by Gwynn White
She stared at him. “I don’t want them to explain. I want to go home. My father is sick—he needs me.”
“I already know that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He paused, looking sheepish. “Most people have a natural shield, but it’s thinnest when you’re asleep. It makes it really easy for a flicker to break in.” He took a deep breath and went on in a rush. “I wasn’t looking, exactly. It’s just that most of us have practiced enough that we’re protected when we sleep. Yours was wide open. I swear I didn’t look very far. I just wanted to see what happened. After the reading, I mean.”
Ember stared at him. Wide open? See what happened? What was he talking about?
Flicker. The word was barely familiar, almost like a wisp of memory. She tried to remember where she’d heard it, then decided it didn’t matter. The only thing of importance was getting home.
Someone across the room mumbled in their sleep. It was a girl, her chin resting forward on her chest. It didn’t look very comfortable.
“Don’t worry,” Stefan continued. “I don’t think anyone else cared enough to probe you. But you’ll want to train in mental defenses as soon as we get to Avegard Station.”
She rested her head against the back of the seat, suddenly weary. The circulation was flowing in her feet now, sending pain all the way to her toes. “Don’t worry?” She gritted her teeth. “No, no. This is not okay. Tell your commander I want to talk to him right now.”
He chuckled. “You don’t make demands of a high commander, particularly Kane. It’s an honor just to be on the same ship.”
Commander Kane. Flicker. Of course—she’d read about it in the article hidden behind her family’s image. Something about her father winning an award and Kane saying he would take him to the top. And a sentence about a flicker breeding program.
But what did that have to do with her?
“What is a flicker?” she asked cautiously.
He watched her for a long moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Will you shut up?” someone whined from across the cabin. “Some of us are trying to sleep here.”
Stefan lowered his voice to a whisper. “A flicker can see things others can’t.”
Ember’s mother had trained her well in future-telling. She’d described it as a combination of card reading and people reading. But it had never been that way for Ember. To her, the ability was examining light, almost like sifting through memories. Visions, flashes of possibilities given her from the stars. “How does it work?”
“You already know. You gave quite the demonstration yesterday.”
She studied her hands. “Tell me anyway.”
He shrugged. “It manifests a little differently for everyone, but one thing is always the same. Each living being has an inner light, something religions call a spirit, or soul. Even scientists had to admit there was a part of a person that could be sensed but not seen. You know, that feeling of being watched, or a sense of dread when there’s danger. Some say a person’s light merges with their own consciousness as their soul passes on. That’s why the dying see their life pass before their eyes.”
Inner light. That was what she called it too. His words settled in her heart, sending a chill down her body. His description was exactly right. “Go on.”
“Scientists have tried for centuries, but they couldn’t re-create that light in machines or AI or anything else. It was a mystery—until the first flickers were born. They described the soul as a flickering light, something that held a person’s past and future, like DNA. I guess the name stuck.” He grinned, the shadows from the window crossing his face in a series of dark lines. “Now we’re the rarest, most sought-after beings in the universe.”
Anger flared up inside. He made it sound like such a pleasure to be here. She wasn’t a piece of gold to be mined, by Kane or anyone else. “And this ship is headed where?”
“Flicker training. They didn’t tell you?”
“No,” she growled.
He grunted again and muttered something under his breath.
It had never occurred to her that there were others like her out there. Connecting with a person’s light to see their future was a beautiful gift, but she hadn’t considered the ramifications on a larger scale. This type of power in the Empire’s hands was a scary thing to contemplate.
“By the way,” Stefan continued, “I noticed that you closed your eyes when you read my future yesterday. You’ll want to get over that habit. It leaves you vulnerable to attack.”
Attack? Who would want to attack her? She wasn’t dangerous . . . was she? There it was again, that deep-rooted discomfort telling her something was very wrong. Whatever training they intended for her, she wanted no part of it.
“My father is ill,” she whispered. “I can’t leave him for training or anything else. You have to help me get home.”
He was quiet for a long moment. All she could hear was snoring and the low hum of the engines outside. “They shouldn’t have done this to you. It wasn’t right. And to think that I had a hand in it, however unintentional. I’m really sorry.”
It was a long, roundabout way of saying he couldn’t help her. Ember gritted her teeth. If only she’d been more careful. She should have known better than to tell a man’s future in front of an officer. There was only one thing going for her. Kane suspected she was a flicker, but he didn’t know for sure yet. That meant she could still convince him otherwise. “When do we arrive?”
“In the morning.” He leaned around the cabin. “Speaking of which, I should probably catch some sleep. Unlike certain people on this ship, I didn’t get to sleep the day through.”
“One last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How much did you see of my memories?”
It took him a second to understand. “Oh, not much. You at a funeral. Your mom’s, I think. And your friend’s wedding. Really, all I wanted to know was how you were kidnapped. I swear I didn’t look deeper than that.”
She couldn’t read his face in this light. If he was lying, he hid it well. “Then promise me you’ll never, ever go poking around inside my mind without my permission again.”
