by CJ Birch
“Put some force behind it.”
“What do you think I’m doing? Playing footsies?”
“Stop fucking around, Jordan, and get it done.”
That does it. My blood boils. I stomp my foot against the base of the chair leg as hard as I can again and again and again. All the rage and helplessness I’ve felt in the past few weeks comes out in a burst of fiery temper. Sarka taking me hostage, the Varbaja recruiting me into a war I don’t want to fight, Ash letting Sarka escape, all of it. A shooting pain starts at the tip of my heel and radiates up my leg, and still I stomp my foot against the chair. I’m panting and sweating, but I couldn’t stop if I wanted.
The only thing that stops me is Sarka. He pulls me away from the chair, which hasn’t even budged. “That’s enough,” he says. “It’s dead.”
I pull free and stalk to the other side of the room still panting, still seething. This is Sarka’s fault. I should leave him here and escape to the flight deck myself. Why am I even bothering? I grab the back of a chair and grip until my knuckles turn white. Why? I don’t need him to survive, not anymore. He deserves to be left behind. This is all his fault.
“It’s my contact,” he says.
I have a hard time figuring out what he means. “What?”
“You’re debating whether to leave me behind. Well, it’s my contact on the flight deck. I’m the one who’s going to get us out of here.” He hobbles closer.
“I have my own contacts.”
“Those idiots who started this whole mess? Not that I’m not grateful, but they’re probably dead.”
“Please don’t act like you haven’t been behind this whole thing. I know when I’m being manipulated.”
He spreads his arms wide and grins. “And yet.”
“Fuck you.”
“Here we are. Exactly as I planned it.”
I storm toward the door. The voices in the hall have stopped. I hold my hand up for Sarka to stop talking, then peer around the door and find the frame blocked by three giant bodies.
I wish Sarka wasn’t right about how this all started, but there’s no other explanation. The three soldiers I met in the lounge that night turned out to be easily persuaded. I set the idea in their head about escaping, and the rest snowballed from there.
We were playing hea mang when Karm, the tough guy of the group, asked if I’d ever been in combat. Now, my life hasn’t been anything like most of the soldiers on this ship. Many grew up here and have never known anything except fighting, but my life hasn’t been cushy. After escaping the Burrs I grew up on a farm where we worked every day. And I’d like to think I held my own against the avians. While I’ve never been at war, I’ve been in life-or-death situations. Even simple everyday decisions as captain force me to put people’s lives in danger.
“Why?” I asked.
“I was thinking about what you said the other day, about how we’re stuck fighting an unwinnable war.” He turned to the other two. “Right? How can we win when we can’t find the enemy?” They all nodded. One of them, Bruto, slammed the three rocks from our hea mang game on the table. “All we do every day is get ready for battle that’s never going to happen. Most of us have never even seen the illya in person. It’s time we take back our lives.” He gulped the rest of his drink and slammed it on the table. “Who’s with me?”
And that’s all it took. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wanted to find someone to fly me out of here, but instead I helped start a revolt.
The bodies blocking the door move aside for a small figure who pushes through their legs. It’s Veera. She spots us in the small corner and waves the men off. “Go check the other rooms.”
“Well, you’ve been busy,” she says to me.
I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about. But I can’t take credit for all of this. “Not really.” I mean, all I did was mention that I wanted to get out of here, and the right person happened to hear me. Besides, Sarka set the whole thing up. He put the idea into my head about a revolt, knowing I would try to be more subtle than that.
“What happened to him?” She walks over and begins poking around his leg. He tries to swat her away, but she persists. “Broken. That needs medical attention. Can you manage with him?”
I’m at a loss. Do we follow her? Is she part of the revolt or the establishment? Judging by her comment the other day, I’d guess she’s for the revolt.
“Depends on how far we have to go,” I say.
“There’s a medical bay at the other end of this deck. I know one of the doctors who’ll help him. No point struggling with a broken leg if you don’t have to.”
Sarka pulls away from me. “We’re better off on our own.”
Veera bares her teeth. I think she was going for a grin but it didn’t work out. “If you’re on your own, I give you half an hour before you’re found and killed. The Varbaja are sweeping the ship looking for any dissidents. With that leg you won’t get far.” She stalks to the door and turns. “Your choice. You’ll last longer with me, though.”
I pull Sarka’s arm over my shoulder. “We’re done doing it your way.” He grunts as he adjusts his weight to hobble on his good foot.
“Your way would’ve failed,” he says. We follow Veera down the hall. “We need the revolt to cover our tracks. While they’re busy getting things under control, they won’t notice one ship taking off. If you’d done it as a lone getaway, you would’ve been caught in an instant.”
“Thought the whole thing through, did you?”
He smirks. “Always.”
“Well, did you think about the authorized takeoffs? Twice a week they have two crews go out to mine nearby asteroids for resources. We could’ve bought our way onto one of those.”
“Okay, smart-ass, then what? When they discover we’re gone, they’ll immediately call in those mining ships.”
“I hadn’t worked that part of the plan out yet. The point is, there are other ways of doing things.”
