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“We had a…” Zandro pauses, his brow furrowing as he looks at the others. I’ve known Zandro a long time; he’s trying to gage how much he should share in front of these newcomers. “A strange encounter on Raza-896.”
“A strange encounter…?” Nixeris repeats. They share a strained look with Zandro and then their eyes widen, flashing yellow. “Ah…not to worry; you can trust them.”
“Who are they?” Zandro asks. “I believe introductions are in order.”
Nixeris snorts. “Paranoid,” they say. “I respect that.”
They gesture over their shoulders at the two Skoropi flanking them. “Royal guards, of course…” they start. “The human here is our liaison with the Terran government, Winter Reeves. And the Lyran is—”
The Lyran steps forward and interrupts, her eyes as big as saucers as she extends a hand as if to reach for Zandro. “Ansif Pri’esh, Directorate Scholar,” she says. “I’ve been eager to meet you.”
Bekah steps forward to take her hand, and they shake in a very casual human gesture—as if this Ansif hasn’t just interrupted two Skoropi warlords.
“I expected more engineers,” Bekah says. “Forgive me, but…don’t you think we need scientists?”
Ansif tilts her head. “I appreciate your candor,” she says in heavily accented English. “And yes…you would think so, wouldn’t you? Yet the Directorate has asked me to examine the device, and I serve at the Directorate’s discretion.”
“Of course,” Bekah says. “And your human liaison…?”
“Just a fly on the wall,” Winter says with something between a smile and a sneer. “Here to report back when we have answers.”
I don’t think I like this person.
“Answers we areveryeager to obtain,” Nixeris says. “If you’ll follow me.”
Nixeris turns and begins to walk into the field ofzephtan, amongst creatures large and small. They never slow their pace for anyone else, and I see Bekah fail to keep up for just a few steps before Zandro lifts her to carry her on his hip. She used to protest this open show of affection, but at this point, she’s given up; she’s used to being carried, I suppose.
In fact, I think she’s starting to like it.
We’ve passed into the encampment, tapestries and lamps hung from posts around thezephtan, by the time I realize we’ve lost our human liaison—or spy, if my instinct is correct. Frankie mutters a curse under her breath and I glance over at her, raising my brow.
“Good riddance,” she says. “I guess I’m not trustworthy anymore.”
“You don’t like her,” Malix observes.
“I don’t either,” I chime in. “We should be in this together…not spying on one another.”
“Awfully human to send a ‘liaison’ instead of someone helpful,” Frankie grumbles.
Nixeris suddenly veers right, the rest of us on their heels. Bekah hangs on tight to Zandro as we increase our speed, and Frankie has to fall into a slight jog. The legs of both humans and the Lyra are straight and slow; we’re always faster. It would make me worry about them being vulnerable if I didn’t know Frankie could knock me down anytime she wanted.
A moment later, we’re strolling onto the deck of what has to be the largestzephtanhere. I take the liberty of glancing around at the cultivated flora here, finding carefully curated flowers in blue and gold—Nixeris’ colors. The walls are exceptionally groomed, a couple engineers in the process of trimming back some unruly ferns along the floor.
The hatch closes behind us, shutting Winter out.
“Welcome to Karika,” Nixeris says, sweeping their arms out to the side with a dramatic flourish. “Karika, say hello!”
Thezephtanrumbles around us, responding to her pilot’s call. Nixeris trails a hand through the vines beside us as the corridor narrows, leading us off to the right. We don’t have chambers like this on Jaya; with only one engineer, our ship is too chaotic to be so well-organized. But here, with the power of the fleet at their behest, Nixeris is able to customize their ship as they please.
They lead us into the room, which hosts a strange mixture of Lyran and Skoropi technology. Ansif immediately moves toward the worktable at the far side of the room and opens a secure hatch, ushering Bekah over when Zandro sets her down.
“We’ve set up a temporary research facility away from prying eyes,” Nixeris says. “Agent Morales—care to explain why your government is spying on us?”
Frankie groans and rolls her eyes. “Fear, if I had to hazard a guess,” she says. “I’ll talk to Agent Nguyen when we return to the ship; she’ll definitely have something to say about it, and she has more pull with the government than I do.”
“See to it that you get this handled,” Nixeris says. “I don’t like thinly-veiled operatives snooping around my herd.”
“Of course, warlord,” Frankie says, nodding her head.
