by Keary Taylor
“Be careful,” a voice suddenly says into my head. “His Kinduri are everywhere. There are cameras everywhere.”
I feel my mental awareness awake, but my eyes do not slide open. I let the door into my mind open wider, and there I find Valen.
“How did you know?” I ask silently.
“It’s hard to explain,” he says. “I just got this…rush, but also this sense of calm. I just felt this connection to Neron. Whatever you’re doing, be careful you don’t do anything they can see.”
“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just doing an exercise.”
It’s like I can feel him give a little nod. “Are you still safe?”
I give a little shrug. “I’m not dead yet. I feel like I need to walk around Cyrillius with my hands pressed over my ears. The man knows how to spin anything.”
I expect some kind of response, a retort, a defense maybe. But he just doesn’t say anything.
“I need to ask you something,” I say, moving on, because it’s directly related to my question. “And you may or may not be able to answer it.”
“Alright,” he says, the confusion evident in his tone.
I take a deep breath, trying to decide how to ask this question when I’m not really even sure if it will make sense. “You say that you just can’t leave Cyrillius,” I begin. “What I want to know is what happens when you think about leaving him?”
There’s a long pause, and it’s times like this that I direly wish I could see his expressions.
“That… I don’t know what you mean by that, Nova.” His tone is gentle, kind, but confused.
I let out a sigh. I rub a hand over my face, trying to decide how to explain this. “I want you to help me with an experiment, right now.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
I nod. “I want you to imagine it, right now,” I begin. “Close your eyes and picture it as clearly and in as much detail as you can. Picture yourself on Isroth. Picture yourself collecting everything important you own. Picture yourself walking to The Black Arrow.”
It’s quiet for a beat. “Are you imagining it?”
“Yes,” he answers, with a tiny quiver in his voice.
My heart beats quickly as I imagine it with him. “Now, I want you to imagine starting the core. I want you to imagine putting coordinates in. And I want you to imagine taking off, and telling yourself that you are never going back.”
“Slag, Nova!” he swears, and it comes through with such force, I actually jerk back in my seat. In my head, I hear Valen breathing roughly, quickly.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling sorry for doing whatever I just did, but also hopeful. Maybe we will get answers this easily. “What’s wrong?”
Still, I hear him breathing hard, and I swear, I can feel his heart pounding.
“I…” he pants, trying to gather his words and thoughts. “I don’t know…”
“Did you see things?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
“Not…not exactly,” he says, his voice rough. “I just…it was like I was back on Starvis. Like I’d been running for a solar. I just feel…felt…exhausted, and terrified. And then I saw The Dominion coming back for me, and all I felt was relieved and grateful.”
I press on the door between our minds, pushing it open a little wider and Valen lets me. It’s like he grabs my wrist and pulls me down in with him, and I plunge.
I’m washed in a torrent of emotions. Isolation. Fear. Starvation. Tiredness. Hopelessness. This overwhelming resolution of death.
I’m entirely consumed.
I’m being swallowed up.
There is no bottom to this black pit.
I will keep falling and falling until I cease to exist and then I will be nothing.
Nothing.
Black.
And then there is a spark of gold light and the feeling of ascension. Rising up through the dark. Of being saved.
There is still the bad feeling. Still the dark.
But less.
“That is what you feel when you think about leaving Cyrillius?” I whisper, my voice shaking. My entire body is trembling, exhaustion taking me over.
“It’s what I felt just now,” Valen confesses quietly. “When you asked me to imagine it.”
“What about before?” I ask. I feel tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “When you imagined getting away from him, from everything? Is that how you felt?”
“Nova, it’s been solars since I thought about it,” Valen says.
“Is that because this is what you felt when you did?” I ask, feeling desperate. “Think. Think very, very hard, Valen.”
He’s quiet and I do feel this impression of him going though solars of stored memories. I feel dark times popping up. I feel lives ending. I feel screams and commands. And there are the thoughts.
Fear floods my blood.
Darkness clouds my vision.
Hunger pains stab my stomach.
Isolation brings the tears into my eyes.
And then that light sparks.
And Cyrillius whispers in my ear. I saved you from this.
“Yes,” Valen answers in a breathy voice. “It’s been there, every time I’ve ever thought about leaving Dominion or Cyrillius.”
I’m filled to the brim with emotions, and they push out as tears, even as I smile, because this is it. This is proof.
“He did that to you, Valen,” I say, my voice coming out as a shaky wisp. “We’ve always known that the Kinduri could take things out of your head. Drag out images and memories, make you say things. Valen, I think they can put things in your mind too.”
“What…” he trails off, and I hear emotions in his own voice. “What are you saying?”
I take two breaths before I answer, because when I do, everything will be different. “I’m saying that I think Cyrillius used his Kinduri on you, and made it so that you couldn’t ever even think about leaving him.”
The emotions that Valen has been letting me feel shift.
They stain red. They grow wider. Deeper.
They shift into anger.
