by Ali Cross
And then the lights pulse green.
Why can I not restrain myself when I am around her?
Why must I make this so complicated?
I am glad she left. Glad she forbade me see her again.
Perhaps now I can focus on my goal.
I see the Mind ship flash into existence off our starboard side. See the pods that disengage almost immediately and race toward the Capital.
What I don’t see is how Galen comes to be standing in the Con with a charge gun not unlike the one I used on him. The the Mind have developed some sort of transportation device fills me with more dread than the green light on the side of the gun.
Galen gives me a moment to understand he has bested me before he activates the gun and I am undone.
The Mind arrive while the last of the kitchen staff leave the ship. I’ve lived with them my entire life, yet not one said goodbye. Sher and Tam cast me guilty looks—like they knew they should thank me, should apologize, should honor me, but they can’t get past their own life-learned fear of me.
Minn lingers behind though, and when the last of them have gone, she stands in front of me. “I shouldn’t be leaving you.” She gestures toward Dillon. “We shouldn’t leave you.”
“Yes, you should. There can be no life with me—surely you know that.”
She glances at Dillon, and I suspect they disagree.
Minn steps forward. It’s awkward, but she pulls me into her arms. I hesitate a moment before placing my hands on her back. I close my eyes, let myself feel the warmth of another human being, the beauty of this contact so different from the wanting needs and mouths of the guards. Different from Nic’s passionate kiss that was so much more than human.
This is kindness. Maybe even love. My memory holds dusty samples to compare it to and yes, this is love. I let myself relax into Minn’s embrace and I squeeze her more tightly. “Thank you, Minn.” I hope she knows what I mean, how I feel. When her body trembles and she chokes on a sob in her throat, I have my answer.
I give one more squeeze, then step back, letting my arms drop to my side. I offer a wan smile that Minn reflects before she and Dillon turn and walk out of the hanger.
They have only just stepped outside when I order the doors closed and preparations made to return to space. I have an appointment to keep.
While I ride the transport up to the control room, I take stock of the situation.
The Mind have come with reinforcements—three of their ships orbit New Oregon, broadcasting peace to the ship-state. They are only here to take one girl into custody. An enemy of the Empire, they say.
They don’t tell them it is the daughter of their king, the Daughter of the West. They don’t tell them my execution awaits.
I step into the command center. I didn’t ask the ship for a report on the pods, to learn if Nic is gone—I hadn’t wanted to know. But the emptiness of the room puts my doubt to rest.
Nic has left. Just as I asked him to. Just as I said I wanted him to.
An acute sorrow slips through my veins like syrup, burning away all remaining hope, scouring any residue of love. Nicolai and I are the last hope of humanity, the last hope for each other—and he’s gone.
I pray Nic was wrong when he said my capture, my death, wouldn’t be enough to appease them. And then I wonder—is a life as a slave to inhuman masters better than death?
Or is it worse?
A request for boarding comes, and I grant it.
I am facing the door when they come for me. They are soldiers, each one a mirror of the other. Tall, wide and strong, wearing the white uniforms of the Mind contingency and masks that cover all but their eyes. Golden emblems emblazoned on their shoulders identify them as soldiers of the Elite. They hold no weapons in their hands, but they are present—waiting within their forearms, their palms, their fingertips. I recognize the potential for pain in every part of these androids—they’ve been crafted for violence and will carry out their orders with faultless precision.
But I have no intention of fighting them. I step forward and hold out my wrists.
Five soldiers come through—three take the transport down and two remain behind. A droid steps forward, producing gleaming cuffs that look flimsy and insignificant. The titanium steel clasps around my wrists with biting cold. Nanos ooze from the steel and slip beneath my skin, racing through my blood stream, shutting down the most intimate, secret parts of me.
As they’re stripped from me, I realize my ability to interact with the ship, with the walls, hasn’t been magic but science. One by one the Mind’s virus attacks tiny computers, nanos they quietly supply, present in my blood stream, in my mind, my brain, until I am left with only the human part of me—woefully inadequate and weak. I am resigned, waiting for the virus to strip away my doubt and fear, waiting for the Mind to claim me.
Then the soldier on my right raises his elbow and strikes the other in the nose. I stumble back as the errant soldier brutally attacks the other, shoving his fist into the man’s eye and yanking it out with wires clasped in his fingertips.
It takes less than ten seconds.
Now I stand in the presence of this . . . stranger . . . and I feel more fear than I ever have before. I want to run, to escape, but the nanos flooding my system have erased my ability to obey my own commands. Thankfully I can still speak.
“What are you doing? Who are you?”
The man steps forward while removing the mask that covers most of his face. “Sera,” he says—and I recognize him at once.
Archibald.
His mask removed, my name on his lips . . . images of memories and dreams flash before my eyes. His hands reach for me, and I remember those same hands as they lifted me onto his shoulders, onto his back.
“Piggyback, Sera.”
“It’s all right, Sera. It’s all right, M’Lady.”
He called me that once. He called me M’Lady that day. The day my parents died and Archibald abandoned me.
No, I think. The day he died. The day he pushed me down the garbage chute to save my life.
