by Laura Lam
Eris still didn’t move. “You aren’t with the Novantae. Our leadership didn’t mention another team assigned to this mission, and there is no way they’d appreciate two dozen corpses of soldiers that could have been deprogrammed.”
Nyx tensed. All of them had been her kills. Nyx thought it was easier to leave them behind and do what she’d been born to do.
Nothing in Nyx’s training had taught her how to spare someone. They only worshiped seven gods in the Tholosian Empire: Letum, Bel, Rem, Salutem, Phobos, Algea, and Soter. Death, War, Honor, Survival, Fear, Agony, and Salvation. There was no place in their pantheon for Mercy.
“We had no choice,” Rhea said, hands folded in front of her skirts. She was good at playing demure and nonthreatening; that made her more dangerous. “We escaped to join the Novantae.”
“So, let me get this straight. Your plan was to murder a Legate and his guards, commandeer a ship, and just . . . find the resistance?” Clo asked. “That’s not even a plan. Seven devils, that’s barely even a fraction of a plan. That’s like a note to self after a night of carousing.”
Ariadne bristled. “We knew where to go; we just needed a way to get there. We planned this for a year.”
Clo’s assessment had struck the kid’s pride; Ariadne was nothing if not confident of her skills and knowledge. Without her, none of them would have made it this far. Nyx and Rhea would have been found out and executed, their heads left out on the fringes of the royal palace on Tholos as a warning to anyone who dared to rebel against the Archon and the Oracle’s program uploads.
“And why did you think the resistance would welcome you?” Eris asked. “It’s a nice ship, but if the Empire thinks the resistance was involved in killing the Legate, they’ll redouble their efforts against us. You three might be more trouble than you’re worth.”
“We know our worth,” Ariadne insisted, angling her chin up. “Rhea”—she pointed to the other woman, who gave a little curtsy—“is a magnificent, highly talented courtesan who is very prone to extracting interesting details post-coitus.”
Nyx shut her eyes and muttered, “Please, seven gods of Avern, never let me hear that kid say the word coitus again.”
Ariadne ignored Nyx and pointed at herself. “I happen to be an excellent engineer. There’s nothing I can’t hack.”
Clo scoffed at that. “Nothing? Even the Oracle?”
Ariadne smiled, thin-lipped. “Even the Oracle. One is nowhere to be found on this ship. I made sure of it.”
That got their attention. Good.
“Hacking the Oracle . . .” Clo echoed, almost awed. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“I know.” Ariadne flashed her teeth. “I’m marvelous. I even helped Rhea deprogram Nyx.”
Clo’s mouth hung open.
“Did you?” Eris asked. Eris remained expressionless, but Nyx caught her gleam of fascination. As if Nyx were some new species to be inspected, catalogued, and studied.
Nyx laid her hand on Ariadne’s shoulder before the kid responded. “Yeah, she did. After my training, it wasn’t easy, either. I was the best soldier in my cohort, and I reported to General Damocles directly. I rose seven ranks in two years.”
Eris didn’t seem convinced. “The courtesan would be easy enough to get approval for permanent transport from Tholos. But an engineer so good that she can hack the Oracle and a soldier skilled enough to report to the General don’t seem expendable enough. I should think the Archon would want to keep you both close.” She flickered a glance at Rhea. “Not meaning any offense to your work, of course. It’s only that dona often come from the Pleasure Garden.”
“None taken,” Rhea replied. “I know that.”
“We were never meant to leave,” Nyx said. “Ariadne had never even left the Temple. She hacked the manifest and added our false names and identities as dona, and that was the easiest part of her job. So, don’t pretend the Novantae wouldn’t be desperate to welcome us into your ranks.”
“Plus, we were going to come with a ship,” Ariadne said, smiling more broadly at them. “A ship they already wanted.”
“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Rhea added. “Safety and a new life for us, and in return we tell you everything we know.”
