The High Noort’s answer had been a time and an address. Nothing more.

Bregg was torn.

Should he go?

It could be a trap.

But why would the Noort set a trap for him? She had read his message. He had made it clear he was not the enemy, that he wanted to help her.

Why would she believe him, though?

He could understand mistrust, but not distrust.

She would ask him to prove his sincerity, and he was prepared for that.

He would go, then. Of course he would.

It was an opportunity he could not afford to miss.

But what about the others?

What would he tell them?

He suddenly regretted bringing them with him. He should have come alone...

But then his friend—his only friend—would probably be dead now.

His eyes darted to the morning sky, but there was nothing there to see anymore.

And why was Juden not responding to his message? Something must have gone wrong.

He sighed as he finished dressing up, then headed downstairs to meet the others.

“Should we go talk with this Arthum?” asked Ferris.

It made him upset to see they had exchanged information without waiting for him. He knew it was irrational, but he didn’t care.

He sat at the table with a grunt.

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s too early for that,” he explained. “We know nothing about these people. We need more information.”

Ferris frowned. “But can we afford to delay contact?”

He looked his friend in the eye. “And what, exactly, is the urgency?” Without turning his gaze away, he pointed at the ceiling. “They’re all gone. Including those who gave us this mission. They were in a hurry too, and look where it got them. No. I’m not taking any chances. We need to wait for more ships to come, anyway. We’re stuck here until they do. So we might as well take that time to gather as much information as we can. That means observing people. And not just those two groups we spotted.”

He pondered for a moment while they ordered their breakfast on the tactile table.

“Dawan will keep an eye on this Arthum fellow,” he said. “See what he is up to. Who he is, as well. Where does he work? What does he do when he is not conspiring against his government?”

He saw Ferris frown but ignored it as he turned toward Orvos.

“And you will go back to this other man... You have followed him to his home, yes?” The young ensign nodded. “Good. You will do the same with him. Observe and learn. Gather information. You never know what may be useful later.” He paused, thinking. “It would be best if you sent me the information as you gather it. Send me your reports on an hourly basis.” He glanced at Ferris. “You as well.”

“Me?”

Bregg nodded. “I want you to go back to that tavern. Keep your ears open. See if anyone talks about these fantastical weapons the Qevahri have. Someone must know something. There have to be rumors, at the least. Send me anything you hear.”

“What about you?”

He had expected his friend to ask this, so he smiled.

“I will be doing the same thing. Gathering information. There are other places to spy. We will cover more ground if we work separately.”

His three crew nodded.

After breakfast, they parted, and Bregg walked off toward a transit station.

He checked the Holoscreen schedule and saw it would take him twenty minutes to reach the rendezvous point.

With a sigh, he boarded the shuttle and waited.

The ride seemed much longer than twenty minutes, and he was growing impatient.

It irked him having to do things like this. He should have been commanding a fleet, not riding public transportation.

This was demeaning.

And all because of one tiny stupid mistake.

The Imperium would pay. One way or another.

He got off the shuttle, walked down two streets, turned into an alley, and stopped.

Five men waited there.

He looked at his wristpad and saw he was two minutes early.

With a grunt, he moved closer to the men.

They all wore the typical red cloak of the Qevahri priests, with hoods over their heads.

He stopped a few feet from the men and considered them one by one.

When still they said nothing, he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Well? I assume you came to take me to her?”

Still, the priests said nothing.

One of them stepped forward and held out his hand, placing it gently on Bregg’s shoulder.

He jerked back, but not enough to pull away.

The other man pulled on his shoulder to make him turn and face toward the building on his right.

There was a door there.

Another priest gestured toward it.

Bregg grunted. “Fine. I get the message. Let’s get going, then.”

He walked up to the door and stepped through.

It was dark inside. As if he’d entered some underground tunnel.

He heard more than he saw the five men fall into step behind him.

It was strange that they would not lead the way. But perhaps it would be a straight line, with no places where he could take a bad turn. And even then, they could always grab him by the shoulder again.

Though he’d rather they would not.

And why did they not speak? He’d never heard of Qevahri priests making a vow of silence. He knew there were other religions where this was a common practice, but not here.

He shrugged to himself as he walked.

“How much further?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

None came.

The only sounds here were the echoes of their footsteps.

It was eerie.

After a few minutes, he saw a light ahead of him. It grew quickly. He saw it came from slits on the walls on either side. As they reached that section of the tunnel, he glanced through the slits and froze in his steps, his eyes wide.

Those openings gave in two large rooms filled with gigantic machines the likes of which he’d never seen. It looked nothing like Imperial technology. It felt more like alien devices, with strange shapes and angles, triangular screens, wobbly levers that could only be manipulated with your feet, and a constant mist that seemed to seep from the top.

He realized the priests had stopped walking as well. They stood there, waiting, staring at him.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the slit on his left.

Again, he expected no answer.

And yet, this time, surprisingly, one of the men smiled and spoke.

“It is a gift from Saan,” he said softly.