Aboard the Aurelia, in the private quarters of the Gray Phantom, a single question cut through the silence. "Where is he?"
"He's waiting for you in your room, my lady. There's also a message from the homeland waiting for you."
"I'll look at it as soon as I'm finished with him."
"Yes, my lady."
The sound of Leonora's boots carried down the long marble corridor of the Imperial dreadnought Aurelia, cold, deliberate, in no particular hurry. She had just finished a war, and whatever her brother had flown across half the Empire to tell her, she had a feeling she was not going to enjoy it. The automatic door to her quarters hissed open, and she had barely stepped inside before Roland launched himself at her.
"Sister! I missed you so much!"
"Get off me!" Her voice cracked like a whip. "You're twenty-four now. Maintain some composure."
"I'm sorry," Roland said, stepping back with a grin that was half guilt and half childish warmth. "But I haven't seen you in months. Is it a crime to hug my sister?"
"What are you here for?" Every trace of warmth had been stripped out of the question.
"Right. I have something very important to tell you."
"Then say it quickly. I have more important things to do."
He smiled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck the way he had done ever since he was a boy. "You're going to be surprised. While you were fighting out here, there was an emergency council meeting back in the capital."
Leonora frowned. "The council doesn't hold unplanned meetings."
"Well, they held this one, and I went as your representative." He took a hesitant breath. "The Empire has a big problem. It's the Tartarusios."
"The renegades?" Her eyes narrowed, and her reflection flickered in the glass wall behind him.
"Yes. Apparently they destroyed twelve ships with a single Orbiton. They captured a recording of it, and that's what I came to show you." He activated the holo-projector. "See for yourself."
Blue light flooded the room and gathered into an unmistakable shape: a sleek, obsidian Orbiton cutting through the void with inhuman precision. Leonora went completely still. Her eyes widened, just slightly, then hardened. When she turned to look at her brother, there was something dangerous in her face.
"That's Altopereh," she said. "They think Youri is still alive?" Her voice dropped. "You dare show me this?"
"I'm sorry, sister," Roland said softly, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Hurting you was the last thing I wanted. If it weren't for you, I'd still be on the streets of Terria. I know what he meant to you. I saw what losing him did to you." He made himself look up again. "But the records suggest he might not be dead."
"Do we know who's on that crew?"
"Some names. Their captain is Oscar Meilton. Two weeks ago, Youri's name was added to their registry."
Leonora stepped closer to the hologram until its light washed over her face. "You know he would never work for anyone. We both know how serious his condition was. And yet…" Her voice trembled just beneath its usual poise. "There are very few people who could ever pilot Altopereh, and none of them left the capital that day."
Her legs gave way beneath her. She sank to the floor, and her gauntlets clinked against the steel plating as she caught herself. For a long moment she did not say anything at all, and when she finally did, it came out as half a laugh.
"So you came all the way out here to tell me that my husband — the man I buried in my heart — is still alive somewhere out there, and in five years he never once thought to tell me."
She laughed again, hollow and tired. Then she slammed her fist into the wall hard enough to leave a dent in the metal. "That idiot," she hissed. "I'll bring him back. Even if I have to drag his body through every star in this cursed galaxy."
Roland knelt beside her. "Sister, I never wanted to see you cry again. I'm sorry I made you."
Leonora smiled faintly, with tears streaking down to the edges of her cheeks like thin lines of light. "These are tears of joy, and I'll take responsibility for them myself. But I promise you, this will be the last time."
Roland let out a long breath and shook his head. "Good job, Roland," he muttered to himself. "You made the Phantom cry."
The monitor on the wall chimed with an urgent tone before either of them could say anything else. "My lady, we need you at the helm. There's an urgent call for you."
"I'm coming," Leonora said, rising to her feet, and by the time she was standing her voice had returned to its usual iron steadiness. "Let's go, Roland. After this, we'll bring him back."
On the command deck, an officer hurried to her side. "My lady, the call is from the capital."
"Put it on."
The main monitor flared to life with Minister Alan's composed face. "Greetings, General Leonora. I congratulate you on the conquest of the Helix region. The Emperor sends his highest regards."
"Thank you, Minister Alan," she said formally, her chin lifted.
"I wish that were the only reason for my call," Alan went on, and his tone grew grave. "But it saddens me to tell you that Marquis Norda Miller has perished in battle at Altea. He fought bravely, but he was killed in the explosion that consumed his ship. The Emperor will hold a royal funeral in his honor, and His Highness requires all high-command officers to be present."
Leonora inclined her head. "Understood, Minister. Please give my condolences to the Miller family, and thank you for informing me."
"One more thing, General." Alan's voice darkened. "The ones responsible for the Marquis's death were the crew of the Tartarusios. His Highness has personally decreed a bounty of ten million zells for their capture, dead or alive. Safe travels on your return."
"Thank you, Minister. I'll see you at the funeral."
The call ended, and the silence that followed filled the whole bridge. Leonora's fists clenched at her sides. "Things just got complicated," she said quietly.
"Shit!" Roland snarled, and he punched the nearest console so hard that the monitor above it shattered in a burst of sparks.
Leonora stood among the shards with her reflection broken across them, a dozen fragments of a woman who was far too strong to weep again. When she spoke, her voice was low, deliberate, colder than space itself.
"So be it. The Empire wants them dead, and I want him back. One way or another, we're going hunting."
The last word fell like a vow and echoed through the room like the hum of her Orbiton's engine waking up.