the fact that he had forgotten to flinch from touching her.

Eric drew his hands away, now winded himself, and poured some cold tea from the pitcher on the table.

"How do you know it's insane?" Aria sat up straighten

Eric swigged the tea and made a face at its rancid taste. "Because it is. I've never heard of anything like it even being attempted."

"I didn't tell you all of it." The amused tone crept back into her voice.

"What more is there?"

"That if it worked, it would only work once." She leaned forward. "And that the ship would most certainly be unusable afterward."

Eric stared into the cup. "Now it sounds a little less insane."

"It is the only way your"—she waved toward the comm board—"ghost box knows that could work." Her eyes narrowed. "This despised one is waiting for my Lord Teacher to inform her he refuses to do this."

"You'll wait the dark seasons through." Eric dropped the cup onto the table. The puddle he had spilled yesterday had dried, leaving an uneven amber stain on the tabletop. "I only ask that Aria Born of the Black Wall does not ask me why I am doing this." He spread his fingers out so that he could see the backs of his hands. "Because, and the Nameless hear my words, I do not know."

"It's all right." She took his naked hand in her scarred one. "It's enough that Eric Born is doing this."

He looked up at her deep eyes. "I hope so, Aria Stone. I truly hope so."

He felt her work-roughened palm against the soft skin on the back of his hand. He watched her breathing with a deep, sudden fascination and felt the warm pulse of his erection begin. She must have realized what was happening in him, but she didn't release his hand.

He kissed her. Her mouth stiffened, startled, then puckered, as she thought to pull away, then softened to answer his gesture, his entreaty.

This is insane too, part of him said. He didn't care. She was pressing her body against him so he could feel every centimeter of her, as full of desire as he was, as lost, as scared, as crazy as he was.

For now, there was nothing else in the universe.

13—Section One, Division One, the Home Ground, Hour 11:13:25, Planet Time

"It is you who has set this work to my hands. I will not fail. It is you who has set my eyes to these sights. I will not look away. I am a child of the Lineage and through me the Lineage shall be brought home."

—Fragment from The First Grace, the Rhudolant Vitae private history Archives.

"Need personnel for a thorough survey of the vaults before we begin sealing the walls…" Even though it came through her translator disk, Historian Maseair's voice was barely audible under the noise around Avir.

Contractor Avir plucked two more greasy oil lamps out of their alcoves in the curving walls of the "Temple." "Record authorization and time stamp," she said through gritted teeth as she carried the filthy objects over to the flash disposal unit, sidestepping the Beholden who carried the programmer for the drones cleaning the ceiling.

"Anything else?" She dropped the lamps into the disposal's open mouth and, as the hatch closed, felt an irrational satisfaction in knowing they had been reduced to ashes faster than she could blink.

The initial plan had been sound; the engineers would string fiber-optic threads over the stone and plaster supports already in place and cover them all with optical matter to make a usable workspace. Eventually the supports could be replaced with more durable steels and polymers.