Morning Star

by Pierce Brown

  Soldiers salute as they pass me in the hall, making their way to their troop carriers and leechCraft. The squads are predominantly Red and defected Grays, but I see Green battletechs, Red machinists, and Obsidian scouts and heavy infantry in each capsule as well. I resend the shuttle flight clearance order to the Morning Star’s flight controller with my authorization code. It’s accepted and cleared. Most days I’d trust the order to stand on its own, but today I want to be sure, so I make my way to the bridge to confirm in person. The Red marine captain responsible for the security of the bridge shouts his men to attention when I enter. More than fifty armored soldiers salute me. The Blues in their pits continue in their operations. Orion’s at the forward observation post where Roque once stood. Meaty hands clasped behind her back. Skin nearly as dark as her black uniform. She turns to me with those large pale eyes and that nasty white smile.

  “Reaper, the fleet is nearly ready.”

  I greet her warmly and join her in looking out through the glass viewports “How does it look?”

  “The Ash Lord is pulled up in defensive array. He seems to think we intend an Iron Rain before moving him off the moon. Sharp assumption. He has no reason to come to us. All the rest of the ships in Core will be headed here. When they get here we’ll be the cockroach pinned between the ground and the hammer. He’s assumed correctly we’ll rush the engagement.”

  “The Ash Lord knows war,” I say.

  “That he does.” She glances at her datapad. “What’s this I hear about a flight clearance for a sarpedon-class shuttle from HB Delta?”

  I knew she’d notice. And I don’t want to explain myself to her now. Not everyone is as compassionate toward Cassius as I, even with Sevro sparing his life.

  “I’m sending an emissary to meet with a group of Senators,” I lie.

  “We both know you’re not,” she says. “What’s going on?”

  I step closer so no one can overhear us. “If Cassius remains in the fleet while we go to war, someone will try to get past the guards and slit his throat. There’s too much hate for the Bellona for him to stay here.”

  “Then hide him in another cell. Don’t release him,” she says. “He’ll just go back to them. Rejoin the war.”

  “He won’t.”

  She looks behind me to ensure we’re not being overheard. “If the Obsidians find out…”

  “This is exactly why I didn’t tell anyone,” I say. “I’m releasing him. You clear that shuttle. You let it go. I need you to promise me.” Her lips make thin, hard line. “Promise me.” She nods and looks back to Luna. As always, I feel she knows more than she lets on.

  “I promise. But you be careful, boy. You still owe me a parrot, remember.”

  I meet Sevro in the hall outside the high security prisoner lockup. He’s sitting atop the orange cargo crate and its floating gravRig drinking from a flask, left hand rested on the scorcher in his leg holster. The hall’s quieter than it should be given its guests, but it’s in the main hangars and gun stations and engines and armories where my ship pulses with activity. Not here on the prison deck. “What took you?” Sevro asks. He’s in his black fatigues too, stretching uncomfortably against his new combat vest. His boots click together as his legs dangle.

  “Orion was asking questions on the bridge about the flight clearance.”

  “Shit. She figure out we were letting the eagle fly?”

  “She promised to let it go.”

  “She better. And she better keep her trap shut. If Sefi finds out…”

  “I know,” I say. “And so does Orion. She won’t tell her.”

  “If you say so.” Sevro wrinkles his face and downs the last of his flask as he glances down the hall. Mustang approaches.

  “Guards are redeployed,” she says. “Marine patrols are diverted from hall 13-c. Cassius is clear to the hangar.”

  “Good. You sure about this?” I ask, touching her hand. She nods.

  “Not entirely, but that’s life.”

  “Sevro? You still prime?”

  Sevro hops down from the crate. “Obviously. I’m here, ain’t I?”

  Sevro helps me maneuver the gravRig through the brig’s doors. The guard station is deserted. Food wrappers and tobacco dip cups all that remain of the Sons team who guarded the prisoners. Sevro follows me from the entrance down into the decagon room of duroglass cells, whistling the tune he made for Pliny.

  “If your leg’s a little wet…,” he sings as we stop before Cassius’s cell. Antonia’s cell is across from his. Her face swollen from her beating, she watches us hatefully without moving from her cell’s cot. Sevro knocks on the duroglass separating us from Cassius.

