The majority of the vessel was taken up by its cargo space. The area had adjustable walls and floor panels, which were currently set for human habitation. What they were left with was three separate rooms with no doors, inflatable bunks, and a small bathroom cubby. Tyroya herself was separated from them by a hallway that doubled as the engine room, and she was the only other person on board.

Saketa didn’t much care for the absence of a dedicated engineer, though supposedly with a new ship, regular upkeep and short trips it was relatively safe. She’s heard plenty of spacers compare it to the absence of a safety harness while space walking: Not a guarantee for disaster, but a bad idea nonetheless.

“So… is it safe to talk here?” Ayna asked cautiously, from her spot on one of the bunks.

“From what I can tell,” Fredrak replied, and took his goggles off. “I suppose this vessel often flies people that appreciate their privacy.”

“And is it safe in general, here?”

“Vanaka has a way with people,” Saketa told her.

“She sure seems to,” the Dwyyk replied.

Saketa looked in the direction of the cockpit, though it was blocked from view. Vanaka was spending some time with the smuggler up front. Perhaps she was asking questions, or just feeling out the strength of her hold over the woman.

“I just… well, I would say that I’ll feel better once we land…” Ayna went on.

She looked at the weapons Losan was taking out of a travelling case.

“...but that would be a lie,” the girl added.

“It is too late to turn back,” Saketa told her.

“I know, I know.”

Losan had something that seemed to straddle the line between small carbine and large pistol, and now attached a shoulder stock to it. He also had a typical pistol, a combat knife, a sword, and his twin sticks, stunner, and Vanaka’s foldable stick.

“I have armour lining in my clothes,” the bodyguard said and tugged on his jacket. “And Vanaka owns an armoured outfit.”

He patted the case.

“What about you two?” he said to Ayna and Fredrak. “Do you have any proper equipment?”

“Just what you’ve seen so far,” Fredrak replied.

“I’m more a hider than a fighter,” Ayna told him. “But… I do own a little shooter. For self-defence.”

The Dwyyk went through her luggage, and from a lockbox she produced the weapon Saketa remembered from Gorono. It was indeed not a war weapon, and she doubted it would be much use against military armour.

“I’ve never wanted to kill anyone,” Ayna went on, and her cheerful front faded away. “And I still don’t.”

“It’s not about wanting,” Losan said. “When was the last time you went over it? Properly, I mean?”

“I… suspect your definition of proper is… ah, let’s just say ‘never’.”

“You don’t want it failing on you,” the man said.

He picked up his own pistol.

“Let me show you.”

Saketa seized upon an opportunity and captured Fredrak’s gaze while the other two were distracted. The man caught that she wanted something and discreetly followed her out of the room and to the opposite side of the cargo area.

“I want to bring up what you said about interpersonal relationships in your line of work,” she said.

“Yes?”

“In the name of that, and the fact that we are going to finish this whole matter together, I have a simple thing to ask: Do not look into Vanaka’s affairs. Do not inquire, do not wonder, and do not try to recruit her.”

He didn’t speak, nor did his face immediately betray anything. She continued.

“Considering your recruitment of Ayna I am as certain as I can be that you have at least considered it, and filed the possibility away in the back of your mind.”

“An open and flexible mind is a great asset to an agent,” Fredrak said neutrally.

“Good. Then it can flex away from that notion,” she said. “And do not take all this as an invitation to get curious. It will do no good to anyone. Consider leaving it alone to be repayment for me resolving your mission.”

“Well, doing nothing at all is the easiest compensation imaginable,” the agent said. “The girl has been helpful and useful. She can keep her secrets.”

“And no mention of her in any reports.”

The man smiled, and for once it looked entirely genuine.

“People like me report results, not methods.”

Saketa nodded.

“Then that is settled. We-”

“The engine looks good,” Tyroya said over an intercom. “I will need to switch lanes five more times before reaching system. We’ll emerge with a very hot engine, but we’ll make it. If there are no complications we should have forty-one hours to go.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Forty-one,” Saketa repeated. “And forty-six hours remain of your prediction. How thought-out was it?”

“If I had believed it was forty-nine or fifty-one hours, I would have said so,” the agent told her. “Fifty was the best estimate I could make, given the fleet’s makeup, route, and departure time. But it is still a guess. One that assumes average conditions.”

For a moment she was back to that arrival into Kalero’s system, when the planet had already been orbited by a bombardment fleet for quite some time. Except the option here was the alternative; a devastated fleet and a nigh-untouched planet.

“We will simply have to hope, then,” she said. “And, p…”

“What?” he asked as she trailed off.

“And…” she repeated, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Perhaps hope that belief in a higher influence isn’t entirely misplaced.”

# # #

The ship drifted in realspace, from one lane towards the opening to another, and Saketa meditated.

It came easier than before. The sword in her lap helped, but the real difference was within. There still wasn’t balance. The darkness still weighed her down. But the scales weren’t as uneven as they had been. She examined failures, sorrows, disappointments and anger, all of which still hurt and the sound of that snapping blade still echoed through her. But she could nevertheless examine them without losing clarity. And with that, she could examine the rest of herself.

The darkness was there, and it always would be. But there was the other side of things as well.

