Page 44 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

“Are you serious?” Kaz almost dropped the wrench.

For a few blissful hours he’d forgotten about the galaxy they’d left behind. Now reality had returned to slap him in the face. “The Triad has launched an exploratory mission to uncover the legend of Ara Ana. How will they know where to find it? They don’t have a key.”

“Or do they?”

Could Bolivarr have been wrong about Wren being the only one? The question hung between them. Aral’s gut told him Bolivarr wasn’t mistaken. But then, they never found out what he intended to transmit before he disappeared.

Aral watched the vid in disbelief as a poised, attractive blond Triad lieutenant chatted with a reporter on the bridge of an ultra-modern starship. “Mission: Origins—the quest to find the goddess-treasure,” the journalist said, beaming. “Join us for our daily broadcasts as we experience the adventure along with the crew of theTASUnity.”

“Experience theadventure?” Surely he’d misheard. But sadly, he had not. After a few more minutes of watching the fluff piece, he cut the signal. “The Triad is going treasure hunting. And unless our asses get moving, they’re going to beat us to it.”

“Locating the sanctum and getting inside it are two very different things.” Hair damp and braided, Wren stood in the galley hatchway. Her gaze was fierce. “I’m the only one who can unlock it. I’m the last surviving Sacred Key. The treasure is mine, and it’s my destiny to claim it.”

“It’s my duty to see that you do.” Their eyes met, and a surge of emotion filled his chest. He’d fought too hard and lost too much to allow this unwelcome development to steal their future—or the galaxy’s.

In the beginning, he’d wanted to gain possession of the treasure to keep it from the Empire. Then he wanted it to fulfill Bolivarr’s mission—to see it to its end, so his death wouldn’t have been in vain. Now, in light of the Triad’s obsession with Wren, the treasure could very well be the bargaining chip he needed to save her life.

He closed the news stream and was at his pilot station in seconds. “ETA to Ara Ana.” He looked at the figures. Too many jumps for his liking remained—if the drive continued to cooperate. TheResiliencewas noUnity.It was a sturdy little cruiser, but it wasn’t designed to be pushed to its limits across deep space.

But push he would. With the Triad’s carefully choreographed, prettily packaged Mission: Origins underway, it would be a race to see who would reach the sanctum first. Second place was not an option.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

“Ara Ana—onscreen,”Admiral Bandar said.

Hadley and the bridge crew of theUnitygot their first glimpse of 95834-UTF, the small, uninhabited planet at the outermost edge of settled space. Well, it wasn’t Ara Ana “actual,” but a virtual image based on the latest data. TheUnity’s AI’s best guess of what they could expect to see.

But not what Hadley expected to see. The planet’s appearance was somewhat of a disappointment. It was as dull, white, and featureless as an unpowered light ball.

A virtual journalist was along to capture the moment. The woman’s real person was located in a studio countless light-years away. The press had become a familiar presence on theUnity. Dealing with the media had become one of Hadley’s major duties as the journey wore on. Her parents informed her that she’d become a home-world hero back on Talo—their first local celebrity. Not for her war record, mind you, but for her appearances on news streams. Goddess. Well, at least she could use the opportunity to work on her iffy social skills. “The quest to find the Goddess treasure,” the wavering image said. “What lies within the sanctum? Will it be the discovery of a lifetime, or will we find that pirates have beaten us to it and pillaged the contents?”

Pirates? Hadley caught Rakkelle rolling her eyes from where she sat at the pilot station. Hadley almost matched her smirk before she schooled her expression into one more suitable for public relations. The central galaxy was obsessed with the idea of space pirates. From the comfort of their living rooms, they wanted to live the adventure. The truth was very different. Being a pirate was no glamorous life. It meant periods of desperation and hunger. Rakkelle learned to fly while serving on a pirate ship as a teen, and she’d told Hadley some hair-raising stories.“At least there were a lot of men around,”she liked to say, claiming they had boosted her overall job satisfaction.

Hadley replied to the journalist. “We hope not, ma’am. But rest assured, Admiral Bandar and the crew of theUnityhave full authority to arrest trespassers or looters and deter any interference with our exploration.”

Garwin Tadlock, the archeologist, rubbed his hands together with an audible swish, a nervous habit. “I dearly hope we find more than leftovers when we get there,” he said. The sandy-haired, aging lieutenant with a sprinkle of freckles on his face had no battle experience. Yet as a respected scientist, he’d be invaluable once they reached their destination.

“Even the smallest item from our past will be significant,” Sister Chara, their religious advisor, said in a reassuring tone. A tall woman with long silver hair, the sister had dedicated her life to the study of ancient Sakkaran. At one hundred and thirty-one years old, she was the oldest person Hadley had ever met, a calm and reliable presence on the ship.

From the corner of her eye, Hadley saw Bandar’s hand go to her ear. “Bandar,” the admiral said, two fingers hovering over her PCD. “Understood.” Her gaze swerved to Hadley. The almost imperceptible waggle of her chin told Hadley to cut off the virtual reporter’s transmission—now.

Hadley turned to the journalist. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll have to continue this later.” She reached for the cutoff and killed the signal.

“There was an incident at one of the Borderlands outposts,” Bandar said, then commed Captain Rorkken. “Finn, I need you down here. We have a situation—external. Security will brief.”

Bolivarr and his boss Major Caro strode onto the bridge. Bolivarr nodded at Hadley, his eyes warming, but when he noticed the image of Ara Ana, he stopped and stared.

“Such a curious lack of detail,” Hadley said. “Thick cloud cover, maybe.”

“Captain Rorkken thinks it’s interference of some sort. Protections that might be in place.” Bolivarr winced and pulled his eyes away. “When we get within visual range, we should be able use the onboard equipment to map the surface.”

And then it would be “boots on the ground,” as the Terrans put it. Bolivarr was a master tracker, as was she. If anyone did beat them to the site, thinking they could get away with plundering relics, Bolivarr would find them.

The cadence of his footsteps sounded uneven as they walked to the conference room. “Are you limping?”

“Am I?” He shrugged. “I’m just a little stiff, I guess.” He gave her arm a friendly squeeze and left to sit with Major Caro. No“I’ll see you later.”Lately, she’d seen him hardly at all.

She hugged her data-vis to her chest. He was thinner, and the shadows under his eyes looked deeper. But every time she asked how he was doing, he raised his shields, keeping her out. He insisted he was “fine.”

---