The ship assigned to us for the mission was the Tek’raqiq De-striit. It was a relatively small craft, outfitted with sleeping quarters and a small galley for overnight trips, but it was prized mainly for its speed and not intended for long journeys. I was told if all went as planned we would be back in Dhal’at by the next morning. In the interest of preparing for a mechanical malfunction or an act of nature, I spent my first few hours in Ka-lik’et helping the rest of the crew load the engine room with spare parts and repair equipment, as well as stocking the galley with several days’ worth of food. We were primed for potential problems with the Tek’raqiq, but it did not escape my notice we were extraordinarily vulnerable to potential problems with the Novai. My opinion that the Elders were intentionally getting me out of their way and sending me into the line of fire was strengthened with each passing minute.

I was well-acquainted with most of the crew. They were fairly young warriors, save for the Communications Officer, who had been in his position since I first entered the militia. As the ship was limited in space, the crew was comprised of only the most necessary roles. However, I felt the Elders had actually made wise, thoughtful selections: the two mechanics on board were experienced and respected; the Navigations Officer had twenty-three successful missions under his belt; Yazzi, the Chief-of-Arms, was reputed never to have missed a target.

“Who has been assigned as captain?” I asked one of the mechanics as we carried a replacement booster to the engine room. I was a skilled pilot, but I had not been informed whether I would be leading this mission, though I sincerely doubted Sevani would have allowed the Council to charge me with such a responsibility.

“We have not yet been told,” he replied with a grunt. Simultaneously, we heaved the booster into its designated corner and trekked back through the ship to disembark and bring in the extra gravity stabilizer. As I scaled the ramp into the garish sunlight, however, I noticed an all-too-familiar face approaching.

He walked with long strides and purpose. Unlike the last time I had seen him, his head was tilted up with stern dignity, and he held his shoulders squarely. The belt around his waist was fully outfitted with weaponry from blades to guns of various sizes, and the jodhpurs he wore looked to be freshly cleaned. I waved the mechanic on alone and strode forward to meet the newcomer.

“Quite the difference a week makes,” I remarked, skimming my eyes from his revived cheeks to his new boots. “You are looking well, Venan.”

“Thank you, but I have always been the better-looking twin,” he returned slyly.

I grinned. He was rebounding from the nightmare of his recent past more than I would have anticipated by this point. “Have you come to see me off, brother?”

“Hardly.” He straightened up further, puffing out his chest with such vigor the sheaths and holsters dangling around his hips bumped against each other. “I have been named Captain for this mission.”

So surprised was I that I laughed. Venan’s face flushed navy, and he scowled at me with indignance. Before his irritation could commute to temper, I waved a hand and choked back the rest of my chortles. “I apologize,” I said, wheezing slightly. “You are well-suited to the job, I do not doubt. My response was not intended to imply otherwise. I am merely astonished the Elders have the gall to demand your service so soon after putting you through all they did.”

“The Elders did not assign me to this task,” Venan stoutly corrected me. “I requested the position.”

“Oh? I was not aware you had a fondness for space travel.”

He frowned. “You know quite well I am not fond of space travel,” he said. “Nor am I all too fond of the Novai. I simply feel it is my duty to help wherever I am able to serve Dhal’at and the A’li-uud, as well as those in our charge.”

I skated a brow toward my hairline. He had always felt his duty was to help the kingdom, but he had never before stepped forward and asked to be included in a space mission. “Come now, brother,” I said knowingly. “Remember to whom you speak, all I have been through. Duty and obligation aside, you requested captaincy because you want a reason to slip away from the last couple of months, if only for a moment.”

Again, his skin deepened to navy as he became defensive and snapped, “And if I do? I will still be serving my kingdom.”

“You will meet no judgment from me,” I assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and jostling him a bit. “If I were in your place, I would have disappeared the moment those bars were opened. I have done exactly that, come to think of it. No, Venan, you might be the better-looking twin only in your mind, but you are definitively of greater moral fortitude than I. Dhal’at is lucky to have your devotion.”

