Winter in deep forest, hiking a trail with Fianna.

  Autumn in the Snowmounts, watching Andira run beneath a cloudless sky.

  Home. She was home, in her true body, its physical senses waking and working together once more. Her spirit self was no longer adrift, sucking all of her physical energy with it.

  She lifted a heavy hand to close her fingers around Andira’s wrist. “I’m all right. I’m here.”

  Andira dropped the leaves and wrapped her in a warmron. “Welcome back. You did an extraordinary job, tyrina. I’m sorry it was so hard for you.”

  Salomen’s arms dangled; she had no strength to hold her. “Will you take care of them? I need some time.”

  “I’ll take care of them after I take care of you. You’re still wobbly.”

  “We’re fine,” Jorsil assured them. “Ready to stampede over to the food table. We don’t need you for that. Take care of yourselves.”

  “Thank you,” Andira said gratefully. “I’ll be there in a few ticks.”

  Jorsil moved off with his bondmate, calling to the others and leading them away. Only Pilannon and Savisi remained.

  “She sounds like a special person,” Pilannon said. “Tell her we’re all sorry.”

  “We didn’t mean to overhear,” Savisi hastened to add. “It’s impossible when we’re right behind you. What she did took a lot of courage. What you did took just as much.” She rested a hand on Salomen’s shoulder, a gesture few Alseans would dare to make. “I’ve been afraid of this test since the beginning. I’m not anymore. You’ll never use us badly.”

  The warmth from her hand spread along Salomen’s spine, adding a small amount of light and energy to the river pouring in from Andira. It was enough to tip the balance, awakening her muscles.

  She patted Savisi’s hand clumsily, still getting used to her physical self. “Thank you. I’ll tell her.”

  Savisi let Pilannon tug her away. They hadn’t gotten two steps before Salomen wrapped her arms around Andira. “Thank Fahla I have you to come back to.”

  “You always will.” Andira’s relief brightened their link. “Is Alejandra all right?”

  “She’s recovering. I think we need to recover together.” Salomen kissed her and stepped back, taking a sniff of the sallgreen twig she still held. “This truly helped. Food would help more.”

  “I’ll bring it to you.”

  “I’ll be over there.” She pointed to the tree line.

  “Five ticks,” Andira promised, and jogged toward the food table.

  Salomen began walking, each step easier than the one before. “Alejandra. Are you still there?”

  “Still here. Working on my second drink.”

  “Do spirits put you in a better mood or a worse one?”

  “In this case, there was nowhere to go but up. That sounded like you had a rough landing.”

  Once a healer, always a healer, she thought. “The worst yet, but now I know what to expect.”

  “Sensory disorientation and loss of proprioception?”

  “How do you know that from what you heard?”

  “It’s what I didn’t hear, along with several deep breaths that weren’t about respiration. They were about inhaling. I’m guessing you used sensory intervention. Something sharp-smelling?”

  “It’s no mystery why Ekatya thinks so highly of you. Yes, it was sallgreen leaves this time. But how did you know about the loss of proprioception?”

  “Educated guess. You were in orbit one piptick and on the ground the next. I can’t imagine your body processing a shift that massive without a few hiccups along the way.” Her tone grew admonishing. “I assume you have a qualified healer on site.”

  “Healer Wellernal has been consulting from the beginning.”

  “Then where the shek was he just now?”

  She was glad Alejandra couldn’t see her smile. “Over by the food and supplies. Once Andira knew what to do, we found that I recover faster if she’s the one helping me. No matter how confused my body might be, it always recognizes her.”

  “Astonishing. And sweet,” Alejandra added a beat later.

  Salomen passed beneath the branches of the first tree, a thousand times lighter than when she had walked out.

  “Tell me about meeting Tal. How did you know she was the one for you?”

  “I didn’t. I detested her on sight.”

  Alejandra laughed for the first time. “That sounds like a story.”

  Settling on a bench beside the path, Salomen said, “Then let me tell you.”

