Page 78 of Sublime Target

She looked up, but she couldn’t see anything except the deepening violet of the night sky. “I presume it’s up there somewhere, hidden by your invisibility technology.”

A faint smile curved Lyzar’s lips. “That’s correct. Starcatcher is the first in a new series of small stealth-craft. The commander himself named it.”

“Commander? I thought you didn’t address one another by rank anymore.”

“That’s correct too, but we are from the military, and to many of us, someone like him will only ever be known as commander. It’s what we’re comfortable with. Out of respect, not deference. Many of us owe him our lives.”

“I see.” It was strange to hear Jerik—her Jerik—spoken of in such vaunted terms, especially after she’d met him.

He’d seemed so normal.

Down-to-Earth, for want of a better term.

At Lyzar’s gentle urging, she stepped onto the floating platform. “Don’t go too fast. I don’t want my hair to get messed up.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” the Kordolian said in a gravely serious tone, and Clarissa couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not.

Were they all like this?

And just like that, they started to rise, and Clarissa didn’t even need to grip the little handlebar thing because the movement was as smooth and sure as anything she’d ever known, and somehow, she knew that she would never, ever fall.

They flew right up into the hatch of the waiting ship, and before she knew it, she was inside dark-and-luminous surroundings that looked vaguely familiar, even though she’d never been inside this ship in her life.

It reminded her of the ship Jerik had taken her on—Tarsin, he’d called it.

Lyzar escorted her through the rear cabin into a passenger chamber, albeit one that was much more luxurious than the other ship she’d flown on. The seats here were big and plush, and surprise, surprise; there was actually some variety in color, the upholstery made of a cream-hued material that looked like leather, although it could be any space-age material, really.

The lighting was different in here, too; warm and muted, giving the cabin a cozy feel.

There was a beverage-bot at the head of the room. Not any ordinary department-store level beverage-bot, but a fancy high-end one, the molecular composition sort that didn’t have to be refilled so often. It was the kind of thing that might exist in a trillionaire’s kitchen.

She knew that well enough.

“Please be seated,” Lyzar said. “As we’ll be traveling into space, a safety harness will be activated, but don’t be alarmed. It has been calibrated to your personal specifications and is designed to protect you in the case of an unexpected emergency. The flight won’t be long. Less than a quarter-hour in human units of time measurement.”

“Thank you, Lyzar.” Clarissa made her way to the seat, which was right alongside a window-port.

“Would you like to consume a beverage before and during our flight?”

“No, I’m fine, but thank you for asking.” She sat down, marveling at how comfortable the seat was.

“Very well. Enjoy the short flight, ma’am. I’ll be in front. If you require anything, just call out.”

He disappeared through a dark doorway that knitted shut behind him, thousands or even millions of tendrils coalescing to form a seal.

She probably would have found that creepy if she wasn’t already a little accustomed to Kordolian ways.

A pair of black tendril-things came down over her shoulders and chest, gently securing her as the ship started to rise.

She didn’t feel a thing, didn’t hear a thing. All she could see was the rooftop disappearing beneath them and the building growing smaller and smaller, and there were the lights of the streetscape, floating away as they went higher, and all of a sudden, they were above the city, and the glittering landscape became minuscule, and everything was dark.

Now, she could see the surface of the planet, the half that was hidden from the sun’s radiance.

The lights of the Eastern seaboard of the Oceanic Republic… she could see them perfectly well where the landmass abruptly ended, a glowing line marking the transition to the deep, dark ocean.

Just like that, they were in space, and the shadowed face of the Earth with its familiar glittering outlines—light-etched edges of continents—was becoming smaller and smaller, to the point where she could pretend to hold it between two fingers.

They traveled for a while; it could have been two minutes, could have been ten. She was so wound up that she could no longer estimate the passing of time.

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