by Maura Milan
The borgs pushed past her, rushing him to the med bay. Brinn stood as if the world had stopped.
A hand from the crowd grabbed her shoulder. Brinn spun around, seeing Cammo’s face, blanched white from fear.
“Cammo, what happened?”
“I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
That’s when she heard a familiar shriek, a sound so sharp it scraped against her spine.
Please don’t be her. Please don’t be her. She repeated this over and over in her head, like witchcraft.
But of course it was. Clawing and cursing as the guards peeled her away from the training gym.
Brinn charged toward her, pushing Geoff and Aaron to the side.
“What did you do?” she asked Ia.
“He was the one looking for a fight,” Ia snarled. “I went easy on him.”
“Why were you even fighting in the first place?”
There was something different about her. She wouldn’t look Brinn in the eye. “Because of something that happened during the war.”
“The war’s over now.”
“Brinn, I hurt and killed thousands and thousands of people. That decision haunts me to this day. It’s not over. It will never be over, not for me.”
Brinn’s eyes widened. That was why the crowd was there, ready to rip Ia apart. They wanted justice. They wanted her blood.
Brinn grabbed Ia’s hand, pulling her away from the crowd. “Come on.”
Ia snatched her wrist away. “Don’t get involved.”
“Let me help you,” Brinn pleaded.
“Why?” Ia’s eyes locked onto hers. “It’s not like we’re friends.”
Brinn felt a tear in her heart. “You’re being cruel.”
“Why would I—the most notorious criminal in the known universe—be friends with a Bug like you?”
Brinn’s voice quivered. “If that was true, then why would you cover for me? Why would you scare off Nero? Why would you even bother helping me?”
“Because I pity you, Tarver.”
All Brinn could hear was thunder roaring in her ears. She shot a sharp look to both Aaron and Geoff. “Bring her back to the room, and don’t you dare let her out.”
CHAPTER 37
IA
IA WAS OVER THIS PLACE. Completely over it.
Shrieking, she splashed ice-cold water onto her face. She was happy Brinn wasn’t there. Otherwise, her fist would have flown directly into her face. She couldn’t believe the girl had locked her in her own room.
Mif Brinn. Mif Knives. Mif that Nema wannabe. Mif this whole entire place.
Einn was the one who had persuaded her to stay put in Aphelion, to be a good cadet until he came for her. But she was done waiting for him, and she was through playing nice.
She had never been the maiden who needed to be rescued. That just wasn’t her. She was the Sovereign, the Rogue, and the Blood Wolf. She was Ia Cōcha, whose red feather was stamped onto her helm with blood.
She had a plan, and it was time for her to use it.
Ia punched her fist into the metal wall. Over and over. Until blood trickled down her wrist. Her right hand pulsed with pain as she cradled it to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she bumped the door’s sensor with her elbow. It swished open, and she stumbled into the hallway.
Geoff was the first to reach her. “You’re hurt!”
Aaron bent over her, surveying her wounds. “She’s fine. It’s just a cut.”
Geoff glanced down at the blood staining the front of her flight suit.
“You clunkhead, this is more than just a cut.” He turned back to Ia. “Let’s get you to the med bay.”
Geoff pulled Ia to her feet and guided her to the main vestibule, Aaron following from behind. It was dinnertime, so the halls were empty. Even angry mobs had to eat.
As they approached the med bay, its white and red doors slid open, the smell of bleach and antiseptic stinging her nose. A floatbed swept toward her. Geoff assisted her onto the foam-padded mattress as med borg 494 appeared.
The data flowed behind her eyes as she recognized Ia’s face. 494 looked at Aaron and Geoff. “I Will Take Over From Here.”
Geoff gave a worried nod and ushered Aaron out of the med bay to keep watch outside. As 494 guided her into the infirmary, Ia glanced over her surroundings. Floatbeds lined each wall, all empty except one, closed off by privacy screens.
The med borg stopped Ia’s floatbed in a vacant corner. She pressed a button, and a privacy wall projected around them. The borg snipped the sleeve off Ia’s flight suit.
