by F. T. Lukens
Ren didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. “Don’t you have something to do?” Ren stood and put his mug in the sink. “A task from our beloved Captain? Other than bothering me?”
Jakob’s smile grew. “Nope, other than enjoy the ride. You were right, Ren, space is boring when you haven’t been forcibly conscripted into the service of an insane despot.”
“Glad you’re having a nice time,” Ren said; his sarcasm was both thick and sharp.
“Actually,” Penelope said, interrupting, “we really should take stock of our supplies before we head to bed, Jakob. We’re pulling into port soon and we should check to see if we’re short of anything.”
“Well, then, I do have something to do other than give you a hard time.”
“Thank the stars for that.”
Jakob playfully pushed Ren’s shoulder, but then his expression turned serious.
“Did you ask?”
Ren’s coffee turned sour in his stomach.
“Jakob…” Ren trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Jakob wanted to go back to Erden, to look for their friend, Sorcha, to look for his family. But Asher was right. The Corps wouldn’t grant permission, not now. Ren had a sneaking suspicion the constraints were partly because if Ren were planetside, he’d be out of the Corps’ jurisdiction and off their radar. They couldn’t afford to lose track of him and couldn’t be caught dirt-side following him. They didn’t belong on planets unless invited.
“No, I know. I shouldn’t have asked. Not with—” Jacob wiggled his fingers “—everything you’ve had to deal with already this morning.”
Ren couldn’t have felt more awful. “I’ll ask. I’ll ask tomorrow. The worst she can do is say no.”
Jakob had a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said.
Ren squirmed, unable to handle any more emotion. He turned for the door.
“Don’t you want to eat?” Pen asked before Ren could slip away. “I have leftovers from dinner.”
“I’m not hungry and I should probably check on the ship. Make sure I didn’t break anything important this time.”
“I could make you a sandwich to take with you.”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, Pen,” Ren snapped. At her stricken expression, Ren moderated his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. I should go.”
She gave him a fragile smile. “Okay.”
Feeling worse for being annoyed with Pen than he did for almost killing them all, Ren ducked his head and left the common room.
There was nothing wrong with the ship. Ren used the possibility as an excuse, which was a tactic he used often to escape uncomfortable interactions. He could feel the pulse of the Star Stream in his veins, could hear the heartbeat of the systems echo his own. The ship was an extension of him. His star knew every circuit, every wire, every inch of the vessel intimately.
Touching the wall, he closed his eyes and merged with the vid feeds. He watched his own body from a camera as he walked. The experience was surreal, but more real to him than looking out of his own eyes. He was a combination of machine and man and he didn’t know what that made him—if he was human or a different entity entirely—but he did know he was safe in the systems.
He only wanted to be safe.
And he wanted his friends to be safe. But that, apparently, was a harder task than he had anticipated.
Ren pulled out of the ship and wandered to the cargo bay where he knew Millicent would be. She liked the open area and she liked that Ollie worked out down there. She wasn’t fooling anyone—well, maybe Ollie. Not that Ren could give relationship advice, since his was fairly nonexistent, if it had ever existed at all.
He detected Millicent’s own star’s signature. She radiated a calm Ren could only hope to achieve. In the beginning, the thought was that Ren would teach her control, but they all soon learned it would be the other way around. Millicent had a soft-spoken way about her and impeccable restraint. She wasn’t as powerful as Ren, though she could take over the entirety of Mykonos Drift, and she could nuance her power in a way that Ren was still trying to master.
She had been able to push Ren out of the drift’s systems when they first met, and it wasn’t all because she had been under Abiathar’s control.
She, too, had found her niche in the crew of the Star Stream. Rowan and Pen treated her like a long-lost sister. Lucas and Ollie wanted to protect her.
Ren wasn’t jealous. Or—he shouldn’t be jealous—but he was. He’d rather be regarded as a harmless kitten than a threat. It was a strange dichotomy, and Ren was working on reconciling it.
“Ren,” Millicent said, as he descended the steps to the floor of the cargo bay. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he said.
“You’re lying.”
She sat cross-legged on a rug with her back stiff. Her dark hair hung in long, straight strands; the tips curled on the floor. She stared, large eyes unblinking, pretty mouth pulled into a frown. Penelope’s mixer sat in front of her. She put the tip of her finger on the casing. Ren shuddered at the pulse of Millicent’s star, and the mixer came to life, only to short out a few moments later.
Ren sat on the floor across from her. “You should take lessons on tact from Jakob. He at least tried to cushion it when he called me out.”
She didn’t smile. “I’m not Jakob. The others may not be able to feel it, but I can.”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Feel what?”
“Feel that you’re drifting. You’re everywhere in this ship, and that means you’re not in there,” she said, pushing her finger into Ren’s chest.
He rubbed the spot where her fingernail had dug in. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not anchored.”
“Well, my anchor turned out to be a cog. It’s a little difficult to want to be around someone who has more allegiance to his boss than his friend.”
She blinked, her expression unreadable. “He’s protecting you.”
