The Stars Wait Not

by Anne Wheeler

  She took a breath and nodded. That was something, at least. It meant this would happen just as Kresten had said. They’d mark her with the imperial crest. To not be tarnished over and over with the dreaded circles that would declare her a Shadow Force prisoner—that meant something. If they decided against executing her, they would never allow Kresten to keep her now, but perhaps the emperor would send her back to Prince Vidar. It had been a personal hell just a few days before, but now it was something to pray for.

  “Good. Then we’ll begin.”

  Ryllis closed her eyes. The antiseptic was cold. The whirr of a machine began somewhere behind her head, and she jerked her head up.

  “Strap her down if she won’t stay still,” a new voice said with more irritation than she thought was warranted. “You should have known better, Ivar.”

  “Don’t. I said I wouldn’t fight this,” she whispered. “I have no reason to.”

  “Ryllis.” It was Kresten’s voice this time, but as desperate as she was to see him, to indulge in his reassurance, she was afraid to move. If she laid there and did nothing but breathe and think, they wouldn’t restrain her. “Let them do it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to—” His voice cracked. “It will help. I swear.”

  Some panicked part of her remembered he’d been through the same thing. That was, perhaps, more frightening than anything else. He knew. He knew and was afraid for her. What she’d go through and what she’d say.

  Hands held her down as she struggled to breathe, and they didn’t feel anything like Kresten’s gentle ones. She closed her eyes, desperate for escape.

  “Time?” Dahl asked someone she couldn’t see. “Beginning now.”

  The needle hit her skin, and she flinched into the bed. It dragged across her collarbone, and she had the immediate thought this wouldn’t be so bad. Not like Kresten had told her. It burned, yes, as anyone would expect, but it wasn’t so bad. She could handle this.

  “Do not touch her, or you’ll be removed,” Dahl said sharply. She was afraid to look at who he was talking to. “You know that will cause unwanted interference.”

  Fingers stopped just short of hers, close enough she could feel a breeze. Ryllis wanted to reach out and grab them, but Kresten needed to stay. It was the only thing that would make this better. She just didn’t know if she wanted him to stay for her or for himself.

  “Injecting nanobiotes.”

  Her heart began to flutter, a commotion echoed in beeping of the leads attached to her chest. That was why it hadn’t hurt before. They’d only now started. She tried to swivel toward Dahl, even though he’d ordered her to be still. She found she couldn’t move her head, but with one last moment of conscious thought, she met his eyes. They were still the same watery blue she’d noticed earlier, but the water was turning to ice. She should have tried to find Kresten one last time instead, should have—

  The sudden pain took her breath away.

  Only it wasn’t pain like she’d ever experienced. This was agony that twisted inside her every cell, starting from a point on her shoulder and radiating throughout her entire body. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure her heart was still beating, either, and she couldn’t hear the machine any longer.

  She was dead. No one could live through this. No one—

  A strange jerking feeling crept through her legs, and she felt her entire body begin to convulse.

  “Stop!” Ryllis screamed the word over and over as she shook. No one listened. Maybe they couldn’t hear her. She screamed louder, and an incessant beep in the background drilled into her skull. “Kresten.” She barely heard herself that time. “Stop them.”

  He didn’t rescue her that time, either, and the pain took on a new quality. Where it had been a sharp dagger to start, now it was an inferno scorching her from the inside out. She tried to pull away, only to be stopped by something that might as well have been steel.

  After what had to have been a year, the pain settled to a dull ache. Her vision was still blurry, and the room was a haze of brilliant white, but she could breathe again. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat, but a rhythmic beep from some machine or another on her right reassured her.

  Someone moved beside her.

  “She’s ready. It’s time.”

  Dahl.

  His hand fell against her new mark, and though she was sure he hadn’t struck her, it felt like his entire weight had landed on one tiny part of her body.

  And then—

  She lunged against the restraints once more. A scream echoed, and the smallest part of her brain that she still controlled told her it was hers.

