by Rebecca Rode
Ember stalked through the door, throwing a reply over her shoulder. “It means I’m going to kill the emperor.”
Chapter 22
When Amai returned with a boat thirty minutes later, Ember wasn’t the only passenger to board. Her guards entered after her and settled themselves across the aisle. These weren’t the ones Ruben knocked out last night, but Ember appreciated their dedication all the same. It had to have been tempting to evacuate without their charge. She gave them a grateful nod, which they returned with tight smiles.
To Ember’s surprise, Amai stepped out of the boat and headed for Ember’s quarters, then emerged and moved on to the next door. Ember understood now—Amai was making sure the building was empty before sending it to its watery grave.
A moment later, Amai emerged from what had been Neraline’s quarters—nobody had occupied it since her death—and yanked open a panel near the entrance. Then she began punching in a code.
A warning buzzed from the panel. She sprinted to their boat and climbed in, breathless. They pulled away from the dock even before the hatch had fully closed, their driver obviously eager to evacuate.
“How long will it take?” Ember asked Amai, sending the building one last look. It had been her home for only two weeks, but it saddened her to see it go to such a fate.
“Eight minutes for your building to pressurize, but most pods only take four. We’ve gathered nearly all the residential pods by the landing pad. They should already be underwater by now.”
Ember was impressed at their evacuation speed. There were pods traveling their direction, moving far more slowly than their own boat, but the usual city of floating boxes had thinned considerably. Their occupants would board ships as their homes sank behind them to join hundreds of others in their permanent resting place under the sea. Without humans inside to initiate their final sequence, they would never rise to the surface again. By the time the Empire got here, there would be nothing but ocean.
Hopefully.
She could see the largest landing pad up ahead, a crowd gathering at the base of a freighter. Today the ship’s cargo would be human lives. One woman stood near the rail, not appearing to be in any hurry to board. She stared off into the distance, her expression dreamlike. Ember squinted, then felt her heartbeat pick up.
Bianca. She had more color today, and she wore the uniform of a cafeteria worker. At least they were putting her skills to use.
Please hold on, my friend. You must survive so I can see you again.
“There,” Amai said, pointing at a smaller landing pad and ship in the distance. “It was nearly retired from service, but we managed to get it in working condition last month. It’s too small to fit many evacuees yet large enough to catch the Empire’s attention.”
She’d expected to meet the Daughter here, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. “The Daughter doesn’t have orders for me, then?”
“She left early this morning on the first ship. She gave me authority over everything, so you have clearance to leave when you’re ready. If by some miracle this crazy mission pans out, head toward the far edge of sector fourteen, and we’ll find you.”
“Thank you,” Ember said.
Amai seemed to sense Ember was referring to more than the ship. She studied her, then turned back to the landing pad ahead. “It’s my job, Ember. I hate to say you’re our last hope, but it sure feels that way right now.”
“You don’t think everyone will get out in time.”
“They should, but we’re mobilizing every ship we own at the same time. Even sending them all to different rendezvous points, it’ll be easy for the Empire to swoop in and take a few of them out on the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if they catch us before we leave the sector.”
Dread sat heavy in Ember’s gut. She hadn’t realized it was so bad.
“I’m glad you decided to join us that day,” Amai said, reaching out for a handshake.
Ember returned it, remembering. She’d been trapped for days on the Empire ship, awaiting her flare training under Commander Kane’s jurisdiction. Amai had promised Union help with her father in exchange for Ember’s defection.
I don’t have to trust them, but I can still try to save them.
“I’m glad too,” Ember finally said. And she was. She’d tried so hard to push her friends away, to protect them. But in the end, none of that mattered. She’d only managed to isolate herself from those who could help her, those who could offer suggestions and encouragement. It had made her vulnerable to Ruben.
And Neraline . . . Ember swallowed, allowing herself to feel the pain of her own words once more. If she survived this mission, she would help her friends understand what they meant to her.
A few minutes later the driver started to slow, angling the boat so Ember could step easily onto the landing pad. Ember released her harness and stood, shoving the hatch open. “Thank you all,” she told her guards and the driver. “Please be cautious.”
“Oh! One more thing,” Amai said, grabbing Ember’s arm. “Before we left, I put out a call for volunteers from your team. It sounds like a few decided to join you. They should be waiting inside. I’m keeping Syd with me, though, despite her protests.” She gave a rueful smile.
Ember chuckled. “She has a lot of potential. I’m sure Syd will serve well wherever you end up.” She leaped onto the landing pad and strode up the gangplank, already sure of who her volunteers would be.
Reina and Brennan met her at the door. No surprise there. Bex sat next to the window, harness tightly secured, staring defiantly at Ember as if expecting her to drag him off. No surprise there either. But then she halted in her tracks. There in the pilot’s seat sat Harlow.
“I know you didn’t specifically ask me,” he said quickly. “You needed a pilot, and I thought that maybe . . .” He let his question die, looking anxious.
“This won’t bring her back, Harlow.”
“I know. But it’ll sure help.”
