Flicker: Ember in Space Book One

by Rebecca Rode

  The same commander who had controlled her father for so long.

  Kane lifted a stunner to Ember’s head. His face was purple. “Take him now, or you and your filthy people die this instant.”

  She drew herself up to face him. “Then kill me. But I won’t do this.”

  Ember expected him to kill her, almost hoped he would. But instead he slammed his fist onto the trigger in his other hand. The pain exploded into her consciousness, a bonfire burning her from the inside. It was ten times worse than before. A hundred times worse. Someone was screaming. She reached for the blackness but couldn’t find it. There was only the pain.

  “Kill that man and you’ll have your relief.” The voice seemed strangely disconnected.

  She reached for the husband’s light and found it again, still hot and angry. This time she let her hand hover. Talon’s warning circled through her mind on repeat. The man would die anyway. She could save her people. So much pain.

  Instead of pulling on the light, she slammed her fist into it.

  The pain stopped.

  She slid her eyes open in time to see the man collapse onto the control panel and go still.

  Ember lay on the ground, shaking violently. No. That wasn’t supposed to kill him.

  “I’m pleased.” The emperor’s voice was still tinged with pain, but his pleasure seemed genuine. Ember wondered if Kane had muted the battle that had just taken place inside his office. “This is a welcome development. And you say the gypsy girl was homage from Earth?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “It would be nice to have more than one flare at our disposal. You’ve investigated the family line?”

  “Of course. None of her family have the gene.”

  “Pity,” the emperor said, his voice suddenly weary. “Carry on, then. I want the girl’s abilities expanded to include more than one at a time. We won’t win any wars if it takes ten minutes to kill two people.”

  Kane’s face reddened, but he nodded. “Yes, High One. And my breeding-program proposal? I believe it wise to initiate it while the girl is still young. I will donate my planet, Arcadia, to the cause.”

  “No, no. Let’s see how far we can push her first. Once the enemy is overcome, we’ll discuss it again.” The emperor’s voice had faded to a whisper now. It seemed whatever strength he’d summoned for the conversation was gone. “You are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

  The emperor must have clicked out, because Kane turned to Ember, who still lay on her back. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen that still displayed the man slumped over the ship’s controls. She had been so determined, yet Kane had broken her. He had won.

  Kane approached like a cat ready to pounce. He stopped in front of her. “You embarrassed me in front of the emperor.”

  The kick to her ribs came before she was ready for it, and she found herself doubled in a different kind of pain.

  He glowered at her from above, his words slow and dangerous. “Do not hesitate like that ever again.” Then he strode back to the desk and began messing with the screen once more. “Should have sent her straight there,” he muttered to himself.

  His words faded from Ember’s mind as she continued to stare at the dead man’s body on the screen. She reached out, wishing to feel his fire, to let his anger fuel her once again. Then she stifled a gasp. His light still glowed. It was faint, barely there.

  Then the dead man’s hand twitched.

  The screen went dark, and all she could see were the stars outside once again.

  23

  Ember spent the day in her quarters. After she’d missed the first class, her guard had come in and tried to persuade her to come out, but Ember had told him off. She’d fully expected him to call in a reinforcement, but for the next few hours she heard him talking in a low voice outside her door. She didn’t much care what they decided to do with her now.

  After skipping breakfast and lunch, she barely noticed when a guard brought in a tray of dinner. A different guard this time, a woman. She shot Ember a pitiful look as she left.

  Ember didn’t want her pity. She didn’t want their food, their fancy quarters. She just wanted to be home, caring for her father. She wanted to ask him the questions she’d never thought to ask. To the Roma he was an outsider. It didn’t matter where exactly he’d come from, just that he hadn’t been raised among them. Ember hadn’t ever considered asking where he was born, who his parents were, where he had spent his childhood. Even when she found that horrible article about his military service, she had shoved the questions away. They just confirmed the strangeness, the other-ness, of her father’s past life.

  She’d give anything to go back now and ask him more. When had they discovered he was a flicker? Had he been raised on stations like Stefan? And the biggest question of all.

  Was he a flare too?

  She couldn’t ask him now, but perhaps there was another way to find out.

  When the hallway went quiet, Ember stepped into the corridor, noting with satisfaction that her guard had finally stepped away. Then she headed for the lift.

  The recreation deck was much smaller here than on the station. In fact, it took up only a portion of the eleventh deck, and there were far fewer people. The music was just as loud, though; perhaps louder with less conversation to compete with. Couples grated against each other in the colorful lights. Ember grimaced at the assault to her senses.

  She scanned the room and found the info screens imbedded in the wall on the opposite end. Only one faced away from the dance floor, its booth occupied by a couple in a passionate make-out session. Ember rolled her eyes. She’d wait a few minutes, then confront them.

  Ember caught sight of Eris at the bar, holding a delicate glass with some kind of frothy pink concoction. Eris spotted her at the same time. But instead of glaring at Ember as she usually did, Eris’s eyes flew open and she scrambled off her stool, spilling some of the drink onto her lap.

  Then her companion turned around. Stefan eyed her for a moment, expressionless.

