Cade raised a stiff hand to his brow and shot a lazy salute.
“On my honor.”
Kira rolled her eyes and sighed. “This is a bad idea.”
“Too late now,” Cade smiled. “Spill.”
Another round appeared. Cade decided it was best to take a breather even as Kira raised hers, staring wistfully inside. She took a breath, then downed her fourth shot—or at least her fourth with Cade.
“You ever hear of Lehara?”
“Nope,” Cade replied. He took a sip of his shot and realized the grievous mistake he’d made. It was just as bad in small doses. Kira noticed and shook her head at his stupidity.
“It’s a small agricultural moon in the Latos system, buried deep in the Galactic Fringe. It’s like Aria, except more rural and way poorer. Nobody demands what they have to offer the way, say, kerbis is demanded. Nobody except for Praxis.
“See, the interesting thing about Lehara is that it’s part of a cluster. Lots of moons nearby, lots of planets. Latos is a dense system, and it’s strategically located. You can get to more than a few systems fast and easy from there. Praxis recognized this, and they made it a point to establish a stronghold there, as they’re wont to do.”
“Yeah,” Cade agreed. “They sure like having a thorough presence.”
“That they do,” Kira said venomously. “That they do.”
Kira raised her glass for another drink and continued. “Anyway, I was part of a squadron that was called to Lehara because we’d heard negotiations between the Leharans and Praxis had taken a, well … let’s call it a bloody turn. Now, keep in mind this was one of my very first assignments. I didn’t have a say in what happened or how things were handled. I was just along for the fight, and all I knew was that Praxis wanted to position their stronghold on Lehara for no reason other than that’s where they picked, and they weren’t taking no for an answer.
“So, you had Praxis with their boots on the ground, and then you had the Leharan people, who were these pacifists and spiritualists. A little weird but, you know, they weren’t bothering anybody, so who cares? All they wanted was to be left alone, but Praxis wouldn’t have it. They’d picked Lehara, and even when other moons stepped up and offered Praxis the real estate for their base, Praxis still wouldn’t budge. Those bastards would. Not. Budge.”
Kira paused and threw back her drink. Cade, dreading where this story was headed, did the same.
“We … we didn’t get there in time. My commander, Shepard, had us stop on the way to check on some supply run that was supposedly being disrupted. I can’t even remember what it was that we were doing, but it was a waste of a stop. He never took the Lehara situation seriously, and everyone knew it. But he learned. When we touched down on Lehara, he learned exactly how seriously he should have taken things.”
Kira sighed and was quiet for a moment.
“Nazine gas,” she resumed. “It attacks your nervous system, and the first thing it does is paralyze you. So by the time it spreads to your organs, you’re completely and utterly helpless to do anything to save yourself as it erodes your body from the inside out. Praxis used this on Lehara, but not indiscriminately—no. They rounded up the women. They rounded up the children. And then they used it.
“We landed on a platform overlooking a massive cloot field, and it was like Praxis knew that’s where we’d drop. Because the first thing we saw, the very first thing, were the bodies. All these bodies stretched out for … for who knows how long. Dead women and children. A dead crop field. We were lucky that the gas had dissipated by the time we arrived, otherwise we would’ve been right there with them.”
Kira bit her bottom lip and stared at something over Cade’s shoulder. Cade opened his mouth to say something, knowing how banal even his best-placed words would be. He was thankful that Kira stopped him and continued her story.
“Why do something like this, you might ask? I’ve been at this for ten years now, and I could only come up with one conclusion: Because that’s the kind of messed up thing Praxis does. Granted, I heard Ga Halle held a tribunal and had the Praxian soldiers who used the gas executed, but I don’t buy it. And even if she did, so what? They still built their stronghold on Lehara, right in the shadow of the atrocity they were responsible for. So, are they really that bothered by what happened?”
