by Celia Kyle
“Huh? Oh—nothing,” I lie, quickly diverting my gaze from the entrance. Grantian has just walked in and, somehow, my subconscious picked up on his presence. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was sneaking a glance at him. Even now, as I try to focus on Marion and her scowl, I still feel that magnetic pull tugging at my insides. It’s as if Grantian has put me under some kind of Kilgari spell, one that I can’t shake off no matter how hard I try.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Marion says, knitting her eyebrows together as she looks at the entrance, still in time to see Grantian walk in and look around the mess in search of a place to sit. He doesn’t notice us sitting at the back and that has me exhaling with relief. “I see you’ve made a friend. Not bad. He’s kind of handsome, if you manage to look past his permanent angry scowl.”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Oh, really?” She laughs. “Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing,” I tell her, but I still feel warm blood rushing to my cheeks. Yeah, she’s right. I’m a terrible liar. “We’re just friends, Marion. That’s all. He’s been helping us out.”
“Every single one of the Kilgari is helping us out,” she insists. “But I get it. This particular Kilgari is helping you out. How good is he at, uh, ‘helping out’? I’ve tried to get some details out of Varia, but that one doesn’t really like sharing.”
“Seriously, it’s nothing like that,” I repeat, but Marion just shakes her head and pushes to her feet. “I mean it.”
“Well, it might be true right now,” she tells me with that amused smile of hers. “But I’d say it won’t be for much longer. I’ve seen the look on your face, Lamira, and that look means trouble. The good kind of trouble, of course.” With a little wink, she finally turns and waltzes off toward the kitchen. I remain sitting by the corner, weighing her words on my mind while I stuff the rest of the cake into my mouth.
Grantian still hasn’t noticed me, thankfully, and he’s joined the Kilgari mechanics at the center table. Two of them open a spot for him and, although the conversation they were having seems to continue, I notice the raucous laughter from before has died down. That isn’t exactly surprising. Grantian’s rank and gruff demeanor command a lot of respect around here, and I’ve seen the way the other Kilgari look at him. I wouldn’t go as far as saying they’re afraid of him, but they sure as hell straighten their backs whenever Grantian’s around. Even when he’s with Solair, he’s usually the one acting more brusque—despite the fact that type of behavior would only be expected of a ship’s captain.
Maybe that has something to do with his past. He was a mercenary with the Hael Hounds, and that had to have some kind of impact on him. Most of what I know about the Hael Hounds are stories that are probably nothing more than exaggerations and myths, but the fact remains that its members command a lot of respect, even after they’ve stopped being a part of the organization.
It’s weird.
Everything about Grantian tells me I shouldn’t trust him, but I can’t stop myself. Sure, he’s an ex-mercenary-turned-smuggler, someone whose life revolves around crime and money, but whenever I look into his eyes...it’s hard to explain, but something there makes me lower my defenses, whether I like it or not.
“Yup, I’m definitely losing my mind,” I whisper to myself, wiping the crumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand. Sighing, I lean on my seat as I glance at Grantian once more. I just hope he’ll be able to convince Solair to take us to Consolation. The truth of what happened to us lies somewhere in that blue moon and, until we find out exactly why we were aboard the Frontier, none of us will have a good night of sleep ever again.
We need answers.
And the sooner, the better.
Chapter Sixteen
Grantian
“Shit.”
Sitting up on my bunk, I fumble in the dark for my datapad. I jab my thumb at the damn thing once I find it, frowning as the screen lights up, and stretch my back. Judging by how well-rested I’m feeling mere seconds after waking up, I immediately assume I have overslept and am late for my shift. As it turns out, I’m wrong. I’m supposed to be on the bridge two hours from now, which means that I can go back to sleep.
Kicking the sheets back, I decide against allowing slumber to lull me back to bed.
