by F. T. Lukens
Daly’s gaze flickered to Ren. The weapons remained raised in his direction. He kept still and kept his hands up. The indignation he felt about being lumped in with the girl burned, but he wasn’t about to act on it.
Asher noticed. “You can lower your weapons. We’re all on the same team.”
“If it’s all the same to you, we feel more comfortable if you had your technopath under control.”
“Now look here,” Jakob started, but Ollie slapped a hand over his mouth. Jakob kept talking, though muffled and unintelligible. Ren shook his head, eyes wide, and Jakob ceased, though his brow remained furrowed.
“Ren is not a threat,” Rowan said. “He’s part of my crew and he’s helping us take back this drift. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a plan to enact.”
“A plan?” Daly asked.
“Yeah, and it’s a good one,” Ollie added with a large smile.
Ren could see the indecision in her eyes. She didn’t know if she was going to let them go on their way or if she was going to take them into custody. She was probably wondering how the hell they’d got on the drift to begin with. And there was little doubt she perceived Ren as a threat.
Daly crossed her arms. “Our reconnaissance shows any direct attack on the control center would have disastrous consequences for the captives.”
“Which is why we aren’t mounting a direct assault,” Asher replied, evenly.
She nodded, her shrewd gaze drifting over them, taking in the disguises and the discarded cuffs.
“I want in.”
“Only if I lead,” Asher shot back.
“I outrank you. I’m in control of this regiment.”
“Bang-up job you’re doing,” Jakob said. Ollie smirked.
Daly ignored them. She lifted her chin. “I am the commanding officer. I order you to stand down, Corporal.”
“Right.” Asher looked to Ren and gave a nod. “Ren.”
Ren had no idea what Asher expected him to do, but he was fairly certain it was a power play. Ren raised his hands and focused on the weapon nearest him. He tapped into his star and pushed it out; the power infused his middle, spread down his arms to his fingers. He kept his eyes open, knowing they glowed blue, and reached out toward the pulser. The blueprint of the weapon flashed through Ren’s mind and he easily disassembled it. The weapon fell apart, pinging on the floor, and with a blink, Ren snapped back into his body.
He smiled at the mess on the deck with satisfaction.
“Ren, what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object?” Asher asked.
All vestiges of Ren’s star retreated and his smile grew. “That’s a paradox, Corporal.”
Daly’s expression was only mildly impressed, but her regiment eyed Ren with unfettered suspicion and fear. And for the first time, Ren didn’t mind.
“Fine,” Daly gritted out. “You take the lead, since you seem to be able to keep the technopath under control.”
Ren’s smile dimmed.
“Great,” Asher said. He moved through the group and clapped Ren on the shoulder as he passed. “Let’s get started then. Ollie and Jakob, back to original positions. Ren and Rowan, electronic shackles on. Daly, go with your regiment to levels three and four and wait for the signal.”
“What’s going to be the signal?” a low-level Corpsman asked, hand tentatively raised.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
Jakob twisted his lips. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
Ren silently agreed.
* * *
They made it to the pneumatic lift without incident. However, it wasn’t running. When Ren had cut everything but the emergency power, it meant power to the lifts as well. The other technopath hadn’t undone the tangle. Ren didn’t take this as a compliment to his skills, but a warning that whatever else she was doing was deemed more important. They’d been on the drift for hours now. She’d had the drift in her power for days. What was she waiting for?
“Cogs,” Rowan cursed. “Now what?”
“The stairs then,” Jakob said.
They opened the door and found a ladder that went straight up. Rowan and Ren looked at their bound hands.
“The universe is against us,” Ren said on a sigh.
Asher looked into the shaft and craned his neck. “Well, up we go.”
“No. This is ridiculous,” Jakob said. “Ren, power the lift.”
Ren scratched his chin. “Uh, about that… I can’t.”
“Of course you can. I just watched you disassemble a weapon you weren’t even touching. You can power this.”
“No, he can’t,” Asher cut in. “It will be fine.”
