"Cullen?" My voice came out hoarse, raw.
Movement. To my left. I turned my head—too fast, mistake—and had to wait for the nausea to pass before I could focus.
He was there. Alive. Moving through the wreckage of the ship, pulling supplies from storage compartments, his movements efficient. He'd stripped down to a dark shirt and tactical pants, and there was blood on his sleeve, but he was upright. He was functional.
He was alive.
Relief dizzied me and I had to brace myself against the bulkhead.
"Serna." He was at my side in an instant, his hands gentle on my shoulders, steadying me. "Easy. You took a hell of a hit to the head. You need to—"
"I'm fine." The words were automatic, the response of someone who'd spent a lifetime being the strong one, the unbreakable one. But when I looked up at him, saw the concern in those gray-green eyes, I softened. "I'm... I will be fine. Are you hurt?"
"Bruised. Nothing serious." His hand moved to my face, fingers brushing along my temple where I could feel the tight pull of sealed skin. "I used the dermal regenerator on your head wound. It was deep, but clean. No skull fracture. You'll have a hell of a headache for a while, though."
"I've had worse." I had. Battle wounds. Training injuries. But this... this felt different. Heavier. Because it wasn't just my life at stake anymore.
I looked past him, toward the cockpit, and my heart sank. "Kalipuk?"
The change in Cullen's expression told me everything I needed to know before he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Serna. He didn't make it."
The words settled over me like a shroud. Kalipuk. My favored pilot. Loyal. Skilled. A male who'd flown me through countless missions, who'd trusted me with his life and given it freely in service to the Alliance.
He'd gotten us down. Gotten us down alive.
And it had cost him everything.
"I need to see him."
Cullen didn't argue. He simply helped me to my feet, his hand steady at my elbow as I found my balance. The ship was canted at a steep angle, making every step treacherous, but I made my way forward to the cockpit.
Kalipuk was still strapped in his seat, his six-fingered hands resting on the controls as if he might wake at any moment and resume flying. But his chest was still. His large, dark eyes were closed. Blood had pooled beneath him, staining the deck plates.
I stood there for a long moment, looking at him, feeling the weight of command settle over me like armor I'd worn too long. How many had I lost over the years? How many lives had been spent in service to the Alliance, to the peace I'd fought so hard to maintain?
Too many. Always too many.
I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling the cooling skin beneath my palm.
"Kalipuk of Ardesia," I said quietly, the formal words of mourning coming easily after so many years. "You served with honor. You flew with courage. You gave your life so that others might live, and in doing so, you have earned a place among the greatest warriors of the Alliance."
My voice caught, just slightly, and I had to pause before I could continue.
"Your name will be honored. Your family will know of your bravery. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. The Alliance will remember.Iwill remember."
I closed my eyes and spoke the final blessing in the old tongue of Vaktaire, the words my mother had taught me, thewords spoken over warriors who'd fallen in battle. They felt right. They felt true.
"Alikk uttoose arsaka verre saytuia."Gods, accept this brave warrior into your care.
When I opened my eyes again, Cullen was standing beside me, his head bowed in respect.
"He was a good man," Cullen said quietly.
"He was." I took a breath, steadying myself. "We need to bury him. Properly. He deserves that much."
Cullen nodded. "I'll find something we can use to dig with."
