Author - one to the one to the one to the three.
Pa tre on - Deluxee
****
The secure room was quieter than the battle it had been built to discuss.
Grok's after-action feed sat over the table in clean layers: mouth engagement, pocket collapse, boarding losses, the one Tusk-class that had punched out, then the fall of the forward system. Reza had already watched it twice and made notes each time about whatever it is he has seen. Torv was somewhat fascinated with the ground combat power that the Varanki had shown but also grimaced at their tactics meanwhile Atii stood with her arms folded, eyes on the fighter counts while Jaster watched everything in silence with a tilted head.
"They broke rather easily, however if they had known we outrange them so they might have utilised a different tactic or tried for a diversion which would have costed us dearly." Reza said.
"Their navy is worse than the early scans made it look," I said. "Short range guns and weaker shields. But they do have the sheer numbers and as they have shown their smaller craft are still as fast as our ones, maybe a bit slower but only by a slight margin.'
Jaster exhaled heavily and made a low sound. "Disappointing."
"In space," Torv said. He tapped the plaza feed without enlarging it. "On the ground they were not disappointing they are definitely more suited for ground combat and boarding action, if lead properly. They are stronger than our militia line and more numerous, faster in a straight rush and stronger with a zealous almost fanatical mentality causing them to fight to the death and through grievous wounds. They may be a bit stupid about doors but still, even if the relatively small number of boarders it was hard to stop them, not to mention if someone competent is actually leading them. The ones who froze in the warehouse froze because they walked into a hundred thousand blasters, even that would give them a pause but put those same troops in a city with a commander who can think past the next roar and they would cost us dearly, especially so if they are already entrenched and fighting on home soil."
This. This might have been the longest I have heard Torv speak outside of when he was drunk or talking about blasters.
Atii nodded once. "Their small craft were the real problem. Fighters, bombers, those boarding shuttles. They closed faster than expected, and were even giving Vultures a tough fight."
"Their weird hyperdrive," Lira said grimacing. "That's the part I don't like, it should be impossible to jump out of a system so far away from a hyperspace lane, not to mention in unknown regions where things are unpredictable, whatever it was also tore their ship apart to get them out."
Grok's voice came from the holo, flat as the rest of the report. "Correct. Conventional fleet performance is inferior, boarding and ground infantry is dangerous even if they are left without clear command structure and the drive that extracted the command hull is the strategic exception not normalcy."
"What about the status of the occupation?" I asked.
"There have been some difficulties," Grok answered. "Warrior remnants are still active in three districts and one secondary moon. Some have refused surrender terms entirely. A number have killed their own households rather than be taken as hostages. Others have used children as carriers in attacks on patrol droids. Administrative and technological caste collaborators are present and increasing, concentrated in the capital and the port authority. They are enforcing stand-down orders where they still have reach. However, like the warrior caste, some others have refused and are hindering our efforts."
Elara's mouth tightened. "And the civilians?"
"Mixed. Some hid. Some fought. Some are already working as informants. Cooperation is mostly transactional."
Reza leaned back. "So we have a foothold, and information about some weird hyperdrive we don't understand, and a whole part of a species that will rather kill themselves and their family than surrender."
"Yes," I said. "Before anyone starts drawing the next arrows on the map and throwing droids at the problem, we should probably read through all the information we have gotten on them from their systems."
****
Grok brought the occupation board up over the battle map.
The captured system had a name now, taken from their own traffic markers. Velsha. One primary world, two settled moons, a thin industrial belt, but a sizable amount of asteroid fields littered with minerals and resources, it looked small next to the original Elyrian sector.
"Control is holding in the capital, both ports, and the lane spires," Grok said. "However, due to certain factors it is not holding everywhere, there are still sizable warrior remnants that are still fighting in three districts and on the inner moon. With their tactics as they are and with the preliminary information that has been gathered through interogation they are not trying to retake the system as they know it is futile, they are trying to make occupation expensive and bleed us until the inevitable retaliatory attack begins."
"Some units have killed their households rather than surrender as you already know. Others have sent children into patrol routes with charges. Administrative and technological collaborators numbers are 3374 and 1884 respectively and climbing with only around 12 warrior caste.
Elara's hands stayed flat on the table. "How many children?"
"Confirmed incidents, forty-one, one of which resulted in two grounded Vultures to be destroyed, I have started the building of reinforced garrisons and each patrol has been increased and they have also doubled in scale.
She nodded once and did not thank him.
