by Rebecca Rode
The female official glowered at her. “This machine is incredibly expensive and difficult to replace. Tell me what you did and why.”
It would definitely need to be replaced. It looked like a partially melted candle. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I—I don’t know what happened.”
The officials exchanged a look.
“It’s obvious,” the first man said. “She got inside the wiring somehow.”
Another official spoke up. “Impossible. The wiring panel is on the outside, near the back.”
“Well, gypsies are good with their hands. I wouldn’t put it past her to damage the machine on purpose. She’s been nothing but trouble since she arrived—”
“Take her to the medical bay,” the woman interrupted. “Have them treat her burns. Then put her on probation. We’ll see what Commander Kane says about this.”
16
Silence was a sound in and of itself, Ember decided. To a race who liked to congregate, it had to be specifically sought. She hadn’t had much of it growing up, not with her neighbors sleeping just feet from her head and chickens clucking throughout the house. She’d grown up surrounded by the sounds of her father’s snoring and her mother’s whispers and quiet breakfast preparation as she slept.
That was what bothered her most about this place. The quiet. It was unnatural.
As unnatural as a Roma girl melting a machine.
She’d returned from the medical bay about an hour ago. The salve on her burned skin was already nearly gone, having taken most of the pain with it. Thankfully the burns were the worst on her exposed skin and she’d been wearing her jacket and trousers, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. No, it wasn’t the burns that bothered her.
It was the way everyone had looked at her afterward.
The officials must have explained that the machine was down, because the flickers were sent back to their quarters to await further instructions. A few still lingered in the corridor outside her room. Their looks of disgust and wariness told her they’d figured out that Ember was the one who’d broken the machine. Stefan was nowhere to be seen.
She hadn’t done it on purpose. Had she? What would this mean for her escape plan?
A soft knock sounded at her door. “Enter,” Ember called out.
Mar walked in, arms folded across her chest. “We need to talk.”
Great. Ember wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was because you were the last one in there. You broke phase two with your mind.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done? That machine is how they place flickers, Ember. It analyzes our strengths and puts us in the right program. You just brought testing week to a screeching halt while they order a new machine from High Commander Kane’s facility on Terantine. We’ll be stuck here a few days longer, maybe even another week.”
A week. She could find a cargo ship and pilot in that time, especially if they set the flickers free in the city again.
Mar got right in her face. “You don’t look sorry at all.”
“Mar,” Ember began. “I don’t know what happened. I certainly wasn’t trying to slow you down—”
“No, listen to me. There’s just one thing I want to know.” Mar plopped herself into the chair opposite Ember, then a huge grin spread across her face. “How did you do it?”
“What?”
“No, really. It was brilliant. Did you start a fire in there or something? Because, honestly, I think it was the cleverest trick ever. I can’t believe you pulled it off.”
Now Ember was really confused. “You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be upset? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
She certainly hadn’t acted like it so far, but Ember wasn’t about to disagree. “So you don’t like being a flicker.”
“Oh, I don’t mind that part. It’s just the whole being-used-by-the-Empire thing I don’t want. Sure it would be nice to be the first Olvenack to pass. I’m just not so sure about what comes after training.” Mar examined her nails. “Nobody ever talks about that.”
Ember sat straight up now, not bothering to hide her excitement. “So you want to escape too.”
“Escape?” She snorted. “Nobody escapes an Empire station. That would be suicide.”
Ember sat back. “Oh.”
“The other flickers are so mad at you right now,” Mar said with a chuckle. “Be sure to watch your back next time you go to the cafeteria. Eris went bright purple when she heard what you did. You’d think you melted her family instead of a stupid machine.”
“Is Stefan angry?” Ember asked.
Mar’s smile froze, then she turned on Ember, her expression guarded. “Stefan? Why do you ask?”
“Forget it.”
Mar’s eyes were boring into her now. “You think he’s yours now because he bought you a drink on the rec deck, huh?”
Resentment sprang up inside Ember, and she wanted to tell Mar about the moments they’d shared—about Empyrean and the music and his grandmother’s vision. But it didn’t matter. Mar was right—he wasn’t hers. She needed to get him off her mind before she accidentally fulfilled something she shouldn’t.
“I’ve loved Stefan for years,” Mar said, staring at the ground. “I know. I shouldn’t have fallen for the guy every other girl wanted, and I only saw him occasionally when I trained at the station. But last year we finally became friends. He finally saw me.” She glared at Ember. “And then you came. Now he looks right through me like I’m not even there. And you—he looks like he’s never seen a woman before when he looks at you.”
Now Ember didn’t know what to say. A mixture of giddiness and dread fought for dominance within her. “I think you’re seeing things.”
“Then you’re not paying attention.” Mar stood and headed for the door. “Well, if you’re going to escape, I guess you have a few extra days to do it now. I’ll see you at dinner. Or not.”
Ember stared out the window, her legs crossed on her bed as Mar exited. Then the room was quiet once again. The familiar whoosh of the closing door didn’t sound, however.
“Close door,” Ember muttered.
