Chapter 17 #2
“Dhomhes.”
Sereya had stepped closer.
“You went somewhere.”
“I was thinking about the ship.”
“So was I.”
Down the corridor a staff member called for the next group. Sereya looked toward the voice, then back at him.
“I don't much want to go up another ramp.”
He couldn't tell her it would be easy. The first ramp was still under his feet whenever he let himself remember it.
“We can take our time on it.”
“You'll be busy.”
“Sereya.”
She looked up.
“You can ask me for a hand.”
Her throat moved. Then she held out hers.
“I'm asking now.”
He took it.
They walked to the waiting transport together. At the residence doors, Roemary turned from an animated conversation with a staff member and saw them.
Her glance touched their hands. Her smile thinned before she restored it.
“There you are. I was beginning to think we'd lost you.”
“I'm with my group,” Sereya said.
Roemary looked at Dhomhes. “Perhaps you can explain why we have so little warning. Some of us have been trying to help.”
“Your driver has the instructions. Staff will take your bag.”
“I meant help you.”
“Then please board.”
Sereya's fingers tightened around his. He couldn't tell whether she was holding back a laugh or bracing for what Roemary might do later.
Possibly both.
He stayed until she was seated. Then he put her bag within reach and bent close enough that the words belonged to her.
“You did nothing wrong by taking my hand.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
“Neither did you,” she said.
He smiled all the way back to the front of the vehicle.
The ore transport was no prettier in person.
Dhomhes stood by the ramp while the volunteers boarded. Heat came off the engine housings. Beneath it was the smell he knew from his father's crews: old sweat, oil, ore worked into places no amount of cleaning ever quite reached.
Sereya stopped at the foot of the incline.
He offered his hand without speaking.
For a moment she stared past him into the hold. Then her fingers closed around his, and she took the first step.
He walked with her to the top. At the entrance she drew a breath and looked down at their hands.
“I can manage from here.”
“I know.”
“Thank you for the part before here.”
He let her go. She moved inside, her wrap over her arm, and he turned back to the platform before he could make the other passengers wait while he watched her find a seat.
Stron and Khalzin were approaching. Janae and Adryel had gone ahead of them, talking quietly.
“I cannot believe you agreed to this,” Stron said to Khalzin as they started up.
“What other option do we have? They have to be kept safe.”
“But the dark side of Kantenan? Where all the refineries are?” Stron said. “Already I can smell it, and it is disgusting. They will hate it there.”
Dhomhes came toward them.
“Safest place on Kantenan to be.”
“How do you figure?” Stron asked.
“No one would dare put a bomb in a Kantenan refinery.
It would blow up half the planet. The unrefined citricite requires very special care because of its volatile nature before it's refined.
No matter how desperate they are to get rid of the Galactic Alliance presence, they won't attack them there.”
“You seem very certain.”
Dhomhes raised an eyebrow.
“Never been more certain. They won't let anything happen to them, I promise. My father is the Protector of the New Kingdom, remember? His entire place in the Coalition is to protect and speak for the refinery and their workers.”
“And make sure the citricite continues to be produced,” Stron said.
“I promise you that no one in the Coalition wants the profits to stop. So, the refineries are the safest place on Kantenan right now.”
Stron remained unimpressed by the smell.
Dhomhes left him to it and went aboard with them.
He knew those refineries: the sealed, dark processing sheds where raw citricite was handled, the separate housing and freight apron where no unrefined ore was permitted.
His father's crews lived by that division.
He had been thinking of anyone foolish enough to bomb the processing works.
It was harder to imagine an enemy walking through the familiar doors beside them.
Guards stood around the converted passenger area. The seats were filling, voices kept low. At the back, beside Adryel and Janae, Sereya leaned slightly toward the two females.
He was glad to see her there. Janae had worried about her long before Sereya had been willing to admit anything was wrong.
Khalzin stayed toward the rear while Dhomhes and Stron continued forward.
“Did you arrange an escort?” Stron asked.
“Do you think I'm an idiot?”
“I don't know what you've been experiencing the last few days, but I've been attacked multiple times, nearly died a few of them. So the question is valid.”
Dhomhes shook his head. “You worry too much.”
Stron looked back through the hold before answering.
“Or not enough.”
Dhomhes had no clever reply to that.
He went to speak with the captain.
The final passenger check showed Khalzin and Janae had left the transport.
Dhomhes looked at the amended count. They had gone together. It was a deliberate departure, not two people left standing on the platform while someone shut a ramp on them.
He sent Khalzin a request for confirmation that they had protection, then returned his attention to the passengers who were staying.
The engines changed pitch. He felt the first lift through his boots.
Stron stood where he could look back into the hold. Dhomhes knew which passenger he was finding each time. He had begun measuring rooms in much the same way himself.
Beyond the forward glass, their escorts took position.
He gave the receiving team the revised count and checked the landing arrangements once more. Guards at the perimeter. Staff to guide the passengers inside. Rooms ready, including the separate accommodation Sereya had already requested on the light side.
The captain brought them around. Green land slid away beneath them, the atmosphere thinning into the duller colors Dhomhes had known as a child.
He remembered promising Sereya stars.
This was not how he had wanted to bring her here. There would be smoke above the towers and noise through the walls, frightened females trying to sleep in unfamiliar beds. He would spend the first hours working.
Still, she was coming to the place that had made him. Eventually she would see more than its holding rooms and ugly transports.
He wanted her to.
His comm held a reply from the search supervisor. The unit was still working the light-side search ground. No new withdrawal had reached them.
He sent the update to Hawn and added that he would call when they were on the ground.
Then the refineries appeared through the forward glass, their working lights spread across the rock, and Dhomhes began calling in the landing positions.