  Ember realized some of the dancers had stopped and were now staring at her the same way. Some stumbled backward, giving her a wide berth, while others just glared.

  She looked around, wondering if there was an officer behind her or something, but it seemed they were indeed staring at her. “What?” she snapped. Had word gotten out about this morning?

  “Ember,” Stefan called in a stiff voice, still sitting at the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  Eris sent him a glowering look.

  Half the room had noticed her now. Reeling, she found herself making her way toward the bar.

  Stefan said something to the bartender, who promptly went to work filling a large round container, which began to emit thick white smoke. Then he slapped a cover on it and handed it to Stefan.

  He passed it to Ember. “Here. You look like you need this.”

  She eyed it curiously. The bowl had a bubbly red liquid and some kind of plastic dome over the top.

  “What is this?” she asked, examining the strange creation.

  “The dome keeps the heat in. Just pull the lid off when you’re ready.”

  Eris was staring, bug-eyed, at the strange drink. “Is that a steel mill? You’re kidding me. She can’t handle that.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Stefan was glaring at his hands now. He seemed so formal, so aloof. The people on the dance floor had resumed their grating again, but Ember could still feel dozens of eyes boring into her back. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Well?” Eris asked. “You going to stare at it or drink it?”

  What she really wanted to do was pour it over the girl’s head, but that seemed like a waste of perfectly good liquor. With a shrug, Ember snapped the dome off, releasing a plume of smoke, and brought the glass to her mouth. She heard some of the conversation around her die as she began to gulp it down.

  Stefan had mentioned heat, but it wasn’t figurative. An actua
l, physical heat surged down her throat and settled in her stomach, sending a shock wave through her bloodstream. She welcomed the pain, opening up to it.

  “Check this out,” someone said behind her, and his date shushed him. Stefan watched her wordlessly. His expression was just enough to get her through as the last few drops went down. Then she decisively smacked the container against the clear counter.

  A few people clapped, and Stefan’s lips tugged upward. Eris’s face registered shock, but she quickly turned back to her drink, feigning disinterest.

  Ember glanced across the dance floor at the info screens. The couple was still there, hands roaming in improper places. If Talpa saw an unwed couple acting like that in public, they would be exiled on the spot. Or forced to marry. They probably wouldn’t even notice if she used the screen behind them.

  “Just out and about, then, gypsy?” Eris asked. “You aren’t exactly a rec-deck girl. More like the hiding-in-the-shadows type.”

  “Just heading to the info screens.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She coughed to clear her throat, suddenly wishing for a sip of water.

  “I didn’t take you for a gamer, either. I thought gypsies made their money dancing and singing. Among other things.” Her gaze shifted to the couple across the room as well, and Ember caught the implication.

  “Can I get you another drink, Ember?” Stefan cut in.

  “No,” a woman said, placing a hand on Ember’s shoulder. “She’s had enough for tonight.”

  Ember turned and blinked. Mar stood there, grinning.

  She laughed at Ember’s expression. “Well? You said we were gaming, right? Let’s go.” She took Ember’s arm and pulled her toward the dance floor before Ember knew what was happening.

  “You’re here,” Ember managed, her voice still a bit raspy.

  “Well, you’re a bright one, aren’t you? Yep, I got here a few hours ago.” She shrugged and released Ember’s arm, still plowing through the dancing crowd. “I don’t really want to be here, but I am. Security analyst, flicker division, at your service.”

  “I thought you failed phase three.”

  Mar snorted. “No, Eris failed. And miserably, from what I hear. I passed it, just not in the way they wanted.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She grinned. “I waited by the door that night. When the guy came in, I whacked him over the head with a chair.”

  For the first time in days, Ember found herself smiling. “I wish I could have seen that.”

  The make-out couple must have seen them coming because they finally pushed to their feet and stepped out of the booth. They had difficulty walking they were so entangled, their hands in each other’s pockets. Ember didn’t have to guess where they were headed next.

  Ember glanced back at the bar. Eris was desperately trying to capture Stefan’s attention, but he was watching Ember out of the corner of his eye, an odd expression on his face.

  “So,” Mar said as she plopped herself into the chair the couple had just vacated. “What are you looking for? I’m assuming the gaming thing was just a ploy.”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.” Ember strode to the screen and hit it a little too hard. It lit up quickly. She settled into the other chair and began her search, swiping past the latest news. A missing freighter on an enemy planet, a disastrous-plague warning off the edge of the Gajon Galaxy. A new Empire station’s construction announced in the twenty-third sector. Nothing about Earth or the Union. For as often as the commander mentioned his enemies, the lack of news seemed odd. How could there be no word of them when the Empire was constantly at war?

  She switched to the search field and entered Mario Nicholas. Before she’d finished, two dozen articles sprang up, all with the tag Flicker. Her heart galloped in her chest as she clicked on the first one.

  “You’re looking up famous flickers?” Mar asked. Her grin had faded, and she stared at the screen in disgust. She pulled a bag out of her jacket and began popping what looked like nuts into her mouth.

  Ember didn’t reply. She was too busy reading the articles. They were all similar to the first—another award for excellent service in battle. Mario Nicholas Lucinello was a product of the flicker breeding program and was rarely seen in public. Some speculated whether he’d be the youngest flicker ever retired to Empyrean.

