Here on the Outer Belt, they could move more freely. In theory. And Aly knew why: Nobody wanted to come this far to patrol a pile of sand-dust settlements, and the patrols that did come left as soon as possible.
A dwarf planet, Derkatz was a distant planetary oxygen pit stop infamous for its black market. So far, however, Aly and Vincent hadn’t had any luck finding oxygen. Or to get technical, they hadn’t had any luck buying it in any form. They’d just been chucked out of their third greenhouse by an enraged Derkatzian merchant who vowed to bite off Alyosha’s mouth and eat it, the kind of threat that would be common only in the Outer Belt.
As soon as they were outside, Aly pulled his goggles back onto his forehead and pawed his face mask off. He squinted toward the darkening horizon. Grains of sand whipped into his eyes.
“Pretty slick back there,” he said.
“Don’t even start.” Vin shook the sand out of his hair.
“No, for real. I’m impressed.” Aly slipped into his Kalusian accent and made a show of straightening out the front of his jumpsuit. It was the same as Vin’s and the same as every other humanoid on this rock, since it was the only thing that did a halfway decent job of keeping the sand out of your junk. It had a utility loop on the hip, where Vin had hung Aly’s hammer just to taunt him. “Tell me, Vincent, what’s your secret negotiation technique? To piss off literally every carbon-based life-form in the known universe?”
“Ten thousand is a rip-off and you know it.”
“We were negotiating. He would’ve gone lower if—”
“If what, Aly? If you stepped in and tickled his balls? I had it in there until you started talking. Maybe if you weren’t always trying to get people to like you—”
“Oh, so it’s like that?” Anger knifed its way up Aly’s spine. “So I was the one who screwed it up back there?”
“Calm down. I didn’t mean it like that.” Vin raised his palms in surrender. That was his game. Vin never meant it like that. “You’re supposed to be lying low, remember? You’re one flimsy particle mask and some murky-ass goggles away from being recognized as the universe’s most wanted murderer.”
But deep down, he wondered if it was possible the robodroids had swarmed because he’d found the royal escape pod. What if they’d arrived because someone heard Aly broadcasting his distress signal, and not because Vin had sent out a call? But he’d used his cube to send out the signal, and cube communications were supposed to be secure. Foolproof. Unhackable. And if that was the case, then Vin might be right—what if Seotra and his lackeys really could drop in and pay an unexpected visit to anyone’s cube? The question was too messed up to contemplate.
All he knew was that he had somehow become the fall guy. The UniForce had even raised the price on his head—claiming not only that he’d murdered the Princess but that he’d also kidnapped his beloved costar, Vincent Limam, for the probable purposes of extortion and negotiation.
Which was funny, because Aly would for sure negotiate to kick Vin to the other side of the universe right about now.
“Of all people, you should care about what’s at stake,” Vin said, sounding like one of the old missionaries in the church tents, all pucker-faced, like the taste of their words was sour. “Don’t you want to know why they picked you for the universe’s toilet paper?”
Aly’s mouth flooded with a bitter taste; wind whipped sand onto his tongue and between his teeth. Because he already knew. Of course he knew, deep down, even if he didn’t want to believe it.
Because he was Wraetan.
Because he’d tried to be something else.
“Don’t tell me what to care about.” Aly was shaking.
“You’re the one living in a fantasy land. Not me,” Vin said. His eyes flashed. “You’re so busy trying to be a Kalusian poster boy, you get on your knees for the people who robbed you—”
“I dare you to keep running your mouth . . .” It was bad enough that the UniForce had screwed him over, even though he’d smiled for the cameras and played their little game. But he couldn’t stand for Vin to say it, to know that Vin saw what Aly had tried for so long to conceal.
“Or what? Aly, I’m giving you the chance now to do something about it, to join a revolution—”
“Fuck your revolution,” Aly exploded. He leaned forward so his face was just inches apart from Vin’s. Alina and his ma were dead; everyone would die. Maybe they were looking down on him now, the way the Kalusians believed—shaking their heads about the mess down here. Or maybe it was like the Fontisians said, and it was Vodhan who’d built the world, and now he was pissed they’d ruined it. He imagined Vodhan throwing his hands up, peacing out, just disappearing to try again somewhere else.
