Another shot pierced the air and implanted in the fallen wheel on the cockpit floor between them. It threw Marin back a step, and forced her to listen to the call from the larger boat slowing fifty yards behind the stern.
“PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS.”
Her body trembled with the volume of the voice, her muscles twitching with adrenaline. She knew what waited for her if they took her alive. A terreno prison. A life of walls and barred doors. Maybe she deserved it for the things she’d done to her father, and even stupid Picker, but Luc deserved it more.
Knowing the Armament would shoot her if she killed him, she threw the knife over the side of the boat. Luc shook his head, then turned and ducked under the boom, making for the opposite side.
Launching toward him, she threw her body forward into the cockpit. One step on the fallen steering console gave her the height she needed to leap toward her brother, and with outstretched arms, she landed against his back, throwing him to the gleaming, glass-covered floorboards.
They fell in a heap, rage pounding in Marin’s head, forcing her hands into fists. The shards of glass cut her elbows and pricked through the knees of her pants, but she didn’t hesitate. She clambered over him, wrapped her forearm around his throat, and pulled back.
He snuck a hand in just in time to keep his windpipe open, but she had the leverage, and groaned as she attempted to choke him out. Still, he was bigger, all wiry muscles, and in a surge of power, he flipped them both onto their sides.
“Stupid little girl,” he growled. “I’m doing this for us, for our people. Finally, the terrenos will pay for what they did.”
“You’re no better than they are,” she said, throwing herself back to avoid his swinging fist. Her back slammed against the hard side compartments. “Taking free people. Throwing them in the gomi fields. Making them fight to stay alive.”
His eyes widened, black pupils nearly overtaking the rings around them. “You want to die? Is that what you want? They won’t take mercy on you, soeur. They’ll break you, and then feed you to the moonfish.”
His spit peppered her cheeks. The pungent smell of sweat and tar made her eyes water as he rose on his knees and twisted toward her. His elbow connected hard with her jaw, and sent her reeling back, vision tilting sideways.
“You think that boy is going to help you?” He fell toward her, throwing a punch into her stomach. Her organs jammed upward, forcing the air from her lungs. Weakly, she coughed, protecting her middle with her trembling forearms.
“He’s already forgotten you,” Luc hissed. “He’s back in his castle, and you’re still nothing but trash.”
It hurt, worse than any blow, because she knew he might be right. The chances she would ever see Ross again were slim. But that changed nothing. She would fight for him as he’d fought for Adam—to the very end.
Swinging hard, she hit him square in the cheek. Her hand stung, but she hit him again. His lip cracked, spilling blood down his chin.
A great shadow fell over him, and then she heard the voice of the Armament, booming in her ears.
“SURRENDER AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED.”
Distracted, Luc flinched, and in that moment, she tackled him, knees on his shoulders, pinning down his arms. Her hands went around his throat, pressing down, and she watched as his eyes again went wide, this time not in fury, but in fear.
Her blood buzzed. Her body trembled with power.
She could end his reign forever. Stop others from hurting because of him, from being like him, from ever tasting his precious tar.
Her father’s face appeared before her, like a mask over Luc’s features.
There are two kinds of people in this world: ones that stab you in the chest, and ones that stab you in the back.
And then there were those like Ross, who didn’t have to hurt anyone at all.
She released her brother at once, leaving him sputtering, blinking.
“I’m not trash,” she said, through heavy breaths.
Behind her, she heard the heavy boots of the Armament. Without looking, she raised her hands in surrender. Roughly, she was dragged back, then thrown onto her stomach and told to weave her fingers behind her head. She did so without a fight, eyes on Luc the whole time.
They asked her name, and where she was from, and how she’d gotten the boat. She said nothing, because no answer would help her.
Marin turned as two men in blue uniforms escorted Roan Teller from below deck. Her eyes were wild, her hair disheveled. She wobbled between the soldiers, claiming she’d been drugged.
“Pirates,” she huffed. “I was abducted by pirates.”
“Me too!” Luc straightened, wiping the blood from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. “We’re lucky to be alive, aren’t we, love?”
“Don’t call me that!” she screeched. “He’s one of them.” Roan pointed an accusing finger in his direction, as if this weren’t the most obvious thing in the world.
“That’s no way to treat a friend,” he said, offended. “Especially not one you’ve paid so handsomely.”
The Armament soldiers looked from Luc to Roan. Marin had to hand it to her brother; he didn’t go down easily.
“I would never!” She backed away from him as if she were afraid she might catch a disease. “I’ve never seen this man in my life before today.”
Luc’s expression hardened.
“And her.” Roan blinked at Marin. “I have no idea where she came from. Probably one of his lackeys or something. Goodness. I’m lucky to be alive.”
The Armament tried to help her sit down, but she shook them off.
“I have to see the president,” she said. “Take me to him, right away. I have important information he needs to hear. Matters of national security. Information regarding his son.”
“Why don’t you take it easy,” offered one of the soldiers.
“He’s a threat to national security!” she bellowed. “Roosevelt Torres has been making deals with pirates!”