  “Wakey wakey, Sir Bellona.”

  Cassius wipes his eyes of sleep and sits up from his bed, taking in Sevro and I, but addressing Mustang. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve arrived at Luna,” I say.

  “Not Mars?” Cassius asks in surprise. Antonia shifts in her cot behind us, just as startled by the news as Cassius appears to be.

  “Not Mars.”

  “You’re actually attacking Luna?” Cassius murmurs. “You’re insane. You don’t have the ships. How do you even plan to get past the shields?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” Sevro says. “We got our ways. But soon hot metal’s gonna be sliding through this ship. And someone’s likely gonna come in here and pop you in the head. Darrow here gets all sad thinkin’ of that. And I don’t like sad Darrow.” Cassius just stares at us like we’re mad. “He still doesn’t get it.”

  “When you said you were done with this war, did you mean it?” I ask.

  “I don’t understand….”

  “It’s pretty bloodydamn simple, Cassius,” Mustang says. “Yes or no?”

  “Yes,” Cassius says from his cot. Antonia sits up to watch. “I am. How could I not be? It’s taken everything from me. All for people who only care about themselves.”

  “Well?” I ask Sevro.

  “Oh, please.” Sevro snorts. “You think that’s going to satisfy me?”

  “What game are you playing at?” Cassius asks.

  “Ain’t no game, boyo. Darrow wants me to let you out.” Cassius’s eyes widen. “But I needa know you aren’t gonna come try to kill us. You’re all about honor and blood debts, so I need you to swear an oath so I can sleep soundly.”

  “I killed your father….”

  “You really should stop reminding me of that.”

  “If you stay here, we can’t protect you,” I say. “I believe the worlds still need Cassius au Bellona. But there’s no place for you here. And there’s no place for you with the Sovereign. If you give me your oath, on your honor that you will leave this war behind you, I’ll give you your freedom.”

  Antonia bursts out laughing behind us. “This is hilarious. They’re toying with you, Cassi. Just plucking you like a harp.”

  “Be quiet, you poisonous little brat,” Mustang snaps.

  Cassius eyes Mustang, judging our proposal. “You agreed to this?”

  “It was my idea,” she says. “None of this is your fault, Cassius. I was cruel to you, and I’m sorry for that. I know you wanted revenge on Darrow. On me…”

  “Not on you, not ever on you.”

  Mustang flinches. “…but I know you’ve seen what revenge brings. I know you’ve seen what Octavia really is. What my brother really is. You’re only guilty of trying to protect your family. You don’t deserve to die here.”

  “You really want me to go?” he asks.

  “I want you to live,” she says. “And yes. I want you to go, and never come back.”

  “But…go where?” he asks.

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Cassius swallows, searching himself. Not just seeking to understand what he owes honor or duty, but trying to imagine a world without her. I know the horrible loneliness he feels now even as we give him freedom. Life without love is the worst prison of all. But he licks his lips and nods to Mustang, not
to me. “On my father, on Julian, I promise not to raise arms against any of you. If you let me go, I will leave. And I will never come back.”

  “You coward.” Antonia punches the glass of her cell. “You gorydamn sniveling little whipped worm…”

  I nudge Sevro. “Still your call.”

  He tugs the hairs of his little goatee. “Ah hell, you better be right about this, you pricklicks.” Digging into his pocket he pulls out the a magnetic key card and Cassius’s cell door unlocks with a heavy thunk.

  “Then there’s a shuttle waiting for you in the auxiliary hangar on this level,” Mustang says evenly. “It’s been cleared to fly. But you have to go now.”

  “That means now, shithead,” Sevro says.

  “They’ll pop you in the back of the head!” Antonia is saying. “You traitor.”

  Cassius puts a tentative hand on the cell door, as if he’s afraid he’ll push and find it locked and we’ll laugh at him and all the hope we’ve given him will be ripped away. But he has faith and, steeling his face, he pushes. The cell’s door swings outward. Cassius walks out to join us. He holds out his hands to be cuffed.

