The Trial of the Ghost

Chapter 12: 23 O'Clock at the Warehouse

Kra reveled in the feeling of wind against her bare skin. It felt otherworldly. She chuckled to herself then did a flip just because there was no one counting on her, no one expecting something of her, no one needing her somewhere.

She had this window until anyone needed her.

She did another and whooped because she could and it felt so, so good. This was excellent. This was where she belonged.

Her parents would be overjoyed she finally had gone flying for herself. They would say it had been too long. She really did need to do this more. Maybe she should ask her friends to cover for her more often….

Kra slowed down and sighed, hovering miles above the ocean west of Lywolf, Alaarn Sea. Her friends would disagree, as would her parents, but it was hard to remember to take time for herself when she had all these powers.

She wanted to help everyone she could, after all she had the power to do so, and every moment she wasn’t out there, someone was getting hurt and she could have prevented it.

Taking time off felt like failing.

She wondered if she could unlearn it. If she would even try. Wanting to unlearn it felt like becoming a bad person.

Kra sighed. This was supposed to be time off. She was supposed to have fun. She couldn’t do everything, she knew that. She was only one person- Troan- person- whatever. She was only one being and saving the world by herself was too tall a task, even for her magic. And even if she tried, she’d break. Powerful magic didn’t make her invincible to burnout.

She did know that.

She swore she did.

Kra tilted her head to the sun and soaked in the light. She lifted her arms to stretch, but her eyes caught on her bare skin.

Dark blue skin littered with tiny white dots and black fingernails. In an instant, she was unlocking her phone and put her camera in reverse.

When had this happened? When had her brown hair and eyes both turned silver? When had her wings sprouted on her back?

When had she switched into her Troan form?

“Mom? Dad?” she asked, knowing they were listening.

“Yes, Kra?” Orjel’s voice came from her phone.

“I’m out flying without any protection. Do you think you could take care of any satellites and photos?”

“We’re on it,” Ralehal promised.

“Are you alright?” Orjel asked.

Kra heard the question in her voice. What happened to make you fly undisguised? “I’m fine,” Kra assured her. “My friends are covering for me tonight. I… I do have a mission later. Didn’t I mention this at dinner earlier?”

“Nope!” Ralehal informed her brightly

“I think you forgot,” Orjel said gently.

“Right,” Kra said. Maybe the burnout was already here. Maybe she should call in sick at work tomorrow and just sleep. “I’m going on a spy mission later that needs all my concentration.” She knew she wouldn’t. “Oth is patrolling Emlytos tonight and Anaid is training Golden Eagle.” Could she count it as progress if she only thought it? “They’ll likely need a portal home, so keep an eye out for that too, please.”

“We’re on it, Kra,” Orjel assured her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Enjoy your flight.”

“I will,” Kra said, then stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

She looked down again, looking at her reflection.

She didn’t take out her Troan form often, her true form. What she really was. Her human looking form, that was the disguise.

The blue, that was how Troans had evolved, and since Tro had been such a naturally magical planet, they had evolved for magic to power their cells rather than ATP. They’d evolved to make their own magic inside themselves and convert light to magic. They’d evolved to only eat plants and animals to extract the magic in them.

They’d once had wings. The wings hadn’t been powerful, but their magic had lined every muscle and sinew when they’d used them, allowing them to soar into the sky than should have been possible. Once their powers got stronger, the wings had become unnecessary and they’d evolved to lose them.

Still, in this form, Kra had two little bumps on her back where they’d once been. Still, her power remembered where it was supposed to go to support the wings. That hadn’t faded evolutionarily yet, even though she could fly without burning the magic.

She didn’t use wings often, they absorbed too much power to be practical, but they were pretty. Gorgeous even. She did love them, even though she recalled the magic that formed them back into her body. She’d need it for the mission later. She couldn’t afford to spend it all now.

The mission. She’d be back in her human body under her costume. She always used her human body as the Ghost.

Troans had evolved that secondary form when the excess of magic on their planet formed Alarite. Suddenly, there had been a sharp decrease, not enough to survive on. Until they’d evolved the ability to generate their own magic, they’d evolved a secondary form that was built to survive on what was found in nature: ATP, molecules, atoms. The secondary form could survive on just magic, but a lot less than the primary one. A little magic wasn’t the same thing as a little ATP.

Magic was worth so much more.

She needed that advantage as a superhero who operated at night and covered herself entirely from the light.