“You Should Be More Careful,” 494 chided, examining the wound on her arm.
Ia looked up at her, examining the borg’s features. A slight downturn of the lips and a noticeable crease of the skin textile on her brow area. Yes, 494 was worried.
Ia found herself smiling, grateful for her concern. “Sometimes my temper gets the best of me.” Placing a hand upon her chest, Ia continued. “I’ve been experiencing some pains in my cardiac zone. Would you be able to survey the area for me?”
“Affirmative.”
There was one thing she had been aching to get rid of since she got here.
After treating the wound, the borg retrieved a circular screen from a drawer on one side of the floatbed and positioned it over Ia’s chest cavity.
“There Appears To Be Some Fibre Wire Laced Upon The Exterior Tissue Of Your Heart.”
494 swiped her fingers upon the screen, and the view of Ia’s heart, the implant coiled around every bit of muscle, appeared for Ia to see. Ia reached out at the holoscreen, pinching the image so it zoomed in. The tracer was intricate, its wiring laced in and out of the muscle of her heart. She shuddered.
“Is there any way you can extract it?”
The med borg tapped on her screen. “The Power System Is Designed To Short Out If Tampered With, Causing Heart Failure. There Is A 99.998 Percent Fatality Rate.”
Ia took a deep breath. It was bad news, but it was what she had expected. There was a number of biotech systems inside her that she had already adapted to. Now, she had to figure out how to live with the device inside her heart. They would track her, so she couldn’t stay in one place for too long, always glancing in her rearview for Bugs on her tail. And even worse, she would have to live each day, each minute, each second thinking it would be her last. Because she didn’t know when they would stop her heart permanently.
But Knives was nowhere to be found, and she hadn’t seen the general for weeks now. So she had some time to get out of this place, maybe grab a drink at a Dead Space bar before they found out she was gone. At least then they’d kill her when she was in the All Black, where she belonged. Mif it all. That was how she used to live anyway, hanging out on Death’s doorstep. She was just lucky he was never home.
“How Would You Like Me To Proceed?” 494 chimed in.
“Leave it,” Ia answered. “I’ll deal.”
“Affirmative. Now, I Must Advise You To Rest So Your Body Can Repair Itself.” The med borg produced a knit blanket and draped it over Ia’s legs. “I Will Be At My Charging Unit If You Need Me.”
“Thank you, 494,” Ia said as she held her hand. The cyborg’s fingers were warm, like a human’s. The Commonwealth built their borgs well.
Ia watched as 494 left. Above her, the lights dimmed for a sleep environment, but Ia had no plans to rest. She listened until 494’s activity died down outside, replaced by the soft drone of her charging unit.
With smooth movements, Ia stepped off her floatbed and made her way across the room. She had to pay a certain someone a visit. She stopped at the only other occupied section, and without hesitation, Ia stepped through the privacy screens.
There he was, as expected. She leaned over his floatbed, face-to-face with Liam Vyking.
With the help of medical, the swelling on his face had gone down, but that hadn’t stopped his skin from purpling with bruises. The med borgs had even reset the broken nose she had given him. All her hard
work gone to waste. His face would heal like nothing had happened. No scars, no marks.
She rapped a knuckle on his forehead until his eyebrows crinkled and his eyelids fluttered open.
“Rise and shine, handsome.”
Liam’s eyes shot open. At the sight of her, his hands whipped forward, grasping at her neck. Her neck muscles flexed to give her some time. She reached out and dug her thumbs into the largest, tenderest bruise on his face.
The pain was enough to distract him. His hold weakened, and she pushed him off her, pinning him down onto the floatbed.
“I’m not here to fight,” she spat out.
“Then what do you want?”
She looked into his eyes and whispered, “Help me escape. I need a flyer’s prints to access those jets.”
“No way. That’s treason. Besides, you’d never be able to fly out of this sector without clearance from the flight master.”
