I lean back on the cushion so our shoulders are pressed together. I’m searching for the right words, but what she’s wrestling with is what I’ve been wrestling with since Kaya died. I spent a long time weighing who deserved how much blame. Was it my fault or was it Babel’s fault? At the end of the day, though, what mattered was that Kaya was gone.
“Mi abuelita always says you get one of two worlds. You either get the world you hope for or the world you fear. When my name was on the top of the scoreboard, I thought all my dreams were coming true. I was gonna go back and change the world. But the longer we’re out here … I’m not sure what kind of world I’m getting. We can’t keep losing people. I can’t—I can’t lose you. I can’t lose them.”
Before I can respond, Speaker emerges. My heart sinks as I take in the posture of his shoulders and the look on his face. I’ve seen Pops look like that coming out of doctor visits as Moms got worse and worse. Which is why it’s a surprise to see Holly stride out behind him. The sight of her walking like nothing happened pulls the rest of us to our feet. The other Genesis members trail her, but their faces aren’t excited or relieved.
They look just as horrified as Speaker. I don’t get it until I lock eyes with Holly.
We didn’t speak all that much on the ship, but there’s something intimate about standing across from someone and trading punches. There are details you memorize as the adrenaline kicks in, as you dip shoulders and throw jabs. Holly’s eyes were green. A light color like mint.
Now they’re black.
“Holly?” Morning’s voice trembles. “What happened to her?”
Speaker shakes his head. “She was Gripped by the substance.”
As we watch, Speaker stops walking. Holly pauses at the exact same moment. She looks over at him like she’s waiting for a command. Something about that look and those eyes feels worse than death. “Gripped?” Morning echoes.
“To the Eternal Tasks. She will be … compelled,” Speaker explains. “Compelled to perform useful tasks. Preparing meals, cleaning rooms, fixing broken equipment.”
None of us have forgotten Babel’s experiments in space. I can still see the line of nyxian objects, each one slightly bigger than the next. Every time the substance cut us away from the present, pulled us down with greedy hands, was this what it was trying to do?
“Eternal Tasks?” Morning echoes.
Speaker nods. “If we cannot free her, she will work in this world and the next.”
The entire group flinches at that. I’m not sure where everyone else stands on the afterlife, but the idea of Holly working mindlessly to her death—and maybe beyond—has me completely shook.
“But you can fix her?” I ask desperately. “Right, Speak? There has to be …”
I let the sentence trail off as Holly lifts her head. We all watch as she turns mechanically and marches toward the kitchen. The group stumbles that way, keeping an eye on her as she reaches the cabinets. She takes up the nearest rag and starts wiping down the counter.
“Damn,” I whisper. “This is so messed up.”
Speaker shakes his head. “I am sorry. We didn’t expect—it’s very uncommon. Babel told us that you would be trained in manipulating nyxia. It was a point of emphasis in our negotiations. As outsiders, you’re more vulnerable to the substance’s pull. We made it very clear that there are limitations you must learn if you’re to come here. We warned Babel.”
“She made a mistake,” Omar says. “I saw it happen. Just manipulated the wrong thing.”
Morning’s eyes sweep back to Speaker. “So what are you saying? That she’s stuck like this? That doesn’t work for us, Speaker. That person in there isn’t Holly.”
“She is fortunate to be alive,” Speaker replies. “The Gripped are a crucial part of our society, but it is a process that’s usually done with great care and guidance. I am amazed that she survived. There are ways to bring her back, but those methods are difficult. We should be able to treat her when we reach Sevenset.”
“So take her now,” I suggest, earning a few looks. “Treat her now.”
Speaker exchanges a look with the other Imago. The three of them come to a silent understanding before he responds. “We have to honor the treaty. She’ll receive treatment, but only after Babel receives what we promised them. She’s not in danger if she waits. You will just have to make sure she doesn’t exert too much energy. She will only eat and drink if she is ordered to do so.”