“Don’t act like you know me. I sure as hell don’t know you. Liar.” Aly felt toxic. “You play revolutionary because you think it’s fun. Or maybe you just think you’re a hero. Why not? Everyone’s always told you that you’re a hero, right?” Shame and anger edged each other for space deep down in his gut. “It’s easy to be a hero when you’ve never faced anything, never fought anything, always had everything handed to you. It’s easy to fight when you’ve never tasted blood in your mouth—”
Vin hit him. Aly staggered backward, and his goggles flew off his face and spun on their strap halfway around his neck. For a second, Aly just stood there, stunned, while Vin watched him with no expression on his face—vague, almost curious, flexing and unflexing his fingers.
Then Aly tackled him. They went down into the sand, and plumes of grit came up in their eyes and mouths. Aly landed a punch directly on Vin’s nose and heard the crack. Blood was streaming into Vin’s mouth, and Vin was choking, and suddenly Aly pulled away, horrified and ashamed.
Then he realized Vin wasn’t choking. He was laughing.
“See?” he said, propping himself up on his elbow. His voice sounded thick. “Blood in my mouth. Happy now?”
Before Aly could apologize, the greenhouse door opened behind him. Instinctively, he turned around. He saw his mask and goggles scattered across the floor. On instinct, Aly’s hands flew up to try and cover his bare face.
“Because I’m feeling generous, I’ve decided to do half a crate for four thousand—” The Derkatzian merchant froze, both arms full of plants. He looked at Aly with his round black eyes and stuck his flat snout in the air. Pointy ears that had laid back flat, hidden in his fur, perked up. “Well, well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t the most wanted dusty in the universe.”
He lifted his hand toward his neck to access his cube, but Aly tackled him before he could transmit. The Derkatzian let out a garbled yell as they fell back and landed with a thud on the ground. He was wrapped in a filthy tunic like all the other locals, and his exposed fur was matted with sand. Aly gagged from the smell as he pinned the man down, grabbing hold of his wrists. Plants were scattered everywhere.
But the Derkatzian was a big guy, at least a foot on Aly and another seventy pounds. Vicious as hell, too—his kind was an evolution of the desert foxes that walked on their hind legs. He snapped and growled, managing to plant his foot and throw Aly off. Aly scrambled back toward him, kicking up sand as he lunged. He grabbed the furry ear and yanked it back so hard the Derkatzian yelped.
Meanwhile, Vin dived, and drove his elbow down on the guy’s stomach.
“Uhhhfff,” the Derkatzian groaned, crumpling on himself. Aly got him in a wrestling hold, and Vin pinned his arms to his side. But it wasn’t just his cube they needed to worry about; the Derkatzian threw his head back, called out a series of quick barks into the wind, and then began to howl.
“Taejis!” Vin said, and kicked him a second time. He yelped once and went quiet.
Vin’s eyes were wide as he scrambled to pick up the plants by his feet. In the distance, more Derkatzian howls rose up and intermingled with the shrieking winds. Aly had forgotten how much they could communicate with the t
one and frequency of their barks. “We have to go!”
They ran for the village; there was no other way to get back to the docks. They cut left at an alley to move toward an inner circle, where the shrieking of the wind died down. The central village in Derkatz was plotted as a series of concentric structures that kept each inner courtyard more protected from the sand and howling winds than the last.
They hurtled left, and right, and left again. The principal village had been a fort during the Great War—one way in, one way out. Finally, they ducked into the shelter of an alcove so that Aly could knot a handkerchief around his nose and mouth. Anywhere else he would’ve looked like he was going to rob someone. But here everyone wore bright fabric, the color of prayer flags, around their faces to keep out the sand.
“Take these,” Vin said, shoving the crate of plants in his direction. Aly hugged it to his chest, trying to orient himself, without a cube, to the look of the unfamiliar streets. “We need to split up. The Derkatzian probably said there were two of us.”
