“The power was shut inside. Hang on a sec.” He stepped into the darkness. She heard a bang and swearing, and couldn’t help but smile.
She felt the ship jolt, the strong sound of the engine, always a low, constant hum in the back, fading until she no longer heard it.
“You got lucky! Avienne convinced the captain to leave the tunnel for a bit!”
He re-emerged from the dark room.
“Why don’t you use your light?” Layela pointed at the small square instrument neatly tucked in his belt. She realized she was trying to dissipate some of the tension she had created, out of fear for Josmere. She wished Ardin and Avienne weren’t so bloody human. It would make things easier.
“Because you have to come see this,” Ardin replied. “Come on, the light can wait.” He picked up Josmere, leaving Layela little choice but to follow. She only hesitated for an instant. If his intentions were less than honourable, he could have acted on them a thousand times by now.
The darkness was thick, and she reached out instinctively. Ardin’s hand grabbed hers and she was glad of the darkness, which hid her blushing face.
“Stay here for now,” he said, showing her where Josmere’s sleeping form lay. Layela crouched by Josmere, listening to Ardin as he disappeared into the darkness.
CLANG!
Layela’s breath caught in her throat at the noise and she leaned protectively over Josmere. The sound resonated throughout the ship.
She rose quickly when she felt, then saw, that the wall beside her was shifting sideways. The strange, unexpected movement made her dizzy for a few moments, but soon she was looking around, and realized that it wasn’t even a wall. She was standing beside huge shutters.
She could see stars before her, some far away and some closer, all slowly moving as they continued their universal dance. The window was huge, the entire wall folding in on itself.
Layela gently placed her hand on the sheet separating them from the void, her heart beating wildly as she looked around. Though Layela had not travelled extensively through space, she knew there were few sights such as this one in the universe. Before her, away from the shimmering tachyonic tunnel, a galaxy spiralled clearly, dots of light forming its core and tentacles. Some stars shone brightly, others were content to flicker.
But what made the galaxy so beautiful was the red dust that clung to its edges, blurring its outline and giving the whole system the appearance of being on fire. Around the fire was a large patch of dark space, with no twinkling stars, no clouds of nebulae, no promise of life. It made the galaxy that much crisper, its sides like flames, cleansing the space around itself. And the heart of it was deep purple, richer than any purple she had seen grace the most beautiful of blooms.
She felt Ardin coming to stand beside her.
“I’ve never seen such a sight.” Layela whispered, as though afraid of breaking the spell. “The whole galaxy looks like its own fire.”
“Some say it is,” Ardin replied. “There used to be two galaxies here, the nearest in the known universe, their gravitational pulls playing off of each other and making a bloody mess of the middle star systems. This tunnel was originally built to reach two major worlds of the second galaxy, the one that isn’t there anymore.”
Layela waited a heartbeat, certain she could see the red dust move, even this far away in the vastness of space.
“Then,” Ardin continued, “less than twenty years ago, something happened beyond the edges of the known worlds. It destroyed one of the galaxies, rocked the other one until it was practically dead, its stars covered by the dust of its neighbouring worlds.”
Layela swallowed hard. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so beautiful.
Ardin continued. “Lockor’s one of the few planets that survived, though it’s hardly the political powerhouse it used to be.” He chanced a sideward glance at Layela. “It’s on the edge. It’s safe.”
Layela’s eyes were trained on the darkness surrounding the galaxy and the deep purple heart, and she swore she could see it pulsate. Mists were beginning to gather at the faintest edges of her vision when Ardin spoke again and frightened them away.
“Now, after that cheerful tale, I invite you to look behind you.”
She did, and was greeted by a sight both too beautiful and too horrible to behold. The room, now softly illuminated by the light of the stars, was about a hundred times the size of the flower shop. On the far side, another starscape greeted her. It seemed that the room covered the entire width of the ship.
Between the two windows was a garden. A dead garden. The paths were made of stone and wove between patches she guessed had been meant for flowers. There were no pillars in the expansive room, which amazed Layela. It was a big room to require no internal support, especially when surrounded by viewing ports — a testament to the ship’s architecture.
Ardin picked up Josmere and gently placed her on some earth. Layela knelt beside her friend and freed her arms and legs from the blankets, placing them directly against the ground. She pushed the strands of hair up so her neck made direct contact as well and, in the pale light of a thousand stars, she saw her friend smile slightly. Enough for Layela to know this earth was strong and would heal her.
“I won’t be far,” she whispered in Josmere’s ear before standing again, intent on enjoying this place, even if it resembled a cemetery more than a garden.
She walked slowly down the stone pathways, imagining its beauty when it was in its prime. The air itself smelled of old earth and the promises of beautiful blooms. Small circular fountains were generously scattered throughout the garden and she imagined the pumped water that had once burst from the lilies at the top. Pumping water...she kept her pace steady as her mind raced, knowing full well Ardin was watching her. She had no intention of betraying her thoughts.
Vines cascaded from the ceiling, the lifeless plants falling apart at the slightest touch.
“How beautiful you must have been,” she whispered to one as she passed by it.
