Thankfully, so was the human lying on the couch, his clear canister of a head resting on a pillow.
Leo had feared the worst when the socket in Mac’s chest popped and sizzled, an electric-blue arc dancing around it, followed by a thin tendril of white smoke. The spider, the virus—whatever it was the Djarik had unleashed to defend its data mine—had somehow worked its way across a seemingly endless stretch of space, attacking Cerebro and the man connected to it, causing him to slump out of the dentist’s chair and collapse to the floor.
“Is he dead?” Leo asked, panicked. Mac had no eyelids to flutter or lips to move. But then his chest rose and fell, his perfectly normal lungs taking in air from the vents near his voice emitter.
“Not dead yet,” came the crackling response.
Boo had carried Mac out to the couch and Leo followed, kneeling down beside him. The headless hacker’s optical sensors focused on Leo. “I’m sorry. I tried. I couldn’t find anything about your brother. But that doesn’t mean he’s not alive. The Djarik may have him, too. And even if they don’t, you still can’t be sure. Anything is possible.”
Says the man who once had his head chopped off and then reattached. Leo blinked away a tear. This man had done him a favor, and the Djarik had nearly killed him from halfway across the galaxy for it, yet he still felt the need to apologize.
“Don’t be sorry,” Leo said. “You were fantastic. You found my dad.”
He’d done more than find him, in fact—he managed to download the coordinates of where Dr. Fender was being held. But that was all the information Leo was getting; the Djarik made sure of it. The bug they’d sent had completely infiltrated Cerebro’s mainframe, poisoning it, sabotaging it so that Dev had no choice but to shut the whole thing down.
“It’s completely infected,” he said, reentering the room with Captain Black in tow. “It’s going to take days, maybe weeks to fix. We won’t be plugging in again anytime soon.”
Not that it mattered. Even if their system was working, Leo could tell by the tone of his voice that Dev had reached the limits of his charity. Baz was out of records and Leo didn’t think another kiss from the Queleti would get them very far. The jacker in the swim trunks was clearly unhappy. With the Djarik for crippling their rig and almost frying his friend. With Baz for showing up at his door. Even with Mac for agreeing to do it in the first place, though underneath the scowl, Leo could sense relief that his partner was okay.
“Got my excitement for the day, at least,” Mac said. “I thought my brain was going to boil.”
Leo definitely would not have wanted to see that. He whispered a thank-you close to where he guessed Mac’s hearing sensors were located.
“It’s a dangerous universe,” Mac said. “Our kind have to stick together.”
Our kind. Maybe he really thought Leo was a pirate. Someone outside the Coalition. Or maybe he just meant as human beings. That last part he could agree with.
With Mac back on the couch, it was up to Dev to see them out, which he did promptly, insisting they’d caused enough trouble. “You got what you came for. Here are the coordinates for your nav system,” he said, handing Baz a datachip. “And these are for the road.” He held up a box. Leo stared at it—the red bubble letters set against the blue and white background.
“Are those—?” Baz began.
“Twinkies, yeah,” Dev said. “Don’t ask me how I got them or how old they are. The package says best by March 2052, but I’m pretty sure that’s just a suggestion. I’m only giving them to you because I don’t like them, and Mac . . . Let’s just say that Twinkies are hard to squeeze through a feeding tube.”
That was one question answered, at least.
Dev handed the box to Baz and then glanced over at Kat. “There’s still time for a kiss goodbye,” he said. “Considering everything you just put us through.”
In answer Kat made a gesture with her cybernetic fist: heart goes squish. Dev took the hint and a wise step back, then addressed the captain. “Do me a favor, Baz: don’t come back here for a while.”
“And good luck finding your father,” Mac called out from the couch, waving one hand over his cylindrical head.
Leo looked over at Baz to gauge his reaction, wondering what the captain of the Icarus intended to do with the information he’d paid for, but Bastian Black didn’t meet Leo’s eyes. “Enjoy your Bowie,” he said, before turning and walking through the door into the bracing Vestran wind, followed by a still-glaring Kat and a lumbering Boo.
