Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know if I can stop it. It’s harder now since I… since… the incident on the bridge when I couldn’t let go.”

  Asher stiffened. He was obviously thinking about when Ren had been stuck inside the Star Stream, when Ren’s humanity had burned away and the cold logic of the machines had taken over. Ren had gone beyond where anyone could reach him, and it was only Asher’s quick thinking that had stopped him from killing dozens of people.

  “When the power overtook you. Is that what happens at night?”

  “I dream,” Ren said, softly. “I dream of Erden. I dream of people I knew. The dreams are so vivid, so terrible, and I can’t stop, even if I try.”

  “They trigger your power. Like before, when you were upset or threatened, like the panic this morning. Your power activated.”

  “Yes,” Ren said.

  “And the ship responds. You couldn’t breathe, so life support kicked off.”

  Ren swallowed. “Yes.”

  “The dreams are getting worse, aren’t they?”

  Ren focused on the heat of Asher’s body along the line of his side, the touch of Asher’s pinky finger against his, the cradle of the mattress against his body. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut and didn’t answer.

  “Because you’re not dead exhausted at night now? Or is it something else?”

  Ren shrugged. The drowsy lull of sleep slipped over him.

  “It’s because we’re not as close, isn’t it? You don’t know if you can trust me because of my position with the Corps. Because you feel trapped by the people you thought would save you. Because you don’t believe I’m on your side any longer.”

  No one could say Asher wasn’t perceptive. He was. It was what made him such a good soldier and a good friend. But Ren didn’t want to talk about any of it. He was blunted, right then, with the blurred edges of slumber overtaking him.

  “Remember, right after, when we stayed in that hotel.” Asher shifted slightly on the bunk mattress. “And I took you to that garden? We walked around the paths and held hands.”

  “You kissed me next to the carnivorous shrub.”

  Asher chuckled. “You liked it.”

  “I did.” Ren smiled.

  “We got sprayed by the sprinklers. My shirt was soaked.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I liked the smell of the wet dirt and mulch. Your nose was scrunched the whole time.”

  “It reminded me of…” Asher trailed off.

  Ren heard the words anyway. It reminded Asher of Erden, of his cell, of his captivity.

  “It reminded me of home.” Ren said. His smile faded.

  “I miss us,” Asher said softly.

  The words were an arrow in Ren’s gut. “Ash,” Ren said. “I’m tired.”

  Asher patted his hand. “I know. Go to sleep, Ren.”

  A shiver of fear slipped up Ren’s spine, and he gripped Asher’s hand, laced their fingers. “Please stay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Rest, Ren. I’ll be here to keep you safe.”

  Ren believed him, and, unafraid, eased into a doze.

  2

  When Ren woke, the entire day had passed. Asher was gone, but a note sat tented by Ren’s head.

  I’m sorry, I couldn’t stay. I was needed elsewhere. I’ll see you at the next check-in.

  - A

  Ren crumpled the paper. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed his body erect and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. He washed his face; the cold water shocked him into wakefulness.

  Needing to see something different from the four walls, he slipped on his boots and left his room. Because their relationship was broken, Asher was no longer his anchor, and Ren relied on the others.

  He heard voices in the common room and stepped through the doorway. The conversation stopped dead. He waved his hand at the occupants, Jakob and Penelope, before shuffling to the counter to pour a cup of day-old coffee.

  “Hey, Ren,” Jakob said, standing up from the sagging couch and crossing the room. He clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “It’s been an exciting day.”

  Ren twisted his lips as he added sweetener to the steaming liquid and stirred it with a spoon. He preferred tea, but found the caffeine from the coffee helpful. Asher had shown him how to make coffee less bitter, which now seemed ironic.

  “Is that your way of tactfully getting me to talk about this morning? Because you failed.”

  Jakob scoffed. “I’ve been practicing my tact. Haven’t I, Pen?”

  Penelope smiled, but the action did not reach her brown eyes. She brushed a long lock of curly dark hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Sorry, Jakob. I’m going to have to agree with Ren on this one.”

  “Weeds,” Jakob said, giving Ren a shake. “I have to work harder then.”

  “Probably,” Ren said, moving out from under Jakob’s touch to sit at the table. He hunched over his drink and sipped it. It burned his tongue. Ren took comfort from the sting.

