Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Novels from Top Fantasy and Science Fiction Authors

by Gwynn White

  He pointed at a ship outside the window, a large Union carrier. “I want that entire ship’s occupants dead. Start with the pilots, then the engineers. I want it out of commission in two minutes.”

  “No, Kane. I will not kill for you again, now or ever.”

  “I hoped you’d say that.” He clicked something in his hand and spoke into it. “Kill everyone on that ship now.”

  The collar on her neck began to burn. Her skin underneath singed and she began to smell burning flesh. But she was so frozen in shock she couldn’t do anything about it. She watched as her internal arm reached up, then forward.

  “Who’s doing this?” she demanded.

  “You. Or, rather, your inner light. It rebelled against my testing machine, but it seems to have taken quite nicely to my updated reader. It took a bit of tweaking to get the signal just right. That’s why I had Talon tune it to you during your training.”

  Ember thought back to the thousands of push-up and sprinting sessions, to those moments when her body had seemed to move on its own. She’d assumed she was just on automatic, but maybe it had been something more.

  She tried to pull her inner arm back, but it was as if she were completely disconnected, and before she knew it, she was grabbing hold of the collective lights on the ship, easily penetrating a few shields as if they were nothing.

  “No,” she hissed, but it was too late. She yanked them all out at once.

  The dots of light in the distance flickered and died. Three hundred and sixty-four at once.

  Her chest seized until it was impossible to breathe.

  Commander Kane stood next to her at the window now, watching as if nothing had happened. “I call it the C.O.L.A.R. 2.0, or Compulsion of Light Anticipation Remote. It takes the decision out of your hands and places it in mine, where it belongs. If only I’d had this twenty years ago when the first flare was under my command.” He turned to face her. “Can you imagine the type of power this brings? It almost makes me more powerful than the emperor.”

  The carrier’s internal lights flickered now. Its emergency power would be turning on soon, which would have kept the thrusters steady for several more hours if it weren’t stranded in the middle of a battle. Without its shields, the ship would easily be hit and destroyed before long.

  “See?” Kane said, a strange eagerness in his voice. “Several hundred at once. With me at the helm, all your mental barriers are removed. Now do the next ship over. In fact, I’ll point, and you kill.”

  Three hundred and sixty-four. Two-thirds the number of people in her village. She’d just killed them all at once, and she hadn’t even meant to.

  He pointed, and the collar heated again, painfully singeing her skin. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as her arm extended again, reaching for the lights flickering in the distance. As she made contact with the terrified occupants of the next ship, she detected several infants among them. Several of their escape pods had left without their maximum passenger load, leaving many of the most vulnerable behind.

  It was done in seconds. Nearly four hundred that time.

  Twelve children.

  Stars, please, Ember pled. You have to stop this. She imagined herself running out of the room and escaping, but her feet seemed just as disconnected as her light. Kane seemed to have complete power.

  Another ship. And another.

  One by one, each vessel went dark. The fifth exploded within seconds, probably meaning she’d killed a mechanic in the middle of refueling or working on the power core. Kane was bouncing on his toes now, looking very much like a child on his birthday.

  I have the right to decide.

  He pointed again, and she extinguished a smaller ship. Eighty-nine that time. The collar burned so severely now she could barely focus on the scene in front of her.

  Her friends had to be waiting near the escape pod by now. Mar could probably be convinced to leave without her, but Stefan never would. He would simply die with her.

  That meant it was time to fight.

  She tried to gain control of her light to check Kane’s shield again, but it didn’t even acknowledge her. Another ship went down—a smaller ship but with over two hundred passengers. A civilian ship.

  Kane pointed again, this time to the largest vessel, which had just emerged from the planet’s atmosphere. “There’s the one. I’ve been waiting for her to show herself.”

  Her consciousness eagerly thrust out a hand in obedience. Ember left it alone, focusing all her concentration on Kane’s shield. Then she summoned a second hand from her light. It flickered and moved slowly, but at least it was something. She probed Kane’s shield, then began to beat it with her fist.

  Kane’s head jerked up, and his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be able to do that.” He adjusted his trigger, then jabbed the button again. Red-hot agony swept through Ember, sending her writhing on the ground again, but this time she was prepared.

  She closed her eyes and began to hum.

  Her consciousness began to lose its grip. She was fading out.

  She directed all her strength to the notes. Every last inch of herself, every cell that still existed, she sent to making the sounds. Burning with anger and pain, she opened her mouth and shouted the lyrics, the words all jumbled and barely coherent.

  Then she summoned her second hand once more, feeling her inner light brighten to a feverish intensity.

  All her frustration and pain and anger and determination swelled in her throat. She released one giant, final yell as she threw herself at the shield.

  It smashed into a thousand pieces.

  Kane’s face went pale. “You can’t—”

  She grabbed the light.

  And yanked.

  The commander jerked, then dropped as if in slow motion, the trigger slipping from his hand and tumbling away as he hit the ground.

  He released a last breath and went still. Ember’s

  pain stopped abruptly. The room closed in on her and she gave in to the precious blackness.

