Page 130 of The Space Between Stars

“You have given an opinion. Would you present a solution?”

“I spent a decade commanding a fleet one hundred times the size of this crew. With your permission, my experience is your experience. I am the word in their ear and the dagger at your side.”

“Why not take this ship instead?”

Drogus’s chin tilted into his chest. His eyes squeezed shut, and they stayed that way a long while before he answered. “I owe Alberous Keane a debt. I never wanted a supposed ally to murder my daughter the moment I was lost to them. I will not allow the same to happen to his.”

Fankalo swallowed. Delegation was a key component to leadership. Or so she understood. “I would have you lead the daily navigation standup, following our conference. And alternating huddles with the crew.”

“It will be done.”

A tag from her Luck confirmed his words to be true. She had solidified an alliance with the man most suited to her job. That might buy her just enough safety to give her time to validate her position. A tear kicked free from her eye that she hoped Drogus didn’t see, but was nearly positive he did. He left her then, with only a curt nod—a silent understanding worth everything she had to give.

At lowsun, Fankalo called on the navigator for reprieve. Rather than move to the berth where she had always hammocked above Mitek, she made for her father’s room. Calver waited there, as she asked him to, hours prior. His shackles had been removed; the wounds around his wrists still bled freely. His face was familiar, but his body was something she would rather unsee—arms scarred, back warped and disfigured. His stare went right through the hull. If he had noticed her walk in, he showed no indication.

Calver. Everything she’d ever wanted, right here in front of her, and it only turned her fingers into fists.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Her words were met with silence.

“I don’t expect I will either.” She slung her body into her father’s hammock—hers.

Fatigued though she was, her heart beat like it was ready to run a race. She stood again, retrieved the dagger her father kept in his desk drawer, and laced her belt through its sheath.

As if understanding, Calver shifted his back against the door, his body a drawbar the size of a small horse. A part of Fankalo leapt at her brother’s intuitive response. She let that part fall. Calver might just be the one to kill her in her sleep.

She flopped back into the netting. “Thank you.”

She had never felt more detached from another person. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to embrace her. They were supposed to cry and laugh and share stories.

She’d been in her hammock long enough to heave a sigh when several rapid knocks sounded against the door.

“Go awaaaay,” she sang.

“It’s me.” The relief in Mitek’s voice was palpable.

So, he also suspected she’d be murdered in her sleep. “Still want you to go away.”

She had yet to express any gratitude to Mitek. Fates, did she ever owe it to him. But right now, the hurt was too bad.

“Please, Brat.”

Calver threw an elbow into the door with enough force to move the whole ship. She raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not necessary.”

For all Calver’s reaction, she may as well have spoken to the door itself.

“What do you want?” she shouted to Mitek.

“Is he in there with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I fucking want you out.”

Something told her that Mitek would not stand down on this. With another sigh, she tilted her head sideways at Calver. He shifted just enough for her to pass through the door. More proof that he could comprehend. She didn’t have any care left to give. She clacked the door behind her without a word to him.

“Where he can’t hear,” Mitek whispered, pulling her to the opposite end of the ship. He stopped her when they were in front of the brig, as isolated as one could get on the Rapture.