Eomix Galaxy Books: Identity (Book 2 of 2)

by Yelich-Koth,Christa

  And Jacin Jaxx’s final words as he addressed Trey’s homeworld after ending the war: “You do not need to live in fear anymore!”

  Trey walked faster around his office at this last memory, his fists clenched next to his thighs.

  “What a fool I was, believing in him,” he said. “What a waste of skill and talent. I won’t make the same mistake.” Spittle formed in the corner of his mouth and he hastily wiped it away. “Your daughter will fix your mistakes!”

  A beep brought him out of his rant. With a sharp tap, he opened the communications panel.

  “Yes,” he snapped.

  “Morning, Commander,” the voice on the other line said.

  “Lieutenant Commander Cenjo. What do you want?”

  “I thought we could meet to discuss Daith’s progress.”

  Trey closed his eyes for a moment. “Come to my office in a standard hour.”

  “Yes, Commander. Cenjo out.”

  Trey cut the channel and rubbed his eyes, his smooth fingertips soft against his skin. He knew what the report would be. It’s what all the reports indicated—Daith still wasn’t progressing with her abilities.

  Trey’s anger left a nasty taste in his mouth. He hated this place. He hated this crew.

  He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to move ahead with his plan. It was time to push Daith forward and if she burned out, he would continue anyway.

  Trey placed an outgoing vidlink call and left a message for the recipient on the other end:

  “Kyla, it’s Xiven. We are a go in two standard weeks. Implement our chain vidlink calls to our next planetary members. Make sure those worlds hate the Aleet Army.”

  Daith sat in the mess hall. Usually she avoided the place, hating that most of the crew evaded her, like she was some sort of monster. But she couldn’t stay in her quarters. Alone in her room, her stomach clenched every time she thought about using her abilities. After Cenjo had asked her to heal him, she felt terrified. Even the thought of practicing her powers by melting datapads scared her. Within moments, she’d broken out in a sweat. Her quarters seemed to shrink, pressing in on her from all sides. She bolted from the room and headed to the mess hall.

  After being on board the past few weeks, Daith knew the crew’s schedule well enough, and when the mess hall would be empty. At the moment, only two cadets sat in the room that could hold 200.

  Her kilari root soup turned cold while she sat. The huge knot inside made eating impossible.

  The door to the hall slid open and out of reflex, Daith looked up. A young woman, one of the pilots, entered the room. Her bronze skin shimmered under the harsh lights, giving her a sickly glow.

  Ishia had been one of the first in the crew to avoid Daith, so when she veered straight toward her, Daith’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

  “Miss Tocc.”

  “Yes?”

  “May I sit?”

  Daith’s gaze flittered around the room. The two other cadets both stared, turning their glances away hastily.

  “Of course.”

  Ishia took a seat across from her, her posture rigid, her amber eyes wide. She looked terrified.

  A struggled smile wiggled on Daith’s face. “What can I do for you?”

  “I heard a rumor you can fix machines. Is that true?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean….”

  Ishia gripped her hands tightly to stop them trembling. “I have a problem. With one of the piloting consoles. On the bridge.” Each phrase came out short and punctuated. “It’s my duty to repair it, but I’m having difficulty. Can you assist?”

  Daith’s body rippled. Part of her constricted with horror at the thought of using her abilities. But another part of her tingled with excitement. A crewmember was asking her for help.

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  Ishia’s words came out rushed. “I don’t know. Will you come look at it? I’m supposed to have it ready in a few standard hours for Commander Xiven, but I don’t think I can get it fixed by then. I don’t want him to dismiss me if the console isn’t working in time.”

  Daith’s stomach churned. Come on, Daith! You can do this. Start by saying yes.

  “Okay. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll come take a look.”

  Ishia’s shoulders relaxed. “My gratitude,” she gushed. “When are you available?”

  Daith glanced at her cold soup. Her lip curled at the sight of the slimy coagulated layer on its surface. “I’m free right now.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, standing. “Please follow me.”

