by L O Addison
There was a click as the lock was disengaged, but then a curse when the door didn’t swing open. Someone hammered on the door from outside, trying to shove it open. The guard quickly figured out that the door was jammed, and he gave up on the hammering. There was a short pause, and the three of them backed away from the door, unsure what was about to happen.
"Stop!" a voice hollered, barely audible through the metal door. "The room's filled with explosives, you idiot. Don’t shoot at the door!"
Matteo gave a satisfied nod and stepped back from the container. “That should keep them out for a bit.”
“And keep us trapped inside,” Adrien said grimly.
“Start looking for some way to escape,” Lio said, gesturing around the room.
They nodded in agreement and began exploring the room. One of the containers near the door was open, and Matteo strode over to it, peering inside. He frowned as he took in the contents.
“What’s in it?” Adrien asked.
“No clue,” Matteo said, shaking his head. “There’s a bunch of boxes in here with little metal cubes. No idea what they are, but it looks like we might have interrupted someone unpacking them when we broke into the tunnel.”
Lio approached the container and peered over Matteo’s shoulder, examining the boxes. His stomach dropped.
Matteo glanced over at him. “Do you know what they are?”
Lio nodded. “Rakk-sha grenades. They’re outlawed in almost every civilized sector of the universe.”
“What do they do?” Matteo asked.
“They’re a type of fragment grenade, but far worse than most. The shrapnel fragments are microscopic spikes coated in a type of venom that will kill almost anything that comes in contact with it.”
Matteo shuddered and took a step back from the container, but Adrien stepped closer, a hungry look in his eyes. Lio put a hand out, stopping the boy from getting any closer.
“Don’t touch them,” Lio said. “And don’t even think of stealing one to use. If you’re not trained on how to use them properly, you’ll get yourself killed.”
“Why do they have these?” Matteo asked, shaking his head. “It’s alien tech, isn’t it?”
Lio nodded. “From the planet Karrshi. One of the leading weapons developers in the Andromeda system. And if the rumors are true, one of the Ascendancy’s main suppliers.”
Matteo swallowed hard. “Sounds like that's even more proof the Wardens have gotten mixed up with the Ascendancy."
"The vents," Adrien blurted.
Lio turned to him. "The vents?"
“They might be an escape route,” Adrien said, his tone sharpening. “If you guys can shut up for two seconds and help me check."
"What vents are you talking about?" Lio asked, turning in a circle to search the room for them.
Adrien peered up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I don't see any, but they have to be here. Explosives need to be kept cool and dry, right? So they need an air system."
"There," Matteo said. He pointed to the far corner of the room, where the boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling. Behind the box at the top of the stack, Lio could see the edge of a large air vent, its slatted grate about a foot from the ceiling.
Adrien quickly clambered on top of one of the containers, moving with the grace of a wildcat. He climbed up the stack, reaching the smaller boxes near the top, and shoved them aside, exposing the grate. The small square whispered a steady stream of air through its slats, ruffling Adrien's hair as he peered into it. A man like Beck wouldn’t have had any chance of squeezing through, but Lio guessed that the three of them were all slender enough to make it.
Adrien looked down at them. “Help me get this thing open."
Lio clambered up the stack of containers, feeling clumsy in comparison to Adrien’s grace. The hyper-alertness caused by the Fragment was wearing off, leaving him feeling clumsier than ever. Matteo climbed the container after him, and they held the heavy metal grate in place while Adrien used a pocketknife to pry open the screws. As he pried out the last one, they eased the grate off, revealing the gaping entrance to the vent system.
"I've never been in the vent system," Adrien admitted. "And it's definitely not on my map."
"It's okay," Matteo said. "I know this area of the base fairly well. I think I can guide us from here.”
Adrien looked over to Lio. "Do you know where we're going?"
Yes, but also no. The pull of the Virtue was only growing stronger, and Lio could sense it somewhere tantalizingly close. Ever since he'd used the Fragment a second time, the pull had crystalized, and he could feel that the Fragment was somewhere off to his right and about half a mile away.
But he had absolutely no clue how to make his way through the base to reach the Virtue.
"I can sense where it is," he assured them. "But I'm going to need help getting there."
"I can still feel it, too," Matteo said. "And I think I have an idea of where it's at, so I'll try to guide us toward it through the vents."
A loud squawk echoed through the room. Lio jerked back in surprise. Red. He'd nearly forgotten about the injured dragon. Red had camouflaged himself to a dull grey color that matched the floor, but blood had pooled underneath his injured leg, easily giving away his location at the base of a storage container.
“He’s not going to be able to follow us anymore,” Adrien said, sounding relieved. “Not with that leg.”
Red jumped at the container, trying to climb up toward them, but his injury ruined the leap. He slammed into the edge of the container, letting out a yelp of pain as he crashed back to the ground.
Lio cursed. He surprised himself with it—he never cursed. It was crude and useless, and something only ill-behaved children did. But somehow, it actually made him feel better.
No wonder humans did it so much.
Lio swung himself off the box and began clambering back down to the floor.
"Where the hell are you going?" Adrien hissed. "We don't need the dragon!"
