Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

It wasn’t that Ren didn’t think he could fix the array. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the bridge was filled with expectant people, waiting for Ren to work. Cass was there, as well as a man about her age and two other men who shared Cass’s features—her sons.

  Asher shuffled closer to his side and dipped his head. “Make sure to close your eyes.”

  Ren had never been on the bridge of a ship. And he took a moment to take it in, noted the position of the captain’s chair, the screen displaying information, the large window across the front, showing the landscape surrounding the dock. There was an open panel under a console, and Ren hoped it was where he was supposed to work.

  “This is my husband, Cyril,” Cass said. “And my boys, Malachi and Zeke. They have some cargo to move, but I wanted you to meet them in case you saw them on the ship.”

  Ren waved awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Zeke here opened up the panel for you so you can get to work. You’re cutting it awful close.”

  “He’ll be fine.” Asher clasped Ren’s shoulder and gave him a little shove toward the console. “He’s a fast worker.”

  “He better be, or you’ll both be staying on this dusty planet,” Cass said.

  Malachi cracked his knuckles. The sons both stared at Asher, and Zeke brushed Asher’s shoulder as they walked past. Asher stumbled back as fatigue got the best of him.

  Ren swallowed hard. “Well, then, I better get to it.”

  Ren casually walked over to the panel. He squatted and studied the mass of wires, circuits and switches and had no clue what to do with any of them. The gazes of Cass and Cyril burned into the back of his neck, and sweat prickled along his hairline.

  He looked over his shoulder at Asher. Asher gave him an affirming nod, and that was enough for Ren.

  He scooted closer, making sure his back was to Cass and Cyril.

  “Can you tell me what the problem was again?” he asked.

  “It shorts out on long hauls,” Cyril said, his voice deep. “We pulled into Erden blind.”

  “Ah, sounds like an overheating issue.” Ren had experienced that with the prods at the castle. If they were turned on continuously, they would burn out. This sounded much the same. “I just need to find the source of the energy surge. You might have a broken breaker.”

  Ren did his best to sound confident. He hoped it worked. Remembering Asher’s warning to keep his eyes closed, he splayed his fingers and moved to press them into the circuits.

  “Don’t you want some tools?” Cass asked.

  Ren stopped short. “Uh… no?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No,” Ren amended. “No, I think I can handle the problem.”

  Before they could ask another question, Ren plunged his hand into the workings. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the stopper from the dam. His power gushed out, eager and potent, and suddenly Ren’s consciousness was surfing along the circuits, rushing through the sensor array. He found the problem easily. It was as he expected and, without much thought, he diverted the power around the broken areas, rerouted it and, while he was in there, increased efficiency.

  But why stop there?

  Ren floated through the systems. He found a hiccup in the air recyclers and, with a push and a flick, he soothed the problem. He flitted to the connection the ship had with the dock, scrolled through the information Cass and her family had downloaded and halted when he found the warrants for him and Asher. He read them, internally balking at being labeled dangerous. There was no mention of his ability, though, and Ren was certain Abiathar wanted to keep that information close to his chest. Most people thought that technopaths were mythical beings, and he wouldn’t want to advertise that one existed.

  The pictures attached to the warrant were a drawing of Ren and a digital capture of Asher from the videos sent to his mother. Ren checked the time stamp. It had been downloaded only an hour ago, when Asher and Ren were sleeping.

  They were in danger.

  With effort, Ren pulled out of the system; he came back to his body in a surge. He stood and blinked until the room was no longer tinted blue.

  He turned and forced a smile. “Try it now.”

  Cyril was clearly dubious when he accessed the sensor array using the touch panel, but the tilt of his head and the twitch of his mouth told Ren he appreciated what he saw.

  “Huh?” he said. “Looks good.”

  “Excellent,” Asher said, clapping his hands. “So we have a deal then?”

  Ren moved across the bridge, stood closer to Asher than was appropriate and bit his lip as Cass watched them, her hands on her hips. “Yes. We’ll take you on to Nineveh.”

  “Great! Now, if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long day and would like to get more rest,” Ren said, tugging Asher toward the exit.

  Cass narrowed her eyes. “That’s fine. We shove off in about an hour. We’ll have a meal at six ship’s time.”

  Ren’s stomach cramped with the thought of food, but he ignored it. “Thanks. Until then.”

  And he pulled Asher through the door.

  They walked briskly down the hallway. Ren didn’t release Asher’s sleeve until they were safely in their room.

  He took a deep breath. “They know,” he said simply. “Or someone knows. I don’t know which one.”

  Asher drooped. He sat on the bed and rubbed a hand over his face. His posture screamed exhaustion, and the latest information seemed to have drained the last of Asher’s energy reserves.

  “How?” he said, sounding defeated.

  “Someone downloaded our warrants from the dock about an hour ago.”

  “Cogs.” Asher slumped forward. “I don’t know what to do, Ren. We can’t stay at the dock, but if we stay here, they could turn us in.”