  26

  Check-in 2

  Ekatya stepped into the lift and hesitated. She was almost certain Commander Lokomorra had been joking when he said the ship’s computer was now accepting an alternative designation for Admiral Greve.

  Almost.

  “Admiral Asshead’s office,” she said.

  The lift hummed into action, its lights shifting to the blue cast that told her she was in motion.

  “For the love of flight.” She had to laugh. If Greve checked this security footage, he was going to be incandescent.

  The doors opened, revealing a location that was decidedly not Greve’s office.

  She leaned against the wall of the lift, roaring with laughter until her ribs hurt and she was gasping. “That’s rich. That is inspired. Serrado to Commander Przepyszny!”

  “Yes, Captain.” Her operations section chief was prompt as always.

  “I’ve just learned of an appalling act of disrespect toward our battle group commander. It seems the ship’s computer has been reprogrammed. If you ask the lift to take you to, er, Admiral Asshead’s office—”

  “Admiral who?”

  “Don’t make me say it again, Zeppy.”

  “I think I can piece it together.”

  “Sure you can. I tested it and I’m standing in front of, ah hah hah hah . . .” Her head thumped back against the wall as an uncontrollable burst of laughter seized her diaphragm. “Waste reclamation,” she managed in a tiny voice before doubling over.

  “What?” Zeppy began to chortle, which only made her laugh harder. “I assure you, Captain, I had no idea.”

  “It doesn’t seem your style.” She wiped a tear and inhaled, only to let out a guffaw that actually hurt her nose. “I’m not laughing. I’m absolutely furious at this behavior.”

  “Yes, I can hear your fury.”

  “Good. Then you know I want this fixed.”

  “I’ll get right on it. It’ll be done by next week at the latest.”

  “Zeppy . . .”

  “We have a backlog of repair issues, Captain. This is minor.”

  “It’ll be major if Greve hears about it.” She envisioned his face and laughed again. “Well, Commander, I’ve done my duty by informing you. Time for my daily check-in.”

  “Might be two weeks,” Zeppy grumbled.

  “I didn’t hear that.” She cut the call and put a hand to her aching stomach.

  The last few days had taken her so high and so low that it was a wonder she wasn’t getting motion sickness. She’d had a sublime date with Andira, followed by the joy of watching Rahel walk free—and returned yesterday to inflict deliberate, sickening cruelty on Alejandra. She didn’t think she would ever forget that anguished expression, or the fury mere seconds later.

  Poor Micah had never seen Alejandra under full sail, much less had it directed at him. He had been devastated and sick with worry. She had taken him to her quarters, where they spoke with Andira first, then with Salomen more than an hour later. Her advice was to let Alejandra come to them.

  It had been a long wait. Alejandra finally appeared after midnight, no longer angry but not her normal self, either. She accepted Ekatya’s apology, even hugged her, but had little to say except that she understood and it was all right.

  It didn’t feel all right. Which probably explained why Ekatya was here now, still chuckling over a juvenile prank. She had to get control of herself in time to face Greve.

  “Right,” she said aloud. “Admiral Greve’s office.”

  Sadly, that command worked. Even more sadly, his adjutant was playing no games today and showed her in without delay.

  “Ah, Captain, right on time.” Greve was in a jovial mood. “I’ve decided that if both of us have to go through this ridiculous charade, we might as well enjoy it. Drink?” He pulled a copper flask from his desk drawer and held it up. “Naalian tonic, the real stuff. Not from a matter printer.”

  She hesitated. Drinking on duty was actionable, but refusing an invitation from an admiral was also problematic. “Thank you,” she said politely. “I’m afraid I never developed a taste for it.”

  “Then you’ve never had the good stuff. Please, I insist.” He produced matching cups and poured a measure in each. “Sit, sit.”

  After months of open hostility, this was unnerving. “You’ll be wasting that on me,” she said, settling into a guest chair.

  “Educating a palate is never a waste.” The small cup flashed in the light as he held it out. Reluctantly, she took it, but made no move to drink.