“I don’t think so,” a deep voice said.
Ember turned to find Talon standing in the doorway with several guards. She motioned for them to enter, and they filled the room in seconds, surrounding Ember where she sat on her bed, weapons raised.
Alarmed, Ember raised her arms in surrender. Had Kane decided to incarcerate her after all?
Talon followed the guards in, then stepped aside to reveal someone behind her.
Ember nearly collapsed in shock. “Ambrose?”
The smuggler stood there, for once looking a bit uncertain. “What is it you need again?”
“Confirmation,” Talon told him. “Is this her?”
“Yep, that’s her.”
Ember couldn’t breathe. A huge weight gripped her chest as the reality of it all crashed into her mind.
Ambrose had betrayed her. He wasn’t on his way to Earth at all.
Dai’s medicine would never be delivered.
“Why?” Ember burst out. “How could you?”
Ambrose smirked. “You never saw it, did you, gypsy girl?”
Ember didn’t play his game. She just glared at him, waiting.
“I’m a seeker, all right?” He shrugged. “When tourists returned from your market raving about the girl who told the future, I decided to check it out and pose as a smuggler—waited until I was certain before sending the tip to High Commander Kane.”
He’d turned her in. Twice. This man was the reason Ember was here, hundreds of light years away from Dai and her home. She had no medicine to send home now and no money to buy more. Even if she managed to escape, no cargo pilot would smuggle her out for free.
Her hands curled into fists, and before she knew what had happened, she had launched herself at
the man.
“Whoa there,” Talon said, her long fingers grabbing Ember’s collar and yanking her back before she could make contact. Ember fought to free herself from the woman’s iron grip, but it was no use. “You may leave now, seeker.”
The traitor tipped an imaginary hat and shot Ember an amused smile as he left. How much had he been paid to turn her in? A few credits? Hundreds? He’d gotten more than two hundred from her on top of that, and he’d probably resold Dai’s medicine by now.
“Illegal shipping transaction,” Talon said. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be arresting you for, but effective nonetheless. Say good-bye to your luxury quarters.” Within seconds, Talon had Ember’s arms locked together in front of her again. Her burned skin rubbed painfully against the metal clasps. Talon shoved her toward the door.
Ember couldn’t sleep. They’d put her in a solitary cell, but she wasn’t really alone. The tiny, cramped room was lined with glass to prevent privacy. The toilet and sink were a hard, unforgiving metal, and the bed was a cold steel covered with a thin mattress that may as well have not been there at all. They hadn’t even given her a pillow.
But the cold metal was the perfect metaphor for the past three days on this station—hard, impersonal, and unbending. Devoid of any warmth whatsoever.
The true reason she couldn’t sleep, though, was that her mind kept running through the events of the day.
She slumped down onto her bed again, tired of thinking. She didn’t belong here. Her people at home didn’t like her much, but at least they didn’t hate her. There was just a wariness there, a lack of understanding. They’d believed what Babik and his father said about her. He had called Ember a killer, told them she was the reason his two friends were dead.
He was right.
From the perspective of her people, Babik’s unrelenting determination to marry her wasn’t all that unusual. Several other girls had been kidnapped and forced to marry their kidnappers, and none of them had killed anybody. In fact, most of the other Roma would have been relieved to have Ember claimed at last, no matter how it was done.
Except Babik’s plan had gone horribly wrong. Ember hadn’t meant to reach out to the intruders’ inner light as she’d struggled against them. She definitely hadn’t tried to lash out at them. She’d simply pulled and the light had followed. Babik’s friends had fallen to the floor immediately, never to move again.
The details were fuzzy. Two bodies on the floor. Babik’s terrified face staring at her as if she were a monster. Her screams. Babik running, then coming back to try one final time . . . or so she’d thought.
If Ember had only listened with her ears, she would have heard her mother’s soft voice and realized it wasn’t Babik returning. But she hadn’t. Now in full-blown fight-or-flight mode, her body was too full of adrenaline to register identities. All she knew was that she had to stop the light from coming any closer.
And she had.
She could still see it nearly three years later—her mother’s body on the floor, leg askew beneath the divider cloth. Her mother’s expression of shock frozen forever in her mind. Her father’s cry when he awoke and saw Ember hunched over his wife’s twisted form.
How he’d looked at her . . . and then refused to meet her gaze for weeks afterward.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my fault.”
She fell asleep reliving the memory over and over again in utter and complete silence.
Hours later, a soft click penetrated her dreams.
Ember’s eyes slid open and scanned her cell. She was alone. She listened for a moment, then allowed herself to drift away again.
Hands closed around her throat.
17
She tried to cry out, but only a tiny squeak escaped. She grabbed her attacker’s hairy arm and tried rolling away, but he only tightened his grip. She kicked and thrashed and pulled on his arms, but the man simply grunted and held her tight.
Tiny white lights danced in front of Ember’s vision. The beginning of the end. She gathered her strength and bucked her hips upward, twisting toward the wall.
