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After the rush of morning chores and then serving lunch, I barely managed to slip away unnoticed to investigate the shaft I spotted yesterday in the pantry. Now I had to move swiftly before the chef or anyone else realized I was gone.
The gaping dark tunnel loomed before me, just big enough to crawl through if I squeezed. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. Getting caught in these restricted ducts meant severe punishment. But the risk would be worth it if I could access Conii’s office undetected.
Hoisting myself up, I wriggled into the claustrophobic passageway. The metal walls pressed in oppressively as I dragged myself forward on elbows and knees. My coveralls provided scant protection from the grimy floor.
Up ahead, a faint echo of voices drifted through the shaft. I paused, holding my breath, but the words were indistinguishable. After a tense moment, the sound faded again. I continued my slow advance, ears straining for any other activity.
The duct angled upward and I scrambled awkwardly over the incline. Ahead, it split into two branches. I wracked my brain trying to visualize the building layout and choose the correct path. Conii’s office had to be to the right. I hoped.
The further I crawled, the clearer the voices became again. This time, I could make out a few disjointed phrases.
“...can’t believe she expects...”
“...more than we’re paid for...”
Guards. Had to be. Meaning I was getting close. Renewed excitement quickened my pace, heedless of the noise I made now. My goal lay just ahead.
Too late, I heard the approaching stomp of footsteps from around a bend up ahead. I froze, but there was nowhere to hide in the exposed shaft. Mere seconds later, a helmeted head appeared in my path.
“Hey!” The Nazok guard’s shocked face quickly morphed into anger. “What are you doing in here, human?”
Panic screamed through me but I forced myself to meet his glare steadily. “Just assessing the duct integrity per Conii’s orders,” I lied, praying my voice didn’t shake and pulling at the cleaning apron I wore. “She wants them all inspected for faults.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed, trying to determine if my claim was legitimate. I held my breath, knowing my life likely hung in the balance of his decision.
After an agonizing pause, he huffed in annoyance. “No one tells us anything around here,” he grumbled. “Fine, but make it quick. And no snooping around!”
With that, he turned and receded down the duct, evidently believing my ruse. I sagged in relief as his footfalls faded. That was far too close. I would have to proceed with greater caution.
Edging around the corner, I saw the shaft end ahead at a vent cover. Holding perfectly still, I listened intently but heard nothing beyond. Conii’s office must lay just on the other side.
It was time.
Slowly, carefully I pried the cover off with the paring knife I grabbed from the pantry.
No wonder she’s taking over half the space station from here.
The size of the room alone spoke to her wealth and status on the station. It was larger than most living quarters, with vaulted ceilings that soared high above.
Her desk appeared carved from a single massive kauri tree imported at astronomical expense from a distant forest world.
The surfaces were adorned with artifacts from across the known galaxies—bejeweled daggers from Tarkai, jewel-toned Mondian glass sculptures, ornate tapestries from far-flung human colonies.
In the seating area, the chairs were upholstered in luxurious vrax leather, dyed in vibrant hues. The low table looked to be carved from ivory-hued fossilstone mined from the quarries of Alton V.
As a stark contrast to the finery, the computer interface sat utilitarian upon the desk. It was a standard station model, as impersonal as the pre-fab metal walls of the lowest decks. But it contained the secrets I desperately needed.
I tapped the pad of the computer, and the screen turned on, requesting a password.
It was tempting to try to figure this out by myself. Would Conii have chosen something random, or used the act of typing her password as a ritual, a reminder of something she loved?
But Taz was right. I needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.
With a breath of gratitude, I slid the thin slip of metal that he gave me out from my apron pocket and into the port, watching the flickering lights as it worked.
I put my elbows on the desk and rubbed my temples with my hands while watching the screen.
What would it be? What would it tell me about the way Conii’s mind worked?