  Dahl’s hand was reaching inside of her, like he had entered through the tattoo and was hunting and searching through her nerves, squeezing through the tiniest of spaces, stalking his way through her body to her mind. Almost like she’d felt crawling through the passageway to hide in the cavern.

  The memory was calming. Any second now, he’d locate her mind, and the pressure would cease, just like the cave had opened around her, allowing her to breathe again. It couldn’t hurt this badly forever, or the telepath wouldn’t be able to discern any thoughts outside of pain. In a flash, the uncomfortable feeling disappeared like she’d predicted, and an immense pressure filled her head—then was gone. Emptiness, tinged with a presence she couldn’t identify, flowed all around her.

  Does it still hurt?

  She gasped out loud at Dahl’s voice.

  I’m sorry. That’s usually a shock. There was a pause, like he was thinking. Everything you’re feeling will settle down soon. When I’m done, if you’ve been telling me the truth, you’ll be allowed anesthesia.

  Pain meds sounded wonderful. Like a dream.

  A faint chuckle echoed through her head. They do, don’t they? Just focus on that, and you’ll get through this.

  She’d already forgotten he could hear everything she called to mind. Just get this over with and let him go. Quickly. What do I need to do?

  Relax. Don’t fight. Try not to think about anything specific. Right now, I don’t care what your deliberate thoughts are.

  Right now? Will you want to know them later?

  Perhaps. Eventually.

  The white ceiling blurred again. Tired. She was so tired.

  That’s perfect. Just like that.

  She felt herself jerk from the easy slumber. I can’t relax if you keep talking. Just do what you need to do and get out of my brain.

  Another soft chuckle. It wasn’t an unpleasant sound. Dahl was infinitely more pleasant as a disembodied telepath than a man.

  That’s unkind. Not all of us like people. Stare at the ceiling again.

  And she did. Her eyes, just like the rest of her body, grew heavy. She could picture herself lying on the gurney, limp and unresponsive, eyes open but unfocused. Closing them would be better. The way she looked must be upsetting to Kresten, and—

  I already know about him. You don’t need to hide what you feel for him. But you’re making this difficult. I don’t care to know details.

  The softness of Kresten’s lips flew into the forefront of her consciousness, and a loud sigh filled her head.

  I’m sorry.

  She wasn’t, but she tried to force blankness into her mind again. Dahl’s presence fluttered against it, like butterflies in a spring garden, and the feeling was somehow calming, the trickle of a creek over her feet. Her muscles became weighted; her already dulled senses became as featureless as the room, unable to determine cold from hot, pain from contentment, horror from delight.

  You really didn’t have anything to do with the attack on the transport building in Therus, did you?

  She jerked from the unnatural relaxation at Dahl’s surprise.

  I told them that on Cereth. For almost a dozen lunar cycles. It’s not my problem if they didn’t believe me.

  He was quiet for a moment. Your father was convinced of it.

  He was convinced of nothing. The painful answer she’d been ignoring for so long w
asn’t worth hiding anymore. He and his new wife were tired of me being around, and who ignores the accusations of a regional governor?

  No one, I suppose. The feathery feeling returned as Dahl probed around her memories. I’m still surprised¸ he said, a little kinder this time.

  Yes, fine. You’re surprised I’m not a terrorist. Can we get on with it?

  You’re still hiding something. What? What is Lieutenant Westermark involved in?

  Before she could stop it, a vision of Kresten’s mountain garden flew into her mind. Roses bloomed; bulbs sprouted. She showed Dahl a vision of her walking through the garden, brushing her fingers against the wintered trees, smiling at the pines in the distance. Behind her, in an exaggerated motion that he surely couldn’t help but notice, flowers erupted from the path under her feet.

  Dahl’s presence faded as the vines curled over the garden wall, then seemed to flinch.

  You’re not as innocent as you led me to believe. He sounded shocked.

