by AJ Super
“When her majesty, Senator Nue, graced us, and blessed us with her charity? No. Not really. It wasn’t that different. There may have been fewer rules, less ‘queen’s justice.’ No curfew, fewer bars on windows, fewer tussles in the streets… but Downside has always been like this.” Malcam pulled on the black gauge plug in his ear, agitated. “Under the shiny exterior of Elysion’s rich-man’s playground in Upside, we have always been here.”
A child ran up to Malcam. The little boy wore dirty clothes with holes and shoes that were clearly too small.
Malcam put a hand on the boy’s sandy blond head and pulled a coin from the pocket of his long grey coat. The child held out his hands. Malcam tossed the coin in the air for the child. He frowned as the child caught it, giggled, and ran away. “He probably had fleas. Or lice.” He wiped his hand down his jacket side, making a face. “Better go before he brings friends.” Malcam spun and walked down the dirty concrete paved road, coat flaring out behind him.
Red pushed the gun barrel into Nyx’s back, prodding her along. Nyx stumbled forward.
The coifed woman on the screen looked at Nyx. The image jumped. “We’re—coming—to get you,” the histrionic news-announcer stuttered.
Nyx glanced over her shoulder at the screen. It fuzzed with white noise and the woman on the display stared straight ahead. “The Queen’s Guard will begin nightly patrols at dusk.”
Nyx wasn’t sure what she had just seen. Erebus? Erebus couldn’t be on the Medusa or Elysion. She was gone. Nyx was imagining things.
Red shoved Nyx forward. She stumble-stepped, hands still manacled in front of her after her attempt to escape.
She flexed her fingers and willed the white energy to curl around her hands. Malcam’s blue waves burned in fits and starts in front of her. Her ability was getting stronger, more reliable.
Nyx looked back and forth as they walked down empty avenues, searching for a way to break free from Malcam’s deadly entourage. They passed a blind alley, a stack of crates, a barrel of trash. Matthews walked blindly next to her, in a daze. If she could twine her energy with Malcam’s, she could distract everyone with his distress and take Matthews down one of the alleys off the main fairway.
Malcam turned down a darkened street, quiet in the final rays of the sunset. He knocked on a door painted half red, half blue with the letters “IT” in white. He glanced up at the left corner of the door. A tiny black camera glinted in the fading light.
The door cracked open. Malcam pushed it and stomped in.
“I told you, I don’t do business with pirates anymore. Why are you here?” a voice grumbled from behind a stack of shuttle computer displays.
The small room was crowded with electronics, from displays to consoles to holo-projectors, and every extra component each might need. Nyx spun around, staring at the wiring and piles of parts. She could use some of this on the Thanatos to make things run a little smoother.
An ache gripped her. There was no more Thanatos to fiddle with.
“I see you’re as organized as ever, Joshua,” Malcam mumbled. “Don’t you ever clean this junk shop?”
A man with long auburn hair crawled out from underneath a console with three data ports and displays. He pulled his hair back into a tail and kicked the console. It sputtered to life. “I’m legit. I don’t do business with pirates.” He turned to the towering, gnarled figure of Malcam and scrunched his face. “What happened to you, anyway?”
Malcam grabbed Nyx by the shoulder and pushed her forward. “I want you to meet Nue Marcus’ daughter. The princess herself. Does that change things?”
Joshua’s dirt-brown eyes turned to stone. “Quite possibly. Who’s the other guy?” He squinted in the dim light at Matthews, who stood behind Nyx and Malcam.
Malcam tipped his head. “You know him, too. Captain Matthews of the Thanatos. Knows something I need. But has time dilation sickness.”
Joshua twisted a loose piece of hair framing his face and glowered.
Malcam shifted. “You still have it, right? It still works?”
“I still have it. It still works. Two interfaces, in fact. Strip ‘em both at the same time. Be done by morning, and then you can be on your way.” Joshua wiped his hands on his blue pants.
Malcam pulled Joshua aside and spoke to him in whispers.
Joshua’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “Do you really want to do that? I mean, I can, and the pain… wouldn’t you rather…? But yeah. She’ll remember.”
