Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  Bare feet on the cool metal, Ren sat on his bed and listened to Asher puttering around the bathroom on the other side of the door.

  Since his capture, Ren had spent most of his time with Asher. They had shared the dungeon. They had shared a hollowed-out log. They had shared a room on a ship. And now, even though Asher was only a door away, Ren felt bereft. Asher was his constant. Asher’s voice drew him back from the haze created by using his power. Now they were in Asher’s world, and Ren was apprehensive of the coming changes.

  Ren lay down on his bed and tapped his fingers against the covers. He stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He must’ve fallen into a light doze, because what seemed like a few moments later, there was a knock.

  He roused. “Come in.”

  Asher stepped through the door of their adjoining washroom. And Ren sat up straight.

  Holding out his arms, Asher spun around, smiling. He wore his Phoenix Corps uniform, the black crisp pants, the black jacket with thick red lines that followed the line of his shoulders and down his arms. The stylized phoenix rising from the ashes, the same as Asher’s tattoo, sat on his upper right arm. However, the biggest difference was that Asher had shorn his blond locks into a military cut.

  “What do you think?” Asher said, clicking the heels of his black boots. “I clean up nice.”

  Ren shook his head. “You drifters are so arrogant.”

  “Oh, come on, you have to admit I look better than I did at the citadel. And I smell at least fifty percent better.”

  “You couldn’t have looked or smelled much worse.”

  Asher rolled his eyes. He crossed the room, sat next to Ren on his bed and gave him a hard shove.

  “I didn’t know what I expected from an idiot duster.”

  Ren returned the shove while his heart fluttered. “You can take the boy off the planet, but you can’t take the planet out of the boy.”

  “How are you holding up?” Asher asked. “I know this is all different for you. Are you okay? How’s the…” he trailed off and wiggled his fingers, “star power feeling?”

  “Under control,” Ren said, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to blow anything up.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” Ren said on a sigh. “I miss my home, but know I can’t go there. This is as good a place as any.”

  Asher patted Ren’s shoulder. “Think of this ship as your second home. I want you to.”

  Warmth suffused Ren at Asher’s kindness. “Okay then. Does that mean I get to eat whatever and whenever I want?”

  Asher threw his head back and laughed. He ruffled Ren’s hair, making it stand on end. “Sure. If you ask Penelope first, she might even make food for you. She’s notoriously soft-hearted.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.”

  Ren’s comm crackled, breaking into their easy conversation. Rowan’s voice was clouded with static, but comprehensible.

  “Ash, are you there?”

  Asher stood and crossed the room. He hit the button. “Yes.”

  “I have Mother on the line. She’s excited to talk with you. Get up here.”

  “Be there in a minute.”

  “Hurry up before she starts crying.”

  Asher’s face broke into a large grin; incandescent with happiness, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Mother, cry? Now I know you’re joking.”

  “Ash, on the bridge, please.”

  “All right. Stop nagging. Ren and I will be up in a meteor flash.”

  Ren couldn’t begrudge his friend his happiness, but he felt a tug of regret deep in his own gut. He wanted to speak to his own mother. He wanted to ask her why she had never told him what he was and how she knew. Was it connected to his father? He wanted to talk to Liam, tell him about everything he’d seen—the space dock, the drifts, the ships, the stars. Stars, he’d even settle for talking to his stepfather, who was terse on a good day. He only wanted to know they were okay. But at least, if Sorcha made it back, she’d tell them Ren was alive.

  “Come on,” Asher said, waving Ren forward. “I want you to meet my mom.”

  * * *

  When they arrived, they found the bridge empty save for Rowan and an image of Councilor Morgan on the large screen.

  Asher and Rowan favored their mother. She had the same blonde hair, the same sparkling green eyes and the same wide smile. She didn’t cry when she saw Asher, but it was a near thing; her eyes shone with unshed tears. She praised her son’s bravery and thanked her daughter for ensuring Asher’s safety, while Rowan and Asher stood ramrod straight in her presence.

