Her pulse hammered, and her body responded immediately, growing sensitive and aware. She wriggled on the examining table as she glanced away. It had been too long since she touched Kell, felt his body against and within hers. Her need for him frightened her. Somehow, she would have to acclimate herself to this new paradigm: life without Kell.

But what new life awaited her?

“Ms. Skiren.” A fresh-faced lieutenant stood beside the exam table. “Do you think you have the energy for a debriefing?”

“I’m not 8th Wing. I can’t be debriefed.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s mandatory, and I’m being taken into custody.”

“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Kell, against the protests of the medical tech, stood and crossed the bay, scowling.

“No problem, sir,” said the lieutenant at once. “Command just wants to get Ms. Skiren’s statement about the mission, and then she’s free to go.”

“Am I not free now?”

The lieutenant, clearly not expecting this kind of hostility, stammered. “Of…of course you’re free. But it would be…very helpful for future missions if we could get your statement about what happened on this one.” He shot a nervous glance toward Kell. “If that’s acceptable, sir.”

Kell held Mara’s gaze, and the concern and protectiveness in his eyes threatened to shatter her heart. “You don’t have to.”

“Where will you be?”

“Doing the exact same thing. Talking myself hoarse to a debriefing panel.”

She turned to the lieutenant. “Let’s get this over with.” She hopped down from the examining table and, even though all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Kell’s long, solid body, she made herself walk toward the medical bay doors.

“Mara.”

She turned at Kell’s voice. He stood next to the exam table, with medical staff busily milling around, and yet all he saw was her, and all she saw was him.

“Think about what I said.” His voice was graveled, low. “It’s here if you want it.”

If I want it. What was it? Life with him? Joining 8th Wing? As she left the medical bay, his words resonated over and over within her, like the tolling of an ancient bell announcing either celebration or disaster.


She didn’t see Kell again. The next few hours were spent in a small room with two 8th Wing officers, recounting every detail of the past few days. Mara left out some details, namely the times she and Kell made love. Those memories belonged to her and Kell. No one else. She hoarded them like gems, to be guarded jealously, possessively.

The 8th Wing officers listened and recorded her statements, asking her questions or requesting clarification of certain details. She had initially braced herself for antagonism, or sneering condescension. She was a scavenger. They were 8th Wing. Her clothes were grimy from battle. Their uniforms and insignias gleamed.

Yet no one made snide remarks. No one treated her poorly. If anything, she felt embarrassed to be the recipient of the officers’ unadorned praise. They marveled at her piloting ability, and how she fought side-by-side with Kell and Lieutenant Jur.

“You distinguished yourself, Ms. Skiren,” said a commander. “And your actions went far beyond what any of us had anticipated.”

“Commander Frayne has also had nothing but praise for your contribution to the mission,” a captain added.

At the mention of Kell, her cheeks heated. “What did Kell…I mean, what did Commander Frayne say?”

“He’s still being debriefed. We can’t discuss that.” The captain studied a digitablet. “But I can tell you that he’s pushing hard for a special commendation for you.”

“Commander Frayne overstates my involvement.” She didn’t want that commendation, not if it meant she’d earned it with her body rather than her skill.

“Lieutenant Jur is seconding that commendation,” said the commander. “Do you disagree with them both?”

“I…no.” Breath left her. She wondered briefly if the ship’s gravitational mechanism had gone off line, then realized it was her own equilibrium being unsettled. Rules and certainties as she’d known them did not exist, leaving her to find new truths. About the world as she knew it. About herself.

After the interview concluded, Mara wandered around the ship, searching. She found neither Kell nor even Lieutenant Jur. When the ship landed at the 8th Wing base, she oversaw the unloading of the Arcadia, checked her ship for any damages, but even after she found everything to be in good condition, she lingered. Still no sign of Kell. He hadn’t come out of the carrier ship.

“We’ve prepared special quarters for you, ma’am,” an ensign informed her.

“I’ve got quarters on my ship.”

“These are a little more spacious. Besides, they come equipped with a water shower.”

