Page 53 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
“I’m sure he is,” Vex’ra says dryly, and I have the distinct impression she knows exactly what kind of “debriefing” I’m walking into.
But as we head back toward the fortress, I find I’m looking forward to it. The diplomatic tour was successful, the political implications are promising, and Henrok is waiting for me with that intensity that still makes my heart race.
Not bad for a day’s work in my new career as a diplomatic attaché.
14
Handing in My Wings
Suki
I’vebeenputtingthisoff for three days.
The secure comm unit sits on my desk—my actual desk, with my actual name etched into the obsidian surface in flowing Zaterran script. Not a crate I’ve repurposed. Not a ship console. A real desk that isn’t going anywhere, in an office that isn’t moving at faster-than-light speeds toward the next drop-off point.
“You are procrastinating,” Rusty observes, rolling into my office with a steaming mug of what passes for coffee in Zater Reach. “This unit has observed you reorganizing the same manifest files seventeen times in the past hour.”
“I’m optimizing,” I correct him, accepting the mug. “There’s a difference.”
“This unit has been programmed with over seven thousand psychological response patterns,” Rusty counters. “Avoidance behavior is pattern number forty-two.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable since your personality upgrade?”
“First Blade Henrok. This morning. After this unit suggested his training regimen showed signs of decreased efficiency due to ‘excessive nocturnal activities.’”
I choke on my drink. “You didn’t.”
“This unit did. First Blade Henrok’s crystalline markings achieved maximum luminosity. Fascinating biological response.”
“He was embarrassed,” I translate, grinning at the mental image. “And probably plotting ways to turn you into spare parts.”
“Negative. First Blade Henrok has increased this unit’s security clearance by two levels since your relationship began.”
With a deep breath, I activate the secure comm unit, inputting the direct line to OOPS Dispatch. The connection resolves into the familiar, weathered face of Madge “Mother” Morrison.
“Dispatch,” she barks without looking at the screen.
“Hey, Mother. Still running the galaxy’s most dysfunctional delivery service?”
Her head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “Vega. Figured a black hole finally swallowed you.” Her gaze flicks over my surroundings. “Nice digs. Doesn’t look like a courier bunk.”
“It’s not. I’m calling from Zater Reach.”
“That frozen rock with the trigger-happy Zaterrans? Thought that was a drop-and-run job.”
“It was supposed to be. Things got... complicated.”
After a tense conversation about the sabotage beacon and her role in sending me here, I finally get to the point.
“Actually, Mother, I’m calling to tender my resignation.”
The words hang in the static-filled silence. Mother’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in her eyes.
“Took you long enough,” she says finally, reaching for something off-screen. “Finally found someone willing to put up with your terrible taste in synth-coffee?”
“Something like that. Let’s just say Zater Reach has grown on me. And its First Blade isn’t half bad once you get past the obsidian armor.”
Mother snorts. “Always knew you’d end up somewhere weird, Vega. You never did fit the standard courier mold. Too mouthy. Too clever for your own good.”
