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2
NIKATHY
I don't know why I cared if she remembered me or not. What difference did it make? It wasn't even fair of me to expect that of her, of course. When Herod and I had stormed that Patrol ship, the poor woman was little more than a limp body, so thin and frail I'd doubted she would survive the trip back. Fortunately, Tayla and Adreax had their medical bay ready and waiting, and they were able to keep her on life support until we got back to Kychek.
At first, they took her straight to the hospital here, but they couldn't stay, and I felt obligated to check on the woman in their stead. I told myself I was doing it out of concern, and because Adreax was a close friend of mine. It was the right thing to do. But really, I was using it as an excuse, a crutch to avoid the crushing responsibility that had been foisted upon me just a few weeks earlier: the family business.
Strictly speaking, I was not a family business kind of guy. I think my father knew that from the very beginning, and that's why he let me go seek my fortunes amid the stars. But there was something in our blood, too. He had once been a renowned smuggler in his own right. It was only in his later years that he became the wholesome founder of this little outpost.
A piece of me resented him for that.
He was already retired and on his way to being an upstanding gentleman before I was born, leaving me with only the nascent tales of his foolish youth and his adventures as a pirate. I didn't want to grow up in this grand estate, surrounded by politics and plush carpets. I yearned to be out there, piloting a ship of my own and earning a name for myself.
I marched down the hallway, shoving the lingering thoughts of my father away and stalking toward the office at the end of the hall. I let the door swing closed behind me, cutting me off from the hum of my father's estate, and suspending me in the dull light of what had once been his daily workroom. All around me, papers piled up, gathering dust and frustrating all efforts at making sense of things. If he hadn't died so suddenly, I would have had time to ask him. Perhaps he could have put labels on things. But no.
Days after Herod and I had successfully stolen the Divinity back from the Patrol and taken it on that fateful raid at Adreax's behest, I got the call. He had fallen ill, and I was urgently needed to settle his affairs.
I slumped in his worn wooden chair, tensing as it creaked under my weight and half expecting it to fall apart. For a man who had lectured me so often about responsibilities and good stewardship, his office told a different story.
"What was the plan, Pop?" I mumbled to myself, rubbing at my temples and trying to discern a logical place to begin sorting the mess.
A knock at the door interrupted me before I even began, and I growled. "What?"
The door creaked open, and Cosma stepped inside, a cold drink in her hand and a smile on her red-painted lips. "I thought you could use a break," she said charmingly, planting herself on the edge of the desk in front of me, and leaning forward just far enough to give me a conspicuous view of her cleavage.
I pulled my eyes away, returning them to her face, and catching the flicker of disappointment that pursed her lips before she sat up and carried on.
"How could I need a break? I haven't even begun," I grumbled, gesturing at the untouched stacks all around me.
She eyed the papers with the same weariness I felt. As it happened, Cosma had been a resident of my father's estate much longer than I had. In fact, from the rumors, I gathered that she was one of my father's favorite companions before he died. Which left me in a very uncomfortable position, as I had bedded her upon my return, thinking that she was merely one of the staff's daughters looking for a good time. Now, I regretted that decision, but I didn't have the heart to tell her that she and I were not going to be anything more than that one night. In any case, I could use her help, if I could just get her to answer a few questions.
"Well then, I suppose you won't want to hear that you have guests arriving for the funeral, and you are expected to meet with some very important men tonight to discuss the city's upcoming council elections?" She raised an eyebrow at me over the rim of her drink as she sipped.
I balked at her, tossing my drink back in a single gulp. "You've got to be kidding me. Who has time for all this nonsense?"
She shrugged cheerfully. "You'll get used to it. Things will settle down once everyone has made their introductions and all that. Just be patient." She rose to go, pausing at the door only long enough to call over her shoulder. "Tonight. Dinner. And please don't wear that awful suit jacket. It looks like you stole it off a clearance rack. Your father would be ashamed."
She pulled the door shut behind herself before I could issue a rebuttal. I looked down at the suit jacket and wrinkled my nose. I kind of liked the thing. I thought it made me look dignified. Or at least, it did when I was out piloting my ship and striding among the ragged crew of beggars that frequented the smuggler's ports. But I supposed here it didn't have quite the same effect.
Looking around the room one more time, I felt a fresh surge of bitterness boil up. Before I could think better of it, I swiped a hand across the broad surface of the desk, sweeping all of the papers onto the floor and sending them fluttering around the room. With a huff, I sat back and stared at the blank slate before me. Maybe now I could begin.
