Even if the memory of her face in that corridor after the funeral, the way she'd looked at me with such raw vulnerability, haunted me every time I closed my eyes.
"Admiral Blackwood."
I turned to find Sahikas, Serna's attaché, approaching with a data pad. The Kelvan was efficient and unflappable, qualities I appreciated given the chaos that seemed to follow us lately.
"Duke Ako is ready for the comm," he said. "The Prime is joining us now."
I glanced back toward the terrace, but Serna was already moving, her posture straightening as she shifted back into Prime mode. By the time she reached us, there was no trace of the exhausted woman I'd been watching moments before. Just the leader, composed and ready.
We gathered in the study. Tall windows along the eastern wall filtered natural light into soft, golden streams that illuminated dust motes dancing above the reading alcoves carved into the stone walls. Those alcoves—deep and intimate—housed thousands of books and were lined with cushioned seats worn smooth by generations of scholars. It was the kind of room that demanded reverence.
The holographic display flickered to life in the center of the room, its blue light casting strange shadows across the ancient texts. Duke Ako's pale face materialized before us, and from the look of him, holding down the fort on Calpa while Serna attended to funeral rites hadn't been easy.
"Prime," he said, inclining his head respectfully. "Admiral Blackwood. Sahikas."
For just a moment, something warm flickered across Serna's face—the ghost of a smile that showed she and Ako had been friends for years. Then it was gone, replaced by the controlled expression of a leader addressing an ally.
"Duke Ako," she said, her voice steady and formal now. "Thank you for your assistance during my absence. Have we heard anything more from Persico?"
"Nothing," Ako confirmed, his expression exasperated. "And what he did give us left more questions than answers."
Serna's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "It did. He claims my greatest enemy is still out there, but he provided no specifics. No names. No evidence. Just... a warning."
"Which troubles me," Ako said carefully. "Hewes is dead. His slavery enterprise is being dismantled. So if Persico is right—"
"Then someone else is positioning themselves," Serna finished, her voice clipped. "But who?" She paused, and I caught the frustration flickering across her features before she locked it down again. "Persico doesn't make claims without foundation. But he doesn't typically leave me in the dark like this, either."
To most of the Alliance, Persico was a criminal—the crime lord of Fange City on planet Palaydium, a Kerzak whose influence stretched across the underworld like a spider's web. His reputation was built on smuggling, extortion, and information brokering, the kind of figure respectable politicians publicly condemned while privately acknowledging his usefulness.
In reality, Persico was an operative of Asad Intelligence, the spy ring the Alliance relied on when official channels failed. He'd spent decades building his criminal empire as cover, embedding himself so deeply in the galaxy's underbelly that even most Alliance officials believed the facade. Only a handful of people knew the truth—Serna, Ako, and a select few otherswho understood that sometimes the best intelligence came from those who operated in the shadows.
"He's still investigating," Ako said. "I've reached out to Siemba, head of Asad Intelligence, and he's put more operatives on it. But so far, nothing."
Serna nodded slowly, her mind clearly working through possibilities. "There's more, isn't there?"
"There is," Ako said, and his tone shifted. "The Alliance is... unsettled. With Hewes gone, several of the royal families who depended on his services are pushing back against the moratorium on human slaves. There's talk of revoking Earth's protectorate status."
My jaw tightened. Hewes had been a monster, a human slave trader who'd built an empire on suffering. His death should have been cause for celebration, not political maneuvering.
"Let them talk," Serna said, her voice cold. "Earth's protection is not up for debate. We made a commitment, and we will honor it."
"Some of the council members are questioning your judgment," Ako said carefully. "They're saying your family ties to humans—your daughter-in-law Willa, your half-human grandchild Titus—have clouded your perspective on the protectorate issue. They believe your personal connections are influencing your stance."
Serna didn't even flinch. "My judgment is sound. And my personal associations are my own business. If the council has concerns, they can raise them when I return to Calpa."
"You need to return as soon as possible," Ako suggested. "The longer you're away, the more ground we lose. Your presence would go a long way toward settling things."
Serna nodded slowly. "Agreed. We'll leave tomorrow."
"I'll arrange for a phantom-class ship," Sahikas interjected. "It's small but fast, capable of making the journey to Calpa in half the time of a standard transport. There would be room for only three—you, Admiral Blackwood, and the pilot."
"That's acceptable," Serna said, not looking at me. "Who will be piloting?"
"Kalipuk," Sahikas replied. "One of your best."
"Good." Serna turned her attention back to Ako. "We'll be there in a few days. Hold the council together until then."
"I will." Ako's expression softened slightly. "And Serna? I'm sorry about Chavon. He was a good male." His use of her given name spoke to their friendship.
