Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) (23 page)

Briefly, Branwen considered the things Merlo had spoken of just hours earlier. In the end, however, she thought better of mentioning any of them. If Merlo was right, and there was little chance the Altairans could help send her home, then there was even less chance that they could alleviate her people’s woes. Besides, she felt that mentioning that her young friend was actually a member of a highly trained, technologically advanced military organization, however “harmless,” would do little to speed them on their way.

“Is there any way, perhaps, that we could contact you again? In the event, say, Merlo thinks of something relevant once given more time to deliberate the matter?” Branwen queried as she rose to her feet in time with Merlo, and Batalome likewise followed suit on his side of the room.

“Of course. If you should remember anything you would think to be of use, please contact me directly, and I will do what I can to assist you.” With a flick of his finger, he somehow threw his contact information from the screen on his desk to Merlo’s datapad. It lit up indicatively from where it still rested against her thigh, cradled by her suit. The ease of the action briefly boggled Branwen before she noticed that Merlo was already on her way to the door.

Moving quickly, she stepped back over to the desk and extended her arm again. “Well met, and thank you, Arden Batalome.” The man clasped her arm in return, this time seeming unphased by the gesture.

“And you as well, Captain. Thank you for your assistance, and it was nice to meet you.” He nodded politely at Branwen, but she noticed his eyes dart behind her as she heard the swish of doors opening. So she just nodded once more with a firm respect, gave his arm a good shake, and departed to catch up to Merlo as the girl began to wander out, Branwen’s datapad insistently chiming once more as she went.

9.2
- Branwen

They were down to the base of the building again, waiting for a transport back to the
Destiny
before Branwen had a chance to see what was going on with her datapad, but she still didn’t immediately take advantage of it. She wanted instead to salve Merlo’s wounds, but for once, she felt she had little wisdom to share. What does one do to salve the pain of loss? Sometimes, only time is the answer. Time, and distance. The incident didn’t seem like it was truly Altair’s fault, but if having someone to blame helped Merlo move past it, perhaps it was for the best.

The problem lay in how Merlo had reacted once she’d fully internalized what had happened. Branwen didn’t think Merlo truly blamed anyone at the moment, except maybe herself. Turning it over in her mind, Branwen half-hoped the girl would go on blaming Altair instead; but more likely, she could see Merlo wondering whether she could have been faster, or smarter, or somehow just
better
, and thereby saved her crew and ship.

Once again, Branwen could sympathise. Unfortunately, in her experience, time was indeed the only cure, and what a bittersweet cure it could be. Even more unfortunately, telling someone struggling with loss to just “give it time” was an action that rarely bore useful fruit.

So since she couldn’t pull her aside and offer any useful insight like she might have wanted, she just laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder and gave it her best comforting squeeze while they waited amidst the throng. Merlo looked back up at her, and Branwen offered her a sympathetic smile, trying her best to look available for a hug, in case Merlo was so inclined. She didn’t get taken up on that offer, but Merlo did put an appreciative hand on top of Branwen’s, looking back up at her with a wan smile and reddened eyes. They stood there together for a long moment, simply taking reassurance in each others’ presences.

Then it suddenly struck her, as she stood looking down at Merlo’s youthful face, stained by freshly kindled grief: Merlo was probably about the same age as she had been when she’d lost her mother to war, and she remembered how hard that loss had been on her, when she’d had the time to dwell on it at all. In fact—

“You not going to get that, Captain?” Merlo asked dryly, still staring up at her, but now with an arched, slightly amused eyebrow above the grief-worn silvery eyes.

“What?” Then she heard it: her datapad was trying to get her attention again. At least, she assumed that was what it wanted.

“It’s been beeping at you since the end of our meeting.” Damn. And she’d hoped no one had noticed. She might not know exactly who Batalome was in the Legion, but she’d had no desire to show off her unfamiliarity with space-etiquette during the meeting. She’d have to ask Mr. Leonard how to properly control her datapad so that it didn’t happen again. On the other hand, at least Merlo seemed to find it funny. Bloody girl.

