stop myself. Sure, he’s an ex-mercenary-turned-smuggler, someone whose life revolves around crime and money, but whenever I look into his eyes...it’s hard to explain, but something there makes me lower my defenses, whether I like it or not.
“Yup, I’m definitely losing my mind,” I whisper to myself, wiping the crumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand. Sighing, I lean on my seat as I glance at Grantian once more. I just hope he’ll be able to convince Solair to take us to Consolation. The truth of what happened to us lies somewhere in that blue moon and, until we find out exactly why we were aboard the Frontier, none of us will have a good night of sleep ever again.
We need answers.
And the sooner, the better.
Chapter Sixteen
Grantian
“Shit.”
Sitting up on my bunk, I fumble in the dark for my datapad. I jab my thumb at the damn thing once I find it, frowning as the screen lights up, and stretch my back. Judging by how well-rested I’m feeling mere seconds after waking up, I immediately assume I have overslept and am late for my shift. As it turns out, I’m wrong. I’m supposed to be on the bridge two hours from now, which means that I can go back to sleep.
Kicking the sheets back, I decide against allowing slumber to lull me back to bed.
Sleep is a waste of time, and I’d rather be doing something productive. If a Kilgari wants to cut it as a member of the Ancestral Queen, he can’t afford to be a lazy bastard. Besides, I’ve postponed my conversation with Solair long enough, and I think it’s time we talk about Solace. Even if there are other priorities for us to consider, there’s no denying that figuring out what happened to the women is essential. After all, the women need the truth of what happened to them, and the Kilgari crewmen need to know what they’ve gotten themselves into.
With that one thought burning in my mind, I get myself dressed in a make-shift uniform of sorts and put on my combat boots. I don’t really need to wear them all the time, but old habits die hard. I like being ready to kick someone in the face should the chance arise. Once I’m ready, I leave the room and head straight to the bridge, nodding my acknowledgment as some of the crewmen greet me with half-assed salutes. We work on three rotating shifts at all times, and that means there’s never a moment of quiet aboard the Ancestral Queen.
Just how I like it.
When I finally stroll into the bridge, I immediately spot Varia and Solair beside the main console. The two seem to be deep in conversation, and they don’t even notice me approaching. I got here right on time, it seems, as their subject seems to be exactly what I had in mind.
“Look, I get it,” Varia continues saying and, judging by her insistence, she’s already repeating herself. “You want to go back to your privateering ways, and that’s well within your right. We don’t want to impose on you, but I think the women also have the right to know what happened to them, and you guys are the only ones who can help us.”
“Varia, like I said, it’s just—”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” she cuts him short, her words those of a female refusing to budge. “But it is important, and you know it. We need to know the truth of what’s going on so that we can come up with a solution for this entire mess. I mean, it’s not like we can go on like this forever. You’re smugglers, and you like flying under the radar. Having more than a hundred wanted criminals aboard your ship isn’t going to help matters. You need a solution just as much as we do.”
“A trip to Consolation will take time, and time is money,” Solair throws back. I can tell he’s growing impatient. He isn’t used to being second-guessed. The only one who can do it without any real consequences is me. “Right now, we’re running low on both. Our priority should be finding a job that could net us a profit. We can’t keep going if we’re running on fumes.”
“I might have a solution for that.” Clearing my throat, I take one step forward. Varia and Solair turn around at the same time and, for a moment, I become the object of their undivided attention.