Zenith

by Sasha Alsberg

  Andi sighed, knowing this line of thinking was foolish. Gilly was grinning ear to ear as she and Breck left the bridge, and as long as they were both happy with the new weapons, it didn’t matter who actually supplied them.

  Lira remained behind, watching Andi with those all-seeing Adhiran eyes of hers. They’d been together the longest, shared countless stories over bottles of fizzy Cosmic Cram until their eyes became as glassy as the stars.

  Andi would never forget the day she met Lira at a fighting ring on Zerpro7. They’d stood side by side, two girls intent on winning their bets. But the fights were slow that night, the brawlers not very skilled, and soon Andi found herself conversing with Lira.

  They should put me in the ring, Lira had said, sighing as she leaned over the dirty railing, peering at the fight below.

  You sound confident, Andi had answered.

  I’m confident enough when it comes to fighting, Lira said, but flying is my true gift.

  They’d talked long into the night, and hours later Andi had offered Lira a test run with her ship. They’d flown away from Zerpro7 and never looked back.

  “You’re not okay, Andi,” Lira said now. “I can see it as clear as varillium, so stop trying to pretend that you are.”

  Andi sighed, running her hand through her tangled white and purple hair. It was going to take her hours to work out the knots.

  “I’m fine.” But she knew Lira sensed the lie the moment it left her lips. “I’m just...” She sighed. “I need some time with my thoughts, Lira.”

  Lira looked at her doubtfully, but obliged. “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

  Andi watched Lira leave the room before turning to look past the clear glass wall and at the inside of the Tracker ship. Men in blue Arcardian Patrolmen uniforms scuttled around like ants as they finished their final checks on the Marauder.

  Andi was exhausted, both mentally and physically, the kind of exhaustion she doubted sleep could fix. For once, she wasn’t positive what the next step would be, besides rescuing the general’s son. Beyond that was an expanse of complete uncertainty.

  A death sentence pardoned. An entire planet waiting for her. But after all that had transpired and with the wounds she still held inside...could she ever really return?

  With a sigh, she picked up her swords and began tallying the day’s kills. As she dug into the metal, Andi’s thoughts drifted to the past.

  She wished, desperately, that she’d never been chosen for the sacred Spectre position, that she’d simply become a regular soldier like her father. Her earliest memories of their time together were of training days, bruised fists and bloodied knuckles. Fighting is in our blood, Androma. We will always defend Arcardius, at all costs.

  It was because of her father’s training that she so often wound up in the commandant’s office after fighting with other students at the Academy when her anger got the best of her. It was because of her anger that her parents put her into dance classes, in hopes they would help soften her edges.

  And it was because of dancing that she’d met Kalee. If she’d only kept quiet at the Academy, hadn’t made Kalee laugh in their dance classes, hadn’t invited her to eat lunch in her pod...their friendship would never have begun.

  General Cortas never would have seen the bond they shared. The fierceness with which Andi defended Kalee from the teasing of their classmates. The way she could so skillfully break a nose and slip back into the shadows without another word. How she excelled in every military class and received top marks in physical combat classes.

  It was a series of small choices that led to one large mistake, and because of it, because of Andi...Kalee had died.

  The painful truth still clung to Andi after all this time.

  This ship and these girls were her only solace. And now they were heading into the mouth of hell.

  Gilly was right. This job was bigger than anything they’d ever done before. It was rare moments like these when Andi wished she had a simpler, easier life.

  If only she could believe that a pardon from General Cortas would take the pain of the past away. But she knew, as well as the general did, that her future was destroyed when Kalee took her last breath.

  “Hello, Androma Racella.”

  Andi whirled in her chair, lifting her swords and finding herself face-to-face with someone unexpected.

  Something, more like.

  Confusion riddled her brain before she put the pieces together. She hadn’t met many AIs in her life, though she’d seen them on the feeds years ago attending to the deep-pocketed aristocrats across Mirabel.