  26

  Ember awoke to a sensation of swaying. She forced her eyes to focus and stared uncomprehendingly at the corridor walls surrounding her. They were moving. Something tightened around her, a familiar smell penetrated her nostrils, and suddenly she felt very much at home.

  “Just relax,” Stefan said somewhat breathlessly. “I’ve got it all worked out.” It was his arms around her. She recognized the feel of them.

  “Stefan?” It came out as a whisper. Not responding, he stopped, looked around the corner, and resumed his long stride.

  They reached a huge metal door. It felt significant somehow, this door. It was open. Stefan set her gently down on the floor. Mar smiled at her from above. “This is no time for sleeping, princess. Your chariot awaits.”

  “Halt!” a voice shouted from down the hall.

  “Get her onto the ship, Mar,” Stefan said quickly. “You’ll make it if you hurry. The coordinates are already entered, but keep radio silence for the first ten minutes or so. Your ship is supposed to be unmanned. And make sure you get her to a medic, all right?”

  “You there!” the guard called, closer now.

  This was wrong. Panic welled up Ember’s throat. “Stefan?”

  His warm gaze settled on her. “I was meant to help you, Ember. That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  “No,” she whimpered, sitting up. It was all coming back. “I’m not going without you.”

  “Yes, you are.” He slammed his fist on the Close button, and the door began to move.

  “Doors closing,” an automated warning announced. The escape pod.

  The guard stopped and took aim, but Ember punched his inner light as she’d done with the others, sending him tumbling to the ground. She struggled to her feet, legs shaking, and searched for a button to stop the doors from closing. “There’s got to be another way. We can figure this out.”

  The doors continued to close. Only Stefan’s upper half was visible now. “I tried to disarm
the theft feature, but it didn’t work. It has to be done manually, from the corridor panel. You won’t get far otherwise.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t leave without you.”

  He sent her a pleading look. “Trust me, Ember. This is exactly what my grandmother said would happen. It’s an honor to make this sacrifice for you.”

  “Stefan—” She tried pulling the doors back, but they were too strong. Her body trembled too violently to try and leap through. She could barely support her own weight.

  “Don’t. This is what the stars decreed, Ember. I just wish we could have been together in the end.”

  He reached in, grabbed her face, and kissed her fiercely. He pulled away at the very last second, jerking his head and arms back just in time.

  She reached for him. “Please, don’t do this!”

  But the giant door closed with a huge metallic clang.

  Then silence.

  Ember threw herself at the door and began to pound on it, but Mar grabbed her arm. “You can’t open it now. Safety feature. C’mon, we can still make it if we hurry. Once they stun Stefan, we’re on our own.” She pulled Ember into the pod and clasped Ember’s harness as if she were a parent buckling a small child in for safety.

  Stefan. She still felt the warmth of his kiss on her lips. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The stars had brought them together.

  “Initiating,” Mar said, and the door closed just as the pressure changed outside of the craft. “Launching in three, two . . .”

  Shouts on the other side of the door made Ember tear at her harness, but it was too late to turn back now. She sensed three lights confronting Stefan and ripped them out, leaving him alone. She could do that much for him at least.

  Ember had left a huge part of herself on the other side of that door. And now the Union was going to blow up the ship, and Stefan with it.

  “Maybe if we find Amai quickly, we can try to change her mind,” Mar said, obviously trying to cheer her up. “Or maybe even postpone it until the other ships are down. I mean, you already killed the commander, so what’s the rush?”

  They spent several long minutes silently staring out the window as the Empire carrier grew smaller behind them.

  Ember craned her neck to keep the vessel within sight as long as possible. If she locked her gaze on it and refused to let go, nothing could happen to it.

  Stefan—such an idiotic, frustratingly courageous thing for him to do. He’d been so firm about his grandmother’s theory and his role in her supposed quest. Stefan was so much like Dai in that way. The stars are never wrong.

  But Ember wasn’t the girl Stefan thought she was. That alone was proof that the stars didn’t direct her future. She did. And she refused to sit back and watch Stefan die.

  Ember closed her eyes, let her body relax, and reached out internally. The lights began to appear in clusters. She drew closer until she could distinguish one side from the other. Then she focused her attentions on Stefan’s ship, searching for Amai’s friends. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest with each second that passed. This was taking too long. It would take precious minutes to find them and stop their terrible mission.

  She released a long, focused breath. Then she sent a blow toward the entire ship at once.

  It was like fanning a flame. Hundreds of lights lit up brightly for a moment, then went low. A few flickered out, but most wavered only slightly. She hoped Stefan was one of the latter.

  Ember worked on several more ships, rendering the occupants unconscious. Two Union vessels noticed the Empire ships’ odd courses and prepared to fire, but Ember had prepared for that possibility. She sent them a light blow, hoping the other Union ships would get the message.

  They seemed to understand. Amazingly, the front line broke as the fighters pulled back. And even more remarkable was a sight Ember hadn’t dreamed she’d ever see.

  The Empire ships were retreating.

  Waves of people were dropping at once, hundreds per Empire ship. Ember could sense their terror from here. The fallen would return to consciousness eventually, but the battle would be over by then. She had created a temporary halt to the war.

