by R. C. Lewis
“We should get back to work.”
He turned to look at me with a strange stillness in his face, but didn’t get up. “No, I should. You should rest.”
I found my boots on the floor and pulled them on. “Done enough of that already, haven’t I?”
“Maybe. How are you feeling?”
“Like I went through the pulverizer back at the mine. But it’s not real.”
“Your brain decides what’s real. That makes it real enough.”
I groaned, stretching my arms over my head. Maybe if I gave my muscles some legitimate signals to send, my brain would unconfuse itself. “Very philosophical of you.”
If he had a retort, I didn’t get to hear it. A chime sounded to announce someone at the door. When Dane opened it, Tobias entered with a man I didn’t recognize.
“Oh, good, she’s up,” Tobias said.
“I am. What do you want?” I asked.
“For you to finish paying off your debt. Come on, time to go.”
Tobias took one step toward me, but Dane moved to block him. “She’s not doing another fight.”
“You’re right. She isn’t. Harper, tell them what you found when you checked the Thandan networks.”
The other man smirked, making me wonder if he and Tobias were related. “A lot more than a fighting record. The safest, most productive mine on the planet, and it’s all down to Essie.”
“What does that have to do with anyone’s debt?” I challenged.
“The payment is simple,” Tobias said. “You’ll tell us everything you know about merinium mining on Thanda and hand over complete schematics and codes on the drones you upgraded.”
I got my aching body up off the bed to stand next to Dane. “You’re all so sharp, design your own drones.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “You don’t realize what you’ve done, do you? Drones with the ability to make decisions, with complete autonomy. We’ve tried for years, but no one’s managed it.”
“Now that you know it can be done, I’m sure you’ll figure it,” I retorted. “Why is that worth so much to you anyway?”
“Because if you’ve made mining operations on Thanda less of a death sentence, we know quite a few Garamites who’d be willing to take over.”
“Why would you do that?” Dane asked.
The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and I had the answer before either Garamite could give it. “You need more merinium for the solar screens, more than Matthias gives you. That’s how he keeps you in line, how he keeps you supplying him with tech, how he keeps your colonies small and limited. The tiny amounts of merinium that black-market traders manage isn’t enough to make a difference.”
“Very good, Essie.” More condescension from Tobias. “If we control the merinium, we can transform the rest of this planet. No more answering to Windsong.”
“What about the Thandans?” I demanded.
“They’re nothing but grunts King Matthias keeps alive to work the mines, and you’ve made them expendable. No great loss.”
I couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with the false aches lingering in my body. Tobias was talking about war between Garam and Thanda—a war Garam would easily win even without uniting the colonies.
Another war.
Did it matter? Certainly if they wanted to blast Moray to pieces, I’d hand them the ammunition. But Petey, and the men who’d left me alone like I wanted, and the families in the Bands…I didn’t want any part of hurting them.
“I won’t do it,” I said.
“Trust me, you will.”
Harper’s hand locked onto my arm. A jolt of panic triggered the push-and-pull on my consciousness—just like when I’d body-hopped Moray—but I fought it down. Before I could break Harper’s grip, Dane did it for me, knocking the Garamite’s hand away. When he did, I saw something on Harper’s belt. Something that looked like a gun.
This could turn into a disaster right quick.
“Those aren’t the terms we agreed to,” Dane said.
Tobias snorted. “You know the rules, Dane. If you Candarans want to trade with us behind Windsong’s back, we dictate the terms. And we reserve the right to change our minds.”
For five seconds, Dane said nothing. No one did. Everyone just glared. When he finally spoke, his mouth barely moved.
“Go with them, Essie.”
My shock at Dane’s words rendered me immobile. Harper took the opportunity to grab my arm again, and Tobias latched on to the other. They guided me out into the hallway, despite my efforts to break free. I couldn’t decide who to be angrier at, the Garamites or Dane. For all the things Dane was, I couldn’t believe he’d let anyone destroy the lives of all those Thandans. I twisted to look over my shoulder, to yell at him or spit at him or something.
