The transport shuttle rocked as its thrusters made final adjustments, until the heavy vibration of the completed docking procedure thrummed in Asarik Leah’s chest, signalling she had finally arrived at InquiryShip Serens’ Reach. She sat up straighter in her seat, just missing bumping her head on the ceiling, and waited for the pilot to release the passengers. She looked around at the various people shifting in their seats, most wearing the standard Serensian blood-red duty uniform. Their collar insignia identified them as technicians or soldiers. Most would be arriving for their tours on the exploration vessel. She scanned for expressions of worry or disappointment and found only anticipation and mild boredom. She took that as a good sign.
Asarik’s own collar was blank, a request from her father, Lord Robert Karak, as he had handed her the new ShipLord’s insignia.
“Trust me,” he’d told her, using the tight councilman’s smile. “They know you’re coming. Wait until you’ve had a chance to look around, get a sense of the ship, meet ShipLord Till. Once you put this rank on, you’ll never get another chance to see the ship as everyone else does, to hear them speak the complete truth.”
She had wanted to respond, “No one ever speaks the complete truth, father. We’re Serensian, after all.” But she didn’t. There was a secret fragility in her hard father that only she seemed to recognize and dared not openly acknowledge.
If his worrying over her meant he was concerned about her assignment to the Serens’ Reach, he didn’t admit it. He had developed a nearly frantic interest in her career since her mother, ShipLord Ahsal Karak had died in combat three years ago, just as Asarik was graduating the academy and taking her first navigation assignment on Victory’s Ardor. He wavered between extreme pride in her accomplishments and desperate worry that Asarik was following in her mother’s footsteps, bound for the same end in the ongoing cold war with Gara System. His faith seemed shaken and Asarik Leah couldn’t bear to see it.
“Till and your mother served together, you know,” her father had told her before she left, but didn’t elaborate.
The pilot released the passengers and Asarik unfastened her harness. She waited until the seats in front of her cleared, then joined the queue off the shuttle. She had to bow her head to stand, and several people shot her surprised glances. She was too tall for a Serensian woman, like her mother before her, and she wore her curly black hair short. She had her father’s piercing blue eyes and people typically looked away when she met their gaze.
She didn’t have a chance to note the moment she stepped on Serens’ Reach because a business-like ensign was at the airlock, checking in the new arrivals with strict Serensian efficiency.
The ensign paused when his scan returned her name. He looked up at her with wide eyes, staring for an instant, then snapped an anxious salute. Captain Karak,” he stammered. “Welcome aboard.”
Asarik returned the salute. “Thank you,” she said. “Will you direct me to ShipLord Till’s location?”
He consulted his data pad and nodded. “The ShipLord is on the command deck, Captain.”
She would go the opposite direction, then. She thanked the ensign and walked through the airlock to the corridor on the other side.
Asarik had studied the schematics of Serens’ Reach for the last week following news of her assignment, and recognized her location immediately. They had docked near the belly of the ship, below the engines, where most cargo arrived. Father must have done her a favor and hidden her name on the manifest, which might account for the ensign’s surprise. She was glad there hadn’t been a greeting party.
Asarik started walking before ship’s officer could accost her and drag her to the command section.
She was familiar with the general construction of the InquiryShip. It was smaller than Victory’s Ardor, the long range CombatShip where she’d spent the last two years, but designed on the same concepts. Her gaze went immediately to small details on the walls and smooth floor that proved the crew were performing their duties to standard. The uniforms of passing crew were generally clean and worn correctly.
It wasn’t her assignment to Serens’ Reach that put worry in the pit of her stomach. Asarik knew the InquiryShip was a strong component of the Serensian fleet. Its long range studies of astronomical phenomena had contributed greatly to filling the gaps in scientific knowledge. What worried Asarik was her own mission on the ship: she was here to relieve ShipLord Till, take his place, and lead the ship on what her father secretly thought was a suicide mission.
Asarik spent the next hour walking the halls of the ship. She stopped at two small galleys and sampled the food. She walked anywhere she wouldn’t draw attention to herself, making mental notes of any deficiencies, listening to the conversations of soldier-scientists walking by. She watched workers load cargo in the main bay. From a railing overlooking a training area, she watched a contingent of sparring security personnel as they manipulated micro-gravity with their combat interfaces, leaping off walls, flinging waves of force at each other that dented the walls. Two fought with resonance blades and their misses gouged the alloy floor.
