“I’m sorry, Kieran,” she whispered. “About everything.”
“You lost everything, too,” he managed to say.
“I’ve had more time to come to terms with it,” she said with a sad smile. “I knew when I got off Waverly’s escape shuttle all those months ago that I’d probably never see my family again.”
He studied her. She’d lowered her face so that her golden hair hid her profile, but he could see in her weighted posture that she felt the loss of their home, too. “Why didn’t you come back with Waverly?”
She sighed, long and heavy. “It’s not always easy…” She stopped to laugh at herself, shaking her head.
“What?”
“I don’t know how this will sound…”
“Go ahead,” he prodded.
“It’s not always easy…” She paused and raked her hair with her fingers. “Looking the way I do. I stand out. I always have. My hair, my eyes. People comment. And for someone shy like me, who doesn’t like to be noticed…”
Kieran remembered when Felicity was just starting to bloom into womanhood, Captain Jones had walked into their physics class to speak briefly with their teacher, and on his way out his eyes had wandered over Felicity in a way that Kieran hadn’t understood. She had drooped under his leer, hiding behind her hair, back bent to make herself small. In fact, she was sitting that same way now.
“On the Empyrean,” she said, looking at her hands, “I couldn’t always escape the looks, or…” She swallowed as though she felt sick. “Or the hands.”
He wanted to touch her then, a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but nothing could be more inappropriate.
“Here,” she said, straightening up as though throwing off the memories, “people still look, and they comment. But it doesn’t feel so…” She sucked in a breath and finally brought her eyes up to his. He could see her lashes were wet. “Predatory.”
“Felicity…”
“I always wondered why they chose me and not Waverly.”
“You can’t think like that,” he said to her, and this time he did touch her very briefly on the shoulder. “You’re not responsible for someone else being a pig.”
She smiled then. “You’re right. I know it. I just don’t know it all the way yet.”
He watched her, wishing he knew how far it had gone, how much she’d suffered, but she’d said as much as she wanted to and pushing her wouldn’t be fair. So he sat next to her, holding his cup of juice, looking out the porthole at the stars.
“I’m also supposed to extend an invitation,” she said. “The Pastor would like you to come visit her this morning, if you’re up to it.”
“Visit,” he said with an angry laugh.
“She claims it’s your choice,” Felicity said. “She told me your guards would escort you to her office.”
“Now?”
“I think so, yes,” Felicity said. She seemed as puzzled by the invitation as he was.
“Should I go?”
“What’s the saying?” She set her juice down and stood up. Was she leaving already? He stood, too. “Know your enemy.”
He nodded, confused.
“I’d better go,” she said as she backed away from him. “I’ve got lots of stops to make.”
“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t want her to leave. “Will you come back?”
She smiled, gave a single nod. “Sure.”
He walked her to the door and, as he leaned to open it for her, became aware of a light fragrance of crushed rose petals that permeated her hair. He breathed it in as she walked past him and out the door.
The guard standing outside his door jerked his head toward the elevator. “Ready?”
Kieran angrily followed the man to the elevator, staring with loathing at the bald spot on the back of his head. Would he always be surrounded by men with guns?
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Mather said, standing up from her desk chair as he hesitated outside her office.
With a half glance over his shoulder at the guard who brought him, Kieran stepped into the woman’s office and took the chair she offered. The guard stayed just outside the door, his hand on the butt of his gun. Mather smoothed her tunic with hands that fluttered over the fabric as though looking for a safe place to land. They finally settled, fingers woven, on the desk before her. She looks like a helpless grandmother, he thought, but that’s not what she is.
“Tea?” Before he could answer, she poured a steaming cup and handed it to him. “It must be nice to be with your mother again.”
“No,” he said, slicing a hand through the air in front of her nose. “Mom’s acting crazy, and I want to know what’s wrong with her.”
“I was worried about that.” Mather frowned with concern. “She suffered a rapid decompression and had some bleeding in the brain, in her frontal lobes. The doctors warned there might be lasting effects, but since she retained all of her higher functions, we thought she’d come through unscathed.”
Kieran studied her carefully, looking for some chink in her armor, but she met his eyes with what looked like real sympathy. He still might not believe it if he hadn’t seen it happen to her himself, that first day. He and his mother had both been in the shuttle bay when Mather’s crew had rigged the huge air-lock doors to open and decompress that part of the ship. Kieran had barely gotten away with his life and had watched as his mother struggled into a shuttle to escape the vacuum of space.
“So the damage will be permanent?” he asked, fighting tears.
“I’ll send a doctor to take a look at her,” Mather said gently. “Okay?”
Determined not to be grateful, Kieran looked out the porthole so he wouldn’t have to look at her. He could still see the Empyrean from here, though Mather must have turned the New Horizon because his home ship was much farther away now, its giant wound no longer bleeding gas and water vapor. So it was over. The Empyrean had no atmosphere. Those poor goats and sheep and fish. Poor chickens. Poor Arthur. Poor Sarek …
“You shouldn’t have sent that lunatic,” he said to Mather through gritted teeth. He remembered the man who destroyed his home—Jacob Pauley—the brutish size of him, his calloused hands, the simple expression in his piggish eyes.
