Chase’s swearing evolved into dry heaving. “I heard something. I know I did,” Chase said.
“Just normal ship sounds,” Amanda said. “I don’t need Danny.”
“You might. Tray has an idea for a course change,” Sky said, pushing Tray into the room and dragging Chase out. Chase cradled his injured hand to his chest, his eyes darting back and forth. He screamed in surprise when Danny flew out of the engine room. Danny exchanged a look with Sky and Sky motioned him to get to the bridge. Chase was embarrassed enough.
“Do you need pain meds?” Sky checked, combing her fingers through Chase’s thick, dark hair. His skin felt cold, but his cheeks were red.
“No. Yes. Sleep aid hit a little faster than I thought,” he said.
“You took a sleep aid, then went to the bridge to run a simulation?” Sky chuckled.
“I thought the view would calm me. I didn’t think it’d make me thirsty. I squeezed the canteen, then my hand hurt, then I was back on Terrana and the Guard was crushing me again. I heard him. I heard his voice,” Chase rasped. “Like he’d teleported in right behind me.”
Sky gently pulled him down the stairs to the galley, picked up some water and snacks, then floated him to his room and tucked him into bed. It was normal to have flashbacks and nightmares after what he’d been through, and being in space didn’t make them immune to teleporting assassins.
“Want me to massage your hand?” she asked, twisting open the water bottle and holding it to his lips.
“You’re so tense, you’ll break my fingers,” he said, offering his hand anyway. “Maybe you should take a sleep aid and crawl into bed with me.”
Sky inhaled sharply, panicked by the notion. “I have to go.”
“Why? Because I offered sleep instead of sex?” he asked, mildly offended. “Seriously, Sky, for as many nights as we’ve shared a bed, how come we’ve never… shared a bed? Do you not sleep in beds?”
Sky smiled softly, trying to mask her heartache. He wanted a wife and a family. The kind of men Sky went for always did. Her heart raced, telling her to run. She couldn’t risk staying the night, or she’d be the asphyxiated corpse, and he’d be the one cursed by Spirit.
4
The soft thrum of Oriana’s main engine sounded different in space than it did in Aquia’s atmosphere. Douglas ‘Hawk’ Hwan had grown accustomed to hearing the engine fighting atmosphere, and feeling gravity keep him grounded to the deck plates. His stomach did constant somersaults in micro-g, and the feeling of butterflies intensified when he looked into the engine room.
“What did you do to my engine?” Captain Danny Matthews harped, blustering past Hawk and blocking the door. A bulky, six-foot-three man with caramel skin and eyes to match, Hawk had fostered a mild crush on Danny before this surly attitude emerged. Danny toed the line between gentle and malicious, but he cared and he wanted to be better. Hawk would have forgiven him for being upset about Chase getting hurt, but he’d been upset for weeks now, and Hawk was tired of getting snapped at.
“I didn’t do anything. I’m just watching it,” Hawk groused. His hybrid eyes showed him the soft glow of the moving energy inside the room, and even when he ‘closed’ those eyes, he seemed to know how all the pieces worked just by intuition. A few months back, his spirit eyes had been ripped out by another hybrid—one far more powerful than him. He thought he’d be blind forever, but his eyes were starting to heal. Spirit things always did seem to hold a piece of eternity in them.
“Can you see why it’s making that sound?” Danny asked.
“Only if you let me open it,” Hawk said.
Danny made a face and Hawk rolled his eyes.
“If you don’t trust me, why didn’t you kick me off the ship before we left Terrana,” Hawk grumbled, shifting to the right and looking into the adjacent engineering bay that housed the grav-drive. Rather than give the ship artificial gravity, Sky had rigged it to supplement their propulsion.
Danny moved to block that door, but he needn’t have bothered. Hawk’s experience on Terrana had taught him to fear artificial gravity sources. The gravity was generated by pulling spirit energy from another realm. In small doses, it could heal his spirit eyes, but in large doses, it could tear a hole in the universe. That was why Terrana was so dense for its size. Hawk didn’t know if it was an accident or just a feature of the universe. There were no other celestial bodies in the solar system as dense as Terrana because it had naturally occurring Confluence—gravity sources.
