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“I wouldn’t call the Resistance ‘a little social unrest.’” Mal’ik frowned.
Serihk grimaced. “Granted.”
“And also, I don’t think Turner’s proposals are half bad.” Bryant jutted his chin out at Serihk. “I’m going to take another look at them now that I’ve met him.”
“Well, we’ve already talked about what happened the last time a planet thought Oliver Turner’s proposals weren’t half bad.” Serihk cocked his own chin and drummed his fingers along the sides of his glass. But his skin tinged orange when Bryant’s face darkened.
“Yes, you did, didn’t you?” Bryant scowled at him, and Mal’ik was surprised to see Serihk drop his eyes with something like shame. “That was cruel.”
“It was effective,” Serihk replied crisply. “He’ll be off-balance tomorrow. We’ll need that opening to remind the Klah’Eel delegation that they don’t need the Turner family.”
“What was cruel?” Mal’ik demanded. His gut clenched with unease. He should have pushed harder to stay with Oliver in the meeting. He’d known Oliver hadn’t been among friends. If Mal’ik had been there, perhaps Oliver would have talked to him about it afterward. Instead of sending him away with “Have a good night, Captain Mal’ik.”
Bryant looked pointedly at Serihk, and Serihk sighed. “I reminded him of a particularly cataclysmic failure of his. One that I’m sure involved a great deal of personal discomfort for him. And familial strain.”
“Personal discomfort,” Bryant muttered. He shook his head and turned to Mal’ik. “He was blown up. Well, the building he was in was. He was probably the target. He was buried in the rubble for days.”
“A day and a half,” Serihk murmured, as though he just couldn’t help making the correction.
“I’m sure it felt like days to him,” Bryant snapped.
Mal’ik barely heard them.
He couldn’t stop seeing Oliver in his mind’s eye, bloody and dirty, trapped in some small, tight, dark space between rough stone and metal. He’d have screamed until his throat was hoarse, and then what? Cried, sobbed, stared despondently into the darkness?
No, he’d have fought and struggled. He’d have scraped at the rocks until he tore off every fingernail. Mal’ik was sure of it.
“He almost died of the infection—”
“Infection?” Mal’ik interrupted Bryant as he came back to the expensive dining room of Serihk’s ship.
“He had some open wounds.” Bryant nodded. “And most of the people around him had been crushed. He was covered in blood, mud, and shit when they found him.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, Mal’ik was certain he’d seen some things himself. Mal’ik had too. He’d seen his own bloody stump where his right arm had once been. But he was a soldier. He was supposed to see those sorts of things. A man like Oliver wasn’t.
“What prompted the attack?” Mal’ik asked.
“It was a similar situation to this one,” Serihk replied. His tone had sobered, and Mal’ik appreciated that at least. “Turner family trying to exploit a resource-rich but socially broken planet. Weak local government. Violent resistance organization. Most of the leaders at the summit were killed and the plan was scuppered. I believe the mercenary corporation owned by Turner’s stepfather swooped in. He made trillions, and the Turner family made nothing.”
Mal’ik stood. “I have to go.”
Serihk winced. “I admit, it wasn’t the kindest thing to bring up.”
Bryant shook his head, but his mouth twisted into a fond smile, and the smell that wafted off him was almost saccharine. He placed a hand on the nape of Serihk’s neck and rubbed his thumb over the skin once before pulling his hand back. “You were trying to win.”
Purple and pink crawled up Serihk’s neck, and the smell of affection swirled through the air. Whatever it was between them was nothing Mal’ik had been expecting. He felt a stab of jealousy. He had someone that he needed to be comforting, even if that someone didn’t want it.
Bryant sighed and stood. “I’ll walk you out, Mal’ik.”
“Thank you for the drink.” Mal’ik nodded to Serihk before he left. “It was good to see you again.”
“And you, Captain Mal’ik.”
He followed Bryant back out into the hall and toward the ship’s exit. Mal’ik turned to say his goodbyes when the door opened, but Bryant gestured for him to continue. Bryant followed him out of the ship and down the gangway until they’d reached the ground outside. Finally, Mal’ik turned around with a frown.
Bryant gave him a crooked smile and waved back toward the ship. “Serihk is definitely listening. But he can’t hear us out here.”
“I see.” Mal’ik raised his eyebrows. “Can’t hear us talk about what?”