Leo was the last to leave. As he stepped through the doorway he felt Dev’s hand on his arm, staying him just long enough to lean in.
“Be careful out there, Leo Fender.”
The door shut behind him.
The day they left, Leo’s father took the sign off the door. It was a smooth wooden plaque, walnut stained, scrolled at the corners. The name Fender had been burned into it in fancy roman lettering. It had been a housewarming gift so many years ago. He told the boys to go get in the car while he made sure everything else was in order—the enviro-stat set, the air filters running. The people who had bought their house were moving in the very next day and he wanted it to be comfortable for them. Always thinking of others.
The doors on the Beagle weren’t like the doors on their house. They were all metal and activated electronically, sliding smoothly into a crevasse in the wall. It would be impossible to hang a sign on one: it would get knocked off every time the door opened. Instead, there was a little silver plaque above the entry controls that said 74A. Their new permanent address, Leo thought: 74A, Main Deck, the Beagle, God Knows Where. That’s what he would put on letters to Amos and Mrs. Tinsley—if there were such a thing as letters anymore.
They were given a day to adjust. One day to unpack and get used to their new surroundings before those surroundings launched into space. There were orientations and tutorials scheduled throughout the day—how to use the showers, how to access the network, how to avoid potential radiation exposure—but before they started, Leo’s father took them on a tour.
He showed them the labs where he would work, the three separate mess halls where they could eat. The exercise bay. The entertainment lounges. The observation deck where, just a day from now, they would be able to stand and watch their marble of a planet spinning on its invisible axis. He lectured them on the wonders of artificial gravity (in his opinion, only the fourth greatest Aykarian invention), and explained where their water would come from—thankfully not from their own urine like Gareth had been teasing.
They toured the engine room and the life-support systems. He took them to the hangar where he promised they would have plenty of room to play catch and let them sit at the controls of the shuttle and pretend to fly it. He showed them where the ventasium was stored. “We have plenty. There’s nowhere we can’t go.”
Nowhere, Leo thought, except for back home.
Eventually they made it to the bridge where they met the captain, one Arisu Saito. She greeted them with both a bow and a salute. “Welcome aboard the Beagle,” she said. “I’m honored to have you among my crew.” Leo was impressed by her many medals. Gareth, of course, was impressed by the energy pistol slung at her side.
“Hope I never have to use it,” Captain Saito said. “This is a science vessel. Our mission is research. After all, we have one of the sharpest scientific minds on the planet standing right here.” Dr. Fender shook his head. Leo thought maybe he was turning pink, though he should be well used to flattery by now. “Seriously. Your father is an asset to the Coalition. It is my duty to see that he has what he needs. So as his children, you boys feel free to come to me for anything. Understood?” Captain Saito bowed to them again and Leo and his brother bowed back.
Leo liked her well enough. But he knew she was lying. She couldn’t get him any of the things he wanted. He wanted his cat. He wanted his old bed and his lumpy pillow. He wanted to ride his bike through his neighborhood and lie in the hammock with his brother in the sunshine. Captain S
aito couldn’t give him any of those things, but he said thank you anyways and told her he was excited to be on board. No doubt she could tell he was lying too. He didn’t really care.
After circling the entire ship they finished at their bunk room again. Leo took in the steel-framed beds, the empty shelves, the blank walls.
“So,” his father began, rubbing his hands together—a habit of his whenever he got excited. “What do you think?”
“It’s pretty cool,” Gareth said. “I like the workout stations. And the game room. And everybody seems friendly. It’s got pretty much everything. Except, you know, grass.”
“Lucky for you. You were just getting old enough to mow it. What about you, Leo? What do you think of our new home?”
Leo knew what he should say—what his father wanted him to say, and it wouldn’t even be a complete lie if he did. The ship was remarkable, just like his father promised. But it wasn’t the same as home.
“I hate it,” Leo muttered under his breath.
“You can’t hate it,” Dr. Fender countered.
