Chapter 15
SANTIAGO
In the hush of his office, Santi stood at the expansive plexiglass window, arms folded, eyes on the galaxy blur past in a silver-ribboned hush.
Most times, Santi’s role focused on crew management, overseeing the hull retrofits, the electromagnetic pulse shielding, the pressure modulation scans, and even the coolant rationing disputes on his ship.
With Xander enjoying a month-long honeymoon, he now also had diplomacy duties, intra-vessel hand-holding, and hunting down The Red Skulls on his cards.
While dealing with the Alliance, the Accord, and every entitled, wealthy kinai on the flotilla demanding his undivided attention because they paid a premium for the long voyage.
Fokk.
Santi missed his hermano more than he cared to admit.
All the soft skills responsibility Santi now had to deal with were freakin’ weighing him down.
He might’ve given in to the strain had it not been for the night before.
The memory of Soleil, her sighs, her mouth, her surrender, lit up his face.
She’d taken him apart and restored him all in one extended session of glorious lovemaking.
She made the burden of duty seem, somehow, bearable.
He turned from the window, a rare smile still playing on his lips, just as Miral shimmered in beside his desk.
‘Fokk, Miral,’ he snapped, scrubbing a hand down his face. ‘How about announcing yourself sometime?’
‘And miss the lovesick expression you get when you think about her?’ she quipped, eyes twinkling.
He scowled, unamused.
‘How is Soleil?’ Miral asked with a simper.
‘She’s fine. Rested. Glowing.’
‘Hmm. I’m glad you’re in a good mood, you’ll need all your endorphins for what I’m about to share.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘The fokk?’
‘I’ve got something you need to see.’
Her tone shifted, all lightness gone.
She stepped closer and flicked her fingers, a holo flaring to life above his desk.
‘We’ve been cross-checking every itinerant worker in the flotilla, spacers, haulers, FIFO crews, everyone who’s docked or transferred between ships in the last cycle.
I conducted a thorough review of all communication logs, security footage, procurement manifests, and credential databases. This came up.’
She swiped a holo file toward him.
Santi opened it with a swipe of his hand, and his eyes skimmed the contents.
At first, he didn’t react. Then his brow furrowed and darkened.
His heart slammed into his chest wall, and his throat worked once before he snapped his gaze to her.
‘The fokk is this? Is it even real?’
Miral shrugged, lips pressed in a line. ‘It’s authentic, alright.’
‘You sure?’
‘Triple verified. Biometrics, including retinal match and voice print, confirmed. It’s not a mimic. It’s her.’
His jaw ticked. Heat flooded his limbs. ‘Hell.’
He thought for a long moment, his eyes out to the view of space rushing past. ‘Send a priority comm,’ he ground out. ‘I want her in my office. Now. Still, be gentle about how you summon her, naam?’
‘Already on it,’ Miral replied, vanishing a second later.
SOLEIL
The scent of sterilizing spray and pine-foam lather clung to Soleil’s fingers as she rinsed out the last of the stall sinks.
Her roster today was in the public bathhouse near the lake shore on Deck 27.
She liked days like these, where a quiet mist rose from the water outside, and sunlight flickered off the waves.
She wiped her brow with the back of her glove when her comm tab vibrated against her wrist.
She blinked at the display.
Miral: Priority request. For a face-to-face meeting at the Executive Level. Immediately please.
A second later, a sleek pass download lit up her screen.
The digital crest of the XO shimmered across her screen.
Her breath hitched.
Summoned in an official capacity to Santi’s office?
Fokk. Had she been rumbled?
Her stomach flipped, hard as a slow, insidious crawl of heat blooming along her wrists.
The phantom ache that accompanied her mortification at her enforced secrecy surged into a ball of bitterness in her throat.
She bit down hard on her inner cheek, recalling her mounting sins.
Earlier that morning, she arrived at the maintenance offices early, before Wren did.
After making sure the coast was clear, she’d slid behind his console.
Her fingers had even trembled as she pulled up his logs.
Just the prison codes and schematics, she’d told herself. I have no choice.
She hated herself for her rationalization.
Still, a woman’s life, not her own, depended on it.
All she got were maps to the chutes that led close to the prison’s Cold Sector facility.
She downloaded the files into her commtab and sent them as demanded to an anonymous link off the ship.
Now, the disgrace of her actions burned, shame dousing her soul.
Now, her subterfuge hit harder.
Especially after last night.
When Santi held her, kissed her, and treated her like a precious treasure.
The thought got her stomach churning.
She shut her eyes, exhaled, and muttered, ‘No more self-indulgence.’