  “Well, now that the ice is broken… do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  Ren pretended he didn’t notice the concerned glance Jakob and Penelope shared.

  “Are you sure?” Penelope said. “Talking may help?”

  Irritation crawled through Ren’s middle. He knew they were only trying to support him. They were his friends and undoubtedly they were scared because Ren had almost killed everyone that morning through oxygen deprivation and hypothermia and because of the other times Ren had accessed systems in the throes of a nightmare. But Penelope’s tone rubbed him the wrong way, like sandpaper against his nerves.

  “The picture helped,” Ren said, recognizing that he had to give them something.

  Jakob smiled as he sat down across from Ren. “It did?”

  “Yeah, it reminded me I was on the ship.”

  After the first time, when Ren had dreamed he was locked in the cell on Erden with Abiathar’s voice in his head and his sleeping, unconscious self had tried to open all the doors on the Star Stream including the airlocks, Jakob had drawn him the picture. Ren had laughed at the misshapen spaceship speeding along a map of stars leaving a rainbow trail in its wake. Stick-figure representations of the crew members dotted all sides of the border. Asher had a silver shoulder and a scribble of blond hair and a ridiculous frown. There had been several incidents after that.

  No one was laughing anymore.

  “That’s great!” Pen said, sitting up straighter. “Would you like me to draw you one as well? Oh, I know, Lucas is a great artist. You’ve seen the maps. He could do it. Would that help?”

  They both regarded Ren so seriously, so earnestly, that Ren couldn’t be angry. “Sure,” he said.

  Penelope’s smile went from forced to relieved. “I’ll ask him. Maybe one of his maps would help? It could remind you we’re in space?”

  “And that it would be a bad idea to try to open the doors,” Jakob added. “Because of the terrifying vacuum that is right outside and the fact we would all die.”

  “Noted,” Ren said, dryly.

  Jakob ruffled Ren’s hair, and Ren scowled as he tried to pat it back down.

  “Please, stop.”

  “What? It can’t look any worse,” Jakob said with a grin.

  Ren rolled his eyes. He gulped down his coffee, unable to stand the forced levity of Jakob and Pen’s combined presence. They tried too hard. Penelope wore her notoriously soft heart on her sleeve, and Jakob was acting like the boy he’d been in their home village on Erden. Jakob had always been haughty, brash, and impulsive, but likeable, and he’d inspired the admiration of the other youths. He had never teased Ren, because Ren wasn’t worth the effort; he wasn’t even on Jakob’s periphery.

  Ja
kob was far from that boy now: His exterior was hardened, his shoulders were weary, his mind had become calculating, his point of view had been widened by what he had experienced. But he pretended for Ren’s sake.

  Ren didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. “Don’t you have something to do?” Ren stood and put his mug in the sink. “A task from our beloved Captain? Other than bothering me?”

  Jakob’s smile grew. “Nope, other than enjoy the ride. You were right, Ren, space is boring when you haven’t been forcibly conscripted into the service of an insane despot.”

  “Glad you’re having a nice time,” Ren said; his sarcasm was both thick and sharp.

  “Actually,” Penelope said, interrupting, “we really should take stock of our supplies before we head to bed, Jakob. We’re pulling into port soon and we should check to see if we’re short of anything.”

  “Well, then, I do have something to do other than give you a hard time.”

  “Thank the stars for that.”

  Jakob playfully pushed Ren’s shoulder, but then his expression turned serious.

  “Did you ask?”

  Ren’s coffee turned sour in his stomach.

  “Jakob…” Ren trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Jakob wanted to go back to Erden, to look for their friend, Sorcha, to look for his family. But Asher was right. The Corps wouldn’t grant permission, not now. Ren had a sneaking suspicion the constraints were partly because if Ren were planetside, he’d be out of the Corps’ jurisdiction and off their radar. They couldn’t afford to lose track of him and couldn’t be caught dirt-side following him. They didn’t belong on planets unless invited.

  “No, I know. I shouldn’t have asked. Not with—” Jacob wiggled his fingers “—everything you’ve had to deal with already this morning.”

  Ren couldn’t have felt more awful. “I’ll ask. I’ll ask tomorrow. The worst she can do is say no.”

