Aaron fuzzed, but did not disappear. “So, this is one of the great warships. Doesn’t seem that different from the freightship. Newer, maybe. Less run down. But it’s not as homey, you know. I like the freightship better. It reminds me of our old hideout on Earth — remember, where we met the hackers?”
“Shhh,” Gal said without thinking.
Rayne glanced his way at the sudden noise, but she quickly turned back to her patrol.
“Relax.” Aaron grinned. “You know she can’t hear me.” He stood, stretching. “Nice bit of hacking, you did there. Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”
Gal pressed his lips tight and stared at a spot on the floor, determined to ignore the apparition.
But Aaron leaned down, right in front of him, refusing to be dismissed. “Tell me about the warship — were you on this one before?”
“No.” Gal shook his head. “The Valkas.”
“Ah. Pity I wasn’t around for that. I imagine you wish I was.”
“Gal?” Rayne called out from the corridor. “What did you say?”
Gal froze. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”
Aaron stared into the corridor and let out a long whistle. “She’s pretty.”
“Don’t,” whispered Gal.
Slapping his knee, Aaron laughed. “Come on, isn’t this fun?”
Gal shook his head, wishing he could simply drop through the cargo container and away through the floor.
“It has to be at least a little gratifying.”
“I just want the peaceful haul,” he said. He’d made his decision when Hap Lansford had offered him his options.
“I know you, Galiant. This has to be the most exciting thing that’s happened since you got demoted. Maybe even since the war.”
“It’s not exciting,” muttered Gal. “It never was.”
“A little exciting?”
“Try terrifying. Every second, I think about how she’s going to die, how I’m going to die.”
Aaron shrugged. “Everyone dies.”
“I don’t want to be here, Aaron. What do I do?”
“Sorry, old friend. You are here. And I don’t see anything so wrong about it. It’s a second chance. Remember, Never give up the fight.”
“There’s no point in the fight. People kept dying, throwing their lives away. You died. For what? Nothing we did ever made a difference.”
“Yes, it did!” Aaron laughed, pure and clear and vibrant. “Did you not see the girl?”
Gal’s chest seized, and he clutched at his heart as he looked directly into Aaron’s not-really-there eyes.
He laughed again. “You know what she is, I’m sure. You’re not a fool.”
“No,” Gal whispered, but Aaron continued.
“Can you believe it? After all these years?” His eyes lit up, a huge grin spread across his face that made Gal think of the two of them playing together as kids. “They’re alive. Because of you.”
But Gal shut his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the one thing that scared him the most. The thing that would certainly get them all killed. Once and for all.
“Gal?” Rayne stood over him. Aaron was gone. “They’ve got everything. It’s time to go.”
* * *
Sarrin’s hand flew to her temple and she staggered back, slamming into the wall.
Halud glanced over, concern sharp in his eyes. The screen flashed a normal grey, his code entered successfully. He let go of a heavy breath and reached for the storage device in his pocket, connecting it to the mainframe computer.
The flash of pain disappeared as quickly as it had come.
A progress bar ticked across the screen, the entire mainframe downloading onto the small memory chip. She willed its progress to be faster. The dark cloud on the edge of her vision crowded in tighter. Pain did not just happen, not like that, it had been created. How? Why?
Her mind raced through a list of possible explanations: blood clot: no; wound: no; concussion: no; infection: no. She’d spent years in a medical research facility, nothing had been missed. Hoepe himself had declared her to be in optimal health.
The list of acceptable, benign possibilities ran low. The darkness whispered to her, unhappy. The room closed in like a trap. Guards shifted beyond the door.
Some piece of the puzzle stayed hidden, something she didn’t yet understand, buried behind a dark shroud. The monster willed her deeper into its dark abyss, promising an answer, telling her she could sense more than simply sounds, feel more than mere emotions; if she tried hard enough, she could see the ripples of space and time across the universe.
