The Hunt

by Megan Shepherd

  “I don’t want to be alone with him!” Nok threw a finger toward Bonebreak.

  “She is right,” Mali interrupted. “We should not separate. It has taken us a long time to finally be together again. And also I think we are stronger as a group.” She paused. “A hell of a lot stronger.”

  She smiled to herself, proud of her first successful use of cursing.

  Anya reached out and squeezed her hand. Strength in numbers was an idea Anya had often talked about, back when they’d been trapped by the same private owner. Even at a young age, Anya had cared enough about freeing humanity to fight for it. At the time, Mali hadn’t wanted to listen. She had survived for years by being on her own. But now, as she looked around the room, she understood the importance of friends.

  “I won’t let anything happen to Sparrow,” Cora said to Nok. “I promise.”

  “What about you two?” Leon asked, jerking his chin toward Mali and Anya. “You in?”

  When his eyes met Mali’s, she recoiled a little bit as that odd heartbeat sensation grew stronger. Suddenly her mouth felt dry. She knew exactly how risky it would be to go back. She knew that if she agreed, she might never have a chance to see the desert where she was born—those hazy memories of camels and bright sun. But she also knew that the human thing to do would be to agree.

  “Yes,” she said, and Anya nodded as well.

  Nok paced uneasily and exchanged a long look with Rolf. She sat nervously in the second pilot’s chair. “I still don’t like it, but I’ll hear you out.”

  “Yeah, so what’s the genius plan?” Leon said.

  Cora paced across the floor. “Fian is a traitor, but Tessela isn’t. If we can get back to the Hunt, we can get the dart guns, and she can alert the others. The Fifth of Five will join us.”

  “That’s the extent of your plan?” Leon laid his head down on the teddy bear. “I’m regretting my decision already.”

  “The boy is, for once, correct,” Bonebreak said. “You are thinking like a human, not a Kindred. Even if there are some loyal to your cause on the station, fighting will do nothing but get yourselves killed. They will always be stronger than you.”

  “It’s the only option we have,” Cora said.

  “It isn’t,” Bonebreak said cryptically. “I can offer a better option that will not result in a war.”

  Mali whipped her head around to him and narrowed her eyes. “Do not trust a thing he says,” she started, but Cora held up a hand for her to be quiet.

  “Go on.” Cora nodded for Bonebreak to continue, and Mali scowled.

  Bonebreak drummed his fingers together. “Your skinny friend with the pink hair is right.” He pointed a pulpy finger at Nok. “The six of you couldn’t make a dent in the Kindred’s army, even with weapons, and even with your little mind tricks.” His voice grew cold as he glanced at Anya. “Your original plan to run the Gauntlet was wiser.”

  “Didn’t you hear Rolf?” Cora said. “It started today. We missed it. The module won’t return to the station for another twenty years.”

  Bonebreak drummed his fingers together faster. Mali couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but she pictured a grin that matched the creepy delight in his voice. “That is true. The Gauntlet will not return to the Kindred aggregate station number 10-91 for six hundred rotations. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t go elsewhere. Once it leaves the Kindred’s station, it happens to be headed for a Mosca planet named Drogane. I spent some time there in my youth—a lovely place. I could take you. One of you could still run it, free your species, much celebration.”

  The ship was so quiet that Mali could hear only Bonebreak’s raspy breathing behind his mask. She curled her hands into fists. “He already betrayed us once. He will again.”

  Cora nodded. “Mali makes a good point, Bonebreak.”

  “It is true that I was going to turn you over to the Kindred, but not on a whim. They were simply offering a better deal. And I am always loyal to those who offer me the best deal. Just ask that one.” He jabbed a finger in Leon’s direction.

  Leon snorted. “Sure, but what if it’s a deal we don’t want to make?”

  “Just listen to my proposal, childrens. I take you to Drogane. My brother lives there; he will shelter us all in his house with his own little childrens. You must have a sponsor—I will fill this role. I will help prepare you for the Gauntlet tests, girl.”

  “What’s in it for you?” Cora asked.

  Mali paced, fighting the urge to yell at all of them that it was a very bad idea to even be considering accepting his help.

