Feeling her gaze, A'Ran glanced up. His dark eyes lingered on hers, the skin around them softening ever so slightly in a way she knew was entirely for her. She grinned in return, and his look turned to one of disapproval.
The Anshan also did not believe it proper to express emotion of any kind in public.
"Nishani, would you join me?" someone asked from behind her.
Kiera turned at the low, quiet voice of Mansr, A'Ran's uncle and closest advisor. The middle-aged man had grey hair and a smaller stature than most warriors, though he was far from what she'd call normal. He stood in the doorway that led to the rest of the small craft.
"I have something to show you," he added. There was energy in his step as he turned and walked quickly away.
She followed him into the hallway. The door closed behind her. He went one door down, to a small conference bay filled with benches around a round table. A three dimensional projection of the planet swirled lazily on top of the table.
Kiera's eyes took in the familiar sight. The console was used for battle planning, too, a duty she'd been officially handed by A'Ran after she mastered their system. Instead of displaying the positions of warships and spacecraft, the model showed the red-orange planet - and a speck of green Mansr had magnified to many times its original size.
He pointed to it.
"What is it?" she asked.
"That is grass."
"My grass? That I made grow?"
"I presume so. We picked it up a few moments before you returned to the ship."
She drew closer, a smile tugging up the corners of her mouth.
"It's growing."
"No way!" she exclaimed.
At his pause, she guessed the translator had tripped over her slang again.
"That's great," she added. "How fast?"
"Not fast enough. And without direct sunlight, it'll be dead by tomorrow."
Kiera frowned. "A'Ran said you had to clean up the air first."
"We do. Our remaining friend on the Planetary Council is offering to help."
"I like Jetr," she murmured. "He's been good to us."
"He is able to see beyond today. He knows the return of Anshan will mean the return of the grey metal, and he'll be first in line to receive it."
"You think he's shady?" she asked, turning.
Mansr raised an eyebrow.
Darn translator. "I mean, not trustworthy?"
"I am old and jaded, nishani."
"But you're wise," she pointed out.
Mansr dipped his head in a polite way of saying he wasn't about to answer.
"He'll have a long time to wait. Cleaning up the planet isn't going to happen fast."