Sleep is a waste of time, and I’d rather be doing something productive. If a Kilgari wants to cut it as a member of the Ancestral Queen, he can’t afford to be a lazy bastard. Besides, I’ve postponed my conversation with Solair long enough, and I think it’s time we talk about Solace. Even if there are other priorities for us to consider, there’s no denying that figuring out what happened to the women is essential. After all, the women need the truth of what happened to them, and the Kilgari crewmen need to know what they’ve gotten themselves into.
With that one thought burning in my mind, I get myself dressed in a make-shift uniform of sorts and put on my combat boots. I don’t really need to wear them all the time, but old habits die hard. I like being ready to kick someone in the face should the chance arise. Once I’m ready, I leave the room and head straight to the bridge, nodding my acknowledgment as some of the crewmen greet me with half-assed salutes. We work on three rotating shifts at all times, and that means there’s never a moment of quiet aboard the Ancestral Queen.
Just how I like it.
When I finally stroll into the bridge, I immediately spot Varia and Solair beside the main console. The two seem to be deep in conversation, and they don’t even notice me approaching. I got here right on time, it seems, as their subject seems to be exactly what I had in mind.
“Look, I get it,” Varia continues saying and, judging by her insistence, she’s already repeating herself. “You want to go back to your privateering ways, and that’s well within your right. We don’t want to impose on you, but I think the women also have the right to know what happened to them, and you guys are the only ones who can help us.”
“Varia, like I said, it’s just—”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” she cuts him short, her words those of a female refusing to budge. “But it is important, and you know it. We need to know the truth of what’s going on so that we can come up with a solution for this entire mess. I mean, it’s not like we can go on like this forever. You’re smugglers, and you like flying under the radar. Having more than a hundred wanted criminals aboard your ship isn’t going to help matters. You need a solution just as much as we do.”
“A trip to Consolation will take time, and time is money,” Solair throws back. I can tell he’s growing impatient. He isn’t used to being second-guessed. The only one who can do it without any real consequences is me. “Right now, we’re running low on both. Our priority should be finding a job that could net us a profit. We can’t keep going if we’re running on fumes.”
“I might have a solution for that.” Clearing my throat, I take one step forward. Varia and Solair turn around at the same time and, for a moment, I become the object of their undivided attention. It’s about time. I was already starting to get bored with their useless back-and-forth. I just hope the rest of the women aren’t as combative as Varia, or else I might have to buy a set of earplugs. Thankfully, Lamira doesn’t seem to—
Stop thinking of her, I tell myself. Focus.
“Well?” Solair crosses his arms as he stares at me. He doesn’t look too hopeful about my potential solution, but I don’t blame him. If I were the one in charge of the entire crew, I would be one skeptic bastard as well. “What do you have in mind?”
“To start with, I think Varia’s right,” I tell him, and that causes his frown to deepen. I’m not particularly concerned. Solair’s used to my brutal honesty, and I know he appreciates it. After all, I wasn’t chosen as his second because I’m a kind, loving soul. He knows I don’t fuck around. “The women deserve to know why they were aboard the Frontier, as much as they need to understand why the IHC is looking for them. But it’s not just
about them. If the IHC is doing something shady, we should all want answers.”
“Fine,” Solair grumbles. “I get it. It’s hard to argue against that. But right now, I don’t need the ‘why.’ I need the ‘how.’”
“Lucky for you, I have both.” Reaching for the console, I force a holographic map of the quadrant to appear in front of us. I set our target coordinates as Consolation, but then add a midway point to the trajectory and change the route slightly, highlighting another planet. “We can plot a course for Consolation by way of Glimner. It’ll add some travel time, but it’ll solve some of our problems.”
“Glimner?” Varia quirks a single eyebrow.
“That’s right,” I say. “The galactic capital of organized crime. And tourist traps. And pleasure. If there’s any information to be found about Tartus and Solace, we’ll come across it there. We can also pick up a side job while we’re there, something that’ll keep us afloat for the time being. If we want information and a quick and dirty job, Glimner’s the place.”