“Neither plan would’ve worked.” Veera pipes up from up ahead. “You think you’re the first people who wanted to escape? They search all vessels leaving, which means a security officer goes through the entire ship before it departs. Then it’s scanned as it’s leaving. If you had found a way to avoid the officer, the device we implanted when you arrived would’ve sent an electromagnetic pulse to your brain as soon as you passed that scan point, killing you instantly.” That point shuts us both up. Both our plans were obviously flawed.
Veera stops in front of a door with their medical symbol painted on the front. She enters a code, and the doors slide open. “This is the top-ranked Varbaja medical bay. It should be empty now. In a few hours that might change.”
The place is large and white, with minimal equipment. I don’t see any medical staff, but most would’ve evacuated after that first blast.
The first assault came an hour before everyone’s alarm. The perfect time to cause the most confusion. Someone rigged an oven in one of the mess kitchens to explode. It was right below the crew bunks. Everyone heard it. I’m sure many thought it was an attack, something long awaited by many, especially the breen. But it became clear soon that the assault came from inside.
My first thought was that Ash had come with the Persephone—irrational, I know. Then the shouts started up. Soldiers banging on the doors of our bunks ordering us up and out to fight for the new regime. In that moment it hit home that she wasn’t coming for me. Ever. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding on to the hope that she would rescue me. The second my boots hit the ground, Sarka grabbed my arm and steered me in the opposite direction.
We find a lone doctor hidden in one of the far labs. He must be Veera’s contact because he doesn’t balk at helping Sarka. I’m awed by their facilities. As much as humans have progressed in the medical field in the last couple of centuries, we haven’t come as far as some might have thought. When you break a limb it’s still excruciating, it still takes weeks to heal, and the best you can d
o is set it right and stay off it as much as possible. The illya have better medical knowledge than we do.
He instructs Sarka to sit on one of the medical beds and lie down. He squints up at the ceiling. Everything is so white it’s hard to stare at anything without shielding your eyes.
“How did you know?” I ask Veera.
She hops up onto one of the beds adjacent to Sarka and sits. “Know what?”
“The other day, you asked me if it was worth it.”
She taps her head. “I’m an aju. We know things.”
I jump up on the bed and sit beside her. “Know things?” This sounds far-fetched. I read in books about people claiming to read another’s mind, but I don’t think that’s possible. Our thoughts are a mess of electrical pulses transmitted via neurons.
She tilts her head toward the ceiling. “We know things about people. Sometimes they don’t even know it about themselves. Take you, for instance.” She studies me with her dark-purple eyes. “Most of you isn’t here. You live for another. And you will do everything you can to get back to this person.”
“But how did you know all this would happen?”
She laughs. “We can’t predict the future. But I saw an opportunity.” She spreads her arms. “The aju are very good at seizing moments. We listen to the signs. The unrest on this ship has been building for years, and then you come along with your need to escape and your ignorance of the Varbaja. No one escapes the Avokaado, but you didn’t know that, and that element led to this moment.” She slaps my knee. “You and this man were the only ones who could’ve started this revolution, only because you didn’t know it couldn’t be done.”
Sarka grunts from the table. “That’s stupid. You just have to decide to do something, then do it.”
“But don’t you see? The Varbaja don’t think like that. That thought would be chaos to them.”
“All done,” the doctor says. We all stare at Sarka’s leg. It looks exactly the same as it was before. I didn’t even see what the doctor did.
Sarka lifts his leg a little and bends his knee. He grips his thigh with his hands and squeezes. “What did you do?”
The doctor frowns. He’s umquashi like Farge, Tup’s friend. His skin is dark and he has long white hair. “I treated you. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Already?” I ask.
Sarka sits up and tests his leg, putting a little weight on it, then more, until he’s hopping up and down on it. “Well, holy shit. It’s fixed.”
The doctor grabs Sarka’s arm. “Go easy. I’ve repaired the bone, but the bonds will be weak for a few days. Try not to overdo it.”
I roll my eyes. Good luck with that.
“How did you do it?” Sarka asks.
Again the doctor looks confused. “How did I do what?”
“Fix it so it wasn’t broken anymore.”
In that second I discover an expression universal to all species—disdain. The doctor glances from Sarka to me. “If I have to explain it, you won’t understand it.”
Veera slips off the table. “Thank you, Doctor.” She asks Sarka, “Would you like to stay here to rest for a bit? The doctor can find you a bed.”
“Why would I want to rest? My leg’s better.”
“Our forces have taken the bridge. I need to be there to oversee the end result.” She beckons us to follow. For better or worse, we’re in it now. Veera has claimed us. I have no idea if this development is good or bad.
Chapter Seventeen
Ash
Jordan is alive. It’s the only thought I can make sense of at this moment. Everything else is white noise. She’s dressed in a strange uniform, and even from this distance, the pain and anger in her eyes are unmistakable. It takes Yakovich nudging me to break my stupor.
“How did she get on that ship?” she asks.
