The Suncatcher was an early device he had designed for his mother and her gardens on Earth. Later on, Emery, pursuing her own horticulture studies at university, suggested some enhancements. The result was a fully functional, artificial source for light. Its beam rained down on the thousands of plants below, making the Biovid a giant womb in which plants could flourish.
Exton breathed in deeply. The scents and smells weighted down the air, making him think of home and growing up.
“Is that you, Exton?”
Exton flinched at the sound of the familiar voice. “Yes, it is, Dennis.”
“You know I prefer to have others use my title,” the man remarked solemnly.
Only so you can use its power if you need to. But Exton swallowed his sarcasm as his father’s old mentor approached. “Reverend Thorne,” he acknowledged, nodding respectfully to the older man who appeared behind him.
“I thought that was you,” Reverend Thorne said.
Exton nodded. “I like to come by and visit every so often. As you know.” Which is why you are here, no doubt.
“I’m glad I caught you. It was a pity you weren’t able to make the meeting with the other board members of the Ecclesia earlier.”
Exton inwardly rolled his eyes. There were several reasons he didn’t mind “forgetting” the meetings with the Ecclesia, and Reverend Thorne, while he was a good man, was one of them. He always seemed … too peaceful for Exton’s preference.
How did a man who helped oversee the survival of an outlawed religion sleep at night? The world was a terrible place, and Exton knew that better than most.
“Your brother’s not with you, is he?” Exton asked, glancing over the reverend’s shoulder.
“Don is fast asleep,” Reverend Thorne assured him. “As many of the Ecclesia are.”
“I don’t suppose you came here out of sheer coincidence, did you?”
“You’re too efficient with your speech sometimes,” Reverend Thorne said, the kind firmness in his gray eyes weakening. “But then, so was your father.”
“I remember,” Exton replied somberly.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not a problem,” Exton asserted. “But I detest trickery, and wasting my time. Tell me what you want, and then be on your way.”
“I know you like this place,” Reverend Thorne answered. “But it is open to the Ecclesia as well as the crew.”
“I came here to check on the remnants of the Memory Tree. It’s finishing up with its processing soon.” Exton’s voice grew impatient. “Just tell me what you want.”
Reverend Thorne nodded. “Very well. I can see you’re in a hurry for me to go. I would like to know what you’ve done with the new girl on board.”
“What of it?” Exton asked. “She’s still in the med ward.”
“She won’t need to be in there for much longer,” Reverend Thorne pointed out. “Decontamination doesn’t last much longer than three days.”
“So?”
“I thought, since word has it she has declared herself your enemy—”
“Since when do you listen to gossip?”
“Listening to it has never been the problem,” the reverend told him with a small laugh. “The problem was always getting people to stop repeating it.”
Exton gave a grudging smile. For all the man believed in miracles, his logic was sound. “I suppose that’s true.”
“I heard that she is not a refugee, and she is not a defector.”
“Not a defector by choice,” Exton agreed. “While she’s here, she is one regardless.”
“I thought perhaps it might be easier if the board took care of her for you. We would start by selecting a guardian for her and then get her settled in.”
“Like a babysitter?”
“More or less,” Reverend Throne admitted. “I was thinking of a mentor, or chaperon. Someone who could show her the truth of the URS and what we’re—”
“You can stop there,” Exton said. “She was taken here by accident, but there’s no need to try to convert her to our cause. She’s young, Reverend. Barely graduated from secondary levels, and raised in the heart of New Hope to begin with. And you know better than I do that people rarely change unless they want to.”
“Imagine that,” the reverend muttered, before he sighed. “Youth is no reason to declare her hopeless. You were younger than her when—”
“When what?” Exton glared at him. “When my father was executed?”
Reverend Thorne went silent.
“You might have a distinct lineage of priests and traditions that embrace God and his grace,” Exton continued slowly. “But around here, I am still the captain, and I am still in charge of this ship.”
“But you don’t know the girl any more than the rest of us do,” he pointed out. “At least we would be able to get her accustomed to the community onboard better; place her with some of the younger crew and their families, that sort of thing.”
“I know she’s been trained for war combat,” Exton told him brusquely, “and that she’s a handful.”
There were other things he’d learned about her in the past two days as he kept up with her reports and worked on figuring out just how much trouble she would cause them while she was onboard the Perdition.
Hadn’t it been that strange curiosity, that surprising drive to find out more, that had prompted him to keep his distance?
“I would still recommend her to come into the Ecclesia quarters on the other side of the ship,” Reverend Thorne said. “If nothing else, I’d be happy to keep her out of your way, so you don’t need to worry about her while you’re running things here.”
For some reason, Exton felt like punching him. “I’ve already decided what to do with her,” he lied. “So you don’t need to worry about it.”
“Of course. I should have asked you first, Captain.” The reverend’s eyes dropped respectfully down to the ground, and Exton felt a mixed measure of shame and pride at winning the argument.
