by Caryn Lix
But I wasn’t stupid, and if it came down to stunning someone or getting captured, the choice was clear.
“I didn’t kill them,” Jasper announced. I glanced over my shoulder to find Imani crouched over Bian, checking for a pulse, a slight tic working in her eyebrow. “We’d better run before they wake up.”
I hated to agree, but I nodded. Matt’s chest rose and fell, so I knew he’d be all right too. And if something was wrong on Obsidian, I had no intention of letting anyone lock me in a cell until we uncovered the truth.
“I’ll scout ahead,” Mia announced.
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “I’ll come with you.”
“What the hell for?”
I glared at her, resenting the unabashed anger in her voice even as I knew I deserved it. “I can turn invisible too, remember? If we’re together, I’ll be able to back you up, report back to the others.”
“Right. I forgot you stole powers now too. No thanks. I work better on my own.” She vanished while I was still fumbling for a response. Stole powers? I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .
Far too conscious of everyone’s eyes on me, I scowled and set off after her at a jog.
“Take it easy,” Cage murmured, catching up to me, and I realized I was using his speed again, not at full power, but definitely moving faster than normal. I forced myself to slow to a fast walk. He shoved his hands in his pockets and adopted an air of nonchalance I could only marvel at. “We have no idea what’s happening on Obsidian. It might be anything. A malfunction. Omnistellar arriving and getting mad. There are lots of nonalien explanations.”
I risked a glance behind me, but he spoke too low to be overheard. If any of the others didn’t share my fears, I wanted to keep things that way awhile longer. “I know,” I returned. “But it’s too close for comfort.”
Cage hesitated. “Kenz. If it is aliens . . . what are we going to do?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t dare even consider one. Obsidian was far bigger than Sanctuary. If aliens got loose on this station, I trembled to think of the devastation. And it wasn’t like we could just destroy the station with everyone on it, even if we had a ship. “One problem at a time,” I sighed at last. “Let’s find out what’s actually happening.” But even as I said it, something broke loose in my chest. Cage confiding in me, not hiding behind his bluster, even if it was just for a moment: that was what I needed to give me courage, more than anything else he could ever say.
Courage or not, every step, I expected to encounter one of the three remaining bounty hunters. But they apparently had their hands full and trusted Matt and Bian to take care of us. Exactly what was Matt’s relationship with these people? We’d only been separated for a little under a month. By the time they debriefed him and fused a bunch of metal to his spine, convinced him to join Legion, he couldn’t have known these hunters for more than a few days. How did they claim his loyalty over people he’d known for years?
With a rush of embarrassment, I realized the same question applied to me. Was my dad wondering that himself, sitting on an Omnistellar ship, desperately trying to figure out what had happened to his dutiful, rule-abiding daughter? Or was his only concern recapturing me? Or worse yet, alien tech?
One problem at a time, I reminded myself. Fall down seven times, get up eight.
We reached the docking ring without incident. We found it completely deserted. Red lights illuminated the space in periodic bursts, but no alarms sounded. We stepped off the ship hesitantly, Mia still invisible in front of us somewhere, me with my stun gun drawn, Alexei, Cage, and Jasper poised and ready for action.
But there was no one there. It was like one of those horror movies where a disaster sweeps through a bustling area and suddenly it’s a graveyard. The formerly busy, crowded docking area stood completely empty.
There was no sign of attack, though. Aside from a few hastily dropped tools against one wall and the creepy red mood lighting, everything seemed to be in order. All docking doors were sealed, but most of them still had the green light illuminated overhead, meaning no one was cleared to depart.
I advanced barely a step into the docking ring. Something about the silence, the red lights, the emptiness, set off warning bells in my head. The air seemed thicker, saturated with tension. I swallowed hard. “Mia?” I whispered.
She shimmered into view barely a foot in front of me. Her shoulders drew together so tightly my neck ached in sympathy. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
We’d all frozen where we entered, as if no one dared take another step. And we should be moving. We had Bian and Matt breathing down our necks, not to mention the rest of Legion. But somehow no one seemed able to do more than stand and stare.
