Destiny's Blood (The First Star Book 1)

by Marie Bilodeau

  “No good,” she reported. Her fingers moved more frantically, as if repetition could make the commands work. “Our outgoing communications are down.”

  Cailan sat back down at the engineering console. Behind them, the war raged on. Destiny acted as a shield — the only thing protecting the unarmed civilian ship. Still, several volleys flew by the larger ship and barely missed the Meltor.

  “Please take your confrontation outside the tunnel,” the voice was growing shriller with each new communication.

  Avienne wished she could contact them, if only to tell them to shut up and let her concentrate.

  “Captain!” Ardin screamed from the controls, and Avienne looked up just in time to see an explosion of blue light. Destiny’s starboard engine started its collapse, sending them into the side of the tunnel. Destiny groaned and buckled right, the port engine still firing full. Blue sparks surrounded them as the tachyon particles went flying, breaking free of their carefully created artificial route.

  “Pull her back, Ardin,” Cailan said, madly fighting with the engineering controls. Ardin managed to pull her off the wall for a few moments, but a shot to Destiny’s side sent her flying back. Avienne kept a close eye on the tachyonic shields.

  Meltor’s emergency signals continued, the ship’s course affected by flying particles, the freighter obviously fighting to keep control.

  “I’ve almost got the secondary manual controls up, Ardin,” Cailan calmly called out. Seconds later, the engine kicked back in and the Destiny regained the safer middle of the tunnel.

  “We’ve lost contact with most of the ship,” Avienne said. She wondered how many of her crewmates, her family, were dead or dying in Destiny’s catacombs.

  Dunkat was growing impatient. It was bad enough that Noro had provided him, Colonel of Solarian Defence, with only 210 ships, but to man them only with new recruits added insult to injury.

  “A simple training exercise, isn’t that what this pet project of yours is, Dunkat?”

  Arrogant. They were all too arrogant, he thought as the Destiny regained its composure before him, no longer bouncing like a fish out of water on the wall of the tunnel. She was a tough old ship, but he had had enough. If he could not have her, he needed to stop her.

  A pity. More analysis of the ship’s technology could have lead to interesting discoveries, but stopping the rebirth of the First Star was more important than anything else.

  “Prepare to fire plasma cannons.” Dunkat gave the order, and the young soldier eagerly punched in the command.

  There was one advantage to the young recruits: they didn’t know when to question his dangerous moves.

  He hoped they at least knew how to aim.

  “Destiny,” Kipso’s voice boomed over the Meltor’s panicked shrieks. “Destroy the freighter now, while it’s in sight.”

  Layela’s eyes met Josmere’s surprised look. “What are they talking about?”

  Cailan turned to her for an instant, frowning and looking just as puzzled, when Avienne’s toneless voice ripped through the bridge. “Their lead ship is charging its plasma weapons.”

  Layela looked speculatively at Avienne. Avienne shrugged and said, “If they fire in here and hit the wall, the whole tunnel will collapse.”

  “Oh.”

  “Avienne, do we have enough shields to take the hit?”

  The redhead was already shaking her head before the captain finished speaking. “Our tachyonic shields will fail if I draw any more power to tactical.”

  Cailan nodded. “Ardin, avoid that blast. We’ll have to take our chances where best they lie. Everyone, strap in!”

  “Firing! Twenty-four degrees on our starboard side!”

  “Moving!” Ardin pulled at levers and hit buttons. The slow-loading plasma cannon took a few seconds to fire, giving Destiny almost enough time to get out of the way. Almost.

  “Compensating!” Avienne screamed, diverting whatever was left of tactical shields to the starboard engines. The shot ricocheted off the energy shield, right into the wall of the tunnel. For a second, nothing happened. The tunnel appeared to have swallowed the blast.

  Then, the whole tunnel shuddered around them as freed tachyons smashed into the failing shields. All of them covered their ears in pain as the tachyon wails broke through — all but the Berganda, who could hear much deeper and finer songs.

  Even the Meltor’s pleas grew silent. Every soul in the tunnel quickly came to the same realization.

