Page 160 of The Space Between Stars

She stared out the darkened windows, nerves kicking up a cyclone inside her. Hardly two months had passed since the assault from the Ruxian child—Calver’s son.

Mitek rubbed at his eyes. “You don’t think—”

“I do.” Cul’Mon had finally discovered her, and decided she was worth the risk.

The rest of the barrack stirred around them as the alarms blared louder, spreading across the island. Fankalo’s hordes rose from hammocks and cots with orderly obedience. Mitek cursed and dove beneath his cot to retrieve his tanka. She tipped back onto her feet, a hand on the frame of the cot for support. She was shaken, but certainly steady.

Mitek thought otherwise. He dropped the weapon mid-fasten and moved to her side like she might buckle at the knees.

She waved him off. “Get to Drogus. Have him sail all vessels around the south side. We’ll hold out on foot until we’re sure whatever’s coming for us has an ugly scar and a pet Ruxian.”

“And if that’s what it is?” Mitek’s face contorted in poorly veiled fury.

“If he wants me, he can come and get me. My thanks for his family reunion is long overdue.”

Mitek swore a string of curses the length of the room.

“Cul’Mon means to corner us. Between his ocean assault and…” She swallowed. It seemed ludicrous. Six years and never an indication of an eruption, but… “And Mount Vespeyan.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But if we bring the fight to them, he won’t expect us. This is our chance to end this now. To keep him from Steila.” To weaken Tera’thu enough that Calver doesn’t have to martyr himself at the coronation, she didn’t say. “I need you to move between barracks to ensure the commanders have prepared their units for evacuation and battle.”

Mitek’s eyes darted to her leg. He shook his head. “Screw that plan. That’s what the fucking muster alarm is for.” Sure enough, the men were moving into battle stations to the chorus of yells and the patter of boots against dirt.

“You’ll still reach Drogus faster than me.”

“I’ll send a shratten messenger, Brat. I’m not leaving you alone for a second if that monster is coming within spitting distance.”

As if him standing beside her would keep her from becoming Cul’Mon’s next breeding material. Fankalo rolled her eyes. “Breathtakingly romantic as that is, Mitek, I—”

He grabbed her palm and pressed it against his bare chest. His heart was beating so ferociously she could feel it from her fingertips into her elbow. His dark eyes bored into hers, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

A burning stone dropped into her stomach. Preservation help her. He wasn’t joking.

“You are not invincible,” he growled.

Fankalo yanked her hand away, but couldn’t turn from his heated gaze. “Do what you must, then.” Damn it, Mitek. She knew that look, and Mitek knew very well the things she wanted and the things she didn’t. It took every fraction of her control not to say, ‘Don’t make this mistake.’

She didn’t have to. Mitek blinked first. He turned. “We’ll get you armed in the warehouse.” With a lurch which tore a pinch of her heart with it, he made for the door. “I’m just glad that bastard didn’t break the limb that shoots.”

Fankalo screwed her eyes shut. Close off a wound and it would heal. Reopen it, leave it half-covered, stick her fingers in it ten different ways, and it would not. She hadn’t asked for this; his feelings were his problem, not hers.

And there was a battle to be won.

The Ghosts’ barracks came alive with activity despite the depth of the night. Monthly drills had prepared them for such an event, and they executed their evacuation swiftly. A rolling crack, like distant thunder, rumbled from beyond the rise, but there wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

As Fankalo exited the barrack at Mitek’s side, the palms around them groaned and swayed. Then the ground beneath their feet swelled and fell with the grace of the sea. Mitek tucked his arm beneath her elbow—not that she needed it. She had the bleeding cane. Commands crescendoed around them. Her men quickened as the ground crested and dipped into its rightful place.

“We are still on land. Aren’t we?” Mitek asked.

Another tremor shook the earth. She imagined it chasming beneath them, swallowing them whole. “Not for long.”

They made for the Rapture. The Ghosts boarded their respective ships in less than ten minutes from the first muster. They loaded nothing but their weapons and the distortion materials from the Dreiden warehouse. They were so well practiced in this drill, Fankalo didn’t have to give a single command.

The water of the cove where the Rapture sat at anchor was usually mirror-still. Now, waves batted against the hull. Drogus greeted her there. Beneath the burgeoning dawn, his face seemed more lined than it had in previous weeks. Their geologist, a pale man with jowls like a hound’s, stood beside him. Drogus must have summoned him.

“How long do we have?” she asked.