Zenith Dream

by F. T. Lukens

Ren bit his lip. It was reckless, but it was the only lead they had. “I know a girl who knows things.”

  2

  The next morning, after breakfast, Ren stretched on the couch in the common room. Drowsy, and full of food, he listened to the familiar conversations around him. The crew’s voices blended into a low, comforting buzz, and Ren smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on the cushions.

  He woke a few hours later. Someone had repositioned him, which he appreciated since he didn’t wake with a crick in his neck. The room was empty, the lights powered low, but Ren felt everyone on the ship. Fluttering his eyelids, Ren eased into the systems; the action was as simple as breathing.

  Through the echo in the comms, Ren heard Ollie’s heavy steps around the cargo bay. Propped in her captain’s chair on the bridge, Rowan scrolled through newsfeeds. Lucas, hunched over his personal data screen in his and Penelope’s quarters, reviewed routes and star charts. His fingers tapped restlessly, mapping paths to drifts and planets. Flipping through pages, Penelope read a novel, a fairy tale about a mermaid.

  This was Ren’s family—and he was relieved they were okay—but they all missed an important member. Asher’s absence echoed everywhere.

  Ren made his way to Asher’s quarters, the ones that had been adjacent to his own. They were unlocked, though that wouldn’t have stopped Ren.

  He’d been in Asher’s room, but that seemed like an age ago. It was much as he remembered—not an object out of place. Checking the drawers and closet, Ren found only a black drifter jacket with red accents. Ren slipped it on. He moved to the bathroom and picked through Asher’s things with no real purpose in mind other than to be close to him through the objects and space he’d left behind.

  Catching his reflection in the mirror, Ren eyed himself. Gone was the boy from Erden who had been captured by a despot. Gone was the shadow who’d walked around the ship pale and hollow-eyed, uncertain of his humanity, at war within himself. Staring at him was a man with a lean face, a slightly stubbled jaw, and a power that seeped into his bones, glowed from his eyes, nestled in the space beneath his ribs, had become a part of him. He wasn’t afraid any longer, of himself or of others. His only fear was losing the family he’d built, and he was determined to fix the mistakes he’d made that had caused that family to be incomplete.

  Beyond that was uncertainty: if he’d find his brother, if he could live a life on a drift or a planet without being chased, if normal was ever in the stars for him.

  Ren’s dark hair brushed his shoulders and fell into his eyes. It was a remnant of the time from his capture. He couldn’t cut it at the citadel. Too caught up in his technopathic power, he hadn’t cared about it when he lived on the ship, and he couldn’t cut it while he was drifting between death and circuits. Spying a pair of scissors on the sink, Ren grabbed them and pulled a strand taut. He cut it, and the hair fell into the sink and curled onto the metal surface. The action was strangely freeing. With trembling hands, Ren continued to cut and cut and cut, and the hair in the sink mounted into a pile.

  “Do you want help?”

  Ren jumped and turned to find Rowan standing in the doorway. She leaned on the wall, her expression fond. She looked at the scissors Ren unintentionally but instinctively pointed at her and pursed her lips.

  “I heard someone in here and figured it was you.” She shrugged. “I knew it wasn’t him, and the others wouldn’t be interested in the things he left behind.” She tugged at the collar of the jacket, and Ren’s cheeks burned with a blush.

  Cautiously, Rowan took the scissors.

  “Here, it’s all uneven. Actually, I think Asher has a pair of clippers somewhere.”

  Rowan slid Asher’s chair from his desk into the small bathroom space and gestured for Ren to sit. He did and closed his eyes as Rowan ran her fingernails over his scalp. The snick-snick of the scissors was rhythmic and soothing.

  She’d been suspicious of him once, wary and afraid of the unpre­dictability he brought aboard her ship. She’d softened, though, when she saw him for what he was—a scared duster far from home, thrust into an adventure he hadn’t asked for. Despite her acceptance, he’d never imagined she’d be doing something like this for him.

  “Thank you,” he said, finally.

