Elsa looked sharply at Karl. “Are you sure the Strelka is coming back before the work on the Sovereign will be complete?”
There was an unwonted intensity to her question that made it clear she wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity, and Jaq saw a flicker of surprise crossed Karl’s face. “Well, yes. Barring any new orders that countermand her existing ones. Why?”
Elsa took a deep breath. “I’m going to request permission to go on leave with the Strelka. I want to go back to Anser to investigate my father’s death.”
Surprised reactions burst forth around the table, and Elsa put her hands up to quiet the protest. “I would only be gone a couple weeks,” she said. “I fully intend to come back to join the expedition. But if my suspicions are correct, the investigation could have some far-reaching implications.” She tilted her head and looked at Karl. “Do you think I’d be able to obtain a leave of absence? I don’t even know who to ask.”
He nodded, but he seemed distracted. “Oh, yes. I believe so.” A furrow appeared between his brows.
Cilla placed a hand on Elsa’s arm, eyes alight. “Oh, please take me with you,” she begged. “I want to go home.”
“Would that be possible?” Elsa asked Karl. Jaq had been wondering what the captain intended to do with the exiled cinder. She must have had a life of some kind to return to.
“I thought you didn’t have any family left?” Karl asked Cilla.
She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, I do. I just don’t know how to reach them. But once I find them, they’ll take me in.”
“You don’t want to go back to your job as a cinder?” Jaq asked. “What world were you stationed on before you ran afoul of the pirates?”
Cilla simply shook her head. Tears threatened to spill over again.
Karl broke the awkward moment. “I apologize, I really have to go. Elsa, I’ll look into the possibility of your leave and whether Cilla can go with you. Could we meet tonight to discuss it?”
“Of course,” Elsa said with a smile. “I’ll see you later.”
Jaq resisted the temptation to snort. She was obviously smitten with the lieutenant, and there was no point in her pretending otherwise.
“I hope you have a good day,” Karl said, giving her a smile. The guy always seemed to be grinning, a habit Jaq had found off-putting initially, though he had grown used to it in time.
Elsa and Cilla moved off towards the food line.
Jaq gave Karl a wave as he left, then turned back to the table. He exhaled as the two women moved out of hearing range of the table. “Poor girl. She’s a wreck.”
Gus grunted. He was watching Cilla with the careful attention of a bird of prey on the hunt. “I don’t trust her,” he proclaimed.
Jaq stabbed another piece of pineapple “Yeah, you made that clear.”
“Why do you dislike her so?” Marraine asked.
“We know nothing about her, and anytime we ask a question, she starts crying.” Gus folded his arms. “She just seems a little too much like a wilting flower to be believable.”
Jaq set down his fork. “Wow, Gus, way to be a jerk.”
“We have only her word for it that any part of her story is true,” Gus insisted.
Marraine drew herself up, indignant. “Gus, how can you say such things? The poor woman has likely been through horrors that would’ve killed you or me. We have no right to judge her.”
Gus was unmoved. “There’s something about her that doesn’t sit right,” he said stubbornly.
Marraine turned to Jaq in appeal, silver eyes blazing. “We can’t treat her like an outcast. Please talk some sense into Gus. We have no right to speak so harshly about her when she’s done nothing to harm anyone.”
Suddenly caught in the middle between his best friend and his girlfriend, Jaq felt a twinge of uneasiness. “Just because she’s reluctant to open up doesn’t mean she’s out to hurt anyone. Cut her some slack, Gus.”
Gus didn’t reply, but Marraine’s shining eyes told him he had done the right thing.
At the end of another exhausting day attempting to conquer her fears on the sails, Elsa stumbled into her cabin and slumped on the couch, letting her helmet fall to the floor with a thunk. Was she getting better at this? She really couldn’t tell. Her heart still felt as if it were making an attempt to escape her chest every time she was on the sails. She put a hand on her stomach. The nausea might be better, though. She actually felt like she could eat dinner. She considered getting up, but decided she was more tired than hungry. A short nap wouldn’t make her too late for the meal.
