by Frankie Rose
Damn it. I allowed myself to be distracted. I renew the shield I’ve erected to protect myself, just as Erika taught me, gathering all of my strength and applying it to the task, determined to keep him out. He must not be allowed to gain that kind of power over me. I can’t allow it. If I do, surely it will be easier for him to sneak inside my head the next time he feels like invading my privacy.
Jass’ laughter turns weary. “Your power’s too raw. Untamed and untrained. With enough time, I’ll always break through, Reza. I already know the question they sent you in here to ask me. They want me to join them. Help them beat back the Construct. They want me to save the day.”
It’s infuriating that he’s already discovered this information. I was going to try and feel him out, to see if he has absolutely any conscience whatsoever before gently prodding him about his loyalties to the Construct. “Don’t worry,” I snap. “I already know you’re not a save-the-day kind of guy.”
“I was once.” He lunges, grabbing hold of me by the wrist. He spins my arm over, and there, purple and ugly under the stark white glare from the emergency light overhead, is the scar I made when I tried to kill myself back on the Invictus. Specifically, the time when Jass intervened and prevented me from taking my own life. “I remember these too, y’know. So unsettling. I was in the middle of a briefing with the elders and my stomach turned over in the strangest way. I felt…unbalanced. I knew something was wrong. I knew exactly where to go to find you. I knew that if I didn’t come to you immediately, I would feel that same imbalanced sensation forever. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Did you feel me coming to find you? Did you feel the moment everything shifted?”
I wrench my arm free, holding onto my wrist under the table, clutching at it like he just snapped the bone. My pulse is out of control, fumbling all over the place, barely pumping my blood around my body. My head is spinning, my chest impossibly tight. “I didn’t feel a thing,” I whisper. “I was dying. I was barely conscious. I’d lost so much blood, I wasn’t even coherent.”
Tutting under his breath, Jass stares at me like he can see right through me. His hair falls in thick, almost black waves down to his shoulders. His eyes are fierce as he scans my face, and another frigid, terrifying judder slams through my body. “Liar.” His voice is hushed and quiet, but to my ears it sounds like a death knoll. “You’re hiding from yourself as much as you’re hiding from me. One of these days, you’re going to have to face the truth. You know it as well as I do. Your life will depend on it.”
My throat feels like it’s closing up. I get to my feet, my legs shaking, barely able to hold me up as I turn and hurry from the room. The door slams closed behind me, and for a moment it’s all I can do to stand there, leaning against the wall, trying not to pass out. Because he’s right. I felt it. No matter how badly I wanted to deny it, that day when Jass came to save my life on board the Invictus, I did feel the moment everything changed.
And…I liked it.
FOURTEEN
REZA
BACKWARDS
“You need to go back in there. You need to convince him. Did you try and enter his mind like we practiced?” Over the past few days, when I’ve trained with Erika, she’s been consistently polite. Reserved even. Right now, she’s neither of those things. She paces up and down beneath the canopy of stars projected high overhead on the cavern’s roof, wringing her hands. “There’s so little time, Reza. We’re working against the clock. I saw the attack happening during a double eclipse. The next double eclipse to occur takes place in less than a month. I know this is far from easy, but the galaxy hangs in the balance. Sacrifices must be made. I’m sorry to have to push you toward this, to him, but the more information we can glean from him, the better our chances of surviving what’s to come.”
Sitting at one of the consoles, Col clears his throat. “She gets it, Mother. We all do.” He sounds sad. I’ve never known Col to be anything but happy and carefree, but it’s clear something heavy hangs on him. Darius treated him for his injuries at some point last night, and now he barely shows any signs of discomfort at all. There is still a bottomless pain within him, though. Something that runs far deeper than his broken ribs and his bruised muscles. He gets to his feet, and Erika watches as her son approaches her. He cups her face in his hands, and the tension that’s been winding her tight since I came to give the report of my meeting with Jass seems to dissipate a little. She sighs, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know what a daunting task this must seem, Reza. I know you’re trying to meet the challenges we’ve set you head on. I apologize for the burden we’ve placed on your shoulders. This is all…a lot.”