She smiled faintly, knowing she wouldn’t win this time. “You really think you can fly this thing?”
He looked excited now, his anxiousness gone. “She’s a little older than the models I’m used to, but I can fly her.”
She paused. Strangely, she trusted the man. It was ironic—she felt at peace entrusting her life to this pilot who’d once tried to kill her. If anyone on this ship understood her, it was Harlow. “I’m pleased to have you aboard.”
“Aye, Lady Flare. You won’t regret this.”
She turned to the others. “Friends, I won’t keep the truth from you. It will be extremely dangerous. I can almost guarantee we won’t make it back.”
Reina rolled her eyes. “Pep talks aren’t your strong suit, flare.” And yet there she stood, pack slung over her shoulder and a new collection of stunners at her belt. She seemed excited. Ember would never understand her.
“Amai told us what you wanted to do,” Brennan said. He didn’t have his weapons pack this time, although Ember noted several unfamiliar guns at his belt. “To be honest, I doubt the emperor’s even there, much less exposed. But at the very least, we can distract the Empire while you find him. It would be my honor to accompany you.”
Ember turned to the boy in the corner. “I can’t protect you, Bex. It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to come.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “You won’t have to protect me. This is my choice.”
She examined the boy, wondering how he’d come to be here. All she knew was that he was an orphan. She could see the loneliness in his gaze, the fierce independence that had been thrust upon him. Ember knew what it was like to be forced, restricted, held against her will. Her home and family had been taken from her. All she had left was the freedom to make her own decisions. She could allow him the same courtesy. “What planet did you say you were from?”
“Kollander 23-1. Why?”
Ember smiled, an idea forming. “I think I have a job for you. You can come as long as you follow orders like a good soldier.
Agreed?”
“Yes, ma’am, Lady Flare.” He executed a perfect salute, raising his fist to his heart.
Harlow was already preparing his instruments. A moment later, the ship gave a long shudder and a low vibration came from beneath them.
This was it. Five people—three flickers, a mourning pilot, and a defeated flare facing down the most powerful entity known to humankind.
She allowed herself one last look at the ocean beyond. The pod city was unrecognizable now, just a few dots bobbing about in the water. The dark outlines of small ships shot upward into the sky. Hopefully one of them carried Bianca to a new home, a new life. A new freedom.
“Ready, Lady Flare?” Harlow called from the pilot’s seat.
The hatch began to close, and there was a rush of air as the cabin pressurized. Ember found an empty seat and met her companions’ determined stares.
“Yes,” she finally said. “We’re ready.”
Chapter 23
Stefan couldn’t linger in his quarters any longer. That was the quickest way to madness. He’d spent weeks focused on the moment he would see Ember again, then messed it all up because he was unprepared.
He would never forget how she’d looked at him, the shock and confusion as she took in his uniform. The betrayal in her eyes as he told her to cooperate and turned his back on her. Her anger at his insistence she stay away from the Union. He felt like such a fool. No wonder she thought he’d betrayed her. He’d looked and acted the part well.
Only one thing kept him from slipping completely under, and that was hope. Ember had escaped. If he could find a way to send her a message, maybe she could finally see what she meant to him. Even if Stefan failed at everything else, he had to help her understand that much.
After a sleepless night, he went to the office early and threw himself into his work, frantically scouring the geological records for any clue as to the Union’s whereabouts. Ember’s visit and escape had created a buzz of activity on the ship, and he expected Harpen to wander in any second, label him worthless, and order his execution. Instead, he received a generic message on his wristband that the candidate contest was still running and to carry on. He knew what that meant. This was his last chance.
Stefan tried to focus, but Ember’s flare strain kept returning to his mind, gripping his thoughts constantly. He was missing something there. If he could only discover what.
He finally gave up and turned to the medical-records section of the network. He saw nothing he hadn’t read before. The files were all archived. He needed to speak with a physician, someone familiar with the breeding program and its origins. If he found a cooperative enough consultant, perhaps he could even get access to newer records. And if he got lucky, perhaps he could talk a medical professional into helping him reverse the progression of the virus.
Feeling a surge of life for the first time in days, Stefan emerged from the office and told the guards he had a headache. It was risky. He wasn’t sure why the emperor had allowed him to live after his failure to capture Ember, but he didn’t want to remind the man by parading down the corridors any more than he had to.
But this was important. He knew it at his core.
The guards accompanied him to the med deck. To Stefan’s relief, they positioned themselves near the doors and resumed their bored conversation. Stefan hoped for exactly that. He had twenty minutes before the guards would think to check on him.
He strode past the reception area, ignoring the murmurs of waiting patients at the sight of him, and turned down the main corridor. Then he stepped in front of a distracted assistant—by her abnormally large eyes, the girl was a Ha’alon—before she could hurry by. “I’ll have a word with you.”
She scowled at him before realizing who he was. Then she straightened, her eyes darting around the empty corridor. “I apologize, candidate. I didn’t know it was you.”
“I’ll need to speak with all of the physicians. Medics, too, when they’re available.”
