False Horizons

by CJ Birch

  Tup waves an arm between us. “As fun as your petty squabbles are, we have to get off this ship before we’re discovered. I said the place was automated, but it’s not unpopulated. We need to go.”

  I turn to Tup and point to Sarka. “Tell him he can’t come.”

  “I can get us through the shield.”

  Tup nods and heads off toward our ship. “He’s coming.”

  Fuck.

  He stops in front of a silver ship with white stripes along each side. It’s not much bigger than one of the Persephone’s escape pods. Tup opens a rear hatch and fiddles around with the controls until the side door snaps and hisses open. If it looks tiny on the outside, it’s even more cramped on the inside. There are four seats, two up front and four in the rear—no room for cargo or anything else.

  Tup climbs into the ship with no problem. It’s obvious these were built for someone with his stature. We’ll be lucky if we can all fit in here. Before Sarka can enter, I grab his arm, stopping him. “Tell us how to get past the shield first.”

  “Let’s take our seats and order drinks first, huh?”

  I swear he tries to be difficult on purpose. “I don’t think you actually know how.”

  “If that’s the case, then we’re all going to die, so wouldn’t you rather I come? That way you can be sure I’ll die a painful death.”

  “Cut the shit.”

  “Get in, if you’re coming,” Tup calls. “We gotta go. Any minute now they’re going to discover we’re here, and that’s when things get a whole lot harder.”

  Sarka smirks at me as he pushes past. He squeezes into a seat in back and buckles in. He tilts his head to the side, unable to clear the ceiling of the ship. I buckle in next to Tup and turn around in my seat. “So how do we get out of the shield without dying?”

  He points to his wrist. “We cut out our trackers. That’s how they’re able to send a pulse through our system that kills us.”

  “You’re shitting me.” I look down at my wrist and wonder why I didn’t think of that.

  He smiles and shakes his head. I have no idea why he’s enjoying this.

  Tup finishes his preflight checks and says, “We’ll be clear of the flight deck in less than two minutes, and we’ll reach the shield barrier in under five. So if we’re doing this, let’s get it done.”

  I groan and pull out the knife Karm gave me. Sarka reaches for it. “Hell, no.” I pull it out of his reach. “There’s no way I’m giving you a knife. I’ll do everyone’s.”

  “Who’s going to cut yours out?” he asks.

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  “As much as I’m impressed with this bad-ass attitude of yours, it’s a whole different ball game when you actually have to cut into yourself.”

  “I’ll manage.” I turn to Tup. “Do you have a medical kit on board? We’ll need to disinfect the knife and wrap the wounds after.” He motions between my legs under the copilot seat. “Great. I’ll do you first.” I pull out the med kit, which isn’t exactly stocked. There’s two bandage wraps and a rubbery stick. I pull out my knife, which is bigger than I remember. A battle knife—long, serrated on one side, and sharp. I have no illusions that it might be sterile. In fact, if I were going to pick something to cut into everyone’s skin with, this would be dead last. “Hold out your arm.”

  Tup rolls up his sleeve and hands it over to me. I’m impressed with his cavalier nature, as if this is some inspection he has to pass before being able to leave. I gaze over at Sarka, who’s trying to look like he isn’t paying us any attention.

  “How do we know it’s in the same place for everyone? Especially since he doesn’t remember getting his.”

  Sarka shrugs. “If you don’t find it in that arm, then open up the other one.”

  “Great solution. We only have two bandages.” And then I remember our earlier conversation. “Hey, Tup, what arm do you use to unlock doors?”

  Tup places his bulky right hand in my palm. “This one.”

  I heft the knife and position it where I think they’ve placed his tracker. He watches intently as I slice into the inside of his arm.