  Bonebreak stood. Hunched over, he was barely taller than Mali, but his chest was so wide he was nearly twice her size. “Exclusive trade rights. If you beat the Gauntlet, humans will be free to barter and participate in commerce. The Kindred and the Gatherers are too formal for our tastes, when it comes to business transactions. And the Axion—not even we like to work with them. They’re frighteningly brilliant, always scheming something. You humans don’t care as much about the rules—I like that. If you agree that I will be your exclusive trading partner once you gain autonomy, I will help you beat the Gauntlet, and we will all make mountains of money.”

  Mali kept waiting for Cora to say no. To realize that nothing was worth placing trust in Bonebreak. But Cora kept running her fingers over Lucky’s journal, as though she couldn’t quite get away from what he had said.

  “Okay,” Cora said, sounding slightly hesitant.

  Shit, Mali thought, and didn’t even take the time to congratulate herself on her second successful use of cursing. She spun on Cora. “This is a mistake.”

  “Ignore the angry one,” Bonebreak said, sweeping his hand in Mali’s direction. “You are making the right choice. Now, on to Drogane. It takes a half rotation, so we will need to refuel. And purchase a gift for my brother; a Mosca never sees family empty-handed.”

  “We don’t have any more money,” Cora said.

  Bonebreak glanced around the room, rubbing his chin beneath the mask. “We could always chop up your friend. The dead one, I mean. He doesn’t need his body anymore, and I know a black-market dealer not far from here who—”

  “No!” Cora looked horrified. “Don’t touch him.”

  Bonebreak cocked his head. “Your hair, then. That will pay for fuel and landing fees.”

  Bonebreak slid a knife out of his pocket.

  “Deal.” Cora grabbed the knife and strode to the facilities room in the back of the ship, slamming the door behind her, as though she was afraid she would lose her resolve.

  The slam reverberated, ending the conversation in the main section of the ship. Nok and Rolf looked at each other uneasily. Leon started picking at the shielding and thread on his shoulder.

  Mali paced, fears rumbling in her mind. Part of her agreed with what Lucky had said. Every time she looked at the scars on her hands she was reminded of how much humans deserved better.

  But trusting a Mosca wasn’t the way. The last time she had trusted a Mosca was back on Earth, when she had been four years old and watching the goats on the dunes near her family’s camp. A hunchback man in a strange mask had told her a goat had run away, but he could take her to it. Not long after, she had awoken chained to a stake in a Mosca marketplace.

  If you have no owner, the Mosca had said, then I claim you for my own.

  She paced over to Anya, arms folded tight. “I do not like this,” she whispered. “We have no private owner. We have no paperwork. There is nothing to stop Bonebreak from claiming us as his own property the moment we land on his planet.”

  Anya thought about this for a moment. “Do you remember how we got away from that Mosca scum on station 3-06?”

  Mali had been twelve years old. Anya only five, but already tough. They had been caged together by a private owner who had made them fight with other girls and a chimpanzee.

  But then they’d figured a way out.

  Mali nodded. “Yes. I must tell Cora. It is our only chance of ensuring that Boneb
reak will not cheat us.”

  44

  Cora

  THE SHIP’S FACILITIES ROOM had no mirror, but the walls were made of a dull reflective material that projected back a murky image of her face.

  She looked awful.

  The oversized safari clothes she’d grabbed hung limply on her frame. They looked almost like the plain khaki uniform she had worn in juvenile detention. Her eyes were red with lack of sleep, and her face looked gaunter. Her hair was a nest of long, tangled curls.

  She squeezed Bonebreak’s knife in one fist and tilted her head to the left, so her hair spilled out to one side. She twisted it into a tight, thick coil that she could cut through with one slice, and set the blade against the outside strands.

  It’s just hair.

  But it didn’t feel like nothing. If she did this, it would trigger a new series of events. Bonebreak would take them to his brother’s planet. They’d have to figure out how to work with him—and she’d have to continue training, without Cassian now. This was more than one slice of the knife. This was, maybe, cutting off her last chance to go home.

  Sadie with her floppy old-dog ears. Charlie’s bedroom that always smelled like gym clothes. The view of the woodpecker-holed maple tree outside her window.