Her door chimed, and she groaned in counterpoint. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor, accidentally sending her helmet sliding across the floor. “Come in,” she said, turning the last word into a yawn that she didn’t bother covering.
Karl walked in. “Is this a bad time? We can meet tomorrow.”
She jumped to her feet; she had completely forgotten that he was coming over. “Oh no! I just… lost track of today. Please, sit down.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head from side to side to work out the kinks as he plopped down on the couch in an unconscious mirror of her earlier movement. “Believe me, I sympathize,” he said. “Been a long shift. I did want to let you know, though, that your request for leave has been approved.”
Her tiredness subsided before a wave of excitement. “Thank you! That’s wonderful!” Her mind ran ahead to what she needed to pack before leaving and what steps she would take when she got to Anser, but something in his face pulled her back. “Wait. Did you have to pull any cables to make that happen? I don’t want special treatment just because I’m—” What? The girlfriend of the lieutenant? “Friends with you,” she finished lamely.
“Honestly, yes, I did have to pull a few cables,” he said bluntly. “It was worth it. And it made sense. We have to find a safe place for Cilla anyway. She seems…fragile,” he finished carefully.
Elsa felt badly for not thinking more about the traumatized woman’s ultimate fate herself, but she had been too preoccupied by the prospect of her first trip to Anser since she had left it as a teenager to give the matter much thought.
“I certainly won’t leave her to fend for herself aboard the Strelka. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she finds her family once we reach Anser.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, but Karl didn’t stay late; both were too tired. After he was gone, Elsa stood in the window for a moment, watching the star bell.
“Don’t you worry,” she told it, or maybe her reflection in the window. “I’ll be back.”
At the beginning of the next day cycle, Elsa and Cilla waited near the airlock for the Strelka shuttle to pick them up. The Sovereign’s corridors, mostly empty during the time Elsa had known the ship, bustled with Strelka crew unloading parts and materials. Cilla was skittish, jumping at every noise and fiddling with anything within reach.
“Nervous about going home?” Elsa asked, belatedly remembering home had been a sensitive topic for the other woman.
But Cilla didn’t seem disturbed. She looked up at Elsa shyly from under her straight black hair. “A little, yes. It’s been a long time.”
Elsa smiled. “For me too. I’m hoping things haven’t changed too much,” she said carefully. If Cilla hadn’t been back in a long time, she might be upset by the lack of prosperity Godfrey had described. “When were you last on Anser?”
“When—” Cilla’s eyes filled with tears again. “I…when—” She shook her head, voice caught up in tears. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, stars, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess lately.” She sighed, seemingly frustrated with herself. “You know the worst thing about crying?”
“Everything?” Elsa despised crying, and the whole experience was miserable as far as she was concerned.
Cilla gave her a watery smile. “True. But the worst thing is when I try to talk past the lump in my throat and my voice only squeaks out. Sounds like a whiny mouse,” she said in disgust.
Elsa laughed out loud. Maybe a long trip with Cilla wouldn’t be so bad after all. Underneath the trauma, the woman clearly had a sense of humor.
“I hear you’re coming back with us,” said a familiar voice behind Elsa.
She looked over her shoulder to see Godfrey, pushing a hovercart full of cendrillon filament. “Hello!” She was genuinely pleased to see him; Godfrey could be prickly and temperamental at times, but he was still a friend. “Yep, it’s true. Cilla and I will be traveling with you to the Avis system and back.” She smiled shyly. “I’m going home on leave to Anser for the first time since Dad died.” She was a little shocked by her own statement. She hadn’t thought of Anser as home in years.
He blinked in surprise. “Yeah? I hadn’t heard that part. I had hoped you were transferring over to the Strelka permanently.” He looked down at the cart in his hands and seemed about to go on his way.
“I’m afraid not,” Elsa replied, “though I’m glad you and I will have a chance to catch up on the way to the Avis system. I haven’t given up on the Sovereign just yet. Even if I haven’t quite figured out where I belong here.”
