Unravel by Imogen Howson Page A

gender of the person speaking.
    The voice had been cool, and the woman’s eyes were cool too, her jaw a little set.
    â€œCaptain Greythorn?” She held out a hand. “IPL Commander Dacre.”
    As Cadan shook her hand, her gaze flicked past his shoulder, took in the crew—and stopped at Elissa and Lin. Cadan was starting to say something, but she spoke over him.
    â€œI thought we’d find out we were mistaken.”
    Cadan broke off. “Mistaken?” He followed her gaze, and as he realized who she was looking at, his face went a little stiff. “Commander—”
    She didn’t let him finish. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I hoped we’d find out we were mistaken. But no, the case is exactly what, when we picked up your ship entering the atmosphere, we hoped it would not be. You have returned to Sekoia with one of the former Spares we’re fighting to relocate—with the one, moreover, who precipitated the whole situation.”
    From where Elissa stood, her hand clamped in Lin’s, she could see Cadan’s back stiffen. “Commander Dacre, Lin has been given full human status. This is her home planet—she’s free to—”
    â€œFree to return? Yes, thank you, Captain, I’m aware of the legal situation.” The commander’s eyes flicked over Lin again. “She’s alsofree to visit any number of planets that do not adhere to the Interplanetary Charter, that have no laws on human rights or where slavery and forced prostitution are legal and unchecked. She would, however, be well advised not to take her life in her hands by doing so.” The commander looked back at Cadan. “As she—and her sister—have done by coming here. And as you have permitted by bringing them.”
    Next to Elissa, Lin gave an indignant quiver. Elissa dug her nails into her twin’s hand— Lin, don’t, you’ll just make it worse —but she’d reacted too late.
    â€œHe didn’t permit us!” Lin said. “We chose to come.”
    The commander glanced at her. “Unless you can fly a spaceship, he most assuredly did permit you.”
    Lin let go of Elissa’s hand and folded her arms, defiance in every angle of her body. “Well, I nearly can. If he hadn’t taken us, I’d have just had to wait a bit longer till I learned myself—”
    â€œLin,” said Cadan, his voice exasperated, “for the hundredth time —”
    But the commander’s attention had already snapped back to him. “You’ve been teaching her to fly your ship ?”
    There was a world of condemnation in her tone. Cadan flushed. “Yes. Commander, she’s preternaturally fast at picking up that kind of thing. And I’ve been strictly supervising her—it hasn’t been a risk to the safety of the crew at all—”
    â€œGood God.” Commander Dacre sounded as if she hadn’t heard him, as if she were speaking to herself. “And to think we were given to believe that SFI pilots were well trained.”
    Cadan’s flush deepened. He didn’t say anything else.
    Sympathy, and outrage at how the commander was treating him, prickled all over Elissa’s body. She’d thought anyonewith IPL would be . . . respectful, kind, in the way the officials back on Sanctuary had been when she and Lin turned up, exhausted fugitives from their own planet’s authorities.
    â€œAre you aware that they’re being killed here?” The commander directed the question to Cadan. “Spares and their twins?”
    Elissa’s back stiffened. Her chin went up. She’s trying to scare us—or trying to make Cadan feel bad. And, yeah, she’s succeeding, but she doesn’t need to know that she is. “Yes,” she said before Cadan could. “We heard about the attacks.”
    The commander eyed her, her expression chilly. “Did you also hear