“Do you believe he’ll accept that his circumstances have changed, and join our cause?” Xeno asked.

“Hard to say,” Samara shrugged. “Emotionally, he’s still tied to the Troika, which only makes sense when you think about it. They’ve been his patrons for years, given him position and power. That won’t be easy to ignore.”

“I sense a ‘But’ rapidly approaching,” he smiled.

“But…” she chuckled, “like you said, things have changed. Jibril at his core is a pragmatist, and I’m betting that will win out, eventually. How long he takes to get there, however, remains to be seen.”

“So, we wait.” Xeno folded his hands, regarding her with his sightless eyes. “Any suggestions on what we should do in the meantime?”

“Well, we can start by investigating the Eleexx border, and see if there are any obvious ways in. If we’re hitting Ifig’uq, that has to be an important first step.”

“Agreed,” Xeno nodded. “I will speak with others and learn what our options are. Anything else?”

“Just some busy work,” she told him. “I’d like to keep Jibril occupied... idle hands, and all... so I thought I’d get him started unloading the shuttle. If we have to ditch it in a hurry, I’d hate to lose all the gear we have on board.”

“Very well,” he acknowledged. “I will inform you if we learn anything.” He bowed his head and withdrew.

Heading in the opposite direction, Samara arrived at Jibril’s cabin, unlocking the hatch and entering the compartment without warning him as to her intent. At worst, she expected to find him in a state of undress, something he might make use of for an attempt at sexual conquest. Instead, she had just enough warning to pivot on her left foot and strike out with her fist, catching him mid-leap and in the solar plexus. He landed in a heap, gasping for air.

“So what exactly was the plan, assuming you caught me by surprise?” she asked, shaking her head. “You’d still have to get past the others, and I seriously doubt you could convince Rook to go along with your little scheme. Considering he’s the one controlling the ship, your exit strategy could use a little work.” She folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead, waiting for him to recover.

“I had to try,” he grimaced, before staggering to his feet.

“I sincerely hope you’ve gotten it out of your system, because next time I won’t be nearly as gentle,” she said coldly. “Be glad I pulled my punch.”

“That was you holding back?” he said unhappily, before shaking his head in defeat. “Consider me warned.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. Just because you’re a prisoner doesn’t mean you get a free ride.” He fell in behind her as they made their way to the airlock where the shuttle was docked. Once inside, she led him to the craft’s cargo hold, undogging the hatch. “Grab that dolly,” she told him, pointing at the hand truck parked off to one side, “and start loading up. We’re moving all this back to the ship’s hold.”

Jibril spent a few moments debating whether not to object, before bowing to the inevitable. Boredom was a problem on long journeys, at least with vessels like the Rächerin. A human ship needed constant maintenance to nursemaid it along during the trip, and survival drills were also part of shipboard life. But given its recent and alien construction, not to mention Rook’s constant monitoring and remotes for repair and upkeep, Jibril and his fellow passengers had far too much time on their hands. Even the laziest person in the galaxy would volunteer eventually, just to have something to do.

The work was simple, and there was little conversation as they ferried spare parts and equipment from the shuttle to the ship. That changed, however, as they began loading up for the third trip. Jibril came to an abrupt halt, staring at a stack of gear towards the back of the hold.

“What’s the problem?” Samara demanded.

Jibril turned, his eyes wide, pointing at something hidden in shadow. “Where did you find that?”

Samara peered into the gloom before finally walking over and inspecting the object in question. “You mean this?” she asked, pulling out the odd cube they’d taken from Star’s End and holding it out to him. To her astonishment, Jibril shrank back, waving his hands in a warding gesture.

“Keep that away from me,” he said, as he continued backing off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she badgered him. “It’s just an old curio.”

“I don’t know what’s inside that, and I don’t want to know,” he said in alarm. “The Troika have been searching for years for anything even resembling that box, and if we find one, we’re to hand it over immediately.” He was looking increasingly nervous. “Failure to do so comes with some fairly terrifying threats attached.”

“How is it I’ve never heard about this?” she asked, taking a longer look at the cube.

“Because the Troika only shared that information with a select few individuals in key positions like me. We were supposed to keep a lookout and report any sightings to them. Or else.” He shook his head. “If you want my advice, get rid of it. Toss it out the airlock and forget you ever saw it.”

“Is that so?” Samara mused, as she lifted it up for closer inspection. There were no obvious catches or buttons to open the box... if in fact it was a box... nor could she spot any seams showing a lid or opening. “I can’t help but wonder why they’re so curious about this,” she said at last, looking up from the cube. “But if the Troika is interested, then I’m interested.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Samara,” Jibril warned. “Up til now you’ve been a nuisance, a minor irritant. But if you screw around with that thing, they absolutely will not stop coming for you. That’s how serious they are about those objects; even kidnapping me is nothing compared to that.”

“So what else is new?” she snorted, before fixing him with an icy stare. “Forget you ever saw this,” she told him. “I don’t want you talking about it, I don’t want you thinking about it. Understand?”

“For once we are in complete agreement,” he concurred. “But I’m telling you, if you’re smart, you’ll get rid of it. Anything that important to the Troika means trouble for a Terran.”