  The tunnel was collapsing fast, and precious little time remained to escape a slow and cruel death.

  22

  Destiny’s remaining engine fired wildly as her crew urged every bit of power into it. Every single inch of the ship shook with the strain, including her crew. The end of the tunnel proved too far, but the second-to-last exit could be their salvation. It was near, but possibly still too far down the collapsing tunnel.

  Layela clutched her seat, looking down. The lights were out and only the frenzied electric blue light of the tunnel illuminated the bridge, giving her the sensation of being under water. She chanced a look at the tunnel. The blue lights were no longer controlled, but flying wildly, with just enough particles travelling in the right direction for Destiny to ride. The silence was intense on the bridge. Everyone concentrated on their stations and only an odd, occasional shrieking sound penetrated from outside when too many particles struck the tachyonic shields that protected the hull. She wondered what the song of tachyons would sound like were they not in the vast, still emptiness of space.

  Avienne’s tense voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. “A Mirial ship is passing us.”

  “Probably trying to get out of here,” Lang muttered from his station, watching the countdown to the exit on his panel.

  “They’re firing at the freighter!”

  “Please stop firing! We are a civilian ship!” the Meltor captain’s voice shrieked back to life.

  “What are they doing?” Layela went to jump up, but the seat harness kept her secure. She undid it and stood. Her legs felt like jelly on the shaking deck.

  “Our communications are still down, but I have weapons,” Avienne told Cailan, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. Layela stood by Avienne, watching the small ship firing on the large freighter, its tachyon shields reflecting blue and purple as each shot weakened them dangerously.

  “Almost at the exit,” Lang said in hushed tones.

  Cailan shook his head slowly, looking at the small ship as he gave the order. “Take them out, Avienne.” Then he added quietly, “Make it a clean shot. It’ll be a nicer death than collapsing with this tunnel.”

  “Aye,” Avienne softly replied as she targeted the ship. Layela looked up at the ship, the Meltor’s pleas suddenly seeming far away. She tried to envision Yoma on the ship, in the same danger she was in, but still her mind could not connect with her sister’s, even as tears of despair spilled down her face.

  Yoma stared at the shuttered window, desperately focusing on Layela as the ship jerked again. She gritted her teeth and held tightly to her seat, wishing she could do something; wishing she wasn’t so helpless.

  The captain’s plea sounded over and over again. “Please cease fire, we are a civilian ship.”

  Just shut up and bear it, Yoma thought, knowing his pleas to be in vain.

  The ship jerked again and her muscles ached from clutching her seat. As the tachyons broke free and their wails forced everyone around her to cover their ears, Yoma’s heart grew quiet. Sacrificing the Meltor and all on board was the only way to save her sister.

  Let me go, Layela, Yoma pleaded, hoping her sister would know her heart and choose to stand without her twin. Only one of us can live, and I want it to be you.

  She sat back and felt her muscles relax, waiting for the death she knew to be necessary. She mused over how many she would be willing to sacrifice, including herself, to see her sister safe.

  “Firing!” Avienne screamed. The word sliced through Layela, mists b
linding her sight so effectively she couldn’t see what her vision had foretold. Still, she knew she had to do something to stop it. Her instincts begged and screamed her to, and energized her limbs. Without thought, she threw herself on the redhead. The weapons remained unfired and cuss words flew freely as Layela’s impact brought Avienne to the floor.

  “What the…” Avienne started, angrily pushing Layela aside, when a flash stopped her short.

  “Exiting the tunnel,” Ardin whispered as the blue faded, but not before Layela could see the outcome of her actions. Without Avienne’s shot to stop the Mirial ship, the Meltor had been destroyed, two hundred civilians killed.

  “I…” Layela tried to say something, stunned by her own actions. Her tongue felt thick and awkward.

  Avienne quickly got up, shrugging as she offered her hand to Layela. “What’s done is done.”

  Layela took the offered hand and was pulled to her feet. Cailan shouted, “Evasive manoeuvres! Avienne, shields, now!”

