Between Burning Worlds

by Jessica Brody

  “And we have a victor!” Saros shouted. “Thanks to the (questionably legal) help of Etienne, Chatine has captured the connecteur! Congratulations on your future linking.”

  WHAT?

  Chatine’s gaze shot up the ladder toward Saros, who winked knowingly at her. She turned and skewered Etienne with her eyes. “What is he talking about?”

  Etienne opened his mouth to speak, but it was Astra who answered. She suddenly appeared next to Chatine with a huge grin on her face. “Whoever catches the connecteur is the next one to get linked!”

  Chatine peered up at Etienne, her face still twisted with confusion. Etienne grinned sheepishly back at her. “Did I forget to mention that part?”

  She raised the connecteur, ready to toss it at Etienne’s head. Etienne held up his hands to defend himself. But Chatine was stopped by a commotion at the back of the fête. There were voices, followed by a few shrieks. Chatine froze, her pulse spiking as her thoughts immediately went to the worst possible scenario.

  Policier.

  Ministère.

  Roundups.

  She lowered the connecteur and turned to Etienne for an explanation, but he looked just as confused—and concerned—as she did.

  Then she heard a squeal of joy from below, and Chatine glanced down to see Astra taking off in the direction of the commotion.

  “Astra! Wait!” Chatine called out, but the little girl was already too far away to stop.

  “It’s Fabian and Gen!” Astra shouted with glee. “They’re back!”

  Chatine stood on tiptoes to try to see through the crowd that had begun to migrate in the direction of the commotion. Relief streamed through her when she saw that she was not surrounded by expressions of dread, but rather expressions of delight.

  “C’mon,” Etienne said, taking her hand once again. “You finally get to meet our other gridders.” As he guided her through the crowd, Chatine could just make out two people crouched down, their bodies covered with children who were all scrambling to get close to them. Chatine couldn’t even see their faces.

  “Did you find your children?” a small voice called out.

  “Why did you take so long?” said another.

  “We have a new gridder!” a third voice informed them. This one, Chatine recognized as Astra, who had squirmed her way through the crowd and now had her arms wrapped around a slender man’s neck. His face was still obscured by the throng of children. “Her name is Chatine!” Astra went on elatedly, “And she’s from Vallonay too!”

  “Chatine?” replied a voice with a curious ring. “Well, isn’t that a lovely name. Don’t you think that’s a lovely name, my dear Gen?”

  In that instant, at the sound of that voice, Chatine’s entire body froze. She was as cold as the coldest, loneliest night in the Terrain Perdu. She was made of nothing but ice and bones and fear.

  Then the other voice spoke. “A very lovely name, Fabian. She must be a very lovely girl.”

  “Oh, she is!” Astra replied giddily, oblivious to the frost in the air. The tense, pulsing energy that seemed to spread through the entire camp, rendering Chatine immobile. Speechless. Useless.

  The crowd finally parted, and Chatine stared numbly at the two people who had managed to seduce this entire camp. The two people whose reputations among the Défecteurs had reached the status of legendary. The two people she prayed she’d never have to see again.

  Their appearances were modified slightly. They’d changed their hair and clothes. She looked slimmer and he looked slightly heavier. And they were both considerably cleaner. But it was the eyes that gave them away. They still twinkled with that same wickedness—that same wretchedness—that Chatine had known her entire life.

  These were the people Chatine had spent the past ten years trying to escape. The people who had beaten her and stolen from her and used her over and over again.

  These were the people who had sold off her little brother to pay a debt.

  These were her parents.

  The connecteur slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

  - CHAPTER 48 - ALOUETTE

  OUTSIDE THE PORTHOLE WINDOW, THE moon of Adalisa glowed, vast and bright and blue. Its giant craters were obscured by a constant cycle of lunar dust storms, making its surface look strangely distorted and out of focus. And right now, that’s pretty much how everything felt to Alouette. The whole universe was out of alignment. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything felt off-kilter, off balance, like one stiff breeze could knock it all down. The Sols, the stars, every planet and every moon.

