Page 11 of When the Universe Sings

That made sense if he preferred not to remove his mask, but Rhiaon huffed on my other side, flicking the napkin before settling it on their thigh. “It’s not that hedoesn’t like it, Max. Quinzyr don’t remove their entire helmets in front of others who aren’t family unless they’re at home, you know that.” Rhiaon’s voice was softly accented in a way I hadn’t heard before, almost lyrical, and I was surprised it was different than Rys’.

Their gaze landed on my face as I reached for various plates and put a little of everything, save for the meat, on my own. When I didn’t push for more information, their shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Dinner turned out to be a mostly quiet affair, except for Rys and Greabes keeping up a near-constant bickering at the end of the table. First about the best type of weapon: plasma or electromagnetic. Then about whether the females on Venya were more beautiful than the beings on Kyyhr. By the time our plates were empty and the captain strode back into the room I’d learned Rys had a penchant for quara daggers, a preference for the voluptuous females on Venya, and a love of Haptium music that had Zoleka and Rhiaon rolling their eyes. Contrarily, it seemed Greabes preferred plasma weapons (namely the blaster on his hip), liked the svelte three-headed beings of Kyyhr, and couldn’t stand music of any kind. Something about his ears being too sensitive forall that noise.

“All right,” Captain Ruciyah rumbled as he settled at his place at the head of the table. “Are you ready?”

There was a hum of agreement from the crew. He tugged a silvery octagon from his belt and flung it halfway down the table. A hologram flickered to life, rotating to show all sides of a planet-like sphere. A few of the crew leaned forward. Rys’ eyes glittered with excitement, an expression mirrored almostperfectly on Crux’s face, while Rhiaon beside me looked on with a soldier’s attention. Captain Ruciyah paused for a moment and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Then let’s begin.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Keva Um’plem,it turned out, was a satellite port orbiting the Class One planet Silomen.

Last night I’d spent hours in the mess with the rest of the crew, listening to Captain Ruciyah explain the job we had to do today. Now my heartbeat thundered in my ears as theKuxatanadocked in one of the many loading bays. I stood between the captain and Crux, taking in slow sips of air.

My clothes were similar to the ones I’d worn yesterday when I arrived on the ship, though the cowl had a bottom section I could tuck around my ears to obscure the bottom half of my face. When the captain turned to me and gave a slight nod, I pulled the fabric up alongside Crux, who wore a similar face covering. Since we traveled with a true Quinzyr, Crux and me covering our faces wouldn’t seem out of place.

Once the ramp extended, the captain strode forward first and we fell into step behind him. I was grateful for the cowl when every few moments Crux’s eyes flicked in my direction. But the male did not try to speak as we made our way through the crowd of milling tourists, all waiting for clearance to land on Silomen.

We veered right at the hangar, turned down a less populated hallway and stopped at a small door markedMaintenance. Crux moved closer to Asher. With their bulk and height, I was all but invisible behind them as I touched the small magnetic square to the panel beside the frame. The males spoke in low voices, the sound a hum that covered up the hiss of the door opening and then closing behind me.

The maintenance closet was exactly as Maxtalen had described: a small room of panels controlling the various environmental units in this section of the port. Scanning the ceiling, I caught sight of the vent nestled into the back corner of the room. My lips twisted at the irony. My life seemed to revolve around shimmying into ventilation units. I placed my toe on one of the edges of the control panels and braced myself on either wall as I climbed to reach.

It was finicky to avoid the various levers and buttons. However, there were plenty of grooves for my fingers to dip into or small ledges to balance the toe of my boot on before the cold metal of the vent hummed against my skin and I pushed it to the side. Unlike the last time I’d been in a ventilation shaft, my clothes didn’t squeak as I maneuvered my way in. It was easy to pull myself up and replace the grate before tugging one of the small communicators from my pocket and putting it in my ear.

“Juniper?” Maxtalen’s voice was tinny but clear.

“In,” I answered.

A sigh of relief slipped through the communicator, swallowed by the sounds of tapping. “Right now, you’re in the west quadrant and our mark should be in one of the rooms within that sphere. I’ve got your location from the comm so as soon as you see him, let us know.”

He was repeating himself, tone wobbly with nerves. Last night Captain Ruciyah had shown us the image of the male who apparently had information on the whereabouts of the stone. But he had been on the run for months after killing an entire freighter load of travelers coming from quadrant one to two and was known to disappear into a crowd. Therefore, it was up to me to confirm his location before calling in the captain and Crux.

I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen once they had him, but I didn’t think they were going to ask politely where the stone was.

Carefully I crawled, stopping every so often to peek down into the various rooms within this part of the ship. Mainly they were small dining areas or quarters someone could rent for a few credits to rest while their ship was serviced. One room was full of an assortment of strange exercise equipment, but it was empty.

“Anything?” Maxtalen’s tinny voice rattled in my ear.

I shook my head before remembering he couldn’t see me. “No.”

“You’re coming up on one final private chamber. If he’s not?—”

The room was dark, but not dark enough I couldn’t make out the form of a male sleeping beneath a silvery sheet. His red hair splayed out across one pillow and the pale circular markings down his wide face and the slits at his throat identified him clearly enough.

“Here.”

I’d barely finished the word before the door burst open. Crux slammed his fist on the control panel, flooding the room with light.

“Wakey, wakey!” he singsonged in his raspy voice.

The male jolted upright, one of his webbed hands flying to his blaster, but Crux was already on him, pinning his arms as the male flopped wildly.

“No, no, no, no,” he whimpered over and over, his voice a strange warble.