by F. T. Lukens
He had practiced this each day with a different system since Delphi Drift in an effort to gain control. The more he practiced, the better he became at untangling his consciousness from the ship. Despite his ever-strengthening skill, Nadie’s words hovered in his thoughts. He wouldn’t be responsible for Asher’s death, and he wasn’t going to fall under Abiathar’s influence. He wasn’t, if he could help it. And he clung to Asher’s promise.
He heard a crackle and Rowan’s voice.
“Asher, come to the bridge. Now.”
Ren had never heard that particular inflection from Rowan. She sounded almost panicked, which was unusual. Rowan was unflappable.
“What do you want?” Asher responded in a whine. “I was napping.”
“Get. Up. Here. Now.”
Ren pulled out of the Star Stream and blinked to clear the blue from his vision. He hopped to his feet and was out of his door in seconds, on his way to the bridge. He arrived at the same time as Asher.
Asher gave him an odd look.
Ren shrugged. “I heard on the comm.”
“Ah, playing around in the systems again.”
“Learning. Practicing. It couldn’t hurt.”
Rowan stood up from the captain’s chair when they ascended the short stairway to the bridge. Lucas sat at the controls, forearms straining as he attempted to maneuver through a debris field. He wasn’t perfect; the debris was widespread and dense, and while he could navigate around the larger pieces, the smaller ones banged against the hull.
Asher squinted and leaned forward. “What is that?”
“That’s why I called you up here.” Rowan cast a glance at Ren, her eyebrow quirking up. “Were you two napping together?”
“Huh?”
Ren flushed. “No. Why? What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Sure,” Rowan said, smirking.
“Anyway, why did you interrupt my nap over debris?”
Rowan’s smirk disappeared. She turned to look at the vid screen. “Because we’re on a certified trade route, patrolled by the Corps. There shouldn’t be any debris.”
Lucas had a white-knuckled grip on the controls as he wove through the field. “Maybe it was a cargo dump.”
Ren walked to the front of the bridge and looked out into the myriad of stars and the bits and pieces of metal that floated by. “Why would someone drop their cargo?”
“Maybe it was illegal. Or maybe they needed to lighten their load,” Lucas said with a tense shrug. “It’s not unheard of.”
“But it is unusual,” Rowan said.
Ren studied a scrap that floated by, and suddenly his heart jumped into his throat. “This isn’t cargo,” Ren whispered. He pointed to a piece, his hand trembling. “That’s part of an engine.” He quickly pointed to another. “That’s a sensor array.”
Asher came to stand by Ren’s shoulder. “You sure?”
“I’ve been studying. I’m certain.”
“It’s a ship,” Rowan breathed. “Stars, it’s a ship.”
As if to confirm this, a large piece of hull drifted past. Using the vid screen, her fingers tapping quickly on the console, Rowan zoomed in. Scorch marks adorned the metal, but the identification numbers were unmistakable to Ren. He knew the sequence. He knew them because he had been inside the ship’s systems and its identity was forever part of him.
The Nomad.
The conversation around Ren fuzzed out. He distantly heard Lucas asking how a ship could blow up on a protected trade route, and Rowan’s answer.
“Any number of reasons,” Ren heard her say. “A spark in a fuel cell. A loss of pressurization. A sudden impact of some sort. Maybe with an asteroid?”
“Or a weapon,” Asher said.
“We don’t know that,” Rowan said. She tugged sharply on her braid. “Those scorch marks could be from a tough reentry or a collision in atmo. We don’t know it was an attack.”
“Yes, we do.” Ren ran a hand over his face, remembering how Cass had taken him and Asher in despite their appearance and their lack of funds. Sure, she tried to hold Ren for ransom, but she was only trying to make her way in an unforgiving world and ensure her family’s future. Ren understood that. And for her kindness, or greed, her family was gone. “It’s the ship that brought me and Asher to Nineveh. It’s the Nomad.”
“Are you certain?” Rowan asked. Her fingers flew across the screen, looking up the hull numbers. She brought the information up on the vid screen, and sure enough, the demographics matched—Cassidy Franklin, captain of the Nomad, departed from Nineveh thirty-one days ago.
Ren looked to Asher and met his concerned gaze. “He’s looking for me. He’s going to find me.”
“Ren,” Asher started, voice low and soft.
But Ren shook his head. “No. It’s my fault. This is a message. Either Abiathar was looking for us and realized we weren’t on their ship, or he knew we’d already joined Rowan and would pass this way. No matter the situation, you are in danger. My presence is putting you in danger.”
“Lucas,” Rowan commanded, settling back in her chair, “get us out of here. Ash, alert the Corps. Let them know what we’ve found.”
“I will.” Asher turned to go.
Ren twisted his fingers. The weight of implications settled hard on his shoulders. Abiathar was still looking, and now he had the ability to maneuver in the trade routes. One or more of the military vessels Ren was supposed to assist in repairing were now out there, trying to track them down. “To what end?” he asked in a biting, sharp tone. “The Corps won’t listen. There is no perceived threat. Your mother said so herself.”
“Maybe not from some duster Baron, but a ship exploded. They’ll have to investigate.”
