Hybrid: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 4)

by Valerie J Mikles

  “Done,” the tattoo artist said, turning off the instrument. Kerris extended his arm, holding it side-by-side with Nalia’s so they could admire the complementary leaf designs. The color was dull green on their skin, but for every half-decade of marriage, they would reaffirm with a new leaf and a new color. The nurse came next, cleansing and covering the tattoos with a bandage, bringing a fresh wave of pain.

  Nalia rubbed Kerris’ cheek, thumbing away the few tears that had fallen.

  “I love you,” Kerris said, leaning in for a kiss, fighting to rein in any emotion that could bely his telekinetic power.

  “You’re worried about your sister,” Nalia said, pulling back enough to speak, but continuing to nuzzle.

  “My thoughts stray often in her direction,” Kerris confessed. “I’ve been caring for her my whole life.”

  “We can make space for her to live with us,” Nalia offered.

  “No. No, she intrudes enough,” Kerris chuckled. They’d had the conversation several times before, from the moment she’d proposed marriage, but in every previous one, their positions had been reversed. “She has a father and mother here. Now it is time we make her an aunt.”

  Nalia laughed against his lips and straddled his lap. “Please don’t ever phrase it like that again.”

  This wouldn’t be their first night together, but the connection felt new, because there was a mark on his wrist saying it was forever.

  “Ahh!” Liza’s scream was unmistakable.

  There was a loud crash in the kitchen, and Kerris jumped out of bed to help his sister. A second crash sounded, and Liza landed on the floor.

  “Oomph,” she grunted. “That re-entry is rough.”

  “Liza!” Kerris cried, falling to his knees, scooping her into his arms. “You’re back. You’re okay.”

  “Easy, there, big brother. I got a few bumps in that fall,” she snickered, wriggling around to give him a hug. The furniture rattled, then the walls. Kerris didn’t care. The visitors thought the earthquakes were natural.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Kerris whimpered. “I’m sorry for ever wishing you gone.”

  “What are you talking about, Kerris?” she laughed, tickling the scraggly stubble on his cheeks. “I thought I’d take a few minutes to patch Hawk up. What are you crying about?”

  “You’ve been gone for days,” he said, pressing his cheek against her hand.

  “Days?” she repeated. He felt an influx of visions, some inscrutable shapes and colors, others memories from Hawk’s mind. Kerris pulled back, abhorring the invasive feeling, but knowing she wanted him to understand.

  “Did it work? Did I heal him?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “I don’t know,” Kerris said. “I haven’t seen him since you disappeared. He doesn’t come into the city with the others.”

  “Has he reached out to you?” she asked. In your mind?

  “I haven’t… when you didn’t come back—” he stammered.

  Liza shook her head. “Kerris, you should have at least said hello. They must be stir crazy by now, searching for the ‘ghost of Boone.’ Do we have any crows left? I’m famished.”

  “Don’t let go,” Kerris shuddered, hugging her again, pinching his skin to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Don’t leave me again.”

  20

  Sky’s hands shook on the trigger of her grav-gun. She lay on the hull of the Bobsled, staring up at the rustling branches, the barrel of the gun pressed to the base of her chin. The concussive force of the blast would turn her brains to jelly, thus ending her too long existence, taking Spirit with her. She hoped.

  The torture had been the same for years. Whenever she closed her eyes or was surrounded by darkness, Spirit’s claws would close around her throat, choking the life out of her. Today, the torture was different. The way Spirit moved through her consciousness and tore through her arena was not malicious. Spirit’s anxiety burned like acid, lighting the arena on fire, blocking the visions. Sky’s heart raced and her body overheated. There was another spirit in the vicinity. A hybrid, according to Amanda. And she’d left Hawk in danger.

  “Settle down, Spirit,” Sky murmured, her finger tightening on the trigger. She wasn’t sure if her inability to pull it came from her will to live or Spirit’s. “I swear I’ll kill you. I die, you die. I swear.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” someone said, dropping down from the branches above. Scrambling for cover, Sky fired wildly into the trees, knocking one of the smaller branches and sending it crashing into the ‘sled.