  Layela was jerked off of her feet again and onto Josmere, who caught her and held her tight as the ship jostled. She looked out the view port but didn’t understand what she was seeing. The space around them was purple, a deep purple, with darker wisps stroking their ship as it desperately tried to turn. The groaning metal seemed to be pulled in various directions.

  She saw a few of the smaller ships emerge from the tunnel into the purple mass, some of them quickly torn apart by the vicious matter. She might have thought the deep purple was the tunnel itself, but she could see the tunnel shuddering beside it, a blue, frenzied snake writhing in the vast cosmos as it lay down its final breath. The tunnel turned bright for an instant, blinding her, and when she could see again, all that remained of it was a faint shimmer of blue. In a moment, that too vanished, leaving only the purple beast behind.

  Destiny’s engines spat one more time, breaking free. The sky was once again littered with stars, but the ship’s bold efforts had cost her the rest of her shields and most of her engine power.

  “What is that?” Avienne asked as she looked at the great purple mass that had almost swallowed them, too much in awe to even muster a swear.

  “A dense nebula?” Ardin guessed, although he didn’t believe his own words. Before them the sky stood purple and empty. Any light that had dared to venture this far had been swallowed in the swirling, thick gases.

  “Where are we?” Avienne asked, but Lang only mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. His gaze was deep in his star charts.

  A few ships floated around them, some in a straight line, others tumbling over themselves.

  “Captain Cailan,” Kipso’s voice came crisply over the communications system. “Please follow the escort.” There was a pause. “If you resist, we will destroy you.”

  Ardin looked questioningly at Cailan, his features tense with worry and confusion.

  Cailan wearily nodded. “Do as he says, Ardin.” The captain rose from his seat. “If you need me, I’ll be in engineering,” he whispered as he lowered himself over the first rung. The siblings exchanged a long look, and Avienne’s shoulders dropped.

  Layela paid little heed to them. She felt Josmere hug her tightly, the Berganda’s body shaking as tears ran down her face and onto Layela’s shoulder. Layela wanted to comfort her, but before any words could escape, she too began to cry, at first quietly, but then with an emptiness and deep sorrow that ripped her soul apart.

  Somewhere along the length of the collapsed tunnel, or in the purple beast that had swallowed it, were the Meltor’s broken remains.

  Which meant her sister was dead. Layela moaned.

  Yoma was dead, and it had been her doing.

  II

  Day Breaks

  23

  Captain Kipso strolled down the walkway, his hands tightly clutched behind his back, his shoulders stiff and unswaying. Cailan waited patiently for him, the Malavant siblings flanking him. The rest of the crew was still inside the Destiny, tending to their dead and wounded.

  All except Josmere, who lazily leaned against the side of the exit tube that linked the Destiny to the tired station. The docks that housed the Destiny were small, the farming community of the nearby planet of Vock rarely seeing traffic. Mostly self-sufficient, it was only sought out for its rarer plants, like the Booknots. Almost close enough to be a moon was the industrial planet of Lockor, where more resources were available and where they would have made berth had the Destiny been able to reach it with her wounds.

  Josmere wished she could close her eyes for an instant. The song of so many Booknots tugged at her mind—a song so similar to that of the Berganda that it stirred her soul and threatened to trap her in the midst of sorrow and loss.

  Kipso was almost upon Cailan, and she forced her mind to stop wandering. She had already lost everything: her family, her home…and a woman she considered a sister. She was not about to chance losing Layela too, and she knew that whatever was to be discussed here involved Layela’s future.

  She pushed herself off the wall and approached as the two captains hesitantly greeted each other.

  Her movement caught Captain Kipso’s eyes and he studied her, her green eyes, green hair half tied back, and green skin, before looking back inquiringly at Cailan.

  “She’s a friend,” Cailan stated, not looking back, not backing down, and not asking Josmere to leave, even when Kipso’s slit eyes made it clear he did not want this meeting witnessed by outsiders. Cailan added nothing more. Josmere felt her respect for the man grow — a rare sensation for her.

