Heretics (Stars Edge: Nel Bently Book 4)

by V. S. Holmes

  “It’s okay. We’re both okay.” She raked another concerned examination over the other woman’s body to reassure herself. “You are okay, right?”

  “Other than the first chopper I think everyone got out.” Lin nodded, swallowing visibly.

  “Don’t think much could make it through that.” Nel jerked a thumb at the carnage beyond the eastern horizon. There was so much to ask Lin, to tell her about the sinister picture Nel pieced together. Not the time or place, she warned herself. Blaming IDH for murder and kidnapping was iffy any time, but downright reckless when they were the ones piloting the fleet of choppers away from fiery doom. Fiery doom they probably caused.

  Lin’s lips brushed over hers then, gentle, certain. “I’m okay. I went back to our rooms and you weren’t there. I grabbed your bags, but…” Her breath hitched anew as she tugged the meteorite bolo from her pocket and placed it, reverent, over Nel’s head. “Where did you go?”

  “Look, when we get there—to wherever we’re headed—I need to talk to you.”

  Lin’s smile faltered. “About us?”

  “No,” Nel reassured, squeezing the long brown fingers entwined in hers. “I told you there’s something else going on. Well I think I have evidence now. I’m just not quite sure what it’s pointing at.” She drew a breath. “Or I’m just afraid of what I’m seeing.”

  Lin’s dark eyes flicked up to Nel. “IDH didn’t do that.”

  Nel held her gaze. “Do you know that?”

  “The evidence—”

  “If you can pop several million people into the stars like a Delta frequent flyer, you sure as fuck can fabricate evidence. I’m asking if you know.” She reached out and pressed a hand to Lin’s chest, in the soft place between her breast and clavicle. “Here.”

  Lin’s eyes darkened. “Nel, I told you—”

  Nel pressed her fingers to Lin’s mouth. She couldn’t handle more disbelief. Not when every ounce of her remaining faith was locked around Letnan Nalawangsa’s pinkie. She searched Lin’s face for a hint of suspicion, a tiny echo of the recklessness that brought them together months—no, years—ago. This woman had broken rules for her. A lot of them. She had condemned a man, risked a rank that she would, by all accounts, do anything for.

  The hard ridges of the glove on Lin’s hand bit into her skinned palm. She killed for me. If there was one thing Nel was certain about, it was how far Lin would go for something she wanted. I just have to make sure we want the same things. “I’m just happy you’re alive. I couldn’t see you in the mess.” She drew a breath. “Fuck. All those people. Did you see—”

  “Saw enough.” Lin looked away. “It doesn’t feel right, does it?” The whisper was almost lost against the churning engines, but Nel caught the meaning.

  “It isn’t right. None of this is.”

  Her world tipped, inverted, backwards, in stark contrast to the one that brought her this far. I should be dizzy. She glanced down, seeing the fingers laced with hers. Through all the chaos of her life in the past two years, there was one anchor point, one tether keeping her from spinning into the void of space. Thousands of things needed to be discussed, but one couldn’t wait.

  Her chest howled, the sensation erupting from her in compulsion. She lifted her other hand, tangling it into the mass of Lin’s windswept hair. “Lin. Every time we’re together how I feel about you, and how serious that is, takes up my every waking thought. I can’t focus on anything else when you’re right here. You make me feel things I—” She faltered into silence. “You make me feel not in control. And I’ve never felt that way about another person.”

  Lin’s soot-stained thumb traced a line down Nel’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Look, in the dark belly of that chopper when I wasn’t sure if you were alive, I realized something.” Her pulse hammered with the thunder of the blades bearing them toward Chile. By the time her mind made sense of her heart, it beat as if she were sprinting. Terror washed over her again. This time, it left only stillness.

  “What is it?” Lin asked, eyes steady, delving. The mole on her throat was Nel’s Polaris, guiding her up to the Circinus across her cheekbones and the yawning nebula of her eyes.

  “I’m a loner. Always have been. Don’t play well with others. But part of why that worked was I always had someone. Just one someone. I could wake up in the fucking black void of space that scares the shit out of me and if I had that person, I knew I’d be okay.”

