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“Might be dead. If not, might wish he were.”
    “He’s high-up intel. A Director?”
    Caylar came around and began adjusting my straps. “You saw what happened back there. They were darn serious.”
    “They should’ve had us. Pretty disorganized.”
    “I agree,” said Caylar. “Not professional.”
    From above Mr. Loams added, “They didn’t have much time. Capital Galactic doesn’t have a lot of contacts around Mars.”
    I asked Loams, “Did you take out the hanger security?”
    “Yes,” he replied. “They should still be seeing him standing guard. A loop of a prerecorded surveillance.” He chuckled. “Even programmed in our departure. It should take them some time to find something amiss. Thirty minutes minimum.”
    “Still, won’t they have to worry about Varney and Simms?”
    “Director Simms radioed in indicating terrorist action,” said Caylar. “That allowed the Iron Armadillo ’s marines to board.”
    “And the captain of the Pars Griffin can use that to deflect any accusations against Capital Galactic?”
    Caylar nodded while tightening a strap. “What’s this?” He pulled from under the covers a small wooden carving. A four inch bust of someone wearing a hat.
    I held out my unsteady hand. “Let me see.” I examined carving. It looked like my work so I checked the bottom. “Read this.”
    “It has the initials KRKY,” said Caylar. “Fancy script.”
    “This is my work! Diplomat Silvre must’ve put it there. Right where the holo-mechanism was.”
    Caylar looked at the small bust. “Not bad work. Authentic wood.”
    “I learned to carve before I was ten. Do it for bartering, extra credits.” I looked at it closer. “I don’t recall carving this. Does it look familiar to you?”
    Caylar held it a moment. “Someone R-Tech, a youth. Buttoned shirt, floppy-brimmed hat. Looks like a fishing hat. That must’ve been difficult to carve.”
    “Hey! Is it that—you know—the one I was supposed to have abducted?”
    “Maximar Drizdon Junior?” Caylar reappraised the bust. “Could be him.”
    I didn’t bother questioning why my nurse knew the specifics of my supposed crimes. “What would Diplomat Silvre be doing with it? My carving?”
    “Drizdon is married to her step sister, I think.” He paused. “Yes, Maximar Junior must be her nephew with Maximar Senior her brother in law.”
    “What?” The pain meds made it increasingly difficult to think.
    “I don’t know. I saw them only once, briefly. I’m simply her personal assistant. A bodyguard.” He scratched his head. “She didn’t say a lot. I was assigned to her less than four months ago.” He thought a moment. “Maybe your friend Mr. Loams knows more.”
    From above echoed, “We have clearance.”
    “No dawdling,” suggested Caylar. “Let’s put some distance between us.”
    “Agreed.” After a moment Loams finished, “We’re on our way.”
    I felt our acceleration before the yacht’s gravity plates kicked in. “Where are we heading?”
    “I’m not sure,” said Caylar. “I think we’re to meet up with another vessel shortly.” He reviewed my vital signs. “Not good.”
    I already knew. In addition to my head, a throbbing in my chest had been growing along with a dull pain in my abdomen.
    After a few minutes of intense work Caylar looked me in the eye. “Your internal bleeding has increased. I’ve made adjustments.” He shook his head. “Your lungs are still in good condition, all things considered.”
    “I know. I’m in pretty bad shape.”
    He nodded sagely. “You should get some rest.”
    “But...” I began to argue, but knew he was correct.
    Caylar continued to tap at the numerous icons and turn an occasional dial. I looked again. Dials meant the medical equipment was military. Hardened against electronic interference.
    “I’m going to have to insist.” He lowered the bed to fifteen degrees elevation. Then he went back to the engine room. With the door open the engine hum