  He lifted his cup and inhaled deeply. “Ahh. Smell that? The hint of citrus? Matter printers never get that right.”

  Cautiously, she raised hers to her nose. “I can’t say I ever noticed that.”

  “What do you expect, getting your drinks from bars on ships and space stations? Some officers lose touch with what they’re protecting. They spend too much time in space and not enough time dirtside, getting real sun and eating real food. This took years to make, not seconds. Go on, see the difference.” He waited, his gaze sharp and his own drink untouched.

  She held out her cup. “To the things we protect.”

  “To the things we protect.” The cups made a muted ting as their rims touched, and his eyes never left hers as he sipped.

  She moved more slowly, waiting until she saw him swallow before she allowed the liquid in her mouth to go down. It wasn’t a drink she would ever ask for, but he was right about one thing: it was better than any Naalian tonic she’d had before.

  “Interesting,” she said, setting the cup on the desk. “Orange in the nose, lime on the tongue.”

  “You see? You’ll never taste that in the Blue Rocket.” His smile hardened. “I’m surprised you noticed, considering how focused you were on whether or not I was poisoning you.”

  It was useless to deny it, so she said nothing at all.

  “It’s a sad statement when Fleet officers can’t trust one another, isn’t it? I was thinking about this farce we play every day, where you lie and I have to accept it, and I thought, let’s try something new. I’ll offer a gesture of trust. If she accepts, I’ll take her at her word.” He held up his cup in a mocking toast, then tilted it back and swallowed. With a gusty exhale, he added, “You were right, Captain. It was wasted on you.”

  “Trust isn’t built with a single gesture.” She gestured at the two cups on the desk, one empty and the other nearly full. “And by your own admission, this was just another game.”

  “But a useful one. Let’s play another, shall we? Commander Jonquart, is she here? Good, send her in.”

  The door opened, revealing the last person Ekatya expected.

  “First Guard Sayana.” He beckoned her in. “Have a seat.”

  Rahel’s walk was confident, but Ekatya had worked with her long enough to see the caution in the way she sat, spine straight and hands gripping the armrests for an instant launch into action.

  Nothing she could say would prevent what was about to happen. Ekatya met her eyes, hoping she could sense the silent plea.

  Rahel gave no indication as she faced forward.

  “First Guard, do you understand the chain of command in Fleet?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you know that I outrank Captain Serrado, and if I give you an order that countermands one of hers, mine is the one you must obey.”

  “I’m a warrior,” Rahel said. “I’ve spent my life observing the chain of command.”

  “Have you ever disobeyed an order?”

  “Never.”

  “Not even when obeying made you a criminal and an outcaste.”

  Rahel’s outward calm faltered as she looked at Ekatya.

  That fucking torquat. “I’m sorry. He has the security clearance to access the locked part of your file.”

  “Fascinating reading,” Greve said. “I respect your integrity, First Guard. In fact, I think you could teach Captain Serrado a few things in that department.”

  Rahel was silent, but the air around her crackled with tension.

  “To that end, I have a job for you. I know you can tell when Gaians are lying. I’m about to ask Captain Serrado a series of questions. You will listen to her answers, and you will tell me if she’s being truthful.”

  In her peripheral vision, Ekatya saw Rahel’s knuckles whiten.

  “I understand.”

  “Very good.” Greve picked up his pad and made a show of accessing the file. “Captain Serrado, have you received instructions from Lancer Tal or any member of the Alsean government?”

  Rahel stared at her in open shock.

  “I have not.” Ekatya kept her eyes on Greve and her expression calm, but she was seething. This was intentional humiliation, designed to damage her authority.

  “First Guard?”

  “True,” Rahel said, still watching her.

  Greve tapped his pad. “Has your command been mentally or emotionally influenced through your tyree bond?”

  “It has not.”

  Rahel didn’t confirm right away. Ekatya found herself compelled to meet her gaze as she waited.

  “True.”