  “You’re free, man,” Sevro slurs, rapping the orange box heavily with his knuckles, “but you gotta get in the box so we can wheel you outta here without anyone seeing.”

  “Of course.” He pauses and turns back to me to extend a hand. I take it, a strange feeling of kinship rising in me. “Goodbye, Darrow.”

  “Good luck, Cassius.”

  And for Mustang he pauses, wanting to reach out and wrap his arms around her, but she merely sticks out a hand, cold even now to him. He looks at her hand and shakes his head, not accepting her gesture. “We’ll always have Luna,” he says.

  “Goodbye, Cassius.”

  “Goodbye.”

  He goes to the crate, which Sevro has opened and looks inside. Hesitating there, wanting to say something to Sevro, perhaps thank him one last time. “I don’t know if your father was right. But he was brave.” He extends a hand to Sevro as he did me. “I’m sorry that he’s not here.”

  Sevro blinks hard at the hand, wanting to hate it. This does not come easy for him. He’s never been a gentle soul. But he does his best and he takes the outstretched hand. They shake. But something feels wrong. Cassius won’t let go. His face is cold, eyes unforgiving. His body rotates. So fast I can’t stop him from jerking back on Sevro’s hand, pulling my friend’s smaller body forward toward him just as he swivels his hip, bringing Sevro to his right armpit like they’re dancing, so he can strip Sevro’s pistol from his leg holster. Sevro stumbles, fumbling for the weapon but it is already gone. Cassius shoves him off and stands behind him with the scorcher pressed to his spine. Sevro’s eyes are huge, staring at me in fear. “Darrow…”

  “Cassius no!” I shout.

  “This is my duty.”

  “Cassius…” Mustang takes a step forward. Outstretched hand trembling. “He saved your life…Please.”

  “On your knees,” Cassius says to us. “On your gorydamn knees.” I feel myself teetering on the edge of a precipice, the darkness spreading out before me. Whispering to have me back. I can’t reach for my razor. Cassius could easily shoot me down before I even pull it. Mustang goes to her knees and motions me to get down. Numbly, I follow her lead.

  “Kill him!” Antonia’s shouting. “Shoot the bastard!”

  “Cassius, listen to me…,” I beg.

  “I said on your knees,” Cassius repeats to Sevro.

  “My knees?” Sevro smiles wickedly. A mad gleam in his eye. “Stupid Gold. You forgot Howler rule number one. Never bow.” He snatches up his razor from his right wrist, tries to spin around. But he’s too slow. Cassius shoots him in the shoulder, jerking him sideways. The combat vest cracks. Blood sprays onto the metal wall. Sevro stumbles forward, eyes wild.

  “For Gold,” Cassius whispers and fires six more shots point-blank into Sevro’s chest.

  Blood erupts from Sevro’s chest. Spraying my face. He stumbles. Drops his razor. Collapses to his knees, gasping in shock. I rush to him under the muzzle of Cassius’s smoking weapon. Sevro’s grasping at his chest, confused. Blood dribbles from his mouth. Bubbling out through his vest, staining my hands. He coughs it onto me. He’s desperate to rise. To laugh it off. But nothing’s working. His arms tremble. His breath ragged. Eyes huge, fear wild and deep and primal in him as Antonia cackles in delight from her cell.

  “Don’t die,” I say frantically. “Don’t die. Sevro.” He shivers in my arms. “Sevro. Please. Please. Stay alive. Please. Sevro…” Without a final word, without a plea or a flicker of personality, he goes still, leaking red. Pulse fading away as tears stream down my face and Antonia howls in mockery.

  I cry out in horror.

  At the bleak evil I feel in the world.

  Rocking there on the floor with my best friend.

  Overwhelmed by this darkness and the hate and the helplessness.

  Cassius stares pitilessly down at me.

  “Reap what you sow,” he says.

  I rise with a horrible sob. He strikes me in the side of the head with the scorcher. I don’t go down. I take the blow and pull my razor. But he hits me twice more and I fall. He takes my razor from me, holding it to Mustang’s throat as she tries to rise. He points the gun at my forehead as I look up at him and is about to pull the trigger.

  “The Sovereign will want him alive!” Mustang says.