A presence — the feeling of standing next to an old friend — startled her, and she stepped back, but the darkness held her in it. Someone from very long ago, just a whisper, scarcely an imagination.
Surely, her mind was more wrecked than even she had suspected.
A sharp clack sounded in the hallway. A man shuffling irregularly: step-step-clack.
Guitteriez.
Her heart raced inside her chest and she snapped her attention back to her surroundings. Trapped, the monster whispered, and showed her the movement diagram, willing her to take the obvious choice and attack first, choose offence over defence.
She looked at Halud, who watched her with narrowed eyes. The progress bar crept across the screen, only part-complete.
The monster covered her vision in its dark tendrils. Guitteriez was here. But she could make him, and the thirteen guards, dead in eight moves. Then find the rest of the crew, commandeer the warship for herself. With the warship, she could fly to Etar, destroy every last minion in the capital city who had let her and the others suffer. And finally, the Speakers themselves would be destroyed. She would be victorious. She would be free.
But she hesitated.
“Sarrin,” A voice whispered over her, dangerously close. “It’s done.”
In her own darkness, she stumbled, slamming into the wall. She pushed the dark curtain aside, straining with the effort. Halud stared at her.
Destroy them now, while you have a chance, the darkness commanded.
But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. That’s what she had told Hoepe; that’s why she had been so afraid of the mission. What she wanted was to be a nice normal girl with no secrets, no experiments.
She ushered Halud into the open access panel ahead of her. She closed the panel on the still dark and quiet room and crawled after him.
Her mind reached out, but there was no presence nearby, no quiet shuffles, no clicking of laz-guns, no thumping hearts other than hers and Halud’s. The darkness stayed in the periphery, pulsating, waiting for its opportunity.
At the nearest widening, she shot past him, clawing and dragging her way through the walls as fast possible.
Halud called out, begging her to wait.
Annoyed and impatient, the monster told her to leave him, and she nearly did. The darkness swirled so thick across her vision it left her nearly blind.
“Sarrin,” Halud panted, and she waited for him to catch up, her muscles shaking and begging to go. “Slow down. What’s going on?”
She leapt through the tiny crawlspace as soon as Halud came marginally close. She went as far in front of him as she dared, putting herself as far from Guitteriez as possible.
Her memory map took her to the freightship despite the encompassing haze. They are close now. A different empty sensation washed over her — the cloaking device — and her soul started to scatter. Her legs and arms flopped weakly, barely connected to the rest of her body. She focussed on her breathing, uneven and ragged. The freightship was her only option though, she just had to get there and hold on long enough for the others to clear the warship and turn the cloaking device off.
The monster offered her a different solution, but she could make it to the ship, she was sure.
Guitteriez stayed by the computer mainframe, she could still hear the echo of his cane on the deck far away. Was it possible he didn’t know? That she had come a
nd gone without his knowledge? And escaped? The halls near them were empty and completely quiet. The mission was easy. Stealth only.
She slipped out of the access tube, sprinting across the short stretch of empty hallway.
Kieran greeted them at the hatch, flashing a smile that shone through her spotty vision. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear the words, only see his teeth opening and closing, the image swimming in and out of focus against a backdrop of darkening black cloud.
The intense electromagnetic field swallowed her. She climbed down the ladder, holding on to her scattering self, stumbling as her feet hit the floor.
Hoepe’s men stood at the far end of the airlock, stacking cargo containers. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing they had made it back safely. That both their missions had been successful. That they could go.
She just needed rest.
The ship disengaged. It wouldn’t be long until they could power down the cloaking device. She could work on pulling herself back together. She would tell Hoepe she didn’t want to go on any more missions, didn’t want to join his crew. She would ask him to put her in a normal life, hide her like he was going to hide Rayne and Kieran. She would find the words to say to her brother and tell him everything that he meant to her.
She took a deep, relaxing breath. Nearly there. Nearly over. Relief flooded across her, a smile starting to creep its way across her lips.