Her anxiety shifted away from her message for ShipLord Till and focused instead on the cannonball she was about to drop in the crew’s relatively peaceful, or at least dependable, lives.
Gradually, she made her way toward the command section, passing through the environmental section and the living quarters. She stopped to examine the leaves of greenery growing along the corridors, checking the plant health, and glanced in the open door of an apartment as she walked by. Everything suggested that Serens’ Reach was ready for the mission. The only remaining issue was ShipLord Till.
She found him on the command deck, a tall, gaunt man who stood behind his two navigation lieutenants like a hammer over nails. The Hawk of Destiny’s Fist. He noted her presence with a dull, uninterested gaze at first, ready to turn back to whatever he had been saying, until recognition snapped in his eyes, almost like surprise. His heavily wrinkled face creased in a half-smile.
“Captain Karak,” he said, loudly enough to get the attention of the command deck. “Welcome to Serens’ Reach.” He turned away from the navigation section and crossed to her, extending a hand in greeting.
Asarik shook his hand, since he’d offered it first, then gave him a salute as was custom in meeting the ShipLord.
Till returned the salute, eyes still bright with the bemused surprise. He clapped her on the shoulder with a firm grip. She was nearly his height but the gesture felt paternal. Asarik felt the eyes of the command section on them.
“For a moment I thought it was your mother standing before me,” he said. The edges of his lips turned down. “It pained me to learn of her death. I am sorry for your loss.”
Asarik acknowledged the sentiment with a tight nod. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t give us the opportunity to welcome you properly,” he said, still gripping her shoulder. “We’ll need to complete the on-boarding ceremony and have a proper officer’s mess.”
Till turned to look at one of his lieutenants, ready to start barking orders. Asarik didn’t want to postpone her news any longer than necessary.
“ShipLord Till,” she said, making her voice formal. “I need to speak to you privately. I have a new mission from the Council.”
The command deck had been quiet before as the crew watched Till greet her, judging her as well, she supposed. Now the atmosphere seemed to escape the room.
Till raised his eyebrows slightly and took his hand off her shoulder. He nodded. “Certainly, Captain Karak.” He motioned toward a door to her left. “We can meet in the planning room. This way, please.”
Asarik allowed herself to exhale a relieved breath and followed Till across the command deck.
#
At the doorway, as all eyes in the room continued to follow them, ShipLord Till stopped abruptly and turned to Asarik. He raised a bony finger.
“On second thought, Captain Asarik, I think you should make your announcement here.” He motioned toward the twenty or so crew watching from their consoles. “There’s no reason I should receive such important news before the rest of my crew. Please.” The plans room door had opened automatically at his approach. Till stepped to the side so that Asarik stood framed in the opening, offering her an easy out.
“ShipLord Till,” she began, not sure how to respond. Her message was for his ears, sent directly from the Council of Serens. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this display, especially if he already knew what she was going to say. Till had been a savvy combat commander in his day but now he babysat an exploration vessel. His retirement should come as a relief. Especially with the mission she carried.
Till’s blue eyes bored into hers. The edges of his lips might have been turned up in the slightest smile but his face was too wrinkled to know for sure.
Asarik squared her shoulders. She turned away from him to face the crew. She looked among the expectant faces. Many of them seemed only different versions of the people she had come to respect and even love on Victory’s Ardor. She experienced a heartbeat’s disorientation, overcome with the feeling that she had always been here, that they were all simply different versions of people she had known in a similar setting. Asarik steadied herself. She was the newcomer here. She was the one who had to prove herself. It was obvious now that Till was going to make her earn the transition.
Clearing her throat, she announced, “My name is Captain Asarik Leah Karak, recently of the CombatShip Victory’s Ardor. I am here on orders from the Council of Serens to inform you of a new mission.”
She met the gaze of each person watching her in turn, trying to read their expressions. Some looked expectant, others disapproving. She didn’t let herself focus only those who smiled at her. She forced her gaze to take in the frowns, the closed expressions. “Serens’ Reach has been chosen for a long range exploration mission to test the operational status of five dormant GalaxyGates.”
“Which gates?” one of the navigation lieutenants asked, a woman with classically Serensian short black hair and blue eyes.
Asarik nodded. It was a reasonable question. “Kinsla, Bitralis, Halith, Llinit and Yulan Sit.”