“I made promises,” Malcam grumbled quietly.
Joshua nodded. “It’s good you brought a second… catalyst… Come on. It’s in back.” He shifted his weight to turn. “Seriously, man. What happened? You look trés terrible.”
Malcam’s face went slack. He ground his jaw. “Xaoc and Nue Marcus had demon-spawn who cursed me.”
Joshua shrugged and walked towards a dark metal door with no handle and no locks. He held up a wrist and waved it over the door.
Malcam grabbed Nyx and pulled her in front of him. “Why no biolocks or print pads?”
“Not legal down here anymore. Queen’s Guard have to have access to everything. So magnetic locks only.”
“But you’ve keyed the electrical trigger of the magnetics to your DNA?” Nyx blurted, intrigued.
Joshua glanced over his shoulder.
“I mean. Why else put it under your skin?” Nyx stammered.
Joshua straightened and pulled his ponytail out, smoothed his hair, pulled it back tighter, and tied it in a tail again. “You’re right. I always know when someone opens a door in my workshop. I can’t key it so it only opens for me, but I can keep an eye on who’s keeping an eye on me.”
Malcam shifted. “And who’s watching you?”
“Just a low-level Guardsman. I’m certain he knows I have the mind-strippers. Came home to them uncovered and tampered with one day. But he hasn’t turned me in. Think he’s waiting to see who visits.” His eyebrows lifted. “Still want to stay and do this?”
Malcam pushed Nyx through the door. She lurched forward.
“If it can undo what’s been done…,” Malcam growled.
Joshua followed Nyx into the back room. “Lights, on.” The lights flickered, casting a pale blue hue in the dark, rust-dripped room. Joshua grabbed the corner of a grey canvas cover and threw it back with a puff of dust. “Sit them down. We’ll get this rodeo started. I’ll even do this one pro-bono, seeing as this is Senator Nue’s kid and all.”
Malcam grinned. “And the second?”
“What’s another friend of the senator’s on the pile?” Joshua’s lips pulled tight in disgust. “Get them on before I change my mind.
Joshua flicked switches at a console in the dank room, then tilted a rusted chrome table with a cracked black pad. A metal head restraint with holes in the temples and forehead flopped open. Wrist, waist, and ankle restraints clacked as Joshua swung the table to a standing position. The second chrome bed faced the opposite wall. He walked around to the second table and clicked a lock off, tilting it upright. Wires, conduit, and two mesh helmets sparkling with lights hovered above the tables. The smell of ozone and wet concrete permeated the air, a combination of acrid metal and moldy must. The hum of the old equipment lighting up rattled Nyx’s teeth.
Malcam grabbed Nyx’s shoulder and pushed. Nyx leaned against him. She wasn’t getting on one of those tables.
Malcam pulled his pistol and leveled it at the base of her skull. “Move, princess.”
“Shoot me first. You see how that worked out last time.” She pulled at the hole in the fabric of her black uniform.
He cocked the gun. “I’m going to guess that a hole in your head would be the end of that.”
Nyx paled. It probably would. She doubted her nano-medics could fix something quite so complex as brain tissue. And she didn’t want to test that. Her shoulders tensed. Malcam was glowing such a bright shade of blue now. If only she could get the white fire in her to cooperate. “Fine,” she muttered.
Matthews giggled behind her. “You’ll be sorry, but it’ll be too late.”
Red smacked him in the head with the butt of her rifle. “Shut your mouth.”
Nyx stepped to the table and glanced over her shoulder. Matthews held his bloody mouth.
Malcam waggled the pistol barrel at her. “Now turn and get on that thing.”
She backed onto the slightly tipped table.
Joshua clamped down the restraints at her ankles. “You wanna, uh, take the shackles off so I can get the rest locked down?”
Malcam holstered his weapon and pulled a magnetic key from his brown pant’s pocket.
It was her chance. She could break free when he took the shackles off. Tear the restraints from her body. The only gun out was Red’s, trained on the woozy Matthews. She could do this.
Malcam grabbed her left elbow and pinned it to the table, pushing her hands closer to the wrist restraint at her left. He passed the key over the magnetic cuffs, and they popped open.