  Cerise had maneuvered the voyageur into Adalisa’s orbit, and they were now cowering behind the gigantic blue moon like the fugitives they were. She’d also sent out a series of microprobes as scouts, and the latest update reported that three more warships from the Albion Royal Space Fleet had joined the hunt. There were now half a dozen deadly crafts scouring the skies, searching for them. While back on Laterre, the general—who had undoubtedly learned of their escape by now—was certainly preparing his own ships to intercept them if they dared try to reenter Laterrian airspace.

  In short, they were trapped.

  And every minute that passed, every minute spent hiding behind this moon, brought Gabriel closer to death and the weapon closer to the general’s hands.

  Alouette tore her gaze from the window and focused on Gabriel. He’d been asleep for a few hours now. His chest was rising and falling so peacefully, if it weren’t for the swatch of bandages on his stomach, it would be impossible to tell he was even injured. His face was calm, his expression serene.

  Once Alouette had gotten the bleeding under control, they’d managed to move him here, to the infirmerie, where Alouette had found an assortment of rudimentary supplies. Nothing even close to what was required to perform any complex medical procedures. Apparently, whoever equipped this ship never anticipated its passengers getting shot by Albion guards. But Alouette had quickly managed to locate biosutures, bandages, and some médicaments which were, at least, helping Gabriel rest and keeping the infection at bay. But she knew they wouldn’t heal him. Everything she’d done to help him was just a temporary solution. If they couldn’t get him back to the Refuge …

  No. She wouldn’t even let her thoughts go there.

  Frustrated and fidgety, Alouette stood up and walked over to the monitor on the wall. She activated the microcams in the infirmerie, so she could see and hear Gabriel in case he woke up. Then she slipped through the door of the small cabin and navigated her way up to the flight bridge. It was dark apart from the flickering lights of the flight console, the blue glow of Adalisa through the curved windows, and the hologram flight map that still hovered above its pedestal in the center of the room. Her eyes skimmed across the twelve planets of the System Divine before finally settling on the ice-white sphere of Reichenstat.

  For the first time in weeks, Alouette was glad that Hugo Taureau, the only father she’d ever known, had left. She was relieved he wouldn’t be on Laterre to witness everything that was about to happen.

  She extended her hand toward the planet, until the tip of her index finger was submerged in the brilliant, bright light of the hologram.

  I hope you’re okay, she whispered into the silence of her mind.

  “Sols!” shouted a far-off voice, followed by a loud crash.

  Startled, Alouette snapped her gaze to the viewing lounge, just off the bridge. The room appeared to be empty. But a moment later, she heard a bang, and then another slew of curse words. Curious, she followed the noise until she reached the ship’s small galley and pulled to a halt in the doorway.

  Every cupboard and drawer had been opened. There were dishes, utensils, and boxes of food scattered everywhere. A metal tin lay on the floor, brown liquid splashed around it. And in the center of it all was Cerise, looking frenzied and agitated.

  “What are you doing?” Alouette was almost too afraid to ask.

  Cerise gave a sheepish little shrug. “Baking relaxes me.”
>
  Alouette’s brow arched. The girl looked anything but relaxed.

  “I just don’t know what to do with myself!” Cerise threw up her hands. “We’ve been hiding behind this moon for hours and those warships are still out there. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how to get around them so we can get the fric out of here, but I’ve got nothing. There’s no way out of here. We’re going to be stuck behind this blasted moon forever. Or at least until they find us or give up. But by then Gabriel will be dead and the general will have his weapon and he’ll send the update to the Skins and all of this will have been for nothing.” Cerise glanced around at the debris and sighed, her voice softening a little. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I came in here. I thought I’d make a gâteau. You know, for Gabriel when he wakes up. He said he’s never had gâteau before. But the ship doesn’t have all the ingredients and everything’s just … just …”

  “A mess?” Alouette speculated.

  Cerise collapsed against the counter. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Alouette had never seen Cerise look so daunted. So weighed down. She was usually the buoyant one of the group. But apparently, everyone had a limit, and Cerise had reached hers.

