by Kyle, Celia
“Never mind that,” she hurries to say, and then she turns around and places one hand on my arm. She runs her tongue over her parched lips, as if she’s searching for the right words to say, and then exhales sharply. “They were talking about Solace, Grantian.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” she insists. “Have you ever heard of Tartus? They said there’s an abandoned base on one of its moons, and that someone is operating out of there. According to what they were saying, that moon is called Solace. That has to be what the woman babbled about before falling into a coma. They were talking about joining up with whoever’s on that moon, and I… I kinda lost it, that’s why I dropped the melons. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I tell her, forcing a smile onto my lips even though I don’t really feel like smiling. Whatever Solace might be, it sure as fuck isn’t good news. Especially if they’re recruiting personnel on a shithole like Kyvos. “You did great, Lamira. Now we have a clue we can follow. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“It’s just that… I don’t like the sound of any of it,” she admits, her voice cracking. Biting on her bottom lip, she tries to remain strong, but it’s getting hard for her to do. “The way these guys were talking… it scares me.”
“I know.” Laying one hand on her shoulder, I do my best to reassure her. “Look, we’ve spent enough time on this colony as it is. If the others are ready, I think it’s time we get back to the ship. Once we’re back, that techie friend of yours—”
“Fiona.”
“Right, Fiona,” I say. “She can help us do some research into Tartus. We’ll know more then. Does that sound like a plan?”
“Yeah,” she replies with a nervous nod. “It does.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Eleven
Lamira
I can’t stop shaking. It’s been several minutes since my harrowing ordeal with the guards, but I still can’t stop the trembles racking my frame.
Even now, with Grantian’s comforting presence looming over me in the back alley, I can’t shake the feeling of imminent danger. My heart pounds relentlessly, my blood rushing so loudly through my veins I can barely hear myself think.
That was the most terrifying moment I’ve experienced yet, easily trumping my panicked awakening in a cryopod on the Frontier. There, I’d been surrounded by people. Perhaps people who were equally frightened and confused, but people nonetheless.
But I had faced the guards on the street all on my own. I know Grantian watched from down the street, and I believe him when he says he’ll see to it I come to no harm. Still, at the moment, it had felt like I had no friends in the entire galaxy. I kept expecting the annoyingly helpful guards to suddenly snatch me off the street and make me disappear.
That hadn’t happened, but the idea it might have is a daunting one and clings to my subconscious like a bad habit.
“Calm yourself, Lamira.” Grantian’s deep baritone rumbles out of his massive chest like thunder. I find it more soothing than fearsome, though I might be a little bit biased. “You’re safe, and those two cretins are none the wiser they’ve let slip vital information.”
“I know, but—jeez, Grantian. I’m not like the rest of you. I don’t just swagger around confident I can kick anyone’s ass like you and Varia. I don’t even know how to throw a decent punch. The one time I tried to hit my older sister I nearly broke my thumb.”
“Hmm. Sounds like you had your opposing digit tucked into your palm. Try folding it over your fingers instead next time.”
I stare at him for a moment and then chuckle. His brow arches under his horn ridge.
“I wasn’t asking for a clarification of proper punching technique, Grantian. I was just saying I’m not like the rest of you. I’m not a warrior, or a doctor, or even a mechanic. I can’t help feeling like I’m just along for the ride, an unwilling stowaway while the rest of you are kicking butt and taking names.”
“I understand, Lamira.”
I stare up into his big, golden-eyed gaze and feel a little weak in the knees. “You do?”
“Quite. Everyone feels vulnerable from time to time, even Hael Hounds.” He flexes his bicep, and I’m mesmerized by the play of muscles dancing catlike under his golden skin. “Yes, I’m strong of arm, but such power of muscle and sinew pales before a fully charged gamma ray emitter. That’s why it’s important to be part of a crew, or a group. The strengths of the many will always trump the strengths of the few.”
“Nice. Did you learn that in the Hael Hounds?”