Stefan grinned. “You have my word.” He stood and stepped over her, then returned to his seat across the aisle.
They’d reach a station in the morning. If she fooled Kane into thinking she wasn’t a flicker, she could be home in two days. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late.
Stars, she breathed, keep Dai safe until I return. Please.
She reached out into the wide expanse of space, searching for a single flickering light across the galaxy. He was too far away, of course. She knew that.
But she didn’t stop reaching, continuing her search for hours, straining until sleep stole her once again.
7
Ember was stunned as she stood in the doorway upon their arrival. When Stefan had called their destination Avegard Station, Ember had pictured an oversized spaceship. But the city that spread before her was far beyond anything she could have imagined. If this was a station, it had to be the largest one in the universe.
The huge white city spanned as far as she could see, its buildings rising like mountains. Colorful laser ads appeared in the atmosphere overhead, spewing messages about body shaping technology and some entertainment competition. A dull hum rose from the city’s streets as its citizens moved about. The city seemed lit from above, although Ember couldn’t see a single source of light. It had to be artificial.
She took a deep breath, expecting fresh air like she was used to, but all that filled her lungs was the same stale air as on the ship. It made sense. This was a station, after all.
Stefan came up beside her, seeming pleased at her reaction. “It’s an entire planet. They keep the ships beneath the surface for protection.”
Ember frowned. “They protect the ships but leave the people exposed?”
He laughed. “You have a lot to learn about the Em
pire.”
That irritating girl, Eris, appeared at his side. She slid herself between Ember and Stefan, stretching her arms. “It feels so good to walk around. What a dreadful trip. And a whole four days longer than it should have been.” She didn’t glare at Ember, but her point was clear.
Ember moved aside so the other passengers could get by. Her legs were stiff, and the welts from her two-day-old bonds itched, as they’d only been removed this morning. As beautiful as the city was, stepping outside the ship felt like a betrayal. She wished she could march to the cockpit and demand the pilot take her straight home, but the cockpit door was locked. She’d already tested it.
A girl with four knotted ponytails hesitated at the hatch beside Ember, covering her mouth and nose with both hands. She waited a full five seconds before stepping out, then finally took a deep, gasping breath. Freckles flooded her face and arms.
“Are you all right?” Ember asked, confused at the performance.
“Fine. Just testing the air.” She thrust her hand out. “I’m Mariana. My friends call me Mar because I love the ocean. You’re from a water planet, so you get it, right? My planet sent me even though I didn’t want to come.”
Ember returned the handshake and pulled away a second early. She missed everything, not just the ocean. Her village, Dai, Bianca, familiar food. The ship had supplied food packets, but they just weren’t the same. And the light here felt so unnatural. The only piece of home she still owned were her skirt and blouse, and that was only because she’d fallen onto her bed before undressing two nights before. Stars, she was grateful for that now.
“Well, you coming?” Mar asked. “I mean, I’d rather avoid orientation too, but you can’t stay on the ship. They’re going to send it below, and the pressurization would kill you.”
“I—I’m coming.” Ember stepped off the ship, still gazing at the city before them. The ramp turned sharply into another white building with metal accents. The ship’s crew had already begun to clean the passenger area behind her. Had Commander Kane already exited? Where were the guards?
Mar walked down the ramp without looking back. “I’ve only been here once, when I was too young to remember. I heard they originally painted the buildings white to keep them from getting too hot. It used to be a lot closer to the second sun, you know. The artificial atmosphere could only do so much.” She shrugged. “But then the sun’s flares kept messing with their tech, so they moved the station back. I guess they decided to keep the white.”
“They moved it,” Ember murmured, jogging to keep up with Mar. “Just like that.” She kept glancing to the side of the ramp, but it was too steep a drop to jump down. No wonder the guards hadn’t felt it necessary to follow her. There was nowhere for her to go but inside.
“I’ve heard the shopping is great too,” Mar continued. “They have everything here. We’ll have to go sometime. If they ever let us out, that is.”
Shopping. Maybe they had her father’s medicine here. If she found enough of it, she could bring home a year’s worth. Maybe even two. That had to be long enough to get him better.
Focus. Ember didn’t have time to shop for medicine or anything else. Her first priority was to convince them she didn’t belong here. If necessary, she would make it clear she didn’t intend to cooperate so they’d have to send her home. And if that didn’t work, she’d find a way to escape.
Mar went on ahead, chattering about another station she’d visited once. Ember sighed and followed the line of excited recruits—flickers—down the ramp and into the building looming above her.
The corridor inside was white like the outside, with a tall, looming ceiling that left Ember feeling uncomfortable and overexposed.
An unnaturally tall woman in a black uniform met them inside, and Ember immediately recognized her as one of Kane’s guards. Now that Kane wasn’t here to command her attention, Ember took a long look at the woman. Her pink hair was chin length and streaked with black. And her uniform’s trousers fit much too snugly around her rear end.
“Call me Talon,” the woman said in that low voice of hers. “You will follow me.” She turned and walked briskly down the hall, her long strides eating up the ground like a giraffe’s. The crowd of young people followed, some trotting to keep up.