“Well, I do,” Leo insisted. “It’s cold. And the hallways are narrow. Everything’s made of metal and the whole place smells weird, not like our house, more like antiseptic. And we aren’t allowed to have pets. And there are no other kids my age besides Gareth. And it just sucks.”
He knew he was being a brat, but he couldn’t help it. His father could force him to be here, but he couldn’t force him to like it.
Dr. Fender sat on the bunk between his two sons. “I know what you’re going through,” he said. “It’s a big change. Another big change. Sometimes things are uncomfortable just because they’re different,” he said. “But then, sometimes, different is exactly what you need.”
“I don’t need this,” Leo muttered. “I don’t want this.”
“Maybe not now. It’s going to take some time. But I need you to try, Leo. You know, when the Aykari first made contact even I was scared. Me. A scientist who had studied space travel, who firmly believed that alien life was out there somewhere. But when they first showed up, I didn’t know what to make of them. Were they good? Would they hurt us? Had they come to teach us or to conquer us? It took time. Time for them to prove themselves. And thankfully we gave them the chance. Think of what would have happened if we had attacked them at first sight? If we had greeted them with tanks and fighter jets instead of an offering of peace? They would have had no choice but to defend themselves. And they would have wiped us out.
“You have to give it a chance, Leo. I know there’s no one on board your age, but the people on this ship—you will get to know them and you will learn to like them if you try. They might even become like a new family to you.”
“I don’t want a new family,” Leo said. “I already have a family.” They were all sitting in this room.
Leo’s father nodded. “True. But it might not hurt to make some new friends.”
Dr. Fender seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment, then he slapped his hands on his knees. “Here. Maybe this will help.” He stood up and scanned the pile of bags they hadn’t bothered to unpack yet, finding the one he wanted. He unzipped it and pulled something from the top. The walls were metal too, of course, so without a magnet there was no way to hang it yet, so his dad set it on the desk across from the bunks, leaning it so that it wouldn’t fall over.
“Everything will be all right as long as we have each other,” he said.
Leo stared at the wooden plaque with his name burned into it. He wanted it to be enough. He wanted to nod and let his father know that he trusted him—and if he said it would get better, then it could only get better. But all he could do was stare at the wooden sign that used to hang on his front door and think that it had once been a living thing. It had once been a tree.
And he might never see one of those again.
Leo’s body shook. His teeth chattered. Kat’s jacket put up a good fight, but the wind was too strong, its teeth too sharp. It somehow wormed inside.
Like Dev’s last warning, which continued to wriggle and writhe in Leo’s head.
Be careful out there, Leo Fender.
That’s all Dev had said, leaving it to Leo to fill in the blanks. Careful with what? With whom? With Black and his crew? With the Djarik? Be careful with the information he was given? How are you supposed to be careful when your life is basically in the hands of a pirate? Especially when you don’t know what his intentions are.
Thankfully, Leo wasn’t the only one wondering what Black was thinking.
“So what’s next, boss?” Boo asked, shouting to be heard above the roar. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan,” Baz yelled back, “is to have a drink.”
The captain led them across another suspension bridge to a much larger tower with a promenade sporting a dozen different establishments: repair shops, an infirmary, a handful of markets—all stationed behind thick metal walls. No one dared peddle their wares outside for fear that the wind would steal them and send them plummeting to the rocks below. Baz stopped outside what looked to literally be a hole in the wall. The glowing orange sign hanging over the hole was written in a language Leo couldn’t read. The smell coming out of said hole was less than appealing. Leo’s nose and forehead wrinkled.
“Don’t worry,” Baz said. “It’s not one of those kinds of places.”
“What kinds of places?” Leo asked.
“You know. Your wretched hives of scum and villainy. Not everyone without a Coalition patch is a criminal or a terrorist. Most everyone in here just wants to be left alone.” The captain peeked inside, got a good whiff himself. “Okay. Maybe it’s a little on the wretched side. But the drinks are cheap.”
He disappeared through the hole and Kat followed. Boo had to duck. “Come on, Leo,” he said. “You don’t want to stay out here. You’ll blow away.”