“In trouble? Moi? How will I cope?” she said, mocking him. “Get out of here and go back to your cabin.”

“Gladly,” he answered, shuddering as he gave the cube one last look before disappearing.

“All right, I’m here,” Xeno said as he took a seat. “Do you mind telling me why we had to meet in the shuttle?”

“Because it’s the one place Rook isn’t wired in,” she answered. “He can’t know about this, not under any circumstances.”

“You have my undivided attention,” he smiled. “What is this big secret of yours?”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “What do you know about my last mission for the Clan?” she asked. “Before I changed allegiances?”

“You mean your mission to Earth?” he asked with a grin. “I sincerely hope you did not think that was a secret.”

“You mean you knew?” she said in surprise. “Why didn’t you ever ask me about it?”

“I... we... felt you would discuss it when you were ready,” he explained. “That it was such an unusual mission, it was obvious there was a reason you were keeping it close to your vest.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, “but I think I need to tell you, even if I’m not entirely sure I should.”

“Then I am all ears,” he smiled, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll skip the details, but one thing we learned, after making a trade with the Oivu, is that there’s a planet out there that has the Troika tearing the galaxy apart trying to find a way in. It’s the reason the Aggaaddub attacked Freya, and why all three races have been after me ever since.”

Xeno raised an eyebrow. “Must be quite the planet to garner so much attention.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed. “The planet once belonged to an ancient race the Oivu called the Precursors. They disappeared a billion years ago and left behind a veritable treasure trove of goodies, stuff that’s even more advanced than what the Troika possesses. At least, that’s the theory.”

“No wonder they’re so obsessed,” he said in wonder. “A planet like that... whoever controlled it could rule the galaxy.”

“That they could,” she agreed, “but there’s a catch. The Precursors left behind a guardian to protect the planet... some kind of AI, I’m guessing... and every ship that tried to gain access was wiped from existence. Except one.” She leaned in and whispered, “A lone Terran scout ship somehow found its way in, just before the Yīqún destroyed Earth.”

“... how…” Xeno began.

“We don’t know,” she answered, cutting him off. “The scout limped back to the homeworld before succumbing to his injuries, and we recovered a partial record. It narrowed down the search area but didn’t tell us how he did it.”

“And the Troika wants that data,” he mused.

“They do, but that’s only the half of it.” She pulled out the strange box and set it on his lap.

His hands roamed over its surface as he put all his enhanced senses to work examining it. “This is that box you recovered from the marauders,” he said in recognition.

“It is,” she agreed. “Jibril says the Troika have been looking for items like this all across the quadrant, and that they have absolute priority. If this is what I think it is…”

“You think it’s a piece of Precursor technology,” he deduced.

“I do,” Samara nodded. “We need to figure out what it does. If we can do that, and somehow use it to our advantage, just think of the edge that would give us.”

Xeno sighed. “Samara, you do not know if this is in fact a piece of technology from that ancient race, you’re only guessing that it is. Furthermore, you have no idea what it actually does, assuming it does anything at all.”

“I know,” she said unhappily, “but it’s all we’ve got. Is there any chance you…” Samara asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “I’m flattered, truly I am, but even with my adaptations I would have no idea where to begin. Still, I will try. Just don’t expect miracles.”

“I know it’s a longshot, but if we somehow could unlock its secrets, just think what that would give us,” she said with excitement. “This could be the very thing we’ve been waiting for since we lost Earth.”

“I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment,” he said sadly. “It is much more likely that my efforts will gain us nothing.”

“I have to believe we found that thing for a reason,” she told him. “Just think about the odds of us stumbling across it all.”

Xeno regarded her with an odd expression. “And just when did you become the optimist, my dear?”

Samara grinned. “If you’d called me that a year ago, I would have laughed in your face. But now?” She could only shrug in response. “For the first time in almost two centuries, we’ve got a real chance. The pieces are all out there, like a giant puzzle, and we’re already ahead in the game. That’s why the Troika is trying so hard to stop us. But just imagine if we actually found that planet. We could turn the tables on them.”

“It’s a wonderful dream,” he said gently, “though I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment. We may have a couple of tantalizing clues, but so far they tell us nothing.”

“I know. I know!” she said in exasperation. “But I also know this; if we don’t take this chance now, we will spend the rest of our lives regretting it.” She placed her hand on his. “So please... for me.”

Xeno folded his other hand over hers. “For you? Anything,” he smiled. “I promise I will give it my very best effort.”

“I know you will,” she said softly. “But for now, keep this between us, and only work on it in here. We can’t risk this getting out, especially if we learn something important.”

“You have my word,” he vowed. “I will also keep an ear to the æther, now that I know what I’m listening for,” he told her, tapping the device clamped to his skull.

“Good idea,” she nodded in approval.

“In the meantime, what do you plan to do with Jibril?” he asked.

“Keep sweating him for information,” she answered.

“I was actually referring to this,” he told her, patting the box in his lap. “How do you plan on keeping him from discussing it without tipping off the others, especially Rook?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she chuckled. “One way or another, I’ll convince him to keep his mouth shut.”