Behind her, Vic coughed. “I never get used to the air here.”
“You do … eventually,” Malik replied. “If you grow up in Melor as I did.”
“I’ve always liked the smell,” Jenna admitted, pulling up the hood of her cloak. Melor would be full of Mir-Ferrin soldiers; it was best to be careful. “It goes with the red earth and the heat.”
They climbed the steps out of the landing crater and stepped out onto a covered walkway that led between terminals. There were freighters everywhere, most of them Mir-Ferrin these days, docked in the surrounding craters.
Melor spaceport was huge—a sprawling collection of low-slung, circular buildings made of dusty red stone. It took them a while to navigate their way, under covered walkways, from the private landing bays to the arrivals terminal.
They’d all donned cloaks, and Vic had draped Obsidian in a dark blue cloak that matched his own, disguising the droid a little. That was a wise idea, for if a Mir-Ferrin soldier spotted the gleaming black battle-droid, suspicions would be aroused.
As they entered the bustling terminal, Jenna surveyed her surroundings. She’d never actually been inside Melor’s spaceport before, having always traveled off-planet on one of her family’s private shuttles. Polished wine-colored pavers stretched across the wide floor. The musky odor of sweat mingled with the scent of expensive spices and perfumes, and the chatter of many galactic tongues rose high into the steel girders that formed the ceiling inside the terminal.
Various races crowded the space, yet several of the humans inside the terminal were bronze-skinned and dark-haired with violet gazes. Malik indeed blended in here.
Jenna continued to scan the crowd, noting the large groups purchasing tickets or lining up at security. Quite a few citizens appeared to be leaving Idral—and she guessed that many of them would be Mir-Brennans intent on escaping Mir-Ferrin rule.
As they headed for the exit, Jenna spied figures clad in gleaming bronze and black, weaving through the crowd.
Mir-Ferrin soldiers.
A banner hung from the rafters at the far end of the terminal. It bore the Mir-Ferrin clan insignia: a crescent moon and twin crossed blades.
Heat ignited in the pit of Jenna’s belly, outrage flooding through her.
They don’t belong here.
Her clan had ruled Idral peacefully for the last fifty years. The planet’s inhabitants had welcomed the Mir-Brennans, after the brutal Mir-Ferrin regime, and had prospered under their influence. This planet was part of the Mir-Brennan free market collective these days, and its location on a busy trade route had helped it thrive. Hundreds of thousands of colonists from Staturine II had settled on the planet over the decades. They’d brought business and expertise with them and had integrated swiftly with the local population.
Despite that they always took bodyguards with them whenever they left the tower, Jenna and her family had always been able to wander the labyrinthine streets of Idral’s towns without fear for their safety.
Until the attack, Idral had been the Mir-Brennan clan seat. Her grandfather had built the tower as a symbol of his clan’s strength and influence.
It seemed unthinkable that the Mir-Ferrins had seized it.
Jaw clenched, Jenna followed her companions out of Melor spaceport and stepped once more into the baking heat of an Idralian afternoon.
It was blindingly hot, so much so that she found herself gasping for breath as her body adjusted to it. She’d just spent the last week in space, with a brief sojourn upon a bitterly cold moon; Idral’s heat came as a shock in comparison. Underneath her cloak, Jenna had donned a tank top and cargo pants, and like her male companions, she wore heavy combat boots. Sweat was already starting to trickle between her shoulder blades, although the cloak protected her from the biting sunlight.
They were on the outskirts of town here, and there was little in the way of shade. The sun shone so brightly upon the squat sandstone buildings and hard-packed earth that they seemed to glow red. Jenna’s eyes started to water.
She lifted her chin, her gaze alighting on a collection of intricately carved rust-colored spires that rose above the rooftops, piercing the pale pink sky. The Temple to Jidea sat at the heart of Melor and was visible from every corner of the town. As a gesture of goodwill, the first colonists from Staturine II had financed the building of this temple soon after settling here.
“I know a quiet hotel in the center,” Vic announced, slowing his stride so that he walked alongside Jenna. Like Malik, he carried a rucksack hung over one shoulder. “I don’t usually bother to book ahead when I stay there … shall we see if they’ve got a suite available?”
“Sounds good,” Jenna replied. “Let’s see if we can reserve one for a few days, at least.”
“We’ll also need to hire a couple of hoppers for the ride out to the tower,” Malik added. He walked a few strides ahead of them, his hooded gaze sweeping the street, while Obsidian brought up the rear. “There’s a place in the northern ward that’ll hire them out without any questions.”
“Do we need ones with side-cars to carry passengers on the way back?” Vic asked.
Jenna shook her head. “There are hoppers parked in a bay at the outer door ofThe Passage.” Although she’d never been inside the escape tunnel, her father had described it to her. “Cathal, Isla, and Bea will be able to take one.”
Vic nodded, apparently satisfied by her answer.
Jenna cast him a sidelong look, taking in his profile, shadowed by the cowl of his cloak. So far, she’d been wary of the cyborg—had braced herself to be double-crossed by him—but he’d gotten them safely to Idral and was asking all the right questions.
Maybe he and Obsidian were trustworthy after all.