With her free right hand, Nyx grabbed the cuffs as they fell to the ground and swung. The shackles connected with Malcam’s age-thinned face. He stumbled sideways and let go of her arm. She bent and pulled at the restraint around her ankle. It popped open with a hard click.
Joshua reached out, grabbing for her arms.
Nyx reeled, whacking him in the chin with the magnetic shackles. Her fingers scrabbled at the restraint at her other ankle, pulling hard. She would get out of here and save Matthews.
A faint tick-click at her temple made her pause.
She swiveled her head and stared down the barrel of Malcam’s gun. His swollen, purple temple bled. Nyx lifted the manacles to shove the gun away from her head, but Malcam’s fist was already plowing into her temple. She staggered, and the manacles fell from her hands with a clatter. Malcam’s knobby hand pressed against her sternum, pushing her upright into the table restraints as she fought for consciousness.
Joshua stood, hand to his chin. “Cette putain de salope.” He raised a hand and swung open the head restraint as Malcam settled Nyx back on the cracked pad. “If only I made a habit of hitting people.” Joshua slammed the head restraint shut with a bang and a hard click.
Nyx cringed, her head throbbing from the concussion of Malcam’s punch. A wave of pain relief flooded through her as her nano-medics fixed the damage. But she was already bound by her ankles, so all she could do was writhe and thrash her arms as Malcam pinned her to the bed with a single hand.
“But I don’t generally like conflict,” Joshua whispered to Nyx as he clapped the waist restraint down. “I bide my time until I can get even.” He raised his bushy brows. “Don’t have to wait long this time, do I, Miss Marcus? Had to wait a while to get back at your mother. A long while. You stepping through my door was a long time coming. But it’ll be worth knowing she’d be turning in her grave that I got the chance to hurt her child. After she killed mine.” Then he pinned each arm and clipped the wrist restraints in place.
Nyx’s eyes went wide. “My maman didn’t kill children.”
Malcam holstered his pistol and laughed. “Your mother is the reason Elysion’s an occupied planet. She killed a lot of people.”
“She fought against the queen.” Nyx tried to turn her head to Joshua. They were wrong. They had to be. Her father was the brutal one, not her maman.
“That came later. At first, the queen and the senator were good buddies,” Malcam sneered. “It wasn’t your father who thought he could strike a deal back then. Your childhood memories were all constructed with rumors and hearsay. It was your mother who set up the meeting with the queen. To allow the Medusa to operate as a hand of the Protectorate. And her bargaining chip was Elysion. You don’t even remember who really shot your mother, because your father had a cut-rate memory wipe done on you when you were so young. The rest was just people telling you what you needed to hear.”
“My father did not…” Nyx gaped at him.
“He did it for you. You were just a child. I was too, but…” He bit his lower lip. “Xaoc ordered what was left of the crew to never speak of Nue. Or the night she died. Or Elysion. I couldn’t even speak of my home!”
“If you hated my parents so much, why fly with them?” Nyx accused.
“Keep your enemies closer,” Malcam scoffed. “It was just a matter of time until I could have revenge on Senator Nue’s family.”
Nyx rattled her restraints. Revenge. This was all for revenge. Their years growing up together meant absolutely nothing to him. Not that she had deluded herself into believing that ruthless Malcam was ever close enough to be family. She let out a low roar. “I’ll kill you!”
Joshua kicked the table back, laying Nyx down and nodded to Red. “Put him on the other table.”
Red grabbed Matthews and dragged him to the upright table, throwing him against it. She clipped him in without a word. Joshua raised his eyebrows, a sneer at the corner of his mouth. Red kicked the table down as she walked to the door.
“Well, okay then. I’d like to say this isn’t going to hurt. But I’d be lying.” Joshua nodded as he pulled down one of the lighted mesh helmets. He fitted it to Nyx, drilling sharp pins into her temples and forehead through the holes in the head restraint to hold her head in place. Nyx barely felt the pain as the metal ground into the bone. When he drilled the pins into Matthews’ head, Matthews screamed.
Then Joshua pulled a hypodermic gun from a drawer next to the console and loaded it with a cloudy blue liquid.
