Page 70

Story: Secrecy

As we reached the end of the walkway, I gently caught her elbow, determined to understand what had changed in the brief time we'd been apart. "Morgan, what's going on? You're acting?—"

The doors of the inclinator swished open, and Serge emerged, resplendent in a lavender suit that contrasted with his purple hair. He clapped his hands at the sight of us.

"Perfect timing!" he exclaimed. "I was just coming to collect you. Can't have our honored guests late for dinner with the captain, now can we?"

Before I could protest, he had ushered us both into the inclinator, continuing to chatter as the doors closed and the compartment began to move.

"You know, retrieving tribute brides and other important guests isn't always as straightforward as your rescue was," Serge informed us as peppy music filled the small space and recessed lighting pulsed in soft pink waves above our heads. "Once, I had to track down a tribute bride who’d taken refuge in a therapeutic mud spa and refused to leave. The mud was holographic, of course, but the smell never fully came out of my favorite jacket."

He shuddered dramatically, his hair tinged pink at the roots. "I've seen more than any Gatazoid should see in this line of work, let me tell you."

I tried to catch Morgan's eye, desperate for some clue to her sudden change in demeanor, but she kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, seemingly fascinated by the inclinator's control panel.

Had I imagined our connection? Had it all meant something entirely different to her than it had to me?

The inclinator doors slid open, revealing what Serge proudly announced was "The Promenade,” a spacious area designed to resemble an Earth town center, complete with cobblestone paths, quaint shops with striped awnings, and café tables set along the thoroughfare. Drexians, humans, and a few aliens strolled leisurely through the space, creating the illusion of a bustling downtown.

"This is incredible," Morgan said, her eyes widening as she took in the details. "It looks so much like Earth. Fancy Earth, I mean. Not towns I lived in." She turned to me then, finally meeting my gaze, even as her expression remained guarded. "If you like this, you’ll like Earth."

My heart sank as realization dawned. It all made sense now. Somehow, she knew about Kax's visit. She must have overheard our conversation about the promotion, about me potentially leaving the academy.

"Morgan, I need to explain—" I began urgently.

"Captain Kalex! How lovely to see you," Serge called out, cutting me off as the tall Drexian approached us.

Captain Kalex wore the same uniform he had earlier, but he had a woman accompanying him. “May I present to you, my wife Zoey?”

“You’re human,” Morgan said to the stunning woman with short, black hair who was dressed in simple black pants and a glittery blue top.

Zoey laughed, her dark eyes sparkling. “I am.” She nudged the captain. “My husband has excellent taste in women.”

The corners of the captain’s mouth quirked as he looked adoringly at his wife. “Shall we proceed to dinner? I'm eager to hear more about your mission."

As we followed Captain Kalex, I managed to fall into step beside Morgan, close enough to speak without being overheard. "Whatever you think you heard?—"

"Doesn't matter," she whispered back, her voice tight. "It's your career, your decision. I get it."

"No, you don't," I insisted quietly. "This isn't as simple as?—"

"Maybe we should talk about this later," she cut me off, forcing a smile as Captain Kalex and Zoey glanced back at us. "After dinner."

I wanted to argue, to make her understand that the promotion that had once been my greatest aspiration now felt hollow. Instead, I nodded and tried to focus on Drexian protocol. Yet with every step, I felt the distance between us growing.

And despite all my training, I had no protocol for fixing that.

Chapter

Forty-Seven

Zoran

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the dark stone walls of my quarters. Steam billowed around me as I stepped from the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around my waist. My muscles ached from the mission, but the hot water had helped ease some of the tension. Not all of it, though. No amount of scalding water could wash away the worry that had settled deep in my bones.

I padded across the thick, plush rug that Noora had insisted on placing in front of the fireplace. "To make the room less like a military bunker," she'd said. My gaze drifted across the space that no longer resembled the spartan quarters I'd inhabited for years. Colorful throw pillows adorned the chairs, blankets in sumptuous fabrics were draped across the foot of the bed, and a vase with fresh flowers sat on a side table.

Before Noora, I'd never understood the need for such things. Now, I couldn't imagine living without them. Or without her.

But even the comforts of my quarters couldn't distract me from the mission that had gone so terribly wrong. I'd been holed up in my office with Vyk and Deklyn since our return, poring over star charts and grid searches, searching for any sign of Tivek and Morgan.