She felt as tall as the temple dome, strong and confident and bursting with pride.

  “My third oath is the greatest dream of all. I give it with full honor, gaining everything while losing nothing. I am finally free to choose my oath holder. My heart chooses you. I am your friend, and I will be the warrior you need.”

  Though Salomen’s eyes shone with tears, her smile was brilliant. “I know you will.”

  Despite the import of the moment, Rahel could not stop her own smile. “I stand before you with a clear heart and an honorable name,” she said, beginning the traditional wording. “I wish to serve you in any capacity I am able. I place my strength between you and harm, my—my stave between you and your enemies, and my last breath between you and death. This I swear in Fahla’s name. I am Rahel Periso Sayana, and I ask this gift of you: Will you accept my service?”

  The stave sang once more as she extended it. Then she realized that her hold precluded Salomen from easily taking and retracting it. There would be an unavoidable shuffle to arrange handholds.

  She couldn’t bear the thought. Without hesitation, she tossed it upward, dropped to one knee, and bowed her head with her hands outstretched. Her stave fell obediently into place, one hand on either side of the grip.

  It was gently pulled away, and she heard it retract.

  “Please stand, Rahel Periso Sayana.”

  She rose, her heart pounding with the import of the moment. Fahla willing, this would be her last oath.

  Salomen pressed the grip into her palm. “You offer me a worthy weapon extended, and I return it to you sheathed. I accept the gift of your service with a glad heart, and trust that you will stand between me and harm. Should your last breath be expended in my defense, I swear to you that your name will be honored to the utmost of my ability, and the flames from your pyre will reach the stars themselves.”

  She released Rahel’s wrist. “Captain Serrado?”

  Serrado stepped forward. “I’m here.”

  “Once again, I name you my proxy in holding the oath of Rahel Periso Sayana, this time for the length of her service in Fleet—”

  “No,” Serrado interrupted, her emotions darkening. “For the length of her service with me in Fleet. I will not have her bound to Fleet. This is an Alsean oath.”

  Though surprised, Salomen did not hesitate. “For the length of her service with you in Fleet. Do you understand your responsibilities as an oath holder?”

  “Better than I did a cycle ago. I accept my responsibilities.”

  “Do you agree that service is a gift to be earned, not an obligation to be abused?”

  “I do.”

  “Then First Guard Sayana remains in your service.” She met Rahel’s eyes with a radiant smile. “And in mine. That was a fancy move, by the way.”

  Rahel grinned. “Not really.”

  Salomen bumped her shoulder. “Show-off.”

  Her grin grew wider.

  She was not the only one who had changed in the last cycle. Salomen was more open with her affections, more confident in her title, and less prone to withdraw inside her intimidating shell.

  Perhaps, she thought, they had both earned their freedom.

  24

  A living ship

  In his long career, Micah had lived through more than his share of extraordinary experiences. One of the most powerful had been his first trip into orbit, a moment he thought would never be surpassed.

  Now he walked through the corridors of a far larger ship, not as security for Tal but as Alejandra’s guest. He had flown up in one shuttle with Ekatya and would return in another ferrying the latest batch of Gaians taking their leave on Alsea. It was easily arranged and perfectly normal, which made it truly extraordinary.

  So much had changed in a few short cycles.

  Striding beside him was another symbol of that change: Rahel Sayana had returned with them and was taking him to the medbay via the “scenic route,” having volunteered when Alejandra was delayed by a minor emergency.

  She had been a Bondlancer’s Guard for a full cycle and an officer on this ship for nearly as long. Eight moons before that, he had done his best to kill her and she had, in turn, damn near killed him. Yet here they were, on the same side and improbably connected through both Salomen and Alejandra.

  Fahla had a quirky sense of humor.

  “Do you ever think about the odds against us being here?” he asked as they passed a tailor’s shop.

  “Us meaning Alseans, or us meaning you and me?”

  “You and me. Former opponents.”

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “but that’s not the most unlikely thing that’s happened to me. Being sworn to Salomen tops the list.”

  “Even more than being the first Alsean space explorer?”

  “Much more. It’s all related. I wouldn’t be here if Salomen hadn’t arranged it. And she couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t withdrawn your charges. I still don’t understand why you did.”

  After a short internal debate, he said, “Because I found your record at the Kynea healing center.”

  She stopped walking.

  He turned to face her, ignoring the crew members streaming past in the broad corridor. “Salomen thought I should know. She didn’t give details, just said I did injure you. I couldn’t leave it at that. I had the date and a likely geographic range to work with, but it still took me four days. Posing as a crafter was clever,” he added. “I was impressed that you thought up a story like that when you were a tentick away from bleeding out.”

  “Practice.”

  The dismissive answer did not reflect what he saw in her eyes. “Until Salomen told me and I tracked down that record, I thought you left me for dead and danced away without a scratch. I had no idea you were so badly injured.”

  “That’s why you withdrew the charges? Because we were even?”