  The two of them left the mess hall and wove their way down the bridge. Four crewmembers staffed the area—all sitting at consoles that faced the chair in the center of the room. Ishia led them to the second station on the left. A blank screen reflected Daith’s pale face.

  “I believe the navigation system is malfunctioning, but I can’t determine how. When I insert a command, an alternate result occurs.”

  Daith took a seat on the floor, ignoring the looks from the other crewmembers. “Why didn’t you ask someone from engineering to help?”

  Ishia squatted next to her. “They have no one to spare at the moment. Preparations keep everyone busy and time is limited.” She unscrewed a panel and opened up the console. Wires, conduits, and lights filled the space.

  Daith felt her chest tighten. What did she think she was doing? She wasn’t ready for this. What if she did more damage? What if she blew the whole thing up?

  Daith closed her eyes. One step at a time. She let the warmth build inside her, pushing her mind forward, looking into the circuitry.

  A snicker sounded behind her.

  Daith opened her eyes and swiveled toward the sound. Ishia stood, hands on her hips.

  “What’s your problem, Poka?” she demanded.

  The culprit leaned forward over his console, his flat, featureless, purple face covered in fungi-like shapes. A slit on his forehead opened. “You called her to the bridge to help you? Don’t tell me you actually believe she can do anything. Her so-called powers are fancy lighting and cheap tricks. A telepath projecting lies.”

  Daith’s face burned. “Excuse me?”

  Purple drool hung on the corner of his slit. “You heard me. We are wasting time on a joke. We don’t need your help. We can do this mission without you.”

  Shame and anger hit her.

  Ishia spoke up in defense. “What about Sequiria’s nose? She broke it last week in the simulation room during training. How do you explain that?”

  Poka waved his four arms and pincered hands. “Who knows? Maybe Sequiria hit herself and shifted the blame? No one saw the medical report. That traitor Doctor Ludd erased everything when he left.”

  Ishia’s face fell.

  Daith had enough. The reminder that Dr. Ludd had left her, the constant apprehensive energy she felt from the rest of the crew, and her anger at her own lack of progress shifted totally and completely onto Poka. “You make me sick,” she said. She pushed herself to her feet and strode over to Poka’s console. He puffed up, preparing to defend himself.

  “You keep away from me, you liar. I don’t care if you’re Commander Xiven’s prize—you do anything to me and I’ll paralyze you.” He held his slit open, wide. The purple saliva pooled in his mouth, bubbling and hissing.

  “Please.” Daith allowed the heat inside her to well up and flow into her hand. With a dramatic slam, she plunged it onto the console. The surface bubbled and crackled. Her hand submerged itself into a hot goo. Pulling back, she showed him a blistering palm, which smoothed out into healed skin while he watched.

  With a smirk, Daith whirled away from Poka and returned to the console. Still hot with anger, her energy narrowed into a tight beam. She quickly located the problem within the console, a faulty wire, something Ishia wouldn’t have discovered without testing each one. Allowing the heat to fill inside her, she directed it toward the wire, mended its weak points, and felt the energy surge back through it.

  “All
fixed,” she told Ishia.

  Ishia sputtered a thank you.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Daith said, wiping her runny nose. Her sleeve came away with a crimson splotch. “See you around.” She hurried off the bridge, sleeve pressed against her face. When she reached her quarters, her legs buckled. She tumbled onto the bed, exhausted, but giggling uncontrollably.

  The look on Poka’s face. She’d never felt such satisfaction.

  Spurts of laughter barked out of her. She could barely breathe, her eyes brimmed with tears.

  Get a hold of yourself!

  With harsh gasps she calmed down.

  The door chimes rang.

  Daith sat up abruptly. “Just a moment,” she called. With a quick wipe her tears were gone. Two flips rolled up her sleeves, hiding the blood stains. “Enter.”

  Ishia stood in the doorway. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” The words came quick and eager. Daith willed herself to slow down. “Is there something wrong with the bridge console?”