  “Amai,” Mar said into the radio, eyeing Ember with a smile. “There’s been a change of plan.”

  27

  I still can’t believe they left,” Mar said, sipping a nutrition packet. “The Empire never retreats.”

  They sat in a small gathering room in a temporary shelter not far from Ember’s village—or what was left of it. Amai had refused to answer Ember’s questions about her people, telling her to wait until a transport arrived and she could see for herself. She could barely sit still.

  “It was ingenious, what you did,” Amai said, smiling at Ember. “Although I’m not sure how long they’ll stay away. We don’t have much time.”

  Ember shifted in her chair, the packet in her hand untouched. She’d arrived happy to have Stefan alive, only to receive the worst possible news.

  Dai was gone. He had died two days before. If Ember had left when Amai wanted her to, she could have said good-bye.

  It left a hollow feeling inside of her, where her heart had once been.

  “Your gravity is so intense here,” Mar moaned. “And depressing. How did humans live on this planet for so long?”

  “It wasn’t always like this,” Amai said. “I’ve seen photos.”

  Ember stood. “I want to see my village now.”

  “I’ve told you. We’re just waiting for the transport.”

  “You’re waiting for the transport. I’m walking.” Ember jerked the door open and plunged into the heavy sunlight, which instantly warmed her in her thick black jacket. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.

  The two women stared after her. “But it’s six kilometers, and—” Amai said.

  Slamming the door behind her, Ember missed whatever the woman was going to say next. She faced forward, noting the launchpad in the distance where tourist shuttles had once landed. No ships stood there now. Instead, a plume of white smoke rose lazily into the sky.

  Just past that was the Roma market and her stall, she knew. And even farther beyond lay her village. Home. She was so close.

  She began to run.

  Ember knew the truth when she saw the market. Tables overturned, chairs destroyed. Blanket dividers torn and strewn about. Birds hopped about, exploring the empty market like it was a new playground. The most disturbing thing was the plastic shoes scattered on the ground. The shoemaker had left his wares behind. Not a good sign.

  She put on a burst of speed and raced up the hill, but she already knew what she would find. Curls of lazy white smoke still rose from the top of it.

  Her village was a smoking wreckage, its previous buildings now piles of rubble. Not a structure had been spared. They’d even downed the well house and kicked it to pieces. The worst of it began as she picked her way farther into the village among piles of rubble that were charred and black. She could barely tell where she was now.

  Her boot brushed a misshapen log, and she stepped back to examine it, then recoiled in horror. A body. She couldn’t tell by the shape whether it was a man or a woman. One arm protruded as though the poor soul had been reaching for something. Or someone maybe.

  The Empire had swept through here with their gas torches, but it was hard to tell how long ago. Commander Kane had obviously seen Ember’s village as a loose end, a possible breeding ground for flares. A threat that had to be eliminated now that the Empire was near. Not people but liabilities.

  A game piece that had to be swept off the board.

  Her feet moved of their own accord to where her home had once stood. Just like everything else, it was a pile of charred material. She could still see it there in spirit—its narrow doorway to the right with the broken window. The courtyard to the left. Her hens clucking their welcome as she stepped inside. The table her father had so meticulously carved with flowers on its legs. Her family’s image frozen forever in a stained-gl
ass frame. It existed only in her mind now.

  She scrambled to the pile, fell to her knees, and plunged her hands into the wreckage. She tore a broken piece of wood off the top and threw it, then another. Her arms grew weary as she worked frantically through the pile, searching for what she knew she would never find.

  “Your father’s body was buried with the others,” Amai said as she stepped out of the transport behind her. Mar sat with a stunned expression, her eyes down. There was no driver. “He died in our shelter. I promised you we would protect him as best we could.”

  Ember stood, her knees sore from the sharpness of the debris beneath her. “And yet he’s dead.”

  “He was sick, far beyond our help. I daresay he was beyond anyone’s help. Your being here wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “You’re wrong! I was getting him medicine. He would have pulled through. I know it.” She kicked a piece of metal and winced when it didn’t budge.

  “He showed us his pill bottle. It wasn’t the right kind, Ember. The medics think he had cancer, and your medicine was for pneumonia.”

  “It was helping. I know it was.”

  She sighed. “There’s something else.” Amai stepped down from the vehicle and approached Ember, handing her a square device. “This is really what we were waiting for, not the transport. I wanted you to see it first, but . . .” She shrugged. “Anyway, this seemed really important to him. Just tap the screen.”

  Ember reverently fingered the tablet. Her father’s face was frozen in a smile, much like the stained-glass image of him. But here his eyes looked sunken and oversized, his skin sallow. He barely looked like himself except for the smile. Could he have changed that much in three weeks?

  She tapped the screen, not daring to breathe.

  “My dear Ember,” her father said in Common, grinning. “If you’re watching this, I’m dead. It’s easy enough for me to accept because I knew this was coming, but I know it will be difficult for you. There’s so much I want to say and not nearly enough time to say it. I need several more years, I think.” His grin faded, and he swallowed.