Chapter 7 7

"Did you run backgrounds on him?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

She nods. "He's credible. He's worked for two of the biggest networks. You'll know his face. He says he's brought his crew with him, that it isn't enough for the galaxy to hear from Arden what we're doing. He says they need to see it."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling uneasy and unsure about this, but the words are making sense. "Tell the watchers to let him through," I say.

Cyra speaks into her connect-link and I turn on my heel, once more headed for the Airspace.

I'm not a politician. I'm not a public relations person.

I'm a mechanic. I'm an engineer. I'm a grease monkey.

But this is how it goes. I'm here to greet people when they arrive. I talk to them. I get the ball rolling.

Valen is always there to support me. He's always working on things. Always doing something crucial. But in the end, it's always me here, with the people. The strangers.

Slowly, a dull gray ship descends to the Airspace. I wonder if they see the slew of soldiers surrounding them, hidden in the jungle. I wonder if they'd dare pull anything, knowing I'm a Nero.

It lands in the dirt next to The Corsair. There's hissing of air and popping of metal as it cools and settles. I'm not sure if I'm nervous or annoyed at his presence. Mostly, I think I just need a nap. It's been a long day already and it's not even dinnertime yet.

The hatch opens and five figures walk down the ramp.

Cyra was right. This is a face I do recognize.

The man in the center has a round face, creased with deep folds. He's around my father's age, but these wrinkles are not the same. It's like he was stuffed too full and then someone realized their mistake and removed some of the stuffing, which left him slightly lumpy and folded.

His head is shiny and shaved. His body is thicker and matches his face. His fingers are thick and short.

By all standards, he is not a beautiful man. But the entire galaxy loves his voice, which has gained him spots on broadcasts around the galaxy.

"Bardek Lek," I say when he stops on level ground before me. "I welcome you to Kaelea."

"Nova Nero," he says, a familiar smile pulling on his thick lips. He steps forward, shaking my hand. "It's a pleasure being in the company of a brand new legend."

I smile, ready to get this meeting over with, but knowing that every meeting in this war is crucial. I never know who might be the most important players. I've been surprised more than once.

"Meet my crew," he says, introducing them, but their names don't stick, except for one of the women, whose name is also Nova. Hazards of having the most common woman's name in the galaxy.

"I'd like to speak to you and Valen Nero, if I may," he says. "I believe our presence here could be quite invaluable to your cause."

Ten minutes later, Valen follows Bardek's crew into our personal office, which Valen forged from the earth within a week of arriving. There are two desks in the center of the room, pushed face to face. I take a seat in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk, Valen standing just to the side of me.

Unlike most on Kaelea, Bardek doesn't look at Valen with distrust, but I remember that he's reported on the worst of the worst, met every kind of person possible in the galaxy.

"You have your audience," I say, thinking of my bed and how much I'm looking forward to crawling into it tonight. "Say your piece."

Bardek gives a little smile, like he thinks it's cute that I'm the one in charge here, but I don't think it's disrespect I see in his eyes. I think it's pure excitement causing the wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You're reaching every corner of the galaxy with your daily reports on The Black Hole of Truth," he begins. "The ratings and streams of her show have never, ever been higher. Dominion is expending massive efforts in trying to find her and silence the reports. In this, you've done a fantastic job of sharing your mission with the galaxy."

He takes a step forward, resting his fingertips on my desk to lean in close. "But most of the galaxy does not believe Valen has changed. They are only hearing words. You've told them that you are a Nero, but after so long with him being the only one," his eyes flick up to Valen, "they hardly dare believe it's possible."

I'm not surprised by anything he's just said. It's something I've been questioned on; there have been plenty that I have talked to who have questioned the legitimacy of my claim to be a Nero.

"They want to believe, but words are only words," Bardek says. I see the fire in his eyes that has made him so well known. "People need to see to believe."

"You want to put us on the networks?" I ask, my tone flat.

Bardek nods. "I'm saying people need to see what is going on here. They need to see that this is real, that you really are doing everything possible to end Dominion. They need to see Valen working against Cyrillius. They need to see you doing things no other human being can."

I let the crew members that arrived with Bardek bring bags in the office, despite my better judgment. Almost as if they had a pre-planned cue, the four crew members take equipment out of their bags. Sound contraptions. Advance cameras. Things I don't even know the function of.

"I'm proposing that you let us follow the two of you, everywhere. Every day," Bardek says, excitement growing on his face. "I'm saying we let everyone in the galaxy feel as if they are a part of this revolution until they feel inspired enough to join the war."

I look up to Valen, hoping to get a read on what he's thinking, but his expression is firm and blank. So I reach into his mind, finding the door cracked, as it always is. And to my surprise, I find he's open to this idea.

"There are certain elements we can't broadcast," I say, sitting up and bracing my elbows on the desk, lacing my fingers together. "There are critical plans we need kept secret, because Dominion will study every bit of this program with twenty profilers."

"Of course," Bardek says flatly, as if that was given. "I am not only a reporter, but a producer. You can trust me that I will only show the galaxy exactly what they need to see to feel inspired."

Once more, I look up at Valen. He meets my eyes this time. For a moment, we have a mental meeting, not even speaking words, just sharing impressions only the other understands.

"A few rules," Valen says finally, looking back at Bardek. "There is no recording in our personal residence."

Bardek nods, agreeing.

"There is no recording in headquarters without permission and forewarning," I say. "You will speak to me in great detail about what can be broadcast from there."

"As you command," the reporter says.

"And you will give equal importance and airtime to Valen," I say, standing, staring into the man's hazel eyes. "Because this is not just my war, it's just as much his."

Bardek's eyes slide over to Valen, and he stares for a moment. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but at the same time, I'm so slam tired of evaluating what everyone is thinking.

I'm so tired of it.