She felt sorrow grip her again — not the strong, vivid sorrow of seeing her beloved blooms scattered and destroyed, but the gentle grief of older wounds, not even her own. It now seemed too silent. Too silent for a place that held such hope of beauty.
“You haven’t seen everything yet,” Ardin called out, and in seconds another shutter began opening on the side of the room opposite from where they had entered.
The garden was located at the front of the ship, probably where it was narrowest, viewing ports covering its entire length. But the ship didn’t buckle, the viewing ports seemed to hold, as strong as the metal that protected the rest of Destiny. Had she not seen it, she would not have believed such a feat of engineering possible. She stumbled toward the front window. Two giant trees, only trunks now, were silent guardians of the front window. She looked up. The vaulted ceiling adorned with arches and filled with designs that she couldn’t make out in the dim light, rose up above her, where once the trees must have soared.
She wanted to tell Ardin how beautiful it was, but words had escaped her.
“I thought you might like it,” he said, looking at her sideways.
She nodded. “It must have been astounding in its prime.”
“I wish I could have seen it, too,” Ardin whispered, and for the first time, she detected sadness in his voice.
“You’ve never seen it?”
He looked ahead at the stars. “This is my home, Layela. And it has been my home for almost as long as I can remember. There was another place, before this, with warm light and colourful flowers.” He paused and added in a hush, “Avienne can’t remember that home at all.”
Ardin ran his hand through his hair, which Layela now recognized as his signature nervous move. She spotted her opening and went for it, beating back her feelings of guilt.
“I know you don’t really want to do this, Ardin,” Layela said, catching and holding his gaze. “Kidnapping doesn’t seem to sit well with you.” She took a chance. “It seems more Avie
nne’s style.”
Ardin sighed and turned around, looking out at the red galaxy. He stood so still that his profile seemed etched into the ship.
“I know that this might not mean much to you, considering the current situation, but I’ve promised that I’ll do everything in my power to see that you’re not hurt. I don’t know why we were told to bring you to Lockor, but we won’t go any further than kidnapping.” He winced slightly as he used the word for the first time. Layela turned from him and looked at the galaxy as well. Ardin and Avienne would be harder to tear apart than she had hoped.
Unlike her and her own sister. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and Ardin turned to face her. Layela managed a smile. “Not your usual job, kidnapping, is it?”
“Times have been too hard for us to say no to any job, especially one that pays so well, I’m afraid,” Ardin replied. “This ship does have the capacity for light and heat, I’ll have you know.”
She smiled bitterly again. “I guess I’m visiting at the wrong time, then?”
Ardin’s expression sobered. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to bring you to Lockor?”
Layela looked at him, letting the question hang, trapped in the air for a few moments. Everything seemed surreal. From the dead flowers to the large windows, the vaulted ceiling up above to the flickering, dancing shadows, the galaxy swirling nearby, a graveyard of countless civilizations.
“I have no idea,” she whispered, looking at the starry landscape before her, letting the vastness of the universe wash over her. She didn’t share the hope she still clung to with desperate fervour. That it was her sister who had sent for her. That Yoma was still alive and waiting for her, waiting to protect her, as she had always done. As she had promised to always do.
“Am I interrupting anything?” The soft voice made them both jerk. Josmere stood near, beautifully vibrant, her eyes glinting with the reflection of countless stars.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Layela said as she hugged her friend. The Berganda returned the gesture, practically smothering Layela with the blanket. Layela wondered if Josmere was so adamant about not touching her friend now that her strength had been restored, lest even the slightest skin contact reveal Layela’s frightening vision.
“We’d best go,” Ardin said, leading both of them out of the gardens. As the shutters closed and engulfed the starry sky, Layela watched the light fade from the garden and committed it to her memory.
Ardin quickly locked the room again, stark metal doors offering no hint of the beauty that lay within. Layela wondered how many more secrets this ship held.
Josmere walked on her own, not complaining or resisting. Layela knew full well that Ardin had forgotten he was dealing with experienced thieves and had allowed them to see enough to escape their room, and probably the ship.
13
Layela counted her thief’s breaths, keeping track of passing time in this timeless space. It had been about ten minutes, and Ardin must have reached the bridge by now. Time to move.
She nodded to Josmere, who grinned and popped the panel on the wall. All they needed to do was leave their room; the code to access the rest of the ship was already theirs, thanks to Ardin. It ensured them the speed their escape would have otherwise lacked. Expert green hands glided over the wiring of door, and within seconds Layela heard the latch change positions. She grinned at Josmere and pushed the door open.
Her breath came quietly as she glanced down the empty corridor. Josmere passed her and they both headed towards the door they had crossed through with Ardin mere minutes ago, the large metal gate opening easily with the access code she had instinctively memorized.
Some habits die hard.
They crossed the threshold and Josmere closed the door, leaving them in a deep and hollow darkness. She heard Josmere take a deep breath and knew the Berganda was remembering the position of every fountain, garden patch and withered tree.
“Time for us to go,” Josmere said, grabbing hold of Layela’s arm and walking without hesitation. Rarely had she herself seen Josmere use this particular skill, but Yoma had complimented it often.