  Ren was obviously missing something about their relationship. Asher had said his mother was angry about him joining the Phoenix Corps, and he had mentioned his sister acquiring her own merchant ship at an early age.

  Whatever caused the strain, Asher and Rowan could not deny that Councilor Morgan was their mother. They shared most of her features, including their arrogance.

  “You don’t know how happy I am to see you alive, my love,” she told Asher, hand over her heart. “How did you escape?”

  “My friend, Ren,” Asher said. “He helped me.”

  When her gaze focused on him from the large screen at the front of the ship, Ren waved shyly.

  “Aren’t you sweet? Thank you for returning my son to me. I can’t believe he was imprisoned by that horrible tyrant for over a year. But you look well, love, if a bit gaunt.”

  Asher straightened his shoulders. “About the tyrant, Mother. He’s dangerous. You must send a Phoenix Corps regiment down to Erden and take care of the situation immediately.”

  “Asher, if we learned anything from your capture it is to not interfere with planet-side squabbles. The Corps was created to protect the Drift Alliance, not to meddle in every border dispute.”

  Ren stepped forward, hands clenched by his sides. “They’re stealing children from their homes and forcing them to work and to serve in the Baron’s army. How can you not interfere?”

  Councilor Morgan looked down her nose at Ren. “As horrible as it is, it’s not the Drift Alliance’s concern. Unless his actions adversely affect a drift, we will not interfere.”

  Asher put out an arm and stopped Ren from approaching the screen.

  “He has ships, Mother,” Asher said, calmly. “Ren saw them. He is planning something.”

  She arched a manicured eyebrow. “How many?”

  “I saw at least five. There may be more.”

  The corner of her lip curled up. “Five?” she said, her tone mocking. “Five ships against the drifts? Surely you don’t believe he has any chance against us if he were foolish enough to attack.”

  “He also has technopaths,” Asher said. “We don’t know how many. At least one. And he’s planning to use them.”

  “His General said he’d be expanding to the drifts. He believes he has a destiny,” Ren added.

  Her laugh was delicate and condescending, and Ren bristled. “Technopaths? Star hosts? They’re duster myths. Stories created to explain concepts they don’t understand.”

  “I can assure you,” Asher said, arm like iron clamped around Ren, “they’re not. Mother, the things I’ve seen…”

  “Sweetheart,” she said, pursing her lips. “You and your friend have had a harrowing experience. You’ve obviously been underfed. You were threatened. You were separated from everything you know. Of course you saw things, but they weren’t real. Do you honestly believe there are people who merged with machines and broke the sky?”

  “But, Mother—”

  “We’ll discuss it further when you arrive. Get some rest. Eat something. I’ll reimburse your sister’s credits and send extra. I look forward to seeing you both when you arrive at Mykonos. Safe travels.”

  “Thank you.” Ash
er gave her a short bow, and the transmission blipped out.

  Ren brimmed with anger. He turned on his heel and stalked off the bridge.

  “Ren!” Asher called, following him. “Ren, stop for a minute.”

  Ren kept walking. He’d known there was a divide between dusters and drifters and spacers, but he never imagined it went this deep. His village, his planet, his family were in danger, and Councilor Morgan brushed him off, as if he were dirt and not made of stardust.

  “Ren, stop, please. I know it’s not the reaction we wanted.”

  Ren spun. He pointed a finger hard into Asher’s chest. “Not what we wanted? She said I didn’t exist. Or did you miss that part?”

  Asher sighed, shoulders drooping. He placed his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling. “Ren, we’ll figure something else out. I’ll go to the Corps directly.”

  “Oh, so they can tell you it’s all duster nonsense.”

  “I know you’re upset.”

  “Understatement,” Ren deadpanned.

  “Fine. But my own mother basically said the entire year I spent as prisoner was a hallucination. So, you know, you’re not the only one pissed off here.”