She had suspected this. Knives had all the jets locked down to this territory, which meant the engines would disable before she got to the gate. Luckily, she was prepared. “Don’t worry about that. Just get me onto one of those ships.”
“You must really think I’m stupid,” Liam said.
“You’re right. I do.”
He rolled his eyes in her direction.
“Those print locks need a full biometric hand scan. So you can help me.” Her fingers clamped down on his wrists, and she dug her fingernails deep into his skin. “Or I can just chop off your right hand.”
His jaw clenched. “Let’s go.”
She loosened her grip and stepped back as he slipped off his floatbed. Ia passed through the privacy shields, glancing back at him. She placed a finger to her lips, prompting him to move as quietly as possible.
494 was still in sleep mode. The hum of her charging unit echoed through the med bay. As long as they didn’t wake her, they would be in the clear. They hung back, sneaking against the wall until they were at the sliding doors. Now they had to worry about getting past her guards.
“How May I Assist You?” a melodic voice chimed out from behind them.
Ia swiveled around to see that 494 had stepped out of her charging unit.
“We just wanted to grab a snack from the canteen.” It was the first thing that popped into Ia’s head, and there was no way 494 would buy that. There was no way anyone would believe that.
“Cadet Cōcha, I Am Aware Of Your History.”
Ia stiffened.
“Based On Your Body Scan,” 494 continued, “I Have Determined You Have An Affection For Sugars.”
Ia’s expression brightened. “You know me too well. I love desserts. But Geoff and Aaron are charged with monitoring my nutrition. If there was a way I could get past them…”
“I Understand.” Ia could have sworn she saw a twinkle in 494’s otherwise blank stare.
The med borg walked toward a storage room and ushered them in. She slid open a secret panel on the floor and flipped a switch that was underneath. Across the room, a small door slid open, large enough for them to crouch into.
It was an emergency exit. Ia grinned to herself. She knew charming a borg would have its advantages.
“This Will Lead To The Flight Deck,” 494 instructed. “From There, You May Reach The Canteen, If You Still Have A Need For Sweets.”
Ia grabbed 494 by the shoulders, pulling her close. The borg was stiff but allowed Ia to hug her.
“Thank you,” Ia whispered.
“Be Safe, Ia.” Her voice was low, but still sounded like a song.
Ia stepped into the dark tunnel. At the end of it was her freedom.
CHAPTER 38
KNIVES
IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS since he left Aphelion, where it was nice and safe, and there was no danger of him dying, except in a sim, which he programmed anyway so he always came out of them alive. He had forgotten firsthand how dangerous the universe was, and now, gazing outside at the fragments of Fugue, he was about to jump right into the thick of it.
Knives’s watch trilled, and a holoscreen immediately flew up before him. It was the general. “Ready onboard, officer?”
Knives had his grav suit on and his helmet locked into place. Life-support systems were running, pumping in a healthy supply of oxygen. He pressed a square yellow button, and the overhead canopy came down, pressurizing the Kaiken’s cabin as it lowered into place.
“Affirmative,” he responded, flicking the general’s screen to the side. He didn’t like the idea of General Adams watching his every move, every facial tick, every bit of sweat that ran down his forehead. Instead, his father was going to get an amazing profile view of his left shoulder.
“Ready for takeoff?” The general’s voice echoed through the pit.
Knives chose not to respond. He went ahead, punching the rear throttle forward.
“Follow protocol, officer. This is a military procedure, not one of your joyrides.”
Knives tilted his chin up so his voice would carry to the onboard computer’s voice recognition. “Mute all screens.”
General Adams was cut off midsentence, and all that was left was the glorious roar of his starjet’s thrusters. The nose of the Kaiken aimed toward GodsEye. Knives scanned the structure for a point of entrance. Drilled into the lower right arch was a set of rungs that led to a hatch. Knives steered toward it, then flipped a switch triggering the magnetic anchors to secure the hull of his jet to the outer rim of GodsEye.
The visor of his helmet gleamed slightly, and a short high-pitched ring announced an incoming stream. Letters flashed. Bastian.