He looked right at me and held up two fingers.
I got the message. Two of them. Two of us.
If I did it, if I body-hopped, the rest of me would be helpless.
But Dane was a full Exile. He had to know what he was doing.
I tilted my head toward Harper, and Dane nodded. I focused on the contact between Harper’s hand and my arm, remembered the feeling the night Moray broke into my shack. The push-and-pull returned, and I rode it into Harper’s mind.
A moment of dizziness makes me tighten my grip on the Thandan girl’s arm, even though she’s stopped struggling. It’s strange—I was feeling fine before. I get my focus back and pull her along. We can’t afford any mistakes. Her knowledge is too valuable.
Where are his doubts? There! In the corner, push them forward, Essie. Make him hear. Harper, what if you can’t get enough Garamites to unite behind you? What if Windsong intervenes and defends the Thandans? What if the Exiles do? Can you—
Dane punched Harper in the back, and the pain shoved me back to myself, stumbling as my legs turned to lead. The body-hop had been brief, but I was already worn out. Adrenaline would have to make up the difference.
Tobias, who’d taken a hit of his own from Dane, was retaliating. While Dane handled him, I didn’t hesitate, slamming my fist right into Harper’s face. Without any protective hand-wraps, my knuckles stung sharply, but I embraced the pain—it was real.
In moments, both men were on the ground, unconscious.
Dane caught his breath and went back into the room. After several taps on the computer terminal, he snatched up the few items we had with us, tossed them in a bag, and came out. He grabbed my arm, more gently than Tobias had, but I still pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Fine, but we’ve got to go.”
“Where? The shuttle repairs—”
“Are finished.”
Unbelievable. “Those little brats finished it already?”
“Essie, come on.”
Too many thoughts, too many changes, too much for my weary head. It didn’t fit my plan. I’d never get to the spaceport, but Dane seemed to have a plan of his own for getting to the shuttle. No one was in the hall, but that could change at any moment. If they found out we’d body-hopped…Not good. Better the Exile I knew than the Garamites I didn’t.
When Dane went for the exit, I stayed right with him.
Outside, some early-rising Garamites walked along the causeway. They gave me more funny looks than Dane, so they probably didn’t know who—or what—he was. Still, the obvious offworldliness of my clothes meant they knew I should be escorted. I thought about the size of the colony. Was it possible they would think Dane was one of their own, assigned to accompany me?
It seemed so for the first link or two, as we walked quietly through the residential sector without incident. Then a voice called out behind us.
“You there!”
I turned and recognized the woman as the suspicious one from the greeting party when we first landed. She definitely knew who Dane was and knew we shouldn’t be out on our own.
“Time to run,” Dane said.
It was exactly what my instincts had longed to do for days, so I did.
The woman shouted at a man up ahead to stop us, but his face blanked. I had no proof, but I suspected Dane had body-hopped him. A total stranger, without touching him, without missing a step—a full Exile’s abilities, just like my mother’s. The man turned away as we passed him.
I glanced back at the woman again. She was older and not very fit. She wouldn’t catch us on foot, but I figured she wouldn’t have to.
“We can’t run our way out of this crater,” I said, pushing to keep up with Dane’s long-legged stride. My body tried to tell me it wasn’t up to a workout like this just yet. I ignored the burning in my muscles. “She’ll have someone in a sand-skimmer on top of us in two minutes.”
Dane dodged a startled couple walking a dog. “Taken care of.”
“What do you mean, taken care of?”
“Didn’t you see how they have everything connected to their network? I launched a virus at all their ground transports. They’ll have to do a full reboot.”
I blinked, remembering the brief set of commands he’d tapped in before we took off. Too brief to be code for a virus.
“You had it ready?”
He didn’t answer. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who’d found some extra time in the support lab.
