by Gwynn White
You rejected Stefan, she reminded herself. You have no one to blame but yourself.
She was the fourth flicker to be called up by Talon. “Ember Gypsy.”
“Getting closer,” Ember muttered. The guard opened the door, and she slipped inside. Instead of shutting softly behind her, it slammed with a metallic clang. It was lined.
The lights were dim, like in yesterday’s interview room. A tall machine much like a booth stood in the center of the square room, its opening barely wide enough to admit one person. A dark, one-way mirror lined the far wall, and a guard stood at attention to the left.
She reached out mentally to feel who sat on the other side of the mirror. It was difficult to penetrate the specially-lined walls, but she managed to sense six lights in a small booth, all officials, none of them Kane.
“Ember Gypsy,” a woman said on the speaker. “Step inside the machine.”
“Roma, not gypsy,” Ember said automatically. “And first I want to know what it does.”
She could sense the woman’s light increase in brightness. Anger. Did the other flickers really obey so blindly? It could be a deathtrap, for all she knew.
“It assesses your abilities,” the official finally said. “It’s perfectly safe, I assure you. Step inside.”
The guard looked ready to toss her in. She glared at him as she slid into the narrow machine.
The machine whirred as the door closed, and then she was left in complete darkness.
“Please wait,” the official’s voice said. It was more distant now, fed into a smaller speaker near Ember’s right ear. “Someone is walking into the room now. This person will stand in front of the machine. You’ll reach out and try to read his or her immediate future. What you see will be transmitted for everyone else to watch.”
Such incredible technology. She was awed by the possibilities until she realized what the Empire would want to use it for.
She sensed another light entering, someone entirely different from the watching officials. Another woman, unfamiliar.
“Whenever you’re ready, Ember.”
She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, but the machine made it difficult to grasp the light. Too much interference. They were probably testing her strength. She mentally reached for it again only to have her hand move right through the flame. Ember frowned, then released a long sigh and began to hum her song, the music helping her to focus and to forget where she was.
She reached out once more, and the vision came.
Liza Hosler trembled in her father’s embrace. She must be strong like he wanted. She blinked back the threatening tears and stood straight, just like they’d practiced.
“You be good,” her father said as he pulled back to examine her. “I’ll come visit you soon.”
“When you’re on leave?”
He winked. “Of course. What other lovely lady would I visit?”
Her eyes were growing blurry with moisture, and she blinked more rapidly. “I’m afraid of that school. Please don’t send me there.”
“Oh, honey.” He pulled her in against his chest, holding her tight and resting his chin on her head. She took in the scent of him. It felt like home. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the safest place for you right now. That’s why I have to go—to make home safe for you again.”
“And then you’ll come back.”
“Absolutely.” He kissed her forehead and stood. “They’ll take you to your new room, and you’ll get to meet Miss Borringer. She taught me when I was your age. I think you’ll really like her. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice barely quivered that time.
Ember shuffled to another memory and let the vision fade. A new one surfaced.
The letters on the shiny metal walls all ran together in her mind. Sheet after sheet of them, name upon name. All words representing lives taken much too soon. There was a reason she never visited the memorial planet. She couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude of it all.
There. One metal sheet read “The Heroes of the Battle of Narrad.”
She filled her lungs slowly, frozen where she stood. She didn’t have to look. Maybe it would be better not to know. She could pretend he was still at war somewhere, that he’d never been taken by the enemy. That he would be home soon.
Her unconscious mind took control before she could stop it, scanning the names until one seemed a hundred times larger than the rest.
“Benjamin Hosler.”
The tears should have come then, hot and full of a decade of pain, loneliness, and uncertainty. That was what she’d expected from this visit. But now that she knew the truth, there was nothing. Just a deadness inside. She’d left her tears behind in a childhood that no longer existed.
Ember heard a strange sound, the mix of a gasp and a sob. Then the official’s voice spoke again. “You’re upsetting the host, Ember. We want the future, not the past.”
They didn’t understand. When she made a connection, she experienced everything. It was all-encompassing. She couldn’t move half a finger without affecting the other half. They were all parts of the same being.
She ignored her irritation and went deeper into the less-certain light, the part that flickered and popped like a dying fire.
Liza Hosler stood in front of the machine, shuffling her feet uncertainly. She had volunteered to do this because it meant a break from the shipping job she hated, and at first it had been interesting enough. Memories she’d long since buried flashed across a screen on the outside of the machine. But now, as she watched the machine before her begin to glow, she regretted her decision.
The white metal pulsed as if with an inner light. She could see the outline of a person inside, like a shadow in front of a flame. The screen began to flash, and lines appeared. This hadn’t happened with the previous three candidates she’d hosted.
Liza looked at the mirror impatiently. Any second now the officials would intervene. They had promised to keep her safe from the flickers. But they were certainly taking their time. The machine had begun to turn a warm orange color now.