  “We weren’t even. I was flown to the best specialist in central Pallea for surgery. My warriors, my friends, Tal and Salomen, even Chief Counselor Aldirk all Shared with me to try to bring me out of my coma. I had the best of care and visitors almost every hantick. You dragged yourself to a healing center, bleeding and alone. You gave a false name and had no visitors. Had you Returned, your loved ones would never have known where you were.”

  She looked away. “I had no choice.”

  “You had no chance,” he corrected. “Your oath holder should have taken care of you. As mine took care of me.”

  “Your oath holder was on the right side,” she said quietly.

  “That doesn’t matter. Shantu had a responsibility for you. He did not fulfill it.” It was a vast understatement, but he would not speak badly of the man. Not when Rahel still viewed him as her father.

  “He wasn’t in a position to help. I never expected it.”

  Micah looked down the corridor with its colorful shops. “If you’re injured here or in Salomen’s service, will you expect help?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Of course.”

  He nodded, pleased at the answer. Of the many lessons she had learned in the past cycle, this was one of the most important.

  “That’s the way it should be. That’s why I withdrew my charges. I touched your palm and knew you were honorable. You deserved a chance to serve properly.”

  She swallowed, then held a fist to her chest and bowed her head. “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “No thanks are necessary. You earned that chance. You even impressed the adjudicator, and he was looking for a reason to dislike you.”

  “Salomen and Captain Serrado impressed him.” Amusement lit her face. “Especially the captain. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for her autograph.”

  “You noticed that too, eh? If Captain Serrado ever needs a favor from an adjudicator, she’ll know where to go.” He didn’t need stronger empathic senses to know she did not want to talk about her hearing. Resuming their walk, he looked around with unfeigned interest. “Didn’t Lhyn say there’s a bar here?”

  “Her favorite one,” she confirmed. “The Blue Rocket. It’s up ahead. Would you like to go inside? I can recommend the Synobian Sparkler. You’d never guess it has no spirits.”

  “Not right now. No offense meant, but if I take a date to Lhyn’s favorite bar, it will be someone from medical.”

  She grinned broadly, her posture changing with the topic. “Someone? Medbay has a large staff. There’s a lot to choose from. Do you have any preferences?”

  “Someone who challenges me,” he said, pretending to think. “Someone who fights for what she believes in and loves like she fights. Someone who will never take me for granted and never let me forget how special she is.”

  “Huh. You don’t want much. Still, I think I know one person who might fit all those requirements. Let me introduce you.”

  “Someone who loves like she fights, hm?”

  Micah turned around from his inspection of Alejandra’s office. She was leaning against the doorway, sleek in her dark green and silver uniform, and he could not take his eyes off her.

  Then he processed her words. “She told you?”

  With a smirk, she pushed off and sauntered into the office, the door whispering shut behind her. “Rahel can keep a secret, but you have to tell her that’s what it is. Otherwise, she and I don’t keep much from each other.” She set her hands on his chest and leaned up for a soft kiss. “I like the way you think of me.”

  “I never stop thinking of you.”

  “You have to sleep sometime.”

  “Doesn’t count. That’s not thinking.”

  “It’s subconscious processing. That still counts.”

  “Are you going to argue with me before we even say well met?”

  The smirk reappeared. “If you think this is an argument, I have bad news for you.”

  He brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones. They were the most Alsean part of her, and he wasn’t sure if he loved them for that or simply because they lent her face such sharp beauty. “Let me guess. You fight like you love?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had more practice at one than the other.”

  “I’d like to help you with that.”

  “Fighting?”

  “Impossible woman,” he murmured, and kissed her properly.

  When they broke apart, she turned him by the waist and nudged him to the large window overlooking the lobby. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the tour, but Rahel knows what she’s talking about. What do you think of my domain?”

  “It’s impressive,” he said honestly, gazing out at the two-story lobby with its profusion of hanging gardens and potted trees. “I didn’t realize it was this grand.”

  The minor emergency had turned into a moderate one, delaying her longer than expected. Rahel had conducted the tour in her place, showing him the medbay from the top down. It spanned parts of four decks, with one level for surgery bays and another for treatment rooms. Having some of the offices overlook the lobby and treatment rooms was a useful design, he thought. Alejandra’s office was directly across from the main doors, giving her the best view of any activity below.

  “You didn’t realize? It’s a twin to the medbay on the Caphenon.”

  “This one has people.”

  “Hm. I know what you mean. I spent a day in there with the healers, doing inventory and explaining the equipment they hadn’t figured out. It was eerie. A ghost ship. A ghost medbay.”

  Two crew members arrived in the lobby below, a third limping between them with his arms over their shoulders. One of the nurses at the central desk walked out to meet them, pad in hand.

  “Recreational injury,” Alejandra said. “Ten to one he’s due for a rotation off the ship. They get restless when the clock counts down.”