  The AI’s face was white like the snowcapped mountains on Solera. It had two eyes and a mouth, legs and arms, but besides that, it was absent any other humanoid traits. The AI’s body was see-through, like the Marauder’s walls, and Andi could see all the gears and wires inside, clicking and whirring silently like an old-era clock.

  AIs had been exceedingly rare since The Cataclysm ended fifteen years ago, when they were outlawed across Mirabel. The Olen System had weaponized AIs during the war against the Unified Systems, and if not for the advanced military tech developed by New Veda and Tenebris to combat the AI army, the Unified Systems would’ve fallen. It wasn’t until six years ago that the artificially intelligent beings had been integrated into society again, primarily as servants and errand-goers and mechanics—and sometimes chefs, which Breck had so often begged Andi to obtain for the Marauder.

  After staring at the AI for a few more seconds, a whistling from down the hallway pulled Andi’s attention away. Dex strolled into the bridge with a smug grin on his face.

  “Oh, I see you’ve met Alfie,” he said, looking between the two of them.

  “Alfie?” Andi asked, confused by the name.

  “It stands for Artificial Lifeform Intelligence Emissary,” the AI said, staring at Andi with those strange eyes. “But you may call me Alfie.” He bowed slightly.

  Dex patted Alfie on the shoulder. “He’s the general’s. His job is to babysit us on this trip and report back to the big guy on Arcardius.”

  “Wonderful,” Andi said. “I’ve always wanted a babysitter on my ship.”

  Dex crouched down next to her, lips level with her ear. “You know, you were a lot more fun three years ago.”

  It was like he wanted her to kill him.

  She turned and immediately felt flustered when she realized they were separated by mere centimeters. He was so close she could see the pores in his soft brown skin, the deep brown of his eyes and the raised scar on his temple, a souvenir from a fight he got into with an ex-convict just after he and Andi met.

  That scar was nothing compared to the one she must have given him on his chest the day she stole this ship from him. Tenebran Guardians were known for taking pride in their battle marks, but the scar she gave him—whether it still existed or not—was not one he should be proud of.

  It was a sign of his weakness. A disgusting reminder of how he’d chosen money over love.

  Her heart, the traitorous thing, fluttered for a moment like it used to when he looked at her. She used to love his eyes, the unspoken words in their depths. The feel of his skin against hers during their passionate nights.

  Now those thoughts made her cringe. She guarded herself against those memories, which were no longer part of a blissful present, but a hurtful past.

  “A lot has changed in three years, Dextro,” Andi said calmly. “Now, if you don’t move, I’ll give you a new scar, and this time, it will be across your neck.”

  He put his arms up in defense before rising, distancing himself from her.

  “Alfie, grab my bags, please. Let’s get settled in.” He glanced back at Andi with a faraway look in his eyes. The thoughtful gaze unnerved her momentarily, but then he smirked and said, “It’s great to be back on my ship.”

  “My records tell me,�
� Alfie said, trailing after Dex, “that the Marauder belongs to Androma Racella.”

  Andi laughed in satisfaction as they disappeared.

  Dex.

  Even his name was poison in her mind.

  At another time in her life, Andi would’ve felt guilty for her coldness toward him. But that time was long gone. Now she was made of ice, too full of anger and regret to get close to him again.

  He’d betrayed her, and so she’d betrayed him.

  One shredded heart for another.

  She remembered the way Dex’s eyes had burned, how the hilt of her dagger stuck out from his chest as he lay there on that scalding, barren moon. It was the day she’d claimed the Marauder as her own. The day she’d claimed her heart back, too.

  Hearts were pathetic things, too easily broken. The Bloody Baroness couldn’t afford such weakness. Especially not now that Dex was back at her side.

  It’s one job, Andi told herself. You can shoot him out the airlock the second you recover Valen Cortas.

  She smiled at that thought, then settled back down into her seat, where she resumed her tallying.

