by Abby J. Reed
No one argued.
I led us to the main bay with Botty tucked under my arm. My bag of tools was already loaded and waiting for me. Luka grabbed his semi and auto-rifle from the garage, strapping them to his back and front before handing me my old blaster.
The charge was mostly gone. I snapped it into place in Circuit’s side. Easy to reach, yet left me with a hand open. Luka gave a respectful nod of approval.
Next to him, Malani’s wings spread and her fists clenched. Her jaw was set and grim. She looked like an angel ready for battle. “If we don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll ever get the courage to go.”
I set Botty down and slung my tool bag over my shoulder. “Stay here, Botty. I don’t want to risk you out there.”
His eyes flashed and he scuttled into the garage.
I squared my shoulders, taking a deep breath. I will not live in fear. Then opened the airlock and the ramp.
The scent was an uppercut to my senses. A wall of thick cinnamon smacked my face, forced its way into my cells. Bile coated the back of my throat. I bent over, hand on my knee, stumbling through the airlock just in time to vomit over the side. Over and over until I couldn’t smell anything save my own filth.
Malani ran her hand along my side, readjusting my bag. “You’ll get used to the smell again.”
I swiped off vomit with the back of my hand and shook my head. The worst part of this new Scarlatti wasn’t the onslaught of cinnamon, or even the ruined destruction before us, but the silence.
Silence that spoke of the worst.
Luka didn’t comment. He sniffed the air once, twice, as though scenting the direction of the fight. He placed his hands on his minis and leapt from the ramp onto the ground. He landed with his usual grace and a light squish, despite the arsenal. He squatted to touch the soil. “It's wet.” He pivoted back to us, dirt clumps falling from his fingers.
I spat, wincing at the taste. I came down the ramp and took my first steps on Scarlatti. The ground didn’t rumble as it should’ve when I made this too-important step. Nothing moved at all save my body adjusting to the hyperawareness of Circuit on soil.
“It was raining when we left, right?” I stooped and picked up a handful of the damp dirt myself. It looked like clumps of clotted blood. I shook it off, suddenly grossed out. “Maybe it kept raining. Maybe it was one of those hard storms.”
“Or a flash flood?” Malani pointed over her shoulder to where Houtiri would’ve peeked over the valley from over their part of the mountain range had it not been in ruins. “We could see the floods from the city.”
Luka wiped his hands on his pants, well away from his mini hilts. “Think anyone survived?” His quick glance to me was full of need. He was looking for hope.
No, I wanted to scream. No, we’re too late. We can’t save anybody. “There’s always a chance. They were prepared for war.”
Luka’s face knotted. “Not for war and a flash flood.”
Malani flitted down, hesitating before putting her full weight on the wet soil. A rolling shiver crawled along her body. “There’s so many ghosts in this place.” The way her wings were balled, I didn’t think she meant literal ghosts. Only the ghosts living in her memory.
I looked at my cap. It, too, had folded back as though hiding. Danger. Suddenly I didn’t want anything more to do with this planet. I wanted off. Let Scarlatti burn, let Scarlatti drown.
But what if there were survivors? What if Cal or Lewis or my parents still lived? We couldn’t leave, couldn’t abandon them to the Queen. Not until we knew for sure.
My cap shifted, rippling into a long dagger.
I will not live in fear.
I faced what remained of the compound. Everyone wasn’t dead. I refused for everyone to be dead. I would not allow it.
My gaze locked with Malani’s and Luka’s. “We need to go in.”
They looked back at me and, as a team, we marched toward the compound together.
Chapter 2
JUPE
ShuShu’s corpse had started to smell.
At least, I thought it did. The air recirc system had been working overtime with so many people in the Leech. Could be the scent of an oncoming burnout. The ship wasn’t designed to carry so many people for long periods of time.
Cómico how I couldn’t really tell the difference.
