1.2 - Jerome

  He tapped the omni-com with unnecessary urgency, summoning the elevator.

  The ordeal was almost over.

  Silent, Jerome waited for the doors to slide open and take him to the bridge — the final stop in the tiresome errand he’d been assigned.

  Williams luckily had messaged him on the admiral’s behalf, giving him a perfect excuse to speed things up.

  “You’re being awfully quiet, Jerome. Entertaining me to the best of your questionable abilities was part of your superior’s orders, wasn’t it?”

  “I apologize, Miss Taira. The operation is about to begin, and I can’t help but feel a little concerned.”

  Jerome turned to glance at the girl — smirking, shameless.

  Taira Akane, the Princess, as everyone called her.

  He had to admit, she looked the part: a beautiful young woman with finely balanced features and the effortless elegance of her Asian heritage.

  Long, black hair flowed past her shoulders, matching her dark, almond-shaped eyes. She wasn’t as tall as Jerome but stood somewhere over one-seventy — most of it long, slender legs.

  No formal attire or elaborate makeup for the Princess’s visit aboard the Parvus — just gray trousers and a white shirt. The expensive kind, of course.

  But even if she were to dress like a commoner, there was something about the way Akane Taira stood and moved — a balletic, innate poise — that set her instantly apart.

  Innate wasn’t the right word, maybe.

  He’d seen her before at family events — and every day during the same year he joined the Navy.

  She was his brother’s fiancée, after all, and had been a guest of the De Chevelles for years — she’d practically grown up there. He remembered her as an obnoxious tomboy when she was still a kid. Wild, loud, and impossible to ignore.

  But where the noble families had failed with him, they had succeeded with Akane Taira, shaping her into a real princess.

  At least on the outside.

  He wasn’t fooled.

  Behind that angelic exterior hid a sadistic demon who took joy in tormenting anyone beneath her station.

  Since the Admiral had so generously assigned her and her brother Hiro to his and Lieutenant Kosciuszko’s care two days ago, Jerome had tasted that cruelty firsthand.

  The way she treated him couldn’t be called anything but bullying: subtle jabs, snide remarks, relentless sarcasm.

  He thought he understood why.

  It was revenge — or stress relief — aimed at the De Chevelles and at Gothard.

  And he, the odd ball of the family who’d chosen the Navy over a lifetime of wealth, had become her perfect target.

  Now, ordered by Cornelius to play the gracious host, he couldn’t object without embarrassing his superior. Like a good officer, he held the line against the bombardment of provocations.

  Soldiers follow orders, Jerome reminded himself.

  Akane Taira already knew that all too well.

  “Me! You should be thinking about me!” she resumed, theatrically. “Even if Eden fails, what are you going to do? Jump out of the ship and tear open space with your bare hands?”

  “Sounds like an awful effort,” Jerome replied flatly. “I’ll probably just cower in fear like everyone else, Miss Taira.”

  The words of Cornelius echoed back to him from the moment he’d been handed the delightful assignment:

  Oh, I have just the man for such a delicate mission. Escorting two noble heirs… a nobleman’s son himself. And a captain, no less.

  H.O.Pe. humans were truly merciless.

  “Cornelius… you’re going to pay for this,” Jerome muttered under his breath as the last two days replayed in his mind.

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  He realized he was gritting his teeth — and that someone found it amusing.

  He glanced at Akane. She looked far too pleased by his reaction, hand half-covering her lips as she chuckled.

  “Coming to this ship was the right choice,” she said, voice honeyed and cruel. “You’re far more entertaining than my dear Galeria — I bet you can show me more of those faces.”

  If that was the real Taira Akane, his brother had to be warned.

  He didn’t particularly like Gothard and his pompous manners, but he almost felt obligated to tell him about the kind of woman he would marry.

  If the man ever showed a moment of weakness, it would condemn him to a lifetime of quiet torment. And the man had the endurance of a soap bubble.

  “Welcome, Captain De Chevelle Jerome.”

  The reassuring, inhuman voice of Scipio signaled the elevator’s arrival — bringing Jerome closer to the peace of mind he longed for.

  He stepped inside before the doors had fully opened. The others followed without hurry.

  The Princess took her place beside him. Ahead of them, Kosciuszko and the young musician Hiro Taira were deep in conversation about some centuries-old composition.

  That bastard Kosciuszko is having the time of his life, Jerome thought.

  The lieutenant had clearly been chosen because the admiral knew of his passion for classical music — and his admiration for Hiro’s work. It had worked spectacularly against Jerome, leaving Akane with no one else to pester for two days.

  Still, there was one silver lining.

