Atrea was alone when Mercy reached the infirmary. She lay, still encased in the blue stasis field, on a bunk at the far end of the room. Wolfgang wasn’t here, and Mercy had to shove aside an acute sense of disappointment. Privacy screens were engaged, giving the illusion of a private room with their distortion field, but Doc’s young assistant Nayla gave Mercy the code. She slipped inside to sit with her friend.

She sat with her for a long time.

Atrea looked like she belonged in the infirmary. Her eyes were closed in peaceful sleep, thanks to whatever drug had been used to knock her out, but the stasis field kept her body, her cells frozen in exactly the condition she’d been in. Her blond hair was mussed from her struggles, and dark circles around her eyes and hollow cheeks gave her face a gaunt, unhealthy cast. She was thin, her time as a captive with Willem Frain a visible stamp on her body’s condition. Doc could do nothing to help or improve it while she was in stasis. The flip side, of course, being that she couldn’t worsen and die, either.

After a time, the silence was too much, too sad. So Mercy started telling Atrea everything that had happened. She started with the escape from the space station, moved on to waking up on the Nemesis, and ended with the arena. It took a surprisingly long time.

“I feel like, since the moment you and I walked into that stupid bar on Yuan-Ki, I’ve been dancing to someone else’s tune, and I’m just so tired.” Mercy stared down at her friend, wishing more than anything that she could really talk to her.

Atrea always knew what to say.

Of course, being Atrea, Mercy could well-imagine what her friend would say. Atrea never did have time for things like self-pity and regret. She was someone who took action and did things.

Then stop dancing. Do what you want, not what they want.

“But doing what they wanted saved the lives of two teenage boys,” Mercy said aloud. She leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair, and rested her chin in her hand, so she could stare into the stasis field. “I’m not against that.”

Then what are you against?

“Being manipulated. Feeling like I was maneuvered into having no choice. They want me to be their Queen, and I just want to be me.”

So why do those two things have to be exclusive? Maybe you don’t want to be Queen because you’re afraid of what it will mean.

Since her own subconscious was creating this conversation, the thought gave Mercy a moment’s pause, and she turned it over in her mind, really thinking about it.

What would it mean?

Staying here, probably forever. Becoming more like her grandmother – who everyone seemed to despise. Never returning to the smuggler’s life she’d lived for the past fifteen years. Never getting into another adventure with Atrea, sure to turn the old Wolf’s hair even grayer.

Never finding out what really happened to her mother.

Don’t be ridiculous. Phantom Atrea’s voice was just as dry as real Atrea’s would be. Mercy could almost see her rolling her eyes. You would never be like that murderous old bitch. I’m not sure you remember, but the smuggler’s life isn’t exactly living the dream. Spaceport security is always a pain in the ass. Who says a Queen can’t have adventures, anyway? And we will never give up on finding your mother. Remember?

Mercy stared down at the wrist of her left hand, at the faint shimmer of the lemniscate imprinted on her flesh with holographic ink, matching the same figure eight symbol on Atrea’s left wrist. They’d snuck out and had them done at the same time when they were fourteen. Atrea said it was a promise, a vow to keep looking for Pallas together, forever. Captain Hades had tried to interfere with that vow many times in the years since. He ordered them to drop it, kept them too busy to indulge in the search, and kept tabs on their movements. Which, since it had ultimately led to getting them off that damn space station, Mercy couldn’t be too upset about.

Wolfgang said the search was too dangerous. He wasn’t wrong, but Mercy could not turn her back on her mother. Atrea, who never had the chance to know hers, was determined to help Mercy reunite with Pallas if she still lived. Nothing Wolfgang said or did had ever made a dent in that determination.

“Right,” said Mercy softly. Something unfurled in her belly, a tension that had been filling her with anxiety since first being told what she was.

Besides, if you’re Queen, you can order them to help us, right? Atrea would say that with a cocky half smile, hands on her hips. Mercy almost laughed.

“Maybe,” she said, smiling at the stasis field. She reached out a hand and splayed it against the surface of the field. It was cool to the touch and smooth like glass. But Mercy knew it was a million times stronger, stronger than the hardest plasteel. Nothing could penetrate a stasis field once it was created, so long as power kept feeding it.

As quickly as it had come, her amusement suddenly vanished, morphed into a crushing sadness that had her blinking back tears.

“Damn it, Atrea,” she said softly. “You better wake up and get better. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

This time, only stark silence answered her. No imaginary quips or assurances forthcoming. Maybe because deep down, Mercy’s greatest fear was that Atrea would never wake up again.