“I didn’t send him. There was too much chaos during Waverly’s escape for me to come up with anything like a plan.”
“Then why was he contacting you?”
She picked up a pen and played with the cap, pulling it off, screwing it back on. “I believe he wanted to brag.”
“After the way you attacked us, why should I believe anything you say?”
“When I became Captain, the church elders pointed out that the nebula would be the only place we could hope to get near the Empyrean. What choices were left to us, Kieran? We were facing extinction! What would you have done?”
Kieran didn’t want to get sucked into this game.
“I want you to consider something.” She fingered the padded arm of her chair, picking at the fabric with an oval fingernail. “You were the leader of the Empyrean for a few short months, were you not?”
“Yes.” Kieran sighed. Why couldn’t he wake up from this nightmare?
“Did you never cross the line yourself?”
“You mean did I kill anyone?” he asked angrily.
“Tell any lies? Compromise your morals? To get yourself out of a tight spot?”
Kieran tried to be impervious to what she was saying, but his mind picked at the time he’d told his crew that Seth Ardvale had turned traitor and was working with the terrorist Jacob Pauley, a statement Kieran had known to be untrue. Was he really in a position to judge Anne Mather?
I never killed anyone, he reminded himself, but to get Mom back in one piece, with her brains right? I would. I’d kill this liar with my bare hands.
“What do you want?” he spat. He felt he was in a trap, but he couldn’t see the walls or feel the chains, as though Mather had somehow gotten him to lock himself in.
The
smile faded from her lips. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not making friends with me because you’re lonely. There’s some reason you’re cozying up to me.”
She pinched the end of her index finger as she considered him. “Okay, Kieran. The truth is, I’ve lost some credibility with my people. I’ve given them everything they wanted, but their enthusiasm for my leadership has faded.”
“They probably think you’re a hypocrite,” Kieran spat.
“Maybe I am a hypocrite. Does that satisfy you?” she snapped. “I’ve racked my brain trying to think of a way to unite our two crews. You’ve been a leader through dangerous times. You understand the need for a common purpose.” She bobbed her head at him, willing him to agree. “I believe you and I can work together to bring peace to our people. We both have a duty to make certain that our crews can live together safely. Can you agree to that?”
He didn’t want to work with this despicable woman. But was there any other way to protect the Empyrean crew? He nodded and made himself say, “I can agree in principle.”
“I want you to help me lead them to peace.” She appeared absolutely earnest.
The room was so quiet he heard the air moving through his nostrils as he studied her. “Do you expect me to believe that you’re offering me power on this vessel?”
“Not right away,” she said, a hand held up to slow him down. “As a start, for now, I’m offering you influence. Your influence will be unavoidable, actually.”
“What are you saying?”
“I want you to come to services this Sunday so I can introduce you to my congregation. Eventually, you could become a kind of junior pastor. And when I’m either ousted, or…” She waved a hand grimly. “You’ll be poised to take over as the pastor and hopefully captain of the New Horizon.”
For long moments all he could do was stare at her before he said, “Is this a joke?”
She smiled indulgently. “I assure you I’m serious.”
“I don’t see why you want me.”
“Don’t you see? After what Jacob Pauley and his wife did to your ship? The only way to incorporate your crew into ours is to give a representative from your vessel a leadership position here.”
Kieran started to shake his head. This was a trick. It had to be.
She placed her palm on the desk between them. “Kieran. Think about it. My generation is aging. Your parents’ generation has been at war, with a long list of grievances on both sides.” She pointed a finger at him urgently. “Your generation can give us a fresh start. And if you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many of you. Given how remarkably well you’ve done on the Empyrean, you’re the logical choice to take this crew forward when my time comes to step down.”
Kieran looked at Mather’s large desk, the way the intercom rested within a hand’s breadth of her seat, the artful tapestries hanging behind her. He’d never imagined himself in the Captain’s chair of the New Horizon. Was God working through Mather, trying to reach him? Had this been the plan all along to unite the two crews under one banner of leadership? He shied away from these ideas. This kind of thinking had gotten him in trouble before.
“We’ll have to play our cards right,” she was saying. “The church elders no longer believe that a faith-based government can peacefully lead a blended crew. They are actively working to minimize the political power of any pastor on this vessel.” She tented her fingers, staring at him over the steeple shapes of her hands. “I’m convinced they want to enforce atheism. We can’t let them destroy our faith.”
“Which would destroy you, too,” he pointed out.
She nodded, not even trying to hide her fear. “I want to use what’s left of my leadership to shape the path forward. Despite my mistakes, I believe I’m the only person who can.” Mather raised her eyebrows. “Will you join me?”
“If I don’t?”
“You and your crew will become a powerless minority.”
“Then I have no choice, do I?”
“Get used to it. The longer a leader is in power, the fewer choices we have. What do you say? Can we learn to work together?”