A water shower sounded like the Starfields of Eternal Bliss. Yet, even with this temptation, she was reluctant to stray far from the docked carrier.

The ensign saw her gaze straying toward the ship. “Commander Frayne was escorted off the ship as soon as it docked.”

Alarm prickled the back of her neck. “Escorted off? Is he in trouble?” Mara began to stride away —exactly where she was heading, she didn’t know, but if Kell needed help, she would provide it, however she could.

“No trouble at all, ma’am,” the ensign said, trotting quickly after her. “But a mission like this, complicated and important as it was, requires a long debriefing before a panel of admirals. Standard operating procedure.”

Her pace slowed as some of her righteous anger and determination evaporated. “I see. How long do these panels last?”

“Could be hours, or longer. More than enough time to rest and clean up. Ma’am.”

She glanced down at herself, seeing the blood and dirt covering her clothes. She probably did not smell particularly pleasant, either.

A water shower. A bed. Solitude. Time to think. She wanted and needed all of this.

Summoning her years of training, she gave the ensign a regal nod. “Escort me to my quarters,

Ensign.” However, she was no longer a princess, so she added, “Please.”

The junior officer led her through the base, and she found herself accepting congratulations and handshakes from many 8th Wing personnel. She felt inundated by faces and voices. Reaching her quarters was a relief.

They were, indeed, much more spacious that her cramped quarters on the Arcadia, and a decided contrast from the seedy lodging room she had shared with Kell. Though, what she and Kell had done in that lodging room hadn’t been seedy at all. It had been…breathtaking.

Needing to be alone with her thoughts and memories, she dismissed the ensign. The grime of Ryge needed to come off. She remembered her purification ritual after her first menses. At dawn, she had been bathed by priestesses, symbolically marking the transformation from childhood to adulthood, one life ended, another begun.

After stripping, she stepped beneath the water. The drain carried away the final relics of her life as a scavenger. Who was she now? There were millions of paths to take—cargo pilot, merchant, or,

hell, mercenary. She now possessed what she had been denied on Argenti—choice.

She finished and wrapped a towel around herself, then staggered toward the bed as weariness overwhelmed her. Mara collapsed onto the bed. She would just rest her eyes a moment before getting dressed and going in search of Kell. Against her will, she fell asleep in seconds. And found herself adrift in dreams.

She woke later to a fleeting sensation of panic. An unfamiliar room, unfamiliar bed. Voices outside in the corridor discussed a training session, griping to each other about a tough warrant officer.

I’m at 8th Wing base. Kell’s home.

And hers, if she wanted it. Considering the praise she’d been given from the 8th officers, his offer might very well be genuine. The question was, what did she want?

Him. She wanted him. A palpable ache in the center of her chest. Lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, Mara pressed the heel of her hand against her chest, trying to contain the need that threatened to open her from the inside out. She had to see Kell. Needed to see his face and hear his voice and touch him, everywhere. He alone would understand what it was she felt to be on the 8th Wing base, the strange conflict of emotions to become, suddenly, a hero. He would know the curious emptiness that came with one life ending and another waiting to begin.

Gods, he had become her friend.

She checked the time. Three solar hours had passed since she had fallen into bed. He had to be finished with the debriefing by now. He would come to see her. The idea of waiting for him in nothing but a towel appealed, but just in case someone other than Kell showed up at her door, she ought to get dressed.

Her grimy clothes held little charm after getting herself clean. Rummaging around a storage locker, Mara found a woman’s 8th Wing uniform. No identification, no markers of rank. Unclaimed,

clearly. Feeling a little strange, as though putting on someone else’s identity, Mara donned the jumpsuit. Looking into the mirror, her self-mocking smile died before it fully formed. She’d thought she would appear ridiculous, a criminal pretending to be a defender of the law. A fraud.

But no. She had her own dignity, and the uniform only highlighted what was already there. It felt surprisingly good, purposeful. As though she was part of something bigger than herself, yet contributed her own strength. And, she thought with an inward smile, the gray fabric flattered her cream-colored hair.