The Only One

elders attempted to physically intercept her, presumably in consolation, but she thrust out two fists, keeping them at arm's length. Shaking and bloody, she admonished them in a tirade that covered everything from unreliable weapons and volatile chemicals to sloppy safety procedures. She swore they'd blasted well better fix things since she was taking Pasha's place. Things were going to change. "Destiny isn't a matter of chance," she concluded fervently. "It's a matter of choice. If we are to survive, you have to change your thinking. I have already changed mine."
    Romjha regarded her, awestruck. He was no stranger to bitterness and sorrow in all its forms, but never had he witnessed anyone strike back at fate with such fury and intensity. This young woman had taken tragedy and turned it into opportunity, clearly working to effect real changes in the way munitions were fabricated and in the procedures for utilizing them.
    What had he done after his wife's death? Absolutely nothing.
    Shame crept into his gut, and Romjha dropped his gaze to his hands. Capable hands. Strong hands. A warrior's hands. But he'd kept them at his sides in cowardice.
    Inaction was cowardice. Instead of doing something about the poor conditions that led to his wife's death, he'd become part of the problem. Careless. Apathetic. Negligent of the risks he took, as if his life meant nothing. He was one of those who vexed Taj.
    To be honest, his life didn't mean much to him. But others' did. And when you ignored the peril you put yourself in, you risked those around you. He didn't deserve the rank of raider or the accompanying privileges. Especially not in comparison with Taj, who had put the entire community on notice that she intended to use her position as a means of making things better. Safer.
    Romjha rubbed his stubbly chin. Could he not do the same? Wasn't a raider as capable of doing good?
    Couldn't he shore up their defensive installations? Tighten safety procedures? Improve weapons training?
    Not to mention what he might do to boost morale, which had been flagging lately. And as raider commander, he would have a real opportunity to change policy, to set examples and make their forays topside more than mere scavenging missions.
    Raider commander?
    Wooziness made the room spin. You're insane, man. Yeah, maybe he was. But he was good with a rifle; he could think quickly under pressure. And it just so happened that the current raider commander had been chosen because the man had been the only one absent when they held the vote! Nothing blocked Romjha from vying for the job. There, he could begin the slow process of helping his people reclaim their world.
    And more.
    His bleary gaze swerved to Taj. The women were surrounding her now, wiping the blood from her face and hands. Anger and deep-seated shame boiled in his belly. Women and children, the weak and the sick—they should be safe from war, he thought, frowning.
    Romjha's free hand balled into a fist. He would go after the warlord himself and take him out, if he could figure out a way. But there were a few minor details holding him back, such as not having a fleet of space-capable craft at his service—or any real tech at all, for that matter. Not to mention his lack of the few million soldiers that might come in handy in an attempt to trounce his people's enemies.
    But he vowed to keep his goal.
    With a surge of protectiveness, he watched Taj at last allow one of the women to take her hand and lead her away. He himself ought to be holding that hand; he should be the one to gently cleanse her, to calm her.
    To protect her.
    The urge to follow was almost unbearable. But Romjha was not yet the man Taj deserved. One day soon, he would be. And then he would make his intentions known. Body and soul, she would be his.
    Another grand goal, he thought. Moments ago he'd had none at all; now he was full of them, it seemed.
    He drew in a deep breath, squeezed his crutch until he was sure it would shatter in his hands. "Destiny is not a matter of chance. It's a matter of choice." Yes, my young Taj.
    Romjha B'kah would no longer wait for the future. No, indeed. From this day forward, he would achieve it.

Chapter One
    The echo of a distant explosion rumbled through the vast underground network of caves. In the weapons lab where she'd worked all night, Taj Sai jerked her head up and listened. She'd never heard an outside—
    "topside"—blast from deep inside these caverns.
    Her fingers clamped around