Page 5 of Zalis
The male had hubris. It was almost admirable.
Almost.
Zalis could not understand such a thing. His parents were happily mated—a love match, even. He was surrounded by males who shone with the pride they took in serving their mates.
A mate was sacred. A treasure. To keep her secret? Unfathomable. To send her away to live on another planet? Unforgivable. Zalis did not have a mate and doubted if he would ever be matched, but he knew that being separated from his mate would tear him asunder.
Zalis focused on the terminal screen. Ren was not his concern. He did not have to understand or admire the male to work with him. The mission came first.
Even spontaneous, unsanctioned missions.
Zalis brushed his fingers along the console. The ship was an older model, rebuilt and upgraded with the latest in Mahdfel tech. It was a beautiful monstrosity; not as powerful as the setup he had on theJudgment, but adequate for the task at hand. What mattered most was when he sat at his console, the rest of the world vanished.
The entirety of the ship’s functions blinked and glowed on the screen. Someone established a feed with theJudgment, no doubt a conversation with the warlord. Zalis’ horns itched tolisten in on that conversation. Another person in Havik’s cabin—Thalia—downloaded the newest episodes ofEndless Hope and Suffering. All systems were operating within guidelines. Water usage had increased. Atmosphere was stable for the number of crew and additional passengers.
Had Ren even considered the strain his mate would put on the ship? Zalis did not believe so.
The feed with theJudgmentterminated.
The call had not been recorded, but the data lingered in the buffer for a time. It would be nothing for Zalis to crack the encryption and listen to the conversation undetected…
He entered a command and the screen vanished, erasing the temptation to eavesdrop.
Time to work.
While his equipment was sufficient for what the team required when away on missions, it did not have the capability to both trace the message Emmarae received from her missing sister and decrypt the corrupt councilor’s data device.
He examined the data device. The chip had been concealed inside an obsidian glass pendant. Little more than a basic consumer model, the security settings were meant to inconvenience the curious rather than prevent a data breach. Unless the councilor had additional security measures installed, which would make decryption a challenge.
It mattered not. All things gave up their secrets to the determined, and Zalis was determined.
Neither task was terribly complicated, so there was no obvious advantage to starting one before the other.
The worry on Emmarae’s face haunted him. She was Terran, pale with pale hair and pale eyes, as if worry drained away her interesting features.
Trace the call first, then decrypt the data device. Not for Ren. For Emmarae, to ease her worry.
The trace spread backward, a line that stretched from point to point across the communication hubs, connecting Emmarae to her missing sister. Allegedly. The actual message was empty. The task was not particularly difficult, but it was tedious. As a message was sent across the galaxy from communication hub to relay to satellite, it gained a signature. The protocol was designed to identify points of failure and had the charming side effect of mimicking the archaic practice of stamping a passport.
Well, Zalis considered it charming. Such quirks brought warmth and personality to otherwise dull standardized systems. Standardization was fantastic for ordering replacement parts, but Zalis spent the majority of his time staring at screens, analyzing data, and looking for patterns. He was always delighted in finding unique patterns.
While he waited for the trace to finish, Zalis removed a small device from his pocket. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the wings. The drone was the size of his thumbnail, could record both audio and visual, and had a decent flight range. It was a handy little piece of tech, but the design was inelegant. Perhaps inelegant was not the best descriptor. The design was uninspired.
The sensation of being watched made Zalis’ skin crawl.
Ren lurked just over Zalis’ shoulder, observing his work.
“Have you traced the origin of the message?” the male asked.
The question validated what Zalis sensed and broke his concentration.
“Your proximity is distracting,” Zalis said, setting the drone down and swiveling in his chair to stare down his unwanted visitor.
No. He did not like the honorless liar, Ivon Ren.
Ren took a step back, which was still too close for Zalis’ comfort. He held his feline, Murder Mittens. “I am encouraging you,” he said in a cheerful tone.
The large feline’s eyes were closed with contentment as Ren stroked the top of her head. Its tail swung lazily in the air.