  “It’s a nice gesture,” Alouette offered. “I’m sure Gabriel will love it.”

  Her heart ached at the unspoken implication of her words.

  If he wakes up.

  Cerise gritted her teeth. “Yeah, well, he’s a total pain in my rump, and if I have to listen to him call me ‘Sparkles’ one more time I might throw myself out the escape hatch of the ship. But …” Her voice trailed off as her eyes misted. “But everyone deserves the chance to try gâteau.”

  Alouette cracked the tiniest of smiles. She’d never really taken the time to get to know Cerise. But as the slender, obsidian-haired girl stood there, with a hurricane of baking equipment scattered around her and tears pricking her eyes, Alouette couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for her.

  “Come on.” Alouette walked over and nudged Cerise with her elbow. “I’ll help you clean this up.” She grabbed a sponge from the sink and began to wipe down the counter. For a long time, Cerise just watched her, like Alouette was performing some unfamiliar ritual from another planet.

  “I actually find cleaning to be pretty calming.” Alouette wrung out the sponge. “I used to scrub the floors in the Refuge. That was one of my chores.”

  “The Refuge,” Cerise repeated. “That’s where you lived? With the Vangarde, right?”

  Alouette drew in a shaky breath. Her first instinct was to clam up, conceal the truth, keep the sisters’ secrets. But when she looked into Cerise’s eyes, she knew she could trust her. Over the past few days, she, Cerise, Gabriel, and Marcellus had become a group. A team. And for the first time since Alouette had left the Refuge, she’d felt like she was part of something again. Part of a family. She may not have known her real family—and she might never find the answers she was looking for about her mother—but she knew that the word “family” could be as wide and as all-encompassing as the universe itself. The sisters had taught her that.

  “Yes,” Alouette finally said. “I lived with them for twelve years. They pretty much raised me. I just didn’t know who they really were until recently. I called them sisters.”

  “And that’s how you know Dr. Collins’s daughter?” Cerise confirmed. “Denise?”

  Alouette nodded and ran her sponge across the countertop, feeling a deep ache pulse through her as she thought of Dr. Collins’s head slumped against the contrôleur of the aerocab. And the promise she’d made to him mere hours before he’d died.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  “She’s one of the only sisters left,” Alouette said. “I have to find out where the general is keeping them, but I don’t even know where to start looking.”

  Cerise leaned forward on the counter. “Well, who else might know where the general’s detention facility is?”

  Alouette shrugged. “Marcellus said, besides the general, only Inspecteur Limier knows. I guess he was the general’s primary interrogator. But according to Marcellus, Inspecteur Limier’s condition is—”

  “Unknown,” Cerise said with a nod. “Yeah. The last I heard, he was going into surgery. Subdural hematoma. Blood clot in the brain. It didn’t sound good. Apparently, his cyborg circuitry was pretty fried.”

  Alouette scrubbed harder against the countertop, trying to keep the guilt from creeping in. Was it possible that their only lead to Jacqui and Denise’s whereabouts was lost because of her finger on the trigger?

  “Do you …” Cerise started to ask something, but stopped herself, clearly wrestling with the right words. “Did Denise ever talk to you about …” She huffed and finally finished her sentence in a rush, as though afraid if she didn’t say it quickly, the words would float away from her. “Did she ever say anything about her decision to become a cyborg?”

  Alouette’s hand abruptly stopped on the countertop. She certainly wasn’t expecting Cerise to ask about that. “No. Hardly any of the sisters talked about their lives before the Refuge.”

  Cerise nodded, looking disappointed. “It’s just … I can’t stop thinking about what Dr. Collins said. How she joined the program so willingly. Why would she do that? What was she thinking?”

  Alouette shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Would you ever choose to be a cyborg?” Cerise pressed, and there was something about the look in her eyes that made Alouette certain this was not just an idle question. As though Cerise’s life depended on Alouette’s answer.

  Her grip around the sponge tightened. “No. I don’t think I would.”