“Ten seconds! That’s all the time she needs to see a space, commit it to memory and navigate it in the dark! It’s amazing, Layl!”
You were right, Yoma, Layela thought seconds before tripping on a garden divider and almost falling, held up only by Josmere’s strong grip.
“What about this ten-second gift I’ve heard so much about?” Layela mumbled as she continued following Josmere, the darkness thick and smothering.
“Hey, I was half-dead. Give a girl a break!”
“Here we are,” she said kneeling carefully, which Layela did as well, tiring her eyes by trying to focus them through the thick veil of enclosed twilight.
She reached out and felt the smooth stone of the fountain. Earlier, when walking around with Ardin, the lack of columns had struck her, and she imagined the windows must be of an extremely strong material. It also made her question which areas of the floor and ceiling contained conduits and wiring. The one place where strong tunnelling was necessary was the fountain, which could easily be their way out. If Layela had mapped the ship correctly, the gardens were just above the shuttle bay. She felt giddy at the thought. How convenient.
“Access panels should be down here,” Josmere mumbled, running her smooth fingers on the side of the fountain. She was certain the engineers had left access to the water pipes, meaning panels would likely be in this section of the floor.
They had to be.
“Victory, my friend,” Josmere said as she noisily pulled up what could only be the cover to an access tunnel. Layela moved toward the sound and felt the large section of the thickest side of the fountain removed.
“I don’t suppose you know how far these tunnels go, ten-second girl?” Layela asked.
“I did my part, Layl. Now’s your turn to dance.” She could hear the grin in Josmere’s voice, and pulled a small instrument free from her belt, making sure it was well aimed at Josmere’s face before turning it on.
The Berganda winced and ducked as Layela turned on the light right in front of Josmere’s eyes.
“You have a light?”
Layela shrugged. “I stole it from Ardin earlier.”
“Why didn’t you take it out before now!?”
It was Layela’s turn to grin. “I wanted to witness this ten-second ability firsthand.”
Josmere smirked at her and motioned for Layela to lead the way. “Good job, Layela. I always said we could have made a thief out of you.”
“I was once, remember?” she whispered, but the Berganda was too focused on the task at hand to hear.
Layela sighed and crawled into the access tunnel, the metal surrounding them still shiny after all these years. In the reflection of the light, for one instant, Layela saw the eyes of the Kilita. She swallowed hard and pushed the memories deep.
The tunnel was short, leading to a ladder that only headed down.
“Must lead to the docking bay,” Josmere whispered, and Layela nodded, sticking the light in her mouth as she began the descent, the cold biting her hands as she grabbed one metal rung after another. She hoped Josmere’s hands would safely carry her the whole way, especially considering that she was above Layela on the ladder.
At the next level, she silently let go of the rungs and fell onto the small metal landing, an access door right in front of them. Josmere joined her and she punched in the code.
They could hear someone singing. Layela cringed. It was Lang, the navigator, and from the loud singing, it sounded like he had a healthy stash of alcohol on board as well.
“Wait here,” Josmere whispered. “I want to try something.”
Layela wanted to protest, but the Berganda slipped out quickly and quietly, closing the door behind her.
Layela counted her breaths.
Thief’s breaths.
The man was drunk, there was little doubt about that, but Josmere didn’t take an
y chances. Keeping low and quiet, she approached where he sat on the floor, in the middle of the bay by the shuttles.
She had been unable to read Ardin. She only knew of two other people who could stop her powers if they so wished: the Delamores. The legend of Berganda being able to suck the souls out of individuals was greatly exaggerated. She could read their minds, however, and destroy them if necessary. But it wasn’t just an automatic happenstance, as the government seemed intent to believe. The Berganda had to will the mind-merge.
She crouched by the last crate, calculating the steps necessary to reach him. He was still singing, and moving sporadically. She could approach him, if she was fast. She crouched and waited, removing her gloves.
Her ether gloves were yet another useless, paranoid stupidity on the part of the Solarian government. One of so many, really. Wearing them served only to further alienate and frighten people. All of the ether races were forced to wear them, races whose powers were now dwindling and whose people were dying.
She took a deep breath, straightened and walked forward with a confident strut. According to Layela, the navigator was not from the ship’s original crew, and she knew that she could read him even before she touched his cold clammy skin and his eyes bulged in surprise. She followed his thoughts and controlled them, forcing him to show her his knowledge of the ship, of the shuttle, of how to escape with little notice, to which the man had thankfully dedicated much thought.
The man collapsed, unconscious but breathing, and so drunk that he probably would remember nothing in the morning. He knew a lot about the ship’s functionality, its illegal activities and where all the liquor was stored. He also knew he was trapped here, by his own habit and by the captain, who knew a good controllable navigator when he met one and was not fool enough to let him go. At the same time, his memories were clouded by visions of a beautiful blonde woman, her laughter and touch, and such sorrow...Josmere saw the woman’s dead features, felt the drink through his blood, and his detachment from this reality. Too pained by memory, too cowardly to take his own life, he was withering away in the Destiny. And he didn’t care, knowing this was as good as he would ever get, hoping it would all end soon enough.
Destiny's Blood (The First Star Book 1) Page 11