  “Interesting.” Greve tapped again. “If you receive an order in conflict with anything you’ve promised Lancer Tal or your wife, how will you respond?”

  “I will uphold my oath to the Protectorate.”

  This time, the pause was longer. “True,” Rahel said at last.

  Ekatya forced herself not to react.

  “True today,” Greve said with another tap to the pad. He looked over its edge to Ekatya. “But will it be true tomorrow?”

  “Ask me then,” Ekatya snapped.

  “I will, of course. First Guard, thank you. You’re both dismissed.”

  Rahel was silent as they walked down the corridor to the nearest lift. Once the doors shut, Ekatya said, “I apologize. You should never have been put in that position.”

  “Neither should you.” Rahel’s bearing was stiff. “Captain, I found some old Resilere damage in one of the chases that you should see. Do you have time?”

  Anything amiss in a chase would be reported to Zeppy, not her. Rahel was speaking in code, but Ekatya didn’t know what it meant.

  “Show me,” she said.

  “Deck twenty-six, chase three-F.”

  They stood in silence until the doors reopened.

  “This way.”

  Ekatya followed her down the corridor, through the limited access door, and into the noisy confines of the chase. Rahel negotiated the ramps over conduits with loose-jointed ease as she turned left, right, then left again before stopping beneath an overhead pipe. The air thrummed with rhythmic swooshes as water moved through.

  “It’s a dead spot,” she said, indicating a circle on the deck two meters in diameter. “The nearest security cams don’t reach this point, and the water noise means they won’t pick up our voices.”

  “Should I be worried that you know this?”

  “It’s a hard habit to break. Captain, he hates you.”

  “I know.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the painful knot between them. “Thank you for not telling him. I’m truly sorry you had to make that choice.”

  “That’s no choice,” Rahel said contemptuously. “He reads my file and thinks he knows me? He knows nothing about me or my chain of command.”

  “I hesitate to ask,” Ekatya said. “But if your chain of command doesn’t mean Fleet, and it doesn’t mean Alsean, what does it mean?”

  “It is Alsean. Just adapted to Fleet in the best way I can. I obey orders from my superior officers, but you’re my oath holder.”

  The matter-of-fact statement rocked her.

  She had never been comfortable with the reality of a warrior sworn to her service. Her acute awareness of the potential for abuse made her cautious about the orders she gave and how she framed them.

  She had thought Fleet’s system far superior: a system built on loyalty to rank, not individuals. Loyalty that was quickly transferable, enabling a structure that could span vast distances and innumerable cultures. It was self-policing, with higher ranks being limited to those demonstrating the qualities required to hold that authority.

  In theory, it was ideal. In practice, Greve was living proof of its flaws. The system she had spent her life serving was now being used against her. Today, it would have ended her career.

  But Rahel had lied.

  Months of discomfort gave way to overwhelming gratitude. Greve could pull rank until Alsea’s sun went nova, but he would never turn Rahel.

  “Thank you,” she said again, her voice rough with emotion. “I can’t tell you what it means to me that you made that choice. But I know you can feel it.”

  Rahel nodded, offering the courtesy of silence.

  She pulled the clip from her hair and pocketed it, then ran her fingers through the loosened strands. “It worries me, though. How do Alsean officers deal with the temptation? Would you do anything I ordered you to?”

  “Yes, unless it was illegal or—” Rahel frowned. “You’re thinking of Shantu.”

  “I know it’s not a fair comparison. The circumstances were unique and terrible. But you’ve given me a loyalty I didn’t earn, and I—” She stopped at the incredulous look. “What?”

  “It’s just surprising that you can be so wrong.”

  “There goes my worry that you have too much respect for me,” Ekatya said dryly. “Although after what Greve did, that probably wasn’t an issue.”

  “Shekking blindworm,” Rahel growled. “If he were an Alsean warrior, I’d report him to the nearest caste house. You could, too. Trying to humiliate you in front of your sworn warrior? And making me the tool for doing it?” She let loose a string of Alsean dialect that baffled Ekatya’s language chip.