by Frankie Rose
“You weren’t supposed to see that.” His tone is clipped and hard, but there’s something softer lying underneath. Something he really doesn’t want me to see.
“I assumed you hadn’t given last night another thought,” I answer.
Standing above me on the dune now, Jass looks back at me and laughs inside his head. “Some events indelibly mark themselves on you, Reza. I’ll never be able to escape what happened between us last night. You’re being ridiculous if you think I could.”
“Then why are you being so cold? You held me for hours last night. You stroked my hair. You held onto me like I was life itself. And then, when I see you again, you act as if nothing happened.”
Jass is a tower of marble. I can’t read his face or the way he’s holding his body. He turns away from me and pushes on up the dune, leaving me behind. I can hardly keep up with his long, forceful strides. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he says out loud, though quiet enough that Col doesn’t hear him. “I don’t even know what the hell is going on anymore.”
“I just want you to be honest.”
“And good. And kind. A man ready to lay down his life for a race he doesn’t even know. You want me to be everything I’m not.”
“I want you fucking try! Seriously, Jass. Am I really asking for so much? Is the concept of you not killing people so damned difficult to entertain, even for a moment? For me?” My voice carries farther than I anticipated; Col stumbles on the ridgeline ahead of us. He doesn’t turn around, but there’s no way he didn’t hear me. If I could, I’d snatch the words out of the air and cram them back into my mouth. Damn it.
Jass stops dead. “All right.” Blowing out a deep, unhappy breath, he shoots a burning sideways glance at me. “I’m going to try, Reza. For you. I’m going to try and put aside everything I know and everything I’ve been taught, and I’m going to try and help you beat Regis. Just—just don’t make a big deal out of this,” he says, holding up his hand, cutting me off before I can speak.
I’m smiling, though. Grinning from ear to ear. A spark of hope has ignited inside me. I never thought he’d agree to it, but he’s going to help us. Erika’s vision was right. And if she was right about Jass joining us, then she was probably right about us being victorious over the Construct, too.
Jass carries on walking. His boots mow through the sand like he doesn’t feel the suns beating on his back and the exercise isn’t making his heart work harder. He bypasses Col, and he doesn’t look back. When I reach Col, my friend takes hold of my arm and squeezes hard.
“Black holes are magnificent, Reza. When you see the spirals of light disappearing inside them, they put on quite the show. Never forget they’re deadly, though. They destroy anything that draws too close.”
“That sounds like something Darius would say,” I pant, moping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm.
“It is. And he did. Please, Reza. Please. Be careful.”
******
The tree Col mentioned is actually a radio tower, eighty meters high and bristling with antennas, protected from the sand storms by a thick plasticast housing. Turns out Col’s never actually seen a real tree before. And the hulking pleasure cruiser he uncovers five feet from the radio mast would have been dated a hundred cycles ago, and that’s being kind. The people of Pirius rarely leave the surface of the planet, so it’s a miracle Col even managed to salvage the rusting, dented, beat up vessel. The Oraxis’ thrusters are filled with sand, and the ancient paint job is so sandblasted and eroded that it’s impossible to tell what colors originally marked the metalwork. Col stands back from the craft with his hands on his hips, eyeing it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Took me cycles to make this thing fly,” he says with pride. “Had to do some pretty unspeakable things with a woman from Anderas in order to get the nav systems replaced. A lot of blood, sweat and tears went into this thing. And a few other bodily fluids I don’t really want to talk about.”
I cringe, trying not to laugh. Laughing doesn’t really seem appropriate right now, and if I start, I might end up crying instead.
“That thing will never get us through the atmosphere,” Jass says bluntly. He kicks at the hull with the toe of his boot. “I’ve seen some junkers in my time, but this is beyond the pale.”
“She will breach the atmosphere. She’s done it before.” Col tone suggests he’s more than a little offended by our reactions.
Jass, as ever, doesn’t seem to give a shit. “How many times?”
“Does it really matter? All you need to know is that it’s possible.”
“So just the once then,” Jass says, nodding as he stares at the craft.
“Yes. Just once. But once is enough.”
Jass inhales deeply, pacing back and forth in front of the pleasure cruiser. He places his palm against the riveted metal panels, obviously repaired and patched a thousand times, and he goes still. A moment later he drops his hand and lifts one shoulder. “All right, then. Let’s get on with this.” He disappears around the side of the cruiser and the hatch opens, sending a cloud of sand billowing up into the air.
I try to disguise my hesitation, but Col is an intuitive guy. He nudges me with his shoulder, grinning. “You think I’d let you step foot on this thing if I didn’t think it was safe? Don’t worry. The ride might be bumpy, but we’ll get to where we’re going. I promise.”
There’s more sand inside the ship than there is outside, piled up on the shabby, well-worn carpet that lines the floor of the old pleasure cruiser. Col kicks the drift out of the hatch, muttering under his breath, and then he hits the door lock. The huge slab of metal slowly lowers, blocking out the light of the suns. The other pressure lock closes, sealing us inside.
