by E L Strife
Kios stirred against Bennett’s side.
Bennett studied Atana’s features until he was sure he had every curve memorized. He replayed the sound of her laugh intertwined with his from the Jesiar fields, the sight of her tender caring of Kios, and the way the light from her S.I. illuminated the curves of her face in a darkened hallway as it sent out successive Warruck-chasing fireballs.
“What?” she mouthed.
He wanted to linger in the moment with the two of them. Bennett had arrived at the perfect time to save her from being shot. The timing couldn’t have been cut any closer. She stood here, touching him now because the universe wanted this or at least permitted it. With Kios adopting him, however backward it was, Bennett felt the first notion of having his own family. It was always an understood impossibility because of the Code. Sure, Atana wasn’t his; neither was the boy. But family, in his mind, hadn’t been made of blood and bone bonds since he was eight. It was a choice to be loyal to, to fight for, and to sacrifice for someone. And he knew he’d do all three without hesitation.
Azure too. Because he mattered to Atana and Kios.
After the events that morning, Bennett couldn’t stomp out the desire to feel her skin against his, reassure him she was real and alive and safe. He took a daring step toward her. When she didn’t pull away, he let himself nudge the boundary again and dipped his nose close to hers. With the lightest touch, he caressed her satiny cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I would’ve lost my shit if anything had happened to you.
Atana’s fingers stopped moving, and she peered up at him as if in a trance. “W-why do you think the Linoan wanted Kios?”
Warm breath fell over his lips, sending Bennett’s mind spinning. “He’s La’kian.”
La’kian? She studied the boy sleeping in his arms.
“The Linoan wanted you two because you are the last La’kian descendants in the universe. Or so my father says.”
Her hands slid down his chest like they were forgotten.
“I don’t think all of Command knows about you. I get the feeling certain people do, like Rio and Hyras.” A reemerging headache forced him to squint.
“We’re La’kian?”
“Kios is the composition of your father: half Xahu’ré, half La’kian. La’kian is an Elite race, Origin specifically.”
“As in, formed in the same era of the Suanoa?” she breathed. “Us three then?”
Bennett chewed a cheek and nodded. “Each Elite has a purpose, derived from how they evolved. Mirramor reflect those they care for because they’re capable of such extreme physical empathy. Orionates are the shields, born of metals and metalloids, with loyalty and devotion beyond death. Primvera bring light to the shadows of mind and soul. They are fearless warriors who lead those afraid of the dark.” His jaw slacked. “But La’kian live in the shadows. And even with what I am, and the information feed, the best way I can describe it, I have to admit there is little known information about La’kian.
“You are the only one left truly capable of raising Kios. His spark needs contact with yours to develop properly or he’ll—” Bennett stopped himself.
Realization washed over Atana’s face. “Or he’ll end up like me: lost, angry, and impulsive.”
He ran a hand over his mouth in thought, trying to listen to the feelings stirring inside. “I think the universe is more concerned with his spark rotting like Suanoa.”
“But I don’t know much about this.” She held out her hands. Her fingertips illuminated a soft blue that crept down her palms and into her arms. “It’s a hit or miss experiment.” She trailed off when Kios shifted against Bennett’s side.
Bennett cautiously adjusted his grasp on the boy. “Nakio, in recent days, I’ve realized it doesn’t matter what we wish we were, wish we had, or don’t have. We are what we are. The universe gives us the life we have because it knows we are strong enough to live it.”
A timid smile crept up her cheeks. “That’s what I told Teek before the mutiny. Funny hearing it from you.”
Bennett watched her curves take on a golden sheen and looked away, knowing his eyes were changing again. He couldn’t explain everything he knew anymore. But the universe’s power over him was obvious enough. “Kios needs you. You’re the closest thing to his real mother that exists now.”
Atana frowned. “The Suanoa took his mother and father, his home sector, everything.”
“Not his love.” Bennett freed an arm to trail a finger down her arm.