  “I know.” He sat down next to Asher, determined to make the decision. Asher had been stalwart since they escaped, pushing Ren to the next step, taking care of him, making all the tough calls, and it was time for Ren to lift the burden. “I’ll send a message to your sister through their comm system. I can do it right now, just tell me what to say.”

  “And then what? Even if we send a message, it won’t save us when the Baron’s soldiers come knocking on the door.”

  “No, it won’t. But I can use the video feed and monitor the dock. If I see them coming, I’ll take the ship.”

  Asher blinked. “I think I am hallucinating now. Did you say you’d take the ship?”

  Ren puffed out his chest. “I can do it. I have access to everything, air locks, door locks, ventilation, artificial gravity, just by pressing my fingers to the hull. Now we’re here, we’ll be safe. I’ll make us safe.”

  “And what about you? Do you remember how exhausted you were last time you merged with a ship? And that was when you had had a full night’s sleep. Or what about the personality transplant you had last time when you overdid it? You don’t think I remember when my friend dissociated?”

  “Acceptable risks,” Ren said, firmly. “We have to get off this planet, and you’ve kept me safe thus far. Now, it’s my turn.”

  Asher wilted. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re too stubborn and I’m too tired.”

  “Good. Now, what do you want to tell your sister?”

  Asher drafted a quick message and made sure to include an inside joke so she would know it was him. And with a touch of his fingers to the floor, Ren flickered into the comm system and wrote the message. He sent it out with a pulse, and he felt the information race out in a wave, hunting for Rowan Morgan, captain of the Star Stream.

  Ren didn’t disconnect. Instead he folded down to the floor and leaned against the bed while he monitored the dock camera feed. It was odd, seeing the entrance to the ship from a different angle, watching Malachi and Zeke work as they loaded cargo and observing the individuals who walked by.
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br />   He saw soldiers, but they didn’t stop, didn’t even glance the Nomad’s way, and Ren breathed a huge sigh of relief when the doors to the bay closed. A few minutes later, he heard a knock on their door.

  Ren pulled out of the systems to find Asher asleep. He ached to sleep too, but he didn’t dare, not until they left atmo. He stood, blinked away the blue hue and opened the door.

  Cass stood on the other side.

  “Can we talk?”

  Ren leaned against the door. He blocked Cass’s view of Asher and nodded.

  “I know who you are.”

  “I know.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

  “Why didn’t you turn us in?”

  “Because I don’t believe the people who want you have good intentions. And I have a feeling I would have been in more trouble if I had.”

  “Your feeling was right.”

  “I thought so,” she said with a nod. “My husband and children don’t know. I expect you two to be model citizens while you are on board. I don’t want to think I’ve made a mistake.”

  “We’ll stay out of your way.”

  Cass turned to go but hesitated. “You’re special, aren’t you? Are you as powerful as I think you are?”

  Ren didn’t see any reason to lie, but he hardly knew the truth himself. “I don’t know.”

  “But you could kill us, if you wanted to. Right now.”

  “Yes,” Ren said. A hollow feeling took up residence in his chest at that answer, but he could. It would be easy. And they’d have no way to stop him. Maybe he really was dangerous.

  “You won’t, though.” She said it with such certainty, Ren was surprised.

  It wasn’t a question, and Ren knew what Cass saw when she looked at him—a frightened, bedraggled teenager far from home, not a mythical star host.

  “Not unless I have a reason.”

  “Let’s hope one doesn’t come up.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Ren closed the door. He locked it from the inside and delved into the mechanism to ensure he and Asher would sleep safely.

  Asher lay sacked out, slumped awkwardly on the bed. Ren shook his shoulder gently and Asher rolled to the side, curling up, leaving a sliver of the mattress open. Ren kicked off his boots, took the blanket from the end of the bed and lay down along the line of Asher’s back. He draped the blanket over them and fell into a deep sleep.

  8

  The trip to Nineveh took several days. Ren slept for most of it, sometimes in the bed with Asher, other times on his own. He woke to eat with Cass’s family at the appointed times, then went back to sleep.

  The first time they sat at the table and Malachi set a plate in front of him, filled with meat and vegetables, Ren dove in ferociously. He didn’t breathe, but shoved food into his mouth with his fingers and licked them clean. Asher was more restrained, but barely. Cass watched them with wide eyes, and offered them seconds with a tight smile. Ren got so full, he almost vomited.

  Because of the extra rest, Ren’s power lay dormant, and Ren didn’t think he would explode by being on the ship. However, he kept his hands away from the hull and ensured there was a layer of fabric between his touch and Asher’s skin lest he hurt Asher’s already sore shoulder.

  When Ren was awake, he vacillated between excitement and guilt. Being on the ship was everything he had dreamed of, and despite the need to be careful with his power, Ren brimmed with exhilaration every time he walked the halls of the vessel. He and Asher were not allowed on the bridge, and as Asher advised, stuck only to their room and the mess to keep from garnering any unwanted attention from Cyril and the brothers. But Ren took every opportunity to appreciate the engineering that had gone into the Nomad and its systems—the metal and circuits that navigated the cluster, produced the ship’s own gravity and protected the crew from the vacuum of space. There were no windows in the areas Asher and Ren frequented, but Ren could sense the vast, unending blanket of stars beyond the walls. It amazed and terrified him in equal measure.

