Something she would never have.
Shared love. Shared loss. Shared anger. Shared betrayal.
She breathed air. She did not exist in the world around her.
She did not touch it. She watched it.
She did not feel it. She listened to it.
She did not experience it.
Swallowing, Aiyanna stood, straightening her shoulders with slow resolve. Was that truly what Tarot wanted? He had thrown her into this life, tossed her out of Sky City, out of the prison of existence she’d known her entire life. Did Tarot now wish her to live? Not beside those she was meant to guide, but with them?
How could she hope to guide them when she couldn’t meet their gaze with that same note of understanding that ran so deep in each of their souls?
Someone walked up the slope toward her.
Nix. She was naked, her soft, dark hair flowing over her breasts and down her back. She walked softly, paying attention where to place her feet.
Aiyanna took in a deep breath. Tarot’s hand was always guiding, but never forced a person to do anything other than what felt right. If Tarot wanted her to experience, then it was time she started to live. She knew Synn would be angry with her for bringing Nix back to him. The programmer—Bob—had said Nix was important. Aiyanna believed him. She didn’t know why. She just knew this was their chance to live.
Live. Experience. Feel.
Nix stopped, raising her brown eyes to meet Aiyanna’s gaze.
They both sighed as if gathering their own resolve.
Yes. It was time to live.
I STOOD IN THE COMMAND dome of the Layal watching the progress of our advance in awe.
The Maizah sailed above us, her antennae rising into the air to provide the latest bits of information. Ryo’s Basilah rode to my right, Najat’s Najmah to my left. Qamar’s Karida kept point while Rajah’s Jihan followed in the rear. I couldn’t see his ship, but I knew she was back there all the same.
We were a powerful sight to see.
The crews worked to repair each ship as needed. For instance, Jamilah’s crew worked to install real landing gear. Ryo’s crew was working on a shield they could use while shooting. Keeley and Doctor Carson worked on the Karida to implement what Doctor Carson called a multi-med unit system.
Neira had left Enhnapi in Kiwidinok to heal. Yasu Noriko hurried just beneath the ocean waves. The turquois water rippled over the glowing yellow and green hood of their lethara.
What kind of leader would Chie be? We were headed into battle, though, we had crippled them. Shankara was down and the Han was hurting. What else did they have in their hide out? Were they able to regroup, man-up, and meet us with a strong fighting force?
I hoped not.
Bartolo Cruz and the Ga’a’dool sailed on top of the ocean in sea vessels that looked a lot like old air ships, their sails full. They were the slowest vessels in our convoy, and we had to keep our speed down for them.
Yes. Our force looked impressive. Would it be enough?
I took in a deep breath, clasping my hands behind my back. I listened to my ship creak, listened to her groan.
I didn’t know. We went to face the Great Families, or what was left of them. A frail and failing force.
But the real enemy was the Skyborne. Would taking Ino’s nanites be enough? Or would the other programmer decide the world was too tough, the resources too out of reach, and then destroy our world?
No. The real battle had to be ending the Skyborne. Crippling them, buying more time to destroy them. The real enemy.
But how was I supposed to do that?
Skah closed the door gently behind her and leaned against it. She knew how much Taileh meant to Neira. She was there when Taileh had left. Part of Skah was unsure of what to say or what Neira needed. Whatever it was, she would gladly give it.
Was Neira aware of how much Skah loved her?
Doubtful. Neira was the leader of the greatest massing of tribes the known world had seen. Even Synn didn’t realize just how strong Neira was, didn’t realize how many letharan trailed behind them, how many ocean skippers. Thousands of warriors followed in their wake, willing to protect their leader.
In case the great and powerful El’Asim failed to keep her safe.
Right now, though, it was up to Skah to ensure their leader’s heart remained intact.
Neira looked up from her desk with a sigh, then returned her attention to the stack of papers before her. “What is it?”
Skah pushed off the door and padded silently forward.
“Have you come to chastise me for entering a battle we were not meant to fight?”
“No,” Skah said softly. “I agree with the El’Asim.”
Neira set her quill down, her ebony eyebrows raised. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “That is not something I ever thought to hear from you.”
Skah stepped around the desk and perched on the edge of it. “Nor I, but there it is all the same.”
Neira unfurled her arms and dropped her hand to the armrest.
Skah propped one leather-bound foot on the chair beside Neira’s leg.
Neira trailed her fingertips along the bootlaces.
“How are you?” Skah asked, asking about Taileh, but leaving it open for topic diversion in case that was needed.
Neira remained silent for a long moment before she answered. “How should I be? I loved her.”
Licking her lips, Skah bowed her head.
“I know you love me.” Neira closed her eyes, pointing her face away. “I do.”
“But?”
“But.” Neira shook her head and opened her eyes. “I don’t think I can do it again. Love again.”
“I will never betray you.”
Neira’s dark gaze roved over Skah’s face. “I hadn’t believed she would either.”
“We all saw it.”