She eased out of it, stood up, and stretched. Then she turned around to find Vanaka waiting at the edge of the room.

“Hello,” she said to the girl.

“Hey. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Vanaka turned away and idly scratched at a wall with a fingernail before continuing.

“How are you?”

“Better than I was. More… prepared, for this fight, than I was at those ruins. I see...”

“What?” Vanaka asked when Saketa hesitated.

She managed to smile at her own foolishness, and sighed.

“I see now the trap I built for myself. The expectations. The standards I held myself to. I have always just wanted to do my best and be worthy of the title of Warden, but… oh, pride is such a subtle enemy.”

“I’m not old enough to be wise,” Vanaka said. “But that sounds right.”

“It takes a certain wisdom to acknowledge that one is a fool,” Saketa told her. “It leaves one open for learning.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“There will always be things we cannot accomplish. Hurdles we cannot overcome by ourselves, no matter our abilities. That is no excuse for not doing our best, but even our best still leaves tragedy and suffering in the galaxy.”

“I can’t tell if that is… uplifting or depressing,” Vanaka said with an awkward smile.

“It is reality,” Saketa said.

“Yes. Sure. But… uh, this kind of fell through the cracks at the time, but… did I hear you right, when we lay together? Did you really kill Volkan Vol himself?”

“I did,” Saketa said.

Her hand went to the sword. Her other hand waved for Vanaka to come closer, for a more private conversation.

“It was during the siege, that famous siege around his stronghold,” she said. “I Shifted inside of it and managed to sneak around without setting off an alarm. I saw the tyrant from behind, as he rambled about his plans for conquest even as the bombardment went on ceaselessly.”

She drew the blade, somewhat lost in memory, and held it at the ready as she had back then.

“My shadow was there, demanding that I call out to him, make him see his death coming. That part of me wanted more than just his life; it wanted him to pay for all the suffering his war had caused. But no. A Warden must kill to defend. Not out of anger or vengeance. So I simply walked up behind him and struck.”

She did a slow-moving version of the blow she’d used.

“His head hit the floor. I had hoped the fighting would end with that punctuation mark, but his officers kept it up for eight more hours before either surrendering or scattering to the lanes.”

“You did what you could,” Vanaka said.

“Yes, I know. But as we have established, pride is a subtle killer. And I am a bit of a fool. I was so disappointed. That, and the war itself, left me vulnerable. I left it unhealed before heading home, straight into the invasion.”

The pain of the memories hit, but she faced the storm in silence for a few seconds.

“I learned to hate them that day,” she said softly as her eyes unfocused. “The Exiles are ancestral enemies of mine, but that day I learned hate. And I have carried it with me ever since.”

“That is only natural, really,” Vanaka said carefully. “After seeing your world attacked.”

“No.”

Saketa shook her head.

“Anger is natural. And it serves a purpose, if managed carefully. Hate is poison. It is a corruption that eats away at the spirit. And I have let it fester in me for too long. It has blinded me, driven me to rage, to foolishness, and even made me cruel.”

She touched Nara’s sword again, taking comfort from it.

“I will kill Avanon, because it has to happen for the good of mankind. But I will do my best to do it with an even spirit. I will kill him out of duty, not vengeance. As I did with Volkan Vol.”

Vanaka nodded, though Saketa could tell the girl didn’t have anything to add to that.

“Why don’t people know who killed Volkan Vol?” the Vylak asked after a few seconds. “You ought to be a celebrity.”

“I did not feel like bragging at the time, surrounded by all that devastation. And it makes no difference to me if people know it or not. Wardens do not fight for their own glory.”

“The Vylak will know,” Vanaka said.

Then she laughed, with an air of disbelief.

“I am not laughing at you,” she clarified. “Just… at this entire situation I find myself in. I am going to have such stories to tell.”

“That is one good thing to come out of this, at least,” Saketa said.

“Two,” Vanaka said with a slightly naughty smile, and touched the tip of one withdrawn fang with her tongue.

Saketa felt another phantom tingle in her bite spot, and an impulse to walk into the girl’s embrace. She fought it for a moment, then asked herself what the point was, and just went ahead.

She did suppress the urge to melt up against Vanaka as the girl happily hugged her back, and was reminded of something.

“It is like I told you those years ago, before I went for Tomos Tel Usta,” she said. “Be careful what you say to me once we’re planetside.”

She kept her voice low and their conversation private.

“This insidious venom of yours must not affect my decision-making once we are in danger.”

“I-I know,” Vanaka said. “I have matured. I let Losan handle security decisions. Usually. I think I’ve learned how to not exert too much influence.”

How to hold the leash, Saketa thought.

“I think-”

“Are you girls doing something private, or can I join you?” Ayna asked from just around the corner.

Saketa cursed herself for forgetting they were sharing space with a Dwyyk, and judging by her grimace Vanaka did as well.

“You can join,” Saketa said as she separated from Vanaka.

“There are two ways I could take that…” the Dwyyk said, and came around the corner. “Ahem, look. Twenty-nine hours to go. Supposedly about thirty-four hours until the fleet reaches the system. Shouldn’t we talk plans? Is there a plan?”