Chapter 148 · Safehaven I

Sembla, their drop off point, appeared first as white.

Not the clean white of cloud cover, but fractured expanses of ice broken by dark water and chains of black volcanic islands. Four moons pulled continually at the planet, keeping the crust restless; even from orbit Eli could see thin columns of steam rising where geothermal vents broke through frozen ground.

Their coordinates took them far from the inhabited equatorial regions. Far north. The Faded Glory descended through low cloud into a landscape of snow, basalt and shallow slate-grey sea. Ice clung to the sheltered edges of the islands, while farther offshore the water remained open, stirred constantly by tides and heat from below.

Eli leaned toward the viewport. “I thought Rebel bases were supposed to be in pleasant tropical forests.”

Stent adjusted their descent vector. “That would make them easier to find.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The beacon Dara had given them led toward what appeared at first to be an abandoned mineral survey station built into the side of a low volcanic ridge. Half the structures were buried under wind-packed snow. The rest had been painted the same dull grey as the surrounding rock. Nothing about it announced military occupation. That was presumably the point.

Only when they were less than three clicks out did a tight-band signal reach them. “Faded Glory, maintain current heading. Reduce speed to approach minimum.”

Eli obeyed.

A second transmission followed. “Landing marker will illuminate in ten seconds.”

A strip of blue lights appeared below them.

Stent glanced at Eli. “Efficient.”

“I knew you'd approve.”

They landed between two snow berms with the wind pushing hard against the hull.

The cold entered the ship before the ramp had fully lowered.

Nemi stopped halfway down it. “Oh.”

Eli, behind her, nearly walked into her back. “What?”

“This was not adequately described.”

“You were told it was a polar installation.”

“That is a phrase. This is weather.”

Dara stepped around both of them, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “You'll survive.”

“You say that because you're wearing three layers.”

“I planned.”

Nemi looked betrayed.

Stent came down last, carrying one of the smaller cargo cases as though the wind were a minor administrative inconvenience.

Behind him, Tee stopped at the top of the ramp. His dome rotated. He emitted a low, deeply suspicious tone.

Eli pointed at him. “You're staying aboard.”

Tee answered immediately.

“Yes, because there's snow.”

Another series of beeps.

“And ice.”

A sharper one.

“And salt water. Exactly.”

Tee backed away from the ramp without further argument.

“At least somebody on this ship has survival instincts,” Nemi muttered.

They had been expected. Three Rebels emerged from the nearest structure with a cargo sled, followed by a broad-shouldered man in a heavy insulated coat over Alliance fatigues.

Dara recognized him first. “Colonel.”

The man nodded to her. “Venn.” Then to Nemi. “Kade.” His attention shifted to Eli and Stent. “Vanto. Stent.”

So Dara had sent their real identities ahead. Eli wasn't certain how he felt about that, but there was little point objecting now. “Colonel,” he said.

“Rellan Cade.” The introduction was brief. The cold discouraged ceremony. “Let's get you inside before somebody freezes something important.”

Nemi started forward immediately. “I like him.”

The unloading took less than twenty minutes.

What had seemed like a significant amount of cargo aboard the Faded Glory disappeared quickly once six people, two repulsor sleds and a proper loading crew were involved.

Rebellion, Eli was increasingly discovering, consisted largely of moving extremely ordinary objects to places where someone desperately needed them.

The last case left the cargo bay. Dara checked it against the manifest and signed the transfer. “That's everything.”

Eli looked around the suddenly spacious hold. “I'd forgotten we had a floor.”

“You'll fill it again,” Dara said.

“Probably.”

Nemi wasn't helping. She was sitting cross-legged several meters away, completely absorbed by Ch'eth. Stent had finally allowed her to hold him that morning. Briefly. Under supervision. And with so many instructions that Eli had begun to suspect Stent could have produced a written handling protocol if challenged. Nemi had followed every one of them. Now Ch'eth rested across her forearms, body long and warm against her jacket, pointed muzzle moving continuously as he investigated her sleeve.

Nemi looked radiant. “He likes me.”

Stent, standing nearby, said, “He is tolerating you.”

“He climbed onto me.”

“You had food.”

“That still counts.” Ch'eth started upward. Nemi froze immediately. “Stent.”

“I see.”

The kivren climbed from her forearm toward her shoulder with the easy confidence of something that had discovered during the previous week that humanoid bodies were simply another form of terrain.

Nemi's eyes widened. “Can I move?”

“No.”

“I wasn't planning to.”

Ch'eth reached her shoulder, sniffed her hair, apparently found nothing interesting there and turned around.