No more running either. She’d have to face what came. She had no choice.
She peeled off her gloves, stuffed them into her utility belt, straightened her coveralls as best she could, and made her way to the elevator bay.
A passing hauler gave her a nod and a wink; she scarcely noticed.
At the lifts, she hesitated, pulse hammering, before holding her wrist to the access panel.
The moment her XO pass registered, the interface shimmered green, and a gentle tone rang out.
The lift slid open with a whoosh.
She stepped inside and hit the button for the Executive Deck.
The ascent was swift and silent.
The elevator stopped at various floors as crew members entered and exited.
Most shot her curious glances, wondering what a maintenance peon was doing heading up to the top floor.
By the time the lift reached the summit and the doors opened, Soleil’s palms were slick with sweat, and her jumpsuit was clinging beneath her arms and chest.
Her heart jumped at the sight of Miral waiting outside the doors in her usual shimmering holographic projection.
Today, she was clad in a crisp sleeveless blazer over a collared shirt and slacks, her hair pinned into an elegant twist.
‘Sante for coming on such short notice, Soleil,’ she intoned.
Soleil’s breath hitched in her throat, and she covered it up with a slight cough. ‘Why am I here?’
‘Santi will explain soon enough.’ Miral offered a smile. ‘We’re going to see him now.’
Her heart thudded. ‘We are?’
Miral nodded but didn’t elaborate.
Instead, she gestured toward the long corridor leading away from the lifts. ‘But first, you must tell me, how’s the weather holding up on Deck 27? I do miss the lake.’
Thrown by the sudden shift, Soleil fell in step beside her, trying not to brush up against the ghostly projection. ‘Warm today. Muggy.’
She tugged her collar. ‘Feels like a storm wants to roll through, but it’s lazy.’
‘I love a squall,’ Miral replied with a hint of amusement. ‘We designed that biome to mimic Earth’s seasons, from summer to freezing winter, tempests and all.’
They walked through corridors that felt like another world, with polished light-wood floors beneath their feet and softly angled walls of glass and steel.
Translucent art panels displayed scenes from planets long gone, glowing from within. The office ceilings soared above, trailing clusters of pendant lights that glimmered like tiny galaxies.
Even the silence here seemed curated, layered with mellow chimes and filtered air fragrant with mint and sky berries.
It made Soleil aware of the dust in her cuffs, the sweat under her arms, the slight damp at her neckline.
She pushed her bangs from her forehead, resisting the urge to wipe her armpits when Miral wasn’t looking.
Despite her mounting dread, their small talk continued.
She told Miral about a stunning bird she spotted that morning, with bright, blue plumage and a curved beak, and how it’d danced in the sand.
Miral responded with interest, her dulcet tones calming, never missing a beat.
Still, Soleil’s pulse didn’t slow. Not once.
Because beneath the civility, she sensed the inevitability of her demise like the tempo of a war drum against her conscience.
Her reckoning was coming, and she didn’t know whether to brace or run.
The moment Soleil stepped into Santi’s office, the air shifted.
He was leaning against the edge of his vast desk, one hip on its polished steel surface, the other boot planted on the floor.
Arms folded over his broad chest, the tight, obsidian uniform clung to his body like a second skin, emphasizing every contour.
So sexy, strong, and potent as fokk.
Her heart lurched, first in fear, then in confusion, because when she looked into his eyes, she didn’t find fury or betrayal.
She found softness.
‘Door shut, please, privacy shield,’ he rasped, his voice lower than usual.
Behind her, the heavy doors slid closed with a hiss.
A veil of iridescent light dropped in front of them, sealing the room in a dome of prismatic shimmer.
The world outside faded into a blur of colors, distorted shapes, and muffled sound. It was like being enclosed inside a soap bubble at the moment before it popped, beautiful, tense, fragile.
Santi extended a hand, motioning her toward him.
Her limbs seemed carved from stone as she moved stiffly into his orbit.
When he wrapped his arms around her and bent to press his lips to her forehead, it was gentle.
However, it didn’t undo the tight coil of dread in her chest.
‘What’s this about?’ she whispered, scarcely able to breathe.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Miral. ‘Show her what you shared with me.’
Miral’s projection shimmered beside them. A soft pulse of light illuminated the space between them as a holographic file opened. A face filled the display.
Soleil went cold.
Her own face stared back at her, ten years younger, thinner, with lengthier hair, hollowed eyes, and a haunted expression.
Name: Scarletta D.
Status: Missing. Presumed dead.
Reward for information: 800,000 credits.