I understand it all a moment before I slump to the floor, unable to hold myself upright, a moment before everything goes black.
Here she stands, the one I have hoped for, the one who gives my entire existence meaning. I am . . . overjoyed. I reach for her a moment before her knees give way and she loses consciousness. The shackles should not have affected her in quite such a way but I cannot question it now. It won’t be long before my treason is discovered and we must be well-hidden by then.
“Forgive me, M’Lady,” I whisper as I pull her into my arms.
I wake on the floor of a control room—but I am no longer on the Capital. The stations are all manned by the uniform android models of a flight crew—the same type that sit at the helm of the Eastern Capital.
Galen crouches within my line of sight.
“Ah, I am so glad you are awake, my Lord.” He smiles, but it does nothing to soften the hungry glint in his eye.
“Imagine my surprise when I discovered the West harbored not one heir, but two.” He stands and clasps his hands together behind his back. Rocking forward onto the balls of his feet he says, “I thank you for making my job so much easier, for sparing your people so much unnecessary bloodshed.”
My mind screams for me to fight, to kill, but I school my features and body to remain impassive. Cool shackles bind my wrists, robbing me of the exaggerated abilities my nanotech allows me. For the moment, I am only a man.
But even as a man, I will end Galen, leader of the Mind.
“What, nothing to say for yourself, your Highness?” He watches me, curiosity shining in his eyes, but I remain silent. “No matter,” he says. “You know, you should have Bonded with her when you had the chance—perhaps then you might have made something of your little rebellion.”
He paces away from me while two soldier droids approach and yank me to my feet.
GGalen turns and offers me his first sincere expression—and his
fine features twist into an ugly mask. “I’m afraid now your Bonding will have to wait for death.” He nods to the droid on my right before exiting the Con.
The soldiers drag me to a transport while I struggle to understand what Galen said. His words ring like a gong in my mind, sending echoes through my bloodstream until I’m certain Galen just told me that Serantha is already dead.
I wake in the last place I ever expected to find myself again. As soon as my eyes open, I scrabble away from the android sitting next to the rotting pallet in my usual cell. I press my back against the cold, damp wall of the ship’s outer hull and urge my senses to return to me.
I feel foggy and weak, my brain befuddled and filled with more questions than answers, more doubt that confidence.
“Take these off!” My wrists burn inside the silver cuffs. No matter how hard I try I feel as though my nerves have been packed with foam.
“What’s going on? Why have you brought me here?” My words slur together and sound hollow and meaningless to my ears.
The android—Archibald—looks around and hangs his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “I am sorry, M’Lady. I thought it unwise to return to your quarters. I only wished to take you somewhere secret until your strength is renewed.”
He seems so disappointed, so sorry for his error that the wall of ice around my heart begins to melt. I let out a long sigh. “It’s okay. I’ve spent more time here than there, anyway. I’m probably more comfortable here.” I try to push myself up to sit straighter but my arms still feel like limp noodles. “How—” I shake my head. “I need these off.”
Archibald frowns. “I am sorry, M’Lady. As long as you wear them, you are nearly invisible to the Mind—certainly indiscernible from any other human. I am not willing to expose you just yet.”
Archibald slowly raises his eyes to mine and when our gazes meet, I gasp. He smiles slowly, almost shy. “Since you kissed Nicolai, you may never feel yourself again, for you will not be yourself again—as Nicolai’s symbiants are now a part of you as yours are his.”
My mind is a mass of confusion and Archibald’s expression conveys tenderness and regret that soften my heart.
I am sorry, Sera, it was my job to prepare you for your future, and instead, I have left you all alone.” He hangs his head and his sorrow, his sincerity, moves me so intensely that I lean forward. My fingers only barely graze the back of his hand, but it is enough.
Synapses, long unused, dusty and neglected, burst to life in my mind—only to be immediately dampened by the cuffs.
“Please,” I say. I can’t stand that he is here, that my awareness is on the verge of awakening, but I am still trapped—here in this prison where I’ve lived my whole life.
Archibald regards me with his sad, familiar eyes. When a slow smile creeps up his face I know I have won and grin, wild and free. He presses his index finger to a divot on the right manacle and the cuffs pop open.
I sigh as my senses come alive—and then I am caught in wave after wave of data.
The package of information Archibald prepared for me comes to life and I see everything, know everything. While my mind explodes with knowledge, I am vaguely aware of my body flopping back, and Archibald cradling my head.
Time runs backward in my mind. I see the moment Archibald caught me in his arms before I blacked out. See him receive programming for his position in the Mind’s navy. See him subjected to years of torture, sensory deprivation, and menial labor—all to extract the secret he never revealed. The secret of me.
I see the moment he erased my memories and severed my connection to my symbiants. The moment he sent me flying down the garbage chute. The moment, I thought, that he abandoned me.
But now I learn what really happened—what proved to be the only way Archibald could save me from the same fate as my parents.
“Ah,” Archibald breathes and I sense the tension leave his body. “The Mind have withdrawn.” He takes me by my shoulders and pulls me to him—the third embrace in so many days. But this one is welcome and familiar. I tuck my face into his neck and grip his jacket in my fists.