“Is this a bad time to remind everyone I’m afraid of heights?” Ollie said.
Rowan sighed and cast Ren a look.
“Fine. Everyone into the lift.”
They piled in and Ren quickly allowed his star into the controls. The lift shot upward and everyone grabbed onto the sides. Ollie gasped in surprise.
Ren felt the other technopath, but he kept himself as separate as possible. She shoved him, and his stomach churned. He clenched his jaw and counted the levels in his head. When they reached the twentieth level, he stopped the lift and immediately pulled out. The lift stopped with a jolt. When the doors opened, they stumbled out.
“Ren,” Asher said softly, “you all right? You look a little green.”
“I’m fine.” He mustered a smile. “Let’s get this over with.”
Back in their positions, they began the walk to the control center. The emergency lights gave an eerie glow to the march, and Ren’s anxiety spiked. His cuffs loosened and tightened on his wrists with every stuttered breath he took.
Helmets on, Asher, Ollie and Jakob all looked the part of the Baron’s soldiers, even if Jakob walked slightly bent due to the shot to his side. Rowan and Ren acted the submissive captives. To everyone’s surprise, it worked. The defenses did not fire.
At the doors, Jakob stepped forward. He pressed the comm button.
“Captives from the ship, General.”
There was no answer, but the double doors slowly creaked open. Jakob stepped back, his hands tight around his weapon.
“You ready?” Asher whispered.
Ren took a deep breath. He wasn’t. His hands shook. Sweat broke out along his brow. This was a bad idea, facing the man who had captured him, who bent Ren to his will. “Yes.”
The doors opened to reveal the control center. The technopath stood there, her eyes glowing, her hands buried in the circuit boards. Her long dark hair wisped into her pale face. Short and thin, she wore a tattered dress. She kept her bare feet planted against the deck, but her body swayed. She looked unnatural, the way Ren imagined ghosts did: her expression was slack, eyes open and unblinking as her irises burned.
Ren now knew how he appeared to Asher and the others when he was lost in the machines.
“It’s her,” Ren heard Asher whisper. “The girl from the cell. I know her name.”
Ren didn’t have time to reply, for Abiathar stood in the middle of the room, dressed in black. In the glow of the emergency lights, he appeared intimidating and otherworldly.
Ren swallowed. This was a bad idea.
Abaithar’s cold, stern gaze settled on the group. “I knew you would not be able to elude me forever,” he said, addressing Ren. “You will be of use to me as we lay the foundation of our great society.”
“You’re insane,” Rowan said.
Asher raised his weapon. “And you’re under arrest.”
Abiathar smirked, his lips a cruel twist. His stoic mask didn’t flicker. It was as if he wasn’t surprised at all.
“You’d risk the demise of the thousands of captives on this drift?” He tsked. “Your drifter arrogance is astounding.”
“It’s not as
astounding as your duster idiocy,” Ren said. “Do you think we would have shown up here without a plan? Seriously?”
Abiathar gave them a considering look. He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “Don’t shoot the one like you,” he commanded the girl. “Kill the others.”
The internal defenses whirred to life. Pulsers mounted in the ceiling swiveled to attention and fixed their aim on the group.
Oh, stars.
“Get down!”
Asher grabbed the front of Ren’s shirt and yanked him to the floor behind an overturned table. The others hit the ground, ducking behind overturned furniture. Ollie dove to the doorframe and rolled out of the control center, his bulk too easy a target. Loud and chaotic, the sound of the discharges echoed in the small space. Ren heard Rowan hiss in pain. He heard Jakob curse.
“We’re pinned,” Jakob yelled. “I can’t get a shot.”
“You don’t need one,” Asher shouted back.
Amid the pings and sizzle-pops, Asher’s voice rang out, strong and clear.
“Millicent,” Asher called to the girl. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”
Ren watched from under a chair as a flicker of confusion shot across Abiathar’s features. Ren’s spirit soared. Abiathar didn’t understand. He didn’t know about the power of paradox.