“No. An Ataxian priestess, actually.” He scratches behind his head. “I had no intention of converting, mind you, but I always liked the singing.”
“Singing?”
“Oh, yes. When I was young on the Kilgari home world, the Ataxians had a temple down the avenue from where my parents and I lived.”
I scrunch up my face in a frown.
“That’s weird, an Ataxian temple outside of Coalition space.”
“Not so. It’s a different denomination from the mainstream worship of Ataxia, with a liberal amount of Precursor mythology. They believe Ataxia herself was one of the Precursors, which would mean she’s not of Grolgath descent.”
“Yeah. Varia told me that Solair is an old schooler who believes in the Precursors as well. I take it from your use of the word ‘mythology’ you don’t share his beliefs?”
Grantian’s nose twitches, and for a moment he seems uncomfortable. “I share some of his beliefs….” He looks out onto the busy avenue and sighs. “Come. We should get word back to the captain and the others about what we’ve discovered.”
He easily shoulders the same sack of pika fruit that nearly threw my back out as if it’s a pillow. Not that I mind—the way his back and shoulder muscles ripple and flex is a sight I don’t think I can grow tired of.
As we move back onto the main thoroughfare, I’m struck by the advice I had given Varia about giving in to her obvious feelings for Solair. The handsome packaging is just a happy accident. The real appeal of the Kilgari is how nice they are and how they treat us with respect.
Now here I am, trying to give myself the same advice. The thing is, I don’t have a clue as to how I should proceed. Dating in the modern galaxy is often done at the touch of a button on your datapad. Rich males even have the option of dialing up the Companions Academy for a custom-trained mate. How else do people hook up? At a bar? Should I try and get Grantian into one of the local cantinas? No, that’s stupid, given the bombshell we need to drop on Varia and Solair about Solace.
Not to mention that I’m getting way ahead of myself. Just because I’m really into Grantian doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual. There’s no guarantee of that. Damn it, Solair is pretty much an open book, as is Jax, and even the smart ass Swipt is easy to read.
But not this titanic wall of golden-skinned muscle that strides easily beside me. No, this guy would be the all-galactic Twonk champion with a poker face like that. I’m starting to wonder if he’d even react if he got shot. I chuckle to myself when I picture Gratian frowning as he looks down at a bullet hole on his chest, as if to say, “Well isn’t this inconvenient?”
“What’s so funny?”
“Ah—sorry, it’s not easy to explain.” My cheeks flush red as I struggle to change the subject. “Do you think Solair is going to be willing to head to Tartus? Assuming we can find it.”
In response, Grantian fills the avenue with his deep bass rumble. “Do you think Varia will let him not investigate?”
I join in his laughter, which draws stares from the grubby faces of Varia and Marion.
“Where have you been, Lamira?” Varia’s tone brims with admonishment. “I was starting to worry.”
“I’m sorry,” I give her a quick hug, “but I’ve found out something you have to hear.”
I go into my story about the guards, Tartus, and the bombshell of Solace being dropped right into my ear. Her face grows grave, her eye
s steely and hard as she considers the implications.
“We need to tell Solair about this straight away. Let’s head back to the Queen and hope he’ll be back soon.”
The four of us work our way through the serpentine twists and turns of the marketplace as we make for the airfield. I notice Grantian is only a step or two behind us, his head on a swivel as he scans constantly for danger. My anxiety is dispelled before such staunch diligence—and the fact that his legs are thicker than my torso certainly helps reassure me. I guess he’s decided the extra attention is worth the risk so he can remain protectively close by.
When we get back to the Queen, Marion conscripts a squad of Frontier women and a couple of Kilgari to help her bear our goods to the mess hall pantry. Grantian, Varia, and I remain at the gangplank, waiting for Solair and Montier’s return.
Eventually we see them heading our way, Solair’s smile of greeting fading as he takes in the somber expressions of his mate and first officer.
“What’s wrong?” His hand drops to the haft of the blaster pistol at his belt.