I clapped his shoulder once more and then started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he called to my departing back.

“To fetch Phoebe,” I responded, turning around to face him and walking backward. “We are nearly ready for take-off, Captain.”

* * *

The market walk was busy, as usual, but business during the day was an entirely different entity than business in the depths of the night hours. Those mingling about in the center of the sand-washed road strode slowly in groups to eye the goods for sale and talked amongst each other, and the vendors were not silent with covert secrets available only to those in their circle. A gentle breeze flapped the edges of the dynamic booth canopies and urged shoppers to venture a closer look at the merchandise within. This was the reason the Ka-lik’et market was the largest, most frequented trade hub on Albaterra.

A scream ripped through the hum of activity, and my blood immediately turned cold. I knew that voice, though I had never heard it in such trills of terror before.

Phoebe.

I sprang into a sprint, tearing through the crowd without care for pardons or personal space. My elbow crashed into a startled female dressed in clothes native to rural Dhal’at, and I heard her screaming obscenities at me as I flew past her. I was running so fast faces became blurs, but I knew I had not yet met the one face I was seeking.

When I saw her, I bellowed. She was struggling, her fingers clawing manically at a thickly-muscled forearm and her heels dragging helplessly over the stone street. To her throat was pressed a slender blade around which beads of bright blood were already forming. A scarred mask, once marred only by a single crease but now mangled with two crossed slashes as well, peered with evil glee through a net of her hair.

It was Terrik.

He had spotted me before I had realized his identity, and his eyes were flashing with malice. A’li-uud around them were clearing back with just two courageous males stepping forward to demand Phoebe’s release. Terrik’s reputation preceded him, especially in Ka-lik’et. Few criminals were willing to tangle with him, let alone innocent bystanders of a purer lifestyle. A sickening pit dropped into my stomach as I realized he likely would have gotten away with her had I not shown up at the right time.

There was no time to muse over alternate possibilities, though. I wanted her away from him. Now.

I sprang toward him, unsheathing my daggers in a swift fraction of a second, and he twisted away. Phoebe was thrown to the ground, and I saw tiny droplets of blood spatter the stone as she landed hard on her front. My instinct was to go to her, but to do so would mean turning my back to Terrik, and that was a deadly move. Thankfully, her friend Edie disengaged herself from the throng of onlookers and scrambled to help Phoebe stand.

“Zuran. How nice to see you again,” Terrik said slickly, crossing one foot over the other to step sideways. I mirrored his movement, and we began circling with our eyes locked.

“How dare you touch her,” I hissed through my teeth. My daggers were light in my grasp, ready to delve into flesh and pierce muscle.

“Touching her was the least of my intentions,” he jeered.

I roared with fury and lunged. Before I reached him, however, a melodic plea caressed my ears, freezing me in my tracks.

“Zuran. Please don’t.”

Shouts were rising in the distance, and I heard the steady thump of footfalls seconds later. Terrik was still leering at me, but he had not moved, either because he felt he did not yet have enough of an advantage or because he wanted me to attack first. I looked at Phoebe, curled against Edie’s tiny form with sand dusting her face and knees. A single trickle of blood was beginning to dry in a trail from her neck to her collar from the surface slit across her throat.

“Don’t do it,” she whispered. I could barely hear her, but I saw her lips form the words and felt the tug of her entreaty in my heart. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The shouts were louder now. A breath later, a group of guards broke through the crowd, yelling orders in A’li-uud for everyone to clear away. I hesitated. My past self, the Zuran of revenge and selfishness and vigilante justice, was aching to spring forth and plunge both daggers into each side of Terrik’s chest. But I had nothing to lose then. I had everything to lose now.

My feet acted for me. I took a step back, then another, before turning my back on the A’li-uud I once would have died for and taking the hand of the human I now lived for.