Ren felt giddy when the light in the girl’s eyes dimmed, and her mouth moved.
“Millicent, a man tells you everything he says is a lie. Is that the truth or a lie?” Asher yelled.
She blinked. She stopped swaying. Her hands slowly unclenched; the white-knuckle grip went slack. The internal defenses kept firing, but the shots became sporadic and unfocused. The influence of her star slipped, as did Abiathar’s control.
“No,” Abiathar barked. “Vent levels three and four. Call the soldiers back to the command center. Now!”
“Millicent, can a man drown in the fountain of eternal youth?”
She gasped. She let go of the circuits, and the blue light faded from her eyes.
“Ren, now!”
Ren jumped to his feet and leapt toward the console. He dove in with abandon.
Unfettered within the drift, Ren could see everything. He spread out from the epicenter of the control tower in a blast and raced out along the systems. He went in every direction, splintering around comms, dancing along the sensors and breezing through life support. With a heave, Ren turned everything on.
The doors to levels three and four unlocked. Power sparked into the media boards, the music, the lights, the intercoms. Ren fragmented further, looked out of the drift’s sensors and stopped short.
Phoenix Corps ships floated on the edge of sensor range, surrounding the drift, but not moving. Waiting for a signal perhaps? Ren could give them one. Ren could do anything. He was massive, spread out as he was, and he was omnipotent. He could vent the whole drift. He could destroy all the ships. He could bend the technology to his will.
But he didn’t want to.
He didn’t need to.
Ren retreated and began the process of shrinking into his body. Then something caught his eye. It was a message, blinking and small, and Ren drifted toward it. He poked it and the missive unfurled in colors.
Ren had never laid eyes on the Baron of his fief in Erden, but somehow he instantly recognized that he was the author of the message.
“I will arrive in a few hours. Be ready.”
The message was time-stamped a couple of hours before.
The Baron was nearby. He was nearby.
This was what Millicent was waiting for. She was holding Mykonos for him. This was to be his new citadel.
Immediately, Ren went back into the sensors and scanned the area around the drift. There! A ship, smaller than Star Stream, far enough out to almost be out of the drift’s range. It was turning around and speeding away.
Ren whipped back into his body. He opened his eyes and gasped.
Millicent clung to Ollie and cried into his chest. Rowan sported a burn on her arm. Jakob held his side and stood slightly bent. Abiathar lay on the floor, gagged. Ren was grateful to whomever had the foresight to keep Abiathar’s mouth shut.
“Ash,” Ren said, “he’s here. The Baron was here. The Phoenix Corps has surrounded Mykonos but he’s getting away.”
Asher stumbled over a chair and lurched to the comm control. “What? Tell me again.”
“We don’t have time,” Ren said, flipping switches and grabbing a radio. He shoved it into Asher’s hand. “Use your call sign and your last name. Tell Daly or anyone who will listen to stop that ship!”
“Daly, this is Morgan. Do you come in? Message. Over.”
There was a beat of silence and then the comm in his hand crackled to life.
“Morgan. This is Daly. Send message. Over.”
“Daly. This is Morgan. One suspect in custody. Another suspect in ship leaving perimeter of Mykonos. Corps ships at standby and able to intercept. Relay message. Over.”
“Morgan. This is Daly. Message relayed to General VanMeerten. Second suspect not priority. Over.”
Ren shivered at the expression of anger on Asher’s face. “Daly. This is Morgan,” he gritted into the comm. “Permission to pursue second suspect with my crew. Over.”
“Morgan. Daly. Wait for Bravo squad at your position to turn over prime suspect. Do not leave area. Do not pursue. Orders firm. Over.”
“But…” Asher sputtered into the comm, all military formality disappearing. “But he’s the one behind everything. Abiathar is his puppet. Go after the ship, or at least let us go.” He heaved a breath. “Over,” he added as an afterthought.