“Oh my Sera, my brave, brave girl.” His symbiants carry his love and concern to mine, leaving me no doubt of his sincerity.
We cling together for a long time while we share our histories—all that has transpired in the last nine years. Until we come to the events of the last days. Then Archibald pushes me back and captures my gaze in his.
“When you kissed Nicolai,” the filaments in his pupils spark rapidly as he searches my thoughts, “you saw the Blood Crown?” I feel the urgency in him, feel it spread to me. His excitement is disquieting and I withdraw from his touch. I tug my shift over my legs and wrap my arms around them.
“Nicolai . . .” I begin, then shake my head sharply. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Archibald closes the distance between us, but stops short of touching me. It doesn’t matter, I read everything he is thinking and feeling through his symbiants. He feels urgency and hope.
It is the hope that frightens me most.
“He is not the savior you think him to be,” I tell him. “He is a manipulative, arrogant, egotistical coward.”
Archibald watches me, unruffled. “As you believed me to be.”
There is unspoken chastisement in his words, a truth I do not wish to see.
“He wouldn’t even admit his true identity—he told me all about who I was without once mentioning that he had ever been my betrothed. And when the Mind arrived and Nic was gone—gone to them or to save himself—either way, he abandoned me.” Like everyone else. I don’t like the way the thought makes me feel helpless and childish. I know Archibald expects more of me—I expect more of myself.
“Sera.” Archibald places his hand on my cheek, wrapping his fingers over my ear and into my hair as I remember him doing when I was a child. With his touch comes comfort and love, a soothing balm. “Nicolai is no more a traitor than I am. No more a traitor than you.” He drops his hand and clasps it around my own in my lap.
“And he is not our savior, my child. You both are. Together.”
My exuberance disquiets her, but I find it difficult to contain. Not only have I regained my near-daughter, but the Blood Crown—the Blood Crown!—has been achieved. This is the pinnacle of our creation, the fulfillment of our Creator’s designs.
I found Serantha against every odd and the flame of hope burns bright in my heart. We will find Nicolai and complete the Blood Crown Bond.
“I always knew I didn’t belong, that there was something wrong with me.” Serantha says. She sits tucked in on herself, her back pressed against the damp wall. Beneath her dank garment I see the pale shadow of light flickering below her skin. So she has maintained her ability to communicate with the ship. She looks past me to the wall that closes off the cell.
“I was different from them and they all knew it. They hated me, hated that I could protect myself from the guards.” Her hand rises to her face where she traces an invisible line. “Mostly.
“I had to learn not to do things they couldn’t—like move fast or lift heavy things. I had to—” A dry sob forces itself out of her throat and she pauses to swallow and breathe. I long to comfort her, but she keeps me at a distance and I am unwilling to force her heart. “I had to learn to be like them, even though I didn’t want to be like them. I wanted to be like you—the man from my dreams. My father.”
She begins to cry and I understand what it costs her.
“Oh, Sera.” I scoot forward and pull her to me, cradling her against my chest like a little child. I stroke her hair and whisper soothing words of comfort. “I have never left you, never forgotten you. My symbiants were with you always. Even though we couldn’t Share with one another, I have loved you. I am so sorry you felt so alone.”
She is trembling and her skin is like ice beneath my hands. “Come—let’s get you warm.”
I stand and help her to her feet. Together we leave the cell that I now know had been the on
ly place she felt any semblance of safety. I push away my sorrow for her and the guilt that has riddled me all these years. Neither emotion will serve her now and that is what I must do.
Serve Serantha, my queen.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
No matter how many times I bang my head against the wall, I can’t awaken my nanos, can’t get myself out of this mess—can’t bring Serantha back.
My conscience whispers, if only I had opened myself to her, if only I had Bonded with her when we had the chance, maybe together we could have put an end to Galen and his genocide.
Instead I indulged my pride and it cost Serantha her life.
Cost me her life.
I thought her lost long ago, but now, with the memory of her lips on mine, the electrifying joy of her touch, our bond, her loss means so, so much more.
I bang my head against the wall and wish, in lieu of all the Gifts I possess, I could turn back time and kiss Serantha again.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I ask once we are in the transport, ascending.
“You don’t have to trust my word, M'Lady. See for yourself.” He nods toward the wall, but I hesitate. I’ve never flaunted my abilities—certainly not before anyone who understands what I’m doing. What if I do it wrong? What if I embarrass myself?
Archibald dons a kindly smile and touches my shoulder. His hand spreads warmth and reassurance through my veins. So I reach out, place my hand against the wall and ask the ship if we are alone. Satisfied there are no sentient beings aboard, I withdraw my hand and offer Archibald a wry grin.
He returns it but doesn’t keep it on his face for long. His symbiants convey his regret a breath before he says, “They will soon realize I failed to bring you to them and they will return. We must not be here when they do.”
“But Nicolai took the last pod—there is no way off-ship.”
Archibald frowns slightly, then cocks his head to the side. “No, he did not. Is it possible he disembarked with the others at New Oregon?”