“Everything all right up there? How are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, admiring the scenery. I think I’ll vacation here during Solstice break,” he joked.
Bastian shook his head. “It wasn’t always this way. Fugue used to be a beautiful system.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Bastian. So what now?”
“Use your memory of the layout and find your way inside. Download all the cam footage on the servers. GodsEye is a technology that could become dangerous in the wrong hands. We need to know who’s been out here.”
So that was why Bastian had asked him to memorize the blueprints in his journal. And if this place was really under high security clearance, they wouldn’t want to deal with digital files. Not when Knives could remember everything and see it all so clearly in his mind.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t patch in remotely,” Knives said, trying to find every reason to stay put. He really didn’t want to go out there.
“The operating systems were built to be fully closed off. Everything’s analog. The only access is manual.” Bastian took a moment’s pause. “This is no easy task. Do you understand?”
Knives sighed. “Why am I doing this, Bastian?”
“Because you’ve never let me down,” Bastian responded without hesitation. “We need you.”
“The things I do for you,” Knives muttered as he flicked a switch, pushing the canopy open. He tilted his head up so he faced GodsEye. Its interlocking metal panels were so large that it was all that he could see. His gaze stopped at a red paneled square with a rotating dog lever, surrounded by metal rungs on each side. It was an access hatch. That would be his way in.
With the Kaiken anchored underneath the structure, Knives aimed a grappling line at the column closest to the hatch entrance. Securing the other end to his belt, he pressed a button allowing the line to tow him closer to GodsEye. He swung himself to the access hatch and turned the wheel of the lever, then kicked his feet against the metal and pulled. The hatch door swung open, and he shimmied into the gate.
Inside, the grav systems were off, so he remained afloat. Along with everything else. Papers. Old emergency flight suits. Rusted chips of metal. But what took up the most space was dust. With the gravity disabled, at least it wasn’t getting all over his suit.
“I’m inside,” he told Bastian. “It’s dark as mung in here.”
“There sho
uld be a power grid in…” Bastian’s voice was swallowed up by static. Knives tapped his watch, silencing the display.
Strange, he thought. The signal wouldn’t give out unless there was another signal jamming it. He’d have to find it and disable it in order to get hold of Bastian, but for now, he was without Bastian’s assistance. He would just have to figure everything out by himself.
Knives pushed off against a nearby pillar and floated down the hallway, trying to avoid any rough debris that could tear through his suit. The lights on his shoulders didn’t reach very far, so he felt against the wall, using it as a guide. About fifty feet in, he grabbed onto a handle protruding from the wall and stopped himself before a window. It opened up to the view outside, so dark he could barely distinguish the cruiser’s outline.
He was on the observation deck. Based on the blueprints, he knew the power grid should be there. Somewhere.
Near the window, he spotted a metal casing the size of one of Bastian’s leather-bound notebooks. He steadied himself in front of it, freeing the latch. Inside were rows of tiny black switches, but his eyes were drawn to a larger switch set apart from others, red in color and covered with a flip-up glass casing.
Prying open the casing, he rested his thumb along the edge of the bright-red switch.
“Red’s a good color,” he murmured to himself. “Red is always good.”
He flipped the switch and instantly dropped to the ground. Around him, everything else did the same. He sat up, his helmet completely covered in a layer of thick dust. He wiped what he could off his visor so he could see.
The gravity and air systems were now working. The overhead lights were still off, save for a trail of flickering emergency lights along the walkway, but it was enough.
He followed the path, knowing the server room was in that direction. As he walked, the air grew heavy, humidity fogging the inside of his visor. He ran a scan on the air content, and when he was sure that there was enough oxygen for him to breathe, he bumped his fist against a button at his collarbone. His visor retracted, making it easier for him to see, but not by much. A rancid stench began to darken the air, clinging to his skin, permeating through his pores. It was unshakable. A human smell, of rot and decay. His stomach wretched forward, and the bitter taste of bile coated his throat. Despite his body’s complaints, he held it down.