  “Yes.” Cassius replies quietly, overcoming his anger. “Yes you’re right. So she can peel him apart till you tell us your battle plans.”

  “Cassius, get me out of this damn cell,” Antonia hisses.

  Cassius moves Sevro’s body over with his foot and pulls out the passcard to open her door. When Antonia exits her cell, she does so like a queen. Prisoner slippers making little tracks in Sevro’s fresh blood. She knees Mustang in the face. Mustang goes down. My own vision wavers in and out. Nausea in my gut from a concussion. Warmth from Sevro’s blood leaking through my shirt along the belly. Antonia sighs above me. “Ugh. The Goblin’s still leaking everywhere.”

  “Guard them and get their datapads,” Cassius orders. “We need a map.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Getting manacles.” He tosses her the scorcher.

  As he disappears around the corner, Antonia crouches over me, considering. She pushes the gun against my lips. “Open.” She punches my testicles. “Open.” Eyes rolling in pain, I open my mouth. She shoves the scorcher barrel inside. The alien metal presses against the back of my throat. Teeth scrape along the black steel. I gag. Feel bile coming up. She stares me hatefully in the eyes, crouched over my head, the barrel down my throat as my body convulses, only pulling it out as I vomit on the ground. “Worm.”

  She spits on me and takes our datapads and razors, tossing Sevro’s to Cassius when he returns from the guard station. They fit me in a prisoner harness, a metallic muzzle-and-vest combination that interlocks the arms and pins them to my chest so that my fingers are touching the opposite shoulder, and dump me into the container we brought for him, forcing my knees to bend so I fit. I am unable to arrest my fall with my hands, and my head slams on the plastic at the bottom. Then they pile Sevro and Mustang in atop me like garbage and slam shut the crate. Sevro’s blood drips down my face. My own leaks from the gash on the side of my head. Too dazed to weep or move.

  “Darrow…” Mustang murmurs. “Are you all right?”

  I don’t answer her.

  “You find a map?” I hear Cassius ask Antonia through the crate.

  “And a jammer for cameras,” she says. “I’ll push. You range, if you can manage.”

  “I can manage. Let’s go.”

  The jammer pops and the gravRig moves, taking us along with them. If Sevro and Mustang were not atop me, I could crouch and put my back into the lid, but their weight pins me down in the small container. It’s hot. Smells like sweat. Hard to breathe. I’m helpless in here. Unable to stop them as they use the path I
cleared for Cassius. Unable to stop them as they push us across the deserted hangar, up the ramp into the ship and begin preflight checks. “Shuttle S-129, you are clear for departure, stand by for pulseShield deactivation,” the flight officer says over the com from the distant bridge as the engines prime. “You are go for launch.”

  Out from the belly of the war ship, my enemies smuggle me away from the comfort of my friends, the safety of my people, and the might of my army as it prepares for war. I hold my breath, expecting Orion’s voice to come over the com. To ground the ship. For ripWings to shoot her engines out. None do. Somewhere, my mother will be making tea, wondering where I am, if I am safe. I pray she cannot feel this pain across the void, this fear that consumes me despite all my vaunted strength and foolish bluster. I’m afraid, despite what I know. Not just for myself, but for Mustang.

  I hear Antonia and Cassius speaking beyond the crate. Cassius has broadcast an emergency signal from the craft. A few moments later, a cold voice crackles over the com.

  “Sarpedon shuttle, this is the LDC assault-runner Kronos; you have transmitted an Olympic distress signal. Please identify yourself.”

  “Kronos, this is the Morning Knight. Clearance code 7-8-7-Echo-Alpha-9-1-2-2-7. I have escaped from imprisonment aboard the enemy’s flagship and am requesting escort and docking clearance. Antonia au Severus-Julii is with me. We have valuable cargo. The enemy is in pursuit.”

  There’s a pause.

  “Register, code accepted. Hold on the com. The next voice you hear will be the Protean Knight’s.” A moment later Aja’s voice rumbles through the ship, filling me with dread. So she did survive the waste to find her way back home.

  “Cassius? You’re alive.”

  “For now.”

  “What is your cargo?”

  “The Reaper, Virginia, and the body of Ares,” Antonia says excitedly.