  Her muscles begged to pace, if only for the illusion of movement, of progress, of running. Everything hinged on this. One woman’s trust. One woman’s answer. “First it was my dad—one of those cartoon pairs, where I’m like his mini me. I was a mess after he died, just grade-A wrecked. Did a lot of stupid things. Lot of reckless things. But then I found Mikey. The good guy to my bitch. Hitched my trowel to his star. Back there, when that building blew—”

  Lin reached out, hand cupping Nel’s face, wiping tears from her sweat-damp cheeks. “Nel, it’s okay. No one else is going anywhere,” she began.

  “You’ve only known me reeling.” Nel batted the words away with an impatient headshake. “I need someone I trust in my corner. And I don’t mean some codependent bullshit. I can handle space—need it, really. I’m the one sailing, but I also need a star to steer by. Someone who sheds enough light so I can trust my instincts.” Her pulse thrummed against Lin’s fingers on her wrist. She twisted her hand until their palms pressed together, the glove leaving red grooves in her flesh.

  Lin’s eyes bored into Nel’s.

  “I’ve been fucked up lately because I lost my star. And I wasn’t letting you be one. But, fuck, you’re this beacon, burning away so much darkness it’s hard to look at you sometimes. You’re a supernova, and I love you for it.”

  “I would damn the known universe, Nel, if it meant keeping you by my side.” There. There’s the woman who faced an imploding planet for me. There was the ferocity. The danger. Then Lin’s lips were on Nel’s, engulfing her. Agony crashed against Nel’s elation and the dam holding back her terror, her frustration, holding back what made Nel who she was, shattered.

  EIGHTEEN

  Strange silence filled the night, pulled, not from the lack of sound, but the understanding that after the clamor of confession, the scream of survival, of sacrifice, there must follow a great quiet. Nel and Lin retired, wordless, to the tiny tin can of their bunk on the carrier, wedged under the crew quarters and the laundry. In another world, they might have spent the evening entwined. Instead, their hands wandered, leaving fingerprints on one another’s hearts and minds, assuring that what wounds still marred their skin were superficial, healed, like their souls, with time.

  Hours later, with the waves of the southern Atlantic crashing against the ship’s bow, a pinging comm dragged Nel from her exhausted sleep. She groaned, peering blearily at her wrist. At least her body was too tired to care that their tiny metal capsule of a room tipped with every massive swell.

  Another ping brought a tired frown to Lin’s face. “You’re supposed to have that silenced.”

  “It is,” Nel protested, jabbing at the tech wrapping her wrist. The tiny symbols framing the screen’s readout still glowed as usual. “It is,” she repeated with certainty. Except for emergencies or overrides. It seemed like an eternity since she programmed her computer to scan all the database updates, to alert her if something new popped up referencing Samsara or sonic attacks. It hadn’t stopped pinging for most of the ride to the carrier.

  She flicked to her inbox, prepared to discard yet another discussion on what happened in Alexandria. A think piece wasn’t going to make sense of senseless violence. She had been there, boots on the ground, and still wasn’t sure what went down. It wasn’t Andy’s hot take awaiting her, however, but a shipping manifest.

  SHIPPING MANIFEST (IDH)

  SENDER: Institute for the Development of Humanity, Odyssey of Earth Field Branch.

  PERSONNEL CODE: Harris,
IDH-OOE-23812

  RECIPIENT: ALMA, Chile

  CONTENTS: [REDACTED; CLASSIFIED] IDH5612

  DETAILS: Priority. Departure 0250 from IDH T7 El Coloso, via Osprey IDH-712; Arrival 1920 to ALMA airstrip.

  She shoved her hair off her face, sitting up to blink at the glowing, glitching screen. When Lin craned her neck in an attempt to see the contents, Nel dropped her wrist. “From Phil. Just more stuff on Samsara.”

  Lin tossed over, hand tucking itself around Nel’s bare waist before she muttered back into sleep. Nel stared at the gray walls of their cabin, mind churning. IDH-5612. The alphanumerics were emblazoned across her mind from the harrowing minutes holding bloody fabric to a stranger’s wound. No one commissioned a high-tech military chopper to transport a backup generator. Not even IDH, with their ability to overcomplicate literally anything.

