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“It’s a Lyran moon,” she says quietly. “Heavily populated. Or…it was.”
I suddenly realize what I’m looking at: the death of millions, gone in the blink of an eye. My hands shake, my knees threatening to give out beneath me. I have firsthand experience with the loss of one’s entire civilization, and memories of the slaughter on Zanpi come rushing back at the sight of this destroyed world.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“A weapon,” Zandro says from the front of the group. His voice is low, steady—menacing, even, as he stares into the holo. “The Second House has claimed responsibility for the attack.”
I frown. “But how? The Second House is strong, but it isn’tthatstrong.”
“We know of no weapon that could do this,” Ravik cuts in. “Which must mean that they’re lying. This is…this is new.”
I didn’t even see him at first as he hovers at the edge of the group. He’s been distant lately, and I can see the simmering crimson rage in his eyes as he watches the scene, the color mingling with purple.
He’s afraid.
“I would believe that Dalphox has discovered some hideous new weapon,” Zandro says. “He is capable of far worse.”
“And if he has, then we are doomed,” Ravik says. “This is proof that we need to leave Skoropi, Lyran,andhuman territory. We should go beyond transdimensional space; somewhere that Jaya can feast on a garden world where we will be safe.”
“Ravik, please stop,” Bekah says, her voice both quiet and commanding.
He has asked this numerous times in the past few months, convinced that doom is coming to Jaya, and to all those who oppose the Second House.
Perhaps he’s right, if they have a weapon capable of destroying a moon.
“We should not make any rash decisions,” Ondari cuts in. His figure is somewhat frail, and he looks more fragile than ever in this moment.
He’s getting older as planets die.
Silence falls over us all, interrupted by Jaya’s frightened rumbles. I can hear the other zephtan in our fleet crying with her—all communicating about the horror that’s rippled across transdimensional space. Zandro moves from the group toward the cockpit, where he puts his hand on the moss coating the floor.
“So what now?” Frankie asks.
Normally her superior, Agent Nguyen, would take control at this point. But she’s intimately linked with the Lyra, and her mate is the only Lyran currently onboard our ship. Nguyen looks up at the quiet Lyran male, silently taking his lead.
“I need to make a call,” he says. “Ravik—can you connect me with the Lyran Directorate in Saga?”
Ravik scowls and sighs, but he moves to the transmissions dock anyway. A moment later, a Lyran face appears on his holo-screen: a light purple female with pearly eyes. She looks old compared to Reza, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, her white hair pulled into an intricate braid.
“Councilor Va’lora,” Reza says, pressing his fist to his palm and tilting his head in reverence.
They confer in harsh, guttural Lyran for a few minutes, passing information to each other. Nguyen chimes in every so often, my translator barely keeping up. They discuss the attack, what to do now, if they really think it was the Skoropi. We all listen intently, watching the screen from the fringes.
“You aren’t alone, Agent K’Lyr,” she finally says. “Who are these people?”
Zandro steps forward, taking on his role as protector of our crew. “I am Zandro of the Fifth House, and this is my crew,” he says. “I count Reza and Mai among them, and we offer our support in any way we can. We share a common enemy.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ravik shake his head, his scowl deepening.
“Ah—it’s nice to finally meet you,” Councilor Va’lora says. “If your offer to help is genuine—and if you are close with Agents K’Lyr and Nguyen—then I am inclined to accept your offer. Those two saved my life not so long ago.”
“It was my duty, Councilor,” Reza murmurs.
Va’lora’s lips twist in a sad smile.
“Do you have access to Skoropi space, Captain Zandro?”
Zandro steps fully into the light and tilts his chin in respect, mimicking the Lyran salute. Va’lora returns the gesture.