  Something cold and chilling flashed over Cerise’s face. For a moment, it looked like she’d fallen into some kind of trance. And when she spoke next, her words were flat and distant. “My operation was supposed to be yesterday.”

  Alouette blinked, certain she’d misheard her. “What operation?”

  Still Cerise didn’t look at her. She kept her gaze straight ahead. “My cyborg operation.”

  The sponge fell from Alouette’s hand. “You mean, to become a cyborg?”

  “Papa signed me up for the program a few years ago, as soon as he started to notice that I had a knack with devices and networks. Of course, he had conveniently chosen not to have the procedure done on himself, which never seemed fair. But he expects me to become a technicien, and maybe even a directeur of a lab one day.”

  “Will you still be able to hack?”

  “Oh, I’ll be able to. I’ll be the best hacker in the world. I just … you know … won’t want to.” Cerise let out a bitter laugh. “How’s that for irony?”

  Alouette immediately understood. Cyborgs were programmed to be obedient. Wired for precision and loyalty. The operation would make Cerise even more talented than she already was, but it would steal away every thread of her rebellious spirit. Essentially the very thing that made Cerise … Cerise.

  “That’s what you meant when you said, ‘superficial is the safest thing to be,’ ” Alouette realized.

  “Yeah. I figured that if I could fool my father into thinking I wasn’t as smart as he thought, maybe he’d change his mind about the surgery. But I’m pretty sure he sees right through me.” She let out a heavy sigh. “What do you think prompted Denise to take out her circuitry?”

  “I don’t know,” Alouette repeated.

  Cerise shook her head, like she was trying to jolt herself awake. “Well, anyway, that’s the other reason I left Ledôme to track down Marcellus. I wanted to tell the Vangarde about the message I found, but also … I was running away.”

  “From the operation?”

  Cerise nodded. “I couldn’t stand to think of myself as one of them. A cyborg programmed to serve the Regime I despise. I was foolish enough to think I could change the planet. I thought I was destined for better things. Bigger things.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  But Cerise only ch
uckled. “Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just stupide. Papa always said I was too idealistic for my own good.” She glanced around the messy kitchen. “Maybe that’s true. I just wanted to help. I fancied myself a sympathizeur.”

  “You are a sympathizeur. And the world needs more of them.”

  Cerise scoffed. “Yeah, but what does that even mean? Nothing. Gabriel was right. My life is a joke. I don’t really do much besides sit around in my fancy manoir, trying to track down some elusive kill switch that probably doesn’t even exist. It probably is just a stupide conspiracy theory that I’ve wasted far too much of my life trying to prove right.”

  “No one has proven it wrong,” Alouette pointed out.

  Cerise scoffed. “I don’t know. Maybe the kill switch is just a metaphor for everything that’s wrong with me. Maybe I just want so badly to believe that there’s this mythical fantasy solution to the world’s problems, and if I just look hard enough, I’ll find it. Meanwhile, I’ve never done anything that might actually make a difference.”

  “Cerise!” Alouette said incredulously. “Look outside the window. You’re on a voyageur, hiding behind an Albion moon. You traveled to an enemy planet, came face-to-face with the System Divine’s most formidable soldiers, and you lived to tell about it. If that’s not doing something, I don’t know what it is.”

  For a moment, Cerise looked hopeful. Like she truly wanted to believe Alouette. Like she wanted to be the same person who had boarded this voyageur only a week ago. Confident. Optimistic. Bubbly. But a moment later, her gaze went glassy, and Alouette could swear she saw the hope seep right out of her. Then, in a vacant, haunted tone, Cerise said, “And yet we’re probably still all going to die out here.”

  Alouette felt the threat of Cerise’s words sink into her. Like they were creating their own gravity, pulling her to the ground. Was she right? Would they never find a way home?

  “Sometimes,” Alouette began, feeling her confidence falter, “it’s our intentions that mean more than the results.” It was the kind of thing Sister Jacqui would say, and it made her long for her favorite sister more than ever.