by Maura Milan
Goner pushed his empty bowl forward. “Thanks for the meal. Now what favor do I owe you?”
Ia snorted. “How’d you know?”
“You always like to barter.”
Knowing that he was willing to work together, Ia gave him the details of her plan.
Goner tilted his head with mischief. “That’s genius. I hate you for thinking of it,” he joked, then stopped when he saw the hesitation in her eyes.
There was something else that had been bothering her since she’d left for Nowhere.
“Can you make a stop at Cajitore? There’s a refugee camp there.”
“Really? Your brother is going to unleash chaos unto the universe, and you want me to save some refugees?”
“There’s one more thing,” Ia said. She grabbed her helmet from her pack and handed it to him, the blood feather a rich red even in the dim. “I need you to tell them. Dead Space. The Fringe. Tell them Ia Cōcha is alive, and now’s the time to choose a side.”
After their talk, she walked Goner outside. He reached into his pack, took out a small black remote, and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” Ia asked.
“A gift for when you reach your destination,” he said with a wink. “That’s all I’ll say for now.”
She smirked at his response. Perhaps this would be the last time she would ever see him. She hadn’t forgotten their deal from months ago, and she was always good at following through.
“Your twin is on Oelophira. It’s a monastery in the far corner of the Jiyon Empire.”
His head tilted downward. “Are you sure?”
She pulled down her collar, revealing a scar on the tip of her shoulder. “Pretty sure.”
Goner smiled. “I’m glad she gave you trouble.”
“She reminds me of you in a lot of ways,” she said.
“How do you know that I’m not just going to take this info and run?” he asked.
Her answer was simple. “Because I know you’re better than that.”
Goner snorted. He laid out his hand before her, and she clasped it. A momentary truce. She looked up at him, and from this distance, she saw the rising sun capture the lavender in his eyes. They were beautiful in a way. Just for that fleeting moment.
Ia watched Goner as he took off into the early morning sky and then went to the back room to collect her things. She put on her assist suit, zipping it up and listening to it whir as it turned on. She looked up to see Kami standing in the doorway, watching her. There was something Ia had been wondering, ever since she found out where Kami had come from.
“Do you ever want to go home?” Ia asked.
Kami chuckled, motioning to the paint peeling off the walls. “And leave this paradise?”
“You know, my father left me when I was young. I think he wanted to go back.” Ia looked off in the distance. A sea of memories flooded toward her. Her father’s skin, like gritty sand. The rough calluses on his hands. His old chair, with the creases and molds of his body still in the leather after he was gone.
“There was part of me that thought you’d be him,” Ia admitted. Sadness curled into her like a familiar beast. It happened whenever she thought of him, of all the times he let her down. And now, it was like he’d done it all over again by not being the person Ia thought she’d find. All this time she wanted to forget him, but perhaps it was her, not Einn, who really needed to find him, who wanted answers. Who wanted to believe that he was still out there somewhere.
“Sorry to disappoint.” Kami took in Ia’s expression, then pressed her lips together in thought. “I’m not your father, but I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen stars born and seen them die. Empires rise and crumble. There are bonds that stand the test of time, and there are precious homes that turn to dust.”
Ia raised a cautious eyebrow. “That sounds kinda sad, Kami.”
“Not at all.” A knowing smile settled on Kami’s lips. “All of that is just scenery to a long and winding path. One day you’ll understand.” She shoved a cylindrical thermos into Ia’s hands. Ia unscrewed the lid, unleashing the fragrant aroma of broth. “For the road,” Kami said. “You’ll need the strength.” There was a separate container filled with vegetables and Kami’s special wormhole noodles for Ia to add in when she was ready to feast.
“Thank you,” Ia said, and she meant it.
They walked to the entrance of the restaurant. Ia ducked her head past the white flaps that hung above the doorframe. Outside, the horizon had turned pink with the oncoming dawn, while above, gray clouds lay thick in the sky.
“It looks like it’s going to rain today,” Kami said.
Ia turned to face the clouds. She had been preparing for the storm long enough. Her brother was as fast and unpredictable as lightning.
Bring it. Bring the storm.
She wasn’t going to get struck down, not this time.
“Where are you headed?” Kami asked.
Ia’s eyes simmered as the rising sun hit her cheeks. “Home.”
CHAPTER 50
KNIVES
KNIVES OPENED THE COCKPIT of his Kaiken and looked up at the dark cavern that used to be Aphelion’s flight deck. Eve jumped out of the copilot’s seat and climbed down to the ground.
The rest of the fleet landed behind him. It was a hodgepodge of people, Queen Juo had explained, comprised of a handful of flyers who survived, whatever borg force they could reprogram for the fleet, and even guards who wanted to conscript. But the majority of the fighting force was cadets.
“Not bad,” Eve said as she looked around at the flight deck.
Not bad? The place was a wasteland, even worse than he remembered.
“Totally salvageable,” she explained. “I’ll get to work.”
He remembered that Myth was a hub made from a crumbling space station. Aphelion was in decent hands. “Do you know where the power is?”