  I told you I wasn’t completely innocent. You chose not to listen. But I swear to you, Kresten didn’t know. I hid it from him—from everyone. It was spring when he brought me here. He didn’t think anything of this garden coming to life.

  You know your power is illegal in the Star Realm.

  I know. The weight off her shoulders was immeasurable, nonetheless. It was over, and being over was a relief, no matter what came next. There was nothing I could do about it. It is what it is.

  You should have turned yourself in when you first became aware of these powers. His earlier gentleness took on a tinge of reprimand. It was your obligation as a Star Realm subject, regardless of whatever consequences you feared.

  To what? Strange how even a thought could be bitter. Death? The Star Realm asks too much of us. Eradication is one thing, but no one would voluntarily surrender to that. I was a child when I learned of my gift.

  Not necessarily death. Depending on the extent of your power, a suppression chip and imprisonment is an alternative. The court will decide what punishment your crimes warrant.

  That might as well be death.

  I’m sorry, Dahl said, and it sounded like he was. We see it as mercy. He grew quiet. But it may be too late for that mercy now. I will have to write up an official report so the court can make their decision on your fate. And no, before you ask, I have no control over what happens. I can only report what you’re capable of and what you’ve done, then wait, same as you. I’ll look around one more time to ensure the report is complete, and if you don’t fight me, this can be over quickly.

  Then do it.

  She didn’t mean to struggle, but she couldn’t relax any longer. She didn’t fight Dahl as he skimmed over her recent memories of the prince’s estate and plunged into her thoughts of Kresten’s gardens and time on Cereth, but the fear made it nearly impossible to focus on nothing. Over and over, visions of living out her life in a cage assaulted her, but Dahl waited patiently until each wave of dread subsided, only to dive back in every time her heart and thoughts returned to normal. By the time the sensation of fluttering wings departed for the last time, she could have sworn she felt his fatigue.

  You have what you need? she asked.

  Yes. Enough. Dahl’s regret was palpable.

  And you’ll let Kresten go now? Her life was over; his was the only thing that mattered anymore.

  Yes. She could hear his guilt, and she was glad for it. He’ll be released to the infirmary to recover. Is there anything you want me to tell him?

  Tell him? Why can’t I?

  We don’t believe in tormenting people with waiting. Either you wake up in a cell with a chip implanted, or you don’t wake up at all. Now sleep. It’ll make things easier.

  With that, Dahl disappeared the way he’d come, twisting aimlessly through her nerves toward the imperial crest, leaving her alone with her terror. Her eyes grew heavy again, and she wanted to fight, but the blackness Dahl had ordered approached her from all sides, shadowy and cold. When it seized her, thousands of hands clawing and grabbing at her skin, she tried to scream, but even that was effort she couldn’t manage. She took one last conscious breath before the cloud carried her away to nothingness.

  Chapter Twenty

  The back of his neck stung where they’d cut out the chip. Kresten had declined the medic’s offer of pain relief, tired of needles and drugs and everything else. It would subside. The wound and other various injuries that plagued him after his time in the prison were mere annoyances compared to the pain in his heart.

  They knew about Ryllis.

  When he thought of her, his chest threatened to cave in on itself. He didn’t know why she’d done it. He’d have done it for her—had done it for her—but it wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. She was supposed to be free, trying to make her way back to Cereth, and he should be in that cell, suffering, yes, but with the knowledge that she was safe.

  Instead she was unconscious a few rooms over, and if the court had their way, she would be dead before she ever graced him with that smile again. Or imprisoned somewhere far away, her gift taken from her against her will, condemned to a fate she dreaded because she’d had the misfortune of inheriting something harmless and yet forbidden by the Star Realm.

  It wasn’t fair.

  But the laws didn’t have to be fair. They didn’t have to make sense. They simply were, and he’d never given them a second thought before now. His own gift was allowed twofold, both by virtue of his birth and chosen career, and he knew of no one else besides the telepaths in Shadow Force, permitted to live free because of their service to the Star Realm. Didn’t Dahl understand how differently his own life could have gone?

