But another part of her couldn’t dismiss the commander’s words as easily. Wait...Jetta Kyron doesn’t do or say anything without calculation.
“Get out of here,” Bossy said, slapping her outstretched hand away and jumping up behind her.
Retracting her hand, Agracia realized a frightening possibility: Jetta knows that I’m too smart to forget her signature—
—or to let go of the idea that there was more dimension to her character than a wayward Scabber.
“Godich,” Agracia whispered.
“What?” Bossy asked.
“Nothing,” Agracia shouted back as the wolf took off into the lonely expanse of the wasteland.
TRIEL HELD ON TIGHTLY to Jetta as Kiyiyo sprinted back to their crash site. The winds picked up, flinging dust and debris, and stirring up the swollen, brown clouds along the horizon.
Oh Gods, she thought as lightning zig-zagged across the sky. Hearing Jetta talk about the hellish firestorms on Old Earth was bad enough.
As her muscles ached for reprieve, she readjusted her hold on both the wolf and her friend. The commander faded in and out of consciousness, her speech muddled and disjointed. “Please, Jetta, stay with me. We’re almost there.”
Kiyiyo approached the crash site slowly, circling twice before deciding to approach the bay door. With alert ears and eyes, he stooped down low enough for his riders to dismount.
“Hey,” Triel said, rubbing Jetta’s sternum with her knuckles. “We’re here.”
The commander opened her eyes just a crack, enough to see where to tumble.
Just get to shelter, Triel thought, helping Jetta back up on her feet and slinging the commander’s arm around her. Half-holding up her friend, the Healer stumbled her way inside the old freight cruiser, the cold, wet nose of the wolf nudging them along. Triel coaxed the wolf inside the bay door, but he wouldn’t stray any further inside.
With a grunt, the Healer managed to shut the door against the rapacious winds. When she turned around, she found the wolf sitting on his haunches and panting heavily.
“What’s wrong?” she said. He wouldn’t relax, even after Triel cleared them a place to rest in a pile of insulation that had been dislodged from the interior walls on their initial impact. “Take care of yourself then.”
Returning her attention to Jetta, Triel untied the gear bag from the commander’s belt and rummaged for the last of their supplies.
“Here,” she said, putting one of the pills to Jetta’s lips. “You have to swallow this. We’ve been exposed for too long.”
Jetta pointed back to the bag. “You too.”
“I know,” Triel said, swallowing another black and red striped pill. It tasted terrible, like battery acid, but she washed it down quickly with a packet of water.
“We have to find a way to contact the Alliance, Jetta.” She brushed back the commander’s hair from her forehead, feeling for more than her temperature. “We can’t stay here any longer.”
“I’ll try to reach Jaeia,” Jetta offered.
That’s too dangerous. Through her fingertips, the Healer sensed a growing, distorted energy collecting around all of Jetta’s vital organs. The last encounter with Bossy nearly killed her. If she extends herself into the psionic plane again, she’ll die.
“No,” Triel said, massaging her hand. “Don’t. Just stay here with me a minute. Let me try and manage your wounds.”
“Absolutely not,” Jetta protested. With a grunt, she rolled over just enough to look Triel dead in the eye. “You need your strength, too. Don’t think I can’t still read your thoughts.”
Triel said nothing, allowing a moment to pass between them as the wind beat against their fallen starcraft. The wolf yawned, his long, red tongue curling in his mouth, and settled down on all fours as close to the exit as possible.
“I knew they’d come back,” Jetta whispered. She reached out to stroke Kiyiyo’s fur, but the wolf still refused to come inside any further. “I wonder what they got into...”
Uncertain of her own feelings, the Healer said nothing, but politely smiled.
Jetta’s eyes drifted back to her. “Hey—what was that place?” she said, scooting back against the bulkhead.
“What place?”
“When I was in Bossy’s head. I looked back into you, and I saw... a place of stones. And an old woman’s face.”
She saw Arpethea...