It pulled the man off his feet, and he fell onto the bed on top of her. His hands loosened and he caught himself on one extended elbow. That precious quarter of a second was all she needed. She brought up her knee up and clocked the man’s head. He gasped and released her throat.
Babik. He’s come for me again.
She thrashed, the blanket tangling around her legs, and finally found the oxygen to scream. Just as her shriek escaped, a powerful blow struck her cheek. The lights danced in her vision again, this time lined with tiny red stars.
The hands found her neck again and squeezed.
Her heart slammed into her rib cage, threatening to fight its way free. She felt her lungs strain for air, her brain slipping into a darkness far greater than that of her cell. He wasn’t here to claim her.
He was trying to kill her.
Ember flailed and thrashed with one last attempt at freedom, but her arms were too weak to make an impact. Her attacker seemed to sense it and tightened his grip even more. She had seconds left—if that.
She’d promised never to do it again. But now she was about to die.
Reaching out with her mind, she sensed a faint glow within her attacker and plunged her hand inside, ignoring the memories that pulsed around her.
Then she took hold of the light and yanked with everything she was worth.
The man’s hands went limp, and he collapsed on top of her, his head dropping against her shoulder, his weight crushing her.
With a mighty heave, Ember shoved him off. He slid down and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The room spun around her and small starlike lights popped through her vision when she sat up. So quiet. If not for the excruciating pain in her throat and the dark mound on the floor, she could almost believe she’d had an intense, terrible nightmare.
The trembling began at her feet and worked its way upward. Then her entire being was shivering, and she fell to her knees beside the bed, gasping for precious air through her damaged windpipe. She could still feel his hands on her throat. When some tiny shreds of her courage returned, she reached down to poke his shoulder.
Still as stone.
She reached out and felt for his light, trying to form a connection again, but there was nothing. Nothing. She had done it again.
Voices whispered softly in the hallway, and several figures appeared in the dim hallway light. Ember scrambled to the other corner of her cell, as far away from the body as she could get. As they approached, the cell light clicked on overhead and flooded her senses with painful brightness.
The door clicked open—the same sound she’d heard when the attacker came in—and two guards entered, their stunners aimed at Ember as Commander Kane stepped through with a grim smile. The guards examined the body on the floor with round eyes.
“I must say,” Kane began. “I didn’t think you’d surprise me. Well done.”
Still breathing hard, Ember registered his words in a haze of confusion. She glared at the commander and at the body on the floor. The assassin’s eyes were still wide open. He didn’t look very intimidating at the moment—clean-shaven, younger than she’d expected. Early thirties, perhaps.
A guard knelt beside the body and felt for a pulse, then he turned to Kane. “Dead, sir.”
Kane sent the body a pitying look. “Well, Frank. I suppose your bragging has come to an abrupt end.”
“You sent him,” Ember managed.
“You’ve officially passed the third phase, gypsy girl. You’ll now move on to combat training on the Lennai’i.”
His words finally slammed into her consciousness. “That was phase three? An assassin?”
“All the flickers had the same test.” He watched her unblinkingly. “We initiated the next phase early, but I didn’t anticipate that your test results would be so interesting. I’m still trying to make sense of it. You didn’t even touch the man.”
All the flickers had been attacked tonight. Mar. Stefan. Were they all right?
Kane had watched the whole thing on the security feed. If she hadn’t fought back, Kane would have witnessed her death on screen.
“There’s only one explanation, you know,” Kane said thoughtfully, and Ember realized he was talking to himself. Kane turned to the guards. “All of you, out. Leave the body.”
They hesitated a brief second before obeying, obviously concerned about leaving the commander locked in a cell with a killer. But they must have known better than to argue because they finally retreated, locking the door behind them and disappearing down the hallway.
The cell was quiet now. Ember couldn’t take her eyes off the body at her feet. The guards could have at least taken it with them. The man looked much less threatening now. He wore a black jumpsuit, and his hair was neatly combed. Had he felt it necessary to style his hair before murdering her? Had it occurred to him that it might be the last time he did?
Kane ignored the assassin’s still form and began to pace the room. “It was obvious from that first day that you were a flicker. It never occurred to me that you could be something else as well. Something I haven’t seen in almost a quarter century. A flare.”
She finally lifted her gaze. “A flare?”
“There’s only been one other, and he’s long since retired. I should have seen it. Of course the machine wouldn’t work on you. It wasn’t made to handle the intensity of your gift.”
She shook her head slowly, not understanding.
“A flare has the power to not only read the inner light but actually grab hold of it, manipulate it. Even extinguish it, if they wish.”
Extinguish. A terrible word for such an awful thing, and yet he’d described it perfectly. That was exactly what she’d done—ripped the soul out of another human being.
She had ended someone’s life with a single thought.
Stars. I don’t want this. Why did you give it to me?
He stopped pacing and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Flares don’t come out of nowhere, which means you must have an intriguing ancestry. I’ll have to send a squad to investigate that gypsy village of yours. Flickers are useful, but they don’t win battles. Flares, however, can win entire wars alone.”