That’s quite the understatement. The people of this planet have been good to me, though. Since the day I crash-landed here, they’ve watched over me. Made sure the marauders living in the dunes haven’t bothered me. And when I found my feet and learned how to fend for myself, they didn’t abandon me. In hindsight, that may well have something to do with my ties to Jass Beylar, that they’ve been watching me to see what new information I might be able to shed on the situation that is unfolding now, but at the end of the day these are good people. Kind. Gentle. Peaceful. They wouldn’t put me in a dangerous position unless it was absolutely necessary.
“I’m willing to go back in, Erika. I’m willing to keep trying. I don’t think…” I sigh, failing to hide my frustration. “It seems strange, but I don’t think he wants to hurt me.” Admitting this is a bizarre thing. Even now, with Jass so close at hand, my body feels like it’s humming with energy, nervous and ready to run. Every part of me is screaming, demanding that I find the first shuttle leaving Pirius and make sure I’m damn well on it. But, oddly, the moment I consider that as an option, it feels as if I’m being physically torn in two. I want to flee. I want to stay. Sitting there, across from him, it felt like I knew him. I was attracted to him in a very dangerous way. That should not have been the case.
Col places a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Jass is a force to be reckoned with, there’s no arguing about that. But there’s something about him. He’s not…” He pauses, frowning, as if he’s searching for the right thing to say. “Is it possible that Jass…that if he hadn’t been kept under lock and key by the Construct...” He huffs heavily down his nose, shaking his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, do you think he can change? Is there any reason for us to believe he can relinquish his Construct training and see the galaxy from another point of view?”
A serene, sad expression flits across Erika’s face. She covers her son’s hand with her own, squeezing it, and a wave of envy floods me. Erika may not be Col’s blood relative, but it’s easy to recognize the love that radiates out from her whenever she looks at him. He’s her son. It’s that simple. My own mother’s face is little more than a blurred smudge of color and light to me now. I was far too young the last time I saw her to recall her with any clarity. If I had brothers and sisters back on my home planet, I’ll never know. I envy the closeness Col and Erika share beyond belief. I have lived a lifetime of solitude, not knowing what it would be like to share a bond like that. And the loss of it, though never having experienced it, is heartbreaking.
“A ship can fly backwards, son,” Erika says. “But it was still designed to press forward, all the same. I don’t know if it’s possible for Jass Beylar to be something else other than he is. A change like that would be difficult to accomplish. When death, violence and suffering come naturally to a creature, kindness, sacrifice and life itself no longer seem to exist.”
FIFTEEN
REZA
DREAMSCAPE
I have sand in my eyes. A storm is building on the horizon, and for some reason I’m walking toward it. My shirt is slick with sweat, my muscles protesting as I steadily climb up the tallest dune I have ever seen. It towers over the surrounding landscape, a steep, grueling incline that I’m intent upon summiting. I’m driven forward, or rather I am pulled forward, one foot planting itself in the loose sand after the other. My lungs are burning w
ith the effort of the climb. It would be nice to sit down and take a rest for a moment, take a drink of water from my canteen, but my body simply won’t allow the respite. An unsettling urgency draws me forward. An urgency I can’t resist.
At the top of the dune, I see what lies beyond: a broken craft, shattered to pieces and scattered over miles, black, acrid smoke rising from the wreckage in thick, oily tendrils that reach up to the darkening sky. There’s nothing down there in that crash site except loss and pain. I can sense that, and yet I stumble down the other side of the sand dune, heading right for it.
I don’t drink. I don’t pause. I don’t rest. I push onward through the sand, wrapping my head in a scarf as the winds start to pick up and grains of sand begin to buffet my face. Hours pass. At least it feels like hours pass.
I’m panting and exhausted by the time I make it to the first piece of the wreckage. I don’t stop to inspect it. What I am searching for will not be found there. Instead I continue on. On and on, with no end in sight.
