Page 139 of Star Claimed Omega
And yet, they were celebrating.
Drunken shouts racked the steel corridors; boots stamped; fists pounded; voices roared. Laughter barked through the intercoms, rough utterances slurring songs of victory.
The stench of malted beer, body sweat, engine grease, and unwashed fury drifted through the vents like smoke.
A bottle smashed down the gangway, and the cheering grew.
They honoredThe Carmine Cardinal.
Varnok Gage’s return was triumphant.
Her father was home.
She didn’t give afokk.
The moment they docked at their station after their flight fromThe Sombra, she ran from the hangar, seeking the relative safety of her small quarters.
She sat, back against the wall, arms wrapped tight around her drawn knees.
The thin fabric of her suit held stains of tears and blood.
Her gaze fixed on the porthole, not seeing the ships or the glittering void, but the last look Santi gave her before she disappeared.
His eyes burned, not with rage, but with heartbreak, with hurt.
Recalling his pain scorched through her soul.
She blinked as a ship parked in the dock caught her attention.
The Vermilion Claw, her uncle’s grotesque pride.
It had since lost its stealth skin, which allowed it to cloak itself in anonymity and even get close toTheSombrawhen Soleil breached the dreadnought’s hull.
Now, it showed off in its full glory.
The vessel was every inch a pirate’s fantasy, a madman’s joke.
Its twin engines flared like glowing skulls, flame-howl exhausts belched fire, twin broadside beam cannons styled like antique cutlasses, and forward artillery resembled monstrous flintlock pistols.
The targeting scope jutted from the bridge, shaped like an old Earth-style eye patch. A long, metallic feather twitched from within its communications hub.
She laughed, a bitter chuckle, for that craft represented the ridiculousness, the ego, and the cruelty of her kin.
Herfokkin’ kin.
Somewhere below, the revelry was in full roar, pirates chanting her name, toasting the return of their blood-soaked king.
The celebration noise was a dull throb in the belly of the gods-forsaken station.
She caught the sound of people stumbling outside her door.
Had Varnok or Vern sent anyone to retrieve her and parade her before their unwitting sycophants?
She sat still till the footsteps passed, until the laughter moved down the hall.
With a sigh of relief, barefoot and silent, she crawled across the cold grating toward her bunk and reached underneath.
Her fingers found the small, slim box tucked against the wall.