A cargo container dropped to the ground, the sharp crack ricocheting around the small room like a bomb. Men shouted in surprise.
Her vision went black.
EIGHT
KIERAN SEALED THE AIRLOCK, SILENTLY singing an old song to keep his mind focussed. He would be glad when they were back at Contyna with the stupid cloaking device off.
Halud crouched on the ground, his chest heaving while he clutched the storage device to his chest. The men stacked their haul of foods and medicines. Sarrin looked nearly sick, weakly clutching the ladder to hold herself up.
Sarrin had not been herself — not that he knew what she was like normally — but he knew when he’d found her staggering in the corridor that she hadn’t been right. Her eyes swam and her reactions were sluggish, sloppy. Far different from the usual clear gaze and quick, precise movements.
So, he was watching, studying, her when the container fell. He saw her hand grip the ladder so hard it bent. Saw her posture change, her body coil and then spring.
She flew across the room, landing where the container had fallen. The heel of her palm drove into the closest man’s chest.
Halud pushed himself up. “Sarrin! No!”
Her head swivelled towards the noise. Without looking back, she knocked three others to the ground, before leaping back across the room.
Men rushed in to subdue her. They went flying. Her movements sharp and efficient.
Kieran ran for the nearest comm panel. “Emergency in the rear airlock. Sarrin’s gone bonkers.”
Her feral gaze fixated on him, cold and set as stone. He was her the next target.
Jesus.
“Sarrin, relax, it’s okay.” He held his hands out instinctively to try to stop her. “It’s me; it’s Kieran.”
Halud jumped up and reached for her. “Sarrin, stop.”
Sarrin drove her elbow into his chest, throwing him away coughing and struggling to breathe.
She advanced as Kieran backed himself against the wall, both terrified and fascinated. Despite the pain and the scattering in his head, he knew there was only one thing she could be, one secret she had tried to keep.
There was only one reason she’d been held in a secret prison, why it had taken the Poet Laureate himself to rescue her. He knew because Kieran had done his dissertation on the Children of Evangecore. And Sarrin was an Augment, a child soldier.
They were supposed to all be dead, but here was one standing right in front of him!
He would have laughed with joy at his incredibly good luck if it weren’t for the relatively small problem of her fixing to kill him.
He swallowed heavily; if he couldn’t convince her he was a friend, he would be dead. They all would be.
Hoepe’s men tackled her. Seven at once clinging to her tiny frame, and it slowed her down for mere seconds.
She pushed the last one off with a wild yell.
“Sarrin, Sarrin. It’s me, it’s Kieran,” he tried. “I’m a friend.”
Rayne fired her laz-rifle, but Sarrin dodged the beam and threw one of Hoepe’s men in front of it, the smell of burning flesh filling the room.
Her advance continued. She jumped, knocking Kieran to the ground.
He landed, somehow, with his arms above his head, pinched tight and held down in her iron hands, totally immobilized. He couldn’t fight back — it wouldn’t be a good idea anyhow. He forced his body, against all sensible instinct, to relax.
She paused, her right hand squeezing his throat, and searched his face. Her pupils dilated in and out of focus.
“Kieran,” he wheezed, chest crushed under her knee.
The men tackled her again. They struggled, and then Sarrin slumped and her hand relaxed.
Kieran pulled in a shaky breath. He could have been dead. He came inches from it. He should have been terrified.
Hoepe’s men peeled themselves off the pile, slowly relieving the weight that crushed his chest. Sarrin lay unconscious and sprawled on top of him. One of the men pulled her off unceremoniously, and her body rolled to the floor.
Hoepe stood over them, his eyes wide as he clutched an injector.
“What’s going on, Boss?” one of the men asked, rubbing an arm that had already started to bruise
“I’ve sedated her, she’s not a threat,” Hoepe’s voice cracked. “No harm will come to her.”