  The only way to know if home was even still there was to set the knife down and stay on this ship. The thought filled her with a new worry—had she decided to turn back because she couldn’t face the reality of what they might find? A nearly 70 percent chance wasn’t one hundred, as Rolf had said. Her heart thumped, hard. No. No. She could still feel the warmth from that sun. In her heart, she knew that Earth was still there.

  She snapped her eyes open. Her reflection looked back at her with cold determination. Lucky, out of all of them, had been the one with a cause. And now it was her cause too.

  She set the knife’s blade against her rope of hair, just below her left ear, and started to saw.

  Someone banged at the door.

  Cora cursed, the knife skimming away along with only a few strands of hair. “What? I nearly stabbed myself.”

  Mali’s face looked back. In the shadows, her eyes were hooded, and the lines around her mouth seemed heavier.

  “I need to talk to you,” Mali said.

  Cora glanced out at the ship’s cabin, where the others were discussing logistics. She nodded for Mali to come in.

  “I have come to talk about Cassian.”

  And just like that, Cora’s tension returned. Only now it was met with the guilt that pounded hard, as she remembered seeing him through the crack in the tunnel. “I saw Cassian,” Cora admitted. “When we were fleeing the station in the drecktubes. They were interrogating him with some machine; it looked like torture.”

  The guilt pounded harder. Cassian was Mali’s friend. She might never forgive Cora for just having left him there to suffer.

  “I am not going to chastise you for leaving him,” Mali said, as though she could read her mind.

  Surprise made Cora straighten. “You aren’t?”

  Mali held up her scarred hands. “This is why I wish to speak to you. These scars are because I trusted a Mosca. It is a mistake to believe Bonebreak will adhere to his deal. If he gets a better offer, he will sell us the moment we set foot on his planet.”

  “He doesn’t own us. We’re wards of the Kindred state.”

  “Not since we left the station. We are unowned by anyone, which means Bonebreak could do whatever he wishes with us. Anya and I were once in a similar situation. We fled from our previous owner and trusted in a Mosca trader to take us to a safe preserve. He didn’t. He took possession of us himself and planned on selling us back to the same owner.”

  The space was so tight that Cora could smell Mali’s scent: salt and cotton. “What did you do?”

  “We sold ourselves to someone else first. Anya coordinated it with one of the Mosca trader’s underlings. He was not very clever. We were able to convince him to betray his commander. We said we’d be worth twice the price our previous owner would have paid. He fell for it, and stole a small vessel that would take us back to the Kindred’s station. But the first time we stopped to refuel, Anya and I spread a rumor that there were thousands of tokens on his ship. Dozens of other Mosca swarmed to steal from him, and in the chaos, we were able to escape again.” She lowered her hands, flexing the scarred fingers. “My point is, we must sell ourselves to someone else. Someone from an intelligent race who will not let Bonebreak betray us. Someone we trust.”

  Cora hugged her arms tightly. “Cassian.”

  Mali nodded. “He is the only one we can rely on.” She held up Lucky’s notebook, which Cora had left on the control panel. “Perhaps the weapons Lucky describes are not enough against an entire Kindred army, but they might be sufficient to free Cassian.”

  Cora blinked in surprise at the possibility.

  “But we already talked about this,” she stammered. “We can’t go back there. I’ll be arrested.”

  “You cannot,” Mali said. “But the Kindred are not looking for me or Leon. We could go back, he and I, and free Cassian with the weapons cache.”

  “You’ve discussed this with Leon?”

  “No, but he will come. He will do what is right. I know it.” She lowered her voice. “Armstrong preserve is on a moon not far from here. We will pass close to it. Have Nok and Rolf insist that they be dropped off there. It will be a convincing argument that they would prefer to have their baby there, among other humans, rather than in the unpredictability of a Mosca planet. While we are there, Leon and I can sneak off. Kindred supply ships make frequent runs. We can find a way to board one back to the station.”

  “Armstrong?” Cora squeezed the knife harder. “That’s the place Dane was talking about. He said it was a paradise, but Cassian warned me about it. Are you sure it’s safe for Nok and Rolf?”

