If the universe had heard our prayers, though, it gave no sign. Death claimed Qumarah and spared me, though I was left with neurological damage that took over a year to fully recover from, and a cold, black hole inside of me that it seemed I would never be able to fill again.
This was why the fleet admirals had been so hesitant about giving me my own command. They were worried that in my grief and loneliness, I still maintained a death wish – not a welcome trait in a captain, with so many other crewmembers depending on him for their very survival. In truth, though, I had come to feel that only a command of my own would allow me to embrace life again. And now, at last, I had it.
Recently, I'd learned of a small but steadily growing movement on Thirren – parents who were deliberately choosing to have the vaccine withheld from their offspring, in the name of paranoia and ancient superstitions which had long ceased to be relevant. I cursed them bitterly, thinking of the countless other innocents who would suffer as a result of such foolishness, just as Qumarah had.
I hated those people with a fiery intensity that dwarfed my hostility toward the Pax. Indeed, once the battle for Nort was underway, I had every intention of picturing each Pax in my crosshairs as a Hielsrane who endangered their child in such a way.
But first things first.
I reached the airlock and stared at the access panel, my claw poised over the buttons. I tried not to think about how many others had used the panel that day and more specifically, how many of them had sanitized their claws before doing so. How many germs might be swarming on it, invisible to my eyes? How many strains of bacteria, wriggling and copulating and multiplying by the second?
I shook my head. The healers at the facility where I recovered had told me such thoughts were natural in the aftermath of the loss I'd suffered. They said I simply had to learn to overcome them, rather than giving in to the fear they provoked.
Easier said than done.
I steeled myself and punched the button, trying to ignore the imagined sensation of millions of grubby little foreign cells squirming on the tip of my claw. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop myself from pausing at the first sani-station I found and cleaning it three times before proceeding to the command deck.
I hoped none of my crewmembers saw such a display. Ships were small communities, and word of a commanding officer's severe germaphobia would spread quickly. No doubt everyone on board had already heard about my recent troubles and gossiped about them among themselves.
Well, nothing to be done about it now. I'd simply have to earn their respect, just like any other captain.
I stepped onto the command deck and looked around, surprised. Ranel was already standing at his post, and so were all of the other officers. They looked at me expectantly.
“Didn't waste any time, did you?” I asked Ranel, glancing at the chronometer. I'd ordered him to assemble the crew in fifteen cleks, and he'd done it in less than ten.
“You give the orders, sir. We're standing by to follow them.” Ranel's previous mocking tone was gone, replaced with the flat and simple inflection of an officer awaiting his next task. It was one thing to tease me privately, but he knew better than to start us off by undermining me in front of the others – that would be a certain recipe for dissension and, ultimately, failure.
“Very well.” I nodded to the navigator. “What's your name, Lieutenant?”
“Krelgir, sir.” He looked quite young for his rank. His scales shone an iridescent lavender, and his eyes matched, shimmering fearlessly.
“Mr. Krelgir, as I'm sure you're aware, there are two routes from here to Nort: One which will take us past Coovoo, and one which will take us past the Moset home world, both of which are part of the Pax Alliance.”
“I'm well aware, sir.” There was a hint of a smirk on Krelgir's face.
“Then perhaps you'd like to let us know your plan for getting us past their sensor arrays, so they won't be able to let Nort know we're coming.”
“Certainly, sir.” From the sound of his voice, Krelgir had been eagerly awaiting this line of questioning. “By dampening the vibrational output of our engines, I can trick their sensors into classifying us as a chunk of space debris putting out low-level solar radiation.”
“Not such a difficult trick,” Ranel muttered under his breath, “since this ship can easily be classified as space debris to begin with.”
“And what if the scientists of the Pax Alliance decide it's worth their time to scrutinize such a phenomenon more closely?” I pressed, ignoring Ranel's comment.
Krelgir gave me a lopsided grin. “Have you ever known the Pax to take an active interest in anything that didn't involve the immediate acquisition of slaves or natural resources? Sir,” he added quickly.
“You make a valid point, Lieutenant. And now, if all crew are present and accounted for, you may chart a course for Nort and engage.”
“Yes, sir.”
He punched in a series of commands on his console, and the Wyvern lurched forward, the sound of its engines building to a steady hum. I took my seat in the captain's chair, smiling broadly. I'd felt the gentle rumble of a starship's drive beneath me many times before.
But never from the command deck of my own vessel.
It was every bit as exciting as I'd always hoped.
3
Natalie
Every time I closed my eyes after a shift in the mines, my dreams were always the same.
The Pax Alliance had long since perfected a surgical procedure that would rob their slaves of the need for sleep, so they could be forced to work longer shifts. Such surgeries were