The two navigators nodded recognition as she spoke.
“This mission is a great honor for you and the rest of the crew. It reflects highly upon your efforts in the Garan conflict, your dedication as soldiers, scientists, and Serensians. You truly exemplify the ideals of Victory is Destiny.”
Someone in her peripheral vision made a choked sound. Asarik ignored them. She was handing them a suicide mission and the only way to do it was wrapped in patriotism.
She glanced at Till. She was sure he knew what she was about to say next. She wondered if her father had known as well. She met his gaze but couldn’t read anything in his gray eyes.
Asarik paused, offering Till the space to interject, to add anything. When he said nothing, she forged ahead. “In addition to the mission given by the Council of Serens, I am also here to announce the transition of command from ShipLord Till to myself.” She let her breath out. “I will be taking command of Serens’ Reach for this mission and the foreseeable future beyond.”
There was another cough, followed by silence.
Beside her, ShipLord Till said, “Transition of command.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment. “Well. I have to tell you, Captain Karak, this wasn’t unexpected.” He took a step back, leaning on an elbow on a nearby console. “But I’ve been around for a while. Maybe a little while longer than you have.”
Someone snorted. Asarik didn’t allow herself to take her eyes off Till. The beginning of a bead of sweat was forming at her temple, tickling. Her scalp was hot.
“And I always like to make sure I understand exactly where my orders come from.” He swept a hand at the crew. “I can’t command if I don’t know why an order was given.” He touched his chest. “If I understand an order, I’ll be the first to follow it all the way to the end, Captain Karak. I’ll follow it as far as is necessary. Just like your mother did at Calayis Gate. And no one will speak against any action she took, because she was justified. Justified. Though she took her crew of two hundred with her into the fire.”
Till’s words seemed to reach her from the end of a tunnel. Asarik did her best to ignore the sweat in her hairline now.
She would have to ignore the jab about her mother. She would have to put her emotions aside, focus on the mission she had been given. Soon all this would be over, and she would be the one in front of the crew leading them forward. Till was going to hang on until his fingers bled. She understood that. She could even respect the desire to do so. It was her job to help him let go.
“ShipLord Till,” she said. “You have served faithfully and with great successes. The council strongly recognizes your sacrifices for the people of Serens System.”
“The council?” Till snapped, finally showing emotion. “You mean your father, Lord Karak?”
Asarik wanted to smile but held it back. Here it was.
“My father serves the Council of Serens. This is true.”
“True?” the ShipLord spat. His face was red. He straightened. “What gives him the right hand off my ship to some unqualified daughter, barely out of the academy, fresh from chasing smugglers and herding refuges? What makes you think I’ll step aside and do his bidding, Captain Karak?”
“I am not here to convince you,” Asarik answered. “I am here to deliver your orders. Will you obey?”
The room around them was silent. She could hear the environmental controls breathing from hidden vents.
“If you were worth a damn,” Till said. “You would challenge me and earn your command. You would follow the path of Serensian honor that your generation has forgotten.” He leaned forward, glaring at her. “What do you say, Captain Karak? Can you earn your command in front of the ship and its crew?”
Asarik wanted to shout at him in disgust. This show did nothing but feed his ego. She didn’t need to fight him. She had been given command authority by the council. She had issued the Council’s orders. He was in defiance now. How long should she let this go on?
He was an old man who had served Serens for nearly fifty years. He couldn’t hope to win against her in single combat. She supposed that humoring him might appeal to the crew, help their opinion of her while she was currently an unknown quantity. She wished he hadn’t mentioned her father with such vehemence.
“Fine,” she said. “ShipLord Till, I challenge you for command of Serens’ Reach. As you wish it, I comply. Single combat to submission.”
“To death,” he pressed.
She nearly shook her head in exasperation. His suggestion was practically illegal, upheld only by mutual agreement between combatants. She also knew every eye in the room and probably several cameras broadcasting to the rest of the ship were on her right now. If she couldn’t demonstrate competence from the beginning, she would never lead them through the trials to come.
“Yes,” she said. “I agree.”
#
In a small chamber off the main cargo hold, Asarik sat on the smooth floor with her legs crossed, hands folded against her abdomen, preparing her thoughts. As a kind of mantra, she ran the names of the five GalaxyGates through her mind over and over again. Her mission. Her people’s purpose.