Blazes, why didn’t I think of that?
We left the residential area, which meant fewer people at that time of morning. Any we came across either chose not to get in our way or got body-hopped by Dane. I couldn’t be sure which most of the time, except once when he slowed down. This much was an effort, even for him. Fewer people also let me think about where we were going.
“Dane, the solar screen! We can’t go through that.”
“On it.” He took something from his pocket—my wrist transmitter. Rage flared up again, seeing it in his hand. “Dimwit, get to the solar screen and disrupt a sector, just like we discussed. Cusser, get the shuttle ready to go.”
“Dimwit Dane help Dane.”
“That’s right, and hurry.”
He had this all planned out so well, I didn’t bother asking how we’d get to the top of the crater. As we approached the wall, I saw the answer for myself.
“A ladder?”
“They have lots of old evacuation routes. Go on, you first.”
I didn’t argue, just started climbing. And climbing some more. Less than a quarter of the way up, my arms and legs screamed. Most of the false pain had disappeared, but my body was still worn and didn’t appreciate the strain. I paused near the halfway point to catch my breath and glanced back.
A glint of light below me caught my eye. The shiny surface of a sand-skimmer. The Garamites had gotten through that reboot.
I climbed faster.
At the top, I dropped to my knees for a second of rest. The edge of the solar screen was less than a link away. A faint gray blur on the other side might have been Dimwit.
I remembered the shock-field in the VT fight. Walking into the solar screen would be much worse.
“We can’t go through there,” I said as Dane came up over the edge. “That useless malfunction will botch it. You should’ve sent Cusser.”
He took my arm and got me up and moving again. “Haven’t you noticed? Dimwit never botches anything that’s really important.”
I’d have argued that the time the drone narrowly missed shooting a rivet through my arm was plenty important, but I didn’t have time. The fuzzy distortion of the field loomed closer every second.
Nearer…nearer…then a patch wasn’t fuzzy anymore. I could see Dimwit clearly at the edge of it.
“Go! I don’t know how long he can hold it.”
I ran harder, instinctively ducking as I went through the gap.
Fire blazed over my skin, convincing me I’d been caught in the field. But no, I was on the other side, yet it still burned. I fell forward onto the sand, my lungs flaming with the searing air I sucked in.
Dane hauled me up yet again. “No stopping, Essie. They’ll be up here any minute. Dimwit, let’s go.”
He kept hold of my arm and dragged me along. I couldn’t keep going. It was so hot, I couldn’t understand how anyone wouldn’t burn to ash in moments.
If I fell down dead, the Garamites couldn’t use me, and Dane couldn’t make me go home. Problem solved.
Tempting as it was, I still had a few self-preservation instincts left. I’d find another way.
Somehow I kept my feet under me, letting Dane’s momentum carry me forward. He glanced over his shoulder and ran faster, saying nothing. He didn’t have to—I knew he’d seen the sand-skimmer behind us, too.
“Dimwit, go on ahead,” he said. “Help Cusser fire up the engines.”
The drone scuttled past, kicking sand in my face. Grit stung my eyes and caught in my teeth, but it was the least of my problems. My head throbbed, sweat soaked my clothes, and every breath came in a heaving gasp.
Moments after Dimwit disappeared through the hatch, the engines roared to life. That little drone had become frighteningly reliable.
I heard something else, too. A higher-pitched sort of whine, very much like the sound of a sand-skimmer. I didn’t dare look back to confirm it.
We scrambled through the hatch and bumped shoulders as we both ran up to the command compartment. I fell into the second chair, giving myself a moment to breathe in the climate-controlled interior.
“Close it up, Cusser,” Dane called, skipping all the usual preflight checks. He jabbed at the controls, and my stomach dropped to my feet as the shuttle launched into the air.
I checked the viewer. The sand-skimmer was right where we’d been a moment before, its occupants firing energy weapons at us. They were too weak to do worse than singe the shuttle’s exterior, though, and quickly fell out of range. We were safe.
