“In the Midrian belt.”
I whistle, a low tone. “Isn’t that still deadly territory?”
He nods, somber now. “But we have Mirelle.”
I purse my lips. “So you do.” Even I acknowledge that their team is stronger with her; that they can do things with her that they never could before. “Be safe.”
“Always.” He smiles. Touches my shoulder. A look of concern passes over his face. “You seem upset. Everything okay?”
Veck these mated Zandian males and their newfound emotional sensitivity that comes from their humans.
I shrug his hand off. “I’m fine.”
“All right.”
He’s not that sentimental—he knows to leave me alone when I need it. He waves and jogs off toward his craft, and I’m relieved to see him go.
When he leaves, I take my scanner and open it up. I insert the new part I’ve been working on now for the past solar cycle.
My heart starts to beat faster, because I’ve had my mind set on this for so long.
Our current scanning capacity only reaches so far. But I’ve figured out a way to tap into Ocretian satellites and find transmissions that bounce off them—expanding our reach by another million light years. Into parts of the galaxy that have, to us, been dark. Silent.
Oh, sure, sometimes we can intercept transmissions if we search for them. But this will be a vast surge of communications, like I’m opening a pipeline.
I can only dream of what I’ll learn. Surely something will be useful for Zandia. Maybe even the very thing I long for most of all.
Or at least the thing I thought I longed for.
Kianna
* * *
“So, I told some of my students about what you did.” Mirelle grabs an apple and bites into it. Juice runs down her chin, and she wipes it with one hand, then swipes her hand on her dirty flight pants. We’re in the lunch area where many human females congregate during the planet rotation to eat together.
“What I did? What do you mean?” I blink at her and put down my fork. “Mirelle?”
“The thing you did for me.” She chews and swallows. “You know, when you got into my head and helped me find my move.”
“Mirelle!” My stomach roils. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”
She blinks. “What you did? It was amazing. It needs to be shared. I taught the class and, Mother Earth, all the young warriors can do that move now. It’s incredible. Without you, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“But it’s private.”
I’m not hungry anymore. I push my plate away, leaving my fruit uneaten.
Mirelle slides closer to me on the bench. She lowers her voice. “I think you could do it to more beings. And that it would be as good for you as it would be for them.”
My heart starts to pound. “ I can barely do it for myself. I didn’t even know if it would work for you. And it probably only did work for you because we’re friends.”
“I tried to do it for Sparr, but I didn’t know how. Please, can you just try?” She grabs my hand. “He’s so smart and talented, but he’s about ready to give up on fight class and join the ag workers. I know if he just gets this breakthrough, he’ll be at another level.”
“Help him do what?” I cross my arms.
“So like I was stuck on my move? He’s having trouble remembering the sequence of actions he needs to do for a general…” and then she says some things that are like garbled nonsense to me, because it’s all fighter words.
Blood rushes in my ears. “No, I can’t.”