Ha. Ha. Double-meaning joke, correct?
Yes, Allele. It has only taken you a decade to understand humor.
I am not a slow learner with other things.
A smile cracks on my face. She’s saved my ass far more often than I have hers.You are very capable. I would not be here to say that without you.I run a finger over my augment, feeling for her chip as I pull the case out of my armored pocket.
Promise us something.Allele takes on a serious, almost sad tone.
I pause.Something wrong?
There might be.
I’m not sure what it is exactly, but I sense Allele is afraid I will leave her when I find a mate.
I am picking up reports of a conflict brewing between Denarso fleets and those of Thorians and Mindorans. But a crew of Drathious has become involved as well. It sounds like they think the Mindors took Jorusk. There is a chance we may need to leave to keep ABR safe from any spillover.
Your request?
Warn her.
And ruin her week of fun?
If she isn’t interested in dealing with this, you should not waste your time with her. You must find a mate. Find one who can accept this life.
The transport’s internal lights flash with the announcement that we are in lunar orbit.
Allele, are you worried I will pick someone who does not like or accept you?
She is quiet.
If a female does not like my friends or family, including my blood brother, Elix, and you, then I will not ask her.
Even if your Storm demands it?
I will not betray my Rogue family.
I do not think you understand the strength of a Torchbearer’s Storm, Aura.
Maybe so. But I will figure it out as I go. I think expectations will just set me up for disappointment when they aren’t met. I take things as they are, not as they might be or should be. We are not the Amphirans in history books, Allele.
No, sir. You are something much greater.
I don’t like the sound of that. It might go to my head.Please have one of the crew contact me if you must leave so I know where you are.
Yes, sir.
I disconnect and slide out the chip, pack it in the case, and tuck it in an armored pouch in my suit.
All around me, the males chat with one another about the females they’re hoping for. Faerillans are new and unsure of what to expect. Their opalescent skin dances with pale colors under the transport’s lights. Vahnxings, a species with a vision that allows them to see heat signatures and, therefore, through certain mediums, cluster together, checking each other’s pitchy armor. They’re new to the races, too, and look like they’ve teamed up for the first.
“Only one of your species, too?” someone asks from behind me.
The male has eyes the color of blue stars, predatory irises, and gray-blue scutes so dark they’re almost black. “Helsvian?”
“Yes. I am Sa’Tai.”
“Aura.”
