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Fighting off the irrational urge to salute, Flora remained silent and watchful. What did the president want with her? Was he just curious about the newest triad, or did he know they’d been trying to activate a power exchange?
Zevon looked at her, his gaze gleaming with professional interest. “The governors just approved your exemption, so let’s see what you can do.”
“My exemption from what?”
“We are at war with Torret,” Zevon reminded. “Anyone with Torretian blood is not eligible for training. Your mates applied for an exemption for you and it was finally approved this morning. The exemptions for your cousins were approved as well, so you will soon have company.”
Was this Draven’s surprise? Before she could ask him, Zevon told her to see if she could manifest water.
She had manifested water rather than fire twice during training, but both times had been spontaneous mistakes.
“You can do this,” Noratu encouraged, soothing her with his touch as well as his emotions. “The process is exactly the same. Start with a visualization, then bring the image into the physical world.”
She had been doing that for weeks now. She closed her eyes and let the image form. She saw a brook, framed by grassy banks, flowing off into the distance. Instinctively raising her arms, she tried to guide the water into her fingers. The image didn’t change, so she took a deep breath and tried again.
Draven’s fingers wrapped around the back of her neck as he eased into her mind.Together. Flow with me.
She surrendered to his skill, offering him control of the meld. The brook curved, spiraling upward and rushing down her arms. Water sputtered out of her fingertips, dripping for a moment then jetting in ten identical streams. She smiled without opening her eyes. They were doing it. First attempt and they made it happen.
“Excellent,” Zevon said. “It will come in handy on your first mission.”
She gasped and opened her eyes. The water immediately stopped and she clenched her fists. “What mission? When?”
“Departure is in two hours. And the objective is simple. The Torretians tested the shipyard yesterday. They produced three small spacecraft. There were significant problems with all three ships. Worse, the issues were all different, so the opening of the yard has been pushed back.”
He sounded annoyed by the development and Flora didn’t understand his attitude. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It is, but they never should have gotten this far.”
“What is our mission?” Draven prompted.
“The ships were moved to a recycling center on an adjacent moon. There is nothing on the moon but the recycler and it is basically automated. This is perfect for her first time out. The Torretians need to know that we’re aware of the shipyard and strongly disapprove of it.”
“May I ask a question?” It would probably be better to wait and ask her mates, but the question was out before she could stop it.
“Of course,” Zevon told her, but both of her mates warned her with their eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to start a war with her men. But she had serious misgivings about this war and wasn’t sure when or if she would ever be allowed to voice her concerns. “The shipyard is on one of their moons, correct?” The president nodded, so she went on, “Then what gives us the right to destroy their property? You said the ships are flawed. That means they are not a threat to us.”
“The shipyard has only one purpose, to manufacture ships and weapons intended to harm us. This test might have failed, but the next one will not. Do we have the right to defend ourselves?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure this qualifies as self-defense. We are attacking them, not the other way around.”
“You do not believe in being proactive?” He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.
“I do, but this makes us seem petty, or at least vengeful.”
Zevon shot Draven a challenging look. “Your mate is still very outspoken. Are you satisfied with this level of control?” Without waiting for Draven to respond, Zevon turned back to Flora. “Your mission is preemptive. This shipyard is the most significant threat we have faced in several years. Was this not explained to you? If it is not destroyed, or better yet prevented from ever operating, Altorians will die.”
“I understand that, but why—”
“That’s enough,” Draven growled, reinforcing the order with a telepathic snap.
“Thank you for indulging my curiosity, President Zevon.” She tried to smooth things over, but it was too late. She had embarrassed her mates again.
“You depart in less than two hours. Make sure she is in the correct frame of mind before then.”
“Yes, sir,” Draven and Noratu chorused. “We will be ready.”