Kinsla, Bitralis, Halith, Llinit and Yulan Sit.
The five dormant gates within reach of Serens System. It amazed her that once humanity had built such things. Asarik opened her eyes and looked at her hands, flexing her fingers, considering how hands like hers had manipulated the substance of the Galaxy, only to fall back into the petty wars and selfish pursuits that plagued the Known Worlds. Hands that still fought duels. She shook the thoughts away. She was Serensian. Violence was one of her many tools. She would defeat Till with her hands.
The door slid open and she looked up to find the ShipLord standing in the doorway. He stepped inside quickly and let the door close behind him. He was wearing a plain blood-red uniform and work boots.
“Asarik,” he said before she could say anything, holding up a hand. “I understand why you are here, and I understand my time has come to an end with Serens’ Reach. I simply...” He stopped himself. There was sadness in his eyes when he looked down at her. “I spoke poorly of your mother. She was an excellent officer and honorable whenever I spoke with her or observed her on duty. In fact, I have never heard anyone say an ill word of your mother. I am not pleased to be the first. I spoke out of emotion.” He met her eyes again. “I ask that you forgive me.”
Uncomfortable with him standing over her, even with a contrite look on his face, Asarik stood and smoothed down her uniform pants. “I believe I understand,” she said.
Till’s eyes flared. “Do you?”
Asarik stiffened. She raised her hands slightly, unsure what he was going to do.
The ShipLord didn’t appear to notice her guarded stance. “What do you understand?” he demanded. He looked past her. “For twenty years, I was ShipLord of the Destiny’s Fist, the finest CombatShip in the fleet. I directed the Serensian flame against our enemies. The Garans never dared to mock us so openly in the Authority’s Council as they do now. I served faithfully and with honor, and when I was given this leaking sow of a science ship, I made it something to admire. Why do you think we even know of the existence of these dead gates you’ve been tasked to probe?” Till jabbed at his chest. “My sweat and suffering.”
Asarik kept her face impassive, gauging his anger. She heard the desperation behind his words. He clenched his bony fists in front of him, knuckles swollen, as if he couldn’t hold anything tight enough.
Till ran himself out of words, his eyes ticking up and down her face as if he had forgotten who she was. He blinked, gaze growing slightly dull again. “I came here to apologize,” he said finally. “Not to rail against fate.”
He straightened, clearing his throat. “We will duel,” he said. “Hand-to-hand. No combat authority. No combat interfaces. With honor. I will lose to you, Captain Asarik Karak, and you will take my life. I command you as your ShipLord.”
Asarik stared at him.
“You will do this for me,” he continued. “You...” He raised a hand and let it fall as if uncertain how to speak. “You are at the beginning of your career. I see it in you.” His face creased in a hard smile. “Don’t think I don’t see what you are, where you came from. Your task will be control of the path in front of you. Will you become your mother or your father? Or something all your own? Each path will limit your later choices, until you finally find yourself where I stand now, when you have only one choice to make, one way to control your future.”
Till stared down at her, a hint of wetness in his gray eyes. “Do me this honor,” he said. Somehow the words balanced evenly between command and request, speaking from one ShipLord to another.
Asarik’s mind reeled, imagining herself looking through the doors he described, the distance between her mother and father. She couldn’t shut out what he had said about her mother burning her crew. Asarik knew every detail of that battle. She knew her mother had made the best decisions she could in order to achieve as much of her mission as possible. She had died honorably. She had died...
Nothing changed that she had died, that one half of Asarik was gone, leaving only her distant father. She hadn’t questioned her orders or the path laid out before her with command of Serens’ Reach.
The thought flicked through her mind that Till was trying to deceive her. He wanted her to give up the command. He wanted her to question her future and go back to her father.
Till didn’t know her.
“I will do as you ask,” Asarik said.
#
It looked as if most of the crew was gathered in the low-ceilinged cargo hold when Asarik left the chamber. Talking and laughing stopped, leaving only the sounds of feet scraping on the floor and people shifting where they sat on piles of cargo. Heads turned to watch her cross between the stacked alloy crates. A circle of cord had been laid on the smooth floor about five meters across. Till stood just outside the circle on the far side.
Crew members moved out of her way to allow space for her to stand opposite Till. She stood with her toes pointed at the cord and took a ready stance.