With the privacy screen open, she could hear the low thrum of the various medical machines in the background behind her, Nayla’s voice speaking softly when Doc entered the infirmary, no doubt explaining to him that Mercy was here. He better not try to examine her. Mercy was in no mood for poking and prodding, especially from a pirate. After several minutes went by and the irritable doctor didn’t try to invade the sanctity of the privacy screens, she relaxed again.

She stayed for a long time, long enough to lie against the stasis field and cradle her head in her arms, and drift half asleep. If she waited long enough, Wolfgang was sure to come back. He would never leave his daughter’s side for any prolonged length of time.

But when a voice jarred her to wakefulness, it wasn’t the low, reassuring rumble of the old Wolf. It was unfamiliar, high pitched and melodic in the way of the very young. A child’s voice.

Mercy opened her eyes to a strange sight. A small figure wearing a pink ruffled dress and barefoot, perched precariously next to her. Her arms were stretched to balance against the stasis field, and her feet stood on…nothing. Mercy’s heart leapt into her throat as she watched those tiny toes curl, dangling in the empty air. No, not dangling exactly. Her feet were flat, as though they stood on a solid surface, except there wasn’t anything for them to stand on.

Telekinesis. This child was using telekinesis to levitate herself as easily as most adults walked across a room.

She had creamy brown skin and a wild head of gold-touched dark curls. A purple ribbon lay askew against the curls, having clearly lost the battle to keep them contained. She was singing, her voice clear and pretty as she stumbled her way through the words of a lullaby. The melody sent a shiver of recognition through Mercy; she knew it.

Memory surfaced, faint and distant. Her mother’s voice, singing the same song. It made her throat ache.

Abruptly, the child stopped. She broke off between one word and the next, and turned to stare at Mercy. Her eyes were brightly blue and seemed familiar. She couldn’t have been older than three or four. Mercy sent a covert look over her shoulder, but no adults lingered nearby. Even Doc and Nayla weren’t in the immediate vicinity, though she could hear the low murmur of voices from the far side of the room.

“Don’t be sad.” The little girl regarded her with wide, innocent eyes. “Rasa says singing made Mercy sad.” She gave a guilty shrug. “Sorry.”

Mercy stared at her, wrestling with where to start dissecting that statement. “How do you know my name?”

The child’s mouth dropped open and a giggle escaped. “Everyone knows.” She leaned over and touched Mercy’s hand with a finger. “Queen.” The word held a kind of reverent respect that was almost awe.

Mercy’s heart pounded. It sent a surge of adrenaline through her to know that everyone on this ship, down to the smallest child, knew who she was. She felt vulnerable in a way that scared her to her bones. She closed her eyes and forced it away, spending a few seconds to concentrate on her breathing and remind herself that she wasn’t in hiding anymore. Her heartbeat slowed and the fear faded.

Habits formed for more than two decades were hard to break.

When she opened her eyes, the little girl was staring at her with a fascinated expression. She had plopped herself down into a sitting position. She swung her legs in the open air as though she was perched on a seat or a ledge. One arm clutched a stuffed animal that had seen better days, the fabric ragged and the mottled, brown and white fur rubbed smooth in a few spots. It was missing a nose and one ear, but Mercy was pretty sure it was supposed to be a cat. She was also pretty sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Who was this little girl? And who was Rasa? She cast a quick look around, but it was just the two of them, and Atrea.

The child put a hand against her own chest. “I’m Tama.” She pointed at Mercy. “Queen Mercy.” She turned and looked at the stasis field, placing a gentle hand against it. “Lady. Tama help the Lady.”

“You want to help Atrea?”

To her surprise, Mercy felt a brush against her shields, the equivalent of a light knock. She struggled with herself for a moment, reluctant to expose herself in any way, but she sensed no threat in the presence. She opened her shields a crack.

Talking out loud is hard. The petulant look on Tama’s face convinced Mercy who she was talking to as much as the sing-song sound of the voice in her head.

I think talking like this is hard, she admitted. Another giggle from the girl made her smile.

That’s silly!

Not to me.

Tama studied her face for a long moment. It was an odd sensation. Mercy felt like she was being weighed and judged in some way.

Help you. There was such conviction in the mental statement that Mercy couldn’t bear to argue. Despite her mood, this strange little girl brought a smile to her face. One Tama returned, looking happy. We already help.

I suppose you did. Her mood had definitely lightened in the past few moments. Who is “we”?

Another of those musical laughs made Mercy smile. Tama grinned at her. Me and Rasa. You can’t see him ‘cause he likes to be divisible.

Invisible?

That’s what I said. Tama swung her legs harder. Maybe later you can see him. When he knows you better.

