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“Mak,”I say into the comm as I leave EC-12 behind me. He called me in the middle of take-off.
“Where’s your visual?”
“I’m piloting,” I say. “What is it?”
“I called to tell you myself,” he says, and I can hear the thrill in his voice. “It’s done.”
“Done?” I breathe. “What’s done?”
“We have the planet,” he says, releasing a joyous laugh. The background noise is fuzzy, but it sounds like a party has begun wherever he is. “We have Kar’Kal.”
My stomach churns. Why can’t I be pleased by that?
“Are you angry with me that you aren’t here?” he asks when I say nothing.
“No, I guess I’m in shock,” I reply. “I’m not angry with you anymore.”
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, but you don’t sound happy.” The happiness leaks away from his tone as he realizes I’m not celebrating.
“I left Kaye at her place,” I say. “Nothing feels like winning when I can’t be with her. I’m not much for celebrating.”
“I’m sorry,” Mak murmurs. “You’re headed back to the others, then? I was going to tell you it’s your choice once you apologized. You can join us here if that bloodlust has passed.”
“No… No, it’s not right to tempt it. But I think she nearly cured me of it. That’s why it’s so hard to walk away,” I confess, not having realized how much I need to talk to him about it. “We have to hold the planet now. I’ll stay with the team you assigned, and we’ll continue the same work.”
“Yes,” Mak agrees. “The Alliance can barely contain their jealousy, but they’re ready to back us. They want to push back the border. The way you gift-wrapped that kill-bot plot for them and left it at their doorstep helped soften the blow of watching us secure the planet without owing them anything.”
He doesn’t say it, but I can deduce that this means that Kira will be working to hack Alliance comms to be sure we won’t get double-crossed anywhere along the next leg of the journey. Mak will need the most up-to-date information on their plans to ensure that our control of Kar’Kal isn’t stolen out from under us.
“They want a contract to retain a base in Sector 5,” he begins droning on about more politics, but I find it difficult to focus. “But I suppose that would mean they couldn’t complain if I offered a base contract to the Rathe System as well. I’m told it’s well-equipped to wipe a base.”
“Hm, indeed.”
“Are you listening at all?”
My mind is still in a dewy meadow, where long waves of rust-red hair are tangling with dead leaves and bent wildflowers.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
KAYE
One Year Later…
A yearwithout him and my skin still burns in the last place he touched me. I can’t forget the sweet pressure of his lips on my forehead, like a permanent sting. I absently touch the spot, imagining it somehow connects us. I recall the hallucinations I had about being pregnant, the way I hoped it was possible, and the way I sobbed in the shower when I realized it was all in my head. Why did I want to put myself through that in any case? Why would I want to do that without him? It was just another desperate way to be closer to him when he’s not here. It’s for the best that it didn’t happen, but I still yearned for it. I have little to no way of knowing whether he’s even alive, aside from my instincts. I think that someone would have the heart to come tell me or throw me a comm call despite the potential dangers.
My skin crawls when the comm line dings for my attention. Not many people call me. The people of EC-12 tend to use our colony message system to get in touch, so I know that comm calls are likely from another planet. So it scares me every damn time. Will it be something terrible?
“Are you gonna get that?” Raffa grumbles with half a cookie in his mouth.
I keep looking at him, wondering whether he’s grown since breakfast. I swear that this week he started shooting up an inch every morning. The way he’s growing is getting expensive too. His shoe size isn’t easy to come by on EC-12, so I’m forced to special-order them, and he’s forced to suffer pinched toes while we wait. Sometimes he decides to go around barefoot like a little psycho, then pads into my kitchen while muddy up to his ankles. I swear it’s not unlike having a toddler some days— or Huckleberry Finn.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, grabbing the line. “Hell—”
“This is a security alert for Farmstead 87. Farmstead 87 property line has been breached by an unknown—”
I slam the receiver down.