Aly nodded, hoping he’d be able to find his way back to the docks. Taejis. He had hardly been paying any attention when they’d walked the village earlier. He was always using his cube for things like this, on the fly. But how hard could it be?
“We’ll meet each other west of the docks, near the customs bureau. Stay calm, and don’t run unless you have to.”
They emerged from the alley.
“And remember, the Derkatzians can smell fear,” he added as he went left. “Be cool.”
Perfect parting advice. Aly went right, his heart thudding like an engine working double time. He dodged a man who barreled through, holding a chicken by the neck. Aly took his next left, backtracked when he hit a dead end, and almost mowed down a group of kids—humanoid and Derkatzian alike—who’d made a game of floating a ball on the wind. He swatted it as he passed, and it bounced against a wall, pinballing between surfaces as the children screamed happily. As he cleared the group, he saw two Derkatzians sniffing their way toward him. They’d gotten down on all fours, a position used only for hunting, and Aly could see the fox resemblance now more than ever. Except for their size, of course.
He shot down an alley, hoping they wouldn’t pick up his scent, then kept threading through: half circle, alley, back out again, up a staircase three steps at a time. He didn’t know if he was going the right way; he wasn’t used to navigating without his cube to tell him exactly where to go. A woman crouched low over a basket, and he pivoted around her. Gravity was slowing him down. He wasn’t used to it anymore; he felt like he was moving through soup.
He couldn’t be far from the docks now. But at his next turn, he caught a glimpse of black uniforms and shiny badges, and his heart nearly stopped. Tasinn. They were coming up the stairs. He ducked into an open doorway and pressed his back against the wall. What the hell were they doing here? Derkatz was neutral territory, and way too far for Kalusian guards to travel.
Get it together, he told himself.
Inside, there were rolled-up sleeping mats and a low table in the center of a sparse room. There was one window, and it was dark. Quiet. He could hear himself breathing. His legs burned. He was out of shape.
“Snatch-yah uptu?”
The voice was quiet, but Aly knew it was a question by the way the whole sentence tipped up like a seesaw. He looked around him. A little boy was squatting in a corner. It was as if he’d just formed out of the shadows.
Aly shook his head, not understanding. They spoke Kalusian here, but it had its own water-like quality, all the words fluid and rushed.
“Snatch-yah uptu?” the boy tried again, speaking very slowly as he mimed grabbing something with his hands.
Aly stared. “Snatch me up?” Something about the kid’s expression made his stomach drop. “Who would snatch me up?”
The boy shrugged. “Men they started coming last year. Used to give us candies, but no more.” Aly could tell the boy was making an effort to speak slowly, in a way he’d understand. “The dahkta,” he started. Doctor. “He come to put up the solah panels and ended up stayin’ . . .”
Outside was a swell of voices—the Tasinn were close. The boy stood up and went toward the door. Aly nearly reached out a hand to stop him, but didn’t want to frighten the kid into yelling. He disappeared through the door and out of sight.
And now, outside, there was the sound of boots scuffling against the ground. The flimsy mask over Aly’s mouth was damp with his sweat. He could hear the Tasinn demand to know whether the boy had seen anyone running this direction. Aly held his breath. But the boy only responded with one word.
“Nyah.” Not here.
And then the sound of the boots retreated.
The boy returned and gestured for Aly to follow him to the window. He scrabbled up onto a crate and shoved the window open with his shoulder. “Shortcut.”
Aly stuck his head out and looked down. There was a wooden plank that stretched between the window a story below and the balcony across the way. There must’ve been a market under this level. It was more crowded than the other circles, and a few Derkatzians stalked the ground below. But Aly decided to take his chances with them rather than the Tasinn.
“Thank you,” he said, and moved the plants to the crook of his arm. Then Aly touched his own giant thumb to the center of the boy’s palm. It was a Wraetan tradition among family. It communicated too many big emotions that were impossible to translate—but it was a show of love and gratitude, and the closest phrase in Kalu might be something like my life in your hands. He, Vin, and Jeth had exchanged that same gesture the day they graduated boot camp. He’d had no other family apart from those two.