And even if I did, Leo thought, where would I go?
Once inside, the place reminded Leo a lot of Kaber’s Point. Strange, discordant music trickled out from a back room. Leo’s boots stuck to the floor, but he was afraid to look down and see what he was stepping in. He followed Baz to an empty table in the corner, taking in the other patrons, none of whom were human. None of whom gave Leo a second glance. Baz was right: everyone here looked like they just wanted to be left alone. Leo was happy to oblige.
“I think I’ve been here before,” Kat said as they took a seat. “This is where I broke that fool’s wrist and you cheated him out of all his money.”
“I didn’t cheat him,” Baz said. “I asked him if he wanted to arm wrestle you. His fault for not asking which arm.”
The server—a five-legged alien with translucent eyes and crystalline blue skin that Leo wanted to touch (he imagined it would be cold, like holding an icicle)—skittered up to take their order. Baz asked for something called a Malvantian mindblast. Boo asked if they had any distilled amber of the Siruvean sun tree. They did not. Kat ordered a water and Leo followed her lead. No matter where you went in the universe, it seemed, the combination of two hydrogen and one oxygen atom was on tap. Even the evolutionarily superior Aykari needed water to survive, though they somehow absorbed it through their skin. Like sweating in reverse.
“Chow time.” Baz reached into his satchel and dug out the bent white box with its bright red letters, tossing Leo a pack and taking one for himself. Kat snapped her fingers, insisting on her share. Divvying up the booty—that was one thing pirate movies got right, at least.
“Is it plant-based?” Boo asked. “It doesn’t look plant-based. It looks like something extruded from a Terrifalid’s anus.”
“What an appetizing thought,” Kat said, though it didn’t stop her from digging in.
Leo broke the crinkly wrapper, putting the open package to his nose. It smelled like birthday cake. Leo hadn’t had birthday cake in years—birthdays aboard the Beagle were usually celebrated with freeze-dried ice cream—but he couldn’t bring himself to take a bite. Not with the th
ought of his father sitting in a Djarik cell somewhere all alone. The gnawing ache in his stomach wasn’t hunger. Leo needed to be doing something, not just sitting here. He needed to get those coordinates to the Coalition somehow. He needed to find out what happened to his brother.
He also needed a drink. He realized just how thirsty he was, how rough his throat felt, when their server set murky cups of water in front of three of them and a larger tankard in front of Baz. Whatever was in the tankard was potent; Leo could smell it from across the table. The captain took a swallow and coughed. “That will wake you up in the morning,” he said.
“So will a sunrise,” Kat countered. “And it won’t give you a headache afterward.”
“I already have a headache,” Baz said, glancing at Leo. He took another swallow. This one seemed to go down easier.
Baz removed the circular datachip from his jacket, flipping it between his fingers, much like Leo did with a playing card before he made it disappear. The datachip was more like the size of a coin. Easy to palm. Easy to pocket. Easily misplaced.
“Can I see it?” Leo asked.
Baz rolled it between his fingers one more time before it vanished, secreted away back in his jacket. “I think I’ll hold on to it for now,” he said. “Just to keep it safe.”
As if anything within twenty feet of Bastian Black could ever be considered safe. Leo took a drink of water. It tasted better than it looked. Or maybe he was too thirsty to care. “So what now?”
“I’m working on it, ninja turtle.”
“But we have the coordinates. We know where he is,” Leo pushed.
“I said I was working on it.”
“What does that mean?” Leo said, his voice rising, forgetting, for the moment, just who he was talking to.
“It means let me finish my drink,” Baz said coolly, giving Leo a long, hard stare. Leo could tell that Boo and Kat were feeling the same as him, trying to anticipate the captain’s next move. But even they couldn’t predict what would come out of his mouth.
Bastian Black glanced around the room, taking in the tarnished tables and cracking walls, the overlapping stains on the floor. He set down his drink but kept both hands on it, as if he was afraid someone might take it, and leaned back in his chair. “How much do you think it would cost to buy this place?”
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