“I,” Neira whispered, “did not.”
Skah folded her fingers between her legs and stared out the opaque lethara curtain. Blue. Only blue.
“How did you see, Skah? How? She said the programmer, the bad one, threatened her family.”
Skah shook her head. “The way she acted. She just seemed off.”
“How did I not see that?”
“She hid it from you.” Skah bit down on what she really wanted to say. “I don’t think she wanted to hurt you, didn’t want to drag you into her business.”
“But she did.”
“Yes.” Skah gripped her fingers tight together between her legs, keeping her face as devoid of her real, boiling emotion as possible. “I think the situation grew bigger than she was able to handle it. She was in over her head.”
Neira withdrew her fingers from Skah’s bootlaces. “You would do well to find another.”
“And if I cannot? If you are the only one I care to give my love to?”
“I beg you to find another.” Neira shooed her off the desk. “I have work to do before we enter into a war that is not ours. You are dismissed.”
Skah swallowed the hurt, her pride. She rose from the desk and stalked to the door. She stopped, her hand on the knob and rested her forehead against the door. “You’re an idiot. You know that.”
Silence answered her.
She opened the door and stepped through.
“Yes,” Neira said just loud enough for Skah to hear. “I do.”
Haji finished the repairs to his skitter unit and wiped his hands on a rag. They weren’t true repairs. Yes. He’d taken some damage in the blast at Peacock Rock, but he’d wanted to incorporate some of the design modifications from the Han’s units, mainly, the pleron panels. They were impenetrable to the bullet guns and Synn’s lava had been unable to melt them. His skitter looked like a speckled lizard, some of the panels in the original black pleron, other panels in key locations in the shiny silver of the Han’s panels.
Rashidi sat on a crate refitting his bag for about the fifth or sixth time.
Dropping his ra
g onto a pile of parts, Haji walked over to Rashidi and sat beside him.
Flashing a smile at him, Rashidi returned to his work.
“How many times are you going to repack that?”
Rashidi shrugged. “Until we’re ready for war. I have nothing else to do.”
“Is the rest of your crew prepared?”
He flattened his lips and nodded, looking up.
Haji watched his crew putter around the wide bay, doing what they had to.
“Will we ever have a home again?”
Startled, Haji glanced at Rashidi before returning his attention back to the bay.
“I mean, the Han took our home. And now we find out that our family, our tribe, had only taken those islands to mine a metal we barely use. And now we fight to defend someone else’s lands. When will we have a home of our own? Land we can call ours. Land we can dig our toes into and grow a family?”
Haji reached deep into his mind to recall what it felt like to be home. What had made it that?
His family. His friends.
The lands had simply been that. Land.
“What do you want in a home, Rash?”
The other man shook his head, his lips quirked. “I want to smell the rain in the earth. I want to touch the leaves of my crops. I want to eat the wealth I grow. I want a roof that does not change.”
Haji straightened his kinked back, letting his friend’s words flow through him.
“I want a wife. I want a place that is safe to raise a family.”
How did he answer those wishes? Haji didn’t know. Everything was so uncertain.
“Tell me we will have a home one day.”
If they survived this, but for that to happen, they’d have to find land that wasn’t already claimed, or land that could be reclaimed. That wasn’t going to be easy.
Rashidi bowed his head, removing the contents of his bag once again. “Or don’t.”
“We will,” Haji said softly. “Somehow. We will.”
Rashidi met his gaze, then turned it to the rest of their people in the bay.
Life would never be what it once was, but they could rebuild a new life, a different one, perhaps better. They could.
They simply had to make it happen.
Rose refitted her plane with bullet guns. All the lightning cartridges had been emptied and she hadn’t found another cache of them anywhere on the Najmah. Even though it was built to resemble the Layal, this ship was foreign to her. She longed to be back on the Layal, back with Jamilah and Synn.
But she was the new Lt. Colonel of the planes now. Everyone was looking to her, and the Lt. Colonel flew from the Najmah.
Jake propped his shoulder on the nose of Wise Girl and gave Rose a frank look, his eyebrows raised, his lips quirked.
She ignored him, rigging a second rack of ammunition. All she needed was a switch to set them once the first rack was emptied. She could rig that. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would work.
Strong fingers grasped her arm. They didn’t threaten.
She sighed and turned. “What?”
Jake pulled her toward him, cupping the back of her head in one hand. His lips hovered over hers.
She froze, one hand gripping the cool, metal wrench.
His blue eyes studied hers.
She stood there, breathing his breath, feeling the warmth he offered. She didn’t want to close the distance. She didn’t want to place her lips on his. Her empty hand settled on his chest, not pushing him away, but not allowing him closer.
He brought her head to his chest and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “I know you think that this, you and I, is a sign of weakness.”
Honestly, she hadn’t thought much about it. He had. That much was obvious, but she’d been working so hard on her planes that she hadn’t even thought about the prospect of romance. She wasn’t even entirely sure what kind of signals she’d given him that would make him think there might be anything between them.
