by F. T. Lukens
“What did you see?”
“Everything,” Asher said at the same time Jakob replied with, “Nothing.”
Jakob lied.
Ren nodded with his overheated cheek pressed to the cool floor. He stayed sprawled there for a long moment as his senses came out of the fog of the nightmare like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.
“Did I do anything else?”
Jakob shot a glance to Asher. He licked his lips. “Not this time,” Jakob said, staring over Asher’s shoulder. “No turning off the artificial gravity. No trying to vent the ship. Not even the creepy woman’s voice over the comm telling stories. Just the… images on the vid screen.”
Ren gasped and nodded. “That’s good… that’s better.”
Asher’s mouth twisted.
“Yeah. Incident number six was way better than incident number five when you tried to suffocate us.”
Humor. Levity. Ren couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it.
“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.”
“Are you okay?” Jakob asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar,” Jakob said softly. He mustered a smile in Ren’s direction.
Asher merely frowned.
Ren waved them both away and pushed his aching body upright. He didn’t go far, but chose to remain on the floor, leaning against the lip of his bunk, with his legs crossed.
When he looked up, Jakob was gone, and Asher had stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
Ren sighed. Asher wanted to talk, and Ren’s insides ached with a fierce loneliness he hadn’t experienced since the first night in the cell of the Baron’s citadel. He didn’t want Asher’s words or his pity. And he didn’t want to relive the details of the nightmare, which had sent him twisting in his sheets and crawling across the floor. The sense memories clung to him, like cobwebs whose phantom threads, fluttery and strange and stubborn, brushed against his skin. The strands were infinite; they touched the deep places of Ren’s consciousness and burrowed down to his marrow to pull out the things that terrified him most.
He didn’t want to share the nightmare, but Asher’s flat countenance and sure gaze couldn’t hide his worry. It flashed in his eyes and ran in shaky tremors down the length of his crossed arms, as if he hugged himself to keep in his concerns and not as a defense to reflect whatever Ren had to throw at him.
Ren bent his knees, propped his arm up, and allowed his fingertips to dangle. Sweat flattened his hair against his temples. He regarded Asher coolly as Asher sat on the edge of Ren’s bunk.
“Do you remember when we went dancing?”
Asher blinked at the non-sequitur. “On Mykonos?”
Rowan had taken them dancing in a place with loud music and rotating lights. The beat had vibrated through Ren’s boots. “I had never been dancing like that before.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t bad. Well, not as bad as Jakob.”
“I liked the slow dance.” Asher had grabbed Ren in his arms and pulled him to the dance floor. They’d laughed and moved, and all Ren’s worries had dissolved in happiness and the rhythm of the music. “I liked being with you. With the crew. I miss that.”
“We’re here now, Ren.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re not. It’s different now.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Ren looked away.
“Ren, you’re not okay,” he said flatly.
“No. I’m not, but I didn’t feel like broadcasting it.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Asher said softly. Ren’s stomach twisted. Asher had all but confirmed his latest nightmare had played on the vid screens. The crew had seen what Ren couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember. “You’re getting worse. And they know it.”
Ren twisted his lips. “I’m aware the crew already knows. Pen can’t lie for anything.”
“Not them. The Corps.”
Ren rested his head on his knees. “You told her. You threw me to the wolves.”
“I had to.”
“Why? Do you want me to leave? Be locked away?”
“Stars, Ren. You know I don’t want that.”
“I don’t know what you want, to be honest. I don’t understand why you hold allegiance to them at all.”
“Because I have to. I promised five years.”
“You and your promises,” Ren said bitterly. That was loyalty Ren couldn’t understand, not after what the Corps had done to Asher, not after having left him for a year to rot in a cell on what they called a backwater planet. But Ren was beginning to realize there were things he would never understand and maybe wasn’t meant to.
“And I promised I’d keep you safe. Any way I could. This is the only way. Don’t you understand that?”
Ren felt the slight touch of Asher’s fingertips across the back of his hand. His star sparked and sought out the mechanism in Asher’s shoulder instinctually.
Asher shivered.
“There’s a fine line between safety and captivity.”
Asher tensed and frowned. “You think this is bad? Wait until you get yourself locked away in a real cell.”
Ren laughed. His laughter bordered on hysterical and it bubbled, harsh and loud, from his throat. “You think I don’t know? You think I want to spend my nights mired in dreams? You think I want any of this?”
Asher’s jaw creaked. “I don’t know. You’re certainly acting like you don’t care. What the hell was wrong with you yesterday in front of VanMeerten?”
“Me?” Ren asked, voice breaking. “You’re the one who ratted me out as being unstable.”
Avoiding Ren’s gaze, Asher studied the walls. “It needed to be done. I had to.”
Ren swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He narrowed his eyes, and the sense of being betrayed welled up fresh within him. It bled out from Ren’s core, like a tide, push-pulling its way through him until he was filled with it, until it was a torrent right under his skin.