  “Oh, poor you,” Ren shot back. “At least you have your family. At least your mother knows you’re alive. I was taken from my home. I watched my friend die. I was almost manipulated into being a weapon. And the one hope I had in helping my planet has blown away like dust because of your drifter arrogance.”

  Asher’s eyes narrowed. “My drifter arrogance? I think you’re forgetting I’m on your team. Or was it someone else who managed to get us off the planet?”

  Ren blinked and the world went blue. Static filled his ears. “You were content,” Ren spat. “Content to sit in the cell and wait and serve your purpose until I showed up. You didn’t care about my village, my friends, or any of it until you realized the drifts were in danger as well. So don’t”—he swallowed the hot lump in his throat—“don’t pretend you give a damn about me.”

  Asher looked stricken. He moved to reach out, but stopped and curled his fingers back into his palm. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

  And Ren couldn’t look at the undeniable hurt written in his expression. The blue in Ren’s vision faded. He turned on his heel and went to his quarters with his hands shaking the entire way.

  * * *

  A few hours later, someone knocked on Ren’s door. He sat up from his sprawl on the bunk and closed the book he had found in the stranger’s suitcase.

  “It’s open.”

  The door creaked inward and Asher stood sheepishly on the other side. “May I come in?”

  Ren set the book aside. “Sure,” he said, subdued.

  Asher walked into the room and sat in the chair opposite the bed.

  “Rowan has a job to finish before we can go to Mykonos. She has cargo to run to Delphi and is already behind due to collecting us here at Nineveh.”

  “That’s fine. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be,” Ren said.

  Asher rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Ren. But what do you want me to do? If we go back to Erden, you’ll be caught. You’re safer here. You know that, right?”

  Ren did know, but knowledge didn’t erase the worry and disappointment. “I can’t abandon my family.”

  “And I don’t want you to,” Asher said, moving across the room and settling next to Ren on the bed. “Look, we’ll finish Rowan’s run, go to Mykonos and show my mother what you can do. If she sees you, she’ll have to believe. And if she doesn’t, then you and I will do something. I promise.”

  Ren wilted. “All right. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Thanks.”

  Asher knocked his shoulder. “Penelope is making dinner. I hear it’s going to be fantastic.”

  Ren smiled. “Is food all you think about?”

  “It’s very high on my list these days.” Asher locked an arm around Ren’s neck and pulled him into a half-hug. “Come on. We better get there before Ollie. He eats everything.” He rubbed Ren’s hair and let go. He stood and strode to the door. “Coming?”

  Ren pressed his hair back down and stared at Asher, incredulous.

  Asher raised his eyebrows, imperious. “Well?”

  “Fine. But it better be fantastic.”

  Asher laughed.

  9

  Ren soon learned where the stereotype that spacers were nuts came from. Space was… boring.

  Ren met Lucas, the pilot and navigator, and Ollie, the procurer. Ren didn’t quite understand Ollie’s role, other than as Penelope’s brother, but apparently he had connections. Both were nice, if a little intimidating. Lucas was incredibly smart. Thin and willowy, Lucas wore goggles atop his light brown hair for no discernible reason, and no one mentioned why. He liked to talk about navigation and old holovids, and he could do so for hours. Ren understood how Lucas and Penelope had gravitated to each other. Ollie, on the other hand, was quiet. He was so tall he had to duck to maneuver around the ship. His muscles had muscles, and Ollie and Asher spent time in the hold working out together, betting who could do more pushups. Ollie always won.

  Ren didn’t steer clear of Ollie and Lucas, but he preferred to interact with Asher or Penelope. He didn’t feel uneducated or pathetically small around them.