I sat on the ground, leaning against the cabinet with legs splayed wide, crossing the tiny aisle leading to the tiny living area in the back of the ship. Despite my empty thoughts, despite having no energy, the ache in my legs kept burning. I jiggled them uselessly on the ground.
Tahnya sat across from me, within arm’s reach. Closed cabinets sat above her head filled with collected knickknacks from my old life. The kelly-green tea kettle, the only remnant of my home on Miaoli, had slid from its spot and pressed against the cabinet frame. I knew if I could only hold it and smell the fading honeyed Bai-Hao scent, my legs would calm.
Even with the black blood still smeared on Tahnya’s T-shirt from the Extrat attack on Syktyv, she was the most beaut thing I’d ever seen. Her worried gaze kept glancing between me, Brody, and Leader. As if we were going to fall apart in front of her.
Or maybe she was just worried I was already falling apart.
Brody leaned with a stiff back and locked shoulders against the far window, the gun pointed at him only locking in his hard expression. Didn’t Leader realize that expression meant a slow-burn type of anger? Every time he switched from staring at his missing fingers to glaring death threats at her, his anger only got worse.
And Leader? She must've been part cyborg because her arm hadn't dipped, hadn’t twitched, hadn’t moved from its steel-hard position. She perched at the interface, my interface, separating us from Brody, her copper hair swept off her shoulders. She clicked every now and then to keep us on course as we continued racking up flanks, trusting Tahnya’s care of Brody and my obvious care for Tahnya would keep both of us from doing anything estupido.
My thoughts ran in circles, replaying the scene from Syktyv over and over again. Tahnya, surrounded by dead Extrats and black blood. The Extrat turning with ShuShu’s face. My uncle’s smooth, faceless body.
My insides cramped. Oh, Angel. I’d never be able to escape this nightmare.
A hand ran loops along my spine. I knew by the gentle touch Tahnya was trying to comfort me. Besides, it’s not as though Leader would be doing any soothing considering she helped orchestrate my uncle’s death.
Tahnya cleared her throat. “Jupe, where’s the food?”
At the word food I realized my stomach was about ready to eat my other organs.
“No.” Leader’s harsh voice cut in. “No moving.”
Tahnya’s hand paused on my back. Her palm on my body was the warmest thing about me. “Leader, you are in complete control in this situation. But we’ve been flying for a very long time. We need to eat.”
“No.”
“Then can I at least clean and take care of Brody’s hand?”
Brody’s head rotated like a rapbat’s. His eyes lit up and you could read all the ways he planned to twist the situation.
Ese, don’t you know not to look too eager?
Leader saw the potential danger, too. She glanced down quickly at my pulsars she had confiscated as soon as we boarded. They were right where she left them: Far out of my reach. “No. But you can get food.”
“It’s in the back,” my voice rasped. “Locked-in cabinet.”
Tahnya tapped my back and got up. She’d have to pass by ShuShu’s body to get there.
I curled over tighter. I should be helping. I should be offering to go. But all I could do was sit here on the floor.
Tahnya brought out a stack of gov-bars. She set one on my lap. Its silver wrapping seemed to suck in the
light. “Eat, Jupe.” Then she walked slowly toward Leader and placed another on the edge of the interface.
She started toward Brody when Leader said, “Don’t go near him. Slide it.”
Tahnya bit her lip but did as she was told. She sat down with the last gov-bar and nibbled on it. She had the same look on her face as when I showed her the suncot on the TriRing and she calculated how it was related to the rasaelas. “You weren’t supposed to get off Syktyv either, were you? You were supposed to get trapped in the Extrat attack too.”
Leader’s lips curled inward.
“Is that why you’re taking us to the Queen Mother’s home? Instead of approaching her at Syktyv?” Tahnya broke off a piece of her gov-bar with a snap. “You thought you’d have a better chance of trading us and what we know about the dark matter for your life if we weren’t near where you were supposed to die?”
“She double-crossed me.” Leader’s voice was harsh.
