She nodded.
“I don’t have any way to prove this death was anything other than natural causes. The Hapolochians decay so rapidly after death that it would be impossible for me to tell if something or someone had a hand in his demise. Nothing suggests Auvi didn’t seal his quarters himself. No one else is recorded as being in the room. So, we have to act as if what appears to be true is true. Do you understand?”
Cyra twisted her fingers together, considering Doc’s words. There was a possibility that someone had killed the Captain? That someone was still on the ship? If they felt threatened… She nodded, her gaze locked on his watery brown eyes.
“Good. Now, Captain Varik asked that you join him on deck, but I’m going to give you a sedative instead because you’re so overwrought.” Doc stared into her eyes until she gave a slight nod of understanding. “I’ll explain you’re unable to join him for the foreseeable future. Veda will stay with you to make sure you don’t have an adverse reaction to the injection.”
Cyra stood and impulsively hugged the doctor. “Thank you, Doc.”
“I may be retiring, but I have some time left to help set things right.”
It was a kind sentiment, but with Captain Auvi gone, nothing would ever be right again.
“I’m going.” Cyra combed her hair, fighting the fatigue of carrying so much sorrow. “It’s the least I can do.”
Veda tugged on her robes, plucking the seams. “If Varik sees you?—”
“It will only confirm what you and Doc have told him—how distraught and unable to function I am.” Cyra dropped her comb into the vanity drawer and closed it. “Captain Auvi would attend if the situation were reversed, no matter the risk.”
The door chimed. Veda admitted Doc.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
Cyra stepped around him. “I don’t want to be late.”
Flanked by Veda and Doc, she proceeded throughThe Treasure. The large metal clad corridors filled with more and more crew members, their feet pounding like death drums, the closer they got to the lower, port-side deck. Varik stood at the front, puffed up like an ice bird of Kolben—deadly as one too. Cyra ducked her head, unable to tolerate the sight of Varik assuming the role of leader. The last thing Captain Auvi would want is to have his betrayer lead his funeral ceremony. But the dead had no say in what happened after they were gone, no matter what they’d planned while they were alive.
Fortunately, Varik’s words were swift if not heartfelt. A bag on a metal gurney was rolled close to the airlock. With a shudder, Cyra recognized the biohazard label and what it meant. She whipped her gaze to Doc.
“His remains liquified. We had to scrape together what we could.”
Her stomach churned. For as strong and regal as her captain had been, to be ejected in a waste bag into space was the ultimate indignity. The portal sealed. The outside vent opened, and the bag whisked out the tube into the endless darkness. Cyra’s legs went weak. She clung to Doc.
“Quite a show you’re putting on.” Varik’s dark tone oozed over her.
Veda grabbed Cyra’s arm. Doc and Veda guided her away. Doc called back, “I’m returning her to her quarters. She shouldn’t have attended. It was too much.”
The phantom itch between her shoulder blades demanded she glance back, but she refused to meet Varik’s eyes again. He could glare at her all he wanted, she’d be off his ship as soon as they docked.
Back in her cabin, she curled into a ball on her bed and wept.
Veda continued to bring her food at regular intervals. Most of it went untouched.
“Cyr, you have to get up.” Veda tugged her from her bunk. “It’s the pre-dock meal.” Captain Auvi’s tradition dictated all available crew gather for a parting as a way to build unity.
Cyra let Veda bully her through the motions of cleaning up and putting on a fresh uniform.
Tables had been placed along the corridor outside the standard mess area that was too small to hold the entire crew all at once. Cyra retrieved the special tray Captain Auvi had purchased for her from a lower storage cabinet in the galley. It held her food divided so different things wouldn’t touch. She choked on her grief, clutching the tray to her chest. She missed him so much.
From the buffet line, she filled the wells with tiny bits of food with Veda’s help. They sat at one of the emptier tables, and Varik placed his piled plate across from them. Cyra’s stomach rose in her throat.
“Cyra, so good of you to join us. You appear much recovered.” Varik’s smarmy voice as disgusting as his plate.
“Thank you,” she said softly, thankful to be seated between Doc and Veda.
“We’ll be docking at Cassan in a cycle.”
Cyra didn’t respond. Stopping at the space station was standard, and he hadn’t asked a question. Where he was going with the comment?