  “It is the only choice we have.”

  Mali opened the door behind her and disappeared.

  With a shaky hand, Cora set Lucky’s notebook on the counter. A part of her wanted to pore over every page right then, soak up every last bit of him, even from beyond the grave. But there would be time for that; time to absorb every word, remember every detail.

  She squeezed the knife hard, looked in the mirror, and cut through her hair in one slice.

  It came away uneven from her shaking hand. Her reflection showed a messy asymmetrical cut, starting just under her left ear and hanging nearly to her right shoulder. She returned to the main cabin and tossed the rope of hair on the control panel in front of Bonebreak. The others paused in their conversations.

  “Here. It’s done. But I want to stop at Armstrong first.” From the corner of her eye she saw Mali whispering the plan in Rolf’s ear. “For Nok and Rolf’s sake, and also to bury Lucky’s body.”

  She squeezed the notebook harder. This was one last thing she could do for him, make sure his body rested in peace.

  Bonebreak shrugged. “We need supplies anyway. To Armstrong we go, then, childrens.”

  He shifted the controls and the ship veered sharply upward. Cora braced against the back of his chair as he hummed a strangely melodic little tune to himself in his crackling voice. For a while, the ship rumbled on through space. An hour passed, maybe two, and Cora clutched Lucky’s notebook the whole time.

  “Hold on tight,” Bonebreak said at last. “Entry into Armstrong’s atmosphere can be bumpy.”

  “We should sit in a circle,” Rolf said. “If we hold hands, it will provide stability.”

  Leon snorted. “I’m not doing that ‘Kumbaya’ shit.”

  “A circle is the most stable shape,” Rolf said, and sat next to him. He held out his hand to Nok, who scooted over between him and Anya and held out her hands. Mali scooted in too, and everyone linked hands. Cora looked over her shoulder at the white tarp, and a sharp pain stabbed through her.

  “Come on, Leon.” She reached out.

  He grumbled again as he scooted over, taking her hand
in his right and Rolf’s in his left. The ship suddenly pitched to the left, and they all held hands tighter, swaying with the movements.

  “So what’s this Armstrong place like?” Nok asked cautiously.

  “It’s where they send humans who turn nineteen and have been obedient,” Cora said, trying to sound optimistic in case Bonebreak was listening. “Like a reward. It’s a sort of nature preserve where they can govern themselves and live how they want.”

  Bonebreak glanced over his shoulder; she couldn’t read his expression.

  “Another fucking zoo,” Leon grumbled.

  “No,” Cora added. “There aren’t any bars, and the people there aren’t being watched. It’s the size of a small moon, and it’s habitable.”

  “But if it’s habitable,” Nok said, “why don’t any Kindred inhabit it? Why leave it for us?”

  Cora could feel the uneasiness in Nok’s words, and she felt uneasy too. She lowered her voice. “We won’t leave you there if it isn’t safe, Nok. I promise.” And then she raised her voice for Bonebreak to hear. “The Kindred are an astral species, not terrestrial.”

  But that uneasy feeling reached the tear in the back of Cora’s head, throbbing. She hoped she wasn’t leading Nok and Rolf—and all of them—into a situation even worse than the one they’d just come from.

  The ship dipped sharply. Nok shrieked, and they gripped hands harder. Bonebreak leaned forward, scratching his head, and then shoved a control upward. The ship pitched again. Cora had the feeling of free-falling. That awful rise of her stomach that made her just want to push everything down, to ball up tight, but she didn’t let go of either hand. Then the free fall ended abruptly, and there was a rumbling that made her legs and arms jiggle.

  “Ever flown before?” Leon barked to Bonebreak.

  “I did kill the best pilot,” Bonebreak muttered at the controls.

  The ship keeled sharply to the right. Cora couldn’t see the viewing panel from her place on the floor, but the colors had changed. No longer the dim shine of distant stars, but bright flashing colors, as if they were flying straight into a sunrise. Pressure built in her ears. It was the same pressure as when Cassian had materialized her out of the cage, making her body feel like it was breaking up into thousands of tiny particles, until it was all she could do to squeeze her eyes shut.