“The resistance could have saved us a trip, if they had known,” Eris said. She glanced at Nyx. “And if you ever point a Mors at me like that again, I’ll put a bullet in you.”
“With that ancient hunk of metal?” Nyx said mildly, nodding at the gun.
“I’ve got great aim.”
“So do I.”
“Enough dick-measuring,” Clo said in exasperation. “We’re interested in the cargo. Were you planning on using it as another bargaining chip to the Novantae?” She reached into her pocket. Nyx brought up her Mors again, and Clo made a placating motion with her free hand. She held up a swaddled object. “Someone tell me what the salt this is, please.”
Nyx crossed her arms. “Looks like a dirty, wadded-up glove to me.”
“Thanks, genius.” Clo rolled her eyes. “I mean what’s in the glove. We found a bunch of rocks in some containers near the back of the ship that set off my hazard detector.”
“We aren’t sure what they’re for,” Rhea said, coming closer. Her skirts swished against Nyx’s leg as she passed. “We thought it was explosives, ammo, something. We checked it out before we boarded the ship, but Ari didn’t have the time to look through the Oracle’s system.” She nodded to the covered glove. “Mind if we take a look?”
Clo eyed Rhea’s dress. “Unless that flimsy thing offers protection against potentially hazardous materials, you might want to either step away or put something else on before I remove the glove.”
Nyx sighed and holstered her gun so she could reach behind her and grab one of the military officer’s coats hanging on the back of a nearby chair. Every boot, glove, and uniform in the Empire was designed with internal tech to withstand most of the dangerous shit planets could throw at them. “Here.”
She passed the thick material to Rhea. The dead man’s coat covered Rhea like a blanket, but it swathed her body to protect her. It was probably a lot warmer than that dress, too.
Clo waited until Rhea buttoned the coat, then uncovered the rock. Nyx edged forward to get a better look. She’d only seen it in the shipping bay days before they’d boarded, and the light hadn’t been all that great; it had looked black. In the overhead lights of the comm center, the rock was gray with a sheen of blue, purple, and green, like multicolored feathers. The outside was rough and bulbous.
“Oooh,” Ariadne said. “Pretty! We should turn the med bay into a lab and bust it open.”
“Bust it open?” Nyx snorted. “Are you cracked? No. You don’t even know what it is.”
“But—”
Eris put up a hand before anyone could say anything else. “As much as I’d like to discuss the rock, we ought to put more distance between us and Myndalia first. Clo, can you prep the ship?”
“Fine.” Clo held the rock out to Eris. “Here, take this stupid thing.”
Ariadne slid between them. “Can I have it?” she asked brightly. “I love rocks. I’ll take good care of it.”
Clo pressed her lips together and gave Eris another meaningful look.
Eris muttered something that sounded like reluctant assent. Clo wrapped the rock again and passed it over to Ariadne. As she did, her arm brushed the courtesan’s. Clo inhaled and pulled away as though the small touch burned, and Rhea’s mouth curled into a smile.
Well, flames of Avern, Nyx thought. Looks like someone wasn’t immune to Rhea’s charms.
Ariadne stuffed the glove-covered rock in her pocket. “It won’t be easy to start the ship up again.”
Clo seemed flustered. “I’ll go down and double-check the engines are okay after the electromag blasts. I take it you can sort the computers?”
“I’ll deal with the bodies,” Nyx said, voice steady.
She knew none of the others would be able to. They’d avoided speaking about what had just happened. Rhea had small splatters of blood on the back of her skirt. She hadn’t noticed yet, but she would when she undressed—and it would hurt her to see. Rhea wore her heart on her sleeve. So did Ariadne. It was Nyx who knew to tuck hers away, somewhere dark and quiet and deep inside.
Eris stepped forward. “I’ll help, if you need. I’m not squeamish.”
“No,” Nyx mused. “I don’t expect you are.”
“Are you taking us to Nova?” Ariadne sounded so hopeful, Nyx almost winced.