“I think—” the official began, but she was interrupted by a terrible noise. Liza watched, stunned, as the screen’s glass began to crack.
“Stop,” the official cried over the speaker. “Gypsy, stop this instant.”
The screen’s crack began to spread like a web over the glass. The images ended, but the machine continued to glow. It was a soft pink now.
“Stop it,” the official shouted. “End this now!”
“Now!” the woman cried.
Ember’s eyes flew open. Her entire body felt like it was melting beneath her clothing, and her exposed skin burned. She yelped and shoved at the booth’s tiny door, but it wouldn’t open.
Voices sounded from the room outside as Ember sucked the overheated air into her lungs. What had just happened?
The door finally burst open, and a wave of precious, cool air washed over her. She stumbled out, falling to the floor at a guard’s feet. All six officials gaped at her from the protection of the far doors. Even the woman she’d just read, Liza, stared at Ember as if she were the devil incarnate.
“What was that?” a man with white hair muttered from the doorway.
“That wasn’t the future,” another woman pointed out. “Seeing the present isn’t what we’re looking for.”
“Plenty of flickers have seen the present. None of them has broken the machine like that. I mean, look at it.”
Ember turned and choked. The metal booth barely stood upright, it’s walls melted as if made of wax. She rose to her feet and stumbled away, panting.
The female official glowered at her. “This machine is incredibly expensive and difficult to replace. Tell me what you did and why.”
It would definitely need to be replaced. It looked like a partially melted candle. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I—I don’t know what happened.”
The officials exchanged a look.
“It�
��s obvious,” the first man said. “She got inside the wiring somehow.”
Another official spoke up. “Impossible. The wiring panel is on the outside, near the back.”
“Well, gypsies are good with their hands. I wouldn’t put it past her to damage the machine on purpose. She’s been nothing but trouble since she arrived—”
“Take her to the medical bay,” the woman interrupted. “Have them treat her burns. Then lock her in her quarters. We’ll see what Commander Kane says about this.”
16
Silence was a sound in and of itself, Ember decided. To a race who liked to congregate, it had to be specifically sought. She hadn’t had much of it growing up, not with her neighbors sleeping just feet from her head and chickens clucking throughout the house. She’d grown up surrounded by the sounds of her father’s snoring and her mother’s whispers and quiet breakfast preparation as she slept.
That was what bothered her most about this place. The quiet. It was unnatural.
As unnatural as a Roma girl melting a machine.
She’d returned from the medical bay about an hour ago. The salve on her burned skin was already nearly gone, having taken most of the pain with it. Thankfully the burns were the worst on her exposed skin and she’d been wearing her jacket and trousers, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. No, it wasn’t the burns that bothered her.
It was the way everyone had looked at her afterward.
The officials must have explained that the machine was down, because the flickers were sent back to their quarters to await further instructions. A few still lingered in the corridor outside her room. Their looks of disgust and wariness told her they’d figured out that Ember was the one who’d broken the machine. Stefan was nowhere to be seen.
She hadn’t done it on purpose. Had she? What would this mean for her escape plan?
A soft knock sounded at her door. “Enter,” Ember called out.
Mar walked in, arms folded across her chest. “We need to talk.”
Great. Ember wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was because you were the last one in there. You broke phase two with your mind.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done? That machine is how they place flickers, Ember. It analyzes our strengths and puts us in the right program. You just brought testing week to a screeching halt while they order a new machine from High Commander Kane’s facility on Terantine. We’ll be stuck here a few days longer, maybe even another week.”
A week. She could find a cargo ship and pilot in that time, especially if they set the flickers free in the city again.
Mar got right in her face. “You don’t look sorry at all.”
“Mar,” Ember began. “I don’t know what happened. I certainly wasn’t trying to slow you down—”
“No, listen to me. There’s just one thing I want to know.” Mar plopped herself into the chair opposite Ember, then a huge grin spread across her face. “How did you do it?”
“What?”
“No, really. It was brilliant. Did you start a fire in there or something? Because, honestly, I think it was the cleverest trick ever. I can’t believe you pulled it off.”
Now Ember was really confused. “You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be upset? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
She certainly hadn’t acted like it so far, but Ember wasn’t about to disagree. “So you don’t like being a flicker.”
“Oh, I don’t mind that part. It’s just the whole being-used-by-the-Empire thing I don’t want. Sure it would be nice to be the first Olvenack to pass. I’m just not so sure about what comes after training.” Mar examined her nails. “Nobody ever talks about that.”
Ember sat straight up now, not bothering to hide her excitement. “So you want to escape too.”
“Escape?” She snorted. “Nobody escapes an Empire station. That would be suicide.”
Ember sat back. “Oh.”
