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hard, and hailed them.

Dunkat waited patiently, letting each of his muscles relax in preparation for action. He had no intention of leaving without his prize, no matter the cost.

i

“This is government inspection team 542, please open your docking bay,” the comm unit hummed.

“This contract is starting to be more trouble than it’s worth,” Cailan said, leaning into his seat.

He pushed two entry numbers on his side-arm panel. “Avienne, Ardin, take care of them and show them what they need to see to get them out of our hair, without hassle.”

A second passed and Avienne’s voice came over the speaker. “I’ll head there now,” her voice was crisp and clear like a fresh winter morning, even with the static. “Ardin’s on his way to the bridge with a guest who insists on seeing you.”

The line went dead and Travan looked at Cailan with what the captain now knew was the engineer’s sceptical look, although anyone else would simply see a blank expression.

“This mission just keeps on getting more interesting,” the engineer offered and Cailan allowed himself a chuckle. Travan was not known for his sense of humour, but Cailan knew the old engineer had more of one than most people. He just chose not to display it.

“Captain,” Ardin said as he stepped on the bridge, but Cailan’s eyes were drawn immediately to the tall man behind him. He was dark, older, and something dangerous sparked in his eyes. Cailan would still have recognized him, had he a hundred more years and a thousand more scars on him.

The old engineer hissed, and Cailan knew he, too, had recognized the newcomer. Ardin looked from one to the other in surprise. He was too young to remember the man who stood behind him, but swift enough to realize he might be dangerous. Ardin stepped to the side.

Cailan stood slowly. Had he been a superstitious man who believed ghosts could return from the dead, he would have played out this scenario a hundred times in his head and been ready for its eventuality. But, he had not believed in ghosts.

“Captain Cailan,” the tall man said, bowing his head slightly with respect. Cailan nodded in return, choosing not to salute. It had been too long since he had been required to do so, and he found himself too rusty to lift his hand to anyone in that manner.

“My condolences for Captain Malavant,” the man continued, nodding to Ardin. The young man’s eyes widened with shock.

“He’d have been happy to see you, Captain Mistolta,” Cailan said. “He never did fully understand the little…mix up.”

Zortan nodded, offering no explanation.

The decisions Cailan had made in his youth, decisions for which he hoped time had forgiven him, kept creeping up on him in his old age. He sighed; he wanted little more than a peaceful existence. Cailan looked toward Ardin, his dead friend’s son, and felt as if the chasm that had always been widening under his feet would swallow all of Destiny. He wondered what Layela Delamores looked like. He pictured her like her mother.

He focused on Zortan again. “Captain Malavant believed in you to the end, even if it cost him his life.” Captain Mistolta returned his gaze. His eyes were black coals that ignited the old fires within Cailan.

“What?” Ardin asked, looking to Cailan. The old captain wished the youth wasn’t here. Ardin wasn’t aware that his father had died in the line of duty, or even that he had had a duty. For all Ardin knew, they had always been smugglers, and the ship had always been so worn. He noticed Travan had moved closer to Zortan, a fact he was certain had not escaped the captain of the Royal Guards.

He wanted to throw Zortan in prison. The orders to do so, issued twenty years ago, remained fresh in his mind. Those orders had cost them all so much. But time had passed, and the need to know what secrets Zortan held outweighed the old orders. Cailan’s loyalty to Radin Malavant was still strong, reinforced every day by the strength of his greatest legacy: Avienne and Ardin.

Cailan knew why Zortan had chosen the Destiny for this mission and why he chose to be here now. He didn’t understand his sense of timing but, then again, Cailan was old enough to realize that many of the greatest questions of his life would go unanswered. In the meantime, he knew what needed to be done.

“To Mirial?” Cailan asked Zortan, with the informality of a question between friends. The captain looked deep into Cailan’s eyes, but Cailan did not flinch. Destiny was Cailan’s legacy and he had no intention of letting her go. Not without a fight.

He knew very little of Zortan, only that Radin and he had been like family once. That would have to do.

“Yes, but first we have to pick up someone else,” Zortan replied politely.

“Oh?” Cailan asked. At this point, he was sure, nothing else could surprise him.

“Yoma, Layela Delamores’ twin.”

Cailan was wrong; he was surprised.

Travan chuckled and Cailan wondered what was going through the old engineer’s mind. Maybe it was just joy of knowing that, after almost twenty years of exile, they were finally headed home.

CHAPTER 18

Josmere’s eyes shone in the half-light, the Berganda slowly uncovering her hands as she looked intently at Layela. The flower girl saw the flutter of unspoken words in those eyes, a jumbled mixture of apology and question. But Josmere voiced nothing, and Layela did not inquire.

Determination glowed in Josmere’s deep eyes and in her every graceful movement, the same determination that always empowered the Berganda before a dangerous caper. Layela was the one to break the silence.

“What changed your mind?” her whisper fell into the whirlpools of Josmere’s eyes, their depth amplified by the lack of the characteristic shrug.

“I guess being home confirmed one thing,” her own voice was also a whisper, soothing Layela’s nervous senses. “You and Yoma are the only family I have left. And I don’t intend to lose either one of you.”

“I’m sorry

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