Her chest tightened. She couldn’t tell her about the old Seer. “She is not ready for what she must do. She will try and stop you. She will not let you fulfill your destiny.”
Or that Arpethea had demanded Jetta’s death.
“Kill the Apparax!”
And she certainly could not tell Jetta that she had done something unprecedented, unfathomable—and legendary—among the Prodgy when she had knitted Bossy and Agracia’s souls together. It made the reality of her fate more certain and visceral, and she couldn’t stand the thought. When she looked at Jetta, even in her darkest moments, she couldn’t believe anything more than what she felt in her heart.
“It was nothing. Just an old memory.”
Jetta’s face soured. “You shouldn’t lie to me.”
“You worry too much.” The Healer stroked Jetta’s arm, lacing her fingers around her own. “Jetta, I love you,” she whispered, laying beside her and resting her arm across her chest.
But Jetta stiffened and tried to roll away.
Retracting her arm, the Healer tried to withstand the crush of rejection. “What is it?” she said. “Please, talk to me. Don’t shut me out again...”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Jetta said through stiff lips. “I’m not right for you.”
Why is she doing this? Is it me? she wondered. “Jetta, I don’t understand.”
“Just, please...” Jetta said, brushing her off. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Triel rolled onto her back, away from Jetta, confused and heartbroken. Why does she push me away? She’s loving and compassionate one minute, then cold and aloof the next.
“Just let me rest,” Jetta whispered, her voice catching. “And then I’ll get us out of here, okay?”
The Healer, too exhausted to argue, reluctantly agreed. “Okay, Jetta.”
Despite her tumult of emotions, Triel found herself submitting to her own fatigue, unaware of the wolf’s agitation or the figure approaching in the windswept wasteland. Thunder tore open the skies, and lightning and fire descended from the heavens, leaving only the unfortunate and those with murderous intent on the surface of Old Earth.
Chapter IX
It was a dream, or so she hoped. The wreckage of an ancient spaceship and the charred remains of its passengers smoldered in the sodium-yellow light of the horizon.
(Who are you?) she whispered.
The thing standing before her wore human skin loosely around a reptilian frame. His eyes were the color of molten terror, his voice the sound of immeasurable suffering.
(Apparax...)
Jetta catapulted to her feet from their nest of pink insulation, heart thudding violently against her sternum. As she caught her breath, she spotted Kiyiyo pacing near the door, ears pinned to his head, hackles raised and teeth gleaming.
Something’s outside.
Still dazed and disoriented, Jetta looked back and saw Triel sleeping restlessly. Maybe it was just a dream...?
No, she concluded, seeing the wolf’s agitation. Something—someone—is out there.
As Jetta debated waking Triel, she reached for the bay doors.
What am I doing?
The wolf barked at her, but she couldn’t stop herself. When he tried to get in her way, he bounced back, as if deflected by an invisible wall.
“Kiyiyo!” Jetta cried. The wolf bowed to an unseen attacker, whining and whimpering against its blows.
Before she knew it she was outside, her body whipped around like a loose kite. Someone whispered her name, the sound rising above the crackling skies and slithering its way under her skin.
&
nbsp; Apparax...
No, impossible, she thought. Intoxicating and unbearable, the call guided her feet through the blinding storm. Just like my sister’s second voice.
Fear, more severe than she had ever known, seized her heart. And this feeling, she realized as her entire body screamed with unseen terrors. This is my talent—
When she looked with her inner eye, she saw the distinct glow of a telepathic aura before her, growing in magnitude with every step she took. Not Jaeia or Jahx—
No, this was something malevolent, an entity seething with ancient rage that she could not being to comprehend.
Thief...
Without recourse, Jetta reached within herself. Get away from me! she screamed across the psionic expanse, drawing forth her own fury and slamming it against the unknown entity.
Harsh yellow light exploded outward from the horizon, blasting the howling wasteland. Jetta shielded her eyes, but when she looked again, a humanoid figure stood before her, unaffected by her attack.