Stent held out one hand. The response was immediate. Ch’eth gathered himself and jumped. Nemi barely had time to react before the little animal launched from her shoulder and landed against Stent’s chest, claws catching neatly in the fabric. Stent brought both hands up on instinct, steadying him before Ch’eth could slide. The kivren immediately began climbing toward his shoulder as though the transfer had been entirely intentional.

“Chet! That was rude.”

Stent did not correct her.

He had tried, repeatedly, during the first few days after Ch’eth acquired a name. Nemi was perfectly capable of producing the Cheunh consonant when she concentrated on it. She simply never did when addressing the animal, and somewhere around the tenth correction Stent had apparently concluded that continued intervention was an inefficient use of effort.

Ch’eth, for his part, answered to both.

“That was favoritism,” Nemi said.

“It was familiarity.”

“He abandoned me.”

“He jumped less than a meter.”

“Emotionally, Stent.”

Stent adjusted Ch’eth in his hands. “I see.” His tone made it very clear that he did not.

“Oh, come on.” She looked offended. “All right. Fine. I'm glad I got to hold him once.” She scratched one finger very gently on top of Ch'eth's head when Stent permitted it. “Goodbye, tiny criminal.”

Ch'eth tried to bite the end of her glove.

Nemi looked delighted. “I'll miss you too.”

The base itself had been warmer than expected.

Not comfortable, exactly, but geothermal heating ran beneath much of the original survey complex, and the Rebels had restored enough of it that the central corridors remained well above freezing.

The walls still carried faded Imperial industrial markings.

Some had been painted over.

Others had simply acquired Rebel notices, wiring diagrams, duty rosters and handwritten-looking digital displays mounted directly over them.

By the time Dara and Nemi had formally transferred back into Alliance custody, Eli had begun to realize how strange the Faded Glory was going to feel without them.

Two weeks was not long.

It was apparently long enough to develop routines.

Nemi had taken over one corner of the common room whenever she worked. Dara always drank the first caff of the morning slowly enough that Eli had begun accounting for her presence when he made it.

Four people had developed meal rotations. Tee had acquired two additional humans to complain about.

And now they were gone. Almost.

Dara stopped beside the ship before heading inside for debriefing. “I hope you find your navigator.” There was no emphasis on the word.

That somehow made Eli more suspicious of it. He smiled. “So do I.”

Dara held his gaze for one second longer. Then nodded. “Safe flying.”

“You too.”

Nemi lingered for a moment beside Dara, then looked back toward the Faded Glory. She seemed to consider saying something more to Eli. Instead, she pointed at him. “If you ever get tired of pretending Chet isn't a pet, send me a holo.”

“Why me?”

“Because he won't.” She pointed at Stent.

Stent, holding Ch'eth securely against his chest beneath his coat to protect him from the cold, said nothing.

“See?” Nemi grinned.

Then she and Dara followed the others into the base.

Eli watched them disappear through the pressure door. “Well.”

Stent looked at him. “The ship will be quieter.”

“Considerably.” Ch'eth pushed his head out from beneath the edge of Stent's coat. Eli looked at him. “Not necessarily.”

Colonel Cade found them an hour later.

They had expected the promised navigation package. They got that.

A datachip sat on the table between them containing updated route closures, Imperial patrol zones, local traffic advisories and reports assembled from Rebel cells across several sectors.

Eli wanted to take it back to the ship immediately and spend several hours with it.

Instead, Cade placed a second datachip beside the first.

Eli looked at it. Then at him. “That one looks ominous.”

Cade smiled faintly. “It's a job.”

Stent's expression remained neutral. “Specify.”

“Small delivery. One sealed case. Communications encryption hardware and updated authentication modules for a cell farther Coreward, on Stygeon.”

“How far off our route?” Eli asked.

“Barely.”

That was a dangerous word.

Cade brought up the route projection. The destination sat near enough to their planned path that Eli couldn't immediately reject it on logistical grounds.

“That will take you along the corridor to Botajef,” Cade said. “Probably less, depending on traffic.”

“No passengers this time?” Eli asked.

“No. Everything remains powered down until delivery.”

Stent studied the route. “What is the risk?”

“Routine Imperial commercial presence. Nothing like the security you just passed through. Your registry is good, your ship is clean, and right now nobody associates either of you with us.”

Eli looked at the second datachip again. This was how it happened. One reasonable request at a time. Nothing individually absurd. Nothing worth refusing. A passenger transfer here. A crate there. A short deviation in exchange for information they genuinely needed.

He glanced at Stent. Stent was still studying the map. Then he said, “Acceptable.”

Eli exhaled through his nose. “Yeah.”

Cade looked between them. “That's a yes?”

“One delivery,” Eli said.

“One delivery,” Cade agreed.

They discussed it properly once they were back aboard.

Privately.

