She could still remember those few strange, weightless seconds in between the stolen ship’s engine cutting off and the transport wing clipping the side of a floating mountain. The crash as the ship hit the ground. The hot flames of the burning engine, and the sound of Kalee gasping for life, sticky wet blood dripping onto Andi’s hands as she pressed and pressed and tried like hell to staunch the flow.
“It hurts,” Kalee had whispered, but the words came out all wrong. The voice wasn’t hers, and the rattling cough that followed made her lips too red, as blood trickled from them and her eyes closed...
Andi stood up.
This was a mission, like any other. Even if it was Valen Cortas. She owed him nothing—not her life or her emotions or the time she could have been spending now, sharing a meal and stories of Lunamere with her crew.
She paced, focusing instead on the pain in her muscles, the screaming knife wound in her shoulder that she still hadn’t allowed Alfie to patch up.
Pain was her anchor.
It was the only true thing in life that never lied or cheated. Best of all, if she tried hard enough, she could usually overcome it.
She wanted to believe Lira was wrong. But Andi knew there were fissures in her soul. She had always thought herself to be a wall as solid as the glass that made up the Marauder. She was the captain. She would not bend, and she sure as hell would never break.
But today, she had broken. And now she had to find a way to put the pieces back together.
She was just preparing to leave, to force herself away from Valen’s sleeping form, when a flicker of movement caught her eye.
His steady breathing had quickened, the burns and scars on his back seeming to squirm with each fast breath. His head was turned to face her, and his cracked lips fluttered like he was trying to form words.
Andi stepped back to his side, wondering whether she should call on Alfie. But the AI was currently charging back up, plugged in to the ship’s dash a floor above.
“Valen?” Andi asked. Her voice was a weak whisper.
She hated the sound of it.
She almost reached out to touch him when a beep sounded out from the testing box behind her. Andi turned, brow knitting. The small screen on the silver box flashed with an update.
Abnormal Reading. Seek further tests.
Alfie had been right. She wasn’t entirely surprised, judging by the conditions inside Lunamere. She turned back to look at Valen, wondering what lurked beneath the surface of his skin.
His breathing had quickened again. His hands, which had been lying still at his sides, began to curl into fists.
“Valen. You’re safe,” Andi said, feeling like a fool with each word she spoke, unsure of whether he could even hear her. “You’re not in Lunamere anymore. We’re taking you back to your father, back to...”
His eyes flew open and locked on hers.
“Valen?” Andi asked.
One moment he was stone still. The next, Valen’s hand shot out, ice-cold fingertips gripping the stained fabric of Andi’s bodysuit.
She backed away, but he pulled with a strength he hadn’t possessed before, keeping her in place.
He tugged her closer, hazel eyes wide and haunted. His voice was raw and ragged as a demon’s when he choked out two harsh words.
“Kill...me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
* * *
ANDROMA
“SO YOU’RE SAYING our cargo is a mutant.”
A shirtless Dex lounged like a lazy cat on the floor of the main deck of the Marauder, his lithe muscles out on display. His legs were draped over the edge of the couch Andi was sitting on, and beside him, Gilly sat cross-legged, focused intently on painting his fingernails red.
“Stop moving,” Gilly commanded. “You’ll smudge it.”
Dex chuckled and promptly stilled his hands. Seeming pleased, Gilly hefted the tiny nail brush like a weapon, whistling softly as she painted away.
The soles of Dex’s filthy boots grazed Andi’s thigh as he shifted.
She swatted them away and threw him an icy glare.
Apparently, her youngest gunner had fully succumbed to Dex’s charms, but Andi wasn’t ready to let go of the past just yet. Everyone, in fact, was acting far too normal around him as they enjoyed this rare time of relaxation while the ship was on autopilot toward Arcardius.
“Valen is no different than us,” Andi said to Dex, “and he’s not a mutant. And put on a damned shirt. This is a spaceship, not a pleasure palace.”
“It used to be both.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, then winced as Andi ripped off one of his boots and launched it at his face. Gilly cursed as Dex smudged her handiwork yet again.
When Andi first got her hands on the ship, the main deck could only have been described as a man cave. Sagging, stolen couches with empty Griss bottles, dirty boots and socks strewn about, a scattered game of Fleet cards from whomever Dex had invited onto his ship and screwed over in days past.
Since then, it had been transformed.
It was comfortable and classy, almost all of the furniture Dex had owned had been thrown out and replaced by genuine Adhiran cowhide couches, purchased after the girls took on their first few well-paying jobs. Gone were Dex’s old messes, and in their place was a bright, airy room that was the most well-used part of the Marauder, save for the bridge.
Classical music played softly on the ship’s overhead speakers, the deep swell of stringed instruments serenading the crew as they sat together. It was Andi’s favorite music, the kind that didn’t need words to speak to a person’s soul. It was one of the only things she’d brought with her from her past.
The ship was much better now that she and the girls had placed their mark on it.
“Looks beautiful,” Dex said, as he looked at his freshly painted nails. “This is definitely my color, kid.”
Gilly grinned proudly.
But Andi seethed. He’d stolen her youngest gunner’s heart. Now he’d stolen her trademark red polish, too?
“I disagree,” Andi said, as she leaned forward and swiped the bottle from Gilly’s hands. “I think black, like his soul, is the better shade. Wouldn’t you agree, Gilly?”
The girl only shrugged, then leaped up from the couch and joined Breck and Lira at the varillium table nearby.
The table was shaped like a large oval, and was currently stocked with Gilly’s and Breck’s tools for creating their own Sparks. They sat there now, mulling over their latest creation. Beside them, a metal cabinet was fastened to the wall, which held all of the girls’ playthings, and Lira’s stash of Chew, which Andi not-so-secretly wanted to blast out the airlock.
Across from the lounge area was the small kitchen, no more than two burners, a rusted sink that needed replacing, a few lockable metal cabinets for food stores and a cooling box for fresh ingredients. Alfie stood over the latter now, digging through its contents, wearing a Kiss the Cook apron that somehow looked strangely fitting on his metallic frame.
For the past hour, he’d been cataloguing their food stores as they waited for Memory to finish her own secondary diagnostic on Valen’s blood. Every so often, he’d glide over to the crew to spout out the exact nutritional value of each item, then proceed to define each word he’d just said as he dodged the various things Breck threw at him in response.