by Laura Lam
Clo shoved away from the door and sprinted as fast as her leg would allow down the hall back to the command center, the footsteps of the others echoing behind her. “He’ll be in Asteria, definitely. It has the supplies. The bullet craft is a diversion.”
“Should I fire at him?”
Clo paused. Don’t, she wanted to say. Try something else. Not Asteria. Not my ship.
It wasn’t just some stupid hunk of metal she’d pieced together. It was the only thing she had left of Briggs. She knew every wire, every nick on its nose, every twist of its corridors. She could point out each part that they had painstakingly added, and the purpose they all served. That part for speed. That part for emergencies. That part for luck.
Eris caught up to Clo, and a flicker of shock registered in her features. Clo didn’t want to explain. How could she explain to a princess who was raised never to care for anyone? Who saw everyone and everything as disposable? A tool to be used or destroyed.
Clo swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “Fire,” she said on an exhale, her voice breaking. “Kill the bastard.”
She ran through a corridor that was not hers. Zelus was too big, too sprawling, too Tholosian. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t home.
The ship shuddered as it fired.
She reached the command center. Ariadne was on her tiptoes, hands curled around the controls, tense. Rhea hovered behind her, resting her hands comfortingly on the smaller girl’s shoulders.
“Asteria’s shields are down fifty percent, but they’re holding,” Ariadne said. “We need to hurry before he jumps.”
Of course the shields were holding; Clo and Briggs had added the tech themselves. “He can’t jump; the ship needs to rest from chasing Zelus,” Clo said. “Let me do this.”
Ariadne slid out of the way.
After Asteria, the controls of Zelus felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
Clo shut her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, Briggs,” Clo whispered, and fired thrice. The turrets on the bottom of the ship powered up, and the ship shuddered as the projectiles released.
Asteria jumped. The blasts hit nothing; they zoomed out into the dark expanse of the galaxy.
The five women stared at the empty space where the ship had been. If the weapons had been just that much faster, Clo would have seen the hull of her ship glow with damage before that bright blast of kinetic and nuclear energy flared blue, leaving nothing but a dark husk behind.
Clo’s favorite ship had disappeared into a bogging wormhole.
Clo sputtered. “He shouldn’t have been able to— He just—” She made a frustrated noise and blasted the drifting bullet craft in frustration. It gave a tiny flash, and then it darkened.
“He might not have made it to the other side,” Rhea whispered from beside Clo.
The other woman’s voice was soothing. Clo didn’t want it. She was fluming furious, and now they had to run because that bastard had probably alerted the nearest outpost.
With her ship.
Her godsdamned ship.
Clo rubbed the back of a hand against her eyes, blinking back tears. She shifted her hands on the controls, flipping switches. This was going to be rough. “Everyone buckle in and hold on.” She couldn’t keep the roughness from her voice. “We need to get the flame out of here before he can signal our coordinates.”
“And if he left a tracker in the jump drive?” Ariadne said as she strapped herself into one of the chairs.
“I checked for them, found one and destroyed it, but I’ll jump twice more in quick succession, just in case.” She started mapping out the coordinates. Her hands shook, trying to do everything perfectly but quickly. “Get ready.”
Clo turned on the hyperdrive. Zelus quivered. Time itself seemed to pause, and then the pinpoints of stars shifted from white to blue, then violet, then disappeared to ultraviolet. The hazy blue of cosmic rays came into view, then sharpened to white in the center. Clo let out her breath. She loved this feeling, jumping lightyears, bending time and space. It felt like magic, like she took the power of the seven gods for herself.
The ship slowed, stilled. Before them was the quiet of space. Clo let her heart rate calm before she started the whole process again. Up there, without true gravity and atmosphere, she felt no star sickness. There was only the joy of slipping through the void, of doing something that humans were not meant to do. To conquer the stars.
They jumped again, and Clo closed her eyes. She took her hands off the controls, just for a moment, to open her arms wide.
15.
ERIS
Present day
“Silt.” Clo’s Snarl swear was barely a whisper, but Eris heard it as loud as a Morsfire. “Silt, silt, silt.”
Eris unbuckled herself from her chair, glancing at the other women huddled across the deck, whispering among themselves. They seemed distracted enough not to cause trouble. For now.
“What is it?” she asked, stepping up beside Clo.
Clo gave a small shake of her head. “We might be in deep mud. I don’t know yet.” Clo had been quiet for so long as she raced the ship through space, but she was on edge again. “There’s a call coming through the command deck. No identifier.”
Damn. Eris had started to relax—they had passed outposts without incident for hours—every part of her tensed on high alert.
If the pilot managed to make it through his jump in Asteria alive, he might have been able to hail a Tholosian ship by now. The Oracle would be hunting for Zelus. As long as they were in Tholosian space, they weren’t out of danger. Ariadne had put up a block for scanners, but Eris didn’t know the girl’s skills well enough to trust them.