  Ishia stepped inside. Daith opened up her senses to feel the woman’s emotions. Fear, yes, but also curiosity and gratitude.

  “The console works perfectly.”

  “Then why are you here?” Daith winced at the harshness of the words.

  Ishia frowned at Daith’s tone. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

  “You’re not. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to anyone on the crew being friendly.”

  Ishia gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. “I want to tell you I don’t agree with Poka’s opinion, but I understand his viewpoint. Most of us felt strange when Commander Xiven brought aboard an outsider to help. When we heard what you could do, we feared he merely meant to replace his old leader.”

  “Don’t you mean your old leader?”

  Ishia shook her head and swiveled her body toward Daith. “I did not belong to his crew during that time. In fact, very few of us did. I believe Commander Xiven and Lieutenant Commander Cenjo are the only ones left. I only joined a standard year ago.”

  Daith hesitated. “Can I ask why you joined?”

  Ishia smiled and the pressure in Daith’s chest eased.

  “I was a small fledgling when the Aleet Army came to help my planet. Until that time, I had only known terror. Our world fought others for generations because of a mistake from decades earlier. But Jacin Jaxx met with all the governments and in that one day, the officials called a truce. No one at the time really knew how he did it.”

  Daith felt an inkling of despair creep into her belly. “And then he died.”

  Ishia nodded, the smile gone from her face. “Whatever hold he had on my planet disappeared in an instant. The Controllers, or Liberators as they called themselves, reignited our passion for revenge. Within a few standard months, our peace dissolved. When I grew old enough, I left my planet. I heard a rumor of others who did not agree with Controller actions. These rumors led me to Commander Xiven.”

  Daith thought for a moment, cycling through Ishia’s words. “What does Trey think he can accomplish against the Controllers with one ship and such a small crew?”

  Ishia straightened. “Commander Xiven is a man of many talents and I have seen him accomplish much against heavy odds. He knows Sintaur is the Controllers’ base and so that is where we must begin to change things.”

  “Sintaur? Isn’t that Trey’s… I mean Commander Xiven’s homeworld?”

  Daith’s door chimes interrupted Ishia’s answer. Ishia raised an eyebrow.

  “Come in,” Daith called out.

  The door slid open and Trey stepped into the room. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

  Ishia jumped to her feet. “Commander!”

  “No need for alarm, Cadet Ikar.” He paused. “Weren’t you supposed to be working on the bridge’s piloting console?”

  “It’s fixed, Commander.”

  Daith could sense fear emanating from Ishia.

  “She came from repairing it when we bumped into each other in the corridor,” Daith lied. “I invited her in since her next shift doesn’t start for a standard hour. Thought I could get to know someone from the crew a little better.”

  Relief swept through Ishia so hard it nearly knocked Daith over.

  Trey gave a sharp nod. “An excellent idea. In fact, it’s about time you met everyone on board, don’t you think?”

  “Um…sure?”

  “Perfect. We’ll meet tomorrow before main shift starts in the mess hall.” He directed his next words toward Ishia. “Finished, Cadet?”

  Ishia gulped. “Yes, Commander.”

  “On your way, then. You can see Daith tomorrow with the rest of the crew.”

  Ishia gave Daith a quick glance. Daith felt a warmth emanate from her—it made her feel safe and content. A feeling of friendship.

  Ishia slid around the Commander and out of the room.

  Trey stared at the closed door for a moment before returning his attention to Daith. “It’s nice to see you interacting with some of the crew. I’m sorry I didn’t think about introducing you to everyone sooner. So much has happened. It hasn’t really sunk in that you are now a part of this crew.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  “I also heard you’ve been making progress in your sparring sessions with Lieutenant Commander Cenjo?”

  Daith laughed. “Well, I hit him once, if that counts.”

  “It most certainly does. The Lieutenant Commander is a highly regarded physical combatant. He used to be a master champion for his nation, he competed all across his world and others.”