Finally, I reach the largest piece of debris and I know I’ve arrived at my destination. I collapse to the ground, exhaustion overwhelming me. I lay there panting, struggling to catch my breath.
“Took you long enough,” a voice says. I recognize the voice right away. There’s no mistaking it. I’m relieved. I prop myself up onto my elbows, and Jass is sitting there in the sand, his back leaning against the main hold area of a once sleek, phenomenally expensive raptor.
His clothes are simple and black, his hair swept back out of his face, though still wavy and wild, as if it refuses to be tamed. His eyes are even lighter than they were earlier—a soft, gentle hue of brown and gold, melted together to create a the richest of caramels. He looks tired, though not exhausted and near to passing out, as I’m sure I look.
“I was expecting you a long time ago,” Jass says softly.
“Looks like I keep disappointing you.” I struggle around the words, my throat raw and dry. I don’t panic when Jass rises. My fear is there, like a fire raging beneath a blanket, and yet I can’t really feel it. I watch him as he approaches and my pulse remains steady. Unaffected. His gait is easy and confident, completely untroubled, and something uncomfortable stirs in my chest. Something…unexpected. It comes back to me slowly—all of the times I’ve met with him like this before. So many times. He’s kissed me. He’s held me. He’s fucked me, and I’ve loved every second of it. Gods, am I losing my mind? Am I making this up in my head somehow? No, it’s just not possible. The details, all of the conversations we’ve shared. The amount of times he’s pressed his mouth to mine, slid himself inside me, stroked my hair afterwards—I can’t have made all of that up. It’s real. It’s been real for a very long time.
Jass sits down in the sand opposite me, crossing his legs; he removes the water canteen from the small leather bag I’ve carried here and he opens it up, holding it out to me. “Drink. If you don’t, you’ll die.”
He’s all business, his tone flat. There’s a hard edge to his eyes that makes me drink. The water is icy as it flows down my throat, and I practically moan with pleasure. Jass rocks back on his heels, smiling as he watches me. Shame rushes at me, taking me by surprise. I shouldn’t be feeling that twist of affection for him in my gut. I shouldn’t want him to reach out and hold me. I shouldn’t need him, the way I need him right now.
“You must have thought it was hilarious, sitting there across from me in that room, with me not remembering any of this,” I mutter.
Jass clasps his hands together, hooking his elbows around his knees to stop himself from toppling backward. “Not particularly. I wanted to touch you. I wanted to kiss you. You’d have had me shot.” He looks around, his head angled back as he peers up at the sky, squinting into the light. The suns overhead are growing dimmer as the storm approaches, blotting out more and more of the sky, but they’re still bright enough to make the stark white sand almost impossible to look at. “I’ve decided I don’t like this planet,” Jass continues. “It’s utterly unremarkable. No redeemable features whatsoever.”
“The Pirians are good people. They’ve made the past few cycles bearable for me.”
Jass’ gaze returns to me, his eyes locking onto my face. He’s expressionless. Still. Frozen in place. A burning intensity roils inside him, just below his surface. I can feel it. I know it. I recognize it. The tumultuous emotion inside Jass calls to me, beckoning me to lose myself within it, so it can embrace me too. Hearing that he wanted to touch me, to kiss me when he saw me earlier…just knowing he felt that way is making my head spin. I can’t stop staring at him.
“I don’t know a lot about the galaxy, Reza,” he says. “I only know what the Construct has shown me, and that isn’t much. They’re very selective about the information they choose to share with their people. But I’m no fool. I know there’s more. Their narrow view of life has served its purpose in some ways. I’m strong. I’m resilient. I’m capable, and I’m determined.” He angles his head to one side, narrowing his eyes, studying me so fiercely that it feels like my skin is on fire. “Can you say the same?”
