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The captain comes by to check on us, and when she sees her brother slumped in the chair, she chuckles softly.
“Kiki,” she says, poking his cheek. “Better sleep in your room or you’ll have a crick in your neck tomorrow.”
He groans, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright. But where was I in that one where the Ashbringer made a thousand holes in the Azza border?”
“You can tell me the whole story all over tomorrow,” I say. “I think I’d like to hear it again anyways.”
“Tomorrow we’ll be home,” he says. “I guess since you’re coming with us, it’s alright to tell you—” He looks over at his sister and she nods her approval. “We’re going toThe Rightful Heir. That’s our secret hideout. Only Kar’Kali know about it. Anyways, there won’t be time for stories then.”
“The Rightful Heir?” I repeat, the translation sounds awkward for a location. “It sounds like a ship name.”
“It is,” Raffa says with a grin. “A huge, ancient, haunted ship!”
“Sorry, Kaye,” Rossa sighs, dragging a hand over her exhausted face. The braid I watched her tie earlier is coming loose. “There wasn’t time to talk it over. I have to be there soon and there’s a regen facility and trained healers that can help Frankie. It’s the most direct way to get her the care she needs. There’ll be plenty of people leaving the ship for Alliance territory that you can arrange a ride with.”
“No, I appreciate it. I hope it’s not… inappropriate that we’re there?”
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission, eh? Besides, you’re Raina’s family. Although she won’t be expecting to see you. How about we give her a good shock?”
I nod, glancing at the med-bot’s screens. This will give Raina more than a shock. Graphs and foreign alien numbers show the ups and downs of Frankie’s system as she fights for her life. My head’s getting dizzy from all the reports on fluid levels and cardiac output—I need a real doctor. With the renewed hope of our impending arrival on this Kar’Kali hideout, I steel my tired nerves.
I can get Frankie through the night.
CHAPTERTHREE
KALLA
It’s immediatelyclear that Mak’s pissed off at me.
His closest guards, the ones that never leave his side, are waiting in the hall when I arrive to see him. Once I’m inside, they close the door behind me. Mak wouldn’t care to have privacy between us if all he planned on doing was chatting.
Last time Mak and I talked in-depth, I could tell he was holding something back from me. It was the night of Niko’s mating ceremony, and I was high from the bloodlust. Fresh off taking that battle station from fully functional to floating graveyard, I announced that our time to take Kar’Kal was now.
To see Niko, to hear the crowd of dancing and drinking as they celebrated, and to feel the excitement of the possibility that we could take Kar’Kal back… That night we kept celebrating until I dropped from exhaustion. We were like boys again, giddy to be together and to have mischievous plans. But now comes the time to act, and Mak has been busy. He called on his sworn captains and they have come running, so he takes meeting after meeting, consults with all of them, talks to everyone. We have always agreed that I should stay separate from his war councils and that his sworn captains should know little of me.
He awaits me from behind his desk. He turned the ‘receiving room’ into an office. The ornately carved door to the opposite end leads into his bedroom, which I’m not certain he ever uses by the looks of the couch behind his desk. This room once had a formal air to it, with sumptuously dressed windows that ran the wall height and colorful inlaid marble floors. He’s thrown Kar’Kali handwoven rugs about to dull the clacking and warm the cold stone. In one corner, there’s a makeshift comm booth with a lounge chair and a dark draped background. He keeps a small counter for making beverages and food from a rehydrator for those late nights when the public kitchens have closed.
“Hey, Kalla,” he greets me, pushing his chair back to stand and give me a warrior’s salute. Our foreheads brush for a moment before we both take a seat. “You look better.”
I wave my hand. “Scratches.”
“Strange times, aren’t they?” He glances out the window. The view is excellent, offering us a clear vantage of the entire airfield. It’s fuller than I’ve ever seen it. Even I can’t recognize every ship, but Mak knows them all by name. He makes a point of knowing such things.
“How go war plans with your sworn?” I ask.
“It’s rushed. Everyone’s rushed. I can’t help but feel paranoid about making moves so quickly,” he says. “It feels like falling into a trap.”
“You’re always paranoid,” I point out. He’s been dodging assassins since he took his first step. After experiencing the same thing for about two passings now, I’m surprised my friend hasn’t gone insane from living like that.
“Still alive, though,” he says with a grin. “Funny how the attempts on my life have dropped off significantly since the Deadhead regime failed.”
“Well, are you going to tell me what the campaign will look like? As much as I enjoy being an agent with my own freedoms, I hate being absent from these meetings,” I say.
“You know how the sworn captains can be. Everyone thinks their ship is the best. Everyone thinks their plans are the most brilliant. So on and so forth…” He blows out a breath. “But we’ve come to conclusions.”
His eyes scan around the room before landing on me. It’s a small detail, but Mak is a male who looks you in the eye. His focus is off, causing the back of my neck to prickle.
“Is something wrong?”
