The car hummed beneath them like a caged animal. Leonora sat rigid in the back seat with her hands folded into white-knuckled composure, and the lights of the city threw quick, hard reflections across her face as they passed.
"Lady Leonora, the ships are ready to launch."
"Let's go, Anna."
Anna started the engine, and her eyes found Leonora's in the mirror, full of worry. "May I ask you one question, my lady?"
"What is it?"
"Last night you seemed… irritated. Did something happen?"
Leonora looked out at the passing façades. "Nothing worth mentioning. A drunk bumped into me and spilled his drink all over me, and I got angry because we have to leave today and my uniform was ruined." She said it the way she gave orders, flat and final, but something in her eyes was seething with harder things.
Anna's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "If you want me to take care of the man, just say the word, my lady."
A ghost of a smile, cruel and private, touched Leonora's mouth. "Don't worry, Anna. I think he has it coming either way."
They reached the launch station a few minutes later. Anna bowed and pulled away on her route home while Leonora stepped out onto the platform with her breath clouding in the early cold. She had only taken a few steps when a motorbike engine rose behind her like a challenge. The rider slowed beside her and pulled off his helmet with a casual audacity that made the whole station feel smaller.
"It's you!" Youri said, as if they were old friends.
Leonora stared at him. "Do you know who you're talking to? Who are you?"
He laughed as if it were a private joke. His grin was far too bright for a man with bottles in his pockets and war in his eyes. "Oh, me? Sorry, I didn't introduce myself." He stepped closer, charming and dangerous in the same breath. "My name is Youri Kronos. You probably know me as D7."
The words landed like metal. Leonora's nostrils flared. "You — you're that idiot who spilled his drink on me!"
"Really? I'm sorry, I don't remember. I blacked out last night." He shrugged, as though the universe could be settled with pocket change. "Feel free to send me the bill. I'll take care of it."
Her voice dropped to ice. "And you have the audacity to say that? Do you realize, Youri Kronos, that you could be court-martialed just for stopping here and talking to me? Not to mention riding an unauthorized vehicle into a high-security station. If you're looking to die, please save it for the battlefield. You'd be doing us both a favor."
His grin softened into something like an apology, and then into mischief. "Sorry for the trouble, General. Want a lift to the ship?"
Her hand drifted toward the hilt at her hip. "Keep this up and I'll kill you myself, right here."
"I'll take that as a no," he said, and pulled his helmet back on.
Aboard the main ship, the cargo bay smelled of oil, ozone and the metallic tang of nerves before a battle. Officers moved through it like parts of a machine, and a dozen pairs of boots stamped to attention as she came aboard.
"General, welcome back."
"Thank you, everyone. I'm sorry for the short notice. These are orders from the Emperor himself." Her tone was clipped but watchful. "How are the preparations going?"
"Everything is ready, my lady. Everyone is on board except for the god pilot. He's still missing."
"Then send someone to drag him onto this ship," Leonora said. "Check the buffet. I'm fairly sure he's there."
The team found him exactly where she had said, leaning on a counter in the mess with the smell of gin and old decisions hanging around him. "Man, I can't find anything in here," he was complaining to no one. "Where do these guys keep the booze?" Then a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder, and a voice behind him said, "There he is. Detain him." The cuffs snapped cold around his wrists. He looked amused about it, the way he always looked amused, and it rubbed every one of them the wrong way.
"General, the pilot is on the ship," the report came a few minutes later.
Leonora's expression was unreadable. "Great. All engines, full force. Let's go."
The briefing room was a circle of cold light and warmer tempers. When the guards marched Youri in with his hands still cuffed, he looked around the table and then at the woman at its head. He did not look surprised in the slightest.
"Oh, it's you, General," he said. "I hope your guys brought my booze too."
Leonora did not smile. She picked up the file in front of her and read from it without looking at him. "Listen to me, D7. I've read your profile. I know you're a loose cannon, and your tendency toward self-sabotage and your drinking don't help. But when it comes to talent, you are the best there is. A ninety-seven percent link with the artifact — that alone speaks volumes." She set the file down and finally looked at him. "You hide your procedures under those tattoos, but I can see straight through it. Behind that façade you're nothing but a little attention-seeking puppy desperate for its owner to notice it." She clapped slowly, like someone delivering a verdict.
Youri's gaze slid over the insult like water. "You hit the nail on the head, General. So, about my booze—"
Her hand came across his face before he could finish, a slap that cut through the stale air of the room and left a red mark along his cheekbone. The crew around the table stiffened.
"This is my ship," Leonora said, "and here we do things my way. You are no exception. Keep him in detention until we reach our destination. He has one job, and that's to execute others. Once he's done, put him back in."
"Yes, my lady."
The guards took him by the arms, and he let them. But at the door he turned his head and gave her one last jab, softer and almost thoughtful. "Hey, General. Do you know what monsters do when they lose their source of food?"
The door closed on the question before she could answer it, and somehow that made it worse.
The fleet arrived at Kalkan like a storm of metal, its lines and formations folding into a grim choreography while the holo-maps spun with positions, orders and kill matrices. Leonora had barely taken her seat on the bridge before she gave the order. "We've reached our destination. Put me through to the commanding officer."
"Yes, my lady."
The screen lit with the face of a well-groomed man with a velvet voice that hid a great many knives. "This is Count Markus, leader of the Kalkan campaign."
"Nice to meet you, Count Markus. General Kaelthorn, at your service." Her courtesy was armor. "We've brought the God Orbiton. What's the plan?"
"You are free to deploy the God Unit right away, General."
"Wait." Her voice flared like steel, and the men around her drew in their breath. "You want to deploy the God Unit right now?"
"Yes, General. I'd like this battle to end quickly. I have duties back in the capital that I must attend to very soon, so the sooner we finish, the better." His impatience tasted of thin ambition.
Leonora's eyes narrowed. Pride and duty walked a careful line through her answer. "I understand, Count Markus. In that case, as of now I will take command of this campaign. You are free to leave whenever you wish."
"Are you trying to steal my glory, General?" Markus snapped, his pride flaring.
"Heavens, no. But since you mentioned your duties in the capital, I'm happy to fill in for you here." Her smile was a blade hidden under silk — polite, final and dangerous.
Markus studied her for a long moment. "There's no need for that, General. But since you insist, I'd very much like to see how you handle this."
The challenge hung between them like static. All around her the fleet braced and the engines thrummed. Leonora turned to the deck with a resolve that no one on that bridge, and certainly no count, was going to bargain away.