Page 201 of Star Claimed Omega
‘Remember that we guard the Wildlight and rule the night.’
‘We are the night,’ they echoed in unison.
Santi slung his cross-body bag over one scapula and walked out with the silent prowl, his heart surging with pride.
He’d built a good crew, one that would endure and ensure peace as millions forged their way through the Wildlight Expanse to safe harbor in Pegasi.
His job was done; now he had a woman to return to, one who neededhissanctuary.
Missions complete, his place, at last, was back onThe Sombra.
SOLEIL
As theEl Lobodisengaged its docking clamps and pulled away from Cybele Station, a sense of finality settled over Soleil.
She stood at the viewscreen as the massive, intricate terminus shrank away, its lights fast becoming indistinct pinpricks against the vast, dark expanse of space.
Leaving only the quiet of a new future irrevocably launched.
Santi moved up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his chin hooking over her shoulder.
His presence was a solid warmth against her back.
‘How long toThe Sombra?’ she asked, eager to see her the place she loved once again.
Santi’s grip tightened slightly. ‘Ah, about that. We’re taking adetour.’
She tilted her head, confusion furrowing her brow. ‘A detour? Where to?’
‘You’ll soon find out,mi sol,’ he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
He offered no further explanation.
Instead, he rerouted theEl Lobotoward a mysterious, unlisted destination.
Soleil frowned, ready to press the issue, but his silence and the gleam in his eyes were absolute, a distinct non-answer that closed the subject.
In due time, they docked with a ship she’d never seen before, sleek, polished, gleaming like a floating jewel against the backdrop of space.
When the airlock cycled open, and she stepped through, with Santi at her six, she gasped.
They walked into an atrium that was a soaring cathedral of glass and light.
Arched beams of brushed titanium rose to a vaulted ceiling, filled with soft skylight simulations and levitating crystal mobiles that shimmered like suspended galaxies.
A handwoven tapestry from the old Earth Andes hung along the foyer wall, and fountains bubbled across black marble floors in graceful curves.
The air was redolent with vanilla and lemon oil scents, clean and extravagant all at once.
‘Welcome aboard theSyracusia,’ a poised Synth AI said, stepping forward.
Her name badge readNora Halden – Cruise Director.
She was tall, ebony-skinned, with silver cornrows, and wore a flowing suit of liquid silk. Her voice was musical, each syllable crafted for serenity. ‘You are guests of the Royal Suite, I presume?’
Soleil blinked. ‘What is this place?’
Nora smiled. ‘A private resort yacht. One of the finest in the flotilla.’