Reza moved the board to yield. "What does Velsha actually give us?"
Grok slid some things on his holo and a massive statistic board and multiple maps popped up.
A large labour pool to draw from, industrial gases in the outer belt, enough to matter supply nearby systems and possible export once refineries are up and running. Some common metals like Alusteel and Durasteel and some rarer trace ores in the moon crust, nothing that would necessitate me to rewrite the whole of Elyrian economy but it is a nice catch.
There were some ship hulls both working and those needing to be fixed at the main port, crude by our standard but all of them could be refitted with better systems and hardware and they will be good to go, now taxes? IRS's favourite word but alas the tax base existed on paper but had been skimmed for years by warriors and port captains whatever they had in their banks is gone, all of them seemed to under report and try any way to not pay, how this civilization is even up is a fucking miracle.
So we don't even know the standard baseline of what we could expect in taxes for the next quarter.
"Annual extractable value, if order holds and the collaborator offices keep collecting, could be measured in at least a few million credits worth," he said. "It will be almost enough to pay for upkeep of this sector and some improvements."
"Elyria needs ships," I said. "We still have gaps in our territory where pirates and others slither through. What we lack are crews and hulls but we if we take the ships we acquired we would need to give Grok more ships anyway so we send over materials for retrofit and have him absorb the Varanki ships."
Reza understood before I finished. "Another transfer then, this time of excess weapons and components. At least we won't have to give up more ships.
I mean the Varanki Ships are bulky with big cannons that are weak for their size so if we give them a makeover with even 3rd rate shit we will still gut the Varanki at range but in close quarter combat we would be doomed.
****
Grok then proceeded to put up a long, long ass document.
"Approximately twelve hundred years ago a ship came down on their homeworld of Ghisa Prime," he said. The image that replaced Velsha was old even by the standards of the file: a half-buried hull in a dry river basin, ribs exposed, local stone piled against the breach as if later generations had tried to turn the crash into a shrine and then a quarry. "At that time the Varanki were already divided into petty kingdoms or states. The caste division was already long in place. Warrior, administrative, technological with their sources claiming they have had a caste system for roughly three thousand years already by that point."
I leaned on the table and let him talk and others also started paying more attention.
History, regardless of who's it is will always be popular.
"The strongest kingdom reached the site first. They did not understand the ship at first but knew it was important, filled with things non of their species saw before and more importantly, they understood that their neighbours did not have it. Over two generations they stripped what they could, rebuilt what they could, and reverse engineered weapons and various systems to break the other and subjugate them, they didn't erase the different distinctions that were between the kingdoms instead it's as if they wanted them to live and see their cultures being beneath theirs.
Records from that period are boastful and incomplete.
Lira had a note open and was not writing yet. "And the ship itself?"
"Unknown origin, though what we could garner from their descriptions and data points to a heavy freighter hull from Koensayr Manufacturing. They used it as a proof that the void could be crossed by those strong enough to deserve it."
He moved the image. Ghisa Prime from orbit, then a chain of poorer worlds strung through bad space, the lanes between them marked as much by wrecks as by routes.
"Expansion has been slow because their location in the unknown regions, even if they had better hyperdive and technology the shifting lanes and other frequent anomalies gives a pause even to the Empire and Republic before it. They have spent twelve hundred years pushing outward slowly mainly in their small somewhat stable sectorial cluster. Though most of their planetary acquisitions came from the same method as they used in the unification of their planet first kingdom. Through sheer brutality and stubbornness, first journeys were made with sublight engines and having crew live on the ship for years until they arrive, only later did they figure out how to cryofreeze and then actual hyperdrive.
As for their technology it usually went like this :find a wreck, an old station, a merchant who jumped wrong, a smuggler who thought the region was empty. Then they would take it apart try and fail reverse engineer it, do it poorly and call it a day then only marginally improve upon it at a slow pace. They have little to no original scientific advancements, what they do invent is usually a worse copy of something they already stole or something that is very antiqued by our standards."
Reza was watching the ship silhouettes beside the history. "That matches their weapon systems."
"It matches most of their fleet," Grok said. "Hulls thickened because they lose ships to their own space and the weapons they use against eachother require hulls to be thicker due to their shield technology being subpar. Their engines are oversized but underpowered. Although their fighters and smaller craft are most impressive with good weapons and engine. The boarding shuttles are probably the best space fearing ship they have, with best weapons, armour and shielding. Afterall, they know their strength lies in number and in close quarters, it's also part of their warrior culture where they wish to fight up close and personal.