Exton didn’t know why his father’s community members bothered him so much. He had grown up with them in their small town, learned beside them … ate with them, prayed with them, worked with them.
Maybe it was because they had known him so well before university, Exton thought. Maybe it was because they all mourned the loss of his father, of a past he would never experience again.
Exton was willing to bet those were at least some of the bigger reasons, anyway.
“May I ask what you intend to do with the girl?” Reverend Thorne inquired.
“Huh?” Exton shook his head. “I, uh, I was going to put her in Emery’s care,” he said, surprised at how easily he was able to fabricate the lie. “With the harvest approaching, I’ll need Tyler at the helm more often than not. She’ll have the time and opportunity.”
All of that was more than true, Exton realized. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it really was the perfect solution. He could trust Emery; he’d seen her take care of other refugees, and she knew how to take command of her projects. Exton himself was proof of that.
“I’ll have her move into Emery’s old quarters, now that Emery’s married to Tyler,” he added, suddenly inspired. “And I’ll keep tabs on her so I can stop her if she dares give us any troubles. Or,” he added, “if we need some leverage with Dictator Osgood.”
For a moment, the reverend remained silent. “I take it from your tone your earlier conversation with the dictator did not go well?”
“No,” Exton snapped. “It didn’t.”
“Tell me. Please.” The gray eyes were tired, but they were full of patience and compassion—two things Exton never felt he completely mastered himself.
He sighed, giving in despite his reservations. “I contacted him, and I let him know about our victory.”
“He would have already known.”
“Yes. He wasn’t happy about it. At least, I can’t imagine that he was,” Exton disclosed.
“What has you so worried, then?�
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“He’s promoted General St. Cloud. He’s now second in command, after Osgood himself.”
“Ah, I see. Did you get a chance to speak to St. Cloud?” Reverend Thorne asked.
“A little. He told me he was the one who was authorized to kill me now.” Exton gave the reverend a small, bitter smile. “I wasn’t sure if his words were intentional or not.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“I have no doubt he knows who I am,” Exton admitted. “Even if the people from the URS don’t. Aerie more or less confirmed that they don’t know much about me when I talked with her.”
“Aerie?”
Exton shrugged. “The girl who arrived with the tree.”
“I see.” The older man reached out hesitantly, patting Exton on the arm. “You’ve always known St. Cloud was working under Osgood. Why is this worrying you?”
After a moment of silence, Exton sighed. “I thought this was going to be easy. All I had to do was kill the bad guy, right? But it’s become much more complicated since then.”
“Revenge is never an easy path,” the reverend reminded him. “That’s why we are called to forgive.”
“There are some things that are impossible to forgive.” Exton’s voice cracked angrily at the suggestion.
“You are talking to a man of God,” the reverend said with a sigh. “God, who gave over his own son to die for the sins of the world. Our ideas of impossible are different.”
Exton glared at him.
“But that does not mean, of course, that our idea of compassion is,” Reverend Thorne continued. “You know the Ecclesia is here for you if you need it.”
“I know my father wanted you to look out for me and Emery after everything that happened,” Exton grumbled.
“It was almost as if he’d known.”
“Let me finish,” Exton snapped. “I know he wanted you to look out for me. But I do think that is where your duty ends. I am not under any obligation to follow your recommendations or counsel.”
“You are a great leader, Exton,” Reverend Thorne agreed. “You’ve been decisive and smart, and you’ve been kind in many ways. Your aunt’s settlement is growing with the refugees you bring to her and your crew is devoted to you, the Ecclesia included. You have done much for us while you’ve been up here on Perdition.” He hesitated. “And I know that it has been a lot harder to keep going, especially in light of what we’ve found.”
“But?”
“But nothing. Your father would be proud.”
No, he wouldn’t. Not if he knew the truth.
Exton turned away, heading deeper into the middle of the garden. “Call up the bridge and have them schedule a new meeting with me for the Ecclesia,” he called, refusing to look back. “I’ll talk with you again then.”
“All right,” Reverend Thorne remarked, though Exton was still close enough he could hear the disappointment in his voice.
Serves him right, Exton thought. The reverend deserved to be disappointed if he thought it was so simple a thing to do, to forgive someone for killing a loved one.
Exton slowed his pace as he listened for the reverend to exit the Biovid. When he heard the whoosh of the Biovid’s starboard forward door shutting, he continued on.
In the center of the Biovid, there was a winding staircase leading to the other rooms below, including the Ark—and the other room, the one he’d prefer to forget. He passed by it, uneasy even as he focused on his reason for coming to the Biovid in the first place.
It wasn’t as if he needed to see the Memory Tree, but Exton felt it was only right. If he was going to keep his distance from his other captive, what was the harm in checking up on this one?
At least this one couldn’t talk back.
At the sight of its trunk, lounging against the softened soil, Exton wondered if “captive” was the right term to use; “casualty” might have been better.