Kra studied the white freckles on her face, like constellations at night, in the sea below. Should she switch back to her human form? Should she conserve power for tonight?

Kra looked back up at the sun.

If she stayed on this side of the world for a while, she could build up a store in the light. Besides, the wind felt so good. She didn’t want to cover up. She wanted to be out in the daylight. If she was flying without a mask, this form was safer. No one could connect it to Kra N’tek.

She didn’t look like Kra N’tek like this.

She didn’t look human.

She looked alien.

But wasn’t that the whole point? She wasn’t human. If she was a human, she wouldn’t be able to help as many people as she did. She was different… other.

Her people had once had wings.

Humans had never had that.

She may have been raised as a daughter of the land, but first and foremost, she was a creature of the sky.

Different. Other.

Not human.

Kra smiled. No, she was not human. On the land, she played human as best she could. Sometimes, she could convince herself she wasn’t that different. In the sky, she tore that away. Sometimes, she could convince herself embracing it was the key to happiness.

After all, she got to fly. No humans did.

So she’d fly and if someone saw her, they would not think of Kra N’tek. This was how she was safe. How her adoptive family stayed alive.

Kra laughed to herself. Kra. Cael. Kra. Cael. Who she was was not a mystery to puzzle out tonight. Tonight, she was going to embrace the wind and the clouds and the sun and just fly without a care in the world.

Alien. Human. Alien. Human. That didn’t matter in the sky. In the sky, she was free. It was beautiful. Truly.

And she had hours here before she needed to go back.

Really, her friends were fantastic.

She needed to thank them when she next saw them.

Allelosin paced and paced and paced. It was a minute until they were supposed to leave and she wasn’t there. Where was the Ghost? Had she been held up? Was she in trouble? Could Corla hack into the city’s security cameras? Could she track the Ghost, see where she was? Would it be insane to make that request of her?

Answers: no idea, probably, probably not, absolutely, most likely, and one hundred percent.

Los glanced at his watch. Twenty-five seconds, a quarter of a minute left. This was ridiculous; she was never late.

His fists curled. If she was in trouble…. He didn’t know what to do. Probably save her if he could. But she probably didn’t need it and then his father would know…. He’d know Los-

His alarm went off. 22:75. Once it hit 22:76, the Ghost would officially be late.

Los turned to pace in the other direction when his eyes landed on a familiar hooded figure.

Of course she was alright. Of course. She just had decided to come exactly on time.

He gave what he hoped was a casual grin. “Hey. Having a good night?”

She nodded. “It has been nice so far.” She nodded at his clothes. “You are prepared to go. Good.”

He glanced at his outfit. The black pants, shirt, gloves, shoes, ski mask. The belt with a flashlight, taser, voice recorder, and dart gun with the silencer already on. Luckily, whoever set the fire hadn’t messed with his floor safe. He’d been able to recover all his equipment easily and quietly. Trying to replace those contents quietly would have been an absolute hassle.

“Oh these?” He tried to seem indifferent. “Just some stuff I thought might be useful.”

He would have taken his actual gun, but he had a feeling she’d just make him leave it here. Los wasn’t a stranger to the Ghost’s no killing rule.

“Do you have a license to carry these?”

He scoffed. “Course. I’m not an amateur.” Shit. He set his mask in place. “Idiot, you know. I’m not carrying it. No need for any ID tonight. Especially if we’re captured.”

“That’s unlikely.”

“And it’s unlikely I’ll need a permit for these. You’re not exactly taking me on patrol, are you?”

“No, not this time.”

She sighed, as if remembering the time he’d tagged along for photos. He pulled his mask in place, hiding the grimace. He hadn’t realized how much she hadn’t wanted him to come. How much she probably didn’t want him coming on this one.

“Ready?” she asked, holding out a hand.

Los adjusted his gloves one more time. She didn’t sound mad or annoyed right now. Not for the first time, he wished she showed even a little bit of her face. Then he’d be able to read her better. As expressive as her voice was, it was hard with just that and her body language. She had a nasty habit of constantly holding herself the exact same way. It made it difficult for snoopers like him who wanted to read the changes.

“Ready,” he confirmed, reaching out for her hand.

The moment their gloved hands connected, Kra moved. She’d taken the time the night before to scout a good place to assess the guard situation, so she knew exactly which rooftop to fly to. Half a second later, they were crouched and surveying.

She shifted her eyes. Guards at all door entrances, but none on the roof and minimal patrolling the upper halls. Odd. She adjusted her eyes again and nearly groaned.