  Yet, much as he marveled at being where he had once wanted to be, Ren was not the same boy who’d lain on a beach and looked to the stars for his future. That naïve duster was gone, and in his place was the person who looked back at Ren from the grimy mirror above the sink. His hair was much longer, shaggy, brown and falling across his forehead, almost into his eyes. He was paler, gaunt; his brown eyes were filled with fear and remorse, not with the excitement that should accompany his first time on a ship. This boy had experienced grief and terror and guilt, emotions beyond the radar of the person Ren had been. However, despite everything that had happened and despite all the odds, Ren was on a ship heading for a drift, and that fact gave him hope.

  Ren splashed water on his face and wiped the excess away with the end of his sleeve.

  He turned to find Asher sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, staring hard at the communications console in the wall.

  While Ren used their trip to sleep and recover, Asher waited for word from his sister. The fourth day into their route, and with their arrival imminent, he still had heard nothing.

  Ren crossed the room, and climbed into the bunk. “Anything?”

  Asher shook his head, his expression drawn. “Nothing yet.”

  “She’ll respond.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Have a little faith,” Ren said, with a small smile. “We escaped a citadel, traveled across the countryside and found a ship headed to a drift. She’ll respond.”

  Asher grinned. “Using my own words against me. I see how you work.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  Sighing, Asher stretched his legs out. “She better respond, or we’re going to owe Cass more than a fixed sensor array.”

  “I could fix everything,” Ren said, flexing his fingers in front of him. “It’d be worth the credits. She already knows what I am.”

  Ren had told Asher about the conversation with Cass, but only after they had crested the horizon into space and both had rested. Asher had been less than pleased.

  He was still irritated, if the huff and the narrowing of his eyes were any indication. “You’re too careless. We’re lucky Cass was more interested in having her ship fixed than in turning you in.”

  Ren leaned back on his elbows and bit back a yawn. “Faith, Ash. It applies to people too. She and her family are good people, if a little rough around the edges.”

  “That’s spacers for you,” Asher said. “Still, we need to be more careful. The Baron isn’t the only person interested in star hosts. There are people who would do more than place a reward on your head. They’d leave a trail of bodies in their wake to get their hands on you.”

  “You make it sound like I’m a valuable commodity.”

  “You are. Imagine having, in your control, an individual who can manipulate any machine in the universe.”

  “Huh,” Ren said, flopping back on the mattress. “Try being that individual.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I feel like too.”

  Asher sighed. “Just think, in a few hours, we’ll be on a drift. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

  “Subtle change of subject.”

  “I’m serious,” Asher said. He stretched out on the floor. Ren tossed him the pillow, and Asher shoved it under his head. “Granted, Nineveh isn’t the biggest drift by any means, but it’s nice, if I remember correctly. I’ll show you the amazing sights.”

  “Sounds like a plan. That is, if we have the credits.”

  Groaning, Asher rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

  * * *

  Several hours later, the Nomad docked at Nineveh. Ren and Asher stood in the cargo hold with Cass and her family.

  “We’re here,” Cass said. “I expect my credits now
.”

  Ren fidgeted, but Asher answered for them, confident and terse. “You’ll have them. But I will need to leave to get them.”

  “Well, then you won’t mind if your little friend stays with us until you come back.”

  Asher reached beside him and grabbed Ren’s wrist, fingers encircling the joint over the sleeve of Ren’s shirt.

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving without him.”

  “And you’re crazy if you think I am going to let both of you leave.”

  Asher’s grip tightened. Ren moved closer. He was about to offer to fix anything they wanted and maybe mention the glitch in their aft airlock, but a loud buzzer rang out, echoing in the large space.

  Malachi moved to check the outer door.

  “There’s a woman out there,” he said, simply.

  Cass didn’t move her eyes from them, but she addressed her son. “Open the door.”

  The bay doors creaked open slowly, and Ren’s gaze flickered between the standoff with Cass and the sliver of widening light as the doors parted. His pulse raced. Everything he dreamed of lay on the other side of those doors. He sucked in a breath when they revealed the drift. And in the spectacle beyond—the flashing signs, the bustle of diverse individuals, the general chaos—the woman stood out. She had her arms crossed; the toe of her black boot tapped on the shiny deck plate. Her long golden hair draped over her shoulder in a braid that tickled her waist. Strapped to her hip was a holster with a pulse gun in it, and the flat expression on her face told Ren she was as dangerous as the weapon implied.

  She was beautiful and, like Asher, she reminded him of the stories his mother had told him of angels from the sky.

  “Rowan?” Asher breathed.

  She dropped her arms and utter relief flickered over her features. She stepped forward, mouth parted, Asher’s name on her lips.

  Asher dropped Ren’s hand. The woman and Asher crashed together and wrapped their arms around each other. Her hand clasped the back of Asher’s neck and she held on, and Asher buried his face in her hair, though he had to bend over to do so.

  “You’re here.”