The platform rumbled with the telltale low vibrations that heralded the arrival of the long, gravity-defying trains. She boarded it, making sure she was safely inside and seated with Merlo before taking out her pad. She lurched as its initial acceleration caught her by surprise again, but motion and sound from outside was muffled remarkably well, and she soon acclimated to it well enough to turn her pad on.

Mr. Leonard’s face popped up on it almost immediately. “Captain! I was starting to get worried.” He did look a bit anxious.

“You knew we might be a while. We were at a rather important meeting.”

He winced slightly, even though Branwen hadn’t meant or said it remotely harshly. “I know Captain, and I’m very sorry, but something has come up.”

“Is there some sort of trouble?” She was immediately serious. From her seat on the black padded bench next to Branwen, Merlo leaned her head over to see the pad’s backlit viewscreen as well, a concerned expression making its way across the remaining melancholy of her features.

Mr. Leonard glanced back and forth furtively and lowered his voice before answering, as if nervous someone might be listening. Which, Branwen supposed, was admittedly less telling than it might be with most people. “Captain, Zimi found us a job. It’s as a passenger transport, and they want to leave right away, if possible.”

“You both know my feelings on carrying passengers.” It was essentially free money if they were carrying cargo as well, but she’d sworn it off on account of several instances of passengers causing trouble or irritation. She’d had to deal with everything from a man hitting on Merlo until she’d hit him back—complete with bloodied nose—to attempted thefts, to the presence of so many unfamiliar faces simply making Mr. Leonard too nervous to ever come out of the engine room.

“Yes, of course, Captain.” He was still talking quietly. “But, we felt you might want to consider this one anyway. It’s… She’s a Kala. And she sought Zimi out specifically to ask if she could hire the
Destiny
.” That statement was so surprising and interesting that a change in the momentum of their transport made her almost fumble her datapad, but she managed to catch it before it fully exited her hands. She somewhat sheepishly flipped it back over and looked down again at Mr. Leonard’s still-anxious face.

“In that case, tell them that I will be there as soon as possible.” She hadn’t heard of the Kalaset until coming to space, but she’d definitely heard of it once she had. She didn’t feel she fully understood it, of course, but she knew enough to recognize that this could be an excellent opportunity for the
Destiny Abounds
and her crew, exactly the kind she’d been looking for, in fact.

“Then, I will, um, tell Zimi to tell them that. Yes Captain.” He nodded a couple of times in quick succession, his feathery blond head bobbing wildly for a moment before the communication cut.

Branwen turned her head from the now-blank pad, looking over at Merlo, who now leaned against her, shoulder to shoulder, her oddly heavy weight threatening to push Branwen slowly off her edge of the seat and into the floor. Merlo looked back, their faces a mere handspan apart for a moment.

"Captain, I thought Kalas were those things we ate on The Bazaar that gave you gas." Branwen snorted in sudden amusement, and then drew a lot of curious Altairan attention as she devolved into all-out laughter. Once it subsided, she spent the rest of the trip back to the ship trying, and failing, to get Merlo to understand the concept of the Kalaset.

9.3
- Prisoner 286

“I thought you were in a hurry.” 286 looked down at the petite figure of Sirrah, now holding a parasol and small satchel, having completely changed clothes again for whatever reason. Now she was robed in some flowing silky bronzy thing and ornate sandals, and 286 had no idea why she had felt the need to stop and change out of perfectly serviceable clothes just to grab a damn ship.

The Kala smiled back up at her with an amused twist to her perfect lips. “We are.”

“But we’re waiting. Just standing here.”

“Also true.”

“When we could be doing whatever it is that’s so important, instead.” 286 crossed her arms and rested her back against the side of the weird looking ship. Sirrah had said she’d rather stay outside until they talked to the captain of the vessel, which made even less sense. If they were already on board when this Captain came around, it’d just be that much harder to get rid of them.