  She scanned the list again, but none of the articles said anything about him going missing. Her heart soared as she realized he might not be her father after all. Then she brought the images up closer, and her shoulders slumped. The man was unmistakably a younger version of Dai. He didn’t face the crowd proudly as a military hero would. Instead, he positioned himself behind his leaders, always turned away from the camera. That fit him as well. He’d never been a sociable man.

  “Hey,” Mar said. “I think I’ve heard of this guy. He was famous twenty years ago, right?”

  Ember barely heard her. At the very bottom of the list was a film sequence. She clicked on it, then sat back to watch.

  Dai—or Mario—stood atop a grand platform, looking down on a huge crowd. People shouted at him from down below. Commander Kane walked out and raised his arms. He called something out to those beneath him, and the crowd erupted in anger. Guards surrounded the people, Ember realized now, shoving them even closer together, herding them.

  Kane lowered his arms and took a step back. His expression was murderous. He turned to Mario and said something under his breath.

  Mario pressed his eyes shut, but he nodded. A deep breath, and then the screams began.

  Ember hit Exit and stared at the screen in shock for a long moment.

  It was true. Dai was a flare, the only documented person in history who could do what Ember could. The knowledge was supposed to make her feel better, but somehow she just felt worse. He hadn’t resisted at all.

  He hadn’t even worn a collar.

  Mar looked sick, a nut half chewed in her mouth. She swallowed it and rose to her feet. “Uh, that was disturbing. Did he just—just do what I think he did?”

  “Stars,” a girl said behind them. “I knew it was her. Hey, Peter, the assassin’s sitting right here.”

  A group had assembled at the booth’s opening. Most of the visitors kept their distance, but one pushed his way through and folded his arms. “Yep, it’s her.”

  Ember stood as well, facing him. “Did you just call me an assassin?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s what you are, right? We all saw what you did this morning.”

  “What is he talking about?” Mar muttered.

  “You must’ve just gotten here if you haven’t seen it yet,” he said to Mar. “Everybody in three galaxies has seen it multiple times.”

  “It?” Ember repeated, her stomach plummeting.

  The guy went to the screen and swiped a few times. Then he pulled up an article with a dark-blue star. “Want to see it again, guys?”

  “Yeah,” a few of the group said, although most of them fidgeted uncomfortably.

  The film sequence began. A reporter with blue hair and a long face like Talon’s announced breaking news in Common. The Empire had just deployed nearly half its forces to an undisclosed location. Sources said they had received a tip about the Union’s newest location and officials were determined to end the war once and for all.

  “It has also been confirmed that the Empire has a secret weapon,” the man continued. “It could quite possibly be the rise of not a flicker, but—get this—a flare. If it’s true, the emperor’s victory over the Union is assured.”

  Then the scene shifted, and Ember felt her throat tighten. A small ship surrounded by several others. It had been edited to look darker, more sinister than it really was.

  Then a girl with dark-black hair, looking stern.

  A shot of the woman crumpling to the floor. Another shot of herself, appearing determined and focused. The man slumping over the controls. Commander Kane’s smug smile.

  The reporter continued to talk, but Ember was on her feet. She stabbed the s
creen off and whirled to face the group, who stared back at her like deer frozen in a hunter’s scope.

  The Empire had edited out everything. The couple’s peaceful surrender. Her screaming on the floor, the man’s cries and promises for vengeance. Kane’s kick to her ribs. She had a massive black bruise under her shirt because of it.

  Mar was standing too, looking very much like the others. It was an expression all too familiar to Ember now, one she should have seen in Stefan when she first entered. Shock. Horror. Revulsion.

  The entire ship knew about her now. If that man was right, several galaxies did. The only reason this video would have leaked was because the Empire wanted it to. Kane hadn’t meant to keep her a secret for long. He wanted to intimidate the Union, make them surrender upon their arrival. Had Amai seen this too? Was their deal completely off now? She could imagine the Union ordering the ship’s destruction any minute now, relieved they’d managed to kill the dangerous “secret weapon” before it reached them. This video could very well have sentenced them all to death.

  Ember was breathing hard now. “It said half our forces were mobilized,” she said to the staring group. “Where will the battle take place?”

  Everyone looked at each other as if she’d asked them a question in Romani.

  “Oh,” Mar said, her voice wobbly. “I was going to tell you tonight sometime. Um, I overheard it at the station before they sent me here.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The Union made Earth their new base. The emperor has sent us to destroy every last trace of them.”

  Minutes later, Ember found herself in her quarters. She remembered pushing through the staring people on the rec deck and glimpses of reckless sprinting through the hallway, but there was too much on her mind to care how she’d looked to the others. Everyone knew what she was now.

  Everybody but Ember.

  It made sense now. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t put it all together before. The Union had her father at their camp because they were stationed nearby. They’d probably chosen Earth because it was abandoned and barely habitable. And they knew the Empire was aware of their location. Why else would Amai insist on blowing up this particular ship? If she could take out a high commander and a dozen trained flickers in one blow, that would be a huge victory indeed.