“What was more important than your faction?” I said.
For the first time, Leader lost the cyborg look. “A line.”
“You could’ve paid off some poor yellow-zone Solteran for theirs,” I said. “Or even stolen one. You’ve got the GUs for a murder.”
“Not enough GUs to buy a royal line.”
My lips thinned. “That was the deal? You betray us so you can get yourself a fancy line?” I had the urge to dry heave. ShuShu’s face on that creature . . . Raelyn and Levi . . . Angel, I didn’t know if they even survived. All because of her selfishness.
“I’m sick.” Her words cut through the Leech like a laser beam.
Tahnya made a slight sound.
Sick? The liar. “We’ve got tech—”
Leader’s lips twisted. “You can’t heal this with second-rate tech. It’s guaranteed death. Though the timing varies. I found out last cycle. As fast as you can cure illnesses, others will find new ways to betray you. Not even your uncle knew. But a royal line will cure it. Only the royal nanites will.”
“So you betrayed all of us,” I said. “Because you didn’t want to die. Only to get stabbed in the back and left for dead anyway? Man, ese, the Angel must love you.”
Leader snarled. “Just remember who refused to leave for Salvade in the first place.”
Her words were a punch to the kidneys. If I had volunteered to go to Salvade, I would’ve died. My death would’ve unhinged ShuShu, but at least he would’ve been alive. I didn’t want to be kicked out of the faction and be left alone, so I didn’t warn the innocent citizens of the attack. Instead, my uncle did. And, eventually, died for it, still leaving me alone.
Little Hero, he called me.
I stared at my shoes, too mournful to meet Leader’s accusing gaze. Look at your little hero now, ShuShu.
Tahnya took the gov-bar from my lap and unwrapped it. Every move illuminated her curves like hills and skin like soil. The bar was stale, the mealy texture pale. Her expression was open and warm and forgiving. She was the home I didn’t dare embrace for fear it too be stripped from me.
She held out her hand and I turned away from the invitation in the gesture, purposefully ignoring the hurt in her eyes. Purposefully ignoring the hurt pulling away sparked in me.
The blanket of grief numbed everything.
Chapter 3
LUKA
The compound was too desking silent save the faint curse of the too-cold breeze. Reminded me of the breathy puffs my father breathed when he passed out drunk and I hoped he wouldn’t wake. The entire compound smelled like it had been washed and left to mold in the damp.
So maybe Malani was right. There had been a flash flood. Big one, by the looks of rubble swept out into the street and alleyways and the stained water lines striping the walls, where the flood reached its highest. Fragments of banners caught on the corners of apartment buildings. Half of a chair leaned against a flattened solabike. A carved bird toy sat forgotten on a step. All the ‘stroids of every dia life lay abandoned in the wreckage.
We walked by quiet building after quiet building. Too much like the village after the Elik had been through. I kept sniffing the air, expecting to smell a burning pile of bodies around every corner. Kept readjusting my grip on the semi. Finding a massive pile of ashes would’ve been a welcome break to the tension. But there was no other scent save lingering cinnamon.
I grit my teeth. At least Brody didn’t have to see his home like this. I promised the kid on the TriRing I wouldn’t leave him behind. In the end, I left him behind with a psycho holding a gun to his already-bashed-in head. You’d think I’d learn. Yet here I was again, breaking another promise. Turns out, promises were nothing but worthless words injected with emotion meant to keep you in line.
I pictured the kid’s face, all rage and indignation at being held at gunpoint. It was annoying, the way the mental pic kept intruding into the front of my thoughts. I firmly set the image aside. Right now, the kid was no longer the top of my problem list.
We passed by the factories and a row of stripped trees. “There’s no bodies,” I said. “That’s good.”
Breaker whirled on me, his face furious. “How the hell is that a good thing? We don’t know what happened to them!”