Morning looks frustrated by that answer. So does the rest of the group. In the kitchen, Holly’s finished wiping down the counters and has started sorting through the cabinets, making sure everything is in order.
Speaker offers an apologetic look. “It would be irresponsible of me to not use this moment to warn the rest of you. Proceed with caution. Nyxia is a complex substance. I am hopeful for Holly’s recovery—I do think there are ways for my people to restore her—but it will not be without difficulty. Please be as careful as possible when you work with the substance.”
Morning nods a concession. “We fathom. It’s late. Let’s get some sleep. I’ll stay with Holly for the first shift.”
Parvin waves her off. “I’m her captain. She was my responsibility—is my responsibility. We’ll set up a rotation with our group until she falls asleep.” The thought has Parvin frowning. She looks in Speaker’s direction. “She will sleep, won’t she?”
He gives a nod. “Less than most, but yes, she will sleep.”
The Imago excuse themselves after that. I can hear them whispering together, clearly imagining this as a blow to the first week of negotiations. The rest of the group disperses too. Morning tries to say good night to Holly, but she ignores Morning as she restacks bowls in the upper cabinet. We cross back to Hive-3, and there’s an undeniable grief hanging in the air.
Anton and Jaime are already in their rooms, doors closed, probably sleeping. Today should have been a day of wonder and exploration. A day to remind us all that we’re still here and we’re still fighting, even after everything Babel’s done. I saved Morning in the tunnel earlier. I discovered I can speak languages I have no business knowing. This new world’s been full of miracles, but there are nightmares waiting for us here too.
As I drift off to sleep, my dreams ignore the joys and victories of the day. I dream of Holly’s pitch-black eyes. I dream of Roathy standing behind the nyxian barrier I created, but this time Isadora is standing with him. She raises a hand that’s covered in green-black smoke.
The two of them come for me, and there’s nothing I can do.
Chapter 10
Behind the Curtain
Emmett Atwater
There’s a second where dream becomes reality. I wake to darkness. There’s a hiss for quiet, a figure hovering nearby, a dread in my chest that somehow Isadora has come for me …
… but it’s Jaime. Jaime’s in my room, crouched at the foot of my bed, and he’s holding the side of his rib cage where the wound is. “Emmett. I need to go down to the med bay.”
My heart pounds with relief. I sit up, half-asleep, and start pulling my suit on. Jaime stands, but the motion costs him something. He lets out a muted grunt before limping to the door.
“Here,” I say, zipping up my suit. “I got you.”
With one of his arms draped over my shoulder, I move us through the door and out into Hive-3. At this hour, only a handful of lights have been left on. The far end of the common room is sheathed in darkness. The tunnel that leads back to the tower proper is a nest of shadows too. I stare that way, Jaime draped over one side, and find myself hesitating.
“Isadora went to bed,” Jaime says, reading my fears. “I didn’t see her out there.”
I offer him a tight nod and get us moving again. Jaime’s words don’t stop me from reaching for the nyxia in my left pocket. I link my mind to it, like letting a mental hand hover over the handle of a holstered gun, just in case. There’s no sign of Isadora in the common room, though. Only Holly and Parvin. Holly’s asleep o
n one of the couches. Parvin’s sitting up at the opposite end, and she’s dozed off too. A single overhead light throws shadows in every direction. Jaime winces again, and I move him in the direction I saw them take Holly earlier.
There, beneath the upward winding staircases, is a narrow ramp. It runs down thirty meters before hairpinning, thirty more meters, another turn. A cracked door offers us a sliver of light. Jaime nods us inside. “So what … it just started bleeding again?” I ask.
“I think I popped one of the stitches,” he says. “I just need some bandages.”
The bright interior reminds me of the ship, the time I spent in the med unit because of Jaime. It wasn’t his fault, not really. All he did was accidentally punch a sword through my gut.
Three gurneys are arranged in a half circle. There’s a sink built into one corner, and stacks of medical supplies are sectioned into a makeshift shelving system. I’m eyeing the rows and rows of equipment when Jaime shuts the door.