“The other flickers are so mad at you right now,” Mar said with a chuckle. “Be sure to watch your back next time you go to the cafeteria. Eris went bright purple when she heard what you did. You’d think you melted her family instead of a stupid machine.”
“Is Stefan angry?” Ember asked.
Mar’s smile froze, then she turned on Ember, her expression guarded. “Stefan? Why do you ask?”
“Forget it.”
Mar’s eyes were boring into her now. “You think he’s yours now because he bought you a drink on the rec deck, huh?”
Resentment sprang up inside Ember, and she wanted to tell Mar about the moments they’d shared—about Empyrean and the music and his grandmother’s vision. But it didn’t matter. Mar was right—he wasn’t hers. She needed to get him off her mind before she accidentally fulfilled something she shouldn’t.
“I’ve loved Stefan for years,” Mar said, staring at the ground. “I know. I shouldn’t have fallen for the guy every other girl wanted, and I only saw him occasionally when I trained at the station. But last year we finally became friends. He finally saw me.” She glared at Ember. “And then you came. Now he looks right through me like I’m not even there. And you—he looks like he’s never seen a woman before when he looks at you.”
Now Ember didn’t know what to say. A mixture of giddiness and dread fought for dominance within her. “I think you’re seeing things.”
“Then you’re not paying attention.” Mar stood and headed for the door. “Well, if you’re going to escape, I guess you have a few extra days to do it now. I’ll see you at dinner. Or not.”
Ember stared out the window, her legs crossed on her bed as Mar exited. Then the room was quiet once again. The familiar whoosh of the closing door didn’t sound, however.
“Close door,” Ember muttered.
“I don’t think so,” a deep voice said.
Ember turned to find Talon standing in the doorway with several guards. She motioned for them to enter, and they filled the room in seconds, surrounding Ember where she sat on her bed, weapons raised.
Alarmed, Ember raised her arms in surrender. Had Kane decided to incarcerate her after all?
Talon followed the guards in, then stepped aside to reveal someone behind her.
Ember nearly collapsed in shock. “Ambrose?”
The smuggler stood there, for once looking a bit uncertain. “What is it you need again?”
“Confirmation,” Talon told him. “Is this her?”
“Yep, that’s her.”
Ember couldn’t breathe. A huge weight gripped her chest as the reality of it all crashed into her mind.
Ambrose had betrayed her. He wasn’t on his way to Earth at all.
Dai’s medicine would never be delivered.
“Why?” Ember burst out. “How could you?”
Ambrose smirked. “You never saw it, did you, gypsy girl?”
Ember didn’t play his game. She just glared at him, waiting.
“I’m a seeker, all right?” He shrugged. “When tourists returned from your market raving about the girl who told the future, I decided to check it out and pose as a smuggler—waited until I was certain before sending the tip to High Commander Kane.”
He’d turned her in. Twice. This man was the reason Ember was here, hundreds of light years away from Dai and her home. She had no medicine to send home now and no money to buy more. Even if she managed to escape, no cargo pilot would smuggle her out for free.
Her hands curled into fists, and before she knew what had happened, she had launched herself at the man.
“Whoa there,” Talon said, her long fingers grabbing Ember’s collar and yanking her back before she could make contact. Ember fought to free herself from the woman’s iron grip, but it was no use. “You may leave now, seeker.”
The traitor tipped an imaginary hat and shot Ember an amused smile as he left. How much had he been paid t
o turn her in? A few credits? Hundreds? He’d gotten more than two hundred from her on top of that, and he’d probably resold Dai’s medicine by now.
“Illegal shipping transaction,” Talon said. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be arresting you for, but effective nonetheless. Say good-bye to your luxury quarters.” Within seconds, Talon had Ember’s arms locked together in front of her again. Her burned skin rubbed painfully against the metal clasps. Talon shoved her toward the door.
Ember couldn’t sleep. They’d put her in a solitary cell, but she wasn’t really alone. The tiny, cramped room was lined with glass to prevent privacy. The toilet and sink were a hard, unforgiving metal, and the bed was a cold steel covered with a thin mattress that may as well have not been there at all. They hadn’t even given her a pillow.
But the cold metal was the perfect metaphor for the past three days on this station—hard, impersonal, and unbending. Devoid of any warmth whatsoever.
The true reason she couldn’t sleep, though, was that her mind kept running through the events of the day.
She slumped down onto her bed again, tired of thinking. She didn’t belong here. Her people at home didn’t like her much, but at least they didn’t hate her. There was just a wariness there, a lack of understanding. They’d believed what Babik and his father said about her. He had called Ember a killer, told them she was the reason his two friends were dead.
He was right.
From the perspective of her people, Babik’s unrelenting determination to marry her wasn’t all that unusual. Several other girls had been kidnapped and forced to marry their kidnappers, and none of them had killed anybody. In fact, most of the other Roma would have been relieved to have Ember claimed at last, no matter how it was done.