“There’s a magical shield around the warehouse,” she whispered to Los. “It’s blocking sound. And spells. Any magic once we’re inside will be detected. That means to some extent, my powers will be useless. Others, not so much. No superspeed or power sharing, but I’ll still be invulnerable.” As long as she relied only on her reserves. No pulling magic from the air. That would disturb it and set off the alarms. “It’ll be harder to get in, but we’ll be okay. Probably.”

“We’ll be okay,” Los assured her.

“I think I can still make a hole in the shield while outside it so we can get in. Can you fall from five feet up?”

“You need to drop me onto the roof?” he asked, his mind calculating what she was thinking. She nodded. “I know how to remain unharmed. I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Once we’re in, let me lead. My transparent vision can be used to a certain extent. It’ll be enough to dodge any guards. If we can get on the rafters and stay quiet, we should be able to hear everything.”

“And getting out?”

“If we’re unseen, I’d suggest waiting until they remove the spell or it dies out on its own. It wasn’t here yesterday, so it’s temporary. If we’re caught, we run and forget about all the alarms.”

“Sounds good,” Los replied. He held out a hand. “Shall we?”

Kra nodded and scooped him into her arms. He sung one of his around her shoulder as she took off into the sky, faster than an eye could comprehend.

“Three,” she counted down, hovering above the roof, only barely staying above the perimeter of the spell. “Two. One.”

She reached out with her mind and magic, then tore. She dropped Los through the brand new hole in the perimeter. She gave him five seconds before she disengaged her flight powers and fell herself. She curled into a ball as Cebrua taught her and the moment she made contact with the ground, she rolled.

Cebrua would be glad her training had come in use to the invincible alien. Kra was going to have to mention it to her the next time she saw her. Anaid was going to laugh hard enough to crack their ribs.

She shot to her feet. She offered Los a hand, but he waved her off, rising to his feet as well. She resisted the urge to use her transparent vision to see under his mask, but from the crinkle of his eyes, she imagined he was grinning.

She smiled to herself as she waved him to the trapdoor, which would lead them to the rafters of the warehouse. She tried the handle. Locked.

Great.

She tried it again, no longer restraining her inhuman strength.

Crack.

The door easily pushed open.

She wasn’t as quiet as Cebrua, but plenty quiet for what they needed. Normally, she would just use her flight ever so slightly so her feet never actually hit the ground, but this time she couldn’t. That power wrapped her whole body in magic, externally. And anything resembling external magic would set the alarms off.

She would need to ask Cebrua for a refresher lesson.

Awronadai save her, even Los was lighter on his feet than she was.

That was… a bit of a surprise if she was being honest. But given the kind of equipment he just had, she shouldn’t be surprised.

She’d had no idea Los could be this sneaky. He blended into the shadows as if he was born to do it, as if he was one himself.

Yet another thing she needed to add to the list of things Allelosin La’dylaip that didn’t make much sense.

Los barely noticed how little noise he made. He was just glad for muscle memory. And…. It was a little fun, playing spy when it was completely his choice.

Of course, they weren’t playing. He knew that. He understood lives were on the line. Still….

This was his choice. It felt different. Lighter even. It made all the difference.

Shadows and masks and a gun at his hip? He’d been raised on this.

Kra stopped, only half way to the middle of the rafter, holding out a hand.

Los cocked his head. What?

Oh, he heard it. Footsteps. A guard.

He stilled, still and silent as a statue and pressed his body against the beam. He counted. One. Two. The steps were getting louder.

Three. Four. Louder still.

Five. Six. Was the door cracked slightly?

Seven. Eight. Shit, it was. Would they notice?

Nine. Ten. Loud now. Almost passing.

Elven. Twelve. Passing. Please goddesses.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Passing. Not slowing. Steady pace.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Okay. They were okay.

Seventeen. Eighteen. He started standing, but the Ghost grabbed his arm.

Nineteen. Twenty. She shook her head, the words easy to read. Not yet.

A minute passed until the Ghost released her grip on his forearm and rose back to her feet. The guard was gone.

They continued moving as quickly and silently as possible until they were in the middle, right above where they guessed the people they were spying on would be. Five minutes until the meeting started and people began to trickle in. Using the footsteps as cover, Los took out his digital recorder and pressed record. He didn’t quite dare to look down at faces yet, but he could certainly set this up.

“Everyone here?” someone asked.

“No, we’re still waiting on him.”