“I’m not attacking you personally—”
“Yes, you are. You’re attacking my ability, and that’s the same thing,” Hawk said. “I have flown this ship with my hybrid power alone. If you’re really worried about my ability to control it now, then you should have dumped all those Confluence stones you’re holding in the cargo bay.”
“I’m not dumping the cargo,” Danny laughed.
“Why? You’re not delivering it to anyone anymore. You left your client on Terrana,” Hawk said. The hidden potential in the dull crate of moon rocks had Hawk on edge.
“I might find someone,” he said defensively. “And Amanda wanted to experiment with the stone. She thought she might connect to Johann—that’s her friend who Disappeared.”
“You mean she wants to connect with that half-breed, Galen,” Hawk said, referring to the half-human, half-spirit who had held Amanda prisoner for ten years. “You trust her more than you trust me, and she only borrows power. She could be borrowing mine right now, making that ping in the engine.”
“I think it’s worth exploring what we can do, now that we know about the Confluence,” Danny said. “It’s a connection to the spirit realm.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t have your spirit form ripped apart by one of those stones while a megalomaniac controlled your body and forced you to punch a hole between the realms,” Hawk shouted. “The Confluence is dangerous and evil. I want it off the ship!”
He jetted away from the engine room, feeling both guilty and betrayed. Entering the cargo bay, he made a beeline for the hold where the Confluence stones were stored.
The cargo bay was more open than the halls of the ship and there were fewer things to grab hold of, which made navigation difficult in micro-g. There were two little ships tethered down—Hawk’s glider on the right and the bullet-shaped Bobsled on the left, the ownership of which was anyone’s guess at this point. Sky claimed it was hers; Danny claimed it was his. Sky didn’t really care. When she was ready to run again, she would steal whatever was most convenient.
The cargo was stored on an interior wall relative to the little ships, tucked under and around the mid-deck stairs. Ripping the tethers off the largest of the boxes, Hawk shoved it toward the escape pod bay. There were three boxes in total, and there was at least one airlock that didn’t have a pod blocking it. He could use his hybrid power to trigger it so that no one on the bridge could stop him.
“Hawk, what in Zive’s name are you doing!” Danny hollered, intercepting the cargo box and tacking it to the nearest wall.
“I told you! I keep telling you! You’re not listening!” Hawk cried, his nostrils flaring. Launching off the floor, he plowed into Danny, and the two of them sailed into the back of the stairs. Their bodies lurched as Danny was yanked from his grasp. Before Hawk knew it, he was drifting through the middle of the bay, without enough momentum to get across. Amanda had Danny by the collar, and she snarled something at him that drew out a contrite expression. Then she launched toward Hawk, giving just enough of a push to get them to the Bobsled tether.
“You’re hurt,” she said, touching his face. She spoke Lanvarian, expecting him to have learned her language when she hadn’t bothered learning his.
“No thanks to you,” Hawk said, grappling his way to the nearest foothold.
“Wait!” she called.
“You have one on you, don’t you? A Confluence. I feel it,” he said, his body twitching with anxiety.
“I’ll put it away,” she promised.
Tray signed off the call with his son, a smile on his face, but a twinge of sadness in his heart. He talked to Hero every day for as long as his ex-wife allowed him, and he was growing slightly more confident in the hope that the two of them wouldn’t disappear off the face of the planet before he returned to Quin. It still broke his heart that they weren’t going straight home.
Saskia Serevi floated into the wardroom and sailed gracefully across the space, her hands landing on his shoulders. Her long, black braid kept going even after her body stopped. Shifting upside down, she lowered her face over his, leaving a trail of kisses from his forehead to his chin.
“Morning, baby,” she sighed, wrapping her body around his. He obliged her with a kiss, but he didn’t enjoy public affection. She would have torn off his clothes and made love to him right there in the wardroom if he’d let her. Already, her hands wandered under the hem of his shirt.