“He doesn't deserve to be left behind," Lio said as he landed on the ground. “He’s fought just as hard as all of us. And besides, he’s proven to be useful.”
“You’re insane,” Adrien snapped. “He’s a freaking pit beast. Leave him.”
“I'm not just going to leave him to die,” Lio insisted.
The logical portion of his brain whispered that he was being foolish, that he should listen to Adrien. The sounds of the guards outside the door had faded, but Lio had no doubt they'd come back soon and figure out a way to get inside the room. They needed to leave this place. Quickly.
But he couldn't just leave Red. They'd already lost Marin and Beck and Kaylin. He couldn't stand the thought of another member of their team dying, especially not if he had the chance to stop it.
Lio jogged over to Red, who was whimpering as he regarded the tall stack of containers. To his surprise, Matteo clambered down after him, although he was much more cautious as he approached the dragon.
“We need to get him to fly,” Lio said. “He’ll be able to get up to the vent that way.”
“Then why hasn’t he already tried it?” Matteo asked.
"I'm not entirely sure," Lio said. "But Kaylin thought he was a vater lizard, and they can only glide. So I think he probably picked up on that through her thoughts.”
Matteo cursed. “So then he doesn’t even know he's capable of flying.”
Lio shook his head. “I don’t think so. But every true dragon species I've heard of can fly. We just need to get him to try.”
Lio held a hand out to the dragon, unsure if Red was even going to let them touch him. Red snaked his neck out toward Lio, and for a single moment, he was sure the dragon would bite him. But all Red did was rub the top of his head against Lio's palm, as if asking for comfort. Lio gently scratched along Red's jaw, the same way he'd seen Kaylin do it, and the dragon's whimpering cut off. He looked up imploringly at Lio, his wide eyes silently asking for help.
Lio tapped th
e dragon's right wing. "Fly," he said, desperately hoping he might know the meaning of the word.
Red stared up at him blankly. Lio spread his arms and flapped them up and down. "Do this."
Red recoiled, snorting uncertainly as he leaned away from Lio's flailing arms. Lio cursed and rubbed at his forehead, unsure what else to do. He tried pulling at Red’s wing, but the dragon let out a warning growl and tucked his wings more tightly against him,
“We need to move,” Adrien called from above. “Leave him.”
Matteo’s lips tightened into a grim frown, and Lio waited for him to echo Adrien’s comments. But then he pulled a small, rectangular device from his pocket and edged closer to Red.
“Sorry, buddy,” Matteo said to the dragon. “But we need to get you moving.”
He flicked a button on the device, and a small flame erupted from its corner. It was a lighter, although a more primitive one than Lio was used to. Matteo leaned over, running the flame along the tip of Red’s folded wing.
The reaction was immediate. Red let out an indignant snarl and unfurled his wings, knocking the lighter out of Matteo’s hands and sending it clattering to the floor. Red hissed at Matteo and started to fold his wings again, but Matteo nimbly leaped forward, swatting at the underside of the dragon’s left wing. Red lifted both his wings, trying to avoid Matteo’s stinging hand, and a whoosh of air struck Lio.
Red stumbled, nearly knocked off balance by his own wings, but he quickly steadied himself.
“Fly,” Lio said, flapping his own arms again.
Red cocked his head, watching Lio closely for a long second. Then he hesitantly flapped his own wings. Dust swirled around the concrete floor, and the dragon gave a small snort of uncertainty as he craned his neck backwards and stared at his wings.
Lio quickly clambered back up the container, Matteo close behind him. Lio made a show of flapping his arms again, encouraging the dragon to continue the motion. Red tilted his head uncertainly and slowly backed up, until his haunches hit the door. His wings stilled, and Lio bit back a curse.
Then Red let out a loud squawk and bounded toward them. Lio held his breath, wincing as he waited for the dragon to slam helplessly against the containers. But at the last moment, Red spread his wings wide. He leaped up, frantically flapping his wings. A whoosh of air slapped Lio in the face as the dragon soared upwards, heading straight for the vent.
Fully extended, his wings were over eight feet across, and it only took Red four powerful flaps to reach the top of the stack of containers. Adrien cursed as he leaped out of the dragon’s way. Red’s paws skittered as he struggled to find purchase on the smooth metal crates, and he slammed against the wall next to the vent, letting out a yelp. But he quickly steadied himself and folded his wings tightly against his sides, turning around to look down at Lio and Matteo.
He tilted his head and let out a loud chirp, as if to ask what was taking them so long.
Matteo let out a shocked laugh, and Lio jumped in surprise. It was the loudest sound Lio had ever heard the quiet soldier make. A look of impish delight crossed Matteo’s face, and for a single moment, Lio got a glimpse of what Matteo looked like without the weight of war pressing him down.
“We did it,” he said, nodding approvingly to Lio.
“We did,” Lio agreed. He waited to feel pride, but there was only relief and numb exhaustion.
Matteo pointed up toward the vents. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
They climbed up, and Lio gritted his teeth, trying not to show the exhaustion burning in his muscles. By the time they reached the top of the containers, Red had already ducked inside the air vent, and Adrien was crouched beside the opening, ready to follow.