“Well fuck. He’ll make us wait, won’t he?”

“Likely boss,” the second voice said. The second person sounded resigned. Like it had happened so many times they were used to it.

“No,” a new voice interjected. “Not quiet. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

Los grimaced. That new voice. It was smooth, silky, like velvet, but sent a shiver down his spine. It was the kind of voice that if it told you jumping into a volcano was a good idea, you’d actually consider it. Los knew voices like this. They were his definition of evil: malice hidden in five layers of honey.

Whoever this new person was, he did not trust them in the slightest.

“Can’t very well do much different,” the first voice grumbled. “Your boss determines if we get our weapons.”

Los looked over the edge carefully and the sugar-tongued man was smiling. At least, he assumed that was sugar-tongue. He was the only one dressed in an immaculate suit.

“Yes, he certainly does,” the one in the suit replied, confirming Los’ suspicions. And what was that smile? Did anyone else see the sick pleasure he took from the power he had over the mobsters? “Which is why he wants me to tell you that if you want your next shipment, you need to increase your attacks in the Tribal District.”

“That….” the lead gangster’s eyes went wide. “We aren’t ready for that.”

Los almost felt bad for the mobsters. Almost.

“I cannot stress how much my boss does. Not. Care.” His smile was sickly sweet. Sickeningly so. “You increase and you’ll get your shipment at the usual time and the usual place next week. If you do not, well,” The smile was no longer sickly sweet. Los could see the threat being conveyed under a grin, “I think you remember that all my boss has to do is hit one itsy-bitys button and your shiny, new toys will turn to fiery shrapnel and then not only do you have injured men, but everyone else you’ve pissed off looking for a piece of you.” The implication was obvious. They were too far gone. They couldn’t back out if they tried so all that was left was to bend to command. “I think you can see the picture, can’t you? The benefits of listening.” His smile turned sweet again. “You understand,” he crooned, “don’t you?”

The gang’s leader nodded stiffly. “We understand. Consider it done.”

“Lovely.” He drags out the word just slightly and tips an imaginary hat. “Well, good evening gentlemen. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Pleasure,” the leader practically spat out, venom laced into the singular word.

The man laughed. Sharp and cold, like black ice. “Until next time.”

“Fucker,” Los couldn’t help but whispering.

The moment the word left his mouth, he knew he’d messed up. He shifted to the beam, pressing himself against it, trying to be as skinny as possible and saw the Ghost doing the same.

“What was that?” sugar-tongue asked.

Kra looked down through the beam and saw the gangsters looking all around for the source. She prayed to every god that did and did not exist to spare them.

She would never forgive herself if she’d let Los get hurt.

The leader looked to his men, who just shrugged. They hadn’t heard anything. The leader turned back to the man in the suit and said, “Probably the wind. This place is old, sir. There’s probably a crack in a wall somewhere making a noise.”

The suit man nodded and turned to leave. He did not look back once and none of the gangsters said a word until a minute after the door had slammed behind him.

“Boss?” one asked quietly, slightly trembling. “How many of us are going to die because of this?”

“I don’t know.”

He sounded devastated, broken. Kra felt her own heart break for him. She would do what she could. She’d find a way to minimize the deaths.

If she had to go out in the day, then that was what she would do. She would be the ghost in the daylight. She was fast, powerful. She could make sure as many people lived as possible. She had to.

She barely noticed the gangsters leaving and the shield dropping. She probably should follow them, but Los was here with her, turning his recorder off.

She held a hand out to him and he grabbed it.

The next thing Los knew, they were back in the apartment.

“Well,” Los said, breaking the silence. “Shit.”

Kra couldn’t help agreeing.

Corla poked her head out her door. “Oh? You guys are back. Come on in, I’ve got bad news.”

“So do we,” Allelosin admitted with a sigh. “I’ll get Kra.”

He turned to Kra’s door but Corla immediately interjected with, “No, don’t!” Kra grimaced under her hood. Too fast. Far too fast, Los would be suspicious.

Calmer, to Kra’s relief, Corla added, “She’s asleep. We can catch her up in the morning.” She pushed the door open wider. “In. Now. Both of you.”

The Ghost strode into the room and Los followed, his lips pressed together. He wanted Kra here, but he understood letting her sleep. Unlike him, she was normal and didn’t know how to operate with interrupted or little sleep. And he didn’t want her to learn. It comforted him to know that she wasn’t fucked up like he was.

The Ghost took a seat on the floor and Los sat on the bed.