“Over there,” he says. “Second row on the far left.”
I’m barely awake as I fumble through the rows and pull down a stack of bandages. A glance shows that Jaime’s exhausted. He looks like he hasn’t slept since landing.
“How you holding up, man?”
Jaime shrugs his shirt overhead and starts picking at the current bandage. He grits his teeth and pulls the thing off with a solid rip. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“You sleeping?”
He stares at me for a second. “I keep having nightmares.”
I cross the room, nodding. “About Brett.”
It takes a few seconds for me to blink the sleep away. I stand there, eyeing the wound. Blood has dried along the center section, but everything else looks normal. Jaime takes a deep breath. “I was always a good kid. I followed the rules. That’s what you do where I come from. You follow the rules. If the crosswalk says don’t walk, you don’t walk. If it says you can only hunt during this season, you only hunt during that season. We’re taught that if you follow the rules, you’ll succeed—that’s how life is supposed to work. Babel took the rules away. I don’t know what to feel right now. It’s like they showed me the worst of who I am.”
I nod my understanding. I’m starting to see the difference between the two of us. It’s not that I’m not mad. I haven’t forgotten what Babel did to us. It’s just that this has happened to me before. I’m used to a world that sells me a lie and pretends it’s the truth. It’s clear that, poor or not, Jaime never had someone do him this way. All the anger that’s burning inside him used to burn inside me. Until my grandmother taught me how to file things away.
But Jaime has no system for tracking this pain. It’s too new to him.
“Can you see anything?” Jaime asks. “Did one of the stitches open up?”
I inspect the wound again and shake my head. “You’re good. I think you just tugged at some of the skin between. New bandage should do the trick.”
He takes a piece of gauze and dabs at the wound. After a few seconds, he leans back and nods. “Get it on as tight as you can.”
“Dr. Atwater at your service,” I say, lining up the bandage. It’s easy work, and I take a step back when it’s done. Jaime smooths the edges before pulling his shirt back on. I’m standing there, thinking about what my Pops would say to me if I was in Jaime’s shoes, when something catches my eye. Jaime’s seated on the far left gurney. There are two others. On the floor next to the middle one, I see a series of scuff marks.
It’s the same detail I noticed aboard Genesis 11. The kind of detail that’s just a little bit off, because down here in a brand-new med bay, why would there be scuff marks at all?
Curiosity drags me to the spot. Definitely scuff marks. A ton of them too. Someone’s been visiting this exact location over and over. Jaime’s finished pulling his jacket back on. He looks over, confused. “What are you doing?’
“This spot …” I shove the gurney aside. The overhead light plays tricks on the surface of the tiles. For a second, it looks like there’s nothing, and I feel like I’m making it all up. I run a finger along the floor, though, and it snags. Finding one edge brings out the whole outline.
A trapdoor.
I trace a finger along the edges until it snags again. A little digging pops up a latch.
“Secret room,” I say.
Jaime offers me a dark look. “Of course they have a secret room.”
I lean down and give the latch a solid tug. The entire panel gapes open. There’s a hole leading down into the dark. We need to investigate. We need to see what Babel’s hiding, even if this is just a route leading out to safety. But standing there on the threshold reminds me of the moment before Kaya and I entered Babel’s torture chamber.
We were curious. We did too much digging. I side-eye Jaime.
“We have to go inside,” he says.
“We really don’t.”
He shakes his head. “We can’t beat them if we don’t know what game they’re playing.”
I stare over at him. It’s the kind of thing PJ would say. Jaime takes one look at me before lowering himself into the dark. I stand there, staring after him, and know that he’s changed. On the ship he never led the way in anything. He was a middle-of-the-pack performer from day one. Babel pushed him too far when they put Brett in the same escape pod as him. They activated some quiet part of Jaime that’s always been there. He’s becoming someone who takes action.
“Damn it.”