This was ridiculous. I closed my eyes and slowly lowered my neck, stretching the taut muscles. It helped. I did it a few more times and, when I trusted my voice, I said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Where?” demanded Reed, but I didn’t answer, only set off toward the exit from the docking ring. Where didn’t matter so much right now. What mattered was action.
Because if we stood there a moment longer, I had a feeling we’d never leave.
THIRTY
RED ALARM LIGHTS CONTINUED TO illuminate us in bursts as we approached the stairwell. Not a single sound came from above as I stared up the first of twelve flights. That in itself was terrifying. Obsidian was a crowded, busy place, throbbing with life. Now it seemed utterly deserted.
Reed gave voice to my thoughts. “This can’t be good.”
“Where is everyone?” Jasper demanded.
“It might be okay,” said Alexei, although doubt echoed in his voice. “Obsidian has procedures in place in the event of a station raid. We haven’t needed them, not in a long time. But people may be gathered in bunkers, in safe zones.”
“I swear to God,” Mia muttered, “if anyone says anything about it being too quiet, I open fire.”
That at least had the effect of shutting all of us up, and we proceeded up the stairs in silence. I hoped I looked calm and collected on the surface, but my insides were roiling in fear. I barely kept my feet, my sweat-slick hands shaking around the stun gun. Get a grip, Kenzie. Before you accidentally shoot someone.
Someone else.
I winced at the memory. Somehow, I didn’t think I’d heard the last of that conversation, either. Our escape pushed pause on the argument but didn’t resolve it.
Still. I wasn’t a murderer. This last month of hell, living with Matt’s blood on my hands . . . maybe I could finally release that now. And with a bit of luck, I might be able to convince Matt to let go too. I didn’t know what exactly Omnistellar had done to him, but the Matt I knew was still in there. I’d seen glimpses of him beneath the facade. I looked to Rune, a few steps ahead of me, seeming small and ghostly in the flickering lights. If anyone could reach him, it was her.
We came to the first level of what used to be cells, now living quarters. The door was closed. I searched my memory. Had I seen a single closed door in all of my travels through Obsidian? “Alexei?” I asked softly.
Before I got any farther, he shook his head. “I thought they’d welded these doors open.”
We exchanged glances. “Rune?” I asked at last.
She slid past me, strangely hesitant, still refusing to meet my eyes. Rune was always slow to act, except where computers were involved. There, she dove in with, if anything, an overabundance of enthusiasm.
Now she paused by the panel, running her fingers over it as if stroking a timid puppy. Cage laid his hand on her shoulder and spoke to her in Mandarin. I felt like I was intruding on their conversation, but I couldn’t help overhearing: “It’s okay, meimei,” he said softly. “Whatever’s back there, we’ll handle it.”
She swallowed hard. “Cage, you don’t think . . . It can’t be them, can it?”
“Of course not,” he said, too quickly. “I’m sure the residents closed the door themselves when the alarms sounded.”
It was a good point, and it brought me up short. But Cage continued without missing a beat: “Alexei’s a Danshov. No one’s going to mess with him. We’ll be fine.”
Alexei’s eyes slid in Cage’s direction at the sound of his name, and then toward me, but I only shook my head. I couldn’t begin to imagine how I’d explain the gist of the conversation, and it felt like a betrayal to try.
At last, reluctantly, Rune slid her fingers into the panel, and the door shuddered open.
We stared into a prison larger than any of the ones on Sanctuary. We couldn’t see beyond the corridor’s dim depths, but I guessed where we’d find work spaces, entertainment areas, and the server room. If we got there, Rune might bond with the computer, ascertain what was going on? Cage nodded, my idea mirrored in his eyes. It was worth a shot.
We entered the hall, staying close together, even Mia within a few steps. Rune left the door open behind us. Part of me wanted her to close it, wanted the security of the metal at my back. But if we encountered something in the prison, we might have to make a quick escape.