“A ship was attacked,” Ren snapped. “A ship we were on a month ago. It’s not a coincidence.”
“I know,” Asher said. “Okay? I realize what this means.”
“Could you tell me, because I’m completely in the dark,” Lucas said. He eased the ship around another large section of the Nomad.
Ren’s stomach churned.
“They’re being ridiculous, Lucas.” Rowan stood, agitated, and addressed the two of them. “You believe this Baron is after you because of Ren’s powers? Are you serious? I’m sure he has infinitely better things to do than chase a teenager across the cluster.”
“It’s more than that,” Ren said. “He wants to use what I can do to take over the drifts. The ships are functional. He’s out here. Even if he doesn’t find me, there are others.”
“And what will they do? Do you honestly think they will be able to get through the Corps?”
“Yes,” Asher answered flatly. “Yes. You’re underestimating them.”
“And you’re overestimating the power of a Baron and a General from Erden—the most backward planet in the damn cluster!”
Ren prickled. “We’re not backward.”
“Oh, save me from idiot dusters.”
“You—” Ren started, pointing a finger at Rowan. A sudden surge of power crackled along his limbs and he could see the blue film edging into the corners of his vision.
“Ren,” Asher said. “Calm down. It’s okay.”
“Yes, Ren. Take a breath. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”
Ren pressed the tips of his fingers to his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the way the Star Stream called to him. He opened his eyes, and though he felt calmer, the ship buzzed in his head. He could feel it in his joints, humming through his veins.
“I’m fine,” he gritted out.
Asher bumped his arm. “You’re not.”
“Guys,” Lucas said calmly. “Guys. Sorry to interrupt here, but we have a problem.”
“What now?” Rowan sighed.
“Three ships incoming. Fast. One in front and two on our flank.”
“Argument t
abled until further notice.” Rowan tossed her braid over her shoulder and jumped into her seat. “Can we outrun them?”
“Doubtful. They’re trekking. If we tried, we wouldn’t get far.”
“Best stay, then. Make it look like we’re either brave or stupid.” Rowan hit the comm. “Penelope and Ollie. Get up to the bridge. We have a situation.” She quickly tapped on the console to her right, bringing up the specs on the ships.
Ren recognized them, just as he did the Nomad. He’d connected with one of them when working for Janus and the others had called to him while he was in the hangar bay on Erden.
“No signatures,” Rowan said. “Unregistered. That’s one violation of the Trade Laws.”
“Blowing up ships would be another,” Asher said. He moved to stand at Rowan’s elbow.
Ren slunk to the back of the bridge and hid near the shadows.
“Who’s blowing stuff up?” Ollie asked, ducking through the entrance to the bridge. Penelope followed on his heels.
“Hopefully no one. We’ll see, though. Pen, take over the communications console. Ollie, stand beside me and look intimidating.”
“Sure thing,” Penelope said, moving to the station and standing behind it.
Ollie stood on the other side of Rowan and crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.
“Okay. Lucas, what are those things?”
“Military. But really old military. Corps castoffs more than likely.”
“Weapons?”
“Several.”
“Cogs.” Rowan cursed.
Ren tried to melt into the wall. Staving off panic, he could feel the sizzle of his star in his chest, aching to be released.
Lucas frowned. “They’ve surrounded us. Definitely an act of aggression.”
“We’re being hailed, Captain,” Penelope said, small fingers flying across the flat screen.
Rowan crossed her legs, positioning herself so she looked like a queen holding court with her head high, her shoulders back. Next to her, Asher stood at attention, exuding every bit of the military bearing ingrained in him so these ships would know exactly who they were dealing with. With Ollie the giant, the three of them made a formidable sight.
It wouldn’t matter.
“Open a channel,” Rowan commanded. “On screen.”
The connection was immediate and before them, displayed across their viewing screens, was a cold, calculating smile. Abiathar loomed, with piercing blue eyes, a long nose and a severe expression. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth spoke of long years but certainly not frailty or senility.
“I am Abiathar,” he said, his voice deep and hard. “You have something I want.”
“What right do you have, impeding our passage on this trade route?” Rowan demanded. “We have nothing of yours. This is a gross obstruction and violation of the Trade Route Protection Act of…”
“Good to see you again, Asher. Though you do look different not cowering behind bars. How’s the shoulder? All right, I hope.”
Asher didn’t flinch, though Ren did. He tried to make himself as small as possible, but his presence didn’t go unnoticed.
Abiathar’s eyes brightened and his lips pulled wider; his gaze settled hard on Ren. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Your presence is requested on this ship within ten minutes or I will take action.”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
Abiathar didn’t acknowledge Asher’s statement. He addressed Ren. “Would you rather I have my men kill the crew or suggest you do it yourself?”
Cold fear washed through Ren, turning his blood to ice. He remembered Abiathar’s voice, how he pushed Ren to take off the cuffs, how he threatened Ren in his chambers, how he commanded Ren with a word until it was all Ren could hear. He could only imagine what Abiathar could make him do.
“No,” Ren whispered.
Abiathar laughed. “Captain, you have no idea what you have on board. You should be grateful that I am willing to take him off your hands.”