  “Okay, fine! Kill yourself! But don’t kill me!” the young woman squealed swinging upward, disappearing into the canopy.

  “Who are you?” Sky called.

  “I’m a Scout of the Nelka. My tribe is entering the area, and our warriors will take vengeance if I am injured.” She spoke with the petulance of a child warning a bully about her big brother, and though she looked about twelve, Sky guessed she was probably closer to sixteen.

  “I’ve heard of the Nelka. Never met one before,” Sky said. Holstering her weapon, Sky sat on the lip of the cockpit, showing she was open to conversation. It didn’t surprise her that the scout neglected to give a name, or that the girl had intervened to save her life. Unfortunately, it meant that she was no longer alone with Spirit.

  The girl peered through the leaves. Her copper skin was painted with blue paste—some type of sun protection. She had long vines and tufts of animal fur woven into her wavy, black hair. What strips of clothing she had dripped with water. When the heat wave started, Sky had taken refuge in the waters of a local river more than once, although the water was almost as warm as a bath.

  “I’ve never met a tribe with personal vehicles,” the scout said. “We have wagons, but nothing so small and quiet. It must make scouting easier.”

  “It flies, too. Want to see?” Sky asked.

  “Yes,” she smiled, then frowned. “But after my tribe gets here. After you meet them.”

  Sky nodded and leaned back.

  “Why were you going to kill yourself?” the girl asked, coming down another branch, squatting so that she could see, but also so that she could spring out of the way. There were no shoes on her calloused feet, and visible scars on her arms and legs.

  “I’m old. And I’m tired,” Sky moaned. “And I’ve left my friend in danger.”

  “There’s danger in the area?” she asked, rising to full height.

  “Not here. Up the plateau where the plants no longer grow,” Sky said, pointing vaguely toward Boone.

  “Oh, the Ghost Dome,” she nodded, relaxing a hair.

  “What happened up there?”

  “I don’t know. My grandfather tells stories about the people, but they were dead before I became Nelka,” she shrugged. Her arm twitched and she looked at a device camouflaged into a ribbon on her wrist.

  “My people are here,” she smiled. “See, I received your signal and thought they were here early.”

  “My signal?” Sky repeated, looking at her Virp. The device flashed, indicating new messages, but it shouldn’t have been transmitting.

  “I have to go. We’ll fly later?” the Nelka girl said, springing down from the branches, running as soon as her feet touched the ground.

  Sky slid the Virp out of her glove mount, shutting down its transmitter signal, willfully ignoring the stream of messages. Some were text, some were voice. There were a few from Hawk, but most were from Danny, and Sky deleted them one by one without listening. Her finger slipped, and the last message started playing.

  “Hello, Sky. I know you’re listening.” Danny’s voice on the message was exhausted and exasperated.

  “Wrong, Captain,” Sky murmured, her finger poised over the delete button.

  “You’ve gotten this message. You’ve gotten the last seventeen,” Danny continued. “Ignore those, but not this one.”

  Sky hesitated. Curling up on the seat, she cradled the device to her chest. Of everyone, Danny’s was her favorite
voice to listen to when she closed her eyes. His ghost always came clearest to the arena.

  “I’m not going to ask why you left. You and I both knew you’d jump ship the first chance you got. I was hoping that chance would be in Quin. I—Why did you have to leave like that? In the middle of a fight. I thought you cared for Hawk more than—”

  Danny’s voice became muffled, probably from his finger covering the microphone while he yelled: “Yeah, Tray, I’ll be there in a minute! …No, dammit!”

  The message cut off abruptly, and Sky chuckled. The message was several days old. She looked wistfully at the Virp, wishing for a moment that she hadn’t deleted the other messages—that she could listen to the voices and hold on to the sense of belonging.

  Steeling her heart, Sky deleted Danny’s message and shut down the device. She didn’t want the Nelka or anyone else tracking her.