Vin was waiting for him now.
Whether or not the boy understood the meaning of Aly’s gesture, he nodded. One of those kids with an old soul, Aly thought. He lowered himself through the window, feet first, and landed lightly on the balcony.
When he turned back around, the boy had disappeared.
He went east and flew down the stairs, only to see it too late: a Tasinn arriving at the base of the staircase. Aly grabbed the banister and launched his weight over it. He landed on both his feet and stumbled forward on one knee, but he scrambled up and kept running, still keeping a tight hold on the crate of plants. A Derkatzian came out of nowhere, and with a low growl, he lunged. Aly sidestepped, and the fox flew past him. He heard the warning bark he let out.
The crowd split. People abandoned handcarts and baskets and went screaming for the streets. The Tasinn were made clumsy by their weaponry, but the Derkatzians were gaining ground, bounding across the market.
He was getting closer to where the crafts were docked. If he could just make it to the Tin Soldier . . .
Someone grabbed for him, yanked him into an alley, and slammed him against the wall. Vincent. He kept a hand on Aly’s chest, pinning him to the wall at arm’s length. The doorway was narrow and almost entirely concealed by a well-placed moonfruit cart. Two foxes flew past them. And after a couple of seconds, Aly swatted Vin’s hand down. Neither of them had been breathing.
“Where the hell have you been?” Vin asked.
“Had to take a detour,” he said, breathing hard. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there were Tasinn and foxes on my ass.”
“Right. You’re a badass,” Vin said. “Let’s move.”
They were no more than a quick sprint from the docks. Nearly a thousand souls, half of them humans in jumpsuits, worked the port—importing and exporting goods across moons and planets and asteroid colonies. Apparently traffic had tripled in the black market when Seotra had shut down Sibu’s ports after the assassination. Aly could see the Tin Soldier in the distance—docked between a flotsam of bigger and more expensive craft—small and battered and so familiar it pulled at Aly’s chest.
“We gotta make a run for it,” Vin said.
“Aren’t we already m
aking a run for it?”
They had to lean into the wind as they tore across the playa—their jumpsuits flapping, handkerchiefs to their mouths. Aly zipped his jumpsuit higher so that the plants would be safe. Without his goggles, he couldn’t keep the grit out of his eyes, and he focused on watching Vin trek in front of him in the sea of jumpsuits. They threaded through the crowd of Kalusians and Miseu, hoping they’d lost the Tasinn and Derkatzians behind them. As they gained on the docks, where they’d parked his pod, they also left behind the shelter from the wind. Every step that closed the gap felt harder than the last—like the world had tilted and now they were walking up a vertical line.
At the last second, Vin turned and seized Aly’s hand, dragging him for their last few steps. Together they fell out of the howling wind. By the time the Tasinn had enough sense to comb the port, they were already gone, vanished back into the darkness of deep space.
ELEVEN
RHIANNON
AN hour had passed, maybe two, since Rhee had been captured at her own memorial service. She had been just moments away from plunging the knife into Seotra. She recalled the surprised look on his face as he turned to see what the commotion was about. Rhee wondered if Seotra had recognized her.
Now she was being led by two silent guards down a pitch-dark corridor. She wanted to fight her way, but the adrenaline had drained her body, and her knees buckled as she walked. Rhee guessed she was underground by the damp smell, and by the muffled sound her voice made as she asked question after question—Who are you? Where are you taking me? How does it feel to serve a traitor?
As the guards brought Rhee to Seotra, they probably thought they had the advantage—simply because she was their prisoner.
But she was the one who’d spent half her life preparing for this moment.
Rhee stopped counting the turns, but squinted as light began to permeate the woven threads of the cloth covering her face. Natural light. They’d brought her above ground. Finally, they stopped, and a door opened before her. Rhee was pushed through a threshold as someone yanked off her hood.
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