Godfrey met her eyes with fire in his own. “That’s because you and I don’t really belong here at all. No one Anser-born could ever truly fit in on a Fleet ship. Life here is too clean, too tidy. Maybe if the two of us had experienced other environments growing up, we could adapt, like Milcent did,” he conceded. “But it’s too late for either of us to change to the extent these idiots want us to. We can play along, work on their sails, follow their orders—but we’re too independent to stay for long.”
Taken aback by his vehemence and more than a little perturbed by the underlying bitterness in his tone, Elsa wasn’t sure how to respond. His assumption that she felt the same way he did rankled. “That may be true for you,” she said finally, “but I’m not convinced it’s true for me. Not yet. I have to give this a fair trial.”
Godfrey shrugged and looked away again, bitterness pushed aside behind the curtain of apathy again. “Sure, whatever you want. I’ll see you around the Strelka.” He went on his way before she could respond.
Elsa exhaled carefully and sat down on her duffle bag. She didn’t know what to make of her old friend sometimes.
“Hello, Elsa, Cilla,” Karl said.
Elsa glanced up to see the lieutenant approaching, a duffel bag of his own in hand. “Karl!” The shot of happiness she got from seeing him was surprisingly strong. “Why the luggage?” she asked, sounding calmer than she felt.
“I’m coming with you, if you don’t mind,” he said without preamble. He plopped his duffel bag on the deck next to her.
Her eyebrows shot up. “What? Why? Won’t your father need you here? How did you manage to get leave?”
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Whoa, let me try to answer all of that. I’m still on decreased duty shifts due to my injuries, and that’s driving me insane. If I don’t do something, I’m going to start finger painting the walls of my cabin. My father agreed to let me go, provided that I take it easy.”
Her heart was still beating fast at the news that she wouldn’t have to leave him, but she did her best to play it cool. “Best believe I’ll be enforcing your father’s order to take it easy. No injury complications on my watch. But you’ve still not answered the ‘why’ question,” she said gently, trying to make it sound as though nothing—instead of everything—hinged on his answer.
“We’re a good team,” he said. “And you could be walking into a tough situation. If there really are suspicious circumstances around your father’s death, you could be opening a winged sligos nest of trouble. Teammates don’t let each other walk into danger without having each other’s backs.” He raised his chin, looking like a defiant little boy, daring her to send him away.
She had no intention of sending him away.
“Besides,” he said, “this way you don’t have to travel alone.”
“Alone. On the Strelka, a ship of some five hundred souls? With Cilla along as a companion?” she teased.
The light above the airlock turned green; their skiff to take them to the Strelka had arrived.
“Oh look,” he said. “Time to go!” He picked up his duffel bag and scooted through the airlock without answering her.
Cilla and Elsa shared a look, and the older woman smiled. “Well, that was rather transparent,” she commented. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a lieutenant.”
Elsa stood and picked up her own duffel bag, afraid that her face was red. She cleared her throat. “Let’s get on board.”
Cilla laughed. “I wouldn’t fight it. Your lieutenant may be rather transparent,” she commented, “but he is transparently yours.”
In retrospect, getting everyone together for a meal had been a mistake. She thought a casual, group dinner would be a great way for Godfrey to see that not all Fleet officers were hoity toity; Karl was as unpretentious as any other crewmember.
She also thought getting together as a group would dispel any ideas of romance on Godfrey’s part. She had wondered if his animosity towards Karl had something to do with misbegotten feelings for her. If so, she intended to nip that in the bud immediately. She’d be damned if she’d be part of a love triangle.
She quickly realized her error of self-absorption. The men had no intention of being part of a love triangle either, and Godfrey’s dislike of Karl had nothing whatsoever to do with her.
Godfrey sat sullenly at the head of the table, arms crossed over his chest. He had plunked himself down in the seat at the beginning of the meal, glaring as if to challenge anyone who would dare to dethrone him. None of the others cared where he sat, so the effect was somewhat diminished, but Godfrey didn’t let that deter him.