The main body of the cruiser is furnished with scuffed plasticast chairs, painted to look like wood. Tables fill the old passenger’s seating area, most of them lop-sided or completely broken, lying in pieces on the floor. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the teardrop shaped cut glass dangling from their arms all caked in dirt and dust. Once upon a time, the Oraxis would have been a luxury vessel. Now it stinks of decay, rostick droppings and engine grease.
A high-pitched alarm begins to sound, and then an array of screens and panels light up, telemetry and basic life support systems reporting the ship’s status. Most of the screens are in the red, but Col doesn’t seem too worried. Jass sits silently in the pilot’s seat, contemplating his hands. Col works away, prepping the Oraxis for take off. He stops suddenly, looking to Jass, as if the other man just called his name.
Without looking up, Jass says, “How do you feel about secrets?”
“Honestly? Not great.”
“Didn’t think so. If you could find out who killed your mother, would you want to know?”
Shit. The tension inside the ship suddenly ramps up to an eleven. Jass knows who murdered Erika? There are many things this could mean, and my gut clenches, afraid of every single possibility. Did Jass torture the information out of someone? Or, more importantly, did he lie to Col’s face before? Is he really responsible for the chancellor’s death?
A gamut of emotion runs over Col’s weary face. “Of course I would,” he whispers.
“And if you knew? What then? Revenge? Forgiveness? Would you be a better man and allow the person responsible to live? Or would you hunt them to the edges of the galaxy and make them pay for what they’d done? Even if justice came at a very high price?”
I know why he’s asking this. He wants to know if Col is as pure and righteous as everyone says he is, willing to sacrifice all for the sake of the group. Rather, he wants to know if Col is just like him, willing to cast his goals and morals aside in order to exact vengeance upon the heads of those who have wronged him. Col looks drawn, his expression that of a troubled man.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I honestly don’t know.”
Jass nods again. He hits the engine igniters, firing each of them in turn, until the Oraxis feels like it’s
about to shake itself apart under the strain. “The person who ended your mother’s life is still on Pirius. Last chance. You want to stay and find them, or you want to leave and save the people in the sub city from possible danger?”
I could wrap my hands around Jass’ neck and tighten my grasp. Bastard. If he knows who killed Erika now, then he’s known for a while. He could have told Col back in the comms hall; he could have sought him out and told him any number of times, but he’s choosing now to spring this unfair decision on him. Col’s hands have clenched into fists, his knuckles white, his eyes distant and unreachable.
“Let’s just go,” he says softly. “Justice doesn’t have a shelf life.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
REZA
THE BIG GUNS
The Oraxis does make it out of Pirius’ atmosphere, but by the skin of her teeth. Once we escape the planet’s gravitational field, the ride smooths out, and Jass abandons the pilot’s chair, the soles of his boots ringing out against the grated steel underfoot as he disappears into the back of the ship. I watch him go, pretending I don’t, and I feel a tug down the tether as it tries to drag me along behind him. I refuse to be towed along like a dune dog on a leash, though. If Jass wants to talk to me, he can damn well ask, just like everyone else.
I haven’t left the surface of Pirius in over seven cycles. I never planned on leaving, never entertained the idea of heading back out into space again, and so to find myself here now, staring out of a view port, as white streaks of burning hot hydrogen and helium stream past, traveling at thousands of miles a second, is a bit of a shock to the system.
A little over an hour into our flight, Col receives a transmission from the surface of Pirius.
Notice: Henceforth, the ship Oraxis and its occupants will not be granted permissions to port at Pirius. Summary destruction of all properties belonging to COL OFFWORLDER, formerly PAKKA, and the human known as “REZA” have been carried out. Additionally, Construct leaders have been informed of JASS BEYLAR’S last known whereabouts. We assume they will be tracking your vessel shortly.
-Grand Elder Farren.
I scan the message twice over just to make sure I’m reading it right. “Grand Elder Farren? Since when does Pirius have a grand elder?”
Col glares at the pixels in front of him, utterly dumbstruck. “Not for centuries. Before the sub city was divided up and a duly appointed seer took over administration of each sector, only one seer ruled the entire city. A grand elder. It was later decided that a council of leaders would prevent corruption and aid in diplomacy efforts between the quarrelling families spread across the sub city, though. That was a long time ago.”
“So, if Farren’s declared himself grand elder, what does that mean for Chancellor Gain?
Col’s mouth twists into a worried grimace. “I don’t know. He might have had to step down from his post. If that’s the case, he’s probably being held in his quarters, out of the public eye. Gain’s popular in his sector. Farren wouldn’t chance allowing him free rein of the sub city, where he could cause riots and dissent. And he’d never allow him to leave. There are miles and miles of unoccupied tunnels and caverns beyond the sub city. It would be easy for a rebel group to set up a base close by and cause havoc for Farren and his men.”
“And Darius?”
“Darius will have received the same treatment.”
“Farren wouldn’t have…” I swallow down my dread, forcing the words out. “You don’t think he would have had them killed, do you?” I knew we should have insisted Darius come with us when we left. He’s always been so stubborn, though. Single minded in his purpose. His love for Pirius and its people knows no bounds. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to save his race, and that includes staying behind to shield them from the fall out when tensions are running high.
