by Kelly Gay
“Is he still around, your granddad?”
“He died of Boren’s Syndrome when I was sixteen.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Lessa admitted. “We didn’t get much in the way of learning back home.”
Rion gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s caused by the effects of war, exposure to radiation, certain gases, that kind of thing. Takes a toll . . . My grandfather was a marine, fought in the Insurrection, was away for long periods of time like my father. He was one of those larger-than-life types, you know? But Boren’s, it ate at his mind and body.” She met Lessa’s gaze and gave a halfhearted smile. “He didn’t regret it though. Said it was his choice. He told me a lot of things in his final years. . . .”
“They’d be proud of you.” At Rion’s snort, Lessa frowned. “You don’t think so?”
“Well, look around you. I didn’t exactly follow in the Forge family footsteps. Instead, I’m trailing behind all their wars and battles, picking at the bones of their leftovers and selling salvage to their allies and their enemies. Honestly, I think they’d be appalled.”
“Well, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You have a real nice ship, a good business, and you’re not too bad a boss either.”
Rion smiled. “Thanks.”
“I know for a fact that if you hadn’t picked us up, Niko would either be working the mines and probably sick by now, or he’d be lost in the guilds. You gave us a home. You didn’t have to do that.” Lessa chewed on her bottom lip, and once again focused intently on her fingernails.
“I’m glad to have you two on board.” Rion’s smile was sweet and grateful and caring, and Lessa wanted to crawl under the control panel. Her throat went thick. She’d always wanted someone to look at her like that—like they gave a damn—but now that someone had, it hurt, because it brought to the forefront the lack of any kind of love or attention she had growing up on Aleria.
“Is everything all right?” Rion asked.
Her defenses flared to the surface. “Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”
Well, there it was. The perfect opening to talk. To finally gain more of a personal relationship with the captain. Lessa was burning inside, burning to tell someone about her past and the things that had happened to her back home, the horrible things she’d done to survive and to protect Niko. It was getting harder and harder to hold it in. . . .
And when the moment was right there in front of her, she panicked and turned coward.
“I don’t know, you tell me.” Rion countered with a curious tilt to her head, her dark eyes seeming like they could see every tiny horror on Lessa’s conscience. “Is it Kip?”
Lessa blinked. “What?” Her face went hotter.
Rion let out a soft chuckle. “Never mind. Just . . . maybe don’t go rushing into anything. There’s time. Provided Kip doesn’t jump ship, we’re all going to be stuck together for a while. It’s worth the time to get to know someone.”
“Well, I don’t . . . I mean, he’s older. Not that I don’t find him—ugh. Just shut up, Lessa.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I’m so embarrassed now.” A light blinking on comms saved her from sinking into a deeper well of mortification. “I think this is for you,” she said, noting Nor’s call sign.
* * *
“You start asking around about a Covenant destroyer, and things might go bad for you,” Nor said from behind her desk after Rion gave the Kig-Yar a vague summary of events on Eiro. “Trust me, I know. You might just”—she made an exploding motion with her claws, the sharp talons flicking outward—“disappear.”
From the privacy of her quarters, Rion sat back in her chair and studied Nor’s avian face. “Is that a threat, Nor Fel?” she asked, even though she knew it wasn’t; she just liked to ruffle the old bird’s feathers.
Nor’s yellow eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to the screen. “Is fact. Dangerous times, you know this. Vestiges of the Covenant everywhere, pirates, smugglers, marauders . . . all want big guns. All searching the systems, building armies.”
Rion paused, mulling over how she wanted to play this. “Eiro was a bust. I lost credits on this salvage—salvage you pointed me to, intel I paid good money for. It’s not good business, Nor, giving bad intel.”
The Kig-Yar leaned forward again, her beak nearly touching the screen, so close Rion could only see the outside corners of Nor’s eyes. “Rouse’s intel, not mine. And it was good. You found your scrap, no?”
“Found it and lost it. I paid you. You sent me to Rouse. I went on a pricey trip for zero return. I lost my grav carts and tools in the process. Someone sold away my intel.” Rion’s look turned calculating. Time to watch the fireworks. “Maybe I should just ask for my credits back.”
As expected, Nor’s shriek vibrated the speakers and her feathers shot straight up. The image wobbled, a blur of beak, plumage, and flashy accessories as the Kig-Yar’s heavy fists slammed down upon the desk.
While Rion didn’t think Nor or Rouse would’ve double-sold her intel, she wanted to get under Nor’s skin, to light a fire and gain some information, if she could. And the number one thing that got under Nor’s skin was having to dole out a refund. Once the Kig-Yar had even a single credit in her possession, giving it back was tantamount to torture.
“Look, I’ll forgo the refund,” Rion finally said, “in return for information. Good information this time.”
Nor rearranged the glass beads hanging around her neck and righted a few shiny rings on her fingers. “Not dealing in destroyers. Already told you this.”
“I don’t want the destroyer. I want what’s inside it. And it’s not a weapon. You know me—I don’t deal in the heavies. You do this for me . . . and I’ll be in your debt for a change.”
