Fourteen
Sithe
Catarine is gone.
My field of vision narrows. My skin grows cold.
There are signs of a struggle. The data tablet halfway across the room, screen cracked. Stim mug overturned, brazier lids ajar.
If she is dead…
I have a near-overwhelming urge to turn, exit, and carve the shape of Catarine’s body out of the first person I see.
The screen in the communication panel is still on. Two lessers were talking quietly when the door opened; now they stare at me.
I lean in. “What happened?”
“He took her. An Arrisan.” The angular one nervously folds his hands. He speaks with an accent. I suppose Catarine does too, but I never notice it. “He put her in a bag and carried her over his shoulder.”
A bag? She’s still alive. “How long ago?”
“Twenty…twenty-two clicks.”
“Can you identi
