Chapter 16
KIT
SFS POLARIS
They have a small funeral for Pru, though it’s nothing like what they would have done on Lumaria.
Lumarian funerals are grand, as much of a celebration as they are a place to mourn a loss.
Her mother’s funeral was festive, a gathering of her favorite people, who all laughed and shared stories about her, while drinking the golden mead that Lumaria was known for, eating all of her mother’s favorite delicacies from the stalls in downtown Aventia.
And at the end of it all, they watched as her casket was lit aflame, wished her safety as she crossed into the After.
Casting Pru into space feels wrong to Kit, but they have no place to keep the body of an infected for another sixty days, and they certainly aren’t about to light a fire aboard a spaceship.
Caelinus, the golden-haired man that always sits with Task in the mess, assures her this is how they always pay their respects on Nexarium.
He stands next to her as they gather in a semicircle around Pru’s remains, Knox on her other side.
Knox runs his hand up and down his neck over and over again, clearly trying not to cry, as Finn says a few, quiet words about his sister.
Her softness, her perpetual smile, the way she could improve his mood without even trying. Kit feels the same about Knox.
Task isn’t here, and she tries not to be angry.
He’s the Hand to the Governor; of course he would have other, potentially more important things to do than attend the makeshift funeral of a girl he barely knew.
But still, she feels rage churn in her gut.
He was with her for her final moments. Was ribbing her only a few hours earlier. Surely, he could come pay his respects.
And then, almost as if she’s thought him into existence, he appears, striding into the hangar clutching three long-stemmed desert lilies.
He makes his way toward the front of the circle, placing the flowers on top of the metal box with Pruett’s remains.
He steps back, saying nothing, simply nodding toward Caelinus and Voss. A tremor of shock rolls through Kit.
Finn turns to Task, tears in his eyes. “Thank you, major.”
“She deserved something beautiful,” Task says, tone flat, twisting the ring on his pointer finger.
“May she rest with Odite.” Kit doesn’t know which god Odite is, but it is not one she is familiar with on Lumaria.
Those who worship on Lumaria generally pay respects to Aaris, the goddess of consolation, but Kit is not about to interrupt the moment.
“May she rest with Odite,” Voss and Caelinus murmur. Kit grasps Finn hand in her own, squeezing it, as two engineers crank open the hangar doors. Then they’re pushing her out, flowers and all, watching as the universe swallows what is left of Pruett Payne.
The lounge on the fourth floor is almost empty, its deep maroon walls backlit by dim lights. A Lumarian stands behind the bar, polishing a glass with a cloth, and murmuring softly to the only other remaining patron seated on the plush stool.
Kit reclines in a large, leather chair, limply grasping her empty glass, resting her head against the back and closing her eyes.
The last of the little group trickled off an hour ago, Finn lifting his head from her shoulder and pressing a chaste kiss to the side of her head.
She doesn’t know what to make of it, her ex-boyfriend kissing her like that, but thinks he’s likely overcome with grief, and tries to push it from her mind.
Now, as she languishes in the chair, she’s let the strange discovery about her blood from the other day rise to the forefront of her mind.
Her conversation with Nevis and Amaltheia lingers.
She’s not been able to connect with her father — he’s been in meetings and briefings day in and day out, and she’s honestly not sure when the man sleeps.
But now, with the funeral finished and only herself for company, she lets herself wonder.
“Still here?” A voice startles her, and she looks up, banishing the thoughts from her mind as Task walks in.
How did he even know she was here before?
Their little group was all Lumarians who’d known Pruett and the Paynes, no sign of any Nexarians except for Task’s shadow soldiers hidden along the walls.
“I don’t want to go back,” Kit finds herself admitting, her lips loosened by the amount she’s already had to drink.
Task stands at the bar in the lounge, signaling the Lumarian bartender for a drink. “You want another?” He looks over his shoulder at her.
She shouldn’t, but she wants nothing more than to numb herself right now, to avoid feeling the things she knows will come rushing in as soon as she’s back in her cabin, alone.