“I do,” a voice called from behind. He heard the tip-tap of footsteps, and a woman stepped close enough for him to recognize—with a very familiar borg by her side.
“Who’s she?” Eve asked, her cheeks noticeably more flushed than a second before.
“A friend,” he said.
“Good to see you’re not dead,” Meneva said with a smile.
Suddenly, Eve was between them, with that same look she’d had on her face when she and Knives had first met each other on Myth. Lips pouted, her eyes on a target. This time that target was Meneva.
“Hi.” She leaned in flirtatiously. “I’m Eve.”
Aaron, who was standing at Meneva’s side, narrowed his eyes at her.
Looks like Aaron has some competition, Knives thought.
“Sir!” a high-pitched voice called. He looked over to see Angie Everett bounding toward him. Behind her were more familiar faces, including Ia’s old guard, Geoff, and Nero Sinoblancas, who he had to admit he was surprised to see.
Geoff, who had proper function of both his arms now, excitedly scanned the faces of everyone around them. “Where’s Ia?”
Knives shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Geoff’s expression deflated. Ever the fanboy, Knives remembered.
“But you know Ia,” Knives said. “Wherever she is, she’s fighting.”
Geoff beamed.
Knives hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to say it. To remind himself as well. There was still no word from her. But Knives didn’t want to think about it. There was a long list of things for them to do.
Eve disappeared with Meneva and Angie to attempt to get the power and the communications systems up, leaving Knives in the company of someone he’d never expected to patrol the grounds with.
“You don’t want to catch up with your cousin?” Knives asked Vetty, giving him an easy reason to excuse himself. He knew that the Sinoblancases might have a lot to talk about. Juo had brought news of Kilio Sinoblancas’s death, and Knives wasn’t exactly sure how that was affecting Vetty.
“No need to,” Vetty replied. “I haven’t be
en part of the family for years now. Nor do I care about the company’s current state of flux.”
Knives jutted his chin over at Nero. “Seems like he doesn’t either, based on the fact that he’s here and not there.”
Vetty stared at his cousin while toeing the ground awkwardly.
Knives was well acquainted with the feeling of wanting to avoid family and the quiet pain that came with grief.
“Well, come on,” Knives said. “Let’s check out the jets.”
The models were a mix of training and combat vessels. Knives had grown up among these models. Judging by the way Vetty studied them, he had, too.
“Most of these need a tune-up,” Vetty said.
“You cool with doing all that?”
Vetty wheeled over an engineering station. He grabbed a soldering tool and scorched out a Sino Corp seal hidden underneath the wing of a nearby jet. “I am now.”
Knives snorted as he walked away, because he knew exactly how Vetty felt. Perhaps Eve was right. They could be friends once this war was over, he thought. That is, if they both survived.
CHAPTER 51
BRINN
NIRVANA WAS QUIETER than usual. Einn had all of his people scouring the galaxies for Ia. There was an elite team still stationed on the base in case they needed to defend themselves against an attack—or worse, to fight for their lives if Ia came for them. Which was entirely possible.
Brinn wondered how Ia had survived after that day at Rigel K. So much had changed since then. The Commonwealth was fractured. With the head executives of Sino Corp dead, the company was at a standstill and on the verge of dissolving. The universe had changed. But most of all, so had Brinn. She was far from the good model Citizen that she used to be.
And what about Ia? Was she the same as always? Brash, opinionated.
Loyal.
Compassionate.
Brinn quickened her pace, trying to do away with her questions. But no matter how fast she walked, they followed. If they met again, would Ia be disappointed in her?
She forced her heart to reharden. It didn’t matter what Ia thought. Brinn’s decisions were her own. That was what freedom was. She could choose to do whatever she wanted, to be whatever she wanted to be.
But then why did she feel like she was spiraling out of control?
Perhaps it was because she had as many questions when it came to Penance. The gate was supposed to be her steady ground, the work she did to prevent her mind from falling apart. To keep all those emotions at bay. The anger. The grief.
And now there was doubt.
Einn had already retrieved the core from Aphelion, and Brinn had a crew of engineers swapping in the new power source, but it was everything else that made her worry.
She hadn’t been getting much sleep, not since the day of the peace treaty, so she was always in the lab. That night, she went straight for the isolation chamber, where the bridge had torn open several days ago. For a moment, her experiment had worked, and she’d felt her heart thunder inside her chest. It was everything she’d ever wanted.
Then that thing had come through.
She had no idea what it was, but she still remembered the look of it. She didn’t even need a holo replay to remind her of those nightmarish tentacles reaching out from the dark depths to drag any poor soul into the abyss.
But Brinn needed to get inside the quarantined room to make sure everything was still in working order. In full sterilization gear, she opened the clear enviro seal door to the isolation chamber. All meters were on, to gauge if there was anything dangerous and potentially invasive in her close vicinity. Her sensors didn’t detect any foreign pathogens. The radiation levels were low, so she flipped off her mask. A quick yet thorough investigation showed nothing left of whatever had come through. The only sign she could see was the black residue it had left behind.