I have no idea, but her presence fills me with dread. Everything Kalve has said about the Varbaja is a nightmare. She may be alive, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be alive for very long. Sarka steps into view. He’s wearing the same uniform as Jordan. Did they get recruited? Kalve mentioned something about the Avokaado recruiting people. Do they brainwash them too? Why would she be on the bridge standing there like she’s part of the crew?
I step toward Wells. Kalve is speaking to the tiny representative on the other ship, but I’m too absorbed in Jordan to understand what’s going on. If Jordan’s on that ship, we need to rescue her. I tap Wells’s arm as she turns toward me.
“What is Kellow doing there?” she whispers.
“I don’t know.” I keep my voice low as well. “They must have picked up the escape pod. We need to get her back.”
“I don’t think now is the time to worry about that.” She bites her lip and looks up at Kalve, clearly sorry for ever coming aboard. I don’t blame her. She’s been thrust into the middle of someone else’s problem. We all have.
The commscreen goes dead. I turn to Kalve, whose face is stone. “What’s going on?”
His jaw tightens. “They want to talk peace.”
“But you don’t believe them.”
He shakes his head. “No. This isn’t the first time they’ve spoken of ending our conflict. Every few decades there’s a revolt. They talk of peace, but it’s only a trap. I’m not falling for it this time. When they come we will be ready.”
And while they’re fighting it out, we’ll be stuck in the middle. Yakovich and I share a look. She’s thinking the same thing. We need to get the Persephone ready to depart as soon as possible.
“What’s going on? Who were those people, and why was Captain Kellow on board?” Wells asks.
“Captain Kellow?” Kalve asks.
“Our missing captain. She was on their bridge,” I say.
He shrugs. “It’s unlucky then. You will find it very hard to get her back.”
I stop him with a hand on his arm. “No. We need to get her back.”
With compassion in his eyes he says, “It can’t be done. No one leaves that ship unless they’re already dead. You’re better off helping us so that she dies quickly.” He walks off, leaving me stunned.
Since Jordan vanished in that escape pod, I’ve never thought she was dead. Some part of me always knew I’d see her again, that we’d get her back somehow. The way he casually drops her death on me, like it would be the better option, paralyzes me. I cannot leave it at that. We need to rescue her. And the only way to do that is to get Hartley well again.
Almost as an afterthought, I remember Captain Wells, who is still standing in the middle of the bridge looking shocked. I tug her arm, motioning for her to join Yakovich and me as we leave the bridge.
In the lift Wells is still enthralled by the ship. She peers up at the ceiling, which is transparent, allowing us to see where we’ve come from. “So how exactly did you find yourselves aligned with these people?” The way she says “these people” makes them sound despicable.
I don’t want to recount how, under my command, I managed to strand the Persephone. As Hartley pointed out earlier, we’re lucky we got rescued. I don’t find it lucky. The fact that we had to be rescued in the first place is the issue. Given the circumstances, Jordan wouldn’t have had the same outcome. I also have to remember that, technically, Wells isn’t my commanding officer. In one sense, as a captain, she outranks me, but she isn’t Union fleet, which means she has no real authority over me.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have the time to hear it.”
The lift stops on the medical deck. “We need to get Jordan off that ship before these people blow each other up and us along with them.” I’m already halfway through the medical center before I realize I’ve called her by her first name. My face flames red. I bite off my next sentence before I dig a bigger hole for myself.
I find Dr. Prashad in one of the labs perusing Hartley’s blood work.
“If we need to get Captain Kellow off that ship, why are we in the medical center?” Wells asks.
�
�Because the man who can help us do that is here. This is our doctor. Dr. Prashad, this is Captain Wells from the Posterus.” I realize as I introduce the two I have no idea what her first name is. You’d think I should. After all, during most of our travels we’d be attached to the Posterus. Only in extreme cases were we ever to disconnect from the main ship. Maybe her name is something else I’ve forgotten.
“This is the man who will help us rescue your captain? A doctor?” She examines Dr. Prashad with the same scrutiny she seems to give everything.
“You’ve found the captain?” he asks.
I nod, trying not to grin. Jordan’s alive, and even though she’s in the worst possible place, I can’t help but find pure joy in the fact that she’s living.
“And no,” he says to Wells. “I’m not the person to be rescuing anyone.”
“How is he?” I ask.
“As far as I can tell he should be fine. Nothing indicates illness in any way.” He motions for us to follow him through the other side of the lab into a dimmer area of the med center. Hartley is lying prone on a bed in the far corner. Empty beds line the walls and fill several examination stations in the middle of the room. We have the place to ourselves.
“He looks dead.” Yakovich takes a spot at the head of his bed and pokes him. “Feels dead too.” She frowns. “He’s not, right?” He does look dead. His skin is gray, and he’s so still he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
“I’ve examined everything, done every test I can think of, but I can’t find anything wrong with him. Besides the fact that he won’t wake up.”
Wells circles to the other side of the bed.
“What about a diagnostic cube?”
“I don’t see what that would tell us that a test wouldn’t. I don’t suspect any internal injuries, and he certainly doesn’t have a mind knot.”
“A mind knot?” Well’s eyes widen. “Why would you think he has a mind knot?”