The ramp was sealed. Ch'eth was in the cargo bay investigating the now-empty floor with intense interest. Tee had gone with him, officially to inspect the unloaded cargo restraints and unofficially because he remained convinced the animal was plotting something.

Eli sat at the common-room table with the Rebel navigation package open in front of him.

Stent stood opposite.

For several minutes they said nothing. The route map expanded between them. Red sectors. Amber advisories. Closed corridors. Unconfirmed checkpoints. Military movements. Refugee traffic.

The galaxy looked worse every time somebody gave them newer information.

Eli finally leaned back. “We need to be careful.”

“Yes.”

“I don't mean with the delivery.”

“I know.”

Eli rubbed his thumb along the edge of the datapad. “This is the third time.”

Stent looked at him. “We need something. The Rebellion has it. They need something moved. We have a ship.”

“A mutually beneficial exchange.”

“It is.”

That was the problem. Eli gestured toward the second datachip. “And every time, it's reasonable.”

Stent considered that. “Yes.”

“One passenger. One crate. One small detour. One favor because we're already going that direction.”

“And each has provided useful information or resources.”

“I know.” Eli leaned forward. “But this time there isn’t payment. We're not out here to become Rebel couriers.”

Stent's expression sharpened slightly. “No.”

“We have our own objective.”

“Yes.”

The word came more firmly this time. Eli looked down at the navigation map.

Somewhere farther Coreward was the trail they had been following before all of this began.

Faro. The quince.

And beyond all of that, the reason they were travelling at all.

“We can't keep letting other people's emergencies decide our route.”

Stent folded his hands on the table. “This delivery remains close enough to our planned vector that rejecting it would provide little practical advantage.”

“I agree.”

“But the principle is valid.” Eli looked up. Stent continued. “We complete this task. Afterward, requests are evaluated against our objective first.”

“Not against whether we can help.”

“Correct.”

That distinction mattered.

Eli nodded slowly. “And if helping costs us three days?”

“We consider.”

“A week?”

“We decline.”

“What if it's something important?”

Stent's gaze held his. “Our mission is important.”

Eli sat with that. Then nodded. “Right.”

Stent indicated the navigation package. “We now have what we requested.”

“Finally.”

“We use it.”

Eli pulled the route data fully onto the table. “Then let's see how bad things actually are.”

The map expanded. More warnings appeared. Then more. Eli's expression slowly changed. Stent leaned closer.

A major Coreward corridor remained technically open. Almost everything around it did not. Traffic from several diverted routes was being compressed toward the same passage.

Eli enlarged the data. The contact-density estimate appeared. He stared at it. “That can't be right.”

Stent checked the timestamp. “It is current.”

Eli zoomed out. Then farther. The congestion extended well beyond a single system. Ships were being funneled toward the remaining stable route from every direction. Commercial and military traffic alike.

Eli sat back. “Well.”

Stent studied the map. “We should expect delays.”

Eli looked at the wall of traffic indicators. “How diplomatic of you.”

From the cargo bay came a metallic clatter. Then an outraged series of beeps from Tee.

Eli closed his eyes. “And apparently we should expect other delays too.”

Stent turned toward the corridor. “I will check.”

Eli watched him go. Then looked back at the navigation display. The route ahead was open.

Technically. That, he was beginning to learn, was becoming one of the least reassuring words in the galaxy.

They stayed on Sembla for a day and a half. Long enough to make use of a friendly base. Not long enough for Eli to start thinking of it as a place to stay.

The Faded Glory spent most of the first afternoon connected to hoses. Fuel first. Then water; they performed a full cleaning cycle of the freshwater and waste tanks. Then another line Stent identified as coolant before Eli had finished asking what it was.

The Rebels had waved away the question of payment. “You brought in two people and half the components keeping our communications network alive,” one of the ground technicians told Eli. “Take the fuel.”

Eli had not argued very hard. There were advantages to being an honest trader with occasional Rebel side work.

The fuel gauges climbed steadily toward full while another technician connected the potable-water feed. Eli stood beneath the wing in an insulated jacket, watching condensation freeze almost instantly along one of the couplings.

Stent noticed it too. “We need to inspect the exterior seals before departure.”

Eli looked out across the landing field. Snow moved sideways.

Beyond the perimeter lights, black volcanic rock disappeared beneath a white haze. Somewhere farther downhill lay the sea, dark and restless between shelves of ice. “You want to inspect the hull outside.”

“Yes.”

“In that.”

“The vessel has been exposed to salt, moisture, ice and rapid temperature variation.”

“I know what it's been exposed to. I was exposed to it too.”

Stent gave him a level look. “The ship cannot complain.”

“Lucky ship.”

They did the inspection anyway. Or rather, Stent did most of it while Eli followed with a portable diagnostic unit and questioned several of his life choices.