  “I used to do this for Ash when he was younger, before the Corps. He had beautiful blond hair as a baby, and, when it grew long, my friends and I would braid it. He didn’t care until he hit that pre-pubescent stage when everyone was stupid except for him.”

  Ren half-smiled. “Was he a brat?”

  Rowan made an affirmative noise in her throat. “The worst. He was a moody little cog. But then he hit fifteen, shot up in height, grew muscles, and became handsome. And he knew it too. Then he was utterly unbearable.”

  With the heel of his hand, Ren wiped away the tears gathered in his lashes. “I bet he could’ve had anyone he wanted.”

  Rowan swung open the mirror and pulled out the hair clippers. She flipped the switch, and it sputtered before shutting off. Ren lightly touched the casing, allowed his power to flood into the wires, and it hummed to life. Rowan didn’t bat an eye and ran the clippers along the shape of Ren’s ear and up the side of his head.

  “He could’ve, but he enlisted and disappeared. I hadn’t seen him in so long when you brought him back to me, bedraggled, and awful-smelling, on that woman’s ship at Nineveh. I would’ve paid any amount of credits for him right then.”

  “I’d pay any amount to have him here right now.”

  “I know.” She gently pushed Ren’s head forward and used the clippers on his neck. “You’re young and stupid and inexperienced and you care too deeply. And you’re exactly the person my brother needs.”

  He didn’t know if he was the person Asher needed. He hoped he was the person Asher still wanted. But what really mattered was just having Asher back and the family whole.

  “We’ll get him back. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep. But,” she said before Ren could respond, “I’m glad you’re determined.” She turned off the clippers. “There. All done. I think it suits you.”

  Ren stood and peered in the mirror. She’d done a good job: the sides and back short, but the top still slightly long and wild.

  “Thank you.”

  She patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now, do you honestly think this girl will be able to help us?”

  Ren ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I think it’s a good place to start.”

  “Well, then, let’s go find her.”

  _

  Finding Darby wasn’t difficult. Ren used his connection with the ship to link to the video feeds of the drift. Phoebus was a tiny drift, constructed of a few levels and the docks. After a couple of minutes of flicking through the feeds, Ren found Darby outside a storefront. He almost missed her, since her outfit blended in with the moving populace and the walls of the drift, but a strand of her nebula hair peeking out beneath her slouch hat caught his eye.

  Darby moved with a grace that Ren hadn’t seen before. Her movements were quick and fluid. Ren almost missed it when Darby pickpocketed a woman leaning over a display of bracelets. The glint of a credit chip was the only reason he caught the movement; that and the slight sway of the woman’s purse. The sleight of hand was practiced and easy. Then, for good measure, Darby took a few bracelets before ambling away.

  She went to the elevator, and Ren lost track of her until she emerged on the floor below.

  “Third floor,” Ren said into the comm to Ollie, as Darby meandered to a bench positioned to look out at the stars. “Near the observation window. The one with the hat and the rainbow socks.”

  “That little thing?” Ollie said a few minutes later. “Are you sure? She doesn’t look like much.”

  “Yes, that’s her. Be careful.”

  Ollie sighed over the
line. “Okay, I’m on it.”

  Ren eased from the drift and contracted to the ship. He opened his eyes and found Penelope staring at him.

  “Hi,” he said with a wave. “Everything okay?”

  Brow furrowed, Penelope stared at him. “It seems easier than before.” She made a gesture at her eyes. “You’re not as… unpredictable.”

  “I have better control.” He pressed his hand to the bulkhead with fingers spread, leaving smudges on the shiny surface. “It was harder when I didn’t know what I was doing. And then Millicent manipulated me. And then… well after spending so many weeks in the ship…” he trailed off and shrugged. “It’s instinctive now.”

  “Do you think you’ll need to worry about being overwhelmed again? ‘Go all glowy’ as they say. Should I carry a list of impossible questions to ask you, just in case? To force you back to being human?”

  Ren frowned. “I think I’ll always have to worry about losing myself, unfortunately. It’s part of being what I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t balance it, that I can’t be both human and star host. I don’t have to be one or the other.” Ren flexed his fingers. “I can choose to be both.”