But she enjoyed the closeness. She enjoyed being able to talk to him, and she wasn’t going to deny that.
She should step away, but something deep within her needed the warmth. Not the love of a man, or the passion she could feel in his arms. She simply needed the connection to another human being.
Up in the air, she would be alone in her cockpit, the voices of her pilots in her ear. She would see them fly. She would see them fall to their deaths. Alone.
“One day,” he said, pulling away, “you’re going to realize we are stronger when we let others in.”
She hadn’t seen that, not in her lifetime.
He stooped to press his forehead to hers. “I don’t know what Nix had on you before, but you’re here now. And after this, we’ll be safe. Safe enough to live.”
She flinched and pulled away. They would never be safe. And live? What did that mean?
He flicked his eyebrows and backed up several steps. He picked up a button switch off the crate as he passed it and tossed it to her. “You’ll see, Rose. Trust me.”
She caught the small box and shook her head, turning back to her task. She didn’t see how any of that was possible.
That was a long shot. They’d have to survive first. And that was a long chance of luck.
Keeley put the finishing touches on the med station beside the last line of cots.
Talking to Synn had gone better than she’d expected. She’d thought he’d push.
He hadn’t.
Part of her wished he had, but the other part, the part that knew her better, was thankful he hadn’t.
She kind of wished she were on his ship. She knew him. Even if he scared her with his Mark, his power, she also knew she’d be safe with him. She didn’t know much about Qamar, their new commander, but the woman looked as though she’d survived more than one battle on her own.
So, Keeley would be safe.
The rest of the “medics” Carson had gathered had been brought to Qamar’s Karida. Carson’s plan was to have a field medical unit close to the battle so that when people were wounded, they wouldn’t have to travel far to get medical attention. Eventually, he wanted a medical unit on every ship and letharan city, but they needed to train people in order to make that happen. They needed to open a school.
They had to survive first.
Being on the Karida meant they would be in the middle of the battle.
How many lives could they save if they were blasted out of the sky?
Keeley grabbed the table next to her and gulped air, fighting with her mind, which seemed perfectly content to play out horrible situations that made her heart race even faster.
The Karida being hit, falling through the air, the land hundreds of kilometres below them.
Bullets piercing the hull and lancing the people within the bay seeking medical attention.
Lava.
Lightning.
Bombs.
Strong hands grasped her shoulders and attempted to work the tension from them.
She released the imagery, her fear along with them. Well, not completely. Her stomach twisted with the unvoiced terror. Her hands shook at the all too real possibility that she would die by shell or bullet or lightning or lava or falling.
Carson sighed and turned her around. “You are strong, lass. You’re simply the only one who refuses ta believe it.”
She listened to the reassuring cadence of Carson’s tenor lilt. He reminded her of home, when things were simpler, when she was safe.
Safe. Such a ridiculous word. She pulled out of his arms.
He grasped her hands and captured her gaze. “I believe in you, you daft woman. And one day, one day vera soon, you’ll believe in ye’self as well.”
If only she could somehow free herself of this overwhelming mountain of fear lodged in her chest.
He squeezed her hands on last time, then returned to his own work.
She took in a deep breath, pushing around the fear, willing her hands to stop shaking. If they survived, she’d work on a sc
hool.
No. When they survived. When. The she would build a school.
She nodded, breathing in the courage she didn’t quite believe.
When they survived, she would finalize her plans for a school and would show them to Carson. Perhaps, they’d build the school together.
Or, perhaps, he’d choose to remain in the heat of the battle, where he was needed and she would be at the school on her own.
Either way, it didn’t matter. When they survived, she would build a school.
She took in another breath, this one less shaky than earlier. Her hands stilled with confidence. Mostly.
She would build a school, and in that school, she would teach her students about anatomy. She would teach them about the different plants, about the different animals. She would study them all. She would immerse herself in learning so she could instruct.
She closed her eyes, ease filling her limbs as her mind raced down the possibilities of a good future.
When they survived.
She would build a school.
On the lethara of Yasu Noriko, Chie brushed her hands along a pillow. How many things would she change?
The colors.
Turquoise and blue reminded Chie of all times she’d been made to feel small and insignificant. She picked up the blue pillow and tossed it across the room.
The curtains. She stalked toward them, yanking them from the wall, throwing them across the room with the pillow.
The cushions. She kicked them aside.
The low, round table. She shoved it toward the wall.
Standing in the center of a relatively bare room, the pile of refuse behind her, she breathed a shaky breath, fingering the embroidery of her violet jacket. Her fingers trailed to the scarlet skirt she wore, grasping at the freedom the cloth offered. Something so small as cloth, as color.
Hitoshi stepped into her field of vision, his eyebrow cocked at the pile behind her.
She said nothing.
He smiled and dipped his head, gathering first one of her hands then the other.
She rested her hands in his, not grasping him for comfort, not requesting his support.
Whispers of the Skyborne (Devices of War Book 3) Page 34