“ShipLord Till,” she called. Everyone in the room froze, her voice echoing off the metal walls. “I am Captain Asarik Leah Karak, formerly of Victory’s Ardor. I arrive at the order of the Council of Serens to assume command of InquiryShip Serens’ Reach.” Her voice sounded thin to her ears. She wished she could start the speech over again but took a breath and pushed on. “By custom and right, you may challenge my orders in service of your crew who deserve only the best leadership Serens can offer. What say you?”
Till raised his chin, his gray eyes fixed on her. His voice was rich and deep as he answered, “I challenge your claim and step into the circle.”
“Until one of us leaves, then,” Asarik said.
“Until one of us leaves.”
Asarik stepped over the cord. The room was immediately electrified, people leaning forward all around them. No doubt bets were changing hands.
Till took a deep breath and raised his hands in a ready stance.
When he didn’t attack immediately, Asarik took the three steps to close the space between them. Her mind immediately fell back to the repetition of academy drills, attention focused on Till’s stance, the angle of his arms, where he directed his gaze. She had fought against the hand-to-hand styles from when Till had graduated the academy. She would need to assess what he had learned since then. She would need to determine just how much speed and strength he could still bring against her.
Before she could strike him, Till straightened his right arm, clenching a fist, and announced in a clear voice, “Combat authority granted.”
The space in front of his fist warped as if the air were boiling. The force from his combat interface hit her chest like a sledgehammer. Asarik struck the floor gasping, white lights bursting in her eyes.
Somewhere people were shouting and stomping their boots on crates but it all sounded muffled. She blinked as the recognition of her own activated combat interface flooded through her. Energy ran like tiny electric pins from her palm to elbow. The floor felt more solid as she became aware of nearby mass and its subtle effects on the ship’s interior gravity.
Above her, Till was yelling with his fist in the air, face contorted in rage and exertion.
Asarik rolled away from his attack. His fist dented the floor where it came down. She pushed herself to her feet and crouched low, focusing on Till as he stumbled away from his overpowered swing.
The combat interface felt like a cable running from her elbow through her fist, whipping the space between her knuckles and the center of the circle. She struggled to recognize the new information flooding her body, the tiny variations in mass all around her.
As Till fought to get control of himself, she closed the space again and hit him with a straight kick. Her boot caught him in the abdomen and he doubled. He brought his arm up in time to block her fist. Force bounced off force, throwing her swing wide.
Asarik spun away. The shouts around them had gone quiet. She noted murmurs. She couldn’t tell if the watching faces wanted her to lose or if they hated Till. Did they care that he had lied? They wouldn’t know, of course. The combatants could set whatever rules they chose. The old man knew he couldn’t beat her one-on-one, so of course he would seek an advantage. Which meant his lies went even deeper. He meant to kill her.
As the shock of his surprise attack faded, she grew more calm. She watched him move and shifted to a mindless flow, anticipating his motions and planning her own. With every change in Till, she calculated a new set of steps. She watched his hands, feet, studied the dogged intensity in his eyes.
Asarik charged forward. She feinted with another kick, forcing him to slide to her left. He tried to catch her leg but she quickly hit him with a series of small bursts of force, aiming for nerves. One of her attacks caught a pressure point mid bicep and his arm went limp.
Till crouched, protecting the arm. A wavering line filled the air in front of his interface fist as he activated a resonance blade and swung wildly. The sliver of micro-gravity gouged the floor as his fist fell too low.
Till was already breathing heavily. He tried to shake out the numbed arm as he jabbed at her with the meter-long blade. She felt the tickle of weakness in the bottom of her stomach as her interface sucked hungrily at her strength and thought she saw the same effect happening in Till. The longer he held the resonance blade to keep her away, the weaker he would become. She feinted and slid several times, using small jabs of force to keep him busy.
Growling, Till whipped his arm from the shoulder and surprised her with a wave of force that caught the side of her face. Asarik spun away, fire running from her cheek to her temple.
Catching herself at the edge of the circle, she blinked frantically. Her right eye filled with blood and tears but she couldn’t pause to wipe it away. Through the haze of pain, she saw Till’s knife-thin form rushing at her.
Asarik dropped her shoulder and rolled to her left side where she could still see. She came up to her knees with her fist raised in a straight-armed resonance blade, just as Till tried to shift his momentum and grapple her. He sank on the invisible blade until Asarik’s knuckles hit his sternum.