  His blood comes out dark purple, thick and opaque, mingling with his hair. He doesn’t even flinch. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Nah. I had my pain receptors dulled. Cost me two years’ wages, but it was worth it. Kept hitting my head getting out of my bunk every morning. After I had the procedure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  Great. So I’m the only one who’s going to feel this. I dig into his wrist with both fingers until I find a crescent-shaped object. Then I take one of the bandages and wrap his wrist as tight as I can. “We don’t have anything to close the cut. We’ll have to wait until we get back to the Posterus.”

  Tup nods and readies the ship for takeoff. “Everyone strapped in?” He doesn’t wait for us to answer. The ship lifts off and blasts toward the flight deck exit. “You have five minutes until we reach the shield.”

  I wipe Tup’s blood on my pants, turn, and motion for Sarka to give me his right arm.

  He places it on the back of my seat. “So much for sterilization.”

  “Don’t move.” The lighting is dimmer in back. Compared to Tup’s wrist, Sarka’s is hairless, with faint scars along one side in even strips. I try not to think about how he got them. I take my best guess and cut in about halfway, the same area as Tup. For some reason this is worse. Maybe because we’re the same species. Maybe it’s because his blood looks like mine, or maybe it’s just one of those things you can’t explain. I’m the one who flinches when I reach in and locate the tracker. His is a much brighter purple than Tup’s. I hand it to him, rip the bandage in half, and wrap his wrist as best I can.

  I wipe the knife on my now-filthy pants and stare at my own arm. This is fucking crazy.

  “Two minutes left.” We race along the flight deck past all the other dormant ships.

  I grab the rubber stick from the med kit and place it between my teeth, then take a deep breath and brace myself.

  Sarka reaches for the knife just as I’m about to cut. “Don’t play the hero. Let me do it.”

  I yank the knife out of reach and turn to face front.

  “Jordan, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I take the rubber stick out of my mouth. “I don’t care. The last thing I’m going to do is trust you.” I wedge my leg against the console and place my arm on my thigh.

  “And you don’t think this is trust? Stabbing yourself with a knife? You don’t even know if removing it will save your life when we cross the shield.”

  I stop. “Are you screwing with me?”

  “No. I’m trying to prove a point.”

  “One minute left.” We clear the ship and enter space. The difference in light is stark. I feel the cold dead of space surround us.

  “Who told you we had to remove them?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m telling the truth. What do you have to lose? You’ve seen removing them has no side effects—”

  “That we know of. What if you both drop dead in another minute?”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Cut it out of your arm,” Sarka yells.

  Goddamn it. If he’s lying I don’t have time to find out. I jam the knife into my arm and cut a thin line. Christ.

  I take a moment to readjust to the pain. My breath comes out in pants, and then I feel two large fingers dig into my arm and root around. I lean forward, afraid I might vomit when I hear, “We’re clear.” I don’t feel much after that. My brain has shut down the part that hurts like hell.

  There’s a soft slap and I jerk awake. My arm is bandaged. There’s blood everywhere—my arm, my pants, the floor, the console. I turn in my seat. Sarka is staring at me. He holds up the crescent object between his thumb and index finger. “You’re welcome,” he says.

  I face the front. Now what? This was as far as my plan got. Hell, I didn’t even have a plan for getting past the shield. Everything about
this is a hope and a prayer. “How will we get onto the other ship?”

  “That’s up to Alison now,” he says. I ignore it. He’s goading me, and I have to stop letting him. “I know she got the message I sent her because the system sends an automated response back when it makes the connection.”

  I grit my teeth.

  Tup banks to the right and heads toward the other ship, his face pure bliss. I’ve never seen him this happy. “It’s better than I imagined. Most of our information is out of date.” He leans forward to get a good look. The ship is massive. It looks like they could fit the Belt’s entire population on board. I watch Tup as he studies the ship. Is this what we’ll become? A species that can’t even remember our home? Or, worse, our ships will become our home. That’s what I signed up for. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life on a ship. But it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I doubt the illya or the Varbaja chose to live like this. But what happens when it stops? When the war is over? Will they be able to go back to the lives their ancestors lived? Lives they have no connection to?