  And, last she checked, generators weren’t classified.

  She slipped from Lin’s unconscious grasp and drew on the ship-issued gray sweat suit. What few things IDH had managed to salvage from the base before it blew were stowed in shipping containers on the hangar deck. If the crate was anywhere, Nel guessed, it’d be there.

  Metal groaned under each swell, a mechanical dirge. Every surface, even down beneath the wind, was sticky with salt. Low lights flickered along the corridor as she wound through the crew quarters. Several steep stairways and narrow passageways later, she emerged onto the open deck. Ocean wind whipped her exposed skin, but she raised her face to the pain. It was a reminder she was alive. Beyond the spinning radar and blinking landing lights, the ocean was a rumbling void, sharing space’s promise for destruction if you strayed too far into the black.

  They were allowed to wander within certain bounds, but cargo areas were not included. She reached the elevator and slipped under its safety wires as they rose from the floor.

  “Authorized personnel only, ma’am!” a sailor barked.

  “Sorry, sir,” she flashed a smile, fumbling for credentials she didn’t have. “Just got word I’m wanted for a debriefing with Dr. Ndebele. Haven’t learned my way around this thing yet. Need to see my ID?”

  “Nah, saw you disembark with the rest.” He settled into an at-ease stance. “Takes most a good month to get their bearings. Half of the time we all just feel like rats looking for the treat at the end of the maze.”

  Nel shrugged deeper into her sweatshirt with a humorless laugh. “I always feel that way no matter where I am.” A klaxon sounded and they descended to the hangar deck. Before he could offer to point her in the right direction, she shot a wave over her shoulder and disappeared into the shadows between the F-18s. “Thanks!”

  Her face settled back into neutrality. Faking friendliness was easier when she felt nothing beyond a clawing certainty that she was on the wrong side. And I’ll do whatever I can to prove that to Lin. The rear of the hangar deck held several stacked carrier containers, but one, set apart from the rest, was emblazoned with Odyssey’s shipping information. The papers on the side claimed it held roughly 42,000 pounds of cargo. The heavy latch was locked, but Nel tried it anyway. A loud thunk sent her back into the shadows. One. Two. Perhaps the sound was lost in the mechanical white noise of the carrier. In the stillness, she saw the slim black security pad beside the door. Of course.

  It looked like most of the IDH locks, with fingerprint and iris scanning, plus a keypad. The last brought a grin to her face. Shielding it from view of the main hangar, she navigated to the main menu. It might not work, but she had to try. Her shaking fingers fumbled at the keys and she winced with each tiny beep. Hopefully whatever she found inside would justify Nel’s use of Lin’s credentials.

  A beat, a blink, and the door swung open. Rust rained from above as she stepped inside, sifting onto her shoulders in industrial anointing. A glance told her the door remained propped open as she slipped in.

  The single crate in the center was uncovered. Dark, gleaming metal embedded with brilliant copper. A few years ago, she would have wondered at sci-fi nerds taking LARPing a few steps too far. Memories of Samsara, however, burned in her recent memory. But where Samsara’s tech was incorporated into the very bones and architecture, these ended in plugs and raw wires, awaiting shore power.

  “Circuits,” she whispered.

  Again, three symbols were carved across the device Here, though, there was no initial language to deface. She swiped through the messages Phil sent her, hoping for a primer. Samsara had once been a paragon of peace. Of unity. Peace, eternity, death. And defaced, her creators were branded as savages and strangers. The words before her now were new—new to Nel, at least. She traced each one, holding her comm’s camera over the rough inscriptions. Hopefully she’d have time to analyze this before its sinister use came to fruition.

  Nel’s stomach clenched and she turned away. The console in the center of the device mimicked the one on Samsara, but where the alien planet’s had been gleaming and elegant, filled with intricacy that only belonged, truly, to a master artist or advanced mechanics, Earth’s embodied imperfection.

  Across time and space another planet had gone dark, its people disappearing in a puff of wind and sand. And now she found the same machinery on hers.