  Danny’s stomach growled and he chugged down the mineral-tasting well water to fill his aching belly. He’d been eating half portions to help conserve the last of their food, but no amount of rationing could stretch the food indefinitely. He could barely keep his concentration enough to rework the transmitter. They’d ripped the array from Oriana and were attaching one of the self-contained battery packs from a greeter bot they’d forced into service. His ship was no longer a lifeboat; it was scrap parts for their next lifeboat.

  “Captain?” Saskia said, the exasperated tone telling him she’d repeated his name more than once. “The battery on this bot is too small. We need to scavenge a more powerful battery.”

  “Can we use solar?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “Danny!” Tray called, charging into the city, waving his Virp over his head. “Comms are down.”

  “That happens when you gut the ship’s transmitter,” Danny sighed, plopping on the ground, burying his face in his hands. “Did you get Nolwazi back online?”

  “Base functions,” Tray shrugged. He was no further than he’d been an hour ago. “Hawk’s back online.”

  Tray pointed over his shoulder, and Danny noticed Hawk hanging back by the gate, waterlogged from standing in the never-ending rain. His shoulders were slouched, and he shuffled forward when Tray pointed.

  “Oh, thank you Zive!” Danny cried, hopping to his feet and running to give Hawk a hug. Hawk cowered from his touch, dropping to the ground to avoid the embrace. “How are you feeling?” Danny asked, squatting to make sure it wasn’t illness that had dropped the man.

  “He’s hungry,” Tray answered for him. “The hash is gone. I was afraid if I left him alone in there, he’d eat everything else. I think it’s time Amanda and I begin our quest to the forest, don’t you?”

  Danny’s stomach growled in agreement and he tapped his Feather. “Amanda.”

  “Comms are down,” Tray reminded him.

  “Right,” Danny sighed, rubbing his face. Standing again, he paced in a circle, worried that if he sat too long, he wouldn’t get up again.

  “She went hunting for drone control,” Saskia reminded him.

  Danny took a deep breath, but still felt woozy from hunger. “Why don’t you go with Saskia and I will—”

  “Fix!” Hawk announced.

  Danny looked, wondering when Hawk had moved. The man had snuck over to the transmitter, and whatever he’d done to it, Danny’s Virp vibrated confirming their distress signal was broadcasting. Hawk, took Danny’s wrist, checking the Virp (Hawk wasn’t wearing his own) and satisfied that he’d completed his task, he manipulated something on the bot to shut down the power again.

  “What did you do?” Danny asked, staring at the rig. “The battery wasn’t strong enough!”

  Hawk motioned and an ambulance droid approached, extending a platform toward him. He set the transmitter on the platform, then looked at Danny and Tray again, lips pursed. “Fly. Mount and fly,” he said. He added a few thoughts in Rocanese.

  Overwhelmed with relief that the task might be done, Danny decided not to question it further. “Ok. You mount the transmitter to the glider. I’ll find Amanda…”

  “Do you smell that?” Tray asked, his nose twitching.

  “Smell what?” Saskia asked.

  “It smells like someone’s cooking,” Tray said, wandering zombie-like toward the city.

  “Tray, you’re just hungry!” Saskia protested, grabbing his arm, but lacking the strength to stop him. Danny hadn’t realized that she was as close to collapse as him.

  “Non! Avec!” Hawk cried, chasing after Tray.

  “Hawk, you stay here!” Danny called after him. Hawk stopped dead in the middle of the street, eyes down, fingers clenched. “Let Saskia handle him. You can come with me or you can stay here,” Danny said. Hawk took a few steadying breaths, then sat on the ground, watching Tray disappear around a bend.

  “Okay,” Danny said slowly. If Hawk was taking him literally, something was wrong. “What’s going on, Hawk?”

  Hawk looked up, considering Danny. The yellow was gone from his eyes, and the sickly color gone from his skin. He looked thin, but healthy.

  “Hungry,” Hawk whispered, clutching his belly.

  “Me, too,” Danny said, rubbing Hawk’s shoulder, then giving him a squeeze. “Sit tight. I’ll fetch Amanda, and then we’ll get something to eat.”

  A greeter bot rolled up and Hawk pet it. The bot didn’t speak or complain or fine them. Danny left Hawk with the bot, and trotted into the city to find Amanda.