Ren frowned. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference between being protected and being prisoner.” That wasn’t entirely fair, but Ren wasn’t in the mood to be fair.
“That’s not true. You need to talk to him.”
Ren glanced away. “I know, but I… can’t. We’re… trying, but things are different now.”
“You’d risk venting us all into space instead of talking to a person who holds affection for you?”
“I didn’t say it made sense,” Ren grumbled.
“He needs to understand that you don’t need protecting.”
“Did you miss the part where I have a powerful military organization wanting to lock me up? Lock us both up?”
Millicent slowly turned her head to the side. She may be calm, but sometimes the way she moved made Ren think of a puppet. It was eerily reminiscent of when he’d met her, when she was under the influence of Abiathar’s voice and her eyes had glowed in her vacant body.
“We’re stars. We’re more powerful than any person or any group. Protection from Asher means nothing.”
“I’d think twice about saying that to anyone other than me. It sounds a little scary and threatening. The crew might not understand what you mean.”
“Do you understand?”
Ren’s frown deepened. He cleared his throat. “What are you up to?” Changing the subject, he gestured at the machine.
Millicent slowly tilted her head to the other side. “Playing with Penelope’s mixer. I haven’t been successful.”
“Is it broken?”
“I don’t think so? Unless I broke it.”
Ren hid a smile. Millicent and he were opposites. When Abiathar used her powers to take over the drift, it had drained her; Ren’s powers only seemed to grow. He had tapped into the vastness of space and unleashed
a torrent of potential, while her star withered. As they had discovered, their bodies reacted differently to the innate power. Millicent had control, and Ren was going to burn up from the inside. Abiathar could influence others with his voice. Nadie could see the future. Who knew what others could do?
Ren held out his hand and concentrated. The tingle of power emanated from his chest and trickled down to his fingertips; his vision went blue as he pushed out and explored the simplistic innards of the mixer. There was a slight glitch, which he fixed, but otherwise nothing was broken and the power source was fully charged. He found the switch, flicked it on, and the beater whirred to life. He turned it off and disengaged.
Millicent pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “How can you do that without touching it?”
“I don’t know. I see it and I know what to do. I can’t really explain it.”
She shook her head so her long hair swept across the floor. “I understand why you have a hard time controlling it. We should work on control. Sit with me.”
They’d done this before, when Ren had started to go haywire, after the first time he had entered the ship in his dreams. He mirrored her pose, and she guided him through breathing exercises.
“I think everyone has gone to bed,” she said softly. “Except Lucas, who is on the bridge. Wearing goggles.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that either.”
She snorted.
Ren lifted the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes and followed her lead, inhaling and exhaling. With each breath, his star centered. The warmth glowed in the middle of his chest and pulsed with his heartbeat. The ship enveloped him in tranquility. The soothing hum of its systems and the energy from circuits flowed through the ship like a life force. The exercises were meant to make him more concentrated in his own body, in his corporeal self, but Ren found the opposite.
He reached for calm, but it was elusive, especially when his emotions were in such turmoil. Serenity was slippery, like a fish pulled from the lake on Erden. The systems pulled on his being, and he couldn’t resist, and his thoughts turned toward the dark and dire—the confines of his cell on Erden, the loss of his brother, the desperate days of wandering across the countryside.
He gave in to the Star Stream; he fled from the tumultuous mortal coil into the freedom and safety of the ship. He floated amid the systems, and found the ship’s time much later than he thought. He’d lost time during his walk from the common area to the cargo bay, and the fact disconcerted him. Everyone was indeed asleep, except Lucas and Asher.
Through the comm system, he could hear Asher talking. Curious, Ren followed the stream of information.
“The subjects continue to remain stable.”
Ren flinched from the clinical terms. Subjects. Then he bristled. He was a star host, and Asher would do well to remember that.
“The female is in control of her power. There have been no incidents. The male…”
Here, Asher trailed off. He put down the tablet he dictated into and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He pushed the tablet away and turned to the bed.
“Oh, Ren,” he muttered. “What is going on with you?” He plopped onto the bunk and hit his pillow twice. “I don’t know how to help you.”
Asher seemed reluctant, confused, and sad. He didn’t gleefully recount that Ren had nearly killed them that morning—while in the throes of panic, but no less dangerous for that. Asher didn’t report the incident or Ren’s confession. And when Asher sighed and kicked off his shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head, Ren spied the marred flesh of his shoulder, the shredded Corps tattoo, the reminder that Asher had suffered at the hands of the Corps himself. Yet, he had faith.
Ren’s heart lurched.
Asher wore a tough front most of the time, but still waters ran deep. Ren ached to be with him, ached to wrap his arms around Asher and hold on, keep him safe, bolster him.
He couldn’t.
Ren blinked his eyes open, fully present in his body. He sat across from Millicent, and his heart thumped, his pulse raced, and he could feel the moisture gather in the corners of his eyes.
“Ren?” Millicent asked. “Are you okay?”
He breathed. “I’m… fine. I think?”
“Where did you go?”