Clo and Eris exchanged glances before the smaller woman answered. “I haven’t decided. Make sure we’re safe, and then we’ll talk.”
Nyx didn’t ask what would happen if Eris decided she didn’t like their talk. If she refused them safe passage . . . well, Nyx still had her weapon, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
Even if they reached the Novantae, the resistance might not be as brilliant as Ariadne had always hoped they’d be. The girl spoke about rebels like they were the last bastion of humanity and light in this dark, twisted universe. Nyx didn’t have the heart to tell her that the resistance was likely as messed-up as the Empire. They’d have their own motivations. If that didn’t suit her? Nyx would find some way to escape from them, too. She was done with her life being decided for her.
She’d be damned if she’d let someone else get inside her head or make her into their weapon again.
Nyx wore the tattoos on her skin. She had sacrificed to the Gods of Death and War too many times already. Her honor was in shreds.
Now she prayed only to Salutem. To Survival.
14.
CLO
Present day
Clo was glad to have the engines to herself. They didn’t ask her to play a role; she never had to pretend around machines.
Every mechanism and part of Zelus was in harmony and song. She’d never been able to work on something so sleek before. The main engines were on their lowest power setting, the ship hovering in space until Clo directed them. After verifying the jump drive was in order, Clo searched for any hidden surprises. Sometimes, Empire ships installed extra trackers to make sure there were no unscheduled jumps erased from the logs. Ariadne might be confident that she hacked the Oracle, but Clo wasn’t. She found a tracker and ripped it out, grinding it beneath her steel-toed boot.
For as long as she could spare, she sat, listening to the song of the machinery. She let her anger at having to work with Eris fade as much as it could. There, in the engine room, no one was around to hear her as she struggled to control her heaving breaths, her pounding heart, her shaking body.
So many dead men. Three women they were now responsible for. On a stolen ship. Mission sunk.
Eris’s fault. Again.
She shook her head sharply. Stop it. Just get through this.
She stayed until she was calm once more. She carefully constructed her previous facade: working with Eris was fine. She could handle this. All she had to do was deliver the women to Nova, and she’d ask Kyla to give her another mission that involved flying ships out into the stars like she was meant to.
Yes, she’d stick with machines. Machines weren’t capable of betrayal.
Back to the command center, she told herself. Only a little longer.
When Clo left the engine room, a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye shattered her calm. The fear raced back, as if it had never left.
Clo unhooked the Mors from her shoulder and eased her way down the hallway, weapon at the ready.
When she reached the end of the corridor, there was only an Empire flag hung from the ceiling, the same as every hallway throughout the ship, with those familiar black scythes cradling the dark moon. Like the murals, they were another constant reminder of Tholosian patriotism. They’d even been everywhere in the Snarl, but no one had been brave enough to deface them.
The flag flapped in the breeze coming from an air duct. Her mech cuff showed no heat signatures in this quarter of the ship. She was alone.
Clo was losing it.
Right. She was busy dragging bodies to throw out of the airlock. Clo shuddered, glad she’d managed to dodge that job.
She rounded the corner into the loading bay, pausing when a soft click sounded to her left. It took her a split second to realize someone was climbing into the bullet craft—a man, sandy blond hair, pale skin, wearing a spacesuit dark as the night sky. Light reflected off the sleek helmet he held poised over his head. A spacesuit’s cooling layers would mask a heat signature.
“Hey!” Clo pointed her Mors at him, her heart thudding but her hand steady.
“Fuck,” he muttered, ramming the helmet on this head. He dodged behind a crate.
Clo sprinted after him and fired her Mors just above his head. The shots echoed through the metallic loading bay, sending sparks as the lasers sizzled across the metal. He didn’t even pause.
Clo ignored Eris.
The man had pried open the door to the bullet craft, but at her second shot, he ducked to the other side for cover. Clo crept closer, footsteps silent. The others would be coming her way for backup, but she hoped she could disable the straggler before they did.