This seemed to make Nor very intrigued. “No refund?”
“No refund. I know your network has access to old Covenant intel, military history, records, transmissions. I want to know where the Radiant Perception ended up, if it was destroyed, where it was scrapped . . . anything at all.”
Nor thought about it for a moment, and then bowed her head slightly. “Just this once then. Next time you suck up your loss like a big girl, eh? I will be in touch.” The transmission ended, leaving Rion without the opportunity for a comeback.
“Damn bird,” she muttered, sitting back and biting her lip as she thought things through.
Radiant Perception couldn’t have simply disappeared. A CPV-class heavy destroyer would have been an integral part of the Covenant fleet. Given the date, it was highly probable that the ship was part of the first wave of Covenant forces that had begun humanity’s destruction with Harvest and continued on, creating as much devastation as possible. Any number of things might have happened to the vessel. But there should be a record or a mention somewhere; a ship that size didn’t just fade into oblivion.
As Rion turned off her screen and sank back into her chair, she mentally prepared herself for the most likely scenario to come from all this: nothing. While the chances of finding out what had happened to Radiant Perception were decent, those of locating it intact and with the buoy still on board were astronomically low.
But then again, her dad always said Lady Luck was on their side. . . .
* * *
“One more, Daddy, please!” she begged with tears stinging her eyes. But she wouldn’t cry; she was tougher than that. He always called her his tough little lady, and she had to live up to the pride she saw in his eyes whenever he said it. Besides, crying always made him sad, always made that flash of guilt come into his eyes.
And she never wanted her daddy to feel bad. Ever.
And especially not in the short amount of time they had together.
“All right, kid, one more. You deal.”
She parked her elbows on the kitchen table and regarded him with a narrow look. “Loser deals.”
He laughed at tha
t, the lines around his eyes crinkling and his grin deep. She wanted to crawl over the table and throw her arms around him and beg him not to go. But she wouldn’t.
So it was always one more game. As many more as he’d allow until he couldn’t put off leaving any longer.
Once the cards were dealt, she grabbed her stack and faced her opponent. He was a big man, her father, with wide shoulders and scars and nicks all over if you knew where to look. Scrapes and cuts that marked every battle, every tour, every year away from her.
In his video messages home, he’d always show her the new ones. Some might think that would scare a child, make them even more worried. But for Lucy, it only proved how strong he was, how he came through every single time.
“War!” she cried, delighted as they turned over the same card and then spoke the rhyme. He won with an ace, looking pleased. “See, told ya. Lucky card.” He winked, flicking her on the nose with it.
“Take it with you then.” She wanted him to have all the luck he could get. She knew there was a war going on, a real one, not some game played at a kitchen table. She didn’t know what it was about or why people were fighting, but she knew it was up there, way past the sky, where the stars lived.
“When you come home next, Momma says I’ll be a big girl, maybe even double digits. You might not even recognize me.”
He chuckled at that. “Have you looked in the mirror, kid?” Then he gave her a rare, serious look. Solemn. Emotional. “Me and you, we’re a team. And a team sticks together, no matter the time or the distance. Don’t for one second think I won’t recognize you, Lucy O.”
She loved it when he called her Lucy O. Never her entire middle name, Orion; just the O. It was special. Something only he did.
“Plus, we get to see each other,” she reminded him, wanting him to feel better, to erase the sadness that had settled over him.
“Through messages, that’s right. And you know I’ll be sending you pictures of all the places I go.”
And she’d have them printed and put in the scrapbook he’d bought for her.
They turned another set of cards.
And she had to bite her lip to stop the words that wanted to flood out of her mouth. Please. Don’t go.
As he placed a card down, he held it there until she looked at him, sensing her struggle. “I love you, kid. Never forget that. I’ll be fine. I’m good at what I do. It’s in my blood. It’s all I know, and it’ll see me through and back here to you.” He gave her a confident smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “No need to worry, I’ve got Lady Luck on my side.”
He tucked the playing card, the ace she told him to keep, under his sleeve.
They turned their cards over onto the table again. “War,” she said softly.
She won that time. And with each card turned, it felt like the clock on the wall counting down to him walking out the door.
“Hey,” he said gently, reaching across the table to lift her chin. And she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Fat tears rolled from her eyes and her bottom lip quivered as she tried desperately to be strong and make him proud. “Aw, Loose, come here.” He reached beneath her arms and brought her over the table until she was curled in his lap.
Her arms went around his neck and she held on tight, sobbing. How could she tell him how much she needed him when she didn’t even know the words to say? Inside, her heart hurt and stretched like a balloon growing bigger and bigger until it might burst.
And then, inevitably, he was handing her over to her mother. He leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek, then joined his own father waiting by the door.
She watched him from the doorway, the sunlight nearly blinding her, so that all she could see was his outline moving down the walk and into the waiting car.
It was the last time she saw her father.
