“If this isn’t a good time…”
“No, no, one sec.” Mira’s face slid out of focus, and the camera panned towards a stack of crates.
Kalie shifted in her chair. It was absurd, but she felt like she was intruding on a personal moment. The feelings Zane never let himself show for Mira were right there on his face. Fear, awe, longing. Something in Kalie’s chest twisted.
Screams tore through the transmission, and wood crackled as one of the crates splintered. Pulsers wailed. Someone muttered a curse, something clicked, and another explosion boomed. More screams, then silence.
Sweat and blood coated Mira’s face, but she grinned. “Now I’m free. Is that Hannover? I thought her coronation was today. Where are you?”
Kalie took a deep breath, pressing a hand to her ribs to ease the pain. “It’s a long story?—”
“Long story short,” Zane cut in, “her secret aunt stole her crown, her guards betrayed her, and now we’re flying to Etov.”
She glared at him. He really could be rude sometimes.
Mira gaped, and something clattered to the ground. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I don’t have a lot of time to explain.” The thought of trying to put this morning into words made Kalie’s stomach flip. “We have to drop from our route soon, and we’ll lose connection. I’m calling to offer you a job.”
Mira raised her eyebrows, and as she turned, the background shifted to a picture of destruction. “Are we talking capture or kill?”
“Neither. I need a spy at my court, and I think you have the skillset to do it.”
She smirked. “Eh. A little boring, but yeah, I’ve done it before. I don’t do this stuff for free, though.”
“Obviously. I’ll give you a million per week.”
Mira whistled. Zane’s eyebrows shot up, drawing Kalie’s gaze.
What money?he mouthed. As the ship jostled, she lurched into her harness and shot him a quelling look.
Bouncing his foot, Zane leaned forward.What money?he silently repeated.
Kalie kicked him. She didn’t have the money now, but she would come up with it somehow. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.
Thankfully, Mira seemed to have missed their silent exchange. She flashed a grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Dead Space, Sector 4
Decemmensis-29, 817 cycles A.F.C.
The bathroom door creaked open,and Zane looked up from cleaning his pulser as Hannover finally shuffled out. Thick mascara tracks ran down her cheeks, swirling with smeared makeup and blood. She’d been sobbing in there for what felt like an eternity, long enough for him to clean his wounds and fold out the ship’s only bed. Zane bit the inside of his cheek. He’d hoped she would wait to emerge until they dropped from the stargate route, so he had an excuse to hide in the cockpit and avoid her tears. Apparently, his luck had run out.
Hannover slammed to a halt. Her red, puffy eyes were glued to his pulser. Whatever color was left in her face drained away.
Frowning, Zane slid the barrel back into place.
She flinched and stumbled back.
Oh.Zane sagged onto the cargo bench. Of course. It all played out in his mind. Vale, the traitorous captain, pointed a pulser at her head. Then Mylis—who had been his only real friend on Dali, who they’dboth trusted, who Hannover obviously had feelings for, who he’d spent so much time sparring with—Mylishad turned his weapon on her.
Zane’s knuckles turned white on the pulser’s grip. If he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it. But the traitor had done it, and judging by Hannover’s face, her heart had shattered.
As she stared at the pulser, her panicked breaths came louder, faster.
“Here.” Zane held it out to her, keeping the barrel pointed down. “Take it. It’s yours.”
She shook her head.