“Ross had nothing to do with it,” Marin said, her first words spoken since the arrival of the Armament.
The officer at Roan’s arm gave her a strange, wilting look that made Marin realize she probably should have continued on in silence. He crouched to where she lay, and pulled back her hair, revealing the black ink tattoo just below her ear.
“Eighty-Six,” he said grimly. And then, “Inform the president we have a situation.”
CHAPTER 34
ROSS WAS lined up, facedown in the mud with the other Shoreling rioters. Though they told him to shut up, he kept talking, kept telling them his name, until finally he was removed from the group and given an eye scan.
The officer who ID’d him was a woman with raven black hair and tired, worried eyes. She apologized profusely for the confusion, and said that she would bring him to his father immediately.
He refused to leave the scene without Adam. And when Adam was lifted off the ground, he refused to leave at all.
“Bring my father here,” Ross insisted. “And Noah Baker as well, please.”
“What is going on?” Barreling through the crowd was a security officer, dressed in a familiar navy suit. His bald head gleamed with perspiration as he shoved through the patrolmen who had gathered around Ross and Adam.
“Tersley?” Ross felt something well up in his chest in his old bodyguard’s presence. The feeling was so powerful, he nearly forgot how they’d parted ways.
“Ross.” Tersley hooked a hand behind Ross’s neck and smashed him into an embrace. Tears burned in Ross’s eyes. There were things he wanted to tell him, about Marin, and the boats, and how he’d fought a pirate, just like Tersley had shown him so long ago. Instead, he patted the big man’s back.
As if remembering his station, Tersley whipped away, arms dropping to his sides. Beside them, Adam was helping one of the rioters, a woman whose head was bleeding.
“How’d you know I was here?” Ross asked.
“I was just over at the ceremony,�
� said Tersley. “Your eye scan registered on my comm.”
It could have been standard procedure, or something he’d been ordered to do, but Ross felt a well of gratitude that he’d been looking.
As always, he was here before Ross’s father.
“You look like hell, kid,” said Tersley, resting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Ross shook his head. Tersley turned to Adam, the scar on his jaw pulled tight, relief in his eyes.
“You?”
“I’m fine.” Adam straightened his hurt leg, as if to hide the injury.
“Good,” said Tersley. His cheeks grew pink. “Good. I’m glad.”
Ross glanced back to Roan Teller’s boat, now closed in on both sides by Armament warships. The dark uniforms of the sailors flashed over the siding. He couldn’t see Marin from where they stood, or her brother, and the fear of what had happened since he’d run toward the riots cut deep into his bones.
“Tersley, I need a favor,” said Ross.
“Let’s talk favors later,” said his old bodyguard. “If I don’t get you to your folks, I’m dead. I’ve outlived all my second chances.”
Ross planted his feet. “It has to be now.”
Tersley’s brows lifted.
Quickly, Ross explained what was happening on the boat, and how they’d come to be in the riots.
“The girl from that shop in the docks?” Tersley asked, leaning close. “The one I…”
Ross nodded.
Tersley exhaled roughly, one hand splayed over his chest.
“Help her,” Ross said. “For me. She’s the only one on that boat who isn’t lying.”
After a brief hesitation, Tersley grabbed the nearest patrolman and spouted off a quick list of orders, then turned back to Ross. “The two of you better be here when I get back, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Ross. Adam snorted.
As he jogged away, Adam nudged him with his elbow.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said, staring toward Roan Teller’s boat. “Marin’s tougher than anyone there.”
“I know,” said Ross. But that didn’t make him feel any better.
* * *
Noah Baker was the first family member to arrive. Wearing casual pants, and a shirt that wasn’t even buttoned straight, he burst from the back of the government car and ran toward the park bench where they waited. Ross rose immediately, but Adam, struggling with his leg, grimaced, and pulled himself up by the armrest.
“Adam?” Noah threw his arms around his son, nearly knocking both of them over. Tears streaked his dark face, and though it felt like a ratchet tightening in Ross’s chest to watch, he did not look away.
“You’re both all right.” Noah grasped Ross’s shoulder and pulled him close as well. They’d never embraced before. They’d barely even shaken hands. But crushed against Noah’s chest he felt a strange sense of comfort.
Their mothers had arrived by the time Noah finally let them go. Mrs. Baker was already bawling by the time she reached them, and kissed Adam so many times he turned a deep shade of red and sat back in his seat to get a little breathing room.
Ross’s mother took his hand, pulling him toward the cars. She was shaking, blinking back the tears so as not to make a scene. She wasn’t wearing her usual makeup, and her hair was flat, like in the mornings just after she woke up. He remembered she’d thought he might be dead, and felt awful.
She informed him his father would meet them in private.
Ross’s feet rooted to the ground. Beside him, on the bench, Adam’s dad was examining his son’s leg and calling for a medic. Ross doubted the concept of gossip or privacy had even crossed Noah Baker’s mind.
“Dad needs to meet us here.” Ross knew what he was asking. His father was a public figure. The public figure. Showing up on this side of the relocation activities, with his son dressed this way, would be more of a story than the Pacifica launch.