“Comm system,” he said. He flexed his fingers and absently touched the cool deck plate. “Asher is awake.”
Millicent frowned. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t feel it.”
“I could.” Ren wiped at his eyes. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to feel anymore. I’m… adrift.”
Millicent gave him a commiserating glance. “Maybe you shouldn’t worry about how you feel right now. Focus on being present in yourself, in your star and in your body. You’re putting yourself in danger if you can’t control it.”
“I’m putting everyone in danger.” Ren hunched and crossed his arms. “For so long all I wanted to do was be out here in space, among the stars, and now I think it would’ve been better if I had never left Erden, if I had stayed and hid and let Asher leave on his own.”
Millicent blinked her large eyes and pursed her lips. “Then he would have won. And your friends would be in danger—or dead.”
And Ren couldn’t argue with that. He ducked his head and traced the scratches that adorned the deck plate of the cargo bay.
“You need rest,” she said.
Ren nodded. Despite sleeping all day, he hadn’t recovered from the past few weeks of insomnia and interrupted sleep. He had to look better for tomorrow when he would check in with VanMeerten.
He needed to give Asher reasons not to doubt him, not to have to choose between him and the Corps, because Ren was fairly certain he’d lose.
“Goodnight, Millicent.”
She smiled, small and private. “Goodnight, Ren. Sweet dreams.”
“Let’s hope.”
With that, Ren left the cargo bay and slipped like a ghost through the hallways to his room.
* * *
Ren was lost. He was in the forest, that much he knew. He could see the sinking sun through the trees and the canopy of leaves. He listened for the sound of anyone or anything, but it was silent: no birds, no wind, no animals scampering in the underbrush, no life. As he trudged along the winding path, the trees loomed, blocking the meager light, casting shadows that danced and threatened. Their spindly branches reached out, grabbed at his jacket, dug their claws into the fabric, and held him. Ren pulled away from the terrifying embrace, as the forest creaked, the tree bark moaned, and terror seized Ren’s heart.
He ran. Legs pumping, Ren burst through the bracken and stumbled onto a familiar beach. The sun disappeared over the horizon with an unnatural quickness, and the stars and broken moon cast sparkles on the water. Ren’s feet sank in the sand, and, when he tried to move, he was stuck fast. The air was syrupy, sticky and dense. He struggled to inhale and his hands shook as he clutched at his shirt.
Ren looked behind him and the forest swayed, menacing and unreal. But Ren recognized this beach; he recognized the lake and the sky. A memory stirred, and then a name.
“Liam!” he yelled.
He was on Erden. This was his and Liam’s lake. He remembered. He remembered lying in the sand before the floaters came, carted him away, and scared Liam into hiding, beyond Ren’s reach.
“Liam!” he yelled again; his voice caught on his brother’s name.
He managed to pull his foot from his boot, leaving it in the quicksand. He moved toward the water, and from one wave to the next, the water turned from clear blue to red.
Crimson foam and red froth slapped on the shore and smelled of metal and fear. Ren tasted it in the back of his throat.
“Liam!”
“Ren,” the voice came from next to him, over his shoulder. The breath was hot against his ear.
“Liam?” He spun and caught sight of a f
leeting shadow. But there was nothing behind him, and Ren knew he was chasing a ghost.
He ran anyway, moving slowly, his limbs heavy. Even his blinking was slowed by the viscous atmosphere. Sound returned in the soft slap of the waves on the shore and the torture of Liam’s voice taunting him.
“Why did you leave me?” Liam’s voice echoed, accusatory and broken.
“I didn’t!” Ren shouted, desperate. “I was taken. They took me away. I didn’t want to leave!”
“You left me. You left me.”
Ren spun in a circle and the wash of colors of the forest and the lake blended in his vision. He smelled the tang of the blood-water.
“I will find you,” Ren said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I will find you. I promise. I will bring you home.”
“You can’t.”
“I will!”
The voice faded, and with it the presence of whomever had been with him. Ren became frantic, pleading. “Liam?” He dropped to his knees and scrabbled along the beach; his hands sank into the wet sand. “Liam!”
“Ren,” the voice was next to him now, but deeper, softer, not Liam’s.
Ren sobbed.
“Ren, wake up.”
Ren rocketed out of sleep. There were no alarms, no indication he had entered the workings of the ship, but he had been dreaming.
Asher’s arms were strong around him, and Ren fought. He pushed until he was no longer trapped and fell to the deck plate. His body hurt, sore from the dream, sore from slapping against the metal. He flailed his limbs and noted they moved at their normal speed, unhindered. He breathed and it was no longer a labor. Gaze wild, he looked around the room and saw the gleaming walls of the ship. Looking up, he saw Jakob’s picture and a new star chart.
“Ren?” Asher crouched, and his voice was soft, as if he was gentling a wild animal.
Ren held up a hand. “Don’t touch me,” he gasped. “Don’t. Stay away. I can’t… I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
Asher nodded. He curled his fists against his thighs. “Okay. I won’t touch you.”
“Liam?”
“You were dreaming.”