  When I signed on for the Posterus mission, I didn’t really grasp what it would be like to live the rest of your life on a ship. Granted, it’s like no other ship I’ve ever seen. It’s more like living on Alpha. I just knew I needed to get away. But what happens to the people who reach our final destination? Will they also have problems adjusting to a life that isn’t in constant motion?

  “What exactly did you tell Ash she had to do?” I ask.

  Sarka stretches his legs out in front of him, trying to get as comfortable as he can in this tiny ship. “To find a way to plant a bomb in their main computer to disable them.”

  Tup shakes his head. “That won’t work.”

  Sarka shrugs. “It’s the plan that tiny woman had me relay.”

  “Why won’t it work?” I ask.

  “Because a ship that size wouldn’t have one main computer, It would have many. They would need redundancy since it’s likely many systems go down on a regular basis. Veera is stupid if she thinks that will work. Even the Avokaado has two main computers: one for operations and the other for defenses.”

  We’re now equal distance between the Avokaado and the illya’s ship. So far nothing is following us, and Tup’s spirits are high. I take that as a good sign.

  “Alison’s a smart cookie. She’ll figure it out.”

  I glare back at Sarka. “We still need a way in.” I hate to ask, but we don’t have any other option. “Can you communicate with her from here?”

  “There’s no need. She’s expecting us.” He smirks, probably at my dumbfounded expression. “I had faith you’d find a way to get us off that ship. Love is a great motivator, isn’t it?” When he wiggles his eyebrows, I nearly explode with rage. “And like I said before, the rest is up to Alison.”

  “Stop saying her name. You have no right,” I shout. It’s that smug smile on his lips that does it. I lose whatever self-control I’ve been holding onto and sink the knife I’m still holding deep into his thigh. The silence that follows is excruciating.

  Sarka’s eyes go wide, not from pain, but from surprise. I know he didn’t expect that. Hell, I didn’t know I was going to do it until I did. My hand is still wrapped around the handle. The knife is buried in the meatiest part of his thigh muscle. I can’t yank it out or he’ll bleed all over the place. There’s a moment where I’m more pissed that I gave him a knife than the fact that he finally got me to lose my temper good and proper.

  It’s what I should have done in his cabin that first week. I should’ve just stabbed him then and been done with it. I’d have a lot less headache, and we wouldn’t be in this goddamned mess. I’d be on the Persephone with Ash heading back to the Posterus. And as I think this, I realize I’d most likely be dead, killed by those avians who surprised us in the pyramid.

  Christ. I could throttle him just for the confusion I’m feeling right now.

  He cups his hand over mine and looks at me in a way I haven’t seen since I was a child. “Steady wins the race,” he says in a low, calm voice.

  I nod and try to choke back tears. I wrench my hand free and swipe at my eyes. Fuck. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of him. I face forward in my seat.

  Tup looks over at me, but instead of fear or a sudden wariness he shows the same excitement from before. “We’re approaching the Kudo. What do you want me to do? Once we get too close, their proximity sensors will sound, and they’ll know we’re coming.” As he says that it hits me. Ash knows we’re coming. She’d make it so we could get in somehow.

  “If you were going to sabotage a ship, one you weren’t familiar with, and get us access, how would you do it?” Ash has Hartley. And Hartley is a fucking genius. He’d find a way to get us in. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m working with the same caliber of brain power here.

  “I’d sabotage the toilets,” Sarka says.

  I turn back. He’s got his hand on the knife and has ripped off part of the bandage around his wrist and secured the knife to his leg. The sight adds a layer of guilt to all the other emotions battling for prominence. “What?”

  “It’s the only essential system that won’t have a lot of security around it. And as an added bonus, many ships will have a fail-safe that vents all gray water in an emergency.” Before I can wonder if Hartley would think of that, Sarka continues. “Plus, it’ll be on their minds. I placed a bomb there on the Persephone.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ash

  “What does that mean? Tribute?” Yakovich says.

