Precipice

Footsteps halted behind him. He knew without looking it was her. “Mister Pe

Reluctantly, he turned to face her. “Yes, dear?”

“I wish to inform you our honeymoon is now over. And I wanted to thank you for your help.”

She offered him her hand. Shaking it, he asked, “That’s it, then?” Noting her confused reaction, he let go of her hand and went on. “I mean, sure, you’ve reached Ajilon. And knowing you, there’s probably some devious scheme already in the works. But do you really think you’re safer going it alone?”

“Safety was never one of my chief considerations,” T’Pry

He rolled his eyes. “Now you tell me.” He shook his head. “Never mind—what’s your next move?”

T’Pry

“Well, obviously,” he said, keeping his eyes on the water. “I know you probably won’t answer me, but I’ll ask anyway. What are you hoping to accomplish?”

An uneasy silence lasted for several seconds. Then T’Pry

Pe

“Because I suspect Ganz’s organization serves as a cutout for the Klingons in that sector—and that he or someone who works for him had a hand in destroying the Nowlanand murdering Diego Reyes.”

While Pe

“Hold on!” he called to her. He grabbed his duffel and jogged clumsily after her. “You can prove that?”

Over her shoulder, she replied, “Of course not, Mister Pe

“Right,” he replied, feeling like a bit of a berk. “You did say that, didn’t you? Sorry.”

As he fell into step beside her, she glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“Y’know,” the intrigued young Scot said with a shrug, “to help.” He omitted the fact that being able to publish a properly sourced story titled “Who Really Killed Diego Reyes?” would likely win him awards and pave his way to a lifetime of prestige. And adoring fans. Preferably young, female fans.

“I thought I had made it clear my best interests would be served by us going our separate ways.”

“You did. But the thing is, I’m not so sure. That you’re right, I mean. I learned a lot traveling with Qui

Christ,he fumed. I’m babbling. I need to keep cool.

“Would you perhaps have an ulterior motive for coming with me, Mister Pe

“Well, I, uh …” He made half a dozen strange faces while he struggled and failed to conceive some means of evading her question. “Well, if I learn something newsworthy, I’m going to write about it, aren’t I? But I’m not a total sod, T’Pry

Behind them, the shuttle’s engines whined and split the air. The small craft took off and ascended into the sky on its way back to orbit. When the din of its departure abated, T’Pry

“Well, I guess I do.”

“I see.”

Passing into the warren of narrow streets beyond the landing field, Pe

“Look, you can trust me,” Pe

As they turned a corner, she replied, “The mission I am about to undertake will be time-consuming, tedious, and at times extremely dangerous.” She stopped and faced him. “I am grateful to you for helping me escape custody on Vulcan, but the longer you stay with me, the greater your legal jeopardy becomes. I ca

“You don’t have to ask,” Pe

She made a small bow of her head. “If that is your choice, then I will not refuse your aid.”

He sighed and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

T’Pry

“Looks like a bloody smugglers’ cove if ever I saw one,” Pe

Pulling an illegal sca

“Travel with Qui

“No doubt.” She aimed her sca

Even though they were concealed in the darkness between two buildings, Pe

“No, Mister Pe

“I don’t,” he said. “I’m in.”

“Very well.” T’Pry

He looked at the weapon in his hand. Its potential excited and terrified him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Right. What do you need from me?”

She arched one eyebrow. “A distraction.”

Dochyiel stood under the bow of his employer’s starship and used a Klingon painstikto swat another nymock off the power cables attached to the forward landing gear.

“Damned pests,” muttered the Efrosian hired gun. He jabbed the painstikinto the fallen parasite—to make sure it was dead and to vent some of his anger. This isn’t even supposed to be my job,he brooded. But the chief engineer is the boss’s best friend, so we can’t have him doing scut work when there’s booze to be guzzled, can we?The nymocklet out a pathetic screech as it expired under the electrical torment of the Klingon prod.

As the Efrosian resigned himself to heading aft to check the other landing struts, a commotion from a few ships away caught his attention. It sounded like a cross between drunken singing and someone trying to strangle a small animal.