  Escorting the Taira siblings around the Parvus had kept him away from prying eyes — giving him time to contact Fauster through their secure channel and receive her reports.

  But the girl was a disappointment through and through. Weird — even more than he’d first imagined.

  During her initial meeting with the Admiral, calling her behavior suspicious would’ve been generous.

  Her odd conduct, combined with the fact that she was young and, under the tomboy appearance, attractive, had already put him in an awkward position.

  Jerome’s reputation as a womanizer only ensured rumors spread faster — that he’d brought her aboard for personal reasons, that they were involved.

  Useful, still, he thought as the elevator began its ascent. A perfect cover for what they were really doing.

  —If only Alba Fauster hadn’t really started acting like a sulking lover rather than an undercover agent after her second day.

  Jerome glanced at her chat on the omni-com: a single thumbs-up, enlarging and shrinking on loop, with no explanation.

  And there were more of them.

  No significant reports. Thumbs-up were the only thing she sent him.

  Maybe she just needs more time, he reassured himself, letting out a small sigh.

  But there wasn’t much of it left.

  “Say, Jerome — do you plan on continuing your military career once we reach this new planet?” Akane’s voice broke his thoughts as the elevator kept climbing.

  “Probably, Miss Taira. At least for a while.”

  “And why is that?” she pressed.

  Jerome shrugged. “I’ll likely have the chance to explore Agua before anyone else. That’s one of the Navy’s primary roles in this operation.”

  “I see…” Her tone softened. “You really are an odd.”

  Jerome raised an eyebrow. There was no sarcasm in her voice this time.

  Was she genuinely curious?

  He never found out.

  The elevator reached the bridge, and the doors slid open.

  The small group stepped out.

  Kosciuszko, after saluting the Admiral and showing Akane to her seat, moved to assist the young musician with his performance preparations. Jerome, meanwhile, approached Cornelius to report.

  The towering figure stood as always before the panoramic viewports, facing the horizon.

  “Sol Invictus, Admiral. We’ll begin preparations for Mr. Taira’s performance immediately.”

  “Very well, Captain De Chevelle. The ships will soon begin their final approach, but your timing is perfect.” Cornelius replied. “Were our guests satisfied with the Parvus tour?”

  “I believe so, Admiral. I explained everything I could — within the limits allowed to civilians, of course.”

  The admiral gave a quiet, controlled chuckle.

  “You’ve done well, Jerome. I know the task I gave you was well beneath your rank and skill, but such delicate guests required someone I could trust.”

  “Of course, Admiral,” Jerome said, bowing slightly. “There’s no need for justification.”

  Though no kind words could make up for what he’d endured.

  “If I may,” he began, meeting Cornelius’s gaze with eager eyes, “am I to return to my usual duties on the bridge from this point onward?”

  “Yes, Captain.” Cornelius replied. “But I’d ask you to keep an eye on our guests anyway. They might feel out of place here.”

  “As you wish, Admiral,” Jerome saluted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me — Sol Invictus.”

  He turned to face the rows of officers’ seats and walked toward his post on the lowest tier of the bridge.

  Unease crept in as he neared the seat.

  The Admiral’s already suspicious behavior had taken a turn since the disastrous introduction of Alba Fauster. He had become even friendlier toward Jerome.

  He recalled their first meeting: the day he handed Cornelius command of the ship.

  Are you supposed to be the captain of this warship?

  The tone of mockery alone had crushed his ego as effectively as one of the man’s hands might have.

  At the time, he’d thought his career was over.

  Jerome was under no illusions. His service record was respectable — but unremarkable. He hadn’t distinguished himself in any way. Competent, yes. But everyone knew his rise through the ranks owed more to his family name than to military genious.

  That alone should have earned him the scorn of a war veteran like Cornelius.

  Why the sudden benevolence? He asked himself, weighing the possibilities.

  Perhaps it was political — cultivating ties with the nobility. Allowing the Tairas aboard, against all operational logic, certainly supported that theory.

  Yet he couldn’t picture Cornelius as a bureaucrat. His engineered mind had something else turning inside it.

  Jerome climbed the short flight of steps to his station: the central seat on the right side of the bridge. He gave a brief nod to Williams, the vice-captain seated beside him.

  His gaze swept across the command deck and it came to rest on the girl stationed just below, overseeing the setup for her brother’s performance.

  Taira Akane. The only person on this ship outside the admiral’s chain of command.

  Should I talk to her about this ship’s circumstances?

  Maybe the Alter-humans aboard would poke her curiosity. And she surely had even more connections than him.

  “Gentlemen!”

  The admiral’s voice carried across the bridge.

  “The ship will begin maneuvering in five minutes. Ready yourselves to take the first step — into our future.”