He shook his head. “There isn’t going to be a court-martial.”

“Was it good and painful?”

A dark pleasure lit his eyes. “Extremely.”

8th Wing regulations demanded the lengthy justice process, but for once, she was happy to subvert it. If his disruptor had made it into PRAXIS’s hands, Marek would have wiped out the 8th Wing in a slow, ugly death. She wanted him to suffer. That might go against principles, yet she didn’t care. Let Marek hurt, then rot. He deserved it, and worse.

“PRAXIS?” Nils asked. “The disruptor plans?”

“Cosmic dust.”

A grin spread across his mouth. “Never expected anything less.” His gaze heated, and he lowered his head for a kiss.

Much as she wanted that kiss, she pulled away. He stared at her with a puzzled frown as she paced away to the edge of the landing pad. Strange, she’d once faced seven PRAXIS ships without a molecule of real fear, but what she had to tell Nils made her heart pound and her mouth go dry.

She stared out at the debris-strewn compound, parts from the sentries and bots lying in smoking heaps. Desolation washed over the compound, the sound of the waves a dull roar, and heavy, tropic air listlessly stirring the dust.

She drew a breath. She had to say this now. No turning away.

“I left you,” she said on a rasp. “When PRAXIS was getting away, and I flew after in pursuit. I left you.”

“Of course you left,” he answered, clearly puzzled. “You had to go after them and destroy the plans. The only rational action.”

She spun to face him. “But I saw you, as I was flying away. You and Marek, on the wall, fighting. And I kept going. I left you.” The throb in her injured arm faded beneath the raw ache of her confession. “I’m sorry, Nils.”

He stared at her for too long. Then, “I don’t accept your apology.”

She ought to have suspected this, but it didn’t stop the hurt. “I understand.”

To her surprise, he didn’t back away. Instead, he stepped closer, threading his hands behind her neck. Securing her, giving her support.

“I don’t accept your apology,” he said hotly, “because there’s nothing that requires it.”

“But I abandoned you—”

His fingers tightened, as did the line of his mouth. “Celene, this is war. Each of us has a duty to carry out, and if we let personal feelings hinder us from performing that duty, we don’t deserve to wear these uniforms. I’m not angry. Not disappointed. You fulfilled your responsibility, just as I fulfilled mine.” A crease appeared between his brows. “This kind of regret doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s just that…” She struggled to speak. “This is new for me—caring for someone the way I care about you. Leaving you behind as you fought for your life…it tore me apart.”

His gaze flared, yet he said levelly, “But you did what you had to.”

She nodded, her neck stiff with the effort.

“Then there’s nothing to regret. I’m proud of you, Celene.”

The strength of his words felt like the notes of a Ellalian bell, chiming low and melodious, lifting her higher. “And I’m proud of you, Nils.”

“Good,” he rumbled, “because now I’m going to kiss you until we knock this planet out of orbit.”

They came together, mouths hungry, hands gripped tight. The kiss awakened every nerve within her, transforming the fury and terror of the fight into consuming desire, creating a chain reaction of need. Her body tightened, and she soaked in the feel of him against her, hard with muscle, alive, purposeful. He met her with his own strength. It felt as though they could generate enough power to realign whole solar systems.

She reluctantly took her lips from his. “Until we reach home base, the mission remains ongoing.”

“Meaning,” he said with disappointment, “we don’t get to see where this kiss leads.”

“Need to make a sweep of all the buildings.” She glanced around at the wreckage. “Marek might have stashed more copies of the disruptor plans.”

“Or other weapons. But first, let’s tend your wounds.”

After Nils saw to her injuries, she said, “Now let’s clean this place out like we’re defleaing a vihond.”

Weariness weighted her body, but she forced herself to go through the entire compound. She and Nils moved from building to building, sifting through debris, piles of equipment and months of accumulated detritus. Nils cursed long and creatively when he uncovered a cache of experimental weaponry—the functionality of which she could only guess at, but, knowing Marek, they would’ve been brutal. Fortunately, they found no more assembled disruptors, nor plans, but everything suspect they gathered into a heap in the central of the compound.