I rolled my eyes. For someone supposedly so brilliant, it was surprising he ever passed basic. “Corpses don’t get up and walk. Somebody had to move them. Someone had to fill those graves. That means somebody survived. Question is: Where are they now?”
Malani slipped around a broken cart. “Or who are they?”
A piece of solatile fell from a now knee-level roof. Breaker jumped, almost tripping. He held out his new prosthesis. “Gonna have to add a better sole to the foot.”
He was deflecting. Before we left, I might’ve called him on his fear. Now, I let it alone. If I were him, I prolly would’ve been creeped out by the quiet, too. Even Malani walked more careful than she usually did.
We passed by what remained of Lewis's workshop. One of the bombs had landed a direct hit. Breaker stopped at the entrance, hand on the doorframe. He rubbed unconsciously where his tool bag hung. Malani put her hand on his back. “Want to go inside?”
He swallowed, face pinching. “My To-Fix table’s in there.”
I peered inside. I couldn’t even see around the first corner. If anyone had been inside when the bomb dropped, they wouldn’t have survived. “Was. Was in there.”
Malani’s wing flicked in my direction. A clear shut up. “Do you want to see?” She meant see if we can find Lewis’s body.
“No.” Breaker picked up the bag again. “Not yet.” He walked away. His shoulders tensed and his steps turned more hesitant.
I led us away. “We need to check someplace else.” Yana’s apartment was two streets over. I took a deep breath, quickened my pace. My minis swung more and more rapid against my side. The other guns rattled against my core.
By Yana’s street I was full-out running. These stupid pants, denim, Jupe called the material, wouldn’t let my legs bend. I skidded into a turn to face the empty street. There wasn’t much left here either. The buildings on this row stood but looked as though someone had punched them from behind, forcing them to cough out their insides. An edge of an abandoned basket. The handle of an axe. Windows wrenched open. That desking damp, molding smell.
I was at Yana’s door. An annoying ringing filled my ears. For a split sec, I didn’t want to look. Get it together, khaim-ass. The palm scanner was dead. I lifted a hand and the door practically dissolved under my touch. The paint job didn’t just need redoing now. She needed an entirely new bloody door. The stupid ringing sound pitched higher.
I stepped inside, hands on minis.
The single light bulb hung over the dingy kitchen table. Out of habit, I flicked the switch. It didn’t work. My orange tunic turned mud in the darkness. I let my eyes adjust.
One hole-riddled wall revealed the skeleton structure of the building. Forgot I did that. I gripped my minis, then turned slowly toward the bed.
Her folded form was not there. Not even a soggy pillow remained.
“She's not here.” My grip on my minis relaxed. But the annoying ringing only grew louder. The gun straps were too tight. Funny. Thought I had loosened them a while ago. “She's not here.” Did that mean she was one of the survivors or one of the grave mounds? Flash floods meant seeking higher ground. In the midst of a battle, though, nobody would have the opportunity to leave.
I was missing something again. The sensation was worse than an itch out of reach.
“Who?” Breaker had caught up. He ran a finger across the table’s surface and left a trail in the muck.
“Yana.” I turned away from the bed and examined the baby cradle. Unused. I must’ve had some expression on my face because both Breaker and Malani gave me looks of pity. My fist curled, wanting to punch the sentiment away. If anybody didn’t want pity, it was Yana.
I left the building, bringing up the image of her waddling down the street after she wrung that ‘stroiding promise from me. She didn’t look back. Even with her arms full of baby supplies, she didn’t look back as she left for—
The missing piece slammed into place.
Oh piece of hell. I’d been so stupid.
The survivors were in the underground.
Chapter 4
BREAKER
The nearest underground entrance that wasn’t smothered or barricaded with rubble happened to be the one I kidnapped Brody through. I could feel some ghost of my past laughing. The wind breezed through the damp turning it colder than normal. I glanced to the sky. Gray varnished the horizon, blurring the sense of time, and elongated all our shadows into something more vicious.