“Mostly,” I said.
His expression softened. “That counts.”
He looked around again, taking in the half-repaired damage, the smoke-stained walls, and the people watching from the shadows. “We intercepted the raiders’ distress signal. Found the wreckage down in the southern valley. What’s left of them won’t be trouble again.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He waved it off. “You made my job easier. You always do.”
I hesitated. “And the Council?”
“They know you exist,” he said. “They also know that pretending not to is politically convenient. So, officially…” He glanced at Veklan. “…this place doesn’t exist.”
“Unofficially?” Veklan asked.
“Unofficially,” Raven said, “you have my protection and a very quiet supply line. Food, medicine, power cells. No flags, no visits, no speeches.”
Veklan exhaled, a sound half laugh, half relief. “Then we live, and you get plausible deniability.”
“That’s the deal,” Raven said. “Fair trade, considering the mess the rest of the world still is.”
He turned back to me. “You’ve given them something the war never did—an example. Mesaarkan and human, building something together. Maybe the Council will catch on in another fifty years.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d built this place to hide, not to inspire. But looking around at the faces—Mara teachingchildren how to bind wounds, humans and Mesaarkans side by side repairing the hydro systems—it struck me that he might be right.
“Peace was never meant to be easy,” I said.
Raven smiled. “No. But it looks better on you than war ever did.”
He gestured toward the waiting ship. “I’ll send word to Vyken Dark—tell him the Colorado settlement is secure. He’ll sleep easier knowing you’re still teaching humans how to fix the world.”
“Tell him the world’s teaching us, too,” I said.
Raven’s gaze flicked past me to where Lina stood at the terrace’s edge, speaking with the children. The wind caught her hair, scattering the sunlight across it. “So that’s her,” he said quietly. “The courier who turned a deserter into a diplomat.”
“Something like that,” I said.
He laughed once. “Good. The galaxy could use more of that.”
While they had been talking, a droid unloaded two pallets of supplies and left them on the ground behind the flyer, then returned to the cargo bay.
The cyborg touched his wrist pad, and a light flared on the ship’s hull. “You’ll hear from me before the next cycle. Keep your people safe, Rygnar.”
“And you.”
He nodded, donned his helmet, and strode back toward the ship. A moment later, the engines roared to life, kicking up snow and grit. The vessel lifted, banked once over the valley, and vanished into the clouds.
Silence returned, softer this time.
Lina joined me at the edge of the terrace. “He’s impressive.”
“He’s dangerous,” I said. “And fair.”
“That’s rare.”
“Raven learned both from hard places.”
She studied the sky where the ship had vanished. “So, we’re official now? Sort of?”