“What in the Deep is happening?” Gal shouted.
Kieran rubbed at his throat, finding it already difficult to breathe.
“What is she?” Gal shouted at the Poet, pointing to his sister. “What did you bring to my ship?”
Halud still clutched his chest. “I — I didn’t know this would happen,” he choked out.
“I didn’t want to believe it.” Gal clutched his head in his hands and turned away. Then he faced Halud again. “You brought an Augment onto my ship. If you think any of us are going to get out of this alive, you’re a fool.”
Kieran tried to gasp but couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to cough but nothing came out.
“She’s my sister, Gal,” said the Poet. “What was I supposed to do? Leave her to rot in that cell? It’s not her fault what they’ve done to her.”
“Yes!” Gal screamed, “Anywhere is better than here! She’s too dangerous. Just look what happened here. Everyone was nearly killed.”
“Why are you being like this?” shouted Halud.
Gal spun out of the room.
Kieran, still laying on the ground, tugged on the nearest man’s leg, dark blotches appearing cross his vision.
“Oh Gods,” said the man. “Hey, Boss.”
Hoepe dropped down nearly on top of him, nimble hands pinching painfully around Kieran’s neck, shifting quickly.
Sarrin laid on the ground beside him, arms flung out, unconscious. An Augment of Evangecore, a child soldier, an escapee who waged war with the Central Army for three years — they were said to all be dead, left behind on Earth when it imploded.
Kieran couldn’t believe his good luck, a million questions bubbling up inside of him right before he passed out.
* * *
Rayne’s legs thudded numbly with each step as she chased Gal down the corridor. The laz-rifle hung, bouncing at her side. The same rifle she’d shot at… at… that thing. And Sarrin had dodged it, simply ducked as though it were a ball on a playground.
The Poet, scrambling behind her, surged ahead. He reached his arm out, coming just short of grabbing Gal. “I thought you of all people would understand!” he cried. He lunged again, this time snagging the sleeve of Gal’s uniform and spinning him around.
“Understand what?” Gal roared. “What a spread-mad idea this was.”
“Why I had to help her.”
“You can get in a lot of trouble helping people, Halud.”
“She’s just a girl —.”
Gal shoved the Poet across the corridor. “You didn’t fight in the war, you didn’t see. But I’ve been there, I’ve seen exactly what these Augments can do. Sarrin’s as dangerous as any other weapon created by the Army.”
Rayne cried out as he said ‘Augment’. An Augment on her ship. One she had helped protect. That the Poet Laureate was protecting.
“Gods,” Gal huffed, running his hand through his hair. “I thought she was just a criminal, that they’d put her out on the planetary rehabilitation program. You know, ‘disagree with the Gods, volunteer to make a new world, die trying’. Not a Gods-damned Augment.”
“She’s my sister.”
“I don’t care if she’s Hap Lansford’s sister! You brought an Augment on board a starship. You’re going to get us all killed.”
“Hap Lansford?” Wheels spun hopelessly in Rayne’s head. “Isn’t he the one that sent you out here?” Her own voice sounded far away.
The Poet gave her an odd look.
Gal sighed and started moving again. “No one sent him out here, Rayne. I told you, he defected. And we defected with him.”
“What? But — but this is the Path of the Gods!”
“Come on, Rayne, use your head. He made that up.”
Chest tightening, Rayne whipped around to Halud. “Did you?” An image of her father flared into her mind — frowning, eternally disappointed. There had to be a way out of this. Reason flew out the airlock, and years of combat training kicked in — she shoved the Poet, hard. He flattened on the opposite side of the hallway, arms out the sides. Advancing automatically, she pinned him and pulled back her right fist. “How could you? Betray the Gods like that?”
The Poet squeezed his eyes shut. “She’s my sister, not a criminal.”
She shut her eyes, suppressing her scream, and let her fist drop to her side. “‘The Gods provide for us all,’” she said, “didn’t you write that?”
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