They reached the end of a hallway and found themselves in front of a single door.
“File inside quietly for uniform assignment,” Talon said. “Men to the left, women to the right. Anything else, choose a side. You will wear your official uniform from this moment on, for everyone’s safety. Those caught wearing anything else outside their quarters will be severely punished.”
She looked at the door, and it slid open as if on command. The crowd pushed forward, each flicker determined to be among the first to get their uniform.
Ember hung back, fingering her skirt. This wasn’t good.
“Go on,” Talon said, motioning to the doorway. “Or shall I tell the high commander you’ve decided not to cooperate? I’m sure he can find you a nice, comfy cell.”
Ending up in a prison cell would make getting home to Dai very hard. Ember swallowed and went through the door. Talon followed, and the door immediately shut after her. Automatic doors. She’d heard of such things even in Earth’s history, but seeing them work was disturbing. How did the door know when to close?
She followed the group to the right. When she reached the front, a woman with braided hair greeted her. Finally a hairstyle she recognized. Her tag read Sindi.
“Medium,” the woman said to herself, looking Ember up and down. “May be small in the waist, but you’re tall enough that you’ll need the length. Here.” She retrieved a black bundle from the table behind her. “Put these on.”
Ember took the bundle and separated the pieces. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She didn’t like the color black, but if the fabric was appropriate . . .
She held the trousers up and groaned. “They call this a uniform?”
Sindi turned back to her. “They’re formfitting, but you’d be surprised how soft the fabric is. Very forgiving.” Her nose wrinkled as she eyed Ember’s long skirt.
Ember snorted. “I’m not wearing that.”
Sindi held up the black trousers and examined them. “No holes, no signs of wear. I think you’ll have to explain to me where this aversion is coming from. We could try a large, but it would fall right off those tiny hips of yours.”
“I don’t—I’ve never—”
The woman’s eyes went wide, and she dropped the trousers back onto the table. “You’ve never worn trousers before.”
Ember nodded, relieved that the woman understood.
It began as a long, sharp cough. Sindi’s shoulders shook with the power of it. Then Ember realized the woman was laughing.
“Talon,” she called out through bursts of sound. “Some assistance, please.”
The lanky, pink-haired guard peeked her head through the divider. “Problem?” Ember cringed, even though she was still fully clothed and it was a woman.
“This girl says she’s never worn trousers before. She wants to keep her skirt.”
“She refuses her uniform?”
“I think you could say that, yes.”
Talon glared at Ember. “Put on the uniform, or I’ll drag you into the open and dress you myself. The choice is yours.”
Ember scowled. Nobody would dress her, especially in public. But wearing that . . . that . . . thing was absolutely indecent. “I’m not staying. I’m going home soon.”
Talon shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.” She shoved the curtain aside and began to approach.
Ember growled and snatched the trousers from Sindi’s grasp, glowering at the guard with all her might. Now both Talon and Sindi were laughing.
“The jacket, too,” Sindi said, holding another bundle of black fabric.
Ember changed quickly, her face warming as the two women watched.
The room was nearly empty by the time she emerged from behind the curtain.
Feeling utterly exposed in her new trousers, Ember rubbed her thighs uncomfortably. The fabric was thin, closer to long underwear than anything. Sindi had disappeared, and all Ember could hear was soft whispering from across the room.
A long mirror covered the wall facing her. Ember had seen mirrors plenty of times—her mother had owned one—but never this big. She’d never actually seen her entire body in a mirror before. She almost didn’t dare look, wearing this dreadful outfit that left so little to the imagination. But she couldn’t resist a peek.
In the mirror, a woman with black, flowing hair glowered back at her. The pants hugged her lower body so tightly that pink spread to her cheeks. It gave her face an angry glow. She didn’t look Roma at all.
“Are you sure the women here don’t wear anything over this?” Ember muttered.
“One more thing,” Sindi said, appearing from nowhere. “Records say you’re from one of the outer planets, so I’m required to give you this. Combats the air change and makes sure you don’t spread anything.” She grabbed Ember’s arm, pulled up the sleeve, and stabbed her with something tiny and sharp.
Ember shrieked and scrambled back, but the pain subsided instantly. She stared at her arm. Only the tiniest speck of blood was visible. “What was that?”
The woman put the device into a bag and dropped it into a bin against the wall. “Just an immunization, dear. You don’t have those on Earth either?” That set the woman off in her laughter again.
Ember chose to make her way quickly out of the room rather than argue. It wasn’t until the door whooshed closed behind her that she remembered she’d left her skirt and blouse behind.
She ran back to the door, but it didn’t open. She pounded on it without success, then tried pushing it open. It wouldn’t budge.
“This is the third time you’ve made trouble in twenty minutes,” Talon said, walking up behind her in the narrow corridor. “Is this what we should expect during your stay?”
Ember had to crane her neck to meet the woman’s gaze. “My belongings,” Ember said. “I left them inside.”