“What did you find Ms. Anvislu?” the Ghost asked.

“A lovely little email in the Desert Hawk accounts,” she said with obvious mock sweetness. “It was so enlightening because….” Los rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “Well, do you want to take a guess?”

“Nothing good?” the Ghost offered.

“Nope!” Corla agreed with a cheerfulness obviously masking frustration. “It’s in code. The exact same code used in the Pale Knives email I decrypted. It’s for a meeting in the train district. In another fucking warehouse.”

“When?” the Ghost asked.

“Four hours ago.”

“Fuck,” Los groaned.

“Yeah, but I think we all know what this means,” Corla leveled a look at each of them. “Whoever was meeting with the Pale Knives is also meeting with the Desert Hawks. I doubt they both,” She gestured to the screen, “know this, but still. That doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. We can deduce they’re working with the same person.”

“Who is giving them weapons,” Kra said, her brain whirling, putting pieces together. “That’s what we learned. The representative they met with wants them to increase the attacks in exchange for more weapons, weapons they could explode at any time if the Pale Knives don’t cooperate anymore.”

“Increase the attacks?” Corla asked, feeling the blood rush from her face.

“What the Ghost means,” Los clarified, “is that whoever is meeting with both gangs wants the Pale Knives to bring war to the Tribal district, or else they’ll withhold their shiny new weapons and destroy the ones they already have.”

Corla was certain all feeling to face had ceased. “Well…. That’s…. Spirit save us. I hate my life.” She glanced at Los.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That this somehow ties back to Project Sabwemkael?” Corla inquired. Los nodded. “Then yes.”

“It would make sense,” he argued. “We wondered if Project Sabwemkael was some dangerous magic weapon of some kind, but what if it’s this? Delivering a bunch of weapons to incite gang wars on the streets.”

“But why?” Kra asked. “What would be the end goal?” She sighed. “We can’t speculate about Pakeldan Thuelar right now. We have no proof that he is behind this.”

“But-” Los fell silent when she raised her hand.

“I know. The timing feels too purposeful for this to all be a coincidence, but so far, we have no proof. No direct link to Thuelar Incorporated. We cannot theorize about who is behind this. We can only follow the clues where they lead and draw conclusions then. What, Mr. La’dyliap, is Mr. Paitrewhi’s first rule about reporting?”

“Assumptions get in the way of objectivity,” Los murmured. “You do not go into a story looking for an end result. You ask questions and see where they lead and never let your biases interfere with your piece.”

“Correct,” Kra replied, hoping he wouldn’t question how she knew this. “And what exactly have you been doing right now?”

He leveled a glare at her, coming just short of where her eyes truly were. “Making assumptions. But-”

“No buts, Mr. La’dyliap,” she interrupted. “Never but. Not for something like this. If this truly is Thuelar, we will come to that conclusion when we find evidence of it, not because he is the most likely culprit.” She glanced at both of them. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

Kra turned her head to Corla, who just waved her head and said, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be objective.”

Los tilted his head. “Have you ever considered a career in journalism?” he asked.

Kra blinked, once again grateful for her hood, and hoped he didn’t notice the way Corla’s body tightened and lips instantly pressed together.

“No, I have not.” Her voice sounded even, thank Awronadai and the ancients. And thank them for all the practice she’d had before. “I am plenty busy as is.”

“Fair,” he conceded. “So, what next?”

“I need to tail the next shipment of weapons. Stop it if I can. At the very least find out where it came from. I find that then we might be able to trace who is supplying them.”

“Great, when?”

“Tomorrow? Ms. Anvislu, is there any way you find the usual drop of place and time? That could give me a clue where to listen and look.”

“Maybe. I can run the codebreaker through the emails and maybe I can find the drop off location and time, but…. This will take time. Time we likely don’t have. And… Ghost, you might not want to stop them. You eliminate the shipment and they might realize you are onto them. There’s a certain element of surprise that it could be valuable to keep.”

“But if I don’t eliminate the shipment, then those weapons are on the street. They’ll hurt people.”

“You can stop them,” Corla assured her, looking directly where her eyes would be. Kra heard her name unspoken in the brief silence that followed her words. She let her head drop a fraction down in acknowledgement. “You can be there to eliminate them when they’re in use,” Corla continued. “You might not be able to linger as much as you want, but you can keep the people safe. I will help you.” Los coughed very deliberately into his hand. Corla shot him a quick glare before adding, “We both will.”

