Page 14 of Star Claimed Omega
‘What if this Santi XO reports me? If Wren finds out this, will I lose my job?’
‘It’s been hours. If you were going to be sanctioned for an innocent mistake, it would have already happened,’ Astra soothed her, a wry smile softening her face.
Soleil sighed, letting out a rush of breath.
Then a thought slipped in, quiet and unexpected.
What if the XO of The Sombra found out she had a lien on her life, one cast on her by the Wildlight’s most evil manipulator?
A frisson of terror sliced through her.
She made a vow, internal and fierce: she would use every means available to ensurehenever found out.
Soleil’s world onLa Última Sombraconsisted of grime and drab corridors.
Where the constant odor of industrial cleaner, the hiss of pressure valves, and the steady thrum of distant machinery were her unwavering companions.
She worked the lowest, oldest decks of the dreadnought, where polite company dared not tread, and maintenance halls where cables sometimes erupted from the walls like decaying vines.
Despite the ship’s sophisticated engineering and luxury upgrades,The Sombrastill carried the scars of its former life as a prison vessel.
While the upper levels were at present restored and climate-controlled, the lower levels reeked of mold, refuse, and leaking effluent; a funk that persisted no matter how rigorously their surfaces were scrubbed.
Soleil spent hours scraping bacteria from restroom walls, scrubbing off layers of bilge from ancient tiles, and prying gunk from the corridors’ floors.
It was solitary labor, the kind that was only ever noted when it remained unfinished.
Soleil, with her red-tinged brown hair pulled into a severe knot and a cap that concealed her features, blended in.
Most people never afforded her a second glance.
She didn’t mind being unnoticed; she was not here to attract attention.
She was here to survive.
That and keeping the one soul dependent on the success of her mission was her singular focus.
After Astra left her, still amused by her interaction with the stranger by the lake, Soleil ate a quick breakfast of oat squares and dried berries.
She then dove straight into her regular rotation, mopping floors in the busy passageways of Deck 12.
Half an hour in, her wrist comm flashed.
She glanced at the message flashing on it.
A priority hail from the boss?
She sighed, dreading what news he might deliver.Had the XO complained?
With some trepidation, she made her way to the maintenance office and knocked on the supervisor’s open door.
Taking a deep inhale, she stepped in at the impatient wave Wren Dravick gave her.
He sat behind his overflowing desk, dressed in a greasy, blemished, and wrinkled uniform.
He maintained that his appearance was essential, a demonstration to the top-ranking officials that he achieved results by getting his hands dirty.
Soleil, conversely, preferred keeping her navy jumpsuits starched and pressed.