“Did Mikayla yell at you today?” Saskia asked, her hands resurfacing as she accepted that he wasn’t going to reciprocate.
“Never misses an opportunity,” Tray said, leaning his head against hers. “She’s just mad because Hero listens to me more than her. She wants me to be the one who nags him about schoolwork, which is fair.”
Mikayla had hidden Hero’s existence from Tray for six years. Her asking him to take on any parenting role was a huge step forward in his mind.
“It would be more fair if she let you live in the same city,” Saskia said. “Just tell the Captain you want to go to Quin. He’ll take you there before he keeps any promise to Hawk.”
Tray shook his head. “This detour was my idea. And I have this vain hope that by the time I do get back, Mikayla will be begging me to stay.”
“But will you be begging me?” Saskia teased, her tongue flicking across his lips. Tray closed his eyes, trying to savor the kiss. As much as he loved her, he expected her to disappear from his life when he stayed in Quin. He expected her to fly away with Danny. He expected everyone to leave him eventually.
“Saskia, I thought you were flying the ship,” Danny barked, coming from the bridge, looking annoyed. Tray jumped from the chair, disentangling himself from Saskia and smoothing the front of his clothes.
“Five minutes, sir,” Saskia said. She narrowed her eyes, blaming Danny for Tray’s prudishness. “No one brought me dinner.”
“I’ll get you something,” Tray said, eager for an excuse to break out of her overly affectionate embrace. She gave his hand a squeeze, her eyes encouraging him to talk to his brother. Having already been yelled at by his ex-wife, Tray wasn’t looking forward to another demoralizing family confrontation.
“Danny, I need to talk to you,” he said.
“I know. I’ve been snapping at everyone. I’m sorry,” Danny said, flying for the stairs and heading to the galley. “I didn’t mean to snap just now, but someone has to fly the ship.”
“Saskia knows her job,” Tray said.
“She seems to forget it when you’re around,” Danny said.
Tray opened his mouth, then shrank back. He didn’t know how to respond. Danny pursed his lips and pulled out a tea packet.
“Want some?” he asked apologetically.
Tray shrugged and shook his head.
“Is everything okay between you two?” Danny asked, taking a little more interest as the ritual of making tea calmed him.
“I guess,” Tray said, pulling out the ham-flavored protein block. Saskia needed a warm meal. “We weren’t really ready to share a room.”
He cringed at the confession, hoping Saskia wasn’t eavesdropping. Their relationship had started haphazardly while they were stranded in a dead city. It had halted abruptly when Tray was shot, and heated quickly while Saskia nursed him to health. But she’d come back to Oriana willingly. He hadn’t.
“There’s a spare bed in your old quarters,” Danny said.
“Chase’s quarters now. And that space was too small even for one,” Tray said. “I don’t want her to be mad.”
“You realize, if this thing goes south between you two, she’s keeping the ship,” he teased, taking a sip of tea.
“I think we should go back to Quin,” Tray said, quickly changing the subject. “We don’t know that the medicine in Cordova is better than what we have. We don’t even know that the dot we’re aiming for is Cordova.”
“I trust Sky,” Danny said.
“I’m not saying I don’t—”
“Last night, Quin wasn’t even an option. It was Cordova or Rocan,” Danny interrupted, his features hardening. “You wanted to find Cordova. You wanted to save Hawk’s people. Now you have doubts? We’re not window-shopping for achievements, Tray! There’s no magic formula that will make Mikayla give you Hero.”
Tray froze, his thoughts spiraling as his fear came into focus. Mikayla had never wanted Tray to learn about Hero. Tray suspected it was his fault—that he didn’t deserve to be near his son. He wanted to be a good father, but he couldn’t defend himself to Danny. Maybe it was better for Mikayla and Hero that he wasn’t around. Maybe instead of waiting for the others to grow tired of him and leave, he should do the leaving. He grabbed the half-finished plate of food and darted for the door.
“Tray, I didn’t mean it like that,” Danny said. “Tray!”