Her eyes widened even more until they took up nearly half her face. “All of them? Is something wrong, sir?”
Everything was wrong, but he wasn’t about to explain. “I’m looking for information regarding the flicker breeding program or records regarding flares. Specifically on a patient named Ember . . . George, I think?” He couldn’t remember how to pronounce her family name.
The flash of recognition in the girl’s eyes quickly disappeared as the girl lowered her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know the name, sir. I apologize for not being more helpful.”
“Are you sure? It’s very important.”
“I’m certain.” A lie. Her eyes darted about, and her knuckles were white as they gripped the tablet in her hands. She glanced at a door at the end of the hallway, then jerked her eyes away.
He examined the door. It looked like all the others except for the keypad, and there were two security cameras in the ceiling, both aimed at the door. Why would the med deck need such security? Psychological patients went to deck two, and none of the physicians’ offices were situated down this particular hallway.
If the assistant didn’t want him in there, that was exactly where he needed to be. “Tell the physicians to meet me in there.” He motioned to the door.
She followed his hand. “Oh, n-no, sir. Not in there. I’ll find you a suitable—”
“That room. Do you know the entrance code?”
She shook her head rapidly now, looking cornered. He raised an eyebrow and fixed his most intimidating stare on her, watching her wilt right before his eyes. Finally she sighed and nodded. “Yes, sir. The code changes every day, but I know it.”
“Good. You will admit me and then fetch the other assistants. We’ll need privacy for our meeting, you understand.”
The girl glanced around as if looking for help, but the corridor was empty. Word of his presence must have gotten out, the workers suddenly too busy to be bothered with a candidate’s strange questions. She finally sighed and strode to the door, glaring at the keypad. A moment later, the door clicked open to reveal a dark room. She turned and sprinted away.
The lights came on as he entered. It was a typical surgical procedure room, although a sheet of dark glass lined one end. An observation booth. For educational purposes, perhaps? But why so heavily secured?
He had turned to leave when he saw the collar on the bed.
Stefan stepped closer, heart gripping his throat. There was no question—it was definitely the collar Ember had worn that terrible day. Kane had fashioned it to make her into some kind of pet. Stefan would know it anywhere. It looked slightly less worn than the singed version he’d torn from her neck the day of the battle. A replacement, perhaps.
He slowly looked around. Thick bands meant for binding an unruly patient were attached to the edges of the bed. And the door—it hadn’t been visible from the outside, but the inside was lined with a special metal. A huge screen hung on the far wall.
It reminded him of Kane’s reading machine. Stefan hadn’t actually gotten to use it. Ember had broken it before his turn, but he’d caught a glimpse of the screen as they carried it off. It had cracked right down the center. A month was plenty of time to duplicate it, possibly even improve it against a person of Ember’s strength.
Or perhaps Ember herself.
His breath came in quick gasps. He took a step backward, then another, as understanding gripped him.
“It looks far harsher than it is,” Harpen said behind him.
The Ha’alon girl had turned him in. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. “You know she would have fought you every step of the way.”
“Oh, we know.” She grinned. “And there’s no ‘would have.’ Events are unfolding that will enable us to capture her again very soon despite your attempt to the contrary.”
“She’d take out the entire Empire before she let you control her again.”
“Not if she’s unconscious. Our head physician insists that keeping her under for an extended period of time i
s not only safe but the wisest course for the safety of those involved. She’ll be quite comfortable.”
The bed. The binding. They intended to place her in a coma while the collar enabled them to use her powers.
It was sick and brilliant. Precisely the type of plan Commander Kane would have come up with had he lived longer.
“Was this the emperor’s idea?”
“Of course not. Now come with me. You’re to report to the prison deck immediately until the emperor decides what to do with you. Besides, the assistants and physicians are quite unable to work with a candidate around, and we must keep up appearances, after all.” She smirked, then gestured to the door. “You first.”
Stefan swore under his breath as he stepped out. His time was up, and he hadn’t found any solutions. Even if he did know where she was, he’d never get a message to her from a prison cell.
Harpen secured the door behind them. Why hadn’t he thought to grab the collar? They couldn’t use her without it.
They have others, he realized. They would have duplicated them, kept one on each ship in case she showed up unexpectedly or they were able to capture her during battle. There were likely rooms like this all over the galaxy, waiting for her to be found.
The tall guard, Talon, had joined Stefan’s usual guards at the entrance. They looked sheepish, as if they’d been chastised by Harpen on the way in. Two mechs fell in step behind Stefan, closing him into the middle of the group as they headed for the lift.
Stefan moved as slowly as he dared. But inside, his mind raced. The moment he stepped into his cell, it would be over. Ember would never know what she’d meant to him. She would never know how hard he had tried.
She’d never know how badly he’d failed.
I’m sorry, Ember.
The lift moved too quickly, and soon the doors slid open to reveal the familiar prison deck with its gray, colorless walls and dim lighting. Talon had just shoved Stefan forward when his wristband vibrated.