  There would be another tally added soon, accompanying the others on her blades.

  It had Dex’s name written all over it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * *

  DEX

  Four years ago

  DEX HATED COMING to Uulveca during their annual harvest.

  It was a minor planet in the Stuna System, a place where the pungent smell of the dung of feathered uhven filled the air. Dex covered his nose and mouth with a cloth to suppress the odor, but it failed to block the nauseating stench entirely.

  He wouldn’t be here long—all Dex had to do was check in on a suspected bounty who was rumored to be making some under-the-counter deals and take a few snaps of the evidence. If he caught the scheming bastard in the act, it would mean a load of Krevs, and another constellation tattoo added to his body. Another mark of his Guardian status.

  If not, well... Dex didn’t want to think about the look on Raiseth’s face if he came back empty-handed.

  This was his opportunity to prove to the leader of the Bounty Hunter’s branch that he was more than just some seventeen-year-old student with stars in his eyes. He was a Guardian, born and raised, newly adorned with the title he’d worked his entire life to obtain.

  Life as a Guardian after graduation wasn’t easy. You weren’t offered free room and board or given a steady mission.

  You could work a desk job, damning yourself to a life of boredom while you waited to be called upon for something greater.

  Or you could be like Dex.

  Desperate to live in action, to collect riches, he had joined the Bounty Hunters’ branch of the Guardians in hopes of getting his hands on the worst criminals in Mirabel and placing them behind bars. To keep himself busy, honing his skills, while he waited for further orders.

  With the peace treaty between the Unified Systems and the Olen System, Dex guessed it would be a long wait before he saw any real action.

  He was just as good as any of Raiseth’s other bounty hunters. Better, even. If this had been the Guardian Academy, he would have aced every skill test. Dominated in the fighting classes. Destroyed all the other ranks when it came to intel.

  But Raiseth didn’t care about Dex’s hard-earned title. Raiseth himself was a war hero, a retired Guardian of the highest status. To him, bounty hunting was about proving your worth, catching a criminal prize with ease.

  Dex was determined to do so.

  Now, on his first mission, Dex wove his way through the crowds of people selling their goods in rickety tents. Some offered ripe senada fruit, a rarity that only grew in the southern rainforests of the planet, while others hoisted chunks of freshly slaughtered meat on hooks, blue blood dripping into pans beneath.

  “Drink the blood to find the woman of your dreams,” an elderly shopkeeper called to Dex, her one eye twitching as he passed. It was pure purple, a shade that reminded him of the moons outside New Veda. Her eye twitched again. “Five Krevs a pint, dear boy.”

  Dex laughed as he sidestepped her booth. “There isn’t a woman in the galaxy who would put up with me.”

  Her cackles trailed after him as he faded deeper into the crowd.

  All around him, laughter bubbled up like a wellspring. Music drifted through the air, the different songs sounding out of time—yet somehow it all wove together as if played by one hand. Despite its stench, this small planet was a place of growth and love and life, and somewhere in the midst of it all was his target.

  Dex kept his head on a swivel as he walked, searching for his target’s telltale shock of red chest fur. Raiseth had said the Stramh man would be here, peddling illegal brainworms. Striding past a leather maker’s stall, Dex hastened his pace, boots gliding effortlessly over the rocky ground. He could see his target’s shop in the distance, a ramshackle booth made of canvas and rusted metal poles.

  But as he drew closer, Dex frowned. The booth was empty, its owner nowhere in sight.

  Almost as if he’d packed up and left, knowing Dex was on his way.

  Raiseth had warned him about this—targets with their own informants, too quick and too clever to be caught on the first try.

  Since the beginning of his mission, Dex had been imagining the moment when he’d reach out and hold a knife to the peddler’s furry red side, whispering words of defeat in his pointed ear. That moment was now dead and gone. Instead, he strode over to the booth and slipped inside, kneeling down to the inspect the dust-covered shelves nailed together within.