I peeked into the first cell on our left. Ugly stained cloth draped the bars, providing the illusion of privacy. Some sort of antique hot plate stood in a corner, and a few cushions piled along a wall made a rough bed, complete with a tattered blanket. A few pieces of clothing hung along the walls, some of them a woman’s, some of them a child’s. A dirty teddy bear lay beside the cushions. Immediately, Anya came to mind. Where was she? Somewhere safe and warm on Mars, I hoped, far from the notice or attention of Omnistellar or Mars Mining or whatever horror stalked us next.
I must have stood there staring for a while, because Cage came up behind me and touched my arm. “We should get moving,” he said, barely loud enough for me to hear.
His voice startled me out of my stupor. I glanced over my shoulder to find the others watching me with varying levels of concern and suspicion. There wasn’t much room for doubt in their expressions. Imani and Reed hoped I’d take the lead, Mia, Alexei, and Jasper questioned my stability, and Rune, well . . . she was every bit as hurt and angry as I’d known she would be. At least part of it, I knew, was because I’d lied to her. But maybe some of it was because I’d shot her . . . whatever Matt was to her. Maybe Cage’s instincts weren’t so far gone. Regardless, standing and staring with tear-filled eyes at a teddy bear wasn’t going to gain me any goodwill.
I nodded, forcing a confidence I didn’t feel. “Sorry. I was just thinking. Let’s move.”
Cage pulled me along with him, slightly ahead of the others. Still in that quiet voice, he said, “All that stuff back there? That’s a good sign. If there’d been a hull breach on this level, nothing would be in its proper place like that. It’d be sucked into space, or at least thrown around.”
I nodded, accepting the wisdom of his words. His touch on my arm sent warmth arcing through me. “I know. But where are they? All the people who live here? Where are they?” Panic clawed its way into my voice, and I resolutely shoved it down.
An idea struck me. “Matt’s power. Maybe I can use it. Maybe I can sense them.”
Cage hesitated, then shrugged. “Worth a try.”
I closed my eyes. How did I go about this? Anytime I’d used someone else’s ability, it had been almost instinctual. I braced my feet against the floor, clenched my teeth, and reached out the way I would if I were trying to understand a language. I listened with my ears and my mind and my heart and searched for anything, any little anomaly that might mean life.
At last I gave up in frustration. “Nothing.”
“That doesn’t mean much. Remember, the aliens always messed with Matt’s ability.”
“Then we’re trapped,” I replied, my voice rising an octave. “All these people. There’s no way to help them.”
Cage shook his head. “They could be anywhere. In a shelter, maybe. We don’t know Obsidian’s emergency procedures.” His gaze traveled to the stun gun in my shaking hand and he asked, a little too casually, “Did you want me to take that?”
My head snapped up, steel spiking my spine. “I’m capable of handling a stun gun, Cage. Or did you think I . . . ?” I trailed off, catching the barely suppressed grin. “You’re a jerk.”
“Yeah, well, at least that’s you again,” he said, no longer trying to hide his smile.
I elbowed him in the ribs, but in only a few weeks, Cage had come to know me all too well. The challenge to my competence reawakened my drive, suppressing even my fear of the . . . of whatever stalked this station. I refused to think the word “aliens.” Not yet. Hopefully not ever.
Of course, an army of Omnistellar soldiers wasn’t necessarily better.
We reached the server room without incident. Everything was just where I’d predicted, but there were no people, no sign of anyone. “Where the hell did they go?” Mia demanded, picking up a tin cup from a nearby metal crate serving as a table. She sniffed it, then touched her tongue to it. I made a face, but she set it down and explained, “Still warm. Whatever happened here, it was recent.”
And she couldn’t have tested the temperature with her finger? “Rune?” I gestured to the server room.