Mercy relaxed. It wasn’t unusual for a child Tama’s age to have an imaginary friend. She turned and spread her fingers over the stasis field. Why do you want to help Atrea?

Tama bit her lip, looking down as her fingers plucked at her cat’s remaining ear. Wolf is sad. Queen is sad. Aunt Nayla is sad. Everyone is sad about the lady. Tama can help.

It should have surprised her that the little girl apparently knew Wolfgang, but it didn’t. Mercy had the impression this child had been here before, many times. Singing lullabies and visiting.

“You don’t need to call me Queen,” she told her. “I’m just Mercy.”

Mercy. Tama peered up from between dark lashes, giving a shy smile.

“Tamari?” The sound of Nayla’s voice had the little girl ducking her head and peering around Mercy. The privacy shields were open just enough to give a glimpse of the rest of the infirmary, to where Nayla stood with her hands on her hips, looking straight at them. “What did I say about giving people privacy?”

Tama fiddled with her stuffed cat again. Mercy was beginning to see why it was so bedraggled in appearance.

I just sing to the lady.

Looking unimpressed with this excuse, Nayla marched past infirmary beds toward them. In that moment, Mercy could see the influence of Doc’s caustic nature on the young woman. There was a glint in her eyes that said her niece was about to be in trouble. Tama looked at Mercy with those wide blue eyes, pleading, and her heart melted a little.

“It’s okay,” she said aloud. “Tama was just keeping me company.”

Nayla hesitated mid-stride. “You sure?”

Mercy smiled conspiratorially at Tama, who giggled, hiding her face against her cat’s head. “I’m sure. It’s no bother.”

Nayla’s mouth twitched, and Mercy had the impression she was fighting a smile. “All right, then. But Tamari, what did I say about you coming to visit me? Or anyone in the infirmary?”

Tama swung her legs harder, not looking up at her aunt. She mumbled a word so quietly, Mercy almost didn’t hear it. It sounded like “mission”.

“That’s right, you ask permission. Does your Mama know where you are? Or Papa? Or any of the dogs?”

A reluctant shrug.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Nayla shook her head. “They’re probably all looking for you. You stay with Mercy, all right? I’m going to let them know where you are, and you better not run off!”

Mercy eyed the girl as Nayla moved away. She had to wonder who her Mama and Papa were. She didn’t look like family, so at least there was that.

She’d met enough of them for one day.

After a moment, Tamari stopped kicking her legs and looked up at Mercy with another of those shy smiles. Friends?

Charmed, Mercy returned the smile. I don’t know. I expect a lot out of my friends.

Tamari cocked her head. Like what?

Honesty. Partnership. No sneaking around behind my back. Letting me know what you plan to do so I can have fun with you, or help you. Or keep her out of trouble. But Mercy let that part remain unsaid. Telling me when you’re in trouble or scared.

Tamari considered her for a long time. She glanced down at Atrea, and then out where Nayla was. Will you tell Mama and Papa?

Only if it you’re in danger of being hurt.

Okay. Tamari gave her a smile so brilliant, it dazzled.

“Tamari?” Mercy recognized the gruff voice that spoke behind her. Evidently, so did Tama, because the little girl jumped to her feet with an excited squeal.

“Wolf!” The name was spoken both aloud and telepathically. Tama launched herself from her telekinetic platform straight at Wolfgang. Luckily, if there was one thing the old Wolf had experience with, it was raising daughters. He caught her easily, and tucked her against his side so smoothly it was like he’d done it every day of his life.

Well, maybe Atrea hadn’t been born with Talent, but Mercy was well acquainted with her best friend’s daredevil ways. He probably had.

Since the last time she’d seen him, he’d cleaned himself up and shaved. His face was smooth, his gray hair dark and damp from a shower. She could see the tension around his mouth and eyes, though, and knew he had one of his headaches. A lot of the old soldiers with cybernetic implants got them. Wolfgang’s had been getting steadily worse in recent years. Enough that Atrea had started researching what might happen if he had the implants removed, particularly the control circuit implanted in his brain. Unfortunately, the survival rate was not good.

His eyes met Mercy’s for a moment, and he flashed her a brief, tired smile before he turned his attention back to the little girl in his arms.

He tweaked Tama’s nose and made her giggle. “Have you been singing to Atrea again?”

“Singing helps.” Tama said this so seriously, Mercy couldn’t help but smile a little sadly. Nothing penetrated a stasis field. Just like a ship jumping through otherspace, Atrea was removed from time, frozen within a single instant and untouchable by anything happening around her – or to her. Which was the point, of course.