“It would be better to explain on the ship.” Varia glances around the busy airfield. “Away from prying eyes and ears.”
Solair doesn’t question his mate for a moment. He nods and we all move inside, making our way to the bridge. On the way, Varia raises Fiona on comms and asks her to meet us there.
Once everyone has gathered, Solair in his command chair as Varia lurks behind him, she gestures toward me. “Lamira, will you please tell the others what you told me?”
I blink several times in confusion before I respond. “Oh, you want me to…? Okay.” I clear my throat and go into my story a second time. To their credit, no one interrupts me until I reach the end.
“We need to find out as much as we can about this Tartus.” Solair strokes his long fingers across his chin, his gaze distant.
“That’s where Fiona comes in.” Varia turns to the tech expert. “Can you do some digging, including your more… ah… exotic sources?”
“By exotic I assume you mean ‘criminal’ but don’t want to say it out loud.” Fiona chuckles. “You can count on me, Varia.”
I hope she can because if other women besides us are in danger, there isn’t a moment to lose.
Chapter Twelve
Grantian
Normally I’m not the type to sit and pick at my food. But as I sit in the mess hall, surrounded by the noise and tumult of both Kilgari and humanity, I find my appetite a fleeting concern.
It’s not the food. Far from it. Between Jax and Marion, the fare aboard the Queen has seen a recent uptick in quality. I don’t even mind the more specifically Terran dishes that are now frequently served. Neither am I overly bothered by the noise. As loud as the mess hall might seem at times—and it certainly is loud—it’s nothing compared to even a small celebratory gathering of the Hael Hounds. They fight hard… and they play even harder.
Rather than acoustic dissonance, or poorly prepared meals, my absentmindedness is born from the tangled web of feelings I have for Lamira.
The more time I spend around her, the more certain I am she’s my fated mate. I can’t really describe the sensation. I suppose it’s sort of like when a warrior finally finds a class-three hard armor vest that fits properly. There’s no telling what makes it different from the other five that were tried on across a pair of—ahem—exceptionally broad shoulders, it’s simply the right one.
I glance over at the captain’s table, such as it is. Solair doesn’t stand on pretense, so the captain’s table is whatever one he decides to sit down at for the evening. Varia is at his side, and she leans over to whisper in his ear. They both laugh, Solair’s eyes tearing up as he bares his teeth. Must have been a good one.
I wonder how he knew for certain Varia was his mate? And when? But most of all, I want to know how he proceeded from that point forward. Nibbling a bit at my meal, I fritter away the minutes until it becomes more than an hour. The mess hall slowly empties out as everyone returns to duty or heads to quarters for their sleep cycle. I stay seated until only the captain, his mate, and Jax remain.
“What, did you pick up some belly worms from Kyvos?” Raising my gaze upward to meet Jax’s miffed expression, I slowly realize he’s talking about my half-eaten plate.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then did I stub my toe and add too much yinot flakes?”
I inhale through my nose and let the air out slowly through my mouth, an old meditation technique I learned in the Hael Hounds. Great way to slow your metabolism right before a distance shot. “Your food is fine, as always, Jax. Truly, there are luxury liners where the well-heeled passengers can only dream of such fine cuisine. It beggars the imagination how—”
“Okay, okay.” Jax chuckles and returns to polishing the already gleaming steel tables. “That’s what I get for fishing for compliments.”
At length Varia stands up, kisses Solair passionately, and takes her leave. Our captain continues to sit, apparently finishing up some work on his datapad before he rises.
Seeing my chance, I move over to his side. “Solair. Could I have a word with you, please?”
“Of course, Grantian.” He gestures at the seat recently vacated by his mate. “Sit down, please.”
“Thank you.” I settle my bulk onto the bench-style seat and fold my hands together on the table.
“What’s on your mind? I’m always ready to listen to my first mate.”
“That’s gratifying to know, sir, but I’m afraid my subject matter does not pertain to ship’s business.”
His eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains intact. “I see. I take it this is a personal issue, then? And you don’t have to call me sir. You know I hate formality.”