There’s a moment of silence as Solair considers my plan, and I can almost see the gears turning inside his head. Despite the lawlessness of a place such as Glimner, something that should be attractive for a crew like ours, the inherent risks shouldn’t be overlooked. Still, the fact remains that a little visit to the capital of crime and extravagance is the only thing that satisfies all of our current needs.
“Fine,” Solair finally agrees, his mouth settling into a hard line. He looks at Varia, gives her a little nod, and then turns toward me. “I can’t say I like it, but your plan does make sense. I want you to work with Swipt and Lokyer. Check all reports for the sectors we’ll be going through and see if anyone logged any unusual activity or patrols in those areas. If we’re going to do this, I want to have as much information as we can. We need to avoid any surprises.”
“You don’t have to worry,” I say. “I always do my due diligence.”
“Then get to it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lamira
Since the Frontier women have more or less acclimated to life aboard the Ancestral Queen, several spots on the ship are favorites.
One is obviously the showers. You can pretty much always find a line there night or day. Another spot, which seems to encourage clusters of women and even Kilgari, is the observation deck. The multiple, wide glassteel panels provide a breathtaking vista of the tapestry of stars, and since it’s located on the fore deck, it’s arguably the most fun place to be when the ship jumps to superluminal speed.
But as popular as those places might be, one spot remains the undisputed, unrivaled favorite of nearly everyone—the mess hall.
Part of it is the food—who doesn’t like food?—and between Marion and Jax there’s always something tasty on the agenda. But I also think a major factor is its relatively central location. It’s about the same distance walk to reach the mess hall from almost anywhere on the ship.
And finally, last but certainly not least, is the maestro of mayhem himself, Jax. No matter what’s going on, he always greets everyone with a smile as warm as the summer sun. If the mess hall weren’t centrally located, I’m still willing to bet people would gravitate here because of his soothing presence. The only sensation I can draw an analogy to is when I was a kid and my parents cooked in the kitchen. I felt safe, like things were being taken care of and I could just relax.
I originally wanted to come here for a calming cup of the fungal tea Jax cultivates. I know, fungus in your tea sounds revolting, and I was skeptical at first, but it’s got a charming flavor akin to lavender. It really does help with anxiety.
Apparently some sapients will skip the tea and just consume mass quantities of the mushroom directly to enter a kind of euphoric yet slovenly state, but Jax keeps his larder well organized and inventoried.
I’d barely taken a sip when Thrase and Marion roped me into a game of Twonk. Since I was kind of wanting to be alone with my thoughts—and possibly untangle the web of feelings surrounding myself and Grantian—I tried to bow out. But when I pointed out I didn’t have any of the crispy cinnamon cookies Jax bakes for a buy-in, Thrase countered by loaning me a cookie.
Now, seeing how things turned out, she may be regretting that decision. At the moment, we’re sitting in studious silence staring at our cards while the vast majority of cookies have accumulated in front of me.
Thrase’s eyes narrow, the only part of her face visible over her fanned out hand. Her voice drips with self-recrimination when she speaks. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’ve stumbled into the trap of a, to use the parlance favored by those of ill repute, stinking card shark.”
“Don’t be like that, Thrase.” Marion frowns at her own hand. “Lamira is too sweet and innocent to cheat.”
“Aw, thanks Marion.” I grin at her over my cards.
“Of course, she’s not nearly as good a player as me, so it must be pure blind luck.” I stick my tongue out at Marion while she chuckles.
“At last, a hypothesis I can agree with.” Thrase tosses half a cookie into the pot. “I’ll raise.”
“By half a cookie? You high roller.” Marion tosses in her half of a cookie to the pot. “Your turn, Lamira.”
I wince behind my hand because I sort of feel bad for being on this hot streak. Right now, I’m holding four Priestesses (which Thrase insists on calling Companions despite their depictions clearly being Grolgath) and I’m pretty sure I saw two of the Commanders burn. For some reason I think Marion has been collecting Stardrives, which are wild this go around, but I have no logical basis for that feeling.