(I’m just fighting fire with fire—)
“Who are you?” she shouted into the storm as cyclonic serpents of fire danced around her.
Murderer!
Invisible hands grasped her neck and squeezed. She felt the tips of her boots leave the ground as she was lifted off her feet. The silhouette of her assailant stayed fixed in the distance, unreachable, enshrouded in glowing saffron light.
I can’t fight it— Jetta pawed at her neck, desperate to relieve the pressure crushing her throat. A deeper recognition worsened her panic: (It’s stronger than me and my siblings combined.)
In the back of her head, horrors she could have never conceived played out across waking dreamscapes.
Peeling flesh, the raw pulp of bloody marrow spewed across the gulfs—
Complete separation, total darkness.
Only terror, and pain—
Torments wrung her body and mind until she only desired the relief that death would bring.
Then something happened. Cerulean light filtered in through invisible slats. A bestial roar bellowed out from the humanoid form, wavering like an interrupted signal. The pressure slackened on her throat as her boots touched the ground, and she drew in a strangled breath.
Jetta coughed violently, but something still constricted her windpipe, and she could not regulate her breathing. Bright flashes of light exploded around her, and she fell to her knees, assaulted by opposing forces. A woman’s voice rose above the din of the storm, and the beast roared in a language that withered the last of her strength.
She closed her eyes and fell into darkness.
JETTA WOKE WITH A START, flinging off the insulation and scrambling to the other side of the entryway ramp. As she braced for an attack, she saw Triel, undisturbed, still passed out atop their makeshift bed.
With shaking fingers she checked her throat and looked for her wolf. Must have been a dream.
“No, it was not.”
Jetta reared her head towards the engineering compartment. With his hackles raised, Kiyiyo stood over a body of a man who lay on his side, facing away from her. Even unconscious, such incredible power radiated from his being that she could feel the psionic oscillations bouncing off her skin.
That’s the thing that attacked me! she thought, recognizing the electric charge in the air. For some reason she expected it to be Victor, but this man was much too young, his skin too fair and natural.
Kiyiyo whined and moved to the side, revealing another person hidden in the shadows.
“Who are you?” Jetta couldn’t make out their figure, only the power, much like her own, that tore through the overlapping planes like a scream in an empty room.
“I am Ariya Ohakn. I am your mother.”
All the air left her lungs. Still injured and weak, Jetta tried to stand, but her limbs refused to hold her weight.
Kiyiyo bounded over and sniffed her, licking her wounds and offering his help, but Jetta shooed him off to one side.
“Step out where I can see you,” she demanded.
“I’m not in much better shape than you, I’m afraid,” the woman said, unmoving. “It took everything I had to stop him.”
Jetta lurched to her feet, gritting her teeth against the wall of pain that slammed into her with every step.
The woman gave a weak laugh. “You’ve always been a fighter, haven’t you?”
Jetta stepped into the engineering compartment, and her eyes adjusted to the light. Propped up against a control tower was a human woman in her late twenties, dressed in the ragged remains of a green and gray civilian jumpsuit. Her hair, braided to the middle of her back, stood out in a wild mess around her shoulders. Jetta couldn’t see any injuries, but by the protective way she guarded her stomach, she had been dealt a severe blow.
“Who are you?” Jetta repeated.
Lightning struck dangerously close to their craft, illuminating their compartment. Jetta immediately recognized the woman’s pale green eyes.
“I am your mother,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with pain. “I lost you, but I have finally found you.”
“Impossible. I don’t believe you,” Jetta said, fighting the queer feeling that built in her chest.
The woman closed her eyes and rested her head against the tower. “You do. I can sense it. You have always fought your feelings, but you can’t deny this.”
Rigid and shaking, Jetta refused to give in. “It’s not possible.”
The woman sighed. “I put a message in your friend’s head. The obnoxious dog-soldier with fire-dyed hair. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more direct, but he was following me,” she said, tilting her head toward the unconscious man.