  “I’ve only been here a short time, but I’ve already seen six people come through those doors.” Micah watched the nurse lead them to a treatment room. “Your medbay is alive. This whole ship is alive. I was in the Caphenon right after it crashed, when it was still tilted forward on its nose. It felt wounded, but not dead. As if it were waiting for its people to come back. Now it’s clean and repaired and all it needs is the rebuilt hull, but it feels empty.” He turned to face her. “After walking through this ship, I understand why Ekatya only returned to the Caphenon once.”

  “I remember that. I had to pour half a bottle of iceflame down her throat when she came back.” She held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll buy you a Synobian Sparkler.”

  The Blue Rocket, he soon learned, was named not for a space vehicle but for a plant species. Its walls were hidden behind vines with blue, tube-shaped flowers, while large displays showing outdoor scenes added to a planetside feel.

  Alejandra placed their order on the small pad embedded in the table and leaned back. “They show different themes at different times of day,” she said, nodding toward a display. “And coordinate it with drinks and food from cultures where the programs were recorded.”

  “No wonder Lhyn loves it.”

  “She dragged Rahel in here often enough to hit every theme. We teased her about calling it cultural immersion when she really wanted a drink, but Rahel said it did help.”

  “Is there anything on the menu that would represent your culture?”

  “Yes, in about three—Phoenix, convert three hours to hanticks?” She listened to her internal com, then refocused. “In two point one six hanticks, they’ll serve spicy foods similar to what I grew up with. Foods that might blow off the top of your head, if what I’ve had in Blacksun is any indication.”

  “That sounds like a challenge,” he observed.

  She shrugged, but the smile gave her away. “If you’re a wise elder, you won’t take it.”

  That also sounded like a challenge. He was enjoying this view of her too much to answer.

  “I miss the food,” she said. “And the smell of the research fields first thing in the morning, before the dew burned off. I miss walking through the forest and knowing every single medicinal plant.”

  He wished the table were not between them. “I cannot imagine knowing a place as well as you knew Xhaline and leaving it forever.”

  “When I left, I didn’t think it would be forever. It hurt too much to stay, but I thought someday it wouldn’t.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t think it would hurt. It also wouldn’t be home.”

  They had discussed the idea of home one night, twined together with sated bodies and languid minds. He had been surprised that a scholar shared his experience of duty first, home second. But then, she had surprised him from the beginning.

  “What brought that expression?” she asked.

  “I was remembering the day we met. You weren’t what I thought you’d be.”

  She snickered. “You expected me to be some sort of medical assassin.”

  “I didn’t expect it—”

  “You made me swear I meant no harm. With skin contact for proof.”

  “I was doing my duty,” he defended. “I also noticed that you had very soft hands.”

  Now she laughed outright. “Was that part of your duty, too?”

  “I’m reasonably certain that assassins don’t have soft hands.”

  “That is the biggest pile of—” She stopped as a silver-haired server slid their drinks on the table. “Thank you, Makena,” she said in Common.

  Micah’s new wristcom translated her words, as well as Makena’s “you’re welcome,” delivering the results via his earcuff in the voice of Lhyn Rivers.

  “That’s disconcerting,” he said, tapping his ear. “Hearing Lhyn in my head.”

  “How is it working?”

  “Perfectly. I’m impressed by how well it filters out background voices. There’s only one voice I want to hear.” He raised his glass.

  “We’re not twenty,” she grumbled, fighting back a smile. “Let’s not act like it.”

  “Romance is not reserved for the young.” He took an experimental sip of the violet drink, pleasantly startled when it fizzed on his tongue and tickled his throat. Only when it was gone did he notice the crisp taste. “Delicious. Rahel was right.”

  “She knows her spirit-free drinks.” Alejandra’s first taste was accompanied by a happy hum. “Did you know she brought five Alsean fighter crews here a few days ago? Quite a raucous party, from what I heard.”

  “She mentioned it on our flight up. How are you feeling about her new assignment?”

  Her glass clicked back to the table. “How am I feeling about a likely death sentence? Wonderful, why do you ask?”

  She had so much in common with Realta that it was no surprise he had fallen for her. Their great hearts and love of learning surely came from the same source, despite their different species. At times like this, however, he marveled at the contrasts. Realta had spoken easily of her emotions, but Alejandra could guard hers as if they were treasures under siege. She veered between two extremes, one moment sharing herself with a thoughtless touch as no Alsean would, the next withdrawing behind walls of stone.

  “Candini is the best pilot on Alsea,” he said. “Rahel is the best at grappling. She said their strategy is to let go of the cable if they need to dodge weapons fire, then catch it again when they can. They’ll have eleven other fighters helping. They won’t be a sitting target.”

  She stared at him in silence, then reached into the bag she had brought from her office.

  He propped his head on a fist while she pulled out a sketch pad and pencil, flipped the pad to a clean page, and began to draw. A few quick strokes later, she turned the pad to face him. Though the sketch was the merest outline, he easily recognized a rail gun shooting a projectile that had separated into five components.

  She tapped the outer parts with her pencil. “When one of these is fired, the sabot falls away in four pieces while the projectile keeps going.”

  “Very similar to our design,” he said with a nod.

  “What happens to your sabot components?”