Atti looked curious "What about that weird hyperdrive jump they did? Did you find any information on that?
Groks photoreceptors flashed as if in delight before pulling a different information on screen.
"I am glad you asked, it is fascinating. They call it a Jump Drive, it does not use a mapped hyperlane. It makes a chain of short jumps toward coordinates set before the burn, each jump small enough to reduce the chance of intersecting a mass like stars, planets or black holes and other anomalies. In practice it is a way to leave from the wrong place and arrive at a place they have already measured. The Mother of Ash used it to exit the pocket. Although the cost was immediate and immense. Outages, internal explosions, structural stress. Their own technicians pray before the jump, it is usually fitted to a command ship, though it seems there is a size requirement, take ISD-1 for example, the same jump would put that ship in dock for at least two weeks, assuming the hull survived. The design can be improved upon in time if enough research. testing hulls of considerable size are supplied. However, I doubt we have spare ISD-1 lying around."
From what I can see on the holo Grok used quite a lot of his considerable computing power to work out that within a time period of 230-500 years the Varanki would have made a stable Jump Drive by themselves, or faster if someone else happened upon it.
Why no one bothered to make a Jump Drive? Simple, there was no need to with Hyperspace lanes and jumps being the only way to travel for more than couple millennia, it is also fast, cheap and comfortable with only upgrades being made to the actual hyperdive and engines along with fuel. Not developing a different hyperdrive or mode of transport never occurred to anyone because in everyone's mind hyperspace travel is the only way to travel.
Torv grunted. "So we either take it from them or we wait until more of their captains gift them to us"
"Yes."
Elara who was a bit quiet was looking intensly at some documents when she looked up at Grok "In this file you said that they had evidence of subjugating other species but we have not seen a single one, not even as a slave"
"Two," Grok said. "Both more primitive by their own measure. Cheap slave labour, tribute, restricted settlement. Around three hundred years ago a powerful Varanki faction tried to leave the central throne and carve out its own nation on several outer worlds. They promised those subject peoples better standing if they fought for them. The war was long and utterly brutal, the faction lost. Afterward the winning side, filled with blood lust, rage and injured pride did not stop when the enemy armies and fleets were shattered, they utterly wiped out that Varanki bloodline and ethnicity, even those that fought with them and both subject peoples with it. Modern Varanki histories call it a necessary culling. Though most lament not the loss of life but the loss of cheap labour and slaves.
Grok then showed some archival footage and god damn, he was not kidding. Entire continents were ablaze and cities were laid to waste by the dozen over the span of 13 years roughly 2.1 billion died, mostly coming from the later extermination.
"Under all of that, even centuries after the first unification the people who conquered the world still are treated as citizen of higher class and usually are in the highest offices for all three of the castes. With civil wars and violent unrests being common enough that their ground defences are built to crush their own rather than face a planetary invasion.
I watched the shrine-yard image come back, the buried ribs and the stone piled against them apparently they believe in the spirits of their ancestors and that they guided the first shipwreck to the homeworld, I wonder how would they react if they seen an Executor or the Death Star?
If they would see Starkiller base I think they would pass out from bloodloss gushing out of their noses.
"Belief?"
Lira was the first to find her voice. "If most of what they have is copied, how much of the Jump Drive is actually theirs? What if it's from another ship they found, it is possible that a species further in the unknown regions developed it and they found it and proclaimed its theirs."
I nodded at that, it is highly possible though it scares me.
But it also excites me.
If we get a different way to traverse the galaxy we would be untouchable, I could do whatever the fuck I want, maybe even discover planets that are not covered in hyperlanes but are located nearby? What if there is another system near Coruscant but no one discovered it for millennia because a hyperlane was not connected to it? It would change everything, but not everyone likes change.
Especially those manufacturing magnates, they would kill the idea in its infancy before they let another form of travel develop because then they would get a new sort of competition.
But no matter, the more the meeting dragged on the more we learned about the Varanki, they have only few dozen systems but they are all densely populated with around 320 billion, somewhat medium in terms of resources and not many super rare materials or resources, what they do have a lot of is gas giants which would be ripe for harvest should we deploy refineries on them, approximates of their remaining navy is in the thousands and their ground forces in the millions.
Some would get anxious at those numbers, especially since their warriors are bat shit fucking crazy, but nah.
I'd win.