Taking a metal prod from her pack, she knelt down and poked at the slimy mass. It was a gel of some sort, with thick enough viscosity to adhere to the end of the prod when she took it away. She looked at the string of goop as it elongated with the pull of gravity. As she neared, she thought she saw something glimmer on the surface. She angled her head, checking her surroundings. It could have been a reflection of the lights overhead, she convinced herself. But when she turned, it happened again.
She leaned in to get a better look. The surface of the sample wasn’t smooth like she had previously thought. It was barely detectable, but at this distance, she could see it. Small, thin spines covered the gel’s surface, and as she grew close, it bristled.
It was alive.
She gasped and pulled back, but the dark mass lashed toward her. She saw a swipe of black as it attached to her hand, quickly bleeding through the thick fabric of her glove until it hit her skin.
Brinn scrambled back against the wall, staring down at the black mass covering her hand. It pulsed and grew and ate, spreading from one finger to the next, the pain causing her vision to go red.
She had to stop it before it spread farther.
Her eyes darted around the lab until she finally saw what she needed. A laser blade, meant for clean, precise cuts.
She held it at the base of her hand and took a deep breath.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she guided the blade as it cut through flesh, then bone. She stood up within moments, her other hand now lying unattached on the ground as the black matter dissolved it like acid.
She ran out of the room, slammed the door sensor with her elbow, and activated another flush sequence to get rid of what was left of the contamination.
Steadying herself against the glass, she looked down at the bloody stump at the end of her arm, pulsing like a beacon for its lost limb. It was a piece of Brinn that would never return. Like her brother, her parents. Just like the foolish ideas and dreams that used to be a part of her. And now, she was a fragment of a person.
Because she was Tawny, she could start the healing process, but instead Brinn stared at the raw flesh, the sliced-off bone, the tattered veins and nerves.
Goner’s words echoed through her ears. I see it. A sliver of something deep inside you.
That bright and shiny hope.
Brinn gritted her teeth through the pain.
Goner was wrong.
She wasn’t ready to heal herself.
Not quite yet.
CHAPTER 52
KNIVES
KNIVES WAS THE LAST to turn in. He wanted to make sure everyone was safe before he could try to relax in his own bed. The following day would be a long one. They had to plan their next moves. Everyone would look to him for decisions, and even now, he wasn’t certain what they would be.
He walked through the hallways, staring into the dark. The power wasn’t fully up, and like before, Meneva was having problems getting the grid to stabilize. Because when they had gotten there, the core was gone. Stolen. Not an easy task for some random scavenger, he noted.
He reached into his pocket and took out Bastian’s pen. He twisted off the cap and pressed down on the activation crystal. A series of lights came together before him, zigzagging until he stared at the hologram that came within. A little bit of its luminescence breached through the darkness.
“Hello, Knives,” Bastian said, his voice deep and raspy like Knives remembered it. “How may I assist you?”
“Just needed a little bit of your light,” Knives said.
Bastian’s expression remained neutral. Blank.
Knives had to remind himself that this thing was a Monitor, a holographic AI, comprised of data Bastian programmed into it. It didn’t have emotions or memories. It didn’t remember the advice the real Bastian gave him, the jokes they shared.
But still, it felt nice to talk to him.
Perhaps it was because for months Knives hadn’t been able to talk to anyone. About the feelings trapped inside him. The guilt he felt for leaving his squadron that day. He could have commed for someone to go after Einn’s ship; he didn’t have to do it himself. He replay
ed the moment over and over in his mind, trying to persuade himself that he couldn’t have done anything to change his squadron’s fate.
Every day he asked himself why he deserted them. To go after Einn, yes.
But there were other, more selfish reasons.
He wanted to live.
Yet for months, he hadn’t felt like he was alive.
“Do you remember this place?” Knives asked, trying to will his thoughts in another direction.
“Aphelion Academy, founding establishment of the Royal Star Force. Notable graduates include Korr Nema, Jilo Triss, Raykonne Ang. Its current student body is overseen by Bastian Weathers, headmaster.”
Knives sighed. “Not anymore.”
“Then please update my data. Who is the current headmaster of Aphelion Academy?”
“Well,” Knives said. “I supposed that would be me. But trust me, it’s not like I wanted it. My father made me do it.”
“Why did you not want this position?”
That was simple. “Because my father wanted it for me.”
“And why is that wrong?”
“No one likes having decisions made for them. Trust me, it wasn’t my life goal to be headmaster of a Royal Star Force Academy.”
“Then what is your life goal?”
The question made Knives pause. He rarely thought about it. Maybe because that was the exact question he was always running from. He reflected on the big decisions he had made in his life: stepping away from his first colonization campaign, retreating back through the wormhole on Calvinal.
“To protect myself…” he said.
He kept people at a distance, especially since Marnie. And Ia, well, he had never truly told her how he felt. If he said it out loud, told the universe there was someone he loved, he knew that it would take her away.
He looked up at Bastian’s face, still staring blankly back at him. “That’s the closest thing to an answer I could get. I’m not like you, though. I don’t have a specific goal.”