Releasing a quiet breath, she lifted her hands toward the boy. Don’t underestimate them, Jameson.
Carefully doing the transfer, Bennett drank in her warm exhale. Deep inside, he knew pretending she was his was all it could ever be because of what he was becoming.
Emptiness consumed him with hungry force.
Begging for one more touch, he squeezed her shoulder lightly then headed to his door across the hall. Try to get some sleep, beautiful.
“You too, Jameson.” Her whisper was sweet syrup in his ears.
Bennett looked back at her as she pushed the door open to her room, imagining it was the spare across the hall in his beach house. Even bruised and cut, she moved with grace.
Kios always melted against her.
UP’s merciless assassin.
When Bennett entered the shadows of his room, he waved his hand at the lightswitch. The ceiling brightened. Every day his respect for her grew as did the universe’s pull on him.
Picking up a fresh set of clothes, Bennett discarded his charred t-shirt and pants in the trash bin and changed.
He didn’t need rest.
Resituating his gear belt around his waist, he stepped into the hall and stared at her closed door.
He couldn’t rest.
Bennett had tactical plans with gaping personnel holes that had to be filled and prepared by tomorrow. Earth and Agutra’s time was running out.
—Threads of War—
Chapter 31
BENNETT STRAINED AGAINST THE URGE to kill former Sergeant Reju where he sat. The man’s posture was too proud. His black eyes stared them down with self-righteous arrogance. A wristlock held Reju’s hands together in front of him. Still, Bennett had to keep his distance to maintain his control while listening to the man’s thoughts through Ether.
Replacing the shepherds in his carefully-designed crews that morning had been an exhausting and upsetting process. Most of the shepherds lost had been with their co-shepherds. Still, individuals had to be reassigned to unfamiliar teams.
Reju didn’t look like he felt an ounce of remorse. A sickening level of joy was written across his face today.
Atana sat at the table with Baern across from Reju. They’d interrogated Claymor and Dieshi earlier. The woman had been the first to be caught. Claymor was the first to break, to admit he’d conspired with the Linoan, Gark, under the command of Claymor to take care of the sparks. They’d found him on a collector and hidden him during the return to Earth to drop off civilians.
But Reju wouldn’t break. He was a total and utter snot.
“What is this? Good cop, bad cop, girl cop?”
Atana lunged out and slammed a fist across his face, splitting his cheek open. “Which one am I again?” She growled.
“Sergeant Atana.” Baern grabbed her arm and calmly directed her back into her seat. “This behavior solves nothing.”
Bennett pushed off the wall and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. He hadn’t said a word to Reju yet. He’d probed through Ether repeatedly, finding nothing more than he already knew. Reju was putting up a fight.
“So, what was in it for you?” Baern asked Reju.
The man scoffed, his locked wrists dragging across the table. “You only ask that question because you’re trained to. You don’t even know what it means to want things.”
“You made sacrifices to get here, gave up your freedom, your life for a cause,” Baern continued, unfazed by the accusation. “Why?”
“And you didn’t
?” Reju scoffed and curled forward, pointing at Baern and Atana. His eyes slid up to Bennett. “Let me ask you this: did you not lose your freedom when you became a shepherd? Do you not kill to protect your system of order? How about the smaller sacrifices? Friendship, family, love?”
“Our purpose is greater than that of an individual,” Baern defended. “You used to know that.”
“Bah!” Reju’s hands fell to the table with a clang. He slumped back in his seat. “I never wanted that. The glory seemed interesting. But there was always someone watching, someone to take the fun out of everything.”
“Who?” Atana asked.
Reju looked at her for a long moment. “Command, of course.”
The delay made Bennett pause and close his eyes. Why was the response not prompt if it was an answer we’d all know?
Images of other Linétens formed up in a bunker swerved through his mind. A male shouted orders. Diagrams marked dirty glass walls. Bennett scoured Reju’s memories of the schematics and caught a nameplate on a desk.