  “Amanda! Amanda, if you can hear me, the comms are down!” Danny called. He ran toward the street they’d been walking yesterday and moved systematically from there. The Dome had never felt so big.

  “Danny!” Amanda hollered, her voice echoing his call. He paused in the street, calling her name again, letting her come to him, relieved when she came around the corner. Her sweat-dampened clothing clung to her body, showing new curves and growing strength. She still looked severely underweight, but not nearly as malnourished as when they’d first found her. It pained him to think he might be responsible for her going hungry yet again.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Danny put both hands on his knees, panting. “Tray—food—he—”

  “I can’t leave now. I’ve narrowed it down to three blocks,” Amanda shook her head. “One more hour.”

  “What did you find? Did your Occ pick up something?” Danny asked.

  “One of Liza’s memories, I think,” Amanda said, biting her lip. “That building we were at yesterday—the drones are controlled near there. Are you armed?”

  “Just Henry. We depleted anything with a charge,” Danny replied.

  Amanda snickered, and it took him a minute to realize that after weeks of conditioning, she’d gotten him to call his knife ‘Henry’.

  “Stop that,” Danny complained. “We need to go back anyway. I left Hawk sitting with the transmitter.”

  “He’s awake?” Amanda said, her face getting pale. “You shouldn’t have left him alone.”

  “When did you become so responsible?” Danny teased, punching her shoulder.

  “When I figured out there was a hybrid living here,” she said, punching back. “I was held captive by Galen for ten years, and all anyone tried to do when I came to the surface was convince me that it wasn’t real. When Liza tried to talk to me, I didn’t know how to process it. She made me crazy. I haven’t had an episode in days. Not since she showed herself. She stopped coming after me and started going after Hawk.”

  “You haven’t been entirely even keel,” Danny allowed.

  “I think a little trauma is to be expected given our current circumstances,” Amanda argued. “How is he?”

  “Hungry and speaking mostly in Rocanese,” Danny replied. “He’s fixed up the transmitter, so that’s one task done. I want to get that safely to the ship and ready to deploy, then we can come back here.”

  “He should be able to help when we get to that building,” Amanda said.

  “Which building?” Danny asked.
/>   “The one we were about to look in yesterday right before that big quake stopped us,” Amanda replied. “There aren’t supposed to be quakes here.”

  “You say that about the rain, too, but I don’t think it’s ever going to stop,” Danny quipped, giving her a tug, pulling her back to the main square.

  “Ever since Sky left,” Amanda pointed out. “Ever since the gravitational constant shifted around the ship and kept us from taking off.”

  It was weird. As difficult as it was to diagnose the thruster issue in the weather, it was strange they hadn’t come up with another explanation for why their ship was grounded. He hadn’t connected the weather shift to that moment, but now he couldn’t imagine a better explanation. These people could have caused their own demise, playing with forces that strong.

  “Well, I know a way to test your theory,” Danny decided, sliding his hand into hers. “Go back to that building. See if there’s another quake. I can’t imagine they’d have built all these drones if they had the power to control seismic activity.”

  “There’s a losing side in every battle,” Amanda murmured, crossing her arms, putting space between them. He felt slighted by the distance, but he respected her need for independence in her lucid moments.

  “After we get the transmitter back to Oriana,” Danny prompted, giving her the chance to obey the order before he dragged her.

  “Avec!”

  Hawk’s shout split the silence. Amanda dashed to the nearest building for cover and dropped into a crouch.

  Hawk tore down the street at top speed, hugging a tiny bot to his chest. His face was damp, and Danny cringed at his short-lived recovery. Although, the man was running. Danny caught Hawk by the elbow and Hawk spun around, dropping to his knees, rocking back and forth.

  “It’s okay, Hawk. I’m with you,” Danny whispered, moving his thumb in slow circles around Hawk’s cheek. “I’m here. What’s wrong? We were just on our way back to you.”

  Hawk fumbled the bot and held it out to Danny. It was one of the smaller machines from the hospital.