to the rhythm of Delos’s slightly longer rotation. The dark smudges under Gal’s eyes have faded, but they aren’t gone completely. In those two days, we’ve found plenty of time to put our heads together and strategize, but the kind of thing we’re trying to pull off usually takes months of planning preceded by decades of military training.
All we have on our side is bloodright and nerve.
And speaking of nerve, Wen’s been scarce. On the one hand, I’m thankful. It gives us time to plot, and she hasn’t started to suspect us yet. On the other, I’m worried. The less we see of her, the worse trouble she could be getting into. She’s stopped coming to the strategy meetings, instead asking for recaps that I dole out while she stuffs her face in the mess.
Gal collapses the projection, plunging the room into darkness. The lights slowly readjust, but he waits until they’re at full to speak. “There’s an easier way to the interior. An easier way to engage the dreadnoughts that guard it, with a lessened risk to your own assets. We’ve talked it over,” he says, nodding to me, “and we’re willing if you are.”
General Iral folds his arms, waiting.
Gal takes a deep breath. I know part of it is the act—playing the moment up for effect, making it look like bravery to say the words. But part of that breath is steeling himself. Once he speaks, we’re committed.
“Use us as bait,” Gal announces.
Murmurs roll across the conference table as the senior staff processes the idea. “To what end?” Iral asks. My throat goes dry at the note of suspicion in his voice. Gal was able to sway him once. Now we’ll see if the negotiator can do it again.
“The Umber military doesn’t rut around with deserters,” Gal says, his eyes downcast. He looks just the right amount of scared. “The empress doesn’t tolerate disloyalty at any rank. It’s a policy I learned…too much about while working for the academy head. If we’re caught, we’ll be strung up and fried in front of the rest of the academy. And if a dreadnought gets word that we’re in the system, their orders are to divert and come after us. But they won’t fire—not if there’s a chance we can be taken alive and made into an example. I mean you saw…You’ve seen…”
A pained look flinches across General Iral’s face. He’s seen plenty. The emperor and empress he served faithfully. His own twin brother.
“To take us alive, they have to deploy their own fighters and physically herd us in,” Gal continues. “And when they open up those launch tubes…”
He doesn’t have to say much more than that. The tension drops from the face of every officer in the room as they realize exactly what they could do with those openings. I lean back in my chair as the chatter rises around us, each colonel already jockeying for the mission lead. We’ve done it. Gal’s eyes flick my way, and I catch a tiny smile on the edge of his lips, half-relieved and half-smug.
And it rattles me where it shouldn’t. In that momentary tilt of his lips, he seems to enjoy what he’s doing. Gal’s a good actor, but there’s no need for him to act pleased with himself over the trap he’s laying for Iral.
Unless the rest was the real act. A tremor of uneasiness rattles up my spine as I remember the look in his eyes on the wiretram and every time he’s checked in to see that I’m still with him since then. What if Gal’s hesitancy to commit violence is a front to keep his war-orphan getaway driver on his side?
Whatever smile might have been there vanishes in an instant when General Iral sets a hand on Gal’s shoulder. Gal startles, then catches himself on the edge of the conference table. His knuckles stay pale even after he gets his balance.
“You’re sure you would do this for us?” Iral asks, his voice low and barely audible over the senior staff’s talk.
I jolt to my feet, ready to step in and cover for him, but Gal only wavers for a second. “I’ve spent