But right now I am in fact loosing. Loosing to my tiredness, Grok turned into his teacher mode and is droning something about productivity quotas in sub sector whatever the fuck.
I sigh knowing even when this is done I still gotta call up the Pykes.
****
Few hour later after some lunch and a strong coffee I decided to take the Pyke call from the side office the one with the newly installed foot heaters because winters in Elyria are fucking brutal as I have learnt living here for two years.
I took a sip and put my cup down just as the holo resolved on a thin man in a high-collared gray coat, skin the pale green-gray of his species, eyes set in the long Pyke face and half-lidded as if the connection bored him. Gold thread at the cuffs, studded with some precious stones while an absolutely hideous scar ran from the corner of his mouth toward the jaw with clear signs of skin grafting. Behind him was a counting room rather than a den: crates under tally strips, two clerks with their heads down, a licensed shipping seal on the wall that I had signed myself eight months ago for the legal side of their busines.
"Moff Voss," he said. "Venn Sarr. You have my afternoon."
"That's the idea. I heard you wanted a straight talk before your next shipment cycle."
Sarr's mouth moved, not quite a smile. "We still have the port lease on Elyria's secondary docks and the bonded warehouse at Havenridge east. Spice under the medical and chemical licenses, volumes as agreed. The open cargo is textiles, machine parts, and preserved food moving through your new systems on the northern edge."
"The lease stays as long as the crates match the manifests and your people stop paying my inspectors on the side to let cargo through that we have not agreed on. I had two of new inspector moved last month, they were new but still."
"I heard." He did not apologize. "I have instructed my men to stop trying to line their pocket with extra goods or attempting bribery, it has somewhat slowed us by a day on the east dock. It is however acceptable, if the alternative is you tearing up the partnership, we are not the Black Suns, we know how to appreciate a good trading partner.."
We went through the legitimate side of the business, he moved Elyrian foodstufs, processed ore and manufacturing goods outward far away from us where our things would be considered exotic or otherwise sold at a high price, while in return he has been bringing back refined chemicals and high quality components, top quality medical supplies and anything else our administrative and logistical department add to the list.
Margins were dull and steady, with incremental increases but they were safe. However the real benefit for me is not some more credits, even if it is welcome. It is their gigantic pull on the black markets of the entire galaxy, I get information from them, illegal stuff that the Empire would frown on openly procuring or would get me investigated and as an intermediatary to procure other illegal things because, lets be honest the Pykes have been around and made connection.
I meanwhile am 17 with almost no connections, if we need a bulk order of rather advanced droids that we dont have schematics for? We ask the Pykes if they have them on sale or if they can get in contact with them on our behalf so we can buy them.
I had given them the lanes Black Sun used in this and surrounding sectors and they have made good use of it moving things to and from, but on the condition that the spice volume would not star an absolute drug pandemic and no to sell to children and pregnant, if they have any distributors that knowingly do so they are to either take care of them or report it to me so that I can have Rusty and his not so friendly clanka squad to take care of them.
I made it abundantly clear I will not tolerate a second shadow government under me, I dont want some no name Pyke enforcer starting a petty debauched kingdom in my ports or for them to start a gang war or some stupid thing like that..
So far they had kept to it, the illegal half sat under the same roof: unlicensed stimulant overage hidden inside the chemical lots, a quiet trade in deactivated security droids, and the occasional crate of restricted goods like weapons that never quite made the manifest. I knew about all three. He knew I knew. The arrangement was that the overage stayed small, the droids stayed deactivated until they cleared my space, and the weapons did not end up on a pirate hull with my sector stamp anywhere near the packing.
At least they stayed true to my no slavery policy, even making an example of a small lieutenant of his three weeks ago who tried to dabble in slave trade.
Hearing someone try to scream with no lungs was certainly one hell of a message to receive first thing in the morning.
"Business is healthy," Sarr said. "Healthier than under the Falleen. They charged more and delivered less, then still went around backstabbing everyone and then crying how unfair it is. My cousins still mention that when they drink. Apparently the Falleen have lost face as a result and are trying damage control, although they are not that angry at you, more so at the younger generation and the side branches that have always been more unruly."
"Good. I didn't call to be thanked." I rested a hand on the desk. "Rumors. I need to know if there is anything circling around about me, about Elyria, about the people around me. Anything your crews are hearing in other ports or information that was posted on the blackmarket."