His mother’s lip quivered, her gaze returning again and again to the Shoreling rioters just beyond in the grass, but to her credit, she stepped aside to grasp her assistant’s arm.
The call was made, and less than five minutes later, George Torres arrived.
The team of security surrounded the president like a moving wall, hiding his father from view until they broke rank to surround the two families. The suit he’d chosen for relocation day was as dark blue as the sails on Roan’s boat, but the bruised half circles beneath his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and worry.
George Torres did not rush toward his son the way Noah had Adam. He walked carefully over the dirt, chin held high. It was only when they were standing a foot apart that he spoke.
“Son.” His voice cracked over the word.
Waves of emotion pelted Ross, making it difficult to stay standing. Making it difficult to speak at all. He’d trusted this man his entire life, looked up to him, believed in him. He’d wanted nothing more than for his dad to show up at a track meet, but instead he’d been working, always working, and Ross had justified it, told himself that it was okay because his dad was important, and the country was important, and Ross was just a kid who could barely read his own name.
He’d never considered that he had the right to feel disappointed.
“We need to talk,” said Ross.
Set aside from the others, Ross told his father how he’d gone for Adam, and how Marin and he had been intercepted by the Armament and ambushed at the station on the old oil rig. How they’d escaped, and survived a storm, and that she’d brought him to Careytown, where he’d learned about the 86, and the old war with the SAF, and been brought as a hostage to meet Roan Teller.
“Ross.” His father’s eyes widened. He moved closer. “This is not the place.”
“She’s in the boat behind us,” said Ross. “The one with the blue sails.” He lifted his chin. “I know about Pacifica. I know that Roan’s been making deals with the pirates to take the first five hundred to an island of trash.”
George Torres looked in horror at the boat, still in the harbor, blocked in by the two larger warships.
“That’s a very serious accusation,” he said slowly.
Tell me it’s not true, Ross thought. But his father did not.
“The pirate’s there too.” Ross’s words came faster now, trying to fit it all in before he was forced to stop. “The one accepting the money. He tried to kill me, but I escaped. Marin sailed us back here.”
“Marin,” said his father blankly. “Another pirate.”
“She’s not a pirate anymore,” Ross said.
While his father turned gradual shades of white, Ross detailed the things they had figured out sailing toward the harbor—how the SAF was supplying the 86 with weapons, and how Luc planned to attack the Armament.
His father told him to stop. A whisper at first, and then louder, and louder, until his voice broke through the other conversations around them.
“I will not stop,” said Ross, squaring his shoulders. “You know the SAF is moving their troops and that they’re supplying weapons to those the Alliance has kicked out. You have to do something.”
“Do something?” The president’s hands opened before him. “I’m still trying to figure out how you abducted a government official.”
Hot fury bit at the base of Ross’s neck. “You should be more concerned with sending hundreds of Alliance citizens out to an island of trash.”
It was clear in his father’s face that of all the things he had said, this was the least expected. Concern warped into anger, then to panic, every emotion playing across his face filling Ross with a validation he didn’t want to have. His father had known what was happening all along. He had agreed to condemn over five hundred innocent people. Even if it hadn’t happened yet, he was still guilty of terrible things, and Ross was disgusted.
His father grabbed his shoulder, speaking in a low, pressured voice.
“You can’t tell anyone this, understand? It’s important you understa
nd.”
Ross shook free, tired of the secrets and games.
“Do you remember what you told me when the Bakers moved to the South Wing?” Shock had his father’s mouth gaping open, though if it was because of the information, or Ross’s defiance, he didn’t know.
“You told me that it wasn’t going to be easy, but that it was my job to make sure Adam fit in here.”
“Ross.”
“It’s the only thing you’d ever asked me to do.”
Ross had taken the job seriously because he’d wanted his dad to be proud of him. He’d stuck up for Adam when the others had picked on him. They’d traveled to school together in the same car, and sat together, even when Ross’s friends had gone to another table. And then there’d been the incident in the locker room, when the other guys had wanted Adam expelled, had expected him to go along with it just like every other rich, spoiled kanshu. It had been that moment he’d realized he wasn’t, and that he didn’t want to be, and that this “job” of looking out for the Shoreling kid had turned into something he was willing to stand up for.
“Now I’m asking you to do something for me,” said Ross. “Be the kind of person I always thought you were.”
George Torres hung his head, hiding his thoughts but not his strife.
“Mr. President.” It was Noah who was speaking, calling from the opposite side of the bench, where a team of soldiers was approaching. Roan Teller was near the front, stalking toward them, and the sight of her made Ross’s stomach feel like he’d swallowed nails.
Behind her was Luc, wrists in cuffs.
And off to the side was Marin, walking a full body’s length away from Tersley, and eyeing him as if he might spontaneously combust.
She was alive. He hoped that someday he’d stop being surprised by that simple fact.
Ross turned his attention back to his father, though everything within him screamed to join Marin.
“Choose better friends, Dad. Pretty soon we’re going to run out of fuel, and handing people over to pirates cannot be the only solution.”
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