“Can you track the signal?” Eris asked Clo.
“No.” Clo pressed her lips together in frustration. “It’s blocked. Could it be Nova? You contacted headquarters, right?”
“Hours ago,” Eris said softly. “I’m not sure it went through. I didn’t get a response.” That wasn’t exactly uncommon; Nova was constantly barraged by dust storms. She worried her lip. They’d have to pick up; they had no choice. If it was a Tholosian ship, an ignored call would alert the Oracle. “Answer it.”
Clo looked at Eris sharply. “You’re sure?”
Eris’s hand crept to her blaster. She was subordinate, just another piece of the spy network, but aboard this ship, she was leader. A general of a small group of women who depended on her to survive.
She would not fail them.
“I’m sure.” As Eris reached for the headset, she put her other hand on Clo’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance she’d used back when they were friends. “I’ll handle it.”
Clo stiffened at Eris’s touch, then shrugged it off. “Fine.” Her voice was hard. She nodded once as the call went through.
Eris put on a false voice as she spoke into the headset’s microphone. “In Tholos’s name, this is Zelus.”
A familiar snort almost made Eris collapse with relief. Almost. “You’ve fucked up, haven’t you?” Kyla asked.
“We may have hit a small snag,” Eris said to Kyla.
Clo’s laugh was low.
Eris scowled at her.
“There are reports on Myndalia of several skirmishes, and videos of you and Clo have been put up all over the communication systems, Eris. It’s only a matter of time before the Oracle finds out you’ve commandeered that ship and puts out notice that a Tholosian craft of interest has been stolen, so I’m going to amend my statement to a monumental fuck-up.” She made a noise of derision. “Prepare the loading bay. I’m almost there and I’m going to dock. We’ll talk then.”
&nb
sp; Kyla hung up.
“So.” Eris removed the headset. “That went well.”
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Clo asked.
“Yep. Once Kyla boards, she’s going to ask where the crew went.” Eris tipped her head back and heaved a sigh. “This is a mess.”
“We made a mess,” Clo said. “But the mission could have been salvaged. These three kind of made it worse.”
Eris glanced back at the other women. The little girl—Ariadne—was animatedly discussing something, waving her hands around for emphasis. She elbowed Nyx, who reluctantly smiled back. Had Eris ever been that happy? She’d had moments of laughter—small, stolen ones with Xander. When she forgot about who they were, and that she was supposed to kill him. When she took his firewolf figurine out of its permanent place in her pocket and remembered someone in the universe cared about her. That was happiness, of a sort, too.
And she’d had them with Clo, before their last mission. Nights staring out at the sands of Nova. Alcohol to soothe the guilt.
Her friendships had a history of not ending well.
“They were scared,” Eris murmured. “Running isn’t a decision made lightly. Fear makes you do desperate things.”
Clo gave her a sharp glance. “How would you know? Don’t they train it out of you?”
“No. No, they didn’t.” She ignored the first part of the question.
A beep of an oncoming ship requesting to board sounded. The screen showed Kyla’s craft anchoring itself to the loading bay. “Let her in. Let’s get this over with.”
Clo flipped the switches to open the shaft doors. “Done. It’ll take her a few minutes to dock.” She pointed her chin at the strangers. “What about them?”
Eris studied the three with a calculating, narrowed gaze. “The little girl and the courtesan seem fine. The soldier? Thinking about killing us.”
Clo made a face.
“You know I’m right.” Eris lifted a shoulder. “Let Kyla handle them.”
As if sensing they were being discussed, the women all looked over. Eris didn’t change her expression. Let them try and kill her. They’d just be three more in a very, very long line of corpses. The God of Death would only receive more offerings from His favorite subject.
“Just to let you know,” Rhea called, “I have freakishly good hearing.”
“Great!” Clo called back. She turned back to Eris.
Clo’s head reared back and she looked angry enough to hit Eris.
Eris crossed her arms.
Before Eris could respond, Nyx snapped, “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”
Eris and Clo startled as Nyx strode across the command center, the other two women at her heels. The soldier had her eyes narrowed. “You two,” she said, gesturing with a finger. “You stare at each other in silence longer than any people I’ve ever seen outside of an interrogation. What the fuck?”
Ariadne gasped in delight. “Oh! Oh oh oh! I know!” she clapped her hands. “You’re using the Pathos, right? Oh my gods, this is so exciting.”
“Uhhh,” Clo said, glancing at Eris in panic.
Ariadne came closer and peered around at the top of Clo’s skull. Clo pulled back with an offended noise.
“Ohhh, your incision is so tiny. I wish I could see the device. It’s my favorite design. Took me ages to get it right. I can’t wait to run more testing on my new beta model.”
“Your what?” Clo echoed.
The walls shuddered as Kyla’s ship fully anchored to the docking bay. Eris released a soft swear. Great timing. Just great. “Hold that thought,” she said to Ariadne. “My superior from Nova will want answers.”