“I would almost suggest taking these weapons back to base for further study,” Nils murmured, staring down at them, “but that means a slim chance that they might be put into use.”

So, he concocted an accelerant from materials found in Marek’s workshop, and the lot of it was turned to smoldering remains.

“The smoke reminds me of the old-fashioned purification ceremonies they still perform on my homeworld every Solstice.” She stared at the column of smoke as it rose into the sky. “Wonder if Marek’s greed and malice are being scattered amongst the clouds, never to be seen or experienced again.”

“I wish that were true.” Nils’s arm came up to wrap around her shoulder, and she knew he felt the same weight she did, the fight with PRAXIS that seemed endless. What would life in peacetime be like? She’d been born into war, and it might continue long after her. But the alternative was worse—a galaxy completely enslaved to a massive corporate monster. The fight had to continue, for as long as it took.

She turned away from the smoking debris. “We ought to raze the compound, as well.”

“Keep PRAXIS from finding anything when they come back.”

“And they will when their emissary fails to return with the disruptor.”

“Let’s leave them nothing but ashes,” Nils said.

Together, she and Nils set up charges all over the compound. The sun began to set by the time they returned to the Phantom, long shadows streaking the dusty ground. They buckled in, and she engaged the thrusters for liftoff. As soon as they were high enough, Nils triggered the charges. Vibrations shook the ascending Phantom as detonations tore through the compound, large fireballs decimating the heavy perimeter walls and leveling the structures.

“It’s kind of pretty.” She watched the riot of color below as the explosion encountered more flammable material.

He chuckled. “Trust you to find an explosion aesthetically pleasing.”

They broke the atmosphere, the planet disappearing behind them. Not an ounce of regret touched her when the planet finally disappeared from their sensors.

“Time to head home,” she said.

But she didn’t know what awaited her at home. Would she be Stainless Jur or Celene? A fling Nils could boast about? Or did he want more?

Could she truly allow herself that kind of vulnerability? She prided herself on her courage, but in so many ways, the heart was more fragile than the body. A body could be destroyed only once, but one’s heart could be torn apart again and again.

It’d be easy to fall back into her old role again. To take up the armor of Stainless Jur, surrounding herself with other Black Wraith pilots who never truly knew her, and be content with the sterile admiration from the rest of the 8th Wing. Nothing touched her. Nothing hurt her.

Or she could take the chance with Nils. And possibly have her heart cut open with all of 8th Wing watching.


Nervousness danced in Nils’s stomach as the 8th Wing home base came into view. For the past solar weeks, he and Celene had been essentially alone. The flight back had been an exercise in delayed gratification—they’d kissed, and touched, but that was all. The stretches of space between Marek’s former hideout and home base were too dangerous to trust to autopilot, so Nils and Celene had stolen moments here and there, yet never made love.

They hadn’t talked about what would happen when they got back to base.

Anxiety and sexual frustration roiled through him. What was she going to do once they returned to their normal lives, their normal roles? She was Stainless Jur, one of the Black Wraith Squad’s best, if not the best. He was the pride of NerdWorks. The two didn’t intermingle, let alone become lovers.

During this mission, something had taken shape between them, an intimacy greater than sex. But would she try to deny it once she settled back into her world, and he in his? Would she push him away, or, worse, grow indifferent? He’d seen her eyes burn with passion. He couldn’t stand to have her look at him with cool detachment.

Resolution straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t going to cling to her boots, beg for her affection. If she wanted to move on without a backward glance, he’d let her go. Their time together had been…the best of his life. But he had more life left in him. He could move on, too.

A tense silence filled the Phantom’s cockpit as they approached the dock. The easy conversation and lingering touches fell away, leaving them precisely where they had been at the beginning of the mission.

The ship finally touched down. Outside the window, he saw Admiral Gamlyn, Commander Frayne, Ensign Skiren and a dozen other members of the 8th Wing—Black Wraith pilots, members of Engineering and Major Ishan, the head of Engineering. Though the higher-ranking officers looked serious, as befitting their station, many others smiled. Especially Ensign Skiren, who alternated between clapping and hooting something through her cupped hands.