He was for a while, looking down presumably at a datapad trying to look anything up. "Less than you might fear. The common talk is that the boy Moff got some hairs on his balls now with the addition of Star Destroyers and that they are waiting for you to start bleeding your neighbours to fund the acquisition of other Star Destroyers like a typical Moff would. But traders and merchants also like that Black Sun does not own your docks but are still present for any backroom deals, makes it all more clean and safe. A shipping agent from a rather large conglomerate on the Hydian side asked peculiar questions about tourism and 'Elyrian red beauties.' apparently he has gotten very fascinated with the red skin of Elyrians and is planning a grand procession here to visit but most likely he wants to find another mistress."
"And the less common talk?"
"A clerk in a Moff's household two sectors west has tried to find out any an all information about your past and to people close to you, paying extra for anything relating to any merchants and people of importance, stopped immediately once it was revelaed you have active correspondance with both Thrawn and Palleaon. Separately, a freighter captain out of the old Vordax lanes claimed your Mandalorians are savages and that he wants all of Mandalorian culture as a whole to dissapear, he has been funding a small and yet to be successful smear campaign against you and Mandalorians."
Sarr tilted his head. "Nothing about assassins, or planned strikes or even a notice on the Bounty Hunter Guild. Nothing about your admiral, your aide, or the girl who flies the new assault ship. If someone is paying for those names, they are not paying in Pyke docks."
"Any residual Black Sun activity from the branches giving me or you trouble?"
"For us, mostly noise. A few attempts to burn warehouses with one succeeding but it was mostly just textiles, a standing offer from a Falleen cousin operatin near Eridau who wants the Elyrian lease back under his branch this time and does not enjoy hearing no, expect to hear from him soon. They have not put a price on your head that I have seen. They have put some small rewards on hassling and ruining the reputation of your ports or delaying cargo, a rumour of tainted grain that did not go anywhere."
He exhales as if half disappointed "Petty to the bone with the main group not even bothering about them.." He spread one long hand. "If they escalate, it will probably be over, with their heads on their way to your palace before you even learnt anything happened."
Damn, he is more reliable than those other two.
"See that it stays that way."
Now for something that I promised to ask for Grok.
"Different question do you have any old Separatist stock? Like ships and droids? My territory is large and we still dont have enough ship to plug up all the holes or crew the ships I could use the mostly automated CIS ships and droid labour and stopgap measure to crew the ships. If you have any sitting in storage, I will pay a fair price and I will not ask which yard you stole them from."
That did get a real look. Appraising, not surprised. "We have some. Not a fleet. Two Lucrehulk-scale frame sections that will never fly again and are only good as warehouses, cheaper to dismantle them into scrap and buy ships with them, if you want them they would need to be towed to wherever you want them to go, unless you got 2 Lucrehulk engines on hand? A handful of smaller CIS freighters, still whole, drives questionable. Battle droids in crates, mixed condition, mostly B1s, a few heavier frames someone was saving for a buyer who never came. I can have counts in three days. If you want more than that, I can ask along the network. Some kept trophies after the Clone Wars and have been paying storage fees ever since."
"Ask. I'll take the freighters and the droids if they're complete enough to refit I dont need the Lucrehulks, I dont need flying warehouses that can't even move on their own.
"Understood." Sarr glanced off-holo, already counting. "Consultation of that kind usually carries a fee. Even when the consultation is a favour."
Of course, greedy fuck. But it is expected if you are good at something fleece whoever wants your services.
I had the transfer ready and sent.
"For the consultation and information," I said. "Not for the goods. The goods get a separate bill."
"Then we understand each other." He folded his hands. "I will have the inventory both the Pyke and others and the rumour sheet, such as it is, within the week."
"I'll hold you to that."
The holo died.
I sat with what he had actually given me. Thankfully he gave me nothing that forced me back into that fucking secure room again with my merry band of misfits.
I stood, stretched and decided the rest of the day could be spent somewhere that did not involve a holo table or datapads. The palace guard gym was under the east wing. I had not been down there in weeks, and I had no interest in ending up shaped like Darnis.
****
I took the east stairs down toward the guard gym because the lifts were full of clerks, and because I wanted the walk. Halfway along the residence corridor I met Orlen's wife coming the other way with their daughter.
"Moff Voss."
"Madam. Heading to lessons?"
"Tutors," she said. "We keep to the residence wing. It's quieter." Her hand rested on the girl's shoulder and stayed there. "She's doing well. We're all doing well."