Nyx squirmed. She couldn’t stop the mind-strip now. She stared at the hypodermic gun as Joshua approached, the long needle high in the air. He pressed it to her shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Fire shot through her skin and seeped into her veins. She gasped, stomach churning.
Malcam leaned over her as Joshua walked to Matthews to inject him with the same blue liquid. “You’re going to be in a lot of pain,” Malcam growled.
Malcam’s face narrowed to a wobbly pinprick. Nyx tried to turn her head, but the pins from the lighted helmet jerked her skull back in place. She twitched her eyes as far as they could see. Her vision narrowed, a black tunnel.
Somewhere in the distance, Matthews screamed again.
24
The oxide damp room faded, and Matthews’ screams silenced. All that encompassed Nyx was a bright light. The tight restraints released.
A door opened into a gallery of gold and scarlet. The crimson carpeted hall shone with sparkling, arched glass windows, gilt crystal, buttressed cathedral ceilings leaded with gold, and staircases with shining brass rails.
She gingerly stepped forward and stood on a balcony, looking down on a small crowd of bejeweled people in finery she couldn’t have afforded, even after hauling in a freighter from the queen’s supply division. There were men in black waistcoats, women in floor-length gowns and towering hairstyles, Queen’s Officers in full dress uniform, and footmen in red and gold lining the hall. A quartet of early Earth string instruments played softly in a corner, their rich, high vibrato ringing throughout the gallery.
Nyx stepped to the balcony rail and looked down on the people. The lavender of the sky shone through the glass ceilings. She was still on Elysion, but she didn’t know where. From the look of the palatial room, she had to be in wealthy Upside somewhere.
She frowned. She wasn’t dressed for a party. She looked down in disgust at her clothes and started.
A black satin dress flowed out from her hips like a waterfall. The top clung to her in a rounded vee, with tiny capped sleeves at her shoulders. She put her hand to her neck where a single strand of diamonds rested. Her shoes sparkled in the light.
She smoothed the front of the puffy dress. The memory of a red ball stirred in the back of her thoughts. Her maman fussing over the tight knot of hair at the top of her head. A new black party dress from her aunt. Her maman had taken great joy dressing her like a porcelain doll. And had gotten mad at her when she got the edge of the dress wet in the lagoon. She reached down. The
hem was still damp.
Nyx ran her hand over her pixie-length hair and sighed; at least in this dream world, she hadn’t really changed, just her clothes had. But there must have been some reason she was dressed this way. Some need to fit in with the fancy people below her. She hesitated, hand on the polished brass banister. The people on the gallery floor swept around like pirouetting ballerinas, tittering in tiny groups.
She gingerly walked down the right staircase, hand hovering over the rail so she didn’t trip on the damp hem of her dress in her extraordinarily fancy shoes.
It was as if she was invisible as she started her descent.
She stumbled at the bottom.
No one turned to help her, or even turned to look at her.
Nyx felt a cold hand run fingers up her spine. A memory crept across her skin, leaving gooseflesh behind. She was beginning to recognize what this was. What this night was. And she was experiencing it like it was the first time, every detail from the hovering gold chandeliers to the scent of the chocolate fountains and over-ripe strawberries. It all rang too true, as if the bits and pieces were being laid out again for her to see and do in repeated fashion.
She wanted to find a familiar face. Something comforting. Something she knew, recognized. Something that couldn’t change.
Not that this memory had changed. She dreaded the details. The way the women’s red lips spoke the Queen’s Speech, the way the men guffawed at each other’s jokes, the stillness of the footmen in red at the sides of the room.
She walked to a buffet table. She knew she would find one person there.
He was exactly where she remembered he would be.
He was lanky, not filled out. His dirty blond hair swept into his eyes. But his face was the same. His cerulean eyes were the same. His pale skin was the same.
“Malcam,” Nyx whispered.
The boy continued stuffing his face with confit duck and caviar on crackers. He didn’t hear Nyx. She put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, through her, for a moment and then shoved another cracker in his mouth.
But she’d never stood next to him on that night. She had only seen him next to this table from afar. He would never recognize or acknowledge her in this little vignette of memory.