  Vasa licks his lips and stares up at us. He looks terrified, and he should be. Yakovich’s stance is intimidating, arms crossed, chin raised, pissed-off expression.

  “I don’t know much, only what they told me. I was approached a few months after they announced the assignments for the Posterus. They said they had a special mission, but that I had to agree before I heard what it was.” He rubs his palms on his legs. “After I heard the mission, it made sense. There’s no going back once you know. I wanted to refuse after I heard, but they promised me my parents would be moved to Alpha, where they wouldn’t have to work for the rest of their lives.

  “The illya have been abducting humans for centuries and using us to help them procreate. For hundreds of years humans had no idea. Because there were so many people, it didn’t make any difference that a few went missing every few months. But by the twentieth century, when we started to make headway into space, things changed. They captured one of our ships. As compensation, an agreement was reached. We would supply the illya with humans in exchange for technology.”

  “What kind of technology?” I ask.

  Vasa shrugs. “They didn’t say, but I think it’s pretty obvious. The technology boom of the twentieth-first century? Probably wasn’t human ingenuity.” He lets that thought sink in. And it does. We suddenly had technology we weren’t ready for, and look where it got us. He nods when he sees my face. “Exactly. And when we had to migrate to the Belt, things got worse. The illya still wanted humans, but it was harder to hide those disappearances with so few of us left. So a deal was struck. We would give them 45,000 humans to begin their own colony on a planet in their system, and they would leave the rest of the Belters alone.”

  Yakovich looks like she’s going to puke. “And what was your role in all this?”

  Vasa hesitates before his face crumples. “It was my job to discover the planet.” Great big sobs overtake his whole body. He sags in on himself.

  Yakovich and I exchange a look. I’m not sure if she’s thinking exactly what I am, but it’s clear we agree that we have to get as far away from the illya as possible. We need to warn the Posterus. If I were Vasa, I’d be drowning in guilt. If what he says is true, he was willing to sacrifice 45,000 of his own people so his parents wouldn’t have to work for the next ten years. Except that still doesn’t explain why he’s been trying to kill me for the past month.

  “And why was I a threat to all this?”
/>
  Vasa continues to sob.

  Yakovich kicks the bed again. “Why were you trying to kill Ash? Did you think what’s one more, when I’m already guilty of mass murder?”

  I place a hand on Yakovich’s arm. We don’t want to antagonize him. In this case it’ll be better to play nice rather than be aggressive. I kneel in front of him and place a hand on his knee. “Vasa, I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to, but for my peace of mind, I need to know.”

  Vasa raises watery eyes. A tear escapes and runs the length of his cheek, dropping from his chin onto his leg. “The Commons have another operative aboard the Posterus—”

  “Gladwell.”

  He nods. “He said I should make it look like an accident.”

  “But why?” asks Yakovich.

  “He was worried you’d been compromised by the Burrs because you’d been on the station when they attacked.”

  “Why didn’t they just pull me from the mission?”

  “I heard Colonel Shreves tried, but they had no evidence you’d been compromised. All your medical tests checked out. And they weren’t aware that the Burrs had been on the station for two weeks. They still think it was only a few hours. But Gladwell didn’t want to take any chances.” New tears spill over. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ash.”

  I pull Yakovich over to the window so Vasa won’t hear us. “Now what?” she asks.

  I’m asking myself the same thing. “The best thing to do is put him in the brig until we come up with a better option.”

  “Lieutenant,” Vasa calls. “You can’t take us back to the Milky Way. The illya will keep coming for us. They’ll keep abducting people until there aren’t any left.”

  “You told him we were going home?” Yakovich asks.

  “I had to tell him something to get him to talk.”

  “So if we were chosen for this mission as sacrifices, what does that say about their selection process?”

  I snort. “Guess we’re the rejects.”