EIGHT
* * *
* * *
Ace of Spades, approaching Chi Rho comm sat
Niko was still running queries, intent on finding the tag, and coming up against a technology far beyond anything they’d come across before. Rion stood in the doorway to his quarters, the place a chaotic mess as usual—prints taped on the wall, notes haphazardly stuck on furniture and devices, clothes strewn on the floor . . . “If I told you to take a break, would you listen?”
He yawned, his eyes tracing across one of three monitors on his desk. “Probably not.”
“We’re coming up on Chi Rho. You’ll have to table this once we’re in range.”
As she went to leave, he finally peeled his eyes from the screen. They were bloodshot and a little crazed. The kid was running on fumes. “We need an AI.”
Not the first time he’d said so. And it wouldn’t be the last.
“We have one.”
“Yeah, a dumb one.” He paused to take a drink from the bottle by his keypad. “Thing can only run systems. It can’t find a tag. We need a smart AI. It would have found the tag the minute it was placed.”
“You buying, kid? Because a smart AI is the cost of a damn ship, maybe more depending on the model and grade. Besides,” she told him with a sweet smile, “you’re my AI. And you didn’t cost me a thing.”
He rolled his eyes. As she left, she heard him mutter, “And I must be dumb too . . . dodgy little bastard doesn’t want to be found.”
“Take a break, Niko!” she called out while walking down the narrow corridor to the bridge.
There, Lessa was at comms scrolling through search results. She’d been at it for a few hours, mostly focusing on chatter, old accounts, and war stories, looking for any mention of the Radiant Perception. Kip was up from engineering and seated at the nav console, also glued to a screen and combing through archived military records. Cade was still in the hold, continuing work on the tracking system. He’d already used some of his old contacts to ask around discreetly about the destroyer and see if the name rang any bells, but it’d be a while before he got answers.
Rion sat in her chair as Ace settled into high orbit above Chi Rho. The comm sat was four thousand kilometers below them, give or take. Radar looked good. A small passenger vessel was on standard descent to the planet, and there was another heavy freighter in low orbit, unloading cargo onto smaller transports. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing emitting a signal similar to the one Niko had picked up from the stealth ship on Eiro.
Still, she kept Ace as dark as possible.
“Niko, we’re in range.”
“Fine. I’ll patch you in from here,” he answered over comms.
While Niko worked his magic, Rion pulled up her system logs and counted resources, noting how much food and drink was left in the dispensers, their water and oxygen reserves, and fuel cells.
“All right, you’re in. Search away,” Niko said.
They went to work, using the boost to reach into places and archives that might shed some light on the whereabouts of the Radiant Perception.
A solid hour went by and Rion’s frustrations grew. “Anything?” she asked Kip and Lessa, even though she knew they’d tell her as soon as anything popped up.
Lessa turned slightly, chin parked in her hand, and shook her head. “Nothing. These old war accounts are really depressing though.”
“You’d think if the Radiant Perception was part of the first wave of Covenant that came through and started glassing planets,” Kip said, “there’d be records of their progression, where they went before Arcadia and where they went after. But there are large gaps of time, discrepancies. . . .”
“Welcome to research hell,” Rion said. “Glassed planets don’t have good records, especially ones in the Outer Colonies. Good luck getting an accurate—”
“I found it! I found the little bastard!” Niko burst onto the bridge like some rabid Dwarkan squirrel. He glanced at them, eyes wide and blinking. He held a flat, square-shaped object in his palm, matte black a
nd inconspicuous. “I found it.” The maniacal glee in his voice made Rion’s brow lift.
“Boy, you’ve finally gone off the deep end,” Lessa muttered. “Always said it was a matter of time. . . .”
Rion motioned him over. The tag was sleek and surprisingly heavy for as small as it was. “Where’d you find it?”
“In the aft landing-gear well. Cade helped me get it out.”
Rion’s temper flared as she placed the device back in Niko’s hand, holding it there and looking the kid straight in the eye. “Eat something. Take a shower and a nap. Then I want you to pull the guts out of this thing and find out who made it tick.”
“You’re not going to destroy it?” Kip asked.
“It’s salvage. Belongs to us now.” Inside that small black square was a transmitter, and Rion intended to find out exactly who was on the receiving end.
“Rion, there’s a message coming through from Nor,” Lessa said. “Assuming you want to answer?”
“I do. Patch it through to my quarters. And Niko?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“After you’re rested and back in the land of the living, I have a second job for you.”
He frowned. “I want a raise.”
* * *
Rion slid into her desk chair, turned on her display, and opened the blinking channel. Nor Fel’s curved beak appeared so suddenly and so close that it gave Rion a start. Nor sat back, cackling.
“Real funny, Nor. You found something?”
Nor’s humor evaporated. And Rion was surprised to note that the old bird actually seemed a little uncomfortable. Though, with the Kig-Yar, it was hard to detect subtle emotions—all those nuances and facial expressions that were so easy to read on the human face were much more difficult in many of the alien species.
Nor tapped her claws on the tabletop. The tick, tick, tick was unnerving.