by Erica Rue
“Are those their scientific names?”
“Funny. They were right when they said this place was nightmare island. I never should have come with you.” She barely recognized her own voice, it was so harsh.
Dione watched him skim through the creatures Jameson had put here. Brian was just looking at the pictures, not reading into the very real threat each one posed. “These guys look kind of cute,” he said, flashing her the image of the bioluminescent birds.
“They do, until they peck your eyeballs straight out of your skull. Then they don’t look like anything because you don’t have any freaking eyes.”
“So you think it’s impossible to survive here even for a few days?” Brian’s voice was soft.
She knew he wasn’t asking about whether they’d make it. He wanted to know if his father could still be alive after all this time.
“Impossible? No,” she replied. His shoulders relaxed. She could have stopped there, but something inside her, something still angry, added, “But it’s not very likely. Without a way out of here, we won’t last long. No one could.” She got up off the floor of the shuttle, but didn’t look at him. She was getting hot, and she could see the leaves of the tree line trembling in a light breeze. The air inside the shuttle was stagnant.
“So we’re supposed to wait here until someone finds the time to rescue us?” Brian asked, all softness gone from his voice.
“They need a Flyer. Maybe you should call Victoria and apologize. She might send someone to get us just so she could punish you herself.”
“Excellent plan, but she’d never waste the resources when this place will do the job for her. If there’s one thing Ficarans are good at, it’s making the most of what we’re given.”
Dione didn’t reply. She took a step outside the shuttle, trying to catch a hint of the breeze, but the sun was too strong.
“Face it, Dione,” he said, “we’re stuck here. My people aren’t coming, and neither are yours.”
“Lithia’s going to ask the Aratians—”
“They’ll say no.”
“Professor Oberon will—”
“He doesn’t have any options, not with his ship damaged.” Brian raised his voice. “No one is coming.”
“So what’s your plan then? Build a boat, start rowing, and hope for the best? The trees here are as likely to kill us as we are to kill them.” They might be able to avoid dragons, but when the entire environment was rigged against them? Dione wished she had read a few more entries before writing off Bel’s warnings.
“What if that giant ship still flies?” Brian said.
Dione looked him in the eyes, just to be sure he was serious. He was. “You mean the colonizer?”
“Yep.”
“The one guarded by dragons?”
“I bet the fabricator’s on board, too,” Brian said. “The stories say he would fly back to the Vale Temple with fresh supplies. I asked Sam if there was anything like the fabricator at the Mountain Base. She said no, so the fabricator must be on the colonizer. Two problems, one ship. Solved.”
Dione sighed. She wished she had never told Brian that fabricators, machines that used raw materials to create nearly anything they had a template for, were real. Now he was set on finding a fabricator to produce more Artifacts and improve trade between the Ficarans and Aratians.
“Even if it does fly and has the fabricator on board, that still leaves one huge problem. The dragons.”
“If this place is as bad as you say, there must be something out there that eats dragons.”
“If there is, I hope we don’t find it. Our best bet is to stay here and wait for Lithia and the others to come up with something.”
Brian’s gaze darkened as he approached her. He towered over her, his brown eyes intense. “You didn’t strike me as the damsel-in-distress type, sitting around waiting for rescue. I guess I was wrong.”
Dione didn’t back away. “Well, I did think you were the rush-in, guns-blazing type of idiot, but I’m used to being right. So, if that’s really what you want to do, don’t let me stop you.” She pointed to the woods.
Without another word, he grabbed a bag, filled it with supplies the Aratians had intended to send to the Ficarans, and left, stomping off into jungle.
Dione definitely didn’t care. She never should have come here with him. If only she had listened to the professor! She always did as she was told back at StellAcademy, and now, the one time she decided to go off on her own, she’d made a complete mess out of things. All because she felt some sense of obligation to a guy she barely knew. A guy who clearly didn’t live by the same rules she did, and who was incredibly stupid, on top of that. He knew what was out there, and yet off he went, blazing into a nightmare jungle.
After fifteen minutes, her anger faded gradually into worry, like a sunset turning from flaming orange to cool lavender. Worry came naturally to her. Where was he going? Did he really want to find the colonizer, or was he just hoping to find evidence of his dad? Should she follow him? Stupid as it was to enter the jungle, it was still a good idea to stick together. She should give him a few more minutes. He might come back.
Dione fanned herself as she cooked in the heat. She stared at the tree line, debating sitting under one of the trees at the edge of the jungle. The breeze would be better able to reach her there.
A scream pierced her thoughts. Her body reacted with a rush of adrenaline before her mind could process it. Predator? No. Bird? No. It was Brian. She was sure of it, even though it was distant. She stood up and grabbed the stun rifle, heart pounding in her ears. She called his communicator, but there was no answer.
In the shade of the first row of trees, she hesitated for just a moment. She didn’t know what she might run into. It wasn’t just the birds and bugs and… dragons. She knew enough about plants to know that trees, not angler worms, but actual trees, could kill, as well.