“I’m sure it does,” Wolfgang said, equally grave. His eyes met Mercy’s over Tama’s head. “I see you brought company.”

“I’ve been here for awhile.” Mercy glanced back at Atrea. “No change?”

“No.” Wolfgang cast a look over his shoulder. “They’re working on it. I know that much. But no one seems to understand what was done to her.” His voice was so bleak, Mercy felt her throat constrict.

This was it. She had to tell him she was the one responsible for his daughter’s condition. She opened her mouth, but before she could actually form the words, Tama started singing again.

It was the same lullaby, and the little girl leaned her head against Wolfgang’s chest as she sang, the ribbon in her hair even more askew now, her eyes closed. One hand with its tiny fingers reached up and stroked the side of Wolfgang’s face, a gesture clearly meant to sooth. A transformation occurred before Mercy’s eyes. All of the worry and tension drained from Wolfgang’s features. His shoulders relaxed, and the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth faded. He blinked in surprise, sharing an incredulous look with Mercy.

“Tamari!” This time Nayla disengaged the privacy screens completely. There wasn’t enough room for her to storm past them with Wolfgang taking up the doorway. Her mouth was set in a firm line and her hands were on her hips. Tamari stopped singing and hid her face in Wolfgang’s jacket. “What are you supposed to do before using your Talent on someone else?”

Curious, Mercy eyed the little girl. What Talent had she been using?

Tama said something out loud, but it was so muffled no one could understand it. Wolfgang lifted her away from him and gave her a look Mercy knew well. Uh-oh. He set Tama gently but firmly on the floor, crouching so he was at her level.

“Tamari. Answer your Aunt Nayla.”

The girl was back to fidgeting with her stuffed cat’s ears and not looking anyone in the eye.

“Tama.” Wolf’s voice was soft, but unyielding.

“Ask ‘mission,” she said in a very small voice.

“And did you ask my permission?”

She shook her head.

“Do you understand why you need to?”

Those tiny shoulders hunched, but as Mercy knew well, no one escaped the old Wolf’s interrogations. He had endless patience. When Nayla made to move forward, Wolfgang just shook his head slightly. “It’s better if she understands why. Tama, why do you need to ask permission?”

“Privacy.”

“And what else?”

A shrug.

“Did you know that nulls like me don’t have shields like you?”

Startled, the girl looked up at him. She shook her head, eyes wide.

“That means it’s easier to hurt us, even unintentionally. I know you wanted to help me, but it really is important to ask first. Next time, we can have someone who knows how monitor what you’re doing. It’s safer for me and you.”

“Okay.” She reached out a tentative hand and touched his face. “Wolf hurt?”

Wolfgang smiled. “No. You helped me. Thank you. Just be sure and follow the rules from now on.”

She gave a tremulous smile. “Okay.” Then her gaze focused on something beyond him, and the moment was forgotten. “Papa!” Joy filled her face.

In the next moment, Tamari was gone. There was the snap of air rushing into the space she’d occupied a moment ago, and then she was across the room and in the arms of a huge, dark-skinned man who made Wolfgang look small. He wore an expensive suit and had a serious face, with close-cropped black hair and cold blue eyes that sent a shiver through Mercy.

That was why Tamari’s eyes had seemed so familiar – they were the same color as Reaper’s eyes. An icy, pale blue that verged on colorless. Except Tama’s eyes held a warmth Reaper’s lacked.

A warmth her father’s eyes lacked, as well. Tamari’s father was a Killer, like Reaper.

Mercy stood up slowly. She had the urge to place herself between Wolfgang and this man in case this went badly. She had the sense that she was standing in the same room as a very dangerous weapon, a hair’s trigger from going off. The man’s blue eyes focused on her, and it wasn’t nearly as comfortable a look as Reaper’s gaze. For the first time, Mercy understood why everyone had such a reaction to Reaper.

She cleared her throat. “Apparently your daughter likes to visit Atrea,” she said cautiously.

“Yes, I know.” The man’s voice was deep and calm. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded…flat. Unaffected. “Tamari, are you supposed to be teleporting without supervision?”

No, Papa. The mental voice sounded so chastised Mercy had to choke back a laugh. She was starting to see a theme with this little girl. Then Tamari tilted her head, and there was a crafty look to her. But you were here! And Rasa. That’s super-ized.

“No, it is not. I need to know before you teleport. As you well know, Rasa does not count as supervision. If you do it again, I will have Uncle Treon lock down your Talent until I believe you can follow my directive.”

Her lower lip quivered, but Tama didn’t try to bargain further. Considering her interaction with the girl, Mercy supposed Tama knew such tactics didn’t work against her formidable father.

