Read Rebel Ice for Free Online Page B

involved in the transaction. "I ran the logs myself."
    "The logs simply showed that the ship was one of many in the vicinity of Oenrall at the time of the massacre," Xonea reminded him.
    "That transport received orders to depart Oenrall for Akkabarr on the same day Cherijo was abducted. It arrived. It never departed. She was on it." And she was down there, waiting for him. It was all very logical.
    "The Mother of All Houses prove you right." The big Jorenian rubbed a dark blue, six-fingered hand over his brow. "You cannot land on the surface. It is too dangerous. Every pilot who has attempted it is dead."
    Reever glanced briefly at him before he selected a dagger from his weapons storage unit and tucked it into his sleeve sheath.
    "Very well, what say you somehow succeed where so many have not, and make a successful landing."
    Xonea stepped between Reever and the storage unit before he could take out another blade. "The surface dwellers are in revolt against the Toskald. If they find you, they will kill you."
    "They can try." Reever knew precisely how dangerous the natives were; he had been studying all known aspects of Iisleg culture, along with their origins, for weeks. They might try to kill him, but many had tried, and all had failed. Besides, he had other plans for the rebels.
    There is only one thing better than defeating an enemy , the old priest Arembel, another Hsktskt captive who like Reever had been forced to fight in the slaver arena, had told him. Make the enemy work for you .
    "You may go to your death for nothing. We have not seen her for—"
    "Two years, forty-six days, nine hours, and eighteen minutes." Reever reached around him and took out two more knives. These were Omorr-made, and slid into the sheaths strapped to the outsides of his thighs. He preferred fighting with Omorr weapons in subzero conditions; extreme cold did not affect their brilliantly forged steel.
    "Duncan." Although the Jorenian people were accustomed to making frequent physical gestures of affection, Xonea did not make the mistake of touching him. "You must be prepared for the worst."
    "That is why I am packing." On impulse, Reever picked up a handheld voice recorder and tucked it into a pocket.
    Frustrated, the larger man made a careless gesture toward the viewer. "So you survive it all, to do what? Find what is left of her? You would scan every pile of bones down on that ice ball for her DNA?"
    The ghost of Cherijo's first love, Kao Torin, looked out at Reever from Xonea's solid white eyes. Before
    The captain of the Sunlace wasn't finished. "What say you if she is? What do you then, Duncan? Will you lie down with her remains? Will you embrace the stars while you hold a corpse in a bed of snow?"
    "She is not dead." He couldn't explain why he was convinced of it. He knew only that if she had died, he would have felt her go. He was sure of that.
    As sure as he knew that he would do exactly as Xonea predicted if he discovered he was wrong.
    "There is nothing I may say that will persuade you to abandon this quest, is there?" Xonea, not expecting an answer, turned to leave, and then hesitated. Without looking at Reever, he said, "I say these things not to wish her gone, Duncan. I honored her. We all of us honored her."
    There was no Jorenian word for love . The closest to it was honor , which still did not equate the same word in every other language Reever knew. Jorenian honor meant far more than mere admiration or respect. It encompassed a degree of personal devotion greater than most humanoids were capable of feeling.
    Reever's wife had lived with that sort of honor. He had lived for her, and now he lived for those four words.
    Go. Find her. Hurry.
    The door panel opened before Xonea reached it and a petite Terran child with bubbly blond hair darted into the room and dodged around Xonea to fling herself at Reever's legs. Her small arms formed a tight cinch around his knees. "Daddy, don't go."
    "Marel." Reever gently loosened his