“I know, s—Solair. Old force of habit from my mercenary days. Yes, it’s personal.” I glance around the empty mess hall suspiciously before I continue. “And I would like it to continue to remain that way.”
“My lips are sealed, Grantian. You know I’m not one for gossip.”
“As you will.” I clear my throat. “I was wondering… when did you first realize Varia was your fated mate, and how did you come to such a realization?”
“Oh.” Solair seems surprised. I guess he hadn’t been expecting this question. “I see. Well, old friend, I wish I could tell you something concrete, but it was more like a… a feeling. Intuition. Like when you’re charting a superluminal jump and the computer gives you two options of equal time, but you pick one over the other because it just feels right.” He laughs helplessly and shrugs. “As I said, I wish I could be more specific, but it’s been a long time since I even heard of another Kilgari finding his mate outside the Queen, let alone met one.”
“I see. So, it’s something akin to instinct?”
Solair leans back in his chair and strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I’d say that’s a fair comparison.” His lips part in a sudden grin. “Is there a member of the Frontier crew you’ve felt… compelled toward?”
“I—yes, there is.” Why is it suddenly so hot in here? On a whim I decide not to mention Lamira by name, ostensibly to protect her but probably because it’s somehow less embarrassing that way. “I find her presence to be… intoxicating. It’s difficult to concentrate, and I find myself… irritated… that I don’t know how to proceed. It’s maddening.”
Solair nods, his lips drawn thin and tight across his face. “I know the sensation all too well.”
“Then how in the Precursors’ name did you manage to deal with it?” I hang my head between my hands and sigh. “When I close my eyes, she’s all I can see. Everywhere I go in the ship, if I catch a whiff of her scent suddenly, I forget where I am and what I’m doing. This is not a sensation I am used to, Solair. I am no mincing schoolboy wet behind the horns. I am a warrior, a first mate, and your staunchest ally. How can I be any of these things when my thoughts and heart are so very twisted?”
Solair purses his lips and takes a long drink from his wine gl
ass before speaking. “Grantian, the best advice I can possibly give you is to be patient.”
“Patient?” I laugh without mirth, only helplessness. “How can I be patient at a time like this? It feels like I’ve been drinking overripe indigoberry wine with a sand mite jammed up both nostrils. And you want me to continue to exist this way?”
“I do. And I’m not asking you to do anything I don’t think you’re capable of.” Solair smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re one hell of a first mate, Grantian, and more than that, one of my best friends.”
“Thank you, Solair.”
“Of course. I know that ‘wait and see’ makes for frustrating advice to follow, but it really is the best thing for someone in your situation. Remember, the whole concept of fated mates is fate—if you’re supposed to be with this woman, if she is your fated mate, the universe will sort of, you know, gently nudge you together.”
“Like it did for you and Varia?”
He nods, a slight smile on his lips. “I know how hard it is to be patient, Grantian. Believe me. My first instinct was to try and bed Varia immediately, but if I had I might have screwed up my chances with her.”
I clench my teeth and struggle to control my volume. “But I need her now, Solair.”
“I know, but you can’t rush this. You’ll just have to wait for things to happen naturally.”
He’s right, of course. I can recognize the wisdom in what he says even if it’s not what I want to hear. Partly out of frustration and wanting to change the subject, but also partly because it is an important matter, I decide to bring up the shocking intel Lamira stumbled upon in the Kyvos market.
“What are we going to do if Fiona comes back with a hit on Tartus?” I lean back in my seat, the metal squealing in protest under my heavy weight. “Is it even safe to investigate?”
“I don’t know if it’s safe or not.” Solair purses his lips, and his gaze grows distant. “We still don’t have any tangible evidence that the Solace mentioned on Kyvos in the market is the same Solace to which our cryopod victim ranted of. But assuming it is… I just don’t know. I’m sure the Frontier women would be grateful to find out the source of the conspiracy that put them in cryostasis…but not if they died trying to find out.”