“Not really.” Yeah, she definitely sounded amused. 286 had decided that this woman had to be extremely odd. And probably had some form of death wish.

“There are other ships, you know.”

Finally, after another quiet moment, Sirrah sighed. “Not that are likely faster than this one. And I need a
very
fast ship.” She tilted the parasol and looked more fully up at 286, using the dainty little umbrella to shade her eyes from the bright lights of the Altairan star dock. “You realize that waiting just a little bit, even an hour, could be made up a hundredfold if their pilot is as good at slipjumps as the rumors say she is, right?”

286 just stared blankly at her for a long moment, then her face broke into a wide grin of amusement. Sirrah sighed once more in a manner indicative of long suffering, and shook her head. She began to idly twirl the delicate parasol while they waited. Across the landing strip from the
really
strange ship 286 leaned against, several random attendants held all the things Sirrah had “absolutely needed” for the journey. 286 just shook her head. At least the trip wouldn’t be boring.

She hoped.

9.4
- Branwen

As the landing area came into view, Branwen slowed her jog and took a deep, settling breath, straightening her tunic from where it had bunched up irritatingly under her ample bust. She wanted to look presentable when she came into the Kala’s view. Behind her, Merlo didn’t even have the decency to be breathing hard, having wordlessly followed along as they jogged from the transport area to the starport tower, and again from the elevator exit to here.

Further down the massive metal pathway, she spotted the distinctive profile of the
Destiny
, waiting patiently with sky-ships of all shapes and sizes gathered around, flanking both sides of the aisle all the way down. Over the sturdy railing to either side loomed a precipitous drop that was made less ominous by the Mizarian crystal layer that spanned between platforms to avoid any tragedies.

From the vantage point of the high walkway, Branwen enjoyed a fairly impressive view of the plethora of lights glowing across a busy night time Altair. The drop-off past the edge of the protective rails didn’t
quite
bother Branwen, but she didn’t seek it out, either. It was odd to her that it might bother her at all, as she’d always loved the view and wind of tall castle towers and magnificent cliffs. She chalked it up to the disconnect, the unease that often stalked her in these alien places.

Branwen put such thoughts away as they neared her ship and she saw what could only be her prospective passengers. A cluster of nicely-dressed young girls stood around chatting politely amongst themselves, but Branwen saw that they held a plethora of boxes, garment bags, and suitcases; she recognized porters when she saw them, and her interest wasn’t in them. The other two individuals were an entirely different matter. They were a mismatched pair; one was a graceful, beautiful Altairan female of average height, and the other was a rough, strong-looking woman at least as tall as Branwen herself.

Well, I believe I know which one is from the Kalaset.
The Kala was, as expected, absolutely beautiful. Branwen wasn’t even sure it was possible to exaggerate her appearance; from what she could see, the woman was totally flawless, not a single hair out of place. Her exotic, silver and white robes accented the medium undertones of her skin, contrasted the pitch-black hair, and set off her gold-flecked brown eyes perfectly. Her movements, her poise, the expressions on her face all suggested to Branwen someone in complete control of the persona they allowed the world to see. Varied but subtle accenting jewelry, fancy open shoes, and a vestigial umbrella completed the presentation. Branwen could completely understand how impressive the Kalaset must seem to most people.

Her companion was obviously a bodyguard, or at least someone whose occupation was to look for trouble, and she also cut an impressive figure. Her build was thinner than Branwen’s, but she would have bet on those corded muscles being just as strong if not stronger. She wore a dark shirt with the sleeves torn free, above heavy, worn pants with lots of pockets, but no visible weapons. Part of her multi-hued hair was missing, presumably on purpose for the intimidation effect, and the rest either stood up or was brushed to the side. She didn't have much in the way of feminine curves, but her relaxed pose belied a coiled serpent, a real predator, and her hazel eyes were sharp with intelligence. Branwen didn’t know how capable this woman actually was, but she realized instinctively that she was the dangerous sort.