And what then? A silent corner of her mind asked. Would you kill him? Sink him like a stone in a marsh?
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even think it.
Clo ducked low, her breath loud in her ears. With her Mors raised, she darted to the other side of the bullet craft. Nothing. She swung around, frantic, muscles tense. For all she knew, she was a sitting target, easily in range.
She jumped at the screech of the loading bay doors. Eris and Nyx burst in.
“What are you doing?” Nyx asked.
“There’s someone in here.” Her voice was breathless and wavering. Back in the Snarl, they’d say she sounded lotic. “I saw him try to break into the bullet craft.”
Eris glanced around and hurried to Clo. Under her breath, she asked, “Where?”
Clo shook her head. “Dunno where he went. Didn’t see a hatch.”
“Shit,” Nyx swore. “I was afraid of this. Someone from the manifest was missing when we threw the corpses out of the airlock. Ariadne just gave the ship an infrared scan a few minutes ago, but we didn’t see anything. We’d assumed they’d stayed on Myndalia.”
“Who was missing?” Clo asked.
Nyx looked wary. “The copilot.”
Fluming great.
Eris straightened, in full general mode. “Clo, get to the bridge. Let’s hyperjump out of here. After that, we’ll tear this place apart until we find the bastard. The last thing we need is someone here still under the Oracle’s influence. If he can’t contact the Tholosians, he’ll try to kill us to take back the ship.”
“Someone better come with me,” Clo said. “I’ve heard enough horror stories to know that the loner always dies first.”
“I’ll come,” Nyx said.
Granted, Nyx was plenty fearsome herself. “Good.” Clo glanced at Asteria. “Eris, can you shift our ship away from the doors and anchor it better? Then I can help Ariadne prep for a hyperjump.”
Eris nodded once, sharp. “Right.”
Eris following orders without question gave Clo a little thrum of power. Even if it was only to feign allyship in front of the other women, Clo would take it.
As Clo and Nyx headed for the do
or, lights flashed throughout the bay. Metal screeched, the overhead lamps flickering as more power went to the shields.
Clo grabbed her Mors from its holster. “Ariadne,” she called, knowing the girl would hear through the comm system. “What is that?”
“Someone’s opening the exterior hatch.” Ariadne’s breathless voice echoed through the loading bay. “Get out of the loading bay. Now!”
The three women raced for the door.
Behind them, the metal gears of the heavy hatchway whined. That damned gate only needed to open a fraction and the oxygen would be sucked from the room. Seconds later, they’d be blasted out into space. Dead. Gone. All because some brainwashed muskeg in an ugly spacesuit wanted to return to his corrupt Empire.
Nyx reached the bay door first and bashed the button. She swore, low and urgent as the sluggish backup generators failed to respond. She hit the button a few more times.
“Move,” Clo said, elbowing her way in.
She grabbed the powered crowbar still clipped to her tool belt and jammed it into the door. With a grunt, Clo heaved. The metal door only moved an inch. Not wasting any time, Eris wrapped her fingers around the crowbar to add leverage. Nyx slammed the button again, and between the force and that godsdamned generator waking up, the door finally, finally opened.
They all dove through. Nyx twisted to close the door and it slammed shut with a heavy, metallic bang.
Too close for comfort, Clo heard the roar of air leaving the loading bay. “My gods,” she murmured, patting herself. “We almost died. I almost died. That fluming berm almost killed us.”
“Get up,” Eris said shortly, pushing to her feet. She leaned against the door to peer into the porthole. “Oh, son of a bitch.”
They crowded around the window of the door. Both Asteria and Zelus’s bullet crafts were gone, the loading bay empty. The engines on smaller ships were so silent, they hadn’t even heard them over the main hum of Zelus.
Clo gaped. “He’s stolen my bogging ship!”
Ariadne’s voice sounded through the speakers. “I can’t tell if he’s in the bullet craft or the other ship from here.”