“The Lasarans are not certain how they learned of your presence aboard their vessel,” he told her. “But they fear the Gathendiens may be searching for Earthling survivors.”
“To kill or to capture?” she asked, echoing his own words to Tiran.
“They don’t know.”
Heavy silence fell, fraught with tension.
“Wait,” she said suddenly. “If the Gathendiens’ goal is to kill travelers from Earth, they may also try to take out any search-and-rescue vessels they encounter, right? In case you have any of us on board?”
“We believe that is a possibility, yes.”
“Then don’t divert power from your shields. It’s too risky.”
Barus shot him a quick, surprised glance.
Dagon shook his head. “We can reach you faster if we—”
“I don’t care. I don’t want you to risk your lives to save mine. If I didn’t hope some of my friends might be floating around out here somewhere, I’d tell you not to come for me at all. How are you on firepower? Can you take out a Gathendien vessel if one attacks?”
“Yes. We have defeated many in the past.”
“Good. If you do come upon one, shout a few Earth curses for me while you kick their asses.”
He smiled. “I will.”
Quiet fell.
“Three weeks,” she muttered. “How the hell can I make two and a half hours of oxygen last three weeks?”
Dagon had no answer for her.
“I wish Seth didn’t know.”
“I believe the Lasarans wished to give him hope.”
“I guess so,” she murmured, voice somber. Her words slowed, turned tentative. “Could you by any chance record a message from me to send Seth if I don’t make it?”
“Yes.” He didn’t mention that Janek had been recording every communication with her. Dagon had made a copy of their first two conversations and played them back more times than he cared to admit.
“I mean, I’m still going to try to make it until you get here,” she added, “but just in case I don’t…”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. Let me know when you’re ready.”
He let a few seconds pass. “We can begin recording now.”
“Okay. Let me think a sec.”
Almost a full minute went by.
“Okay. Here we go,” she said. “Hi, Seth.” Her voice cracked. “Damn it. Let me try that again.” She cleared her throat. Twice. “Hi, Seth.” Her voice broke again, and she sounded close to tears. “Nope.”
If Seth was like a father to her, Dagon could understand why the prospect of saying goodbye to him might compel her to weep.
“Damn it, Eliana,” she whispered. “Just suck it up and get it done. This isn’t for you. It’s for him.”
Dagon exchanged a somber look with Barus.
She cleared her throat. “Okay. One more time.” When next she spoke, her voice was strong and bright, lending no clue whatsoever of the pain that afflicted her or the grimness of her situation. “Hi, Seth,” she said cheerfully. “If you’re listening to this, I guess I didn’t make it. Hopefully, I went out kicking a lot of Gathendien ass. Because those are the assholes responsible for this. The Gathendiens. We made it through the first qhov’rum wormhole thing just fine and had just entered the second when those bastards attacked. I got as many people as I could into escape pods. So I hope everyone you placed in my keeping survived. If they didn’t… I’m sorry. I did my best to protect them and keep them safe. But doing that out here in space is a lot harder than it is on Earth.”
She drew in a deep breath, managing not to grunt in pain this time. “I know you, Seth. I know you’re going to blame yourself because I didn’t make it. And you’re going to regret sending us out here, thinking that this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t agreed to this and that you never should have let us go, but that’s bullshit. I don’t regret it. At all. Not one minute of it.” Joy and awe entered her voice. “Thanks to you, I got to board an honest-to-goodness spaceship, leave Earth, and tour our solar system. How many people aside from Ami can say that? Then I left our solar system and flew through deep space. I got to spend four months getting to know people from not one but two alien races. I’ve lived a long time, Seth, and this has been the biggest, most amazing adventure of my life. I’m so glad I had the chance to do this.”
The crew exchanged somber glances.
“Look, I know the Lasarans have told you about my situation. I don’t want you to torture yourself, imagining me floating out here by myself, afraid and in pain. Because that’s bullshit, too. I wish you could see what I can see. I have the most amazing view of the stars. We don’t get to see them much at home in the cities because of the pollution and all the lights. But here the stars stretch as far as I can see in all directions. And I’m not alone. I met a third group of aliens—the Segonians—who are just as amazing as the Lasarans and the Yona.” She chuckled. “They’re actually a lot more entertaining than the Yona and not as diplomatically correct as the Lasarans. So they’ve been really good company. They haven’t complained once about me driving them crazy with my chatter, and I’m even teaching them to curse like an Earthling. Am I teaching you guys to curse like an Earthling?” she called.
“Hell yes, you are,” all but Barus responded.
She laughed, again managing to do so without revealing the pain Dagon knew it caused her. “You see? These guys are great.” Her voice softened, still carrying a smile. “So don’t torture yourself imagining the worst. I know you’re going to mourn for me, but don’t blame yourself and let it tear you up inside.” Her words strengthened once more. “Leah, I know you’re there because there’s no way you’d let Seth listen to this alone. If you even think he looks like he’s blaming himself, give him a swift kick in the ass for me. You’re the only one gutsy enough to do it. Then distract him with a storm or two.” She chuckled. “I’m going to miss teasing you two about that.”
Dagon could not imagine what she meant.
Her voice softened further, filling with tenderness and affection. “Thank you, Seth, for sending me on the adventure of a lifetime. I’m so glad you did.” She took a deep breath. “I love you. Goodbye.”
Her breath hiccupped with a sob on the last word.
Heavy silence engulfed them all.
Eliana struggled to hold back the sobs that threatened.
“Eliana?” Dagon asked softly. And the sympathy in his deep voice only made the struggle more difficult.
“Damn, that was hard,” she whispered brokenly. “Do you think maybe you could cut off the goodbye? I don’t want him to know I cried.”
“Of course.”
Every jagged breath sent pain spearing through her chest. She thought she’d held it together pretty well since she’d found herself alone in the middle of nowhere but now wanted to bawl her eyes out. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so dehydrated before that I couldn’t produce tears,” she muttered. “It feels really weird.” And she hated that she had broken down in front of those she now thought of as the Guys. She cleared her throat. “Was the rest of it okay? Do you think it will help him?”