Page 12 of Lorran
Lorran knew the warlord’s twin sons were little more than a year older than Gavran, but Mahdfel children grew quickly. In terms of physical development, a year was several inches of growth and increased mass. Lorran remembered his own frustration with being the youngest brother, always too small to join his brothers when they did anything interesting.
“Do they?” Paax took in the rock wall, his gaze lingering at the spot from which Gavran fell. “I believe the warrior is too young for such activities.”
“I’m not little,” Gavran protested.
“Apologies, young warrior, but perhaps you should start with a more suitable training exercise,” Paax suggested.
Yes. Lorran should have suggested that, rather than drag Gavran up a rock wall when his reach had insufficient span and he lacked the arm strength to keep himself from plummeting to the ground.
“Training is hard work. Fetch water for us all, warrior. We will need three. You must be mindful and not drop the water.” Paax pointed to a stall at the far end of the shooting range that provided hydration and nutritional supplements. “Can you complete this mission?”
Gavran’s chest puffed up. “Yes! I know how many three is.” He held up three fingers, then took off at a run. He tripped over his feet, picked himself up as if he had not stumbled, and continued to run.
Paax turned his attention to Lorran, an easy smile on his face. He blinked, and a hard expression settled over his face. Lorran stood up straighter. “We received a distress signal from a small Mahdfel vessel, theSRV-P11. I’m sending you out with Mylomon, immediately,” the warlord said.
Immediately. That meant he’d have to cancel his plans to spend the holiday with his family.
The warlord nodded, as if sensing his thoughts, and repeated, “Immediately. Seeran claims you will be ideal.”
Ah.
Lorran had often been deployed on information-gathering missions, but never to answer a distress signal and never directly assigned by the warlord. Usually, Seeran or another officer handed out mission assignments. “Sir, would a medic be better to send?”
“Ideally, but I haven’t the medics to spare, and half of my crew is on the Sangrin surface. We must be creative, and you are good with creative problem solving,” the warlord said.
Lorran’s chest puffed up with pride. He possessed many skills that his brothers lacked and felt gratified that the warlord noticed. Still, there was a reason the warlord sought him out rather than deliver the orders via the comm. He awaited further information.
“I am unsure what you will discover. The signal did not specify, but I know the crew. The vessel was tasked with conducting a survey on the fringe of Sangrin space. The vessel likely suffered a mechanical failure,” Paax said.
“But only Mylomon and myself? If we encounter anything beyond mechanical difficulties—”
“With the disruption in communications, it is unknown when the message was first sent. It is being broadcast on repeat.”
A repeating distress signal from the deep reaches, playing on loop for who knew how long.
Lorran nodded. The crew most likely had perished. This was not a rescue mission, but recovery.
“The warrior who sent the signal is known to me. If he still lives—” Paax scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ulrik is a friend. Do not leave him alone in the deep black.”
Definitely a recovery mission. No medics necessary.
Paax continued, “There may be another on board. He is also known to me. A slippery creature with a unique skill set, much like you.”
Lorran did not know what to make of that statement. He had some surface knowledge of several skills, but he excelled in gathering intel from people who might not realize they parted with said information. He teased out information from casual conversations and let the intelligence officers make of that what they would.
Some warriors did not regard his skills as honorable. They only saw lies and deception and did not consider that situations were complex with gray areas.
If anyone understood gray areas, it was the warlord. His second-in-command had served as assassin and continued to act as the warlord’s hand in many ways.
“Caldar has his uses, but he has been too long without a clan, I think,” Paax said.
“Do you have use for him here?” Did the warlord select Lorran to recruit another intelligence officer?
“If he is not too slippery to catch, yes.”
Well, that was ambiguous.
“When is departure?” Lorran asked, already mentally preparing what to bring for the mission. Too slippery? Did that mean bring this Caldar back by force? Or bribery? He doubted a straightforward offer of a place on theJudgmentwould be enough.
