by Rachel Aukes
“Damn, that’s rough,” Luther said.
Guilt nagged at Heid. After all, it was she who’d stolen the warship and launched the Fringe Liberation Campaign. She knew the blame sat squarely on her shoulders for every death at Nova Colony. She’d wanted to come sooner, but it’d taken too long to build the generators for the flak, and her Spate mission had consumed far more of her time than she’d planned. But she’d chosen Spate over Nova Colony—she’d have to live with the consequences.
Heid tapped her comm. “All lander crews are authorized to enter the colony to assist with evacuation.” She turned back to Stan. “There’s room for everyone on the landers. Make an announcement to evacuate. We’ll assist anyone too weak to walk.”
“I’m not leaving,” Stan said. “This rock might not be pretty, but she’s my responsibility. I’m not leaving her. And I know a few others will stay. Some folks have never been off this rock and don’t intend to leave it now.”
Heid watched him for a moment. “I expected as much, and I have a lander full of supplies that should cover your needs for a while. But I can give no guarantees how soon we’ll be out here again. You could be on your own for some time.”
“I can live with that,” Stan said, and he turned to the people behind him. “Go on and get your groups packed up. Move the weakest first. Make sure no one who doesn’t want left behind isn’t left behind.”
Too many hours later, the Arcadia departed Nova Colony with two hundred and forty-five additional passengers. The sickest had been sent immediately to Medical, while several of the strongest had refused to let Heid leave their sight.
As they stood on the bridge, they eyed Heid and her crew with trepidation and sideways glances. She knew what was going through their heads. They were on a CUF ship, and though Heid and her crew no longer wore uniforms, they carried on flying the Arcadia with many of the same military processes and procedures they’d used while still in the CUF.
To these new colonists, Heid and her crew had ties with their enemy. They’d boarded her ship out of desperation rather than trust, not that she’d expected them to trust her. Not that she trusted them—she didn’t trust anyone who was desperate. She tapped a message to her bridge crew and security teams.
REMAIN ON HIGH ALERT. REPORT ANY ISSUES IMMEDIATELY.
The new colonists were sick and weak, but they were also survivors. She knew a wounded coyote could be most dangerous when trapped.
An idea formed in her mind.
She took the controls and looked out across the Coast, out beyond, to where she knew the drones and likely several CUF patrol ships stood. She stated her order loudly and clearly. “Arm all photon guns, and fire up phase cannons one through five. We’re going to blast every drone out of the sky.”
Her crew turned to her, eyes wide. The new passengers eyed her with surprise—hope, even.
Will spoke first. “The CUF will know we were here.”
Her navigator added, “They’ll know we’ve evacuated the Coast.”
“Oh, they won’t have any reason to blockade a colony they believe is abandoned,” Sylvian said.
“Exactly.” Heid’s lips curled into a smile. “Now, let’s have some fun.”
Chapter Six
Aches and Pains and Doppelgangers
Devil Town fringe station, Spate
Throttle
Throttle woke in a bed instead of on a hard, cold prison floor. She hadn’t expected to wake at all.
Her pounding head assured her she was alive. She lifted her head and immediately lowered to the pillow. The room swirled around her, and her tongue felt thick. Whatever they’d drugged her with was still deep in her system. Her mind was too fuzzy to process any logic behind drugging a prisoner—a paraplegic one at that. The CUF used stun guns, which were cheaper and easier to use than drugs, and droms tended to enjoy using pain-inflecting weapons more often.
She glanced at her forearm to find her wrist comm missing. It was then she noticed she was wearing a hospital gown rather than her clothes.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, and the room spun so quickly she became nauseous. She reached out for her wheelchair, but it wasn’t where she always left it. Her head swayed as she searched the room, squinting through her double vision. Her chair was missing. Anxiety began to clear her sight. Without her chair, the droms didn’t need to put her in a prison cell. It wasn’t like she could haul herself out of there—wherever there even was—without drawing the attention of any drom in the area. Her only chance was if they passed out from laughing so hard at the sight of a crippled girl dragging herself around Spate.
Shoot, she would’ve laughed at the idea if she could’ve seen straight.
A lock clicked, and Throttle turned to see the door slide open and two men and two women walk in. Two pairs of twins. No, that wasn’t right. She blinked and tried to focus her vision. One man, and one woman a step behind him. He was tall for a Myrad, with the bluest skin she’d ever seen. His family must’ve been one of the first colonists on Myr, or he’d had his skin stained. With the vibrant colors he wore and the way he carried himself, she suspected it was the former.
The woman, on the other hand, had pale white skin—maybe even a shade paler than Throttle’s—with green eyes and dark auburn hair. She was stunningly beautiful and wore a long green gown. She was also incredibly familiar, yet Throttle was sure she’d never seen the woman before in her life.
Throttle rested her head against the wall to help hold it steady.
“The drugs will wear off soon,” The man said. “But I wanted to see you as soon as you woke.”
Throttle tried to focus on him. “Why am I still alive?”
He watched her. “You’re Halit Herley, pilot and mail runner. You earned the nickname of Throttle due to your reputation for flying fast. Tell me, Ms. Herley, why didn’t you take your adoptive father’s surname? For all intents and purposes, you’re Halit Reyne. There’s no way you could remember your real parents.”