Rowan stood, gracefully, menacingly, her full lips pursed. Fury radiated from every inch of her, from the line of her posture to the flatness of her gaze. “You will take nothing off this ship.”
“I will take what I need to fulfill my employer’s destiny.”
Rowan put her hands on her hips. “You have no right to block us. Move from our path or I will be forced to contact the Corps.”
Abiathar scoffed. “He has eluded me for weeks, Captain. I won’t allow him out of my grasp.”
Asher stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides. “Are you going to destroy us like you did the Nomad?”
“Oh, Corporal,” Abiathar purred. “I should’ve known you’d be as blunt as you are dim. No, I’m not going to obliterate the Star Stream. I’m going to disable it. Then I’m going to board it. My men and I will ferret out your little friend, capture him and then kill the rest of you.”
“If you attempt to board us, I will make sure there are many nasty surprises awaiting you.”
“Now, now. No need to be combative, Captain. This could all be avoided if you would simply hand him over.”
“I’m not handing anyone over! Now, move from our path or I will be forced to—”
“You disappoint me, Captain!” he shouted. “This is your last chance to be reasonable and comply.”
“And you disappoint me if you think I will succumb to threats. Now kindly go to hell.”
Rowan sent a quick glance to Penelope, who cut the transmission.
Shaking, Ren cleared his throat. Everyone on the bridge swiveled to look at him. “Hand me over,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t put yourselves at risk.”
Rowan blinked at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. No one orders me around. And it’ll be a cold day in a supernova before I obey that cog.” Barking orders, Rowan wasted no time. “Lucas, get us the hell out of here. I know we’re not fast enough, but make us a hard target.”
“With pleasure,” Lucas answered, leaning forward on the controls to take the ship into a dive.
“Penelope.”
“Transmission sent to the Corps as soon as he started talking,” she answered. “The nearest ship is several leagues away.”
“Cogs,” Asher whispered.
“Looks like we’re on our own,” Ollie said.
“Yeah, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Ash, I need you to—”
The first barrage from Abiathar’s ship rocked the Star Stream, pitching them all to the side as the shot struck the port bow. Ren fell to his knees. He let out a grunt as the ship shuddered and the ominous creaking and moaning of metal echoed around them.
“Stars, they weren’t playing around,” Ollie said, holding on to the captain’s chair with a death grip.
“No, they weren’t,” Rowan agreed. “Lucas?”
Ren watched as Lucas struggled with the controls, spurring them into a spinning dive, but there was no way to avoid the second blast.
“We’re losing power,” Penelope yelled as sparks skittered across the command console.
“Rowan,” Asher said, expression pinched, his hard grip on the navigation console the only thing keeping him standing, “the ships are breaking off. They are moving to either side of us.”
“Lucas?” Rowan called. Her voice was high, panicked.
“Flight controls are gone, Captain. We can’t run.”
Another blast struck the hull. And then another, in rapid succession. The ship rocked, sending the crew scattering like confetti on a breeze. Ren squeezed his eyes shut and waited, but another blast didn’t come. Carefully, Ren opened his eyes.
He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and took everything in. Asher cradled his arm to his chest, and Ollie slowly rose from his sprawl on the floor.
The power was off. The glow of t
he emergency lights was eerie amid the sounds of stressed metal and the fizzle-pop of systems shutting down. Backup life support was running, but everything else was fried. Ren could feel in his bones how the ship gave up, one system at a time, as the energy from Abaithar’s blast crackled over its frame and down into its circuits.
The imminent failing of the Star Stream’s systems was enough to spur Ren’s power to try and stetch beyond his tight grip. It begged inside him—to flee, to fix, to fight—but he held it back, afraid to give in. Afraid of what Nadie had warned of his humanity.
Watching as sparks sputtered from consoles and danced across the floor, and hearing the shouts of the crew, of Asher’s family, cracked his resolve. The sounds rattled in Ren’s head, mixed with the pings and snaps of the deck plate and the hull. The ship sloped to the side, jerking under the continued assault.
Abiathar ensured the Star Stream was dead in the water.
The sound of twin thunks echoed, the evidence of grappling lines connecting to either side of the ship. Abiathar planned to secure a connection and pull the Star Stream closer in order to board.
“He’s going to attempt to seal with the aft airlock,” Rowan said. A strand of hair had come loose from her braid and it stuck to a wound in her hairline, from which blood trailed slowly down her temple. “We’ll fight him.”
“Ren,” Asher said, looking toward where Ren cowered. “You need to hide. Find a duct or a closet. Anything. We’ll fight him off. But you have to hide.”
Asher’s words struck a chord inside Ren he couldn’t explain. Ren thought about his village on Erden, remembering the times he hid with Liam in the forest as floaters prowled the village, how they had shaken with terror as they huddled in a nest of wet leaves and dirt. He remembered the fear of being snatched off the street, and the hopelessness, knowing one day he would be caught. He remembered the day they captured him, how he had fought so Liam might be safe and how he had failed to protect Jakob and Sorcha at the citadel. And he felt the sadness and the guilt that crushed him when he stole away on the first ship he and Asher could find, feeling his connection with Erden shrink and snap with the distance as he left his family behind.