Ariadne smiled serenely. “Okay.” When Nyx stepped forward, Ariadne put her hand out to stop the soldier. “It’s fine, Nyx. We’ll wait here.”
That kid was starting to freak Eris out.
Clo strode after Eris. Once they were out of earshot of the other women, she hissed, “What the flark?”
Eris shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Seriously. Who is that kid?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
But she planned to find out.
Their boots pounded across the metal walkway that led to the docking bay. Just down the long hallway, the doors opened, and Kyla strode through. Their commander was all business, as usual: hands clasped behind her back, a steely no-nonsense glint in her eye.
“Status update,” Kyla said when she reached Clo and Eris.
Clo crossed her arms. “We’re really confused, for a start.”
“Cloelia, I’m not in the mood. My current level of patience is hovering around zero. If it dips any lower, I will put you on septic duty at Nova and you can clean up everyone’s shit for the foreseeable future.” Kyla looked at Eris. “Eris, update.”
Eris barely suppressed a grimace. “I’ll start with the bad news.”
“Good approach. Improve my mood from there.”
“There are three women still on board Zelus. They claim to be refugees fleeing the Empire and they want the Novantae’s protection.” At Kyla’s intense expression, Eris added, “One of them murdered the entire crew, including the Legate.”
Kyla’s lips thinned. “So, what you’re telling me is that my original assessment was an understatement. This is an astronomical fuck-up.”
“Hey,” Clo said defensively. “This isn’t our fault. The crew was dead when we boarded.”
“You shouldn’t be on this ship. You—” Kyla inhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Who are they and why are they running?”
“I don’t know,” Eris said. She gestured for them to follow her back to the command center. “They’re each valuable to the Archon for their specific skills: military leader, engineer, courtesan. They claim they’ve planned for almost a year to escape and join the Novantae. Before we took them to Nova, we figured we’d call you.” She let Kyla through the door of the command center first. “As for the cargo you asked me to gain intel on, that’s just as much a mystery. You have to see it.”
The three women’s heads rose as they entered. Nyx’s face remained unchanged—still stuck in a permanent, threatening scowl. Rhea gave Kyla a considering once-over, and Ariadne smiled lopsidedly.
Kyla studied the women with the ruthless gaze Eris remembered well from when she first defected. She recalled the weight of it, the way Kyla seemed to look deep inside her soul and somehow knew whether she was telling the truth or a falsehood. Eris had learned to lie well under her father’s tutelage, but it was after she’d left the Empire that her skill blossomed. It was how she’d survived within the Novantae: to become so useful to the rebellion that they would never be tempted to replace her. A good-enough skill made a resistance fighter indispensable.
Still, Eris often wondered if Kyla was so good at detecting the truth that she saw right through her.
Rhea and Ariadne shifted uncomfortably under Kyla’s assessment. Nyx took a small step forward, easing her body in front of the other two, as if she were ready to fight to protect the
m. As if she were ready to kill.
Any lingering suspicion Eris had wavered. That sort of instinctive gesture wasn’t unfamiliar among Tholosian soldiers, but only with members of their own cohort—those who had been genetically engineered within the same group, with the same traits. Never for strangers—not unless the soldier was truly deprogrammed. That natural reflex to take a blast for them couldn’t be faked.
Kyla smoothed over her own surprise. “I’m Kyla,” she said. “Co-commander of the Novantae.”
At that, Ariadne perked up. “Kyla?”
Kyla’s expression didn’t change. “I hope so.”
Ariadne rushed over and thrust out her hand. “I’m Ariadne.”
Eris had never seen Kyla actually blanch before. “Holy shit,” Kyla exhaled. “The Ariadne?”
Ariadne laughed. “I hope so!”
Clo leaned closer to Eris. “I’m so confused.”
“Gods,” Kyla was still saying, even as she shook the other girl’s hand. “Gods. I had no idea you’d be so . . .”
“Amazing?” Ariadne asked, looking like she was damn well about to twirl.
“Young,” Kyla said bluntly.
Ariadne bristled. “I’m sixteen. Practically an adult.”
The kid looked younger than that. Kyla glanced at Clo and Eris. “For the last few years, Ariadne has been responsible for a lot of our intel and technological advances. She’s the only reason our spies have been able to get in and out of places without the Oracle detecting them.”
Gods. “You really did design Pathos.”
Ariadne tilted her head. “Of course! I’d never lie about my best invention.”
Eris was still skeptical. The Novantae’s tech and spy network had improved leaps and bounds over the last few years, but how could one person—a mere child, really—be responsible?
“Are you sure?” she asked Kyla. “Your tech person could be anyone.”
Ariadne curled a lip. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Kyla held out her hands, placating. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never revealed Ariadne’s name to anyone, not even Sher.” She softened. “Why did you run? Are you in danger?”