Kieran took in a long breath through his nose. He felt as though he were about to plunge off a cliff. “All right,” he said quietly, hating himself. “I’ll work with you.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking visibly relieved. Her com station beeped, and she read a short text from someone.
“I’ll have a guard escort you back,” she said, raising her finger, indicating for him to leave.
“I can find my own way, “Kieran said to test her.
She contrived a quick smile. “I’ll contact you later, then.”
“All right,” Kieran said and walked out the door, right past her guards and down the hallway. As he passed by Central Command, the door slid open, revealing, for just a moment, the empty Captain’s chair.
SPIES
On the Empyrean, Arthur Dietrich crouched, hidden inside a ventilation duct, watching the crew chief from the New Horizon do his work. Arthur was sweating profusely, so his glasses kept sliding down his nose. He pushed them up with his knuckle, afraid even the faint rustle of his shirt sleeve would give him away. He’d been hiding here for nearly a full day, his only protection a flimsy vent screen. He was thirsty and starving and his back hurt him horribly, but he had no idea what they would do to him if he were caught, so he stayed put.
For most of the morning, Central Command had been bustling with activity, but most of the crew had left for maintenance tasks in various parts of the ship. Right now there was only one man here—the crew chief named Chris. He sat at Arthur’s old post near the Captain’s chair, using Arthur’s old com screen.
“Pressure in the conifer bay is still dropping,” Chris was saying into his headset. Everything about the man was square shaped—his shoulders, his blockish head, his cropped haircut, his jawline, his big meaty hands. “There must be at least one more pinhole in the bulkhead.”
“My sensors aren’t picking it up,” said a woman over the com system. Her voice had the muffled quality of someone speaking from inside a OneMan.
“Okay, then, Marcy. I’ll need you to go outside and look for it from there.”
“There’s no air lock between here and outside. I’d have to go all the way around, through the orchards, and then up through the hatchery.”
“I know,” Chris said. “Some of those trees might be the last of their kind in the universe.”
“Thanks for the guilt trip, Chris.”
“Sure thing,” Chris rejoined before sitting back in his chair, rubbing his palms on his knees.
You’re thirsty, Arthur thought at him. You need to go to the bathroom! You need to leave! Go!
But Chris started flicking through options on his com screen before holding the mouthpiece to his chin. “Hello, there, Greg. You in yet?”
From the other end came what sounded like a group of children moaning. Arthur stifled a gasp. He thought he and Sarek had gotten all the children off the Empyrean! “Yeah, Chris,” a man answered, “we’re in.”
“How are they looking?”
“Skinny. We’ve got several goners, but most of them seem healthy enough.”
Arthur shoved his fist in his mouth to keep himself quiet.
“Can you make a path to the granaries? Let them graze in there?”
Arthur suppressed a sigh of relief. Those weren’t children crying; they were goats and sheep! He was surprised any of them were still alive.
“We’re already working on it. We’ve just got to fix a fist-size hole in the bulkhead to pressurize the corridor. Should take an hour or two.”
“Those animals don’t sound happy. Is the water system working?”
“By drips and drops, Chris. And someone left a whole mound of hay in here. I think that’s what’s kept them alive this long.”
“Okay. Well, get to work.”
“Will do, boss,” the other man said, and after a brief burst of static, the link was s
evered.
Chris was silent for a long while, tapping at a keyboard, then started flipping through video views of the ship, but he paused at one screen and leaned in for a closer look. Arthur could see only about half of the screen from around the man’s shoulder, but it looked like the corridor outside the infirmary. There was no light whatsoever coming from inside. Next Chris flicked to a display for the sensor readings.
“Hey, Greg,” he said into his headset. “Where are you?”
“I’m knee-deep in chicken crap, Chris.”
“You’re a couple levels under the infirmary, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you detected any signs of decompression on that side of the ship? Any pinholes?”
“Nah,” Greg said. “So far so good here. But the infirmary’s been showing no signs of life support, right?”
“Right,” Chris said thoughtfully and peered closely at the screen.
Arthur racked his brain. Had Sarek evacuated the infirmary? He must have!
“You want me tracking chicken crap all the way up there, Chris? Because when I say knee-deep…”
“Nah,” Chris responded and flicked through different displays, all of them showing stats on the infirmary level. “Low priority. I’ll put it on our to-do list, okay?”
“Yeah, Chris. Put it at the bottom.”
Chris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and then to Arthur’s great delight, he stood up from his chair. Arthur was surprised to find that though Chris was broad and strong-looking, he was actually quite short.
“Got to see what’s doing,” Chris muttered to himself, patting his belly as he limped out the door in the stiff way of an adult who had sat for too long.
Arthur listened for a minute more, but he was too thirsty to wait any longer. He worked the ventilation screen out of its casing and wriggled onto the floor of Central Command.
Hiding in that cramped space had been horrible, but he’d been lucky to make it into the duct before Chris and his helpers had come in that morning earlier than usual. Arthur had had just enough time to back his way into the duct and pull the grate in after him. There he’d sat, all day long.
Flame: A Sky Chasers Novel Page 7