So, I’m most likely going to win this hand, but I don’t want to. “Gee, guys, I think I might have to fold.”
“Negative.” Thrase glares over her cards. “I insist upon seeing your cards. Come on. What have you got to lose? I staked you into this game.”
Great, like I need more guilt. Sighing, I throw in my half cookie.
Thrase tosses in two more cookies and smiles wickedly across the table at me. “I call.”
“Oh, this is going to be good.” The two women lay down their hands, and it’s as I figured. Thrase has a Skeleton Crew—Commander, Engineer, and Pilot—and Marion has three Lieutenants, but I win again.
“Fuck this stupid game.” Thrase tosses her cards down in disgust. “I need to see Nicari about our next cryosleep patient anyway.”
“Wait, Thrase, you can have my winnings.”
“Oh no. You won fair and square. Let the guilt stab you deep in your little heart.”
Thrase struts off, and I laugh helplessly.
Marion gathers up the deck and rises from her seat as well. “I’ve got some inventories to go over, myself. Take care.”
She tousles my hair on her way out, and I feel all warm on the inside. Marion’s a great gal.
That leaves me with a huge pile of cookies and not much appetite for them, but then my savior appears. Varia strolls into the mess hall, her eyes scanning the room intently. She still takes time to smile and wave at Jax before working her way over to me.
“You’re just in time, bestie.” I gesture to the pile of cookies. “Please help me with this hoard of spoils.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Varia picks up a cookie and takes a bite out of it, crumbs sprinkling to the tabletop. She then fixes me with a somber stare and speaks around a mouthful of dessert. “What did you say to Grantian?”
“Grantian?” I feel a little thrill in my belly at the mention of his name. Damn it, but I’ve got it bad. “I—not much. I just asked him to speak with Solair about visiting Solace—I mean, Consolation.” I swallow hard before continuing. “Uh, I didn’t overstep my bounds. Did I? I mean, by messing up the chain of command…”
Varia waves off my concerns, and I relax. “Solair’s pretty informal with that sort of thing, and no, you didn’t overstep your bounds. He just seemed very intent upon making his point to Solair. I’m not sure if our erstwhile captain would have agreed to take the risk if not
for Grantian’s impassioned plea that he do so.”
Varia leans back in her seat and munches another cookie from the pile. She arches an eyebrow and points at me before she starts speaking again. “You, you and Grantian… he seems awfully concerned about us girls for a former Hael Hound mercenary. Don’t you think?”
I’m too embarrassed to comment, so I stare at the pile of cookies on the table. I can feel my cheeks burning, however, a fact of which the perceptive Varia is no doubt aware.
“I knew it.” She slams her fist on the table and laughs. “You two have got something going on. Don’t you?”
“Oh god.” I cover my face with my hands. “I just don’t know how to deal with all this. Really, Varia, all we’ve been doing is, is talking—you know? Just talking. But he really listens—he’s such a good listener—and I’d kind of like to think he feels the same about me.” I get some composure and shake my head forcefully. “But look, that doesn’t mean there’s anything romantic going on. A man and a woman can talk without it turning into…” I grasp at the air for the right words but fail to find them. “… a, a thing.”
“Of course, they can.” My eyes narrow in suspicion because Varia seems to be giving up awfully easily this time. “I mean… you probably don’t even find him attractive. Right?”
“Oh no.” I hold up my hand and gape in fear. “No, that’s not what I mean at all.”
“So, you do think he’s handsome?”
I laugh helplessly. “Come on, Varia. I know you think I’m innocent, but I’m no blushing virgin. Of course I think he’s handsome. For heaven’s sake, he’s a bona fide stud.”
Varia cackles, and I hide my face behind my hands again.
“Oh god, that came out all wrong.” I look at her sternly and point my finger. “Look, Varia, he’s just kind and helpful, and he makes me feel comfortable. So we’ve been hanging out a lot. That’s it.”