  Daith couldn’t believe it. “I didn’t know that.”

  “In fact, he’s never been bested by anyone on this vessel. It’s not surprising though, with abilities like yours.”

  “That’s the funny part—I didn’t use my abilities. I mean, I tried, but he was too fast.”

  Trey raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Daith nodded. “It seemed like he wasn’t thinking about what he planned next, so there wasn’t anything I could grab hold of with my mind. His body responded before he made a move.”

  Trey clasped his hands in front of him and took a more relaxed stance. “That’s fascinating, Daith. I wonder if—”

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Daith jumped at the pounding. Trey whipped his head toward the door.

  “Open up in there, you freak!” Words poured through the door like oily acid. “I know who you are. I found you.”

  A fury pressed upon Daith. Rage swelled in her chest though her heartbeat remained steady, her breathing normal. She didn’t understand what was going on inside her.

  Then she realized it wasn’t her anger, but Trey’s. For the first time, she could fully feel his emotions. His being shook with white-hot energy, tinged red with wrath.

  Trey slammed his hand on the button to open the door. “TRAITOR!”

  There stood Poka, his purple face contorted with hatred. In a moment it slid into a greyish, puckered oval. Terror pulsed off him in waves. The emotional energy battered against Trey’s as Daith watched, stunned into stillness.

  Trey removed something from the front pocket of his uniform and slapped it onto Poka’s cheek. A yelp escaped his lips. He clawed at a small circle.

  Too late.

  The circle erupted tiny claws which sunk into his cheek. With a hiss, toxins inside the chip released.

  Poka gurgled. His skin swelled and turned pale yellow. A gasp escaped him before he crumpled to the floor, deflated like a thick rubber suit.

  Daith screamed. Trey whirled around and struck her across the face.

  Blackness engulfed her.

  Torrak and Kalil checked into a hotel. Kalil’s drowsiness from his pain medication overtook him and he fell asleep the moment he sat on the couch. Torrak propped up his friend’s injured leg before he headed out to find Nuis.

  Their hotel sat south of Lang’s store in a cheap part of the city. Before he left, Torrak took a last look at the crude map Opute had drawn
out for him and headed toward a bar called The Fishbowl. It would take Torrak little less than a standard hour if he went on foot, and he thought it wiser to save any money he could. He wasn't sure if Nuis would require a bribe to answer his questions. Opute had told Torrak money wouldn’t impress Nuis, but Torrak didn’t know of anyone in the smuggling business who couldn’t be bought.

  Heading out of town, he walked past the Central Authority building, tall with tinted windows, and Torrak's mind swirled with thoughts of the past. He knew from childhood he wanted to be a detective. From early on, he had a gift for figuring out answers to puzzles and problems when no one else could. It seemed sometimes the less he thought about trying to solve a case, the faster he did.

  Right before his sixteenth birthday, his father talked to the chief of C-9's governmental authority. He told them about Torrak’s interests and analytical abilities and asked if his son could follow an officer around for awhile during his school’s heat-season break to check out the job. Torrak trained with Teph Slaphen, a female officer who worked in homicide. Toward the end of the heat-season, he started speaking up about cases Teph had been assigned, telling her who he thought were the guilty parties. Teph humored him, listening attentively as one would a small child, until she realized almost every case ended the way he predicted. Over ninety-three percent, in fact. The remaining unsolved cases were either changed due to bargains or had too little evidence. When Torrak turned seventeen the following year, he took the offer to work part-time while still enrolled in class, motivated by Teph’s generous recommendation.

  When school finished, he worked for another three years before deciding to continue his education. Torrak looked into academies for advanced students. He read about Fior Accelerated Academy and started there the following year on a full scholarship.

  Cackles from overhead birds brought him out of his thoughts. Crimson and orange bled into the edges of the sky as The Fishbowl came into view. With quickened steps, Torrak approached the bar while the first of the two suns began to set.