“I don’t know. He’s not exactly behaving rationally. He contacted the Construct, for fuck’s sake,” Col says. “He purposefully reached out to the very people my mother told him were going to wipe us all out, just to spite me. I can’t believe he did it.”
“Will Regis be able to track the Oraxis through hyperspace?” I ask. Bile rises to the back of my throat at the very thought of the Construct. The Nexus has been a ground base since it’s completion, but it does have flight capabilities. No doubt a solid portion of its structure would be heavily damaged by uprooting it from its foundations on Darax, but Regis wouldn’t give that a second thought if Stryker was whispering sweet nothings into his ear about victory. Even if they don’t uproot The Nexus, the base is large enough to house at least two jump ships capable of carrying an entire fleet of raptors right to us. They have plenty of tools at hand, and we have a rusting cruiser that was too old to be useful two hundred cycles ago.
Col pulls a face. “Who do you think taught Jass how to upgrade those scanners back in the comms hall?”
“They will find us.” From the back of the ship, Jass raises his voice. I thought he’d gone into the back sleeping quarters and passed out, considering how quiet he’s been. He hasn’t, though. He’s sitting on an up-ended crate of phase rifle ammo packs. “Once Regis has his mind set on something, he’ll make sure it comes to pass. We’re hurtling through space in a coffin right now. We need to land. Somewhere we’ll be able to pick up another transport. Somewhere they won’t expect us to go.”
“How long until we reach another outpost that might have ships for barter?” I ask Col.
He consults the star chart in front of him. “Two hours at least.”
Two hours. Two hours in a pleasure cruiser that might break down at any moment. The Construct’s ships are far faster and far more reliable that the Oraxis, and Col knows it. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead, rolling down the side of his face.
“What kind of weapons system does this ship have?” I ask.
He gives me a weak smile. “None. This craft was used solely for leisure tours, not fighting.”
If the situation could have possibly gotten any worse, it just did. I tamp down my rising fear and stalk back into the storage area of the ship. Coming to a halt in front of Jass, I fold my arms across my chest, staring him down when his eyes meet mine. “Well? Somewhere we might be able to pick up another transport? Somewhere they wouldn’t expect us to go? I’m assuming you have somewhere in mind?”
Jass sighs, getting to his feet. “I do actually.” He reaches into his pocket and draws something out, tossing it to Col. Something small, black and cylindrical. A data stick. Col catches it out of the air, turning it over in his hand. “Plug the coordinates stored on there into the nav systems. They’ll take us somewhere close. Somewhere safe. I know the place like the back of my hand.”
So secretive. I place my hand on his chest, preventing him from walking away. “Where are you sending us? Where do those coordinates lead, Jass? You can’t just expect us to follow you blindly into the unknown.”
“It’s a surprise,” he tells me.
“No. No more surprises. I need to know if there’s a fortification wherever we’re headed. If there’s any chance we might be safe.”
Jass frowns, tipping his head to one side. My dark, strange, tormented prince. “There is a fortification,” he replies. “The whole place is a fortress. Stronger than most.”
“Uh, guys? Once you’re done bickering, might I suggest we get the hell out of here? We’re about to have company, and it looks like they brought the big guns.” Col angles his sensor array, and on it a sea of Construct targets, all headed our way. Three jump ships, along with an armada of raptors and smaller drones. For a second it looks as though the top of Col’s screen is malfunctioning; a bright green circle lowers onto the array, completely blocking out the top quarter of the screen. Then I realize the screen is working perfectly. The incomprehensibly large object is not a sensor fault at all, but a behemoth-sized vessel. Jass grunts, cracking his knuckles one by one. He doesn’t look happy. He does not look happy at all.
“The Nexus,” he says grimly. “They didn’t just br
ing out the big guns. They brought out their biggest.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
JASS
HYPERSPACE
My stomach cartwheels as we jump to hyperspace. You can barely feel the shift on larger ships, but the Oraxis is a completely different story. The old pleasure craft was made for cruising through solar nurseries and orbiting white dwarfs at a respectable distance, its passengers watching the births and deaths of stars while sipping on sparkling alcohol out of fluted, cut crystal glasses. It was not intended as a getaway vehicle for escaping irate intergalactic overlords.
I grab hold of Reza, crushing her to my body as the craft jolts and pitches, struggling to find its path through the planes of hyperspace. Col hollers something from the cockpit, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. All I can hear is Reza’s labored breathing and her pounding heartbeat. The sound of her alarm fills my head, and I’m paralyzed. I need to protect her. I need to make sure she comes through this alive. I’ve been trying to distance myself from her since she came to find me in the comms room, and everything was going according to plan. That is, until I saw the lengths Stryker has gone to. Uprooting The Nexus is no easy task. It will have cost the Construct dearly. The station was always intended as a planetary base, not a space-faring warship. The fuel it takes to power the thing is impossible to maintain. And to lift the base from the ground, it must rip itself free from its foundations, sheering through thousands of tons of metal. Once it’s jettisoned its site back on Darax, it’s impossible to ever land it again. The fact that Regis has ordered The Nexus to come after us speaks volumes. He is willing to lose everything. He’s willing to lose his most prized possession in order to punish me for what I’ve done.