  Fuck.

  Aligning Samsara’s console model with its true form triggered its imposition. And while Nel was fairly certain her Earth Science class hadn’t been wrong about what made up the planet’s core, she wasn’t willing to test the theory. Besides, things can be rewired. Upgraded.

  Despite the dark circuits between them, faint glimmering energy lit a few places. She peered closer, tracing the faint signs of life. Bakjeeri. Qena. Alexandria. And now the Atacama. Ice filled her chest as she followed the route of their itinerary. Everything traced back to those places of first contact. This wasn’t a rescue mission. This wasn’t technological forensic reconstruction. It was a massive reboot button.

  And we’re one step away from “power on.”

  Certainty rooted in her gut. Drifting above her imploding mythos, Lin had asked how Nel would feel on Judgement Day. Nel no longer had to wonder. Here were fanatics of Lin’s gods, strangers on Earth, come to wreak technological judgement across the surface of Nel’s world.

  She reached out, fingers millimeters from touching the dark splotch on Chile’s coast. Los Cerros Esperando VII. Whoever made this intended to brand Earth’s occupants as lesser, as sinners, as heretics. And Nel would do anything for Earth’s salvation. The residual energy of a promise pulsed in the lens of air between her hand and the device. She just wasn’t sure whether it was her promise to save or their promise to burn.

  *

  Nel kept her steps steady, easy, as she slipped through the carrier’s narrow passages. Her boots tapped on the riveted metal. Every window she passed, she glanced at her reflection, wondering if anything gave her away.

  It was agony, losing her planet. It was visceral, a rending she had felt twice before. The people who had made her, with blood and kindness, with love and challenge. Her pulse hammered by the time she returned to the crew quarters. Dim lights cast too-long shadows each time she passed the little inset entranceways.

  When their door was locked behind her, she leaned back. Staring. Lin still snored in the rumpled sheets. Nel tried to organize the last few days in her head. Betrayal. Pain. Fire. Confession. It was a blur of frustration and insight that she didn’t particularly like. They could have been there a week or a month and Nel wouldn’t know the difference. Somehow, even the muted monochrome of their room seemed a shade different now that she knew the truth. IDH was going to sacrifice Earth.

  It took a moment to find Max’s email, and several more to collect the information she had gathered over the past few weeks and the final keystone of the photos. She scanned her garbled words once, then sent it into the ether with a held breath and every prayer she knew.

  It was only a matter of time before they realized she knew. She didn’t need to defend herself, she didn’t need to
run, not yet. All she needed was her single ally in all of this. Her supernova. She paced the floor, hands flexing in an attempt to keep herself from making a mad dash overboard.

  A second later her com blinked.

  ATTN: DR. ANNELISE BENTLY TO REPORT TO DR. NDEBELE’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.

  That was quick. Lin bolted up at the noise and blood flooded Nel’s mouth as she bit into her cheek with surprise.

  “What is it?” Lin’s eyes brightened as they settled on Nel, but her brows curled in confusion when she glanced at the emergency alert on her comm. “Why do they—”

  “I found something. The reason our train was attacked. The reason Moe died in that blast. The reason the base at Alexandria didn’t blow until we left. We brought doom to Earth.”

  Lin pushed her hair away from her tired face with a grimace. “What did you do?”

  A pit opened under Nel’s heart. She brought up the documents on her screen, frantically swiping through until she found the images. “See? This? And Arnav’s report explains that whatever the device on Samsara was, the gate stuff was secondary. Like a backup plan or something. Earth was the target if Samsara failed.”

  “How did you get these?”

  “I had a search-alert set up, alright? It’s shipping out in—” she checked the time, “—twenty minutes. You said you needed evidence, Lin. I found it. Hidden in the bowels of this ship.” Was it the death throes of old habits or actual warning clanging in her skull at the hesitation on Lin’s face?

  Lines tightened around Lin’s eyes, appearing in the air between her and Nel. “That device is supposed to shield our data lines from the signal. We’ve been working on it for weeks. We’re close to cracking it—once we narrow the frequency and signature and find out what, exactly, it’s triggering, we should be set.”