“I know,” Kra assured her softly. “I know. I just…” Her hands moved vaguely of their own accord.

Corla smiled, understanding leaking from every pore in her body. “You don’t want to risk it. But we have to be tactical here. No one has to die if we’re smart. And if you let the weapon drop off happen, you can definitely trail the truck back. Or I can through cameras.”

“Maybe a combination,” Kra offered. “I identify the truck and you track it backwards through cameras and then I can throw the guns into the sun?”

“But that still means they’ll know we’re onto them,” Los pointed out. “We can’t do both and maintain surprise.”

“Lives are more important than surprise!” Kra snapped.

“Lives don’t have to be sacrificed,” Los argued. “Corla’s right. You can save them all.”

“Maybe.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Los smirked. “How am I going to explain my absence to Buiyikyuk?”

“Excuse me?” Kra stood and rounded on Los. “You aren’t coming with me.”

Los stood to match her. “Of course I am! I came with you on this one! Why wouldn’t I be on the next one too?”

“This doesn’t have a set time, Mr. La’dyliap! I am constantly going to be on guard tomorrow. When the shipments arrive, I need to move and move quickly. I do not have time to pick you up and for you to prepare for the mission. You cannot come.”

“I-”

“Let it go,” Corla warned. “She is not going to budge on this one.”

“No,” Kra agreed. “I am not. Go to bed, Mr. La’dyliap. I believe we are done for the night.” She turned to Corla. “Goodnight, Ms. Anvislu.”

“Night!” Corla said enthusiastically.

Kra nodded once at her and once to Los before she supersped away. She only went to her room and switched her supersuit away. She quickly changed into night clothes and slipped into bed. If Los came to talk to her, she’d be ready.

She listened to his footsteps and they did not approach her door. So, once he’d gone to bed, she slipped out and then made her way back to Corla’s room.

“Hey,” she whispered, shutting the door.

Corla smiled and mimicked her volume, “He’s not going to be pleasant tomorrow.”

“No,” Kra agreed. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem and we need to plan a little more. Orjel? Ralehal? We need you.”

The faces of Kra’s Troan parents appeared on one of Corla’s computers.

“Here,” Orjel informed her, also quiet.

“Okay, I need the two of you on cameras tomorrow, save any footage you can. We’re going to need it. Corla, can you make a map of Pale Knives and Desert Hawks strongholds? Where are they most likely to get a weapon shipment, basically? Can you have it done by the end of the night? Any clue as to where I should listen will help.”

“I can do that,” Corla affirmed. “Easy. Debrief in superspeed in the morning?”

Kra nodded. “Yes. Orjel and Ralehal, keep an extra eye on the cameras in those areas. If we can identify the trucks before they get there, maybe I can create some kind of accident and then you can track them to their origin through the footage already recorded. Also, if I can get there before the trucks return, hopefully there will be fewer people to run into.”

“And a better snooping spot,” Corla snorted.

“Exactly.”

“We can do that,” Ralehal assured her. He smiled brightly. “This is going to be fun!”

Orjel cast a half exasperated, half overwhelmingly fond glance at her husband. “My star, my moon, my sun, maybe a little less enthusiasm? People might be dying soon if we can’t help Kra solve this quickly.”

He nodded and gave her an apologetic smile. “Of course. Still, you can’t deny this will be an interesting exploration of our skill.”

“If you wish to see it as an experiment, by all means, Ralehal.”

He grinned and Kra did as well. Trust her father to make this seem more exciting than stressful or terrifying.

“Alright,” she instructed. “Are we all clear on our instructions?” The three of them nodded. “Great. I need to go spend some time in the sun. And text the others.” She sighed. “I don’t think I can continue training Golden Eagle. I don’t think I can spread my concentration right now.”

“Hey, that’s understandable,” Corla assured her. “They’ll get it and I’m sure they’ll be willing to help out until we can figure this all out. I’ll shoot a text to the chain.” She reached out and quickly squeezed Kra’s hand before letting go. “You go charge, okay?”

“Okay,” Kra agreed. She closed the space between them and wrapped Corla into a hug. “Thank you, Corla. For everything. I appreciate and am so grateful for everything you do so much and I… I want you to know that.”

Corla pulled back and grinned. “I always do. Now go! Shoo!”

Smiling, Kra sped out from the room. Soon enough she was in the sky and rocketing into space.

The sun felt warm, as it always did, a glittering goal in the sky, filling her with life and power.