Safe from the Garamites. I wasn’t safe from Dane.
As we cleared the atmosphere, I stood and shoved him out of the way, entering a few quick commands on the control panel.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting a course for Candara.”
His mouth snapped shut. I was pretty surprised, too. Not like I’d actually thought it out before doing it, but it was the only option I had left. He’d never take me back to Thanda, and I refused to go to Windsong like he wanted.
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m your prisoner—fine. But it occurs to me that if this were an official Exile move, they wouldn’t have sent a kid to pull it off. I want to see whoever’s in charge. They can decide what to do with me.”
He stared at me for several moments, both our hands hovering over the controls, daring the other to make a battle of it. His eyes hardened, and a finger twitched.
“It won’t change anything.”
“Then the detour won’t matter, will it?”
At last, his hands relaxed. “Fine. We go to Candara.”
I sat back down, too worn to do anything else. Dimwit came into the compartment, probably looking for new instructions. I turned toward it to thank it for doing a good job.
Then it stepped on my foot, nearly crushing my toes, and I changed my mind.
THE SHUTTLE QUICKLY BECAME a very awkward place.
Dane didn’t try to confine me in the side room again, but I went there myself to drink some water and rest. It was easier to be alone, particularly when I wasn’t feeling well. Before I went, he gave me a tube from his bag. Dye stripper. He’d either traded for or stolen it from the Garamites. In his words, if we were going to Candara, then I was going to be recognizable.
A few minutes in the lavatory took care of that. No more not-quite-natural red. Instead, my hair was the barely natural white I hadn’t seen in years. When I came out and returned to the command compartment, Dane raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
He wasn’t subtle about keeping an eye on me, either. I put up with it for about two hours before I couldn’t anymore.
“I’m not going to crash us again,” I finally told him.
“And I’m supposed to take your word for tha
t?” he retorted.
“You’re not taking me to Windsong just yet, and I already decided I don’t want to die in space if I can help it.”
He fussed with the controls. Running a general system check, it looked like. “Why are you so set against going home?” he asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Something clicked. The look I’d seen in Dane’s eyes ever since he took me. He’d expected me to be glad to go, that he’d be doing me a favor and getting his father back in the process. My resistance had botched his brain.
The truth botched my stomach, and I pushed it down. “People often don’t make sense, I’ve found. You, for instance. Why’d you want to body-hop Tobias and Harper? You’re a trained fighter—you could’ve stopped them without it.”
“Transitioning, not body-hopping. Didn’t you see the weapons on their belts?”
“I did, but you’ve proven yourself quick enough to manage that, I’d think.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t want to chance it. Transitioning always causes a moment of disorientation. I hoped it’d be enough for us to take them down before they could pull their guns.”
“Aye, they were disoriented, and I may as well have been sleepwalking for all the brains I had left. Sparkling plan you had.”
“You—what?”
“If I’m in someone else’s head, I’m not exactly in my own, am I?”
“That’s how it is when we Transition to non-Candarans as children, before we learn to split our attention. You never learned?”
I bristled and didn’t bother hiding it. “My mother didn’t have a chance to teach me everything about it before she was killed, did she? And she kept the focus on making sure no one discovered I could do it at all. The most we figured is I can’t do it without touching the person, and I’m not very good at it.”
Dane looked at the controls again, perhaps considering an apology, but it didn’t come. “Either way, we were lucky. Tobias was too committed to using you. I couldn’t Tip him.”
My brows knit. “Tip?”
“No matter what they say, we can’t just turn people into puppets. Not really. But you were right about us stealing secrets. Not that we do—but that we can. When we Transition, they can’t hide anything from us. It’s like we are them. People make decisions all the time, and sometimes they could go either way. If they’re uncertain about a decision, we’ll know it when we Transition, and we can sometimes nudge them in one direction or the other.”