  Dex needed a sign, any indication of where the target had fled, but he was greeted with only dust and dirt.

  He’d have to come up with a new plan. But first, he needed to trek back to his ship and contact his informant.

  Dex was just sliding back into the crowd when he felt it.

  A shift in the weight against his belt where he kept his bag of Krevs.

  Dex whirled, flipping out his blade and simultaneously wrapping a fist around the would-be thief’s neck.

  It was a young woman. She had white hair the color of stardust, tangled and matted as if she’d just been caught in the midst of a storm. Gray eyes stared out of a face masked by filth and grime. Dex’s bag of Krevs was clutched tightly in her fist.

  He snatched the bag away from her, but didn’t release his hold on her throat.

  “Nice try,” Dex said. “On any normal person, you would’ve gotten away with that.”

  He’d dealt with street rats before, knew all of their tricks and, as Dex tightened his hold on the young thief, he expected her gray eyes to well up with tears. He expected a kick to the groin, or for her to sink her teeth into his hand. “I could kill you with one twist of your neck,” he added, waiting for her to make a move.

  Her eyes narrowed. It was his only warning that she was going to react before her body twisted. He felt her foot hook around his ankle, and before he knew it, they were on the ground.

  She held a small knife to his throat. His knife, which she must have stolen from his belt.

  “Impressive,” Dex said.

  Then he shifted his weight and used his momentum to roll them sideways, where he landed on top of her, the knife discarded, twin snarls on both their faces.

  His pouch of Krevs sat several feet away, a few of the golden coins loose and glittering under the sun.

  “Get off,” the young woman said.

  There was no fear in her eyes. Only a burning anger as hot as a flame.

  She tried to wriggle away, but she was weak. He could see now how frail she was, how her worn clothing hung from her frame and danced in the wind. Her wrists were wrapped in thick cloth and tied with leather strips. Dark stains, possibly blood, stained the material.

  She was too old to be a street rat, and too filthy t
o be working for a pleasure palace. The palace owners on Uulveca liked to keep their workers clean and enticing.

  A nagging in Dex’s brain told him he’d seen her before. But he’d seen hundreds of people in this market today. Perhaps she’d been following him?

  Curious, Dex lifted some of his weight from her, but didn’t let her go. “You should learn how to pick your targets more wisely.”

  Her eyes narrowed, her gaze raking over his body. “I should say the same to you. You don’t look nearly strong enough to capture that dealer you were going after.”

  “You know about him?” Dex asked curiously. If he could get information from her, maybe he wouldn’t have to contact his informant. He could avoid the digs from Raiseth’s other recruits and salvage the mission before it was too late.

  The young woman tilted her head, a slight smile pulling at her cracked lips.

  “It’s going to cost you.”

  Two can play at this game, Dex thought. “How about instead of my turning you over to the Patrolmen, you tell me what I want to know?” He had her there. Or so he thought.

  She shrugged her bone-thin shoulders and laughed. An empty one, the kind that came from a person with little hope left in life. “They don’t care about me.”

  As Dex stood, pulling her with him, he caught the flicker in her eyes. A hint of fear as she glanced over his shoulder, as if she expected the Patrolmen to come running.

  What had she done, Dex wondered, to end up in this stinkhole? Beyond the grime, he could see someone chased by the ghosts of her past. Someone broken, but clever and quick enough to play at his games. Certainly a strong fighter, likely stronger when she was well fed.

  He thought for another moment before responding. “If you give me the information I need, I’ll buy you a meal. By the looks of it, you need one.”

  She stared at him, eyes squinting as if trying to seek out an ulterior motive. “I’ll choose the place,” she said finally. “And I want a week’s worth of meals. And all the Krevs in your pouch.”

  He paused. If it weren’t for his pride, he would happily walk right back to his ship and contact his informant. But he had a reputation to uphold, so this seemed the better option. “Half the Krevs,” he said. “And if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.”