ghs again.
No being speaks. I think we’re all shocked still, like statues. It’s silent but for the pings and creaks of the twisted metal, and the tones and beeps of the program. “Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.”
Then I finally respond.
“Zina!” I grab her into my arms, my heart racing. “Are you all right?”
I touch her face, her arms. Run my hands over her shoulders. “Are you injured? Fetch a medic.” I turn to the nearest warrior. Now!”
Someone taps a comm. “They’re already on the way.”
“I’m fine.” Zina’s voice is tiny and teary. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing in there. And I was scared to tell them I didn’t know how to do it, so I just sat there, and it just… started before I had a chance to say anything.”
Master Seke’s face is stone. Zina takes one look at him and her whole demeanor crumples.
“That was terrifying.” Her voice wobbles. “I’m sorry. I should have said something.”
“What in the veck possessed you to get into that cabin and pretend you could navigate it?” I crush her to my body. “If anything had happened…” I can’t even contemplate it.
“Well, the tech said I should, and I didn’t want to disappoint”—she sneaks a glance at him, then at the wreckage of the sim, and winces—“Master Seke.”
“Stars, Zina.” I’m beyond myself. “You might have internal injuries.”
I scoop her into my arms. I know I’m going to have hell to pay with Master Seke over this, but I don’t give a flying veck. I need to get my female to the med bay right away to make sure she’s not injured.
Master Seke hasn’t said a word. I know he must be beyond angry, but he’s got the self-control of a galaxy. Later, I’m sure he’ll tell me exactly how he feels about me… and my ill-conceived training of Zina.
I run from the dome to the med bay near the palace. Clearly, I can get there faster than the medics will arrive on site.
“Tarek, I’m so sorry,” Zina says in a tiny voice.
“Not a word.” I sound gruff but I’m not angry with her; I’m frantic to make sure she’s not hurt. And I’m mad at myself for putting her in a position where this could happen.
I bring her into the med bay and set her on an examination bed. Dr. Daneth, himself, bustles over and demands to know what happened.
I tell him as he hooks her up to monitoring equipment and other machines.
“Wait outside,” he tells me in a clipped tone.
I want to insist I get to stay, but that’s stupid. I’m not her mate. Just her master, and this planet rotation will surely be the last I can say that. Reluctantly, I leave the examination room and shut the door.
Of course, things only get worse.
“Tarek.” Master Seke and some of the warriors from the dome followed us here.
My heart sinks. “Yes, Master.” I follow him aside.
He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Why did you have her in nav training? She’s a danger to herself and others. It’s a bad call.”
I lower my head. “I gave her a few testing and training sessions. She was not cleared in any way to use that sim. I did not authorize that. Whatever happened here was the result of a misunderstanding.”
“This is more than a misunderstanding.” His voice is taut. “This is thousands of Zandian-hours of effort, wasted. This is a perfect example of how not to run a training dome.”
The shame and embarrassment I feel is second only to what I feel when I think about my father. “I apologize for the accident and the loss of resources. I swear upon my life it will not happen again.”
There’s no way to explain this or make it all right. Of course, I had no control over the technical parts of the pod. I don’t build it, or maintain it—the software is my jurisdiction. But I brought Zina here; she’s my responsibility. I stepped away… just long enough for her to wreak complete havoc on this place. She was my trainee, and I let her out of my control. This is my fault.
“Why is she even training?” His voice is sharp.