“Command, yes, but not this one,” Bennett countered, glaring down at the man. “How does Commander Conak sound?”
Reju’s gaze solidified on Bennett. “And what of the kiatna you’ve killed who didn’t deserve to die?”
“Be specific,” Baern directed.
“Everyone.” Reju tried to gesture at the station beyond the door, but the chain attached to his wristlock clanked to its max. “There’s no balance in UP. You kill, but you are not, yourselves, killed.”
Atana snorted. “I’ve died more times than I have fingers and toes. Besides, we’re all orphans; we already lost life as children. They saved us, gave us a chance to protect others. A chance you threw away.”
Reju clapped and leaned close like a mother approving of a child’s artwork. “You rationalize things so well, Sergeant Atana. It’s no wonder you’re their favorite.” He sat back in his seat. “Freedom should mean freedom, not partial or half-ass freedom with insane rules and laws. That’s self-defeating hypocrisy. Now they take our rights from us because we are Linéten?”
Atana cocked her head. “We took none of your rights on Earth.”
Fury tensed Reju’s face. “Command told every shepherd Linétens were as bad as Linoans. That we were traitorous and deceptive. They mandated training so we, you, would know how to kill Linétens! You do not understand how that feels because they did not command you to kill your own kind!”
Bennett had to admit the man had a point. “It is odd, though, you are Verros, yet you do not wish to be labeled as related to Linoans.”
Reju bared his teeth. “Those asses rub it in our faces every chance they get—that they were chosen over us to work for Suanoa. We thought we finally turned the tides on them.”
“And you want to talk hypocrisy?” Atana snapped, her skin coruscating with blue light. “You didn’t have to kill innocent shepherds to accomplish that goal.”
“Blue ball of fire.” Reju laughed and pointed at her. “Does she even know what a blue ball is?” He scanned between the Baern and Bennett. “Do you?”
“Yes,” Bennett growled.
“So you were planning on taking over the world?” Baern asked.
Reju rolled his eyes so hard his head joined in. “Ha! God no. We don’t want your shit world. Revenge against the Primvera in hiding? Yes. Species war.” He lifted a shoulder in casual disregard. “Revenge for you ruining our life here? Yes. Our Verros/Kronos movement is beyond your business.”
The way Reju said “revenge” made Bennett’s head spin.
Ships like frayed clusters of dark, metal rods fired orange rockets at ships of glass and chrome and light.
“I think you hold an unrealistic grudge against the Primvera,” Bennett said.
Reju slammed his fists against the table. “They let our last princess die! We have no royal line because of them!”
Bennett arched a brow. “All of the royals before her were your responsibility.”
Reju’s jaw locked to the side. He said nothing as he looked away.
“Is that everything you wanted?” Atana asked sweetly, looking up at Bennett.
He nodded. “I’ll tell Command where to find Conak and the others, let them know of the plans.”
Atana and Baern stood from their seats and walked out. Bennett followed but paused at the door, looking back at Reju. The man sat forward, looking shocked in his seat.
“You’re bluffing!” Reju barked. “You can’t know about Conak.”
“Actually—” Tapping a finger to his forehead, Bennett shrugged, mocking Reju’s earlier apathy. “Telepathic. So, yeah.”
Reju sank back in his plastic chair, all expression wiped from his face.
Bennett thought the man looked a little pale. “You know, all this time you’ve spent trying to take the Primvera down, you could’ve used to build your kind up, select new royals. Such a waste.” He clicked his tongue and let the door close between them.
Chapter 32
AZURE WAVED ANOTHER collector out of the bay. “It’s good. Take it up to charge.” The waiting doku, UP pilot, and gunner team Bennett had assigned to the ship tossed their gear inside and climbed into position.
“Yanir ahna niveriia vehr, diete vi ahna,” Azure said over his headset as the engines hummed to life, and the collector backed out. The booming heat of the thrusters was a welcome sensation after such cold. His veins had chilled until they were stiff as ice, his heart straining to beat like he’d reached a stage of hypothermia in the void akin with death. Atana’s light had pushed back the black clouds rolling into his Ether, a blue angel of legends.
