when I say you do not want me to lodge a report of your noncompliance in my mission debrief.”
I hold out one gloved hand. It doesn’t shake. Not even a little bit.
“The passkeys, please.”
Gruber’s crew has stopped working now, gathering around us in a small, hostile semicircle. The captain is glowering up at me. I’m using the same tone of voice as every academy instructor who ever disciplined me for tardiness or chewed me out for late assignments or cited me for talking/sleeping/ making out in class. All those teachers who warned me I’d never amount to anything.
And with a series of curses I’m far too ladylike to repeat, Captain Gruber reaches into his jacket and hands me a set of glowing passkeys.
Shows how much my teachers knew.
“Good work, Sis,” comes Tyler’s voice in my ear.
“I am a Jones.”
“What?” the angry little captain says.
“You and your men have five minutes to remove your personal belongings,” I tell him. “Please ensure the ship is fueled for departure.”
“Five minutes?” he sputters. “What about my cargo?”
“You may lodge compensation forms through the GIA webnode.”
I turn my back, already looking for Ty through the crowd.
“THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION,” Zila tells him.
I can feel the captain’s stare between my shoulder blades. His shame and anger at being taken down in front of his men. But I’ll say one thing for Terran bureaucracy—the last place in the ’Way you want to be is on its bad side. You’d have to be idiots like us to even consider it. And with another curse, Gruber barks at his men to get their things together.
I see Ty and the squad moving through the crowd toward us, and the thrill of my little triumph is warm in my chest. That went even better than I expected. As I smile behind the mirrormask, Zila sidles up to me and whispers.
“THAT WAS …”
“Magic?” I reply.
“REMARKABLE.”
“Yeah. But don’t fall in love with me, Zila. I’ll just break your heart.”
“THAT DOES SEEM CONSISTENT WITH YOUR ROMANTIC MODUS OPERANDI.” She pauses a moment before adding, “YOU ARE ALSO TOO TALL FOR ME.”
I blink at that. “Wait … you like girls?”
Zila shrugs, scanning the crowd. “NOT TALL ONES.”
I’m actually a little surprised at that. To be honest, I didn’t think Zila liked anyone much at all. But before I can ponder this new revelation, Ty and the others have reached us at the Opha May’s berth.
The grin on my bee-bro’s face makes me grin back, despite the fact that nobody can see under my helmet. As soon as Gruber and his boys get their gear together, we’ll be on our way.
“It is a nice ship,” Auri sighs through our comms channel, looking her over.
Even knowing nothing about ships, I have to agree—it’s a beauty. We’ve all had it rough in the last few weeks, but it seems like things are finally going our way. Our Trigger girl looks tired, but totally awake. For once in his life, Finian seems to have run out of sass, shooting me a goofy smile instead. Only Kal looks a touch out of sorts.
Syldrathi are a little hard for me to read beyond their genetically ingrained arrogance. I guess if I was going to live three hundred years and everyone around me would be dead in half that, I’d be a little distant, too. But this isn’t our Tank’s typical You are but mayflies attitude at work. Looking at the frown on his pretty face, the dilation of his pupils, I’d say he looks almost … nervous.
“You all right?” I murmur.
“… Kal?” Auri asks, reaching out to brush his hand with her fingertips.
He rubs his brow, looking around the docks. “I feel—”
“Hello, Kaliis.”
The voice comes from behind him. Sharp enough that it cuts through the clamor. Something about it fills my stomach with ice-cold butterflies. And turning across the crowded dock, I see a young woman glowering at the back of Kal’s head.
I mean, she looks like a young woman. Maybe nineteen or twenty. But with Syldrathi it’s hard to tell. She’s taller even than me. She has the flawless olive skin and high cheekbones and aching, ethereal elegance of all her people. Her eyes are narrowed, dazzling, bright violet. Her hair is long, swept back over her tapered ears in ornate braids of inky black—she’s the only Syldrathi I’ve ever seen with hair that color. She’s the kind of beautiful that plucks your heart out through your ribs.
But she’s wearing black armor, daubed with white Syldrathi script. The glyf