This time she nodded and stepped forward with determination, sweeping her braid over her shoulder. The server used archaic technology, and it was even smaller than the ones on Sanctuary, more a closet than a room. None of us went in with her, arranging ourselves outside. Cage and I leaned against the wall by the door, ready in case she needed us. Mia, of course, disappeared. Alexei paced, muttering to himself, while Jasper, Reed, and Imani perched on crates in various poses of discouragement and fear. I wished I had words to make them feel better. I glanced hopefully to Cage, but he was staring at his folded arms, apparently deep in thought. If anyone was going to speak, it would have to be me.
“Whatever’s happening here,” I offered at last, “we’ll deal with it. I mean, we beat those assholes on Sanctuary, and that was a handful of us with no weapons, no training.”
Reed glanced at me, bleak amusement in his face. “And without Omnistellar trying to summon the damn things,” he pointed out.
“Not to mention recapture us,” added Imani.
Jasper sighed, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head, propping his feet on another crate. “You two are real rays of sunshine.”
“And you’re in such a great mood? I thought you were worried about your family,” Imani snapped. It was a cheap shot and not like her, and I read the regret in her face the instant the words left her mouth.
It had its desired effect, though. Jasper abandoned his casual pose, his mouth drawing into a tight line, his fists tightening. But his anger wasn’t directed toward her. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, I am. If anything’s happening to them, it’s my fault. I dragged them into this, and I can’t even call to check on them. You’re right. I should be sinking into a pit of nerves.” Suddenly he leaned forward, bracing both arms on his thighs and staring Imani right in the face. She recoiled, startled. “But I’m not,” he said. “And you want to know why? Because it doesn’t accomplish anything. All those feelings just get in the way of what needs to be done. They slow me down, and they might get me, or one of you, hurt. So I’m going to ignore them for now, and when I have time, then I’ll deal with my guilt and my fear and my anger.” He gave her a slight smile.
I closed my eyes, hearing my own thoughts so clearly echoed at me. Everything I struggled with—Mom’s death; my parents’ betrayal; Dad working with Omnistellar, the corporation I’d trusted above all, to lure in terrifying monsters out of my nightmares—none of it had a place right now.
I looked up to see Imani nodding, a hard edge in her eyes. “You’re right,” she said quietly. And then: “I’m sorry I said that. About your family.”
Jasper sank into his seat, once more the picture of a man at rest. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all on edge.”
“You can say that again,” Reed muttered, shifting from foot to foot as if expecting an alien to fall from the sky. Not that we hadn’t seen that before. I glanced at the ceiling nervously. Something else to worry about.
“For many reasons,” agreed Alexei, staring at his feet. “Not least because someone we thought was dead is alive.” He raised his head and pinned me with his cold gray gaze.
I winced, but before I could answer, Rune’s scream echoed through the room.
THIRTY-ONE
CAGE AND I STUMBLED OVER each other in our rush to reach her side. My heart jackhammered into my throat as images assaulted my mind: Rune bleeding, everyone torn to shreds on the floor, bounty hunters holding them at gunpoint . . .
But she was alone, on her knees, clutching her head. Cage dropped and caught her face in his hands, turning it, apparently searching for damage. “Are you hurt?” he demanded in Mandarin, the words stumbling over themselves. “What happened?”
Rune shook her head, although tears streaked her face. “I found . . .” She choked on the words, her entire body trembling. I exchanged mystified glances with Imani. I’d seen Rune panic before, but not like this. What had she found?
“She was looking for the source of the hull breach,” Reed pointed out quietly. “Rune? Did you find it?”
She nodded. “I . . .” She dragged a hand across her face, then pushed Cage away. “You . . . well, you better see for yourself.” Shrugging free of her brother, she returned to the control panel. “Go back to the other room.” An eerie flatness settled into her tone, as if she was afraid to let even a hint of emotion break through. “Please. It’s too crowded in here, too . . .” Her voice almost broke on the last word, and we scrambled to retreat. I knew exactly what she meant, though. Too claustrophobic. Too reminiscent of the alien ship, of a cell, of hiding from aliens on Sanctuary.