  That was something Millicent hadn’t understood when she’d tried to force him to choose. She could only see a constant struggle between one or the other, so she’d abandoned a part of herself. Ren couldn’t do that.

  “That’s good.” Penelope gave him a warm smile. “Well, let’s get you ready to broker your first deal. It’s exciting, I think. You’re becoming a true drifter.”

  “I wonder what Jakob would say to that.”

  Penelope laughed. “He’d say something along the lines of, what have you weeds done to my best friend?”

  Ren chuckled at her impression.

  Penelope helped him to his feet, then smoothed the lapels of Asher’s jacket. If she noticed he’d pilfered it from Asher’s closet, she didn’t say anything. Ren looped his arm around her shoulders and together they made their way to the cargo bay.

  _

  Ren reclined on the stairs in the cargo bay with his elbows propped behind him and his booted feet on a lower step. He was still becoming used to his body again, and this pose allowed him to appear relaxed but not weak. It killed his elbows and shoulders, though, strained his joints, and put pressure on tender places.

  As soon as Ollie neared the dock, Ren perked up, feeling him cross the barrier Ren had erected around the ship. He alerted Rowan and Lucas to their impending visitor. They all turned toward the airlock door and waited.

  They didn’t wait long.

  Darby’s string of expletives was both impressive and creative. While she wasn’t physically fighting Ollie, she was making the job of escorting her difficult by playing dead weight, dragging her feet, and generally being a nuisance.

  Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “We’re kidnapping now?” he asked, as Ollie hauled an uncooperative Darby through the cargo airlock with his thick brown arms wrapped around her waist. “I thought we were asking politely?”

  “I did ask politely,” Ollie said. “She refused rudely.”

  Once inside the cargo bay, and with Ollie distracted, Darby kicked out, catching him in the knee with her thick heel. He dropped her with a grunt, and she took off for the door. From his spot on the stairs, Ren thrust out his hand, pushed his star outward, and the door swung closed before she could reach it. He locked it for good measure.

  She slid to a halt and scowled. “I hate that trick.”

  Lucas shook his head and waved his hand over his shoulder as he left the cargo bay. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t want to be an accessory.” He stepped past Ren on the stairs and rubbed his head. “Nice jacket.”

  Ren swatted his hand away.

  “You’re already an accessory,” Darby yelled. “You all are. I’ll turn every last one of you in to the Corps.”

  Ollie, an imposing figure with his height and bulk, stood near the airlock, and Rowan scowled from the other side of the stairs. A pulse gun was strapped to her outer thigh. She sighed, put upon, and brushed her golden braid from her shoulder and pulled on the hem of her black shirt. “Seriously? You are in no position to threaten us with the Corps. Especially since you’re carrying stolen merchandise on your person right now.”

  Darby let a slow grin spread over her face. Her hair, a mixture of black and purple, was cut short at her chin. She wore dark clothes and next to Ollie she appeared tiny. Ren couldn’t judge her age, but he guessed it wasn’t much different from his own. She snapped her fingers. “You must be Captain Rowan Morgan. Your reputation proceeds you.”

  “Unfortunately, so does yours, Darby.”

  Darby brushed off the sleeves of her jacket and spread her arms wide. “I have no reputation. I’m totally ‘what you see is what you get.’”

  “And I’ve seen vid of you pickpocketing, shoplifting, and trespassing.”

  “Oh, busted,” Darby said with a wink. “So, I know you. You know me. But I don’t know…” She pointed at Ren and Ollie. “…these two lovely boys.”

  Ollie didn’t say anything.

  “We’ve met,” Ren said.

  “I would’ve remembered if we’d met.” Darby put her hands on her hips and batted her eyelashes. “I don’t forget a pretty face.”

  Ren snorted. “Yesterday. Remember? Don’t kick my things.”

  Realization dawned. Her mouth dropped open, and she wagged her finger in his direction. “You don’t look like a ship,” she said, her gaze running from Ren’s toes to his head. “You look like another fine mark though.”