She only knew a few of the threats in the world she was about to walk into, but she didn’t have a choice. She stocked up on supplies. She still had her utility knife in her bag along with a standard water bottle. She kicked herself for not replacing the fancy, self-purifying bottle she had given to Victoria. She added in a few jars from the crates of Aratian supplies, hoping that their contents would taste better than they looked. Finally she strapped the machete to her body and put the rifle strap over her shoulder. She felt heavy, but with some luck, she and Brian would be back at the shuttle before dark.
She inhaled deeply, tasting the salty air, then began reciting to herself: “Three point one four one five nine…”
6. CORA
Cora was tired. She was tired of listening to her Uncle Benjamin argue with Victoria via communicator about the missing guns. She was tired of watching her aunt coordinate the funeral feast. She was tired of enduring her cousin Evy’s uncharacteristic attention.
“I’m not hungry,” she said for the fifth time.
“Are you sure? I can get you some food.” The ten-year-old made the offer every fifteen minutes.
“No, thanks.” Cora sat in her room inside the Vale Temple. Temple. The word she had used all of her life to describe this building suddenly seemed wrong. This wasn’t a temple. Her grandfather, the Farmer—no, call him Jameson—hadn’t been a god. This building and all the others, Field and Forest Temple included, were nothing more than abandoned research bases, not actual temples.
She stared out the window of her lofty room, exhausted from her recent cleanup shift, yet unable to tear her eyes away. The town seemed smaller. The funeral pyres seemed brighter in the cool afternoon light. They called to her, drawing her in like she was one of Evy’s bugs. “I’m going to tend the pyres,” she said.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, go help your mom,” Cora replied. Amelia should get to take advantage of Evy while she was stuck in help mode. It was such a rare occurrence.
Cora stepped outside the Temple into the evening air. The town was unrecognizable to her eyes. Debris li
ttered the ground in places, and the market in the distance was in shambles. Everything looked wrong. She just wanted to be alone for a while.
Alone. The word struck her. Without her father, without Will, she was alone. Will had died in the battle against the Vens, saving her. Her father Michael, the Regnator and leader of the Aratians, had been betrayed. A Green Cloak had murdered him. The Green Cloaks had betrayed all Aratians when they let the Vens inside the walls. Benjamin and Amelia couldn’t replace her father. And Will? He had been her best friend. He had been her future. Without them she was lost.
Cora bowed her head when she reached the pyres. A fresh bundle of sweet-burning wood had just been added to the central fire. The fruity smoke pluming into the air was a strong contrast to the smell of burning bodies. There had been too many bodies to cremate in the traditional way, so they were being cremated in a cold, efficient machine in the lower levels of the Temple. The pyres would stay lit, however, until every dead Aratian was turned to ash.
In front of the pyre was a boy with tear-stained cheeks. His mother stood behind him, hands on his shoulders.
It was a cold reminder that grief did not belong to her. Grief was the collective burden of her people. She was alone, yet surrounded by others who felt just as alone as she did. She longed to reach out, to offer some comfort to this family. Or perhaps to take comfort. She wasn’t sure.
Cora closed her eyes and took several calming breaths. When she opened them again, she caught sight of Lithia, standing back at a respectful distance.
What is she doing here? It didn’t matter. Cora was glad to see her newfound cousin, even if she wasn’t sure why. She approached her with purpose.
“Tell me the truth about Kepos,” she said. She felt the tears sting her weary eyes. “Please.”
Lithia furrowed her brows and hesitated before pulling Cora into an embrace.
“I’m not good at this emotional stuff,” Lithia began, “but I’m so sorry for what you’re going through.”
She barely heard Lithia’s condolences. “Tell me everything. I need to understand,” Cora pleaded. She had asked Lithia before, but there had been no time to get answers. Before, it had been about the Matching. Now, she just needed to hear the truth. She needed to understand what had happened here, and she wasn’t the only one. So many people had questions. She saw it on their faces and heard it in their whispers: “Is it true? The demons are aliens? The Farmer isn’t a god?” We all deserve the truth.
Lithia took a seat in the last row of mourning benches that had been assembled in front of the pyres. “Where should I start?”
“Who are we?” Cora asked. The question had been bothering her since the moment she began to believe Lithia—after the Matching, when she had been paired with Jai, rather than Will, where she had seen other girls unwillingly paired with their Matches. From that moment, she had been plagued by doubts about the Farmer and his legacy. Lithia had planted those seeds of doubt when she revealed that the Farmer had been a man, not a god, but it wasn’t until Cora watched Will die that she had truly believed it.
“What do you mean?” Lithia asked.
“If we’re not the Farmer’s chosen, then who are we? Is there anything special about us?”
“Jameson recruited people who wanted a new life, packed them on a ship, and brought them here,” Lithia said. “It doesn’t mean you’re not special—”
“Yes, it does. What about my—our grandmother? Why did he choose her?” Cora wasn’t sure why this was so pressing in her mind, but it was. She had spent so long believing, knowing, that she was special, only to find out she was just like everyone else.
“I’m not sure. I never knew her. She left when my dad was just a baby. She abandoned them. All I can tell you is that there must have been something about her because my grandfather never stopped loving her despite what she did.”
Lithia took a breath and looked up at the pyre. Cora watched as a row of benches in the front filled with a new family, and the pyre attendants offered up another few pieces of wood.