Till’s eyes went wide as he exhaled a hot, surprised breath on her burning cheek. His gaze met hers. His gray eyes shifted imperceptibly from anger to questioning, and then terror.
Asarik released a yell of frustration and rage. She drew her fist back slightly and pushed him off her. The blade ripped sideways, sending a spray of blood arcing away from Till’s body. She stumbled to her feet as he fell back, landing on his unwounded side.
Breathing heavily, Asarik stood with her shoulders bent. She wiped her right eye, hand coming away covered in blood.
“Please,” Till moaned.
Asarik lifted her head, looking among the faces of the watching crew. Their expressions had grown hard. They were Serensians, after all. They expected her to obey the law of the circle.
She squared herself on Till’s gasping form. His red uniform was darker along his exposed side, soaking up blood. He looked at her for a second, gray eyes dull again, then let his head fall back so he stared at the ceiling.
Asarik formed a resonance blade. Till’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed one last time. He gazed sadly, almost questioningly, at something in the ceiling, before she swept her arm up and sliced his head from his body.
Asarik released a long breath. She dismissed the resonance blade and opened her stiff hands.
Behind her, someone shouted, “Shiplord Karak!”
All around her, the crew saluted and took up the shout. Asarik wiped her bloody face again and returned the salute.
#
Asarik’s new authority as ShipLord allowed her access to Till’s quarters. She stood in the doorway and took in the carefully arranged furniture, a rug of Serensian grass and a few images on the walls that appeared to span his travels among the Known Worlds. Asarik stepped inside and let the door slide closed behind her.
Sitting on top of an ornate chest of drawers near the bed was a small carved box and a framed image Asarik immediately recognized as her mother. She went to the chest and picked up the image. It wasn’t anything she had seen before. Ahsal had been forty when Asarik was born, so images of her as a young woman were like an unknown country. In the image, her mother looked younger than Asarik was now, gazing with amused intensity at the person capturing the moment. She was wearing a cadet’s uniform.
Asarik set the frame back in its place and touched the wooden chest. Its lid was plain. The latch didn’t appear to hide any unique locking mechanism and gave easily under her thumb. A spiced scent rose with the lid, revealing a stack of paper pages. She selected the first piece of yellowed paper and carried it closer to one of the wall lights. The page bore the creases of many foldings, and was covered in handwritten script that she realized was her mother’s. The letter was addressed to Till.
Asarik carried the chest to the bed and sat reading through the letters, which told the story of a short love affair from her last year in the academy, when she and Till were close enough to pass each other letters written on paper. Ahsal’s dreams and relentless drive shone through her words. It wasn’t any surprise to Asarik when the final letter was a farewell and good luck to Till. She touched several of the words with her finger, where it looked as if the ink had smeared under drops from something wet. She had a hard time imagining Till, the Hawk of Destiny’s Fist, shedding tears over anything.
She wondered if her father had known. Before she even finished the thought, she knew he had. Was that the reason for his extra worry? She thought of Till’s face as he let his head fall back on the cargo hold floor.
Two thoughts moved through her mind: anger at Till for what he had driven her to do, followed by a small bittersweet feeling for the letters and the young woman her mother had been. She hoped Till imagined her as her mother, Ahsal, as she made the killing strike.
Asarik arranged the stack of letters and closed the chest until its latch clicked. She rose to replace the box where Till had left it on the chest of drawers. Glancing at herself in the wall mirror, she reached in her pocket for the ShipLord’s rank her father had given her. She fixed the silver insignia on her collar, then briefly polished it with her sleeve. The sight of the rank made her miss her mother more than she had in the last year. She wished Ahsal was here to see her, to tell her the story in the letters from the perspective of her long life, to offer advice on the trials to come.
But that wasn’t to be. She had come this far alone; she would go farther. Looking at herself wearing the rank, her sadness shifted into excitement, which she thought was what her mother would have wanted.
Asarik stood in front of the mirror with her shoulders squared, the image of her mother gazing up at her from beneath her reflection. She allowed herself a smile, then turned to leave the room and brief her new crew.
Kinsla Gate awaited them.
-o-
James S. Aaron is an Army veteran with a background in journalism. Life has led him on a weird path through mental health nursing, airspace control, security management and lately chicken wrangling. He lives in Oregon. Things he loves: Corgis, animal rescue, and Science Fiction and Fantasy from the 70s and 80s.
Homepage: http://jamesaaron.net
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