The girl looked at the floor. Her mother kept the smile in place and did not quite meet my eyes after the first second. I could have asked whats clearly wrong but I didn't. Whatever she was holding down, it was not a conversation for a corridor with palace staff passing behind us, plus I doubt she would say it to me.
"If the tutors need anything, tell Harlan," I said. "You don't have to go through the duty desk."
"You're kind." The word came out thin. "Thank you."
They went on. I waited until the corner took them, then sent Rusty a short note on the private channel. Orlen's wife. Residence wing. She's frightened of something and saying she is fine. Look quietly. Don't scare the girl.
The lift to the gym level opened on two guards already inside, armour plates off, towels over their shoulders. One was older, bored, and kind of familiar. The other was new, helmet under his arm, ears red and eyes filled with nervousness and awe. "Governor," the older one said.
"Don't. You're off the clock." I nodded at the recruit. "First month?"
"Yes, sir. Third week."
"Then breathe. Thorn doesn't bite unless you give him a reason." I clapped him once on the shoulder as the doors opened. He jolted, then managed a nod that was almost a person. "Go hit something. It helps."
The gym under the east wing smelled of mats, oil, and the sharp clean of the sonic showers running in the side rooms. Racks of practice blades and blasters along one wall. Weight stacks along the other. A handful of off-duty guards at the far end, not spotting me yet.
Atii was on the open mat.
She had her hair tied up, a few strands stuck to her neck, training shirt dark along the back and under the arms. Bare feet and practice knife already in one hand, the other rolling her shoulder out after a set. I stopped at the wall and meant only to watch the form.
The line of her back and the way her weight sat when she reset. Then she bent to stretch, palms to the mat, and I felt the heat climb my throat so fast I had to look at the blade rack instead.
When I looked back she was upright again, head tipped, watching me over her shoulder. The smile was small and pleased with itself. Her eyes had gone narrow.
"You can come in," she said. "The wall doesn't need guarding."
"I was giving you space."
"You were staring."
"I was assessing your form."
"Mm." She tossed me a practice knife, hilt first. "Assess it closer."
We circled. She was faster at the start, the way she always was, testing the wrist, the off hand, the habit I still had of dropping my shoulder before a cut. I stopped doing that.
Months of her relentless drills and the few fights I have seen and my first battle had finally stuck somewhere in my beautiful cranium under all these meetings.
She pressed and I gave ground, and then I didn't. A bind, a step inside, my foot behind her ankle. She went down hard enough to bounce. I followed, knee on the mat beside her hip, the dull edge of the practice knife against the side of her neck.
Both of us were breathing like we'd run the stairs. Sweat at her hairline with my pulse in my ears.
Her eyes were wide. Not hurt but pleasantly surprised, and then something else, hotter, that she tried to blink away.
"That hasn't happened in a while," I said. Kind of happy I managed to beat her ass even if I spend all my days in meetings and she in the gym or sparring yard.
"Don't get too proud." She rolled her eyes as she said that.
I started to shift off her but the little gremlin used it to her advantage. With a twist of her hips, a hand on my shoulder, and then the mat hit my back. She came down over me, knees on either side of my ribs, one hand planted by my head, but at one point the knife flew off somewhere.
Up close she smelled like clean sweat and the soap that smelled like apples and something distinctively her. A strand of hair had come loose and stuck to her cheek. She was flushed all the way down her throat. I could feel the heat of her through the shirt, and my own face was hopeless.
We didn't move. Her gaze dropped to my mouth and came back up. Mine did the same and got caught. She leaned in until her breath touched my lip, and every thought I had about wars and ports and sealed rooms went somewhere else.
I breathed out and also leaned up when a whistle cut across the gym.
Then another, and few more all coming from the direction of the door.
"Recruits can wait two minutes for their training lessons," someone called, delighted. "Or we can reschedule later if we are interrupting. Governor."
Oh fuck up you smug little shit...
Atii was off me so fast the mat rocked. I sat up, coughed into my fist, and did not look at the doorway.
"I have a merchant coming in from the Core," I said. My voice was not convincing. "I should go."
"Foundlings," she said, already grabbing her stuff. She still wouldn't quite look at me, except once, sideways, the smugness gone and in its stead an awkward almost shy smile. "I'm late."
We took different side exits. I heard one of the guards laugh joined after by others. In the corridor my hands were unsteady and my mouth was a bit dry.
I did not have a merchant.
And I know she does not teach foundlings today.
Behind me the gym door shut, and Elyria's Moff went upstairs to stand in a fresher until his face did not have the same colour as native Elyrians.