Ice had accumulated around two exterior seams. Nothing serious. One access panel needed resealing. A sensor housing had collected enough frozen spray to interfere slightly with its range, and Stent spent several minutes removing it with the patience of someone who took weather personally.

By the time they climbed back aboard, Eli could barely feel his fingers.

Stent appeared unaffected. “You're blue,” Eli told him. Stent stopped. Eli considered the sentence. “More blue.”

“That is not diagnostically useful.”

“It wasn't meant to be.”

The base provision stores were better stocked than Eli expected and considerably less exciting.

The quartermaster had apparently heard they were leaving with only two biological crew and interpreted that as an invitation to fill every available storage compartment.

By the end of the process, Eli had acquired enough military ration packs to survive a siege.

Dry grain.

Preserved vegetables.

Protein concentrate.

Several blocks of something labeled only as FORTIFIED FIELD NUTRITION.

And fish. A great deal of fish.

Sembla's shallow seas produced several local species in quantity, and salting or freezing remained one of the easiest ways to preserve them in remote settlements.

Eli lifted one vacuum-sealed packet. The fish inside looked dense, pale and aggressively preserved. “How salty is this?”

The quartermaster considered. “Very.”

“That isn't a measurement.”

“You'll want water.”

Stent took three more packets.

Eli watched him. “You're enjoying this.”

“It is efficient food.”

“That's not the same as enjoying it.”

“I did not say I enjoyed it.”

“You took four.”

“We have storage capacity.”

Eli put his packet into the crate. “Fine. At least it'll survive longer than we do.”

The quartermaster handed him another box of ration packs. “Those are good for eighteen months.”

Eli looked at Stent. “See?”

Stent nodded. “Useful.”

“You two deserve each other,” the quartermaster said.

Eli was still deciding how to respond when Stent added another packet of salted fish to the pile.

Ch'eth's supplies required a different department.

The base did not keep food for kivren. It did, however, keep bait.

The fishing stores occupied part of an old utility room near the lower level, and the Vurk civilian working there listened to Stent's explanation before disappearing into a refrigerated compartment.

He returned carrying two sealed containers. “River grubs,” he said. “Frozen. And dried cliff beetles. We sell both to the coastal crews.”

Stent inspected the labels. “Protein content?”

The Vurk stared at him. Eli covered his mouth. Stent looked over. “What?”

“Nothing.”

The Vurk eventually found the nutritional information.

Apparently the answer satisfied Stent.

Ch'eth, when presented with a thawed river grub several hours later, provided a considerably more enthusiastic assessment.

The kivren seized it from Stent's fingers, retreated approximately twenty centimeters and consumed it with such concentrated violence that Eli reconsidered every time he had described the animal as cute. “Well...”

Stent watched him eat. “Appropriate diet.”

“He just dismantled that thing.”

“Yes.”

“There were pieces.”

“Yes.”

Eli looked down at Ch'eth, who was already searching for another.

“I'm going to remember this the next time he curls up looking harmless.”

“He is a predator.”

“He weighs two hundred grams.”

“That does not alter his diet. And he weights two hundred thirty grams now.”

“Oh, excuse me Ch’eth.”

The proper enclosure came from medical storage.

It had originally been designed to transport small biological samples or laboratory animals: lightweight composite walls, ventilation slots, a secure transparent door and a removable lower tray.

Stent inspected the locking mechanism twice. Then he modified it.

Eli watched from the common room table as Stent fitted an additional manual latch to a container designed to hold creatures considerably stronger than Ch'eth.

“You know he hasn't escaped once since we started letting him out.”

“That is not a reason to make escape possible.”

“It has two locks already.”

“It had two locks.”

“It now has three.”

“Yes.”

Eli looked at Ch'eth. The kivren was currently inside the open container, investigating the corners.

Stent had lined part of the floor with absorbent material and placed a folded piece of fabric toward the rear, creating a sheltered pocket where the light did not reach directly.

Eli recognized the fabric. “Is that your shirt?”

“Part of it. But now it’s his shirt.”

The original shirt had suffered considerably during Ch'eth's first week aboard. Between being used as a trap cover, bedding and something for the animal to chew, it had stopped qualifying as clothing.

Stent had cut the least damaged sections into pieces. One now formed the interior of Ch'eth's new den.

Eli smiled.

Stent noticed. “It already carries familiar scent markers.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I've learned.”

“No, you have not.”

Ch'eth disappeared into the folded cloth. A moment later, only his nose remained visible.

Eli looked at Stent. Stent very carefully did not look at Eli.

Officially, the enclosure was where Ch'eth would sleep, on the cargo bay. Eli gave that arrangement a week.

Possibly less.