Jetta looked closely at the man at her feet, trying to assimilate what she was seeing. The golden-brown hair. Familiar laugh-lines etched into a kind face. “No. This isn’t possible.”
“I know I have a lot to explain,” the woman said, trying to move, but she winced and acquiesced to her previous position.
Stumbling backward, Jetta looked for the exit. Have to run, get away, far away from—
(Kurt Stein.)
“No!” she screamed, reeling and falling to her knees.
It isn’t possible...
WHERE AM I?
Jetta opened her eyes to a different world, one that bustled with city life. People whizzed past her in hovercars and bicycles, unaware or unconcerned about her presence. The smell of processed meat and condiments hung in the air. A man with a funny hat and a stained apron touted his fare to fast-moving pedestrians in the daunting shadow of silver high-rises.
Home.
Ariya appeared beside her, no longer so disheveled, but tired and faded. (I don’t have much time, so you must listen.)
The scene dissolved into a smeared sepia glaze. As Ariya spoke, her memories blossomed across the background, buildings, objects, and people appearing and disappearing as her thoughts played out. (By the middle of the twenty-first century, another world war had broken out. During this time, the United People’s Republic conducted secret experiments to create more sophisticated weapons of mass destruction after the devastating effects of 2045’s nuclear war on the world’s ecosystems.)
Jetta watched the fertile landscape shrivel into desiccated heaps as entire cities crumbled to ashes.
(With unrest building, the UPR pulled the most prominent researcher in the field of nanotechnology for their new biological warfare division.)
(Let me guess,) Jetta interrupted. (Josef Stein.)
(Yes,) Ariya said as the memory shifted to a white-walled laboratory. (He was in the midst of developing nanites that could revitalize and regenerate tissue for war victims. The UPR commissioned him to modify his work for combat purposes.)
Josef Stein, hunched in a lab coat over a grayish, severed leg, carefully applied a droplet of red serum to the base of the stump. The faceless onlookers murmured with excitement as the leg began to twitch.
(He brought the dead back to life?)
(Not exactl
y. The military wanted him to create a “programmable, indestructible soldier.”)
Rows of stiff-backed soldiers stood at attention as they received injections of red serum in one arm and a tattooed barcode on the other.
(Such a thing wasn’t possible, but Josef came close. He made nanites that could repair injured soldiers in the field. The military wanted more, though; they wanted to keep their grunts focused on their mission. No fear, no pain, no sense of consequence—no psychological liabilities. Worst of all, they wanted to make sure that if a soldier was fatally wounded in combat, the nanites’ programming would keep them “alive” until the objective was completed.)
(But they’re not alive,) Jetta said, observing a mortally wounded soldier charge through fire to reach a rival battalion.
(No, they weren’t. They were soulless, morally absent creatures. Josef was mortified. He originally created the nanites to help war victims, not create them.) Ariya’s lips pinched at the corners as they watched Josef pore over schematics and argue with military heads.
(I knew Josef for years,) Ariya continued. (He was a good man. He had always believed in the kindness and potential of the human spirit, but by the end of the war, he was growing bitter and resentful toward his employers and disillusioned about the human race surviving itself.)
(How did you know him?)
(Your father, Kovan, and I were part of a secret environmental group called “Cause For Earth.” Josef and his son, Kurt, were our biggest scientific contributors, and while the government was making Josef use his nanites for the war, we gave him the facilities and means to develop his Smart Cells for a better use.)
(Like what?) Jetta asked as the background changed again. She was now in the same underground lab where they had found the hidden vault. Red stasis cylinders lined the walls, and animated monitors projected graphs and numerical codes for white-coated technicians.
(A project we called “The Ark.” Kurt helped us catalog and store all the genetic information of life on this planet, and Josef designed a whole host of nanites that could do everything from reconstruct living organisms to modify the toxins in the environment. We hoped that once things settled, we’d use the Smart Cells to restore Earth’s ecosystems. But the Doomsdayers had other plans.)
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