Kira leaned in close, and Cade felt beckoned to do the same. He could smell the root on her breath, and he liked it. Something stirred within his gut; the mixture of the root swirling inside of him, the intensity of Kira’s story, and being this close to her was making his hands shake. He was swimming deep—too deep—and he knew he’d better start paddling back to shore before he embarked any further into uncharted waters.
“Does that answer your question? I saw something on Lehara that I never, ever want to see again. That’s why I do what I do, and I challenge Praxis to try and stop me.”
Cade raised his glass to take a drink, only to realize it was empty. Kira called for another round. As she did, Cade studied her, just as he had been studying her during her entire recollection. There could be a lot of ways to describe Cade—underachiever, troublemaker, undisciplined. But for all his flaws, there were still a few things Cade had going for him. One such thing, salient to this moment with Kira, was his prowess as an accomplished liar. He could talk his way out of just about any situation, he could connive and cajole to get things he wanted, and, because of that, he could detect his own kind. While the root coming off Kira’s breath was potent, what was just as potent was the sliver of phoniness behind her story. It was all true, every word of it, and it was tragic. Kira’s rendition of it was perfect. But that was her tell. It was too perfect. Kira was good, Cade gave her that, but not good enough to kid a kidder. And Cade had just enough drinks in him to call her on it.
“I believe you,” he said. “I believe every word you just said.”
Kira arched a curious eyebrow. “That’s … an odd response. Thanks, I guess?”
“Now, look. I don’t want to say that what you experienced on Lehara doesn’t give you your, um … intense drive. It’s a story, and it helps make you you. But it’s not the story.”
Another round appeared, and Kira immediately lifted her glass. She looked impassively at Cade, and he wondered when she’d splash her root right in his face. But, instead, she smiled. A devilish smile.
“You’re smarter than you look, Sura.”
Relieved, Cade raised his glass to match Kira’s. “Yeah, well, I don’t look all that great, so that’s not hard.”
“True.”
“Screw you.”
Kira downed her root without so much as batting an eye. She was beyond that. She thumped down her glass, then upturned her lip into a sly smile. “In your dreams.”
Cade polished off his drink, trying to remember how many this made. Five? Twenty? He’d lost count. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wasn’t paddling back to shore like he should have been. He was way, way out in the deep, and there was a massive wave rising from the depths, cresting right in front of his face. It was about to crash on top of him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
The rest of the night was a complete blur.
CHAPTER SIX
Cade woke up on the floor of the Horizon Dawn with a dry mouth, a sore nose, and pounding pain in his head. It was as if his skull had shrunk overnight and it was now squeezing his brain like a vice. He peeled himself off the grimy metal, even as his stomach, which churned with every move he made, implored him to stay put. Dry blood was caked under his nose, and it was sensitive to his touch. It wasn’t broken, which was a relief, though it was swollen enough so that every breath he took was paired with a sibilant hiss. He sounded, and felt, like a tire running out of air.
As he got to his feet, he nearly smashed his head on the drop-down bed protruding out from the ship’s wall just above him. Great, he thought. I managed to pull out the bed but still wound up on the floor. But then came the moment of curiosity a
s Cade realized there was a strange body lying in his bed. He should have been alarmed, or at least concerned, by the sight of a slender, arched back crowding his sight at eye level, but he just didn’t have it in him. He was too tired and sore to get worked up about anything.
Agitation, though—agitation he could muster. And that’s what he felt when the back uncurled, and Cade realized he’d been staring at Kira.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said as she stretched out, dressed in a tank top that hung loosely from her slight shoulders down to her underpants.
“Is it?” Cade grumbled. “I hardly know where we are, let alone when.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember last night,” Kira said as she leaned down and caressed Cade’s cheek while shooting him a tender smile. “And how special it was for both of us.”
Regret and dread vied for dominance within Cade, overworking his already frayed nerves. And then there was Kira, wearing much too little, distracting every thought that got started in his mind. The last thing he needed was to get entangled with her or anyone, and no one, especially Kira, deserved to be his cure for loneliness. Still, while the practical and sensitive half of Cade’s brain laid out all the reasons why sleeping with Kira had been a bad idea, the cruder half of his brain was excited by the very same bad idea. As he looked at her, dumbfounded, he tried to summon at least a hazy recollection of the previous night from his mind. But there was nothing there.