“Why not?” she says.
He brings the drinks to where she sits, taking the seat across from her and pushing hers toward her. “I promise it helps.”
“I know,” Kit says. “I’m already several deep.”
He raises his brows, and she puts up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I know I’ll regret it in the morning, but I just…I don’t want to feel it right now. Any of it.”
Task nods, accepting this answer. “I understand.”
She’s not sure how he could understand, but then again, she knows very little about him. She supposes he’s seen his share of death being in the Nexarium Force, lost men on the battlefield. The medical bay is hers.
His azure eyes trail over her, and she feels a flutter in her stomach, in spite of herself. He takes a long swallow of his drink. “You know you did everything you could, right?”
Kit doesn’t believe that; she’s sure she could have done more. If only she’d been able to make more progress on the antidote, Pruett would still be with them. “I should have been able to save her,” Kit says. “I promised Finn.”
“That’s not fair,” Task says, swirling his whiskey as his eyes trace her features.
“The Fever is complicated. And I see you. You’re doing everything you can, day in and day out.
” Kit isn’t sure where this is coming from, why he’s being kind to her.
They don’t like each other. She’d wanted to slap him yesterday when he’d questioned her methods, yet again.
“I’m glad your eternal presence has been good for something,” Kit snorts.
Task ignores her jab, still staring at her intently. “And,” he says, more quietly, “maybe you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
His words should upset her, but she finds herself nodding, taking another sip of her drink, and then another, until she’s polished off the glass and her head is pleasantly spinning. He gets her another from the bar, handing it wordlessly back to her, as if he knows her pain, somehow.
“Where’d the flowers come from?” she asks, trailing her finger around the rim of the glass.
“The sundome,” Task says.
“I’ve never seen desert lilies in there.” Kit has gone there a handful of times, but the flora is primarily Lumarian, and they don’t have desert lilies.
“A secret stash.” Task’s lips quirk. “A favorite of mine from Nexarium. Had one of my men bring a few seeds.”
Kit hums, contemplating the man in front of her. One that is hard, but who also keeps showing her little bits of softness. They sit in silence for awhile longer, finishing their drinks. She’s avoiding Task’s gaze, which is making her body feel hot all over.
She places her empty glass on the table, head spinning, stomach pleasantly warm, troubling thoughts far from her mind. She should sleep now. She has to be in the medical bay for a shift at 5:00 a.m. and it’s late. Past midnight.
She goes to stand, but her footing is off as the room swoops to her right.
“Easy.” Task is next to her suddenly, his hand on her arm, steadying her. She thinks she sees him wince, but she’s drunk and can’t be certain. “Let’s get you to bed. Come on.”
Kit doesn’t protest, letting him wrap an arm around her waist and guide her out of the corridor as she lurches into him, her balance totally shot.
“How many of those did you have?” Task asks, chuckling under his breath.
“I don’t know,” Kit replies, giggling a bit. “Too many.” The corridor wavers in her vision and she stumbles again, but he grips her tightly, righting her.
Her skin tingles where his arm touches her, and she feels unexpectedly light, like a weight has been lifted from her chest. She sighs contentedly and slumps into him further, trying to make her feet move as they continue down the hall.
After far too long, they make it to her cabin, and she somehow remembers that she needs to place her hand on the pad to get in, manages to slide her door open and fall through it. She laughs, then swears as she loses her footing again trying to get her shoe off.
Task stands on the other side of her open doorway, his hands in his pockets as he smirks at her. “You going to be alright?”
“I’m fine, major,” she says, though she is decidedly not fine. She is far drunker than she thought. She sits on the floor, struggling with the laces of her shoe.
“Task,” he says. “You can call me Task.”
“Alright, Task. Thank you for bringing me back to my room, but I’m fine. Now good night.”
He doesn’t move, cocking his head to the side, as if trying to understand her. Finally, he backs away, inclining his head in her direction. “Good night, Kit.”