“Okay, Papa.” Her voice sounded exactly like it had when she’d agreed with Wolfgang: resigned.

The man looked back at Mercy and the others, and gave a single nod. “Thank you for watching her. Nayla, thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime, Dem. Have you met Mercy?”

“Not yet.” He inclined his head, and Mercy returned the nod. “I’m the Chief of Security aboard Nemesis. I hear Reaper is taking care of your security.”

That was true enough. Then she thought about the arena and frowned. “For now, anyway.”

Dem studied her for a long moment. “I see. I have no doubt in my brother’s abilities, but perhaps you do.”

Mercy wanted to argue that she didn’t doubt Reaper’s abilities, just his intentions. But then she thought better of it. Whatever manipulation had happened today was between her and Reaper.

“Wolfgang, when she’s ready, perhaps you would escort Mercy to her quarters?”

Mercy bit back the urge to argue with him. It was clear that no one was comfortable yet letting her run around the ship unattended. If she had to have someone with her, better it was Wolfgang than someone she didn’t know. Besides, she wanted a chance to talk to him.

“You don’t trust that she’s safe on this ship?” There was a challenge in the old Wolf’s voice.

Dem simply raised one black brow. “Do you?”

Wolfgang barked a laugh. “Point taken.”

“Now.” Dem studied his small daughter, and Mercy was surprised to see his lips curve into a smile. “Why don’t I give you a lesson on teleporting, halla? And you can explain to your mother where you’ve been all afternoon.”

Okay! Bye Mercy! Bye Wolf! Bye Auntie!

The two of them were gone between one blink and the next, with only a snap of air to show they’d ever been there.

“I thought the ability to teleport was extremely rare,” Mercy said aloud. She was thinking not just of Tamari and Dem, but also of the young girl who’d facilitated Willem Frain’s escape from the space station.

“It is,” said Nayla with a sigh. “That’s what makes keeping track of Tamari so hard. People aren’t used to an active, curious child who can teleport.”

“That’s not all she can do.” Mercy glanced at Wolfgang.

“No.” Nayla smiled. “Tamari’s mother is my sister, Sanah. An empath. We’re still learning how that gift has manifested in Tama, but it’s clear she has some form of it.”

A teleporting empath, who was also the daughter of a Killer. “That must make for some interesting family time.”

Nayla laughed. “You have no idea.” She shook her head, then went back to whatever task Tamari had interrupted.

Wolfgang touched her shoulder. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Not long ago. Cannon fed me right after I woke.”

“Hmm. Probably couldn’t manage much after so long with so little. You’re too thin. You should eat small amounts at regular, short intervals, until you’re back up to fighting weight.”

Mercy barely managed not to roll her eyes. Wolfgang didn’t miss it, the corner of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a smile.

“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for this old man. I can only pester one of you right now, so you get the brunt of it.”

Mercy saw his gaze go to Atrea, saw the raw worry and pain that moved through his steely eyes and grizzled face. Her heart twisted.

“Okay, fine. I’ll eat.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Come sit with me?”

His attention switched back to her, and he smiled. Tired, but genuine.

“I would love to.”

With one last look at Atrea and a silent promise to return, Mercy led the way out of the infirmary. Nayla waved, and Doc didn’t look up from the datapad he was muttering over in the back. He hadn’t even stirred with all of the coming and going from the infirmary, and Mercy figured he must be used to Tama’s unscheduled visits. That was just fine as far as she was concerned. Mercy planned to avoid the good doctor for as long as possible.

“You know,” said Wolfgang conversationally as they moved down the corridor together, “Doc keeping tabs on you isn’t the worst thing, given the condition you were in when you arrived.”

Ha! Mercy didn’t dignify that with an answer. She hated doctors at the best of times, always too worried about what they might discover about her to relax around them. Doc’s abrasive personality just made it easy for her to distrust him.

Wolfgang signaled for the lift as they reached the end of the hall, smiling at Mercy sardonically. He knew exactly how much she hated medical facilities and doctors poking their noses anywhere around her.

“You don’t need to worry about being discovered here,” he pointed out. As if she didn’t know that.

The lift arrived, and the doors began to open.

“Look,” she said, “just because—”

The tremor of something wrong hit her a second before Reaper’s voice burst into her head. An awareness that had her eyes widening, adrenaline flooding her limbs.

MERCY, DOWN!

She moved, shoving into Wolfgang with her entire body.

Stupid. It shouldn’t have worked. His implants should have kept him solidly on his feet. But the two of them stumbled to the side, hitting the wall just as the doors to the lift opened and a blast of heat and flame belched out.