  “Enough of this.” Rowan dropped her crossed arms and stalked across the short distance between her and Darby. Her hand rested on her holstered weapon. “You violated the sanctity of my ship. You’re lucky we don’t turn you over to the drift authorities.”

  Darby placed a hand over her heart and gasped. “Oh no, an empty threat. Whatever shall I do?”

  Ollie coughed into his fist. Rowan’s glare intensified. Ren inwardly groaned; a clash of personalities wasn’t what he needed. This wouldn’t get them anywhere, and Darby was the only lead they had to Asher’s whereabouts.

  “If you had wanted to turn me in, you would’ve when you had the vids on me. So, what’s the deal? Or the con?”

  Ren gritted his teeth. Darby’s attitude was wearing thin. “You’re right. We’re not turning you over to the authorities, but don’t think for a second you’re not in any danger here, or don’t you remember when I told you to leave.” Ren leveled Darby with a look and engaged the star in his chest. The lights in the cargo hold flickered. His eyes went blue. He lifted his hand, and sparks danced between his fingers.

  Darby paled and stepped away, her defensive posture melting into fear. “What are you? How are you doing that?”

  Ren closed his fingers and pulled himself from the systems. He ignored her question. “We need you to do us a favor.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “A favor?” False bravado back in place, she tilted her chin. “Favors can be expensive. And I’m not cheap.”

  Rowan narrowed her eyes. “How much?”

  “Depends on the favor.” Darby flashed a cheeky grin. “I’m guessing the great Captain Morgan doesn’t want her to get her hands dirty. Don’t want to sully your name with questionable activity?”

  “From what you told Ren, my name is already sullied.”

  Darby shrugged. “Not so much. Just my own theories, that I was obviously wrong about.” She cast a glance at Ren. “Or not so wrong. Maybe, they weren’t after an object. Maybe, they chased you because of a person. Tell me, Ren. Have you ever been to Crei?”

  That was too close for comfort, and Ren waved his hand, brushing off her theories like cobwebs. “Look, we need information. You’re good at information. But this isn’t going to be as easy as an override on a ship. We have a very specific target.”
/>   “What? Are we talking a little information, or are you talking outright theft? Because I can do both. And what’s the target? No one on this drift is too difficult. Cogs, this ship was the toughest I’ve sneaked on in months.”

  Ren shifted on the stairs. His back was too tense, and the blunt metal edges of the steps dug into his legs. He would have bruises. But he shrugged, pretending nonchalance while his pulse thrummed. “The Corps,” he said, as if had described the basic function of air recyclers.

  Darby laughed. She tossed her head back and clutched her sides and laughed. “That’s hilarious.” She slid her fingers beneath her eyes to wipe away non-existent tears. “Oh, my stars, that was funny. I haven’t heard a good joke in a while.”

  Rowan frowned. “We’re wasting time. She can’t help us.”

  “Wait?” She looked at the three of them and scrunched her nose. “You’re serious? You want me to steal information from the Corps? No way, the only way you can get information out of those guys is to hack their database. And sorry, unless you are amazing and can get into their private and secure systems, you’re DOL.”

  “DOL?” Ren asked.

  “Dirt out of luck.” Darby held up a hand and wiggled her fingers that poked out of her fingerless gloves. “One, you’re not going to be able to get close enough, and, even if you do, the encryption is beyond what anyone on this drift can break. Second, the last guy who tried was thrown onto some dust ball and never heard from again. No amount of credits or favors or whatever is worth that.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.

  “Wait!” Ren pushed his body to standing, but hunched over. His legs trembled, and he crumpled forward. Ollie caught him before he tumbled off the stairs. Grasping Ren’s arm, Ollie steadied him. “Wait. You weren’t wrong. There is something on this ship that the Corps chased and thought they destroyed but didn’t.”

  Darby stopped in her tracks. “I was right,” Darby said, looking over her shoulder. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

  “Not sick. Recovering from almost being destroyed.”