The conversation had been civil, if rather stiff, until Karl had made a passing remark about admiring his father’s dedication to the Fleet, even if the two Tsareviches didn’t always see eye to eye.
“You’re an idiot,” Godfrey told Karl, attacking his meal with knife and fork as if he were punishing it for something.
Elsa froze in horror with her mouth open, about to take a bite of hydroponically grown salad.
Godfrey stabbed a piece of meat. “The Fleet doesn’t care about the common people at all. Anyone on Anser could tell you that. The Fleet—and your father in particular—ignored us when we were being torn apart by the Demesne! You’re deluding yourself if you think your father is some kind of saint—or that either of you are working toward some good cause.”
Elsa hadn’t realized the depths of Godfrey’s bitterness towards the Fleet for what happened on Anser during the war. It seemed that the intervening years between now and when she had last seen him had hardened him more than she thought.
“My father is no saint, but he and I are working for a good cause,” Karl replied, “and may I point out, you work for the Fleet too, same as I do.” Karl’s eyes had narrowed to glittering slits, and his patient voice seemed frayed around the edges.
Cilla sat wide-eyed, paralyzed by the hostility that had suddenly erupted. Elsa opened her mouth to try to calm the situation, but Godfrey was faster.
“Sure, yeah, we’re exactly the same.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Look at you, favored son of the Fleet: you’ve had special treatment since you popped out of your mom’s womb. A family with power and influence famed throughout the galaxy. First lieutenant on the Fleet’s flagship. The same ship that ignored Anser’s calls for help as she got carved up like roast wildekreet. We may be in the same Fleet because I needed a job that would take me off that hunk of ice that you Tsareviches love to ignore, but we’re nothing alike. Everything you’ve ever had has been handed to you,” he snapped, voice cendrillon-hard.
Karl’s calm exterior cracked—thoroughly. “Handed to me?” he thundered. “You clearly don’t know a thing about Jacob Tsarevich. The only special treatment I received was the explicit expectation that I’d have to work twice as hard as any other officer, precisely because I wa
s his son. You’re right, we’re nothing alike. I didn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself—I was actually willing to work hard to achieve my goals instead of whining about how the galaxy had dealt me a rough hand, mewling about how much I hate the Fleet but happily collecting my paycheck—”
“That’s enough,” Elsa interjected before Godfrey could respond, “out of you both! No one wants to hear this. Cilla and I will go eat in my quarters if you can’t be civil for the time it takes us to finish our meal.”
Cilla brightened. “Yes, please. I hate shouting.”
The anger faded from Karl’s face surprisingly quickly, to be replaced with contrition. “I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “Cilla, I’m sorry if my tone brought up bad memories.” He looked at Elsa. “I apologize. I know Godfrey is a childhood friend of yours, and I was disrespectful.”
“Yeah, well, he definitely started it,” she said, shooting Godfrey a glance. He glared back at her, unrepentant but quiet.
An awkward silence spread itself heavily over the table. Elsa picked at her food, wracking her brain for a neutral topic. Nothing.
Karl seemed to be having difficulty as well. “Um. So. Did you—where did you say you were when you ran into those fire worms? You know, when you were mining.”
She snatched eagerly at the conversational opening. “Yes! Yes. That was on Rhodophis, the first world I ever mined.”
“You promised you’d tell me that story,” he reminded her. “Can we all hear it now?”
Cilla nodded eagerly. “Yes! I want to hear about your time as a cinder too.”
The younger version of herself buried deep inside winced. The story was certainly embarrassing. But what was the loss of a little dignity in exchange for a peaceful dinner?
“Sure,” she agreed, setting down her fork. “Rhodophis was a tough world to mine, which was why I chose it. I knew it paid the best, and I needed the money. But I didn’t have the first clue what I was doing, and my arrogant assumption that I could handle mining on a world like Rhodophis almost killed me.”
The Star Bell (The Cendrillon Cycle Book 3) Page 17