Matteo pulled his hand-held radio off his belt flicked it on. Voices erupted from the speakers, and Matteo tossed the radio to the floor. It skittered across it, still squawking with voices as it landed by the door.
Lio looked at him questioningly, and Matteo gave a smirk of triumph. “It’s tuned to the channel the guards at the west gate use.” He gestured to the sealed door. “The guards here aren’t going to be able to hear what’s being said, but they should still be able to hear voices.”
It took Lio a moment to understand, but when he did, he smirked. “If they hear voices in here, they’ll think we haven’t left the room.”
Matteo nodded. “And they’re going to focus all their energy on getting that door open, instead of looking for us inside their base.”
“Good thinking,” Adrien said with a nod. He pointed into the vent tunnel. “Now for the last freaking time, let’s get moving.”
33
Kaylin
Kaylin cursed as she pounded her hand against the bars of the holding cell. Blood trickled down one of her knuckles, but she could barely feel the pain. They’d been trapped in the old fashioned, metal-barred cell for over half an hour, and with each minute that ticked past, her anger spiked higher.
What the hell were they even waiting for? If the Wardens hadn’t just killed them straight away, they clearly wanted something from Kaylin and Beck. Kaylin had tried to coax info from the young guard who'd escorted them to the cell, but he’d remained stony-faced and tight-lipped.
“Come sit down,” Beck said, patting the bare concrete floor beside him. It was an invitation, not a command, and concern darkened his gaze as he stared up at her.
Kaylin froze for a long moment, her hands gripped tightly on the bars. Then she spat a sharp curse and turned her back on the cell's door, striding over to Beck. She sat next to him, and as soon as her butt touched the cold concrete, she itched to get up and start pacing again. But Beck placed his hand on her shoulder, keeping her anchored.
"Walking in circles and banging at metal isn't doing us any good," he said.
"You think I don't know that?" she muttered.
"I know you know," he said, dark amusement coloring his tone. "But since when has knowing something's bad for you kept you from doing it?"
She elbowed him lightly in the side. "Asshole.”
He nudged her back, and his tone took on that teasing note he always used when they bantered. "Idiot."
"Douchebag."
"Bitch."
"Jackass."
"Thief."
“Sheep.”
He paused at that one and raised an eyebrow. “Sheep?"
She nodded. "You'll blindly follow others. Probably would even if someone told you to go jump off a cliff."
Beck barked a sharp laugh. "Or if my little deserter friend tells me to go on a suicide mission?"
Kaylin winced and let her head drop back against the cold concrete wall. "Touché,” she muttered.
He nudged her again with his elbow. "Forget I said that. It’s not your fault. I decided to come with you because I knew you were doing the right thing, not because you forced me."
She leaned into his shoulder. "Thanks for being an idiot with me," she murmured.
He nodded. "Thanks for encouraging me to be an idiot."
She tilted her head up to look into his dark eyes. "You realize they're going to kill us, don't you?"
He shrugged a little and looked away from her. "You're not too far off with the sheep insult. If you hadn't encouraged me to go after the Virtue, I wouldn't have. I would have just gone along with the Resistance’s plans, and this entire base would be bombed, and I never would’ve forgiven myself."
Kaylin let out a defeated sigh. "But this whole base is still probably going to get bombed."
"The others still might find a way to get the Virtue,” Beck insisted. “Have some faith."
She scoffed. "I gave up on faith a long time ago."
He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Then let your dumbass sheep friend believe in it for you. They might come through."
He bit his lip, going silent, but Kaylin could sense what else he was thinking: They'll make our deaths count for something. She nodded, not wanting to disagree, even if she co
uldn’t quite believe him.
Kaylin glanced toward the door, checking for the thousandth time to see if anyone was coming. Their cell was one of three in the small room, although the other two were empty and covered in dust. Clearly, the Wardens didn’t bother with taking prisoners very often.
The door to the room remained firmly shut. She wanted to get up and start pacing, but instead she knelt in front of Beck and carefully lifted the edge of the bandage covering his wounded shoulder. The bandage was really just a torn scrap of her shirt tied around the injury, but it seemed to be doing a good enough job. What little bleeding there’d been had stopped, and she didn't see any sign of infection swelling the flesh.
"Quit poking at it," Beck said.
"Quit whining," she shot back, but she gently let go of the bandage, letting it cover the wound again. Beck winced, which was a relief to see. She'd seen him severely injured before, and he always fell into an eerily silent, blank-faced state as he desperately tried to hide his pain. If he was whining and grimacing, then she knew he wasn't that bad off.
She settled back beside him, sitting on his uninjured side so she could scoot close to him.
"Beck?" she said quietly.
He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.
"I missed you," she said. "I just... I want you to know that. There aren't a whole lot of things I miss about the Resistance, but you're one of them. Always have been."
He gave a faint, wistful smile. "I missed you, too, Kay. The past two years have been pretty unbearable without you around to insult me."
She gave a strained smile and leaned into him, closing her eyes. "Never change, Beck," she said softly. "You're one of the only good people I know."
He sighed and gently ran his hand through her hair. "I was about to say the same about you."