“Did we, um…”
Kira stopped her caress and slapped Cade, not gently, across his face, breaking his stupor.
“Please. You could hardly walk back to your ship, let alone try to coax me into this wonderful bed of yours. And this is assuming I would even entertain the idea.”
Cade vigorously rubbed his eyes as Kira jumped down from the bed and started getting dressed. Her explanation was a lot more probable than what he’d previously thought. And yet, despite all his hang-ups, Cade couldn’t help but feel a little crestfallen.
“So, what happened, then?” Cade asked. “I remember being at the bar. I remember us having drinks. A lot of drinks. And then … and then, then there’s a patch of nothing in my brain.”
“Well, first, the bar closed, as bars tend to do. When that happened, you were too blasted to make it back to your own ship, so I had to haul your sorry ass all the way back.”
Cade groaned in embarrassment. “Okay, but my nose. How did I bust my nose?”
“Uh, you fell trying to get inside,” Kira said. “I had to carry you in like a wee little baby.”
“Shut. Up. You did not.”
“Okay, maybe not like a baby, but I did have to drag you up the ramp.”
There were other questions in need of asking about the hours that were lost from his memory, but Cade had had enough humiliation for one morning. Besides, he had to get back to Ticus and clean himself up before Tristan’s service. He managed to stand up, swaying a little in the process, and to keep down all the root that he felt swirling around inside of him.
Kira bent down to grab her flight jacket, and Cade spotted the beginnings of a scar dug into her chest, just below her shoulder. He didn’t mean to gawk at it, but it caught his attention. Kira had always been an enigma to him, and here was this thing on her that had to have a story. He wondered how it happened, but he knew better than to ask.
“My eyes are up here,” Kira said. Cade snapped out of his staring and spun around, away from Kira. The too-fast movement threatened to erupt his insides right out of him.
“Sorry,” Cade mumbled as he turned his back on Kira and started to get dressed. “My mind’s not even here yet.”
Silence captured the ship, only to be interrupted by an incoming comms. Cade threw on his tunic and spotted Kira at the comms portal.
“No!” he yelled, quick and panicked. “I know what that call is about, and I don’t even want to deal with it.”
“Facing things that make you uncomfortable is good for you,” Kira said, her finger hovering over the button that would accept the transmission. “Builds character.”
“Kira,” Cade warned.
“I think you should,” Kira replied as she dropped her finger on the pad.
Before Cade could lob every curse he knew at Kira, a pixilated face of a man began to take shape just above his head. Before it came fully into view, Cade recognized the stiff posture and could identify the stern throat-clearing rasp that belonged to only one man: Cardinal Master Teeg.
“Cade Soora,” Teeg intoned in his Galibad accent. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, you found me,” Cade replied, hoping to end all inquiry into his whereabouts right there and then.
“You’re weren’t in the hauspital; you weren’t in your quarters. Where were you?”
Behind Teeg’s projection, Kira pantomimed drinking straight from a liquor bottle, followed by wobbling with her eyes crossed. Cade choked back a growl and focused instead on Teeg. “Just, you know … taking some time alone. After everything, I needed some time by myself.”
Teeg’s purple face—marked by traditional Galibad tribal markings stitched onto his cheeks—pressed closer in the comms projector, and his eyes sharply narrowed. Despite the image’s graininess brought on by a poor connection, Cade easily picked up on the dissatisfaction in Teeg’s expression. It wasn’t uncommon to Cade. Once, long ago, Cade imagined that the Cardinal Master position would be filled by a wise, soulful individual who shepherded everyone’s noble mission at the Well with delicacy and grace. That wasn’t how Teeg operated. He didn’t capture the role of Cardinal Master by being everyone’s kindly grandpa; like most leaders, Teeg manipulated and connived his way up the Well’s ladder, primarily motivated by his desire to get himself to the top. Now he was there, having seemingly forgotten why he was climbing in the first place, and everyone had to deal with a leader whose vision didn’t extend beyond the bridge of his nose.