“Morgan. Daly. Stand down. Orders firm. Wait for Bravo squad. Out.”
Ren startled when Asher threw the receiver across the room. It bounced on the wall, and fell to the ground in a heap of wires and metal. Shoulders tense, Asher bent over the console.
Ren hesitantly touched Asher’s arm.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
“No! You don’t understand! This is what they do!” He gestured wildly. “They tell you backup is coming and to hold your position, and it never comes. It never comes, and they leave you to bleed out in the mud of some dirt-hole planet because you were stupid enough to believe them.”
Asher’s chest heaved, and Ren could see tears of exhaustion and pain shimmer in the corners of Asher’s eyes. Asher place a splayed hand on the center of his chest and rubbed, his breaths coming quick and panicked, and Ren moved close, offering comfort with proximity.
“Ash,” Ren said softly. “I promise it’s going to be okay.”
And then Ren wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders. Asher’s body slumped into the embrace and he buried his head in Ren’s neck, clenching his hands in the back of Ren’s shirt. He grabbed on as if his life depended on it, and inhaled deep, steadying breaths, as if he could take Ren in through his lungs and keep him there.
Ren remembered calling Asher out for his apathy in the dungeon and after all their time together, Ren finally understood why Asher had hunkered in his cell for a year instead of attempting an escape. The truth of his capture bled out in trembling muscles and shaky gasps.
Ren grasped tighter. “It’s all right. You’ve got a crew, and your crew needs you. We need you, Ash. More than we need another adventure.”
Asher took a shuddering breath in Ren’s arms. He composed himself and straightened, discreetly wiping at his eyes.
Ren looked to his friends. Jakob leaned on Rowan, and Millicent clutched Ollie’s hand in both of her own.
“Right,” Asher said softly. “My crew.”
Rowan’s mouth twitched into a smile. “My crew,” she countered.
Asher rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Our crew.”
“Fine,”
Rowan said, exhaling a put-upon sigh. “Our crew.”
Ollie grinned. “We’ll need a bigger ship.”
“Nah,” Ren said, wiggling his fingers. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
Asher’s palm was warm when he wrapped it around Ren’s, capturing his fingers. “Not like that.” He gave Ren’s hand a squeeze. “It’s almost over,” Asher said with a small smile.
Ren nodded in return, but he knew it was far from over. He looked to Abiathar and then down at his own hands. He felt the power hum within him, the invisible tether that bound him to the drift, to Asher, to the Star Stream.
They may have captured Abiathar, but their adventure had only begun.
15
Sitting in a chair, hands in his lap, Ren felt as though he was in the village schoolhouse on Erden. Except it wasn’t the teacher staring him down from across a desk, but General VanMeerten. She was an older woman with coarse hair pulled back in a severe bun and an impressive scar that ran from her earlobe to the point of her chin. Dressed in an immaculate uniform studded with stars and medals, she put Asher to shame.
Ren bounced his knee, nervous and shaky, adrenaline still slowly leaving his system. Asher placed his hand on it. Asher’s palm was warm through the thin fabric of Ren’s trousers and his touch bled off some of Ren’s anxiety. The action didn’t go unnoticed by VanMeerten; her gaze zeroed in on Asher’s hand, but she didn’t comment.
She hadn’t spoken since the group shuffled into the Phoenix Corps training room, escorted by Bravo squad, and took seats among the rows of hard-backed chairs. Ollie sprawled. Lucas and Penelope, who had been collected from the ship, held hands. Jakob listed to the side, eyes heavy, wearing his exhaustion like a second skin. Rowan crossed her arms and glared.
Asher sat beside Ren, hiding his fear better than Ren was. He squeezed Ren’s knee and Ren took comfort in the gesture. When Asher pulled away, Ren felt the loss keenly.
Minutes passed, and Ren didn’t know what VanMeerten waited for. They were all there, except that Abiathar had been whisked away and Millicent had been bound and escorted away as well, despite Ren’s protests and his assertions of her innocence.