Tray froze and waited for his brother’s next order. His greatest fear was that he’d give up Danny for Hero and lose them both.
“When we hit atmosphere, you and Chase can take the Bobsled back to Quin,” Danny said. His voice sounded a million miles away. There was no solution that didn’t involve someone abandoning someone else. “Tray, say something. Do something. Give me the plate.”
He felt Danny’s hand on his back and cringed. Moments like this used to send him straight back to childhood, when his father would smack him for even a hint of disloyalty. When Danny yelled, Tray’s instinct was to submit. Obey. The plate floated above his hands and Danny moved it aside.
“Tray, I’m not suggesting we part ways forever. I will always come for you. Unless I’m the one tied up waiting for you to rescue me,” he said, forcing a half-hearted smile. “Do you want to take the Bobsled with Chase?”
“Chase can barely move his hand,” Tray said.
“Saskia could fly you. If your relationship can handle that kind of closeness,” Danny said.
“You could fly me home,” Tray suggested.
“Then who would captain the ship?” he asked.
Tray watched the slices of ham drift off of the plate. His brother wasn’t leaving this ship. Not for him. It made Tray feel trapped.
5
Corin’s fingers trembled as he worked the needle through the tiny bead on the garment he was creating. At this rate, he’d never finish the design, but he was determined to keep working until the end. Twenty-nine hours until Festival.
His stomach rumbled, sending an ache through his torso, making the bruises on his chest throb. Belgard’s wrath had not let up since Corin dosed him to escape the fire. He promised that this Festival, Corin would burn. There were three other guards at the Palace that got kicks in as well. They would corner him in the halls, force him to strip, and write slurs on him with Festival paint. One of them even accused him of being Questre and harboring his grandmother’s spirit. They said if he spoke out, they’d kill his nephew Bernie. And Corin believed their threats.
He’d tried sleeping in the textile mill, but once the dayworkers were gone, it was even easier for them to levy their torment. They’d pierced his skin with the needles, and he’d nearly lost his hand when Belgard shoved it into the embroidery machine. These daytime hours, sitting with his sewing guild, were the only hours he felt safe, but he was starved and exhausted, and it was getting harder to push through.
Twenty-nine hours left.
T
he front door opened, and Corin glanced up. He noticed Belgard first, even though the officer was behind the Magistrate. Magistrate Jeremiah Toulane, Corin’s handsome, athletic, almost universally loved father, stood in the doorway, his gem-studded robe glittering in the sunlight. He whispered to Belgard, but Corin couldn’t hear. The tables where his guild worked on handcrafts were acoustically shielded from the machines that filled the mill.
The roar of the textile machines seemed to have caught his father off guard. There were dozens of rollers spinning and transferring fabric, adding colors and prints. Then other machines whirred, sewing, embroidering, and finishing fabrics. The guild hand-stitched, beaded, and embroidered the more delicate and extravagant pieces. Corin ducked his head, and focused on his beading, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to steady his hand as long as Belgard loomed in the doorway.
The Magistrate hadn’t called ahead, and Corin considered that a personal insult. He was a Prince, and his father was treating him like a child, nosing around his mill. Corin shifted on the couch, checking to make sure his work clothes covered his bruises. He wore a diagonally striped, long-sleeved shirt and long pants to match. The red, orange, and blue design would have been considered loud on any other person, but it was one of Corin’s tamer pieces. He’d stopped wearing his good clothes because Belgard and the other officers took pleasure in soiling them.
His father strutted into the mill, leaving Belgard by the door.
“Prince,” Jeremiah greeted.
Corin gave him a nod, then his gaze flickered back to Belgard. With a heavy sigh, Corin set aside the garment he was working on, closed his box of beads, and rose from the chair. He picked up his robe from a nearby rack, and donned the ornate, shimmering garment. The beading and sequins looked like the scales of an alligator, and white, pointed pearls formed the teeth. The piece was intact, but Belgard had tainted it with the threat that he could throw Corin in the river and no one would care. Plenty of Fotri had ended their lives in the belly of a gator.
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 3