Many years had passed since his father was executed by the URS, but Exton still recalled the day clearly in his mind. He could see his father running toward him, and hear the terror and sorrow in his voice.
Feel the warmth of his father’s blood through the barrier of his university uniform.
Smell the onset of death.
Really, Exton thought a moment later, what is a tree, or anything else, in exchange for the life of my father?
“Nothing.” He answered his own question aloud, suddenly feeling a new layer of emptiness inside the oval chamber. Exton sighed and glanced down at his hands, before turning them into fists.
He glanced up at the tree, seeing its own destroyed pride as it slumped over, the roots seeming older and gloomier than when his capsule had first uprooted it.
Part of him wanted to be fine with turning it into woodchips before blasting it toward the sun, watching the coldness of space surround it before the solar winds playfully licked at its branches. The other part of him, the part he sometimes hated, had other plans for the Memory Tree.
Exton reached up and placed a hand on the tree. He stood there for a long time in silence. Catching sight of the small slash on his knuckles, Exton finally turned around and headed for the exit.
He needed a new distraction.
♦10♦
Aerie knew the instant she was no longer alone.
It had been only an hour since the last medic came to check her chart, vitals, etc.—anything to wake her up and make her feel uncomfortable for a few moments, before tucking her back under the covers gently and leaving the room without giving her any information.
It was comforting that they weren’t torturing her. Yet.
But the medics were all similarly trained, as far as Aerie could see. Their footsteps were light and brisk as they walked in through the door, and their jackets, while clean, were full of various supplies and medicines, making them floppy and lopsided. Their movements were impersonal, regimented—but still kind enough that she was unable to escape the thought of her mother.
When Aerie heard his even footsteps, measured out with rigid certainty, she knew he had come back to see her.
Exton.
She almost shook her head. No, she scolded herself. Don’t think of him that way. Captain Chainsword. Or his ghost.
Calling him by his real name proved to be a mistake. Captain Chainsword had been her adversary, the familiar, inhuman face of the ultimate enemy. Exton was an unexpected surprise—a human being with a heart full of pain and humor that might have made her laugh if she wasn’t supposed to hate him.
Separating the two identities was wiser. The enemy did not deserve sympathy.
Although she had to admit, now that she’d seen his face, he didn’t look a lot like the Captain Chainsword she’d seen in the capsule, or the one whose picture dominated the defector’s list at the education center. Even if he were to wear all the clothes, and the wig, and the hat, she would only see past them.
She peeked at him as he grabbed her chart and began reading it while he headed toward her. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut.
Aerie instantly regretted it. There was nothing she wanted more than to see him, to watch him … to make sure he didn’t smother her or inject her with poison.
Soft scuffles sounded against the floor as he pulled up a chair beside her.
For a long moment, she wondered what he was doing as he sat there. Was he watching her? Did he know she was awake?
More likely he is just reading through my chart, she realized, as the screen beeped while he made notes.
Finally, after interminable moments of waiting, he spoke. “How’s my favorite patient today?”
His voice was soft and husky, both irritating and intriguing, a siren’s call to pleasure despite the promised pain.
Just as she remembered it.
Against the darkness and the long hours of isolation, Aerie allowed herself to admit she’d been wondering if he would come and see her again. The medics were nice enough, even if their questions were annoying and repetitive; memories of her unit an
d comrades were dull or worrisome, and thoughts of escape proved to be elusive.
All proved to be poor company when compared to the pirate captain.
Frustrated, she sighed and opened her eyes. “How did you know I was awake?”
A smirk crawled up onto his face at the sight of her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He gestured to the small cat that had jumped up on his lap. His fingers curled around the kitten’s ears as she purred in expectant appreciation.
Aerie folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at Moona. “Traitor.”
Moona ignored her, as her own eyes closed with happiness. “The downfall of freedom,” Exton said with a shrug, “is that people can make the wrong choices.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?” Aerie asked, her temper flaring.
He raised his eyebrows. “I was only making a general observation,” he told her. He leaned back in the chair, shifting Moona into his arms while he continued to pet her. “One you’re no doubt familiar with, besides. But if you want to talk about something else, I’ll listen.”
“Ha!” Aerie wrinkled her nose at him. “Like I would tell you anything. I see your game.”
“I guess you haven’t missed me any since our last discussion,” Exton said.
There was no way she was going to tell him the truth regarding that. “Please. It’s not like you’ve been waltzing around thinking about me for the past two days,” Aerie retorted.
“What if I have?”
She sputtered at his reply. “What?”
There was a coolness behind his blue eyes that she hated as he looked at her. “What if I have been thinking of you?”
Aerie frowned. He had to be taunting her, and deliberately, too, she decided. “It would likely only be because you don’t know what do to with me yet,” she wagered.
“There is that question,” Exton agreed easily enough. “What will we do with you?”
“You could take me back to the States,” Aerie suggested, knowing it was a gamble.
The Heights of Perdition (The Divine Space Pirates Book 1) Page 9