“You say that after every ship,” Cutter remarked behind him. “What does it mean?”
The shepherd’s hands moved swift and agile over each missile as Cutter connected it to the loading assembly. Azure had learned the man didn’t enjoy touching the explosives anymore; his sensitivity had grown too great.
“The buzzing bothering you?” Azure asked as the next collector set down in the barricaded bay of the hangar.
“What are you saying to them?” Cutter asked again. When the man adjusted his grayed ball cap, he exposed a pallid face and salty rings of sweat around his t-shirt’s collar.
Taking the cart with the prepped missile, Azure tugged at the strap to ensure it was tight then rolled the cart toward the ramp. He felt like the words weren’t saying what he wanted to say to all the shepherds he might never see again. Thank you for everything. Fight strong, die well. But I pray to the stars and the universe you get to live. You deserve to. “Until your dying breath, spirits be with you.”
Azure pushed the cart up the rear ramp then down the central opening into the life-slot compartment. At the first slot, he opened the hatch and set the framed missile inside. Releasing the strap and snapping the three clamps in place, Azure tapped the re-circulate button, and the hatch closed.
Many things could go wrong with what he’d designed. Each collector had received a handful of ballistic, remote, and proximity detonated missiles. If even a single screw was two threads too shallow or too deep, it could change the way the missiles released from the collection ports and detonated. The ejections systems could freeze up, leaving the crew with an armed missile stuck on board. All it would take was a small impact to jar the warhead and cause the collector to explode. But they had few options in their remaining hours.
Across the hangar, other shepherds loaded modified UP fighters with their standard anti-satelite weaponry. Three collectors had left before Azure was released from the medical wing. The only thing he could get out of Tiisan was that Bennett had ordered special munitions packages to be delivered to the Agutra ship above, and they would return later for their missile loads. Azure didn’t like not knowing what Bennett had arranged. But his job was loading collectors. Bennett’s was planning the fight. Azure had to learn to trust him.
He exited with the cart and picked up another missile case, repeating his process.
“Atana sai
d you’re Ari,” Azure remarked, directing the filled cart toward the collector. He and Cutter had it down to a science and could load the fifty slots in under thirty minutes.
He had mostly bad memories of Ari on Agutra. The confines and the condensed level of pain every mind was under led to a concentration of telepathic signals Ari couldn’t tolerate unless they carried the rare skill of blocking the thought transmissions.
Cutter gave him a once over. “We feel thoughts in more of an empathetic sense. Some can handle it. Others, not so much. I was lucky to be put on serum. Keeps me numb to that effect. Now I see other people’s thoughts directly.”
“See them?” Azure asked. He’d never heard it put that way.
The shepherd nodded. “I see the person’s face in my mind as if I am the mirror they look into. I hear their thoughts. I see their expression. I feel what they do.”
“And the electromagnetic buzzing,” Azure added.
Cutter twisted his neck as if he were uncomfortable, but replied with a strangled, “yes.”
Azure pondered the explanation as they finished loading. Rolling the fiftieth unit up the ramp, he heard Cutter grumble to himself.
Cutter ran a nervous hand over the side of his face as he signaled the shepherds backing a small trailer in with the next load of missiles. Just ask him.
Azure paused on the ramp and listened.
No. Azure doesn’t know. Nobody sees her. Not even you.
Pushing the cart up to the last slot, Azure locked in the missile. Back on the floor, he gave the crew his blessing as he had all the others and waved them out. Then he walked up to Cutter and set a hand on the cart. “Stop for a second.”
Cutter kept his moving fingers through the sequence. “We don’t have time.”
“Fifteen minutes. In the corner.” Azure pointed to the nook on the backside of the stairwell. “You didn’t take your break earlier. Tiisan told me.”
Still, the shepherd ignored him.
“It will render your hands steady again. You are making me nervous,” Azure admitted.