“Were you on Aria?” Teeg pointedly asked.
“Aria?” Cade said as he stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t been here—there. I haven’t been there.”
“Regardless, myself and the other Masters would like you to come to the sanctum for … questioning.”
“Questioning?” Cade asked, careful not to show his indignation. “About what?”
“Details of your trip to Quarry, of course. Standard for this kind of situation.”
“Standard? There’s never been a Paragon before. Ever. How can … whatever it is that you’re talking about be standard?”
Teeg puffed out an agitated breath. “Are you disobeying the chain of command—once again?”
“No, sir,” Cade said sheepishly after drawing a deep breath. He knew there was no use in arguing, and no point. Neither side of the discussion cared what the other had to say, but it was only Cade who recognized that.
“Then we will see you at the sanctum directly after your brother’s funeral.”
Teeg faded in the projector, glaring at Cade as his image disappeared. Cade couldn’t have been happier to see a digital person vanish.
With Teeg gone, Cade got to work weighing his options while he absentmindedly straightened his wrinkled tunic. He knew what was happening: The Masters didn’t believe he was the Paragon, and this sanctum meeting was likely their way to withhold the Rokura once they officially recorded credible doubt. Cade loathed being stuck in the middle of the Well’s bureaucracy. If there was one thing the Masters excelled at, it was getting in the way of themselves and everyone around them. Cade would sooner evacuate himself out of an airlock before he got his hands that kind of dirty. In fact, had Kira not been on his ship with him, this would be a fine time to disappear and forget he had anything to do with any magical weapon.
“Don’t let him talk to you like that,” Kira said.
Cade looked at Kira and, as his attention diverted away from his thoughts, he realized he was no longer patting the wrinkles out of his tunic; he was gripping the fabric hard, at his chest, his han
ds clenched in a white-knuckle grip. “Oh, that’s just how Teeg is,” Cade said as he slowly let go of his tunic. “It’s, you know … it’s fine.”
“No, it is not fine,” Kira snapped. “If Papa Teeg talked to me like that he’d be eating his meals through a straw for a long time.”
“Well, I don’t beat up old people.”
Cade walked toward the cockpit, but Kira blocked his way. “You’re the Paragon, Cade. And even if you weren’t—let’s just say—no one should treat you that way. It’s not right, and you should know that.”
“Thanks,” Cade softly said, even though what he wanted to say was that he didn’t care. He appreciated Kira’s support, but he didn’t care about what Teeg had to say or Kira’s take on it. Tristan was dead, and all Cade wanted was to be gone.
Kira cleared the path for Cade but called him back before he could get to his ship’s controls.
“So, hey—my squad all left last night,” Kira said, breaking the discomfort between them. “Mind if I hitch a ride back to the Well?”
“Sure, sure, of course,” Cade said, feeling the night’s exploits suddenly bubble up inside of him. “I’m just gonna puke really fast.”
* * *
“Approaching fighter-class vessel, what is your clearance code? I repeat: Approaching fighter-class vessel, what is your clearance code?”
Cade thumbed through the control panel’s many menus and submenus, growling as he tried to burrow through the security firewalls and nab his landing code. Duke had these things memorized, which gave Cade just another reason to curse the salty old drone.
“Fighter vessel, if you do not respond we will consider you a hostile vessel and execute defensive measures. Meaning—we will shoot you out of the sky.”
“All right, all right!” Cade barked into the comms receiver. “I’m getting it!”
“What’s the problem in here?” Kira asked as she stormed into the cockpit.
“Just Rao being uptight as usual,” Cade said. “He can see this hunk of junk on the monitor by now—what does he think we’re capable of doing? And isn’t visual confirmation enough?”
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