She gritted her teeth and repeated, “Why am I still alive?”
He smiled, an expression devoid of humor and full of arrogance. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Axos Wintsel, the stationmaster of Devil Town.” He motioned to the woman standing behind him, who never looked up. “And this is my consort, Qelle.”
Ah. That’s why the woman looked familiar. The fog was slowly clearing from Throttle’s mind, but everything still felt sluggish, like she was stuck in a tank of pudding.
“You and I have something in common,” he said, with a sly smile on his face.
“A colonist and a Myrad have something in common?” She belted out a dry laugh. “Let me guess. You’re a cripple, too.”
“I am not a cripple!” He stomped toward her with a raised fist.
She braced herself for the blow.
He took a deep breath, lowered his hand, and took a step back. “No, I am not a cripple. We’re orphans, you and me. For each of us, our only family left is our adoptive fathers, which makes me feel like we’re kindred spirits. Your parents were killed in the Uprising, as was my father. I lost my mother far more recently. Perhaps you’ve heard of her. Her name was Dr. Zara Wintsel.”
Throttle’s lips parted, and she quickly erased all expression from her face in an attempt to hide her knowledge, though she suspected she wasn’t doing a very good job at it through the drug-induced haze. “Don’t know her.”
He looked disappointed. “I think you do. After all, it was Aramis Reyne who killed her.” He moved closer.
Throttle tried not to cringe.
He continued. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe in punishing the child for the sins of her father.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” she said.
“It’s true. I’ll even prove it,” he said, and the slinky smile returned. Throttle would’ve sprinted from the room that exact moment if she could have.
“Qelle.” He held out his hand.
The woman approached, and placed
an electronic device on his palm before taking a step back in a subservient pose. He looked at the device for a brief moment before turning back to Throttle.
“How long do you think you were out?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A couple hours.”
He chuckled. “Not quite. You were unconscious for over two days.”
Two days. Chills climbed through her. Reyne and Boden would be so worried about her. Chills became ice. If they hadn’t tried to rescue her by now, that meant they thought she was dead. Worse, they were dead. A weight settled on her chest, and breathing became a labor.
“You’re not curious as to why you were unconscious for so long?”
Throttle forced a deadpan expression. “You get your rocks off watching women sleep?”
He ignored her. “How about I show you?” He held up the device, and pressed his thumb on its small screen.
Sensation stormed through her legs, and she grabbed them. She felt the warm pressure of her hands on her legs—not just through her hands, but also through her legs. Goosebumps swam all the way down her body, and her legs tingled. She ran her hands across her thighs, noticing the touches felt real and not like phantoms.
Her foot spasmed, and her leg moved. Her leg had moved! Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she hastily wiped them away to keep watching her legs. She willed her feet to lift, and they did, though the motion felt foreign.
“The surgery didn’t take long,” he said. “Much of the time was spent rebuilding and strengthening the atrophied muscles in your legs. Go ahead. Try to stand.”
Throttle swallowed, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She’d spent her entire life dreaming of this moment. Of being able to stand on her own without the help of any wheelchair or braces. Every night, she dreamed of walking onto the Gryphon’s bridge while Reyne watched her, smiling.
Unlike her dream, a stranger stood smiling at her. Not just any stranger. Her enemy.
She didn’t push off the bed. Instead, she remained sitting. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. She craved to stand more than anything, to run and jump and hop. But she didn’t move.
She took a breath and then looked up at Axos. “Why?”
He cocked his head. “Because I’m hoping we can be friends.”
“That’s a load of bull,” she snapped. “What game are you playing?”
“No game.”
The way he pursed his lips in humor said the opposite.
“So, I can just stand and walk out of here,” she said.
“If you’d like. However, I should caution you that you want me as a friend, not an enemy.” He held up the device and pressed the button.
Fire burned down Throttle’s spine and through her legs. She cried out and clutched her quadriceps. Then, as suddenly as the agony had hit her, it disappeared, leaving a numbing coldness in its wake. She sucked in a breath and squeezed her knees. She felt nothing.
She glared at Axos. “What did you do?”
He wagged the device at her. “See this little thing? It controls the implant in your spine. I can turn the implant on or off with a simple swipe of my thumbprint. I don’t want to hurt you, but you forced my hand when you were unruly.”
She clenched her teeth. “What do you want from me?”
His lips curled upward. “Now, I think we’re getting somewhere.” He pulled up a chair. The woman behind him didn’t move, keeping her gaze directed at the floor.
“My adoptive father, I’m sure you know, is none other than Corps General Michel Ausyar. He asked me to fill the position as stationmaster of Devil Town.” He waved his hand. “Now, it’s not a glamorous job, but it’s temporary, and a means to an end. Once all the space docks are under Ausyar’s command, I’ll no longer need to waste time here in the fringe and can move on to something far more fitting of my heritage.”
Throttle bit her tongue to keep from making a crude remark about exactly what she thought of his heritage.
“That’s where you can help me,” he said.
She frowned. “How so?”