“I never thought you would become the person I would need to fear.”
Asher whipped his head around and stared, his green eyes bright and furious, at Ren sitting on the floor. His skin turned red, and his mouth pulled into a taut, flat line. His voice quivered, though Ren didn’t know if it was due to fury or shock or both. “You’re afraid of me?”
Ren was hollow down to his bones. He didn’t have it within him to placate Asher, to reassure him. He listed to the side and allowed his head to thump against the pristine wall. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Asher didn’t respond right away, and that was answer enough for Ren.
It seemed Asher didn’t have the humor to respond with his usual, “of a stick like you?” or, “of a duster? Never.”
All the levity that had marked their relationship had been sucked out and replaced with an uneasy truce, which included secrets, tense silences, and duplicity.
Ren rubbed his face. “I can’t do this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Asher’s eyes turned sad. “I know,” he said again softly.
Ren flexed his fingers and kept eyes down. “You were my anchor and now… I’m drifting.”
“I know that, too. You have to… find someone else.”
“Are you telling me to give up on us?” Ren dragged his gaze up to meet Asher’s.
Asher wouldn’t meet his eyes. He picked at his sleep trousers, worrying a thread between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes.”
This moment had been inevitable. Ren had begun to dread it over the last few days and, now it was here, he was oddly relieved. He had imagined the feeling would be akin to a punch to the chest. Ren had envisioned that if he were standing, he would’ve gone weak-kneed and fallen to the deck plate, doubled over and clutching at his heart, barely able
to breathe. But he was sitting, with his legs bent, his chin resting on his knees, his feet flat on the floor. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic. In fact, the pain was more like a throb than a stab, and even that was pitiful compared to what Ren’s thoughts had conjured.
“Oh,” Ren breathed. He knotted his fingers in his shirt. All traces of his earlier anger fled, and he was left with a numbness that settled into his middle. “I guess that’s it, then.”
“I guess it is.” Asher stood. “Ren,” he started, looking down on Ren’s hunched form, “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m doing everything I can. Even if I can’t be your tether, I’m going to follow through on my promises. All of them.”
And there was the dagger-sharp pain Ren had been waiting for. It came wrapped in familiar language and concern, in a combination of truth and lies and pity. It sliced through Ren, making his eyes sting and his hands tremble.
“Please go,” he said, blinking.
Asher nodded. “Report in an hour,” he said. “If you’re up for it. I can cover for you, maybe, if you’d rather–”
“I’ll be there,” Ren said his voice was a whisper. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and willed himself to be stronger. “I’ll be there. I don’t want to arouse suspicion, especially after last time. So I’ll be there.”
“All right. Ren, I–”
“Please leave.” Ren squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear any more.
Asher didn’t hesitate, and Ren heard his slow footsteps as he crossed the room. He paused at the threshold, but, to Ren’s relief, didn’t say anything and left, softly closing the door behind him.
Ren stayed on the floor for a long moment. Then he opened his eyes, shook his hand from the fabric of his shirt, and pressed his fingertips to the floor. He slid into the ship, cast off his body, and stayed in the freedom of the systems as long as he could.
* * *
The defiance that had marked Ren’s appearance in front of VanMeerten the day before had tempered into a feeling less fierce, less incendiary—a slow-burning stubbornness. He yearned to go home, to find Liam, to see his village, but those desires had shifted to the back of his mind after his conversation with Asher that morning. His immediate thoughts centered on other matters, such as staying sane without an anchor.
However, he lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes when the general appeared on screen.
For the first time since the check-ins had started, VanMeerten appeared human. A few flyaway strands of her iron-gray hair escaped her bun. She had a worry line between her eyebrows, and, while her medals still shined, there was a crease in her uniform.
It didn’t seem like a victory. Ren didn’t look much better, wearing his sleep clothes, barefoot, hair mussed. Their confrontation had taken a toll on both of them. Ren wondered what that meant.
“Good morning,” Rowan said from her position between Ren and Millicent.
“Hello, Captain Morgan. I trust everyone is well.”
Rowan was thrown by the politeness. “Sure?” she answered.
VanMeerten nodded. “Good.” She lifted a manila folder from her desk and shuffled a few papers. “Corporal Morgan has reported that the male star host has been experiencing vivid nightmares bordering on hallucinations and has unconsciously caused failures in several different systems aboard your ship. He shows symptoms of mental decompensation. He is an active danger, though unintentionally, and could become a substantial threat if his connections with technology continue. Is this correct, Corporal?”
“Yes.” Asher didn’t hesitate.
Ren bristled; his body went tense. He bit his lower lip to keep from lashing out, from saying anything stupid to get him in more trouble.
“And your recommendation is to remove the subject from an artificial environment?”
“Yes. For a while. A break from technology may provide a necessary reset.”