  Kresten closed his eyes. He just had to make it out of here, back to the mountains, and then he could fall apart, alone. It didn’t seem possible that he’d make it. The lodge was so far, and he was in too much pain to push things with Dahl—his release from the infirmary, transport back to his house, whatever other logistics were needed. His heart was too broken to focus on anything but Ryllis, and he couldn’t make himself forget about her, he couldn’t make things better for her.

  He could say goodbye, though. With the greatest effort he could muster, he swung his legs to the floor and tested his balance. The floor began to spin immediately, driven by too many days lying on a floor, having them dakk with his vestibular system. His bruised liver didn’t help matters, and the medic would tie him and down sedate him if she saw him up and about like this, but she could dakk herself, too. They all could.

  The wall made acceptable support, and he clung to it as he made his way out of his room and towards Ryllis’s, finding sore muscles he hadn’t known existed. It took forever, and he was half afraid they’d have removed her by the time he made it there, but she lay where he’d left her, ashen and cold. For a moment, he could only stand in the doorway and stare at what they’d done. Perhaps remembering her as she’d been on the mountain, the sun on her face and her hand in his, was best.

  No. He’d promised he’d stay with her until the end, and he’d meant it. If they imprisoned her, he would be on the shuttle that took her to a dungeon on some out-of-the-way, quarantined asteroid, and if they decided on death, he’d be holding her hand as she slipped away. Even if she wouldn’t know he was there with her. He collapsed on the stool by the bed, gasping for air, and brushed his fingers against hers. They were like ice, and all he wanted to do was warm her.

  “You should be in bed,” a voice called from the corridor outside.

  Kresten couldn’t force his body to turn at Dahl’s not-quite command. “I should be next to her.”

  “I can’t allow this.”

  “Can’t allow what?” Kresten asked sharply. “I’ve been exonerated, and I’m doing nothing but holding her hand.”

  “I understand you’re upset. But you’ll get over it. We can give you some demanding assignments, let you try telepathic questioning again when you tell me you’re up to it. It’ll take your mind off things.�
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  Kresten didn’t reply, and behind him, Dahl cleared his throat. “You didn’t honestly think you had a future with her, did you?” he asked. “A Cerethian, a prisoner, a slave. Your family—”

  “You know nothing about my family. They have limited say in my actions, including my father. I would have married her regardless of his opinion on the matter—of which you have no idea of, I might add.”

  “You’re letting your feelings get the best of you, Lieutenant.”

  Kresten swung around at that, grimacing at the bruise over his ribs. How dare Dahl reduce what he was feeling to mere feelings?

  “And feelings are something you’ll never understand, aren’t they?”

  Dahl pressed his lips together. Kresten turned back to Ryllis, wanting nothing more than for her to wake up. She looked peaceful, and the medical equipment agreed, but it was a lie. He squeezed her hand, but her eyes were pressed closed, forced into slumber by Dahl’s telepathic command and the drugs that kept her unconscious until the court returned their verdict.

  “I love you,” he said, bringing her soft hand to his mouth. It was cold—the medics didn’t believe their doomed patient was worth wasting a blanket on. “I always will. And I will never forget you.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and Kresten shot Dahl a look over his shoulder.

  Dahl frowned at a monitor. “Stats normal. She’s dreaming.”

  A flame of hope welled up in Kresten’s chest. If she woke up, he’d have a chance to say goodbye before the medics ran in and sedated her further. He gripped her fingers tighter and pressed them against his cheek, but the optimistic feeling died almost as soon as it’d come. He shouldn’t have touched her like that. He shouldn’t have wished for her to wake up. There was a reason she was unconscious—it was the one kindness the Fleet allowed prisoners like her.

  “She shouldn’t be dreaming. She shouldn’t be thinking or feeling anything.” Before he could think better of it, he lashed out. “You couldn’t even put her to sleep correctly.”