I lift my chin in defiance, staring right back at him, refusing to look away. If he thinks he can cow me into submission, he’s got another thing coming. “Yes. I can say the same. I’m all of those things and more. I’m an orphan. I have no heritage. No home. I have no wealth, and no power, but it would be a mistake to underestimate me. I fight hard when I’m backed into a corner.”
A flicker of amusement passes over his face. I’ve entertained him. “I’d never make such a grave error,” he says, his tone loaded with sarcasm. “But who said anything about fighting?”
My hands tighten around the water canteen I’m still holding onto. “I’m no fool either, Jass. You want my energy.”
“If that were true, I would have ended this bullshit as soon as you stepped inside that ready room. I would have taken it and killed every single one of those seers. I could be back onboard The Nexus already, sleeping comfortably in my own bed if that were my purpose for coming here.” He splays his fingers wide, showing me his palms. “And yet here we are. Talking like civilized people. Like reunited friends. Like lovers.”
“None of this is real. And we aren’t any of those things, Jass. You’re a murderer. You’ve killed hundreds of people.”
“Thousands,” he corrects. “I’ve killed more people than you can imagine. I don’t even remember their faces anymore.”
How can he say something like that without a hint of remorse? Not a glimmer of emotion. So many people, all gone, all dead by his hand. How can he not care about that? How can their deaths mean absolutely nothing to him?
Jass smiles an odd, twisted smile that contorts his features. “You’re pulling back. Retreating from me. I can feel your mind slipping away. I’m not a monster, Reza. I’m a pragmatist. I recognize the way of the universe. There will always be those with power and those without it. Those who have none will continually strive for it. And those who have it will accumulate more without even trying. I didn’t ask to be more than anyone else. I didn’t ask to be poked and prodded in a Construct lab for cycles. I didn’t chase down this particular future over any other. I was dealt a hand of cards, and I’ve been playing them ever since. You would have done the same thing in my shoes.”
My reaction is instant and violent. “I would not! The unspeakable things you’ve done…I would never—”
Jass holds up his right hand, cutting me off. “Never is a long time. Until you’ve lived a day in my shoes, you really have no idea what you would or wouldn’t do.” There’s a cold, hollow, lonely edge to his words that sends a shiver through me. “And let’s not forget,” he says, “you were a member of the Construct once upon a time. Can you honestly tell me you never killed anyone? Can you honestly say you didn’t follow the orders you were given, because not following them would have meant death to you?”
Gods. My stomach rolls, the sickening weight of buried guilt rearing its ugly head. For a very long t
ime now, I’ve told myself that I can’t be held accountable for the people who died because of me. I was brain washed. I wasn’t myself. I was a part of a well-oiled, vast, huge machine that would have kept turning with or without me. The people who died at the end of my weapon would have died no matter what. Some other Construct soldier would have killed them if I hadn’t. And I escaped as soon as I got the chance. I threw down my weapon, and I refused to participate any more. That has to mean something, right?
I tell myself these things but late at night, when I’m fighting to fall asleep, I do remember the faces of the people I’ve killed. I am plagued by the memory of their fear and terror as they fled before me, and no lie I tell myself will ever make that go away.
I don’t like this conversation. We’ve never talked so seriously before. We’ve skirted the obvious, ominous roadblocks that stand between us, as if ignoring them will make them disappear altogether.
Jass hums under his breath. By not answering him, I’ve given him the response he was looking for, confirming his suspicions. Slowly, he reaches out and lifts his hand, taking hold of a piece of my hair. He studies it, and then carefully brushes it behind my ear; his touch is warm, even though he doesn’t make contact with my skin, and my heart starts tripping all over the place. “You’re terrible at hiding your emotions. I’d be able to read your thoughts even if I couldn’t read your mind. I know the guilt you carry with you. Don’t worry,” he says softly. “Letting go is the hard part. Once you admit the truth to yourself, everything that follows after is easy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper. There’s a frightened voice inside me that does know what he’s talking about, though, and it’s urging me to accept his words. It would be so easy. It would make so much sense. To shut down the part of me that insists on feeling so much.