“I came to Isroth with a very specific task in mind,” I say, grabbing hold of those emotions and letting them strengthen me. “I came here to kill Cyrillius. But every time I even think about it, something happens.”
Shoving the door between us as wide as I can, I let the bond between our minds deepen.
I imagine killing Cyrillius. I imagine sinking my hands right into his chest and pulling his cold heart out.
Screams ricochet through my brain. Even though my eyes are closed, I see lights flickering. I see the faces of everyone I’ve ever cared about. Their mouths stretch open wide, so wide they could swallow me. Their eyes are all white, they fuzz.
The screams screech and stop, completely overwhelming me.
“Stop!” Valen bellows into my brain.
I let go of my thoughts of killing Cyrillius, and the terrors end.
“That…” Valen says, his voice quivering. “That is what happens every time you think about it?”
I nod, even thought he can’t see it, but I know he can feel it.
“You have to find a way to get off Isroth, Nova,” he says, and my impression from him grows frantic. “If you can’t kill him, he’s going to use you. And if he finds out what you really are, it’ll be far worse than just building him weapons of solar destruction.”
I shake my head. “I can’t leave, Valen. I will figure out a way to fix this, fix me. I won’t leave Isroth without killing him.”
But even as I say the words, the terrors spark in my brain, ripping through me like I’m being sliced through with Zayne’s rapier.
“There has to be a way to undo it,” I say, moving on, before Valen can try to talk me out of anything. “The Kinduri put the thoughts in there, why couldn’t a Nero take them out?”
“You’re the only one of those there, Nova,” Valen says. “All the Kinduri are under Cyrillius’ employ.”
Emotions once more prick in
my eyes. Because this is so big. So above my head.
I don’t know what to do.
“Lay low, Nova,” Valen thinks to me. And I get this sensation of him standing, moving. “Do whatever it takes to stay out of trouble.”
“No, Valen,” I say, feeling desperate, because I know what he’s doing. “You have to stay-”
“Whatever it takes, Nova,” he says with a growl.
And then, just like that, he very clearly and purposefully closes the door between our minds.
My eyes pop open.
“Slag.”
By the time Commander 12-3 comes to take me to the lab in the morning, I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep even one minute. My brain was too wired, on high alert, even though there wasn’t anything I could do.
I’m trying to come up with a plan, but everything I come up with would lead to my death within minutes.
I’m just one person. Evander and Zara Nero failed to take Cyrillius down with over twenty other Nero. I get what they tried to tell me now. I can’t do this on my own.
And my one ally, the one and only person in the galaxy strong enough to maybe put an end to it all literally can’t, because he’s been mentally manipulated for decades.
I step into the brilliantly white lab and a headache sears through my brain. I squint against the light and head toward the table where Edan is already waiting for me.
“Last day,” he says quietly as I stop beside him.
“Slag,” I swear, looking up at him with panic before I can think to conceal it. “With everything going on, I didn’t even think-”
“It’s been taken care of,” he says quietly, looking around to be sure no one noticed my little outburst. “There are a few unexpected problems with The Corsair. It has some specific parts found on very few planets besides Korpillion. I stashed them where we can easily grab them when we make our move.”
“You’re slam brilliant, my friend,” I say as my fear is replaced by smug pride.
“I do my best for being a homeless street rat,” he says, and a little smile forms on his face. It’s terrifying.
I grab the sword, appreciating its weight and length. It really is a beautiful weapon. I didn’t have anyone in mind when I began making it. Really, it isn’t a good fit for anyone I know. With its length, it would have to be used by someone quite tall and strong. Really, I just wanted it to look wicked and deadly.
“Hand me the Neron,” I say, holding my hand out to Edan. He grabs the custom-shaped Neron, being extraordinarily careful. It could easily slice his hand off, its edge is wicked sharp. He carefully sets it in my hand.
My skin hums. Every single drop of my blood comes to life at the contact. I let my eyes slide closed as the feeling of ecstasy fills me.
“How the void have they not realized?” Edan hisses under his breath, his voice high pitched.
I open my eyes and realize everything around me within five feet has a slight blue glow to it.
I snap the Neron into place, severing my touch to it, and the blue in everything dies.
“We all feel slam good when we touch it, but I thought you were about to start straight up moaning there,” Edan says in a low voice with a raised eyebrow.
I feel my face flush hot pink and my eyes drop away in embarrassment.
I’ve always felt good when I held Neron. Now that I know how to wield it, the feeling has only intensified, apparently.
“Why is there blood on your hand?”
The words slip out of my mouth at the exact same time I see the smear of blood going from the tip of his right pinky, back toward his wrist.
My eyes dart up to meet his, my brows furrowed in concern.
He immediately takes his hand from the table, shrugging his sleeves down further to cover his hands. Slyly, he looks around to be sure no one is paying us any attention, which they’re not, because the other scientists still hate me, and everyone else is bored to death.
“After what we figured out, I thought that maybe if I could find the Kinduri who did this to you and end them, it might end their little mind trick.”
I gape up at him. “You killed a Kinduri?”
He gives a little nod.
“And how did you cover that up?” I demand.
