Page 46 of Jarran

“Evie—”

“Don’t.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t you dare give me a speech about deserving better or keeping me safe or any of that noble self-sacrificing garbage. I didn’t survive a Sifter ship and a psychotic warlord and the worst bath salts in the galaxy to get left at a galactic truck stop.”

He stared at her. Stars, he loved her. “I wasn’t going to leave you here.”

“Good. Because I’d find you, and I’d be furious, and you’ve seen what I’m like when I’m furious.”

“I have. It’s terrifying.”

“You’re damn right it is.” She stood up. Her chin was set and her eyes were hard and bright. “When is he coming?”

Jarran looked toward the docking bay corridor. The feeling that had been building in his chest since he’d sent those coordinates tightened. “Soon,” he said. “I think he’s already close.”

The docking bay was a wide, low-ceilinged space lined with berths for small vessels. Most were empty. Their stolen Sifter shuttle sat in the far berth, dark and compact, its angular hull conspicuous among the battered cargo pods and fuel tenders. The air smelled like coolant and ozone and the faintly organic tang of alien fuel compounds. Overhead lights buzzed and flickered. The floor was so stained with decades of spilled fluids, it was impossible to determine its original color.

Evie stood beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm. She hadn’t said much since the galley. He could feel the tension in her, but there was nothing he could do about that because he was also a ball of tension.

Taron’s ship came in fast. The small vessel slid into the bay through the magnetic barrier. Sleek, angular, well-maintained. It was small, and he recognized it as the type used as a shuttle from a larger ship. If his brother had a larger ship out there, one that couldn’t fit in the bay, he must have done very well for himself. It settled into a berth and the engines cut.

The ramp lowered and Taron Bando walked down it.

He was slightly shorter than Jarran. But then, most Virilians were shorter than Jarran. He watched his brother, who had the same dark hair, and expressive brows, and long stride as he remembered. His posture was rigid. Every line of his body looked braced for an impact.

Taron stopped ten feet away. He wore a clean white shirt, which looked out of place here, thick flight pants, and a stony expression. His green eyes, a few shades lighter than Jarran’s, moved over him slowly, taking stock. His jaw was set so tight the muscles ticked.

“Taron,” Jarran said in a gravelly voice.

“Pella Rin.” Taron said the name deliberately, like an opening shot.

Jarran stood still, shoulders back, hands at his sides. Open. Not defensive. He had to work hard not to flinch. “You got here fast.”

“I was already in range. I have an alert set for that frequency, waiting for this transmission.” Taron raised his chin defiantly. “Hoping it would never come.”

“Why did you come?” Jarran asked.

Taron’s composure cracked, just slightly. “Because I have things to say to you that I’ve been carrying for half my life, and I wanted to say them to your face before the Coalition locks you away for good.”

Jarran’s tail twitched. “Then say them.”

“Fine,” Taron spat. “I was young when you recruited me into the Sifters. Too young to grasp the consequences of what I was doing. I trusted you.” His hands curled into fists. “I trusted you to keep me safe. And I know I should have known better. That’s on me, but fuck, Jarran. You made it sound like a lark. An adventure. Instead, I wound up getting sucked into an organization I couldn’t get out of. You have no idea the risk I took leaving the Sifters. If they’d known I was planning to escape, they’d have killed me, and you…” A stricken expression twisted his features. “You wouldn’t have stopped them. You’d probably have executed me yourself, for disloyalty. When I got out, finally, I was exiled from our home planet. And then there’s our father. This devastated him.

“I earned my way back to good standing,” Taron said. His voice shook. “I served my exile. I built something good. It was pure luck that I found Amelia. We have a family now, and I did all that carrying the weight of your betrayal.” He stepped closer to Jarran, and Jarran caught the tight muscles in his brother’s jaw and the tremble of his hands. “I didn’t come here to help you. The Coalition thinks Pella Rin orchestrated his own escape from the Korath-7. When the Virilian envoy gets here, you’ll be tried and sentenced, and you will deserve every tericycle of it.”

Jarran stood motionless through all of it. He absorbed the impact of each word and didn’t look away from his brother’s face. “I know what I took from you,” Jarran said quietly. “I wish I could go back, but I can’t. I am sorry, brother. I am sorry for every bit of harm I caused you.”

Taron flinched at the word brother. For a moment, his expression turned raw and unguarded, before he put his guard back up. “Great. So you send me a code on our old frequency, and you expect me to—what? Forgive you? Welcome you back?”

“No.” Jarran kept his voice steady, though steadiness cost him. “I don’t expect forgiveness.”

“Good. Because you won’t get it.” He turned to Evie. “Are you here willingly? Or are you his prisoner?”

“I’m here willingly,” Evie replied. “I’m a doctor. I was assigned to treat him on the Korath-7 before the Sifter attack.” She kept her voice clinical. “I can tell you for a fact that Jarran did not orchestrate his own abduction. That was Durik, the new leader of the Sifters. We were both taken against our wills. Your brother fought back and even killed one of them.”

Taron regarded her closely. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I understand your skepticism,” she said. “We’ve been able to learn that a being called Xill Rin subjected Jarran to extensive neurological procedures that equated to a complete identity overwrite. His neural pathways were fundamentally altered. Jarran was erased and replaced with a constructed personality. Pella Rin was manufactured.”

Taron listened. His expression changed as she spoke, and for a moment, Jarran saw a glimmer of raw hope, but as quickly as it appeared, it was suppressed. “You’re lying for him.”