I crawl in after him. It’s a narrow tunnel. Dark too, but Jaime’s movement sets off a motion light about twenty meters ahead. I force myself to not think about tight spaces, about being buried alive. Thankfully, the journey’s not long. Jaime reaches the end of the tunnel and we’re facing a door with a hatch-wheel handle. He gives it two spins and then pulls.
I’m not ready for what waits behind the door. I should have known. We all should have suspected. Babel has masks for their masks. Curtains behind their curtains.
The room is full of marines.
Individual capsules run along the walls, framed by nyxia, hanging with flawless precision. Each capsule is fronted by glass casing, slightly fogged by frost. A different face stares down from each chamber. Women and men. Light skin and dark. All tagged with the Babel emblem of a looming tower. I take a second to file this under C for Conspiracy.
When I exhale for the first time, my breath mists in the air. It’s almost freezing in here. Jaime moves forward until he’s standing beside a central console. Blue light runs between the glowing numbers of a keypad. He eyes it for a second before looking back up at the faces.
“How many of them are there?” Jaime asks.
“Maybe thirty on each side? More?”
Jaime looks up into the face of a sturdy-looking marine. He has thin, graying hair and a small scar just above one eyebrow. “They’re all asleep.”
“It’s like in comic books,” I say. “Cryogenic chambers.”
“Just waiting to be activated,” Jaime says, glancing back at the console.
“Babel built them into the base. Right under the Imago’s noses.”
The sound of an echoing click has us both whipping around. Kit stands by the entrance, pistol raised like a professional gunslinger, eyes dead-set on us.
Chapter 11
The Backup Plan
Emmett Atwater
Kit steps inside the hidden room, eyes turning the scene over. It takes him about two seconds to realize we’re the ones responsible for the breach. My heart hammers in my chest.
But Kit’s shoulders relax. He lowers the weapon and sets it back in the holster.
“Oh,” he says, smiling. “It’s just you.”
Jaime and I exchange a glance as he comes sliding forward, gesturing to the walls around us. “Pretty cool, isn’t it? Babel never ceases to amaze.”
I glance Jaime’s way again. He’s a mix of confusion and anger. Clearly, he doesn’t know how to approach this new development. I decide to take the reins
.
“Like something from an episode of the Illuminauts, man. Never seen anything like it.”
Kit’s eyes widen. “You’re not going to believe this, but that’s all I’ve been watching down here. Just finished season seven. You know, the one where they go back in time to find the captain?”
“You’ve got access to your Neverland account down here?”
Kit smiles at that. “We’re not that advanced. I just chose a few uploads before launching. They knew I’d be alone down here. I’ve been binge-watching it for a while. You guys want to catch a few episodes?”
I gesture back to the walls, to the sleeping marines.
“Why watch it when you’re living it?”
Kit smiles even wider. “Fair enough. Yeah, I come down here and visit them every few days. They’re the closest thing to company I’ve had at the base.”
Jaime finally summons the courage to ask the obvious question, the one that’s digging under our skin. “Why are they here? I mean, why send us if they have marines?”
“Just a backup plan,” Kit replies. “You know, if things go south. All I have to do is type in the right code and the marines activate. It takes six hours for them to fully recover from the freeze, but after that? They’re ready to rock and roll.”
“Cool,” I say, lying through my teeth. The frozen battalion isn’t cool. It’s just one more sign of Babel’s true intentions. “So what happens if nothing goes wrong?”
Kit shrugs. “Nothing. We ship them back into space and wake them up there. Like I said, they’re just the backup plan. If something happens, would you rather be on your own down here, or have seventy trained marines rallying for a rescue mission?”
Jaime glances my way before nodding. “It’s smart.”
“Right?” Kit waves us deeper into the chamber. “Come here. This is the best part.”
Our footsteps echo. The ghostly faces watch us pass. A shiver runs down my spine as Kit stops us in front of one of the last marines. He has a narrow face, high cheekbones, and a wash of blond hair. There’s something eerily familiar about him.
Nyxia Unleashed_The Nyxia Triad Page 7