“There are a lot of places to hide bodies on Isroth,” he says as a little smile begins to form on his face.
“There are hundreds of Kinduri on this planet,” I hiss, keeping my voice low. “How the void do you ever think you’re going to find the one in particular that did this to me?”
Edan’s smile grows a little larger. “By testing them all out, one by one.”
I just stare at him for a good twenty seconds, my mouth slightly agape. But then I shake my head. “You’re crazier than I thought, Edan Calwin. But have I told you yet that I love you?”
His smile grows all the wider as he looks back at me and meets my eyes. “No, but it’s nice to feel appreciated.” He says it sarcastically, and entirely in his Edan way.
My heart swells with gratitude.
There are certain people who are your soul mates. In stories, they always tell that there’s only one. And that they’re always romantic. I don’t think that’s true. Some people just have a bond, a connection. They’re sometimes strong and instant. Sometimes they’re formed by trial and time.
I don’t like people. I don’t generally trust them. Most of the time I don’t think people like me.
So my soul mates are going to take me a long time to find.
Reena and I may never be strong friends.
In the end, Zayne and I were just temporary, destined to fall back into being friends.
But my father, even though he may not be blood, sacrificed everything for me. He’s the most selfless person I know.
He’s my soul mate.
And here is Edan. Wild and crazy and tossed aside by everyone on his home planet. He’s crossing the galaxy with me, doing impossible, dangerous things.
He’s my soul mate.
“So, Valen is on his way here,” I say, changing the topic, knowing I have limited time to get him all caught up.
“About slam time something interesting happened around here,” he says as he meets my eyes.
Maybe we do need to be more careful. Because it’s about sixty seconds after I finish the sword that the doors to the lab open and in walks Cyrillius with Commander 12-3.
He always walks around with his hands clasped behind his back, which makes him look very observant. He weaves his way between the tables and comes to a stop across the table from the two of us.
“It looks as if the weapon you commissioned is complete,” he states, looking down at my creation. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Be my guest,” Edan says, extending his hand.
Cyrillius takes the sword into his hands, holding it carefully, yet confidently. It’s a strange sight. Cyrillius is a businessman, not a soldier. I can’t imagine him ever doing his own fighting. He lets others die for him.
“It’s such a unique design,” Cyrillius says, a small smile forming on his lips as he turns it over. “Such an archaic concept. The likes of which have not been fought with in over a millennium. How did you even get the idea for such a design?”
I don’t want to tell him. Because this is part of who I am. My ideas. But I’m proud of them. I’m proud of what I do, what I build.
“I saw a picture like it in a book recently,” I decide to answer honestly. “It was a history of the people of a planet that burned out eight centuries ago.”
Cyrillius smiles as he looks me in the eyes. And I hate how much admiration I see in his expression. I hate how genuine it is.
“Your mind is brilliant, Nova Ainsley,” he says, and carefully, he hands the weapon over to Edan.
It looks ridiculous in Edan’s hands. He is only two inches taller than me, and no more muscular than I am. He can only balance its weight. He couldn’t dream of being able to swing it with any kind of aim or purpose.
�
�With your commission now complete, you can get your reward payment and return to Laziria,” Cyrillius says. And as Edan requested, he extends his wrist, tapping his connect-link to Edan’s. It dings a moment later that the credits have been transferred.
Edan is now a rich man.
“Well, it’s been lovely staying with you all on Isroth,” Edan says, dipping his head in a little bow, careful not to cut himself in half with the sword. “I wish you all happy days, and many Neron-filled planets.”
He meets my eyes as he stands, offering me a nasty smile and I make sure to put plenty of venom and disgust into my expression as I shake my head at him.
And without any more words, because we’re still acting, Edan turns to the doors, and walks out with Commander 12-3.
Really, my stomach is twisting and jumping in knots. I’m so scared. I keep imagining it. Edan actually leaving on The Corsair. Leaving me alone on Isroth.
What if they see through his sabotage of the ship? What if they fix it? What if he really has to leave me behind to keep up this farce?
I take three deep breaths, telling myself to calm down. I tell myself to trust that Edan will find a way, no matter what, to keep us from being separated.
“I hope that you understand just how much I truly do admire your work, Nova,” Cyrillius says once they are gone. “Truly, it is the finest and most creative I’ve ever seen.”
“Why do I feel like you’re buttering me up for some kind of nefarious request?” I ask in a deadpan tone.
He pauses for a moment, looking into my eyes, and I have a feeling he’s exercising a lot of patience right now.
I need to be careful.
At any moment, he could conclude that I’m not worth it and decide to end me.
“Have you been treated unfairly since you arrived on Isroth?” he asks, and I see embers ignite in his eyes. His jaw hardens. His fingers curl into loose fists. “Have you been treated insolently? Have you not been given comfortable quarters and plenty of food? Have you not been given unlimited access to the best equipment you could hope for? Have you not been treated with every bit of respect since you arrived?”
His questions throw me off once more.
My greatest wish right now would be that he wasn’t so slam good with words.