“This Fringe Liberation Campaign is causing delays in our plans. The sooner we can put that little rebellion behind us, the sooner I can return to Myr and you can live a life as a complete person, no longer a crippled colonist. All you have to do is help me find Aramis Reyne.”
He’s still alive!
Relief relaxed her taut muscles, though only slightly. She now understood the reason she was still alive. Axos expected her to be a traitor, bait, or both. She nearly rolled her eyes. “You want me to lead you to Reyne so you can kill him.”
Axos held up a hand. “Oh, by the eversea, no. I need Reyne alive. Ausyar wants a public execution. It will help draw out the remaining torrent leaders.”
His wrist comm chimed. He read a message, sighed, and stood. “Pressing business has arisen. I must be on my way. We’ll continue our conversation later.” He smoothed his clothes and turned to leave. He paused. “Qelle will fetch your meal, as I imagine you’re famished.” With that, he left without another word.
Qelle followed him out, and the door closed and locked behind them.
Throttle was left alone. She rubbed her legs, but they felt no different than they’d felt for the past twenty years. Dead weight.
She could have her legs back. All she had to do was sell her soul to a blue-skinned devil.
She exhaled and fell back onto the pillow. She was never one to feel sorry for herself, and she wasn’t going to start now. Instead, she needed to do something productive, like figure out a way out of here. She was fairly sure she was at the stationhouse, which meant she was a long way from the docks. The room itself didn’t seem too secure. A simple lock on the door would be easy enough to bypass. As for the camera…
She’d known she was being watched by the Myrad’s conveniently-timed arrival within minutes of her waking, and she could guarantee a drom was watching her now.
Throttle looked around. There you are. In the corner, near the door, a small camera hung from the ceiling. The room was small, and a single camera easily covered the entire space. Still, she searched for other cameras, but found none. She winked at the camera.
The camera was a simple black orb, which meant it wasn’t infrared. She assumed all the cameras in the station were the same. Good. If she moved only in darkness, she’d avoid detection—not that she had any idea how to cut power to the room and hallways from where she sat.
Now, the biggest hurdle. Her legs. Even if she could get out of the room undetected, without a wheelchair and a breather mask, any full escape attempt was doomed.
She sighed and leaned back. Without a ship, she was helpless.
The door clicked and whooshed open. In walked Qelle with a tray of food.
The woman eyed Throttle tentatively, and then stepped inside. “I brought you food.” She set the tray on Throttle’s lap and took a quick step back.
“It’s okay. I don’t bite,” Throttle said.
“Axos cautioned me that you may be unpredictable,” she said without making eye contact.
“Qelle, I’m paralyzed. How unpredictable do you think I can be?”
She shrugged.
Throttle turned her attention to the tray with a bowl of black philoseed hash and a glass of an electrolyte drink. Axos had been right about one thing. She was hungry. She ate a spoonful of hash and took another. In between bites, she said, “So, Axos can’t swing any decent grub around here?”
Qelle flustered. “I’m sorry. Everyone except Axos and his leadership team eat hash at every meal. It’s what I eat as well. With the space dock on Darios still out of commission—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Throttle interrupted. She watched the woman for a lengthy moment. Qelle was nothing how Sixx described. Sure, she was beautiful, but Sixx talked about her spirit and strength. This woman seemed devoid of both.
Throttle ate the rest of her meal in silence. After taking a long drink, she spoke again. “You’re even
prettier than your picture.”
Qelle frowned and looked up for the first time. “My picture?”
“Yeah, Sixx has one in his cabin. He’s never stopped looking for you, you know.”
“Sixx?” Her confused look morphed into one of understanding. “Oh, I’m not Qelle Sixx.”
Throttle lowered her glass. “If you’re not Jeyde Sixx’s wife, then who are you?”
“I’m not her. I mean, I’m Qelle, but not really.”
“So, you’re not Qelle Sixx of Spate.”
The woman shook her head. “No. I’m from Darios.”
Throttle cocked her head. “But you look just like her. Your name’s Qelle.”
“I’m not her.” She began to speak faster and softer. “He liked her face, but he didn’t like her personality. She made him angry, and he killed her.”
“Oh.” Throttle frowned. Sixx wouldn’t be happy to hear that.
Qelle continued. “Axos designed Qelle’s face on another servant who was more obedient.”
“You,” Throttle said.
She shook her head. “I’m Qelle Delta. There were three Qelles before me.”
“Let me guess,” Throttle said. “They also made him angry.”
Qelle swallowed and then nodded. “He has a bit of a temper.”
“You’re telling me.” She took a drink. This woman was scared of her own shadow and would be of no help to Throttle in escaping.
The woman’s wrist comm chimed, and she jumped. “I have to go. Lily is looking for me.”
“Who’s Lily?” Throttle asked.
Qelle’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.” Her gaze shot frantically to the door before turning back to Throttle. “She’s Axos’s daughter.”
“Ah,” Throttle said. “And let me guess. Her mother was Qelle Sixx.”
Qelle Delta nodded.
Throttle’s gaze narrowed. “Does Lily know the truth?”
She shook her head in a rush. “And she can’t. Axos would be furious. He wants her to grow up with both parents.”