  “Why did you destroy that civilian freighter?” Cailan asked before Kipso could find something else to object about. The fat man’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.

  “You don’t know? Of course you don’t know.” Then he mumbled, “Captain Malavant died too quickly to tell you anything, or properly pass down the captainship.”

  Ardin stiffened visibly beside Cailan, but Avienne became as still as a cat waiting to pounce. Josmere watched with interest, her fingers itching for the switchblade strapped in her boot as the fat man spoke so lightly of Yoma’s murder.

  Cailan whispered, each syllable falling like a sharp blade, “Captain Malavant died quickly at the hands of Mirialers, refusing to betray a man he considered to be his friend.”

  Ardin’s eyes narrowed. Josmere wondered if perhaps the siblings had not been aware of how their father had died. Avienne didn’t budge, but Kipso kept a close eye on her.

  Not the fool I would have believed him to be, Josmere thought. I hope Avienne doesn’t down him before we learn why Yoma had to die.

  Kipso sighed, his belly rising and falling. Josmere wondered if he had once looked younger too, like Cailan had before this day.

  “Cailan,” Kipso began. He paused, his eyes darting to the siblings before resting on the captain again. “Malavant knew what he was doing, but that meant betraying Mirial.”

  “He would never betray the Mother Star,” Cailan hissed, so fiercely that Avienne even broke her watch on the fat captain to stare at him.

  “No?” Kipso said, eyebrow arching. “You don’t even know why he had to die. Why do you believe you knew the man at all?”

  Cailan took a step forward, but the round man stared him down, fighting to stay his ground. Cailan said nothing and the air sizzled around them. A few of Kipso’s crew came forward, hands on the weapons at their belts. Ardin’s hand lowered to his own gun and two knives appeared in Avienne’s hands. Josmere took a step forward to stand beside Avienne, her muscles relaxed and ready for action.

  “Captain?” a woman behind Kipso asked. Her eyes were trained on the siblings, but her hand shook just enough above her gun to tell Josmere of her inexperience. She grinned and lifted her chin, looking at the young woman, whose hand trembled just a bit more.

  Then a single angry word sliced through the silence and tension. “Stop!” Josmere’s grin disappeared as she turned to see Layela storming down the walkway towards them. The two captains exchanged a brief gla
nce.

  Layela caught up to them, her eyes dry but her closed fists trembling where they hugged her thighs. Her words, though softly spoken, cut the air.

  “There will be no more killing over this.” In turn she looked at both captains, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on Kipso, who looked away from her. “No more, captains.”

  Cailan nodded respectfully and backed down, Ardin’s limbs were stiff as he did the same. Avienne sighed as she, too, followed suit. Kipso held out his hand and spread his fingers before lowering it. His own troops looked visibly relieved.

  Layela took one more step forward, her hands no longer trembling, her fingers unclenched as she came to stand before the two captains, looking at Kipso. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible over the distant roar of departing ships.

  “Why did you kill my sister?”

  Kipso’s eyes strayed from hers, as though he could not stand to focus on the night in them. The casual way Layela chose to confront her sister’s killer tore at Josmere’s heart and she had to look away, choosing instead to keep an eye on the Mirialers.

  The stale, old air of the station heavily draped the Berganda’s mind, the coldness of space tingling on her skin until all she could yearn for was sun. Sun, and the feel of strong earth beneath her. Kipso broke the spell with his words.

  “Because only one can live, Lady.” He looked at Cailan pleadingly, but the captain did not even meet his eyes, focusing instead on Layela. Kipso sighed, running his fingers through his hair and revealing hidden white. “Only one daughter of the queen can live, if Mirial is to survive.”

  Layela did not move, did not look away, and said nothing. Her silence was heavier than all the ships in the universe. To his credit, Kipso did not look away this time, his voice soothing as he continued, his words dimming his eyes just a bit.

  “It is written in the texts, Lady. Only one queen can wield the ether of the First Star, lest the balance be lost, between light and darkness, night and day. Even your names say as much, in old Mirialer — Yoma means day, Layela night. Usually one of the daughters is killed at birth, but this time…”