Ren stiffened. His eyes wide, he glared at the side of Asher’s head. Was he recommending Ren be removed from the Star Stream? Did he want Ren to be locked away? Like in the iron cell at the citadel? The star in Ren’s chest pulsed, and the warmth of it spread down his limbs.
“Captain Morgan,” VanMeerten said, tenting her fingers and leveling her hard stare at Rowan. “Does your offer stand of taking the star hosts to their home planet?”
Ren’s mouth dropped open, and he whipped his head around to stare at Rowan.
Rowan blinked. She cast a glance in Ren’s direction; her eyebrows were pulled together. “Excuse me?” she asked, addressing the general.
“Can you take them back to Erden?” VanMeerten said, punctuating each word.
“Yes. Yes, after we finish our current trajectory, we’ll plot a course and—”
“No. It must happen immediately.”
Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “I think I’ve been clear about how I feel in regard to the Corps interfering in my business.”
“I understand, Captain.” VanMeerten said, putting down the papers. “I will have a regiment meet you at your destination.”
“Wait,” Rowan said. “What?”
“To take the male into custody.”
“Explain.”
“If Corporal Morgan’s assessment is correct, then the threat is imminent. Either the star host goes back to the dirt to reset, as the corporal has endorsed, or we take him to the prison near Perilous Space and monitor his progress there.”
Cold fear washed down Ren’s body, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking. He knew that he had pressed last time, but he didn’t think he’d done so much damage. He had touched a nerve, exposed VanMeerten’s fear, and now he paid the price. Ren shrank back and pressed his shoulder blades against the wall.
Rowan’s jaw worked. “That seems a bit of an overreaction.”
VanMeerten smiled, predatory, with the scar on her cheek prominent. “You said yourself he was a danger.”
“But—”
VanMeerten placed her hands on her desk and loomed. “Either the planet or the prison. It’s your choice, Captain.”
Rowan tapped her foot and tugged her braid, then crossed her arms over her chest. Using their eyes, mouths, and eyebrows, she and Asher shared an intense silent conversation, which Ren couldn’t decipher. For a strained moment, Ren thought Rowan would choose her job over him, especially given the influence from Asher. “It’s not much of a choice, is it?” she finally replied. “I’m not going to condemn Ren to another cell.”
“Very well. Your decision is confirmed and will be documented.”
“I’ll have our pilot plot a course to Erden.”
VanMeerten didn’t acknowledge the statement. She cut the video feed. The screen went blank.
The tense atmosphere relaxed as if a taut string had been cut and the ends were fluttering to the ground. Ren sagged against the wall. Rowan bowed her head, and Asher rubbed a hand over his brow. They didn’t speak. Ren silently thanked the stars for Rowan.
“She didn’t ask about me,” Millicent said, softly.
Rowan laughed, breathless. “No, no she didn’t. I think that’s a good thing.”
Millicent’s mouth turned down at the corner, but she shrugged and swayed off the bridge.
“We’re going to have a talk,” Rowan said to Asher. “About what the hell you’re up to.”
Asher shifted uncomfortably. “It got him back to his planet,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “It’s what he wanted.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs.
In disbelief, Ren watched Asher leave.
“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but I think Asher just manipulated a high-ranking military official to make sure you get to go back home.”
Ren’s mouth went dry.
“I think he manipulated me, too,” Rowan said, smiling softly. “Brothers, huh?”
“You’re welcome, string bean. We’ll figure it out.” She tapped her fingertips against her mouth. “We’ll have to. I need to talk to Lucas.” She mustered a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. On her way out, she ruffled Ren’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”
Ren was certain she said it more for her own benefit than his. But it was a nice sentiment. They’d figure it out. In the meantime, he was going home. He was going home.
The thought was a bright spot amid the dark, and Ren clung to it.
* * *
Ren drifted from the bridge to his room to engineering and finally found himself in the cargo bay.
Millicent was not there but Ollie was. He glanced up from where he moved crates around; his brown eyes glinted under the naked light that hung above the expansive room. Ollie’s muscles flexed under his brown skin as he dragged a heavy cargo box across the floor. The sound of scraping was loud and harsh, until he paused near where Millicent kept her rug.
Ollie beckoned to Ren. “Hey, Ren. Got this box in a trade. Might be of interest.”
Ren didn’t think it would be, but Ollie was the first person to interact with Ren since the conversation on the bridge. Ren needed companionship. Maybe it would take the focus off the thoughts in his head and the whispers of the ship around him.
Ren descended the stairs and stood by the crate.
Using a crowbar, Ollie popped off the lid; the wood clattered to the floor. A cloud of dust floated up, and Ren coughed and waved it out of his face.
“Did you know when you traded for it that it was full of junk?”
Ollie shrugged but didn’t answer. He sifted through the parts and pieces of broken tech as Ren peered over his massive shoulder.
Ollie straightened and clapped his hands together to brush off the sawdust.
“Go on then,” Ollie said, gesturing at the broken bits of circuitry.