“What about the Vens?” Cora asked, still watching the flames dance around the fresh logs. “Why did they come here? What did they want?” Maybe the answer would help her understand the Green Cloaks.
“We were being honest when we told you. The Vens wanted to kill everyone,” Lithia said.
“But why?”
“We don’t know. We think it’s a cultural thing. It doesn’t seem to be about resources, and they don’t take over colonies they defeat. They even attack space ships. It’s about battle for them. We just found those recording devices in their heads, like they’re training. They spare no one.”
“Then why,” Cora began, her voice catching in her throat, “why did the Green Cloaks help them?” She blinked hard a few times.
“Maybe they didn’t understand what the Vens were really like,” Lithia replied.
Cora frowned. “Lithia, can I tell you something? I think you’re the only one who would understand. Aside from Will…”
“Sure,” Lithia said softly.
“I can’t tell my uncle, or anyone else, but… I don’t want to rule. I don’t want to become the Regnator. It’s all fake. My grandfather wasn’t a god. He was a liar.”
Her cousin smiled. “Then don’t. Is there any reason you have to? Let Benjamin do it.”
“There’s more,” Cora said. “I want to stop the Matching. When I was on that stage, I saw up close how people really felt. They do it because it’s their responsibility. But if it’s true what you say, that there are lots of other worlds…”
“Hundreds. Full of people.”
“Then there’s no need,” Cora said. “We’ll invite them here. Otherwise, I’m afraid we’ll go back to the days of triple Matches.”
“What’s a triple Match?” Lithia asked uneasily.
“In the past, a woman could be matched with three men over the course of her life,” Cora explained. “The first remained her husband, but she was expected to bear children of the other two as well.”
Lithia frowned, and Cora mirrored her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Aside from that sounding awful, I’m not sure your plan will work. We have something called the Bubble,” she began. “It’s an area of space that the Vens don’t usually enter. Inside that Bubble, it’s safe. Not many people choose to live outside it.”
After a moment of confusion, Cora pieced together what Lithia was trying to say. “Kepos is outside this Bubble, isn’t it?” Lithia nodded. “Well, what if there were no Vens?”
Lithia gazed off into the distance, as if she were trying to imagine that scenario. “There are tens of thousands of them. I think if the Alliance could have found a way to eradicate them all, it would have by now.”
“Do you think people would try to come here, if it was safe?” Cora wasn’t sure if the thought excited her or scared her. She didn’t especially want outsiders, but she’d grown up hearing stories about the dangers of genetic drift and too-small gene pools.
“I have no idea.”
Cora sighed. “Either way, the Matching can’t go on. It’s no longer necessary.” She paused. That revelation would have meant so much more if things were different. If Will were alive. “But my uncle will never allow me to stop it,” she said. “It’s his life’s work.”
“Then you might have to become Regnator,” Lithia said.
“I know.” Cora had circled through these thoughts a dozen times, always ending in the same place. She’d hoped that Lithia would be able to offer her an alternative. “But I don’t have the right. In order to claim leadership, I’d have to use my birthright, but my support for eliminating the Matching comes from establishing the Farmer as a liar. If the Farmer is a liar, I have no birthright.”
Lithia bit her lower lip. “I see your dilemma, but I’m sure we can find a work around.”
Cora stood and smoothed the creases from her shirt. “There’s a funeral feast tonight, to honor the dead, if you’d like to join us.�
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“I’d be honored,” Lithia said, but her face fell.
“What is it?”
“I actually came to ask you a favor,” Lithia said.
Before she could finish her request, there was a commotion at the gate. The guards were shouting, and those nearby were hustling to safety.
“Vens?” Lithia asked.
“I don’t know.” The guards had not given the agreed upon signal for a Ven sighting, but Cora rushed to the gate all the same, with Lithia following close behind.
A few men on machi had come through the gate, and Cora caught sight of a man draped across the front of one of the beasts. The rider dismounted and called for a stretcher. The body draped across the machi moaned, and Cora gave it another glance.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“A Green Cloak,” the rider replied. “He keeps mumbling apologies and excuses.”
Her concern shifted immediately to anger. The Green Cloaks had opened up a secret entrance into their town, allowing the Vens to easily make their way inside and murder her people. They might have once been Aratians, but they’d become traitors once they showed their true colors. “Where did you find him?” she asked the rider.
“In the woods. He was attacked.”
“The Vens?”
“I don’t know, but his wounds are severe.”
“Can he speak?” Cora asked. She barely recognized her own voice it was so low.
“Yes, but—”
“Lay him on the ground.” Cora would be able to ask the questions that had haunted her for days. “While we wait for the stretcher.”
Lithia stepped up alongside her. “If he doesn’t survive, you won’t be able to get any answers,” she said, as if she had read Cora’s thoughts.
“That will be one death I won’t lose sleep over.” Cora pushed aside the tightness in her chest and knelt over the injured man. He moaned.
“Why did you join the Green Cloaks?” she asked.
“I was trying… to leave,” he panted. “They wouldn’t let me.”
“Why did you join?” Cora repeated.