  Over the next week, Ren developed a routine. Every morning he’d wake at the same time. He’d wash, get dressed and then walk to the kitchen and have a cup of tea and jam on toast. Asher was usually there, and they’d banter back and forth before Asher went to do whatever it was he did. Ren would meander down to the engine housing. He’d press his fingers against the casing, take a quick look around and make sure everything was running optimally. If it wasn’t, he’d fix it with a tug or a push or whatever was needed.

  Following Rowan’s instructions and his own instincts, Ren didn’t broadcast what he was. Asher knew. Rowan knew. For Ren, that was enough. He didn’t lie, but Penelope never asked and Ren didn’t offer. When he talked with Penelope, while idly swinging in the hammock that was strung across the corner of the supply room, it was usually about his village. She’d never been to a planet and found Ren’s stories of lakes and forests and dirt as fascinating as he found her stories of drifts and ships and stars.

  When she wasn’t available, Ren would read the book he’d found or a technical journal Penelope kept on hand. Or he would go to the bridge, sprawl in the captain’s chair if Rowan wasn’t there, and stare out of the view screen, marveling that he was finally in space. Sometimes, he’d assist Ollie and Lucas with small tasks or nap before heading back to the common area to meet with Asher and play a board game.

  Ren drank tea and Asher guzzled coffee, and they both complained about Ollie’s socks since he had taken to walking around without shoes. They bickered over whether to play the games with regular rules or with ones they made up. Asher always preferred the former while Ren preferred the latter, but it didn’t really matter since Asher always obliterated him anyway.

  “You really have no concept of strategy,” Asher said, as they played chess. He knocked over Ren’s knight with an unnecessary flourish. “But I wager you probably don’t need it where you’re from.”

  Ren scowled as he looked down at the board. “A common drifter misconception about us dusters, but you’re partially right. I’m much better at being sneaky,” he said as he moved his pawn and took Asher’s bishop.

  Ren grinned widely at Asher’s surprised noise.

  “Sneaky as you may be,” Asher said while gazing at the pieces, “you still have no head for strategy.” He moved his queen down the board. “Checkmate.”

  Ren frowned and reset the game. “Obviously, I need more practice.”

  At such times, Penelope would inevitably wander in and give them both a fond smile. Then Ren would assist her with maki
ng dinner while Asher shouted directions from the sofa.

  Sometimes, instead, they would go to the cargo bay and Ren would watch as Rowan, Lucas, Ollie and Asher played a spacer ball game and Asher tried to enforce the invented rules.

  “Ollie! The crates are clearly out of bounds,” Asher said one day, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

  “Aw, come on, Ash. It was a great play!” Ollie protested.

  “Because everyone else knew you were out of bounds so no one guarded you.”

  Ollie pouted. “Fine. But next time, I get to make the rules.”

  Asher placed his hands on his hips, dramatically rolled his eyes and breathed hard, while sweat dampened the collar of his shirt and under his arms.

  “You two are ridiculous. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Rowan said, picking up the ball where it lay forgotten in a corner.

  Inevitably, someone would trip and there would be an injury time-out and the game would devolve into kicking a ball at each other as hard as they could.

  Ren stayed away from the athletics, but he always cheered for Asher, and Asher, sweaty and smiling, would raise his gaze to Ren on the gangplank and make faces.

  Yes, Ren could understand why spacers were known for being a little odd, but he also knew this life of routine and easy friendship and nights spent sprawled on the couch with Asher, both of them laughing over stories told by the rest of the crew, was by far the best time of his life. These nights Ren would cherish forever. His worry over being forgotten by Asher once he was in this new place had been totally unfounded, as they were inseparable.

  Their closeness didn’t go unnoticed.

  One night, Ren cleaned up the latest board game, in which he and Asher had teamed against Lucas to wipe him off the board before turning on each other. Everyone else had turned in, leaving only Ren and Rowan.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as Ren packed away the pieces.

  Ren shrugged. “Cleaning up a game is easy enough.”

  She reached out, her fingers encircling his wrist. He paused, startled, dropping a piece back on the table.