  Jakob had a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

  Ren squirmed, unable to handle any more emotion. He turned for the door.

  “Don’t you want to eat?” Pen asked before Ren could slip away. “I have leftovers from dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry and I should probably check on the ship. Make sure I didn’t break anything important this time.”

  “I could make you a sandwich to take with you.”

  “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m fine, Pen,” Ren snapped. At her stricken expression, Ren moderated his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. I should go.”

  She gave him a fragile smile. “Okay.”

  Feeling worse for being annoyed with Pen than he did for almost killing them all, Ren ducked his head and left the common room.

  There was nothing wrong with the ship. Ren used the possibility as an excuse, which was a tactic he used often to escape uncomfortable interactions. He could feel the pulse of the Star Stream in his veins, could hear the heartbeat of the systems echo his own. The ship was an extension of him. His star knew every circuit, every wire, every inch of the vessel intimately.

  Touching the wall, he closed his eyes and merged with the vid feeds. He watched his own body from a camera as he walked. The experience was surreal, but more real to him than looking out of his own eyes. He was a combination of machine and man and he didn’t know what that made him—if he was human or a different entity entirely—but he did know he was safe in the systems.

  He only wanted to be safe.

  And he wanted his friends to be safe. But that, apparently, was a harder task than he had anticipated.

  Ren pulled out of the ship and wandered to the cargo bay where he knew Millicent would be. She liked the open area and she liked that Ollie worked out down there. She wasn’t fooling anyone—well, maybe Ollie. Not that Ren could give relationship advice, since his was fairly nonexistent, if it had ever existed at all.

  He detected Millicent’s own star’s signature. She radiated a calm Ren could only hope to achieve. In the beginning, the thought was that Ren would teach her control, but they all soon learned it would be the other way around. Millicent had a soft-spoken way about her and impeccable restraint. She wasn’t as powerful as Ren, though she could take over the entirety of Mykonos Drift, and she could nuance her power in a way that Ren was still trying to master.

  She had been able to push Ren out of the drift’s systems when they first met, and it wasn’t all because she had been under Abiathar’s control.

  She, too, had found her niche in the crew of the Star Stream. Rowan and Pen treated her like a long-lost sister. Lucas and Ollie wanted to protect her.

  Ren wasn’t jealous. Or—he shouldn’t be jealous—but he was. He’d rather be regarded as a harmless kitten than a threat. It was a strange dichotomy, and Ren was working on reconciling it.

  “Ren,” Millicent said, as he descended the steps to the floor of the cargo bay. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” he said.

  “You’re lying.”

  She sat cross-legged on a rug with her back stiff. Her dark hair hung in long, straight strands; the tips curled on the floor. She stared, large eyes unblinking, pretty mouth pulled into a frown. Penelope’s mixer sat in front of her. She put the tip of her finger on the casing. Ren shuddered at the pulse of Millicent’s star, and the mixer came to life, only to short out a few moments later.

  Ren sat on the floor across from her. “You should take lessons on tact from Jakob. He at least tried to cushion it when he called me out.”

  She didn’t smile. “I’m not Jakob. The others may not be able to feel it, but I can.”

  Ren raised an eyebrow. “Feel what?”

  “Feel that you’re drifting. You’re everywhere in this ship, and that means you’re not in there,” she said, pushing her finger into Ren’s chest.

  He rubbed the spot where her fingernail had dug in. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not anchored.”

  “Well, my anchor turned out to be a cog. It’s a little difficult to want to be around someone who has more allegiance to his boss than his friend.”

  She blinked, her expression unreadable. “He’s protecting you.”

  Ren frowned. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference between being protected and being prisoner.” That wasn’t entirely fair, but Ren wasn’t in the mood to be fair.

  “That’s not true. You need to talk to him.”

  Ren glanced away. “I know, but I… can’t. We’re… trying, but things are different now.”

  “You’d risk venting us all into space instead of talking to a person who holds affection for you?”

  “I didn’t say it made sense,” Ren grumbled.

  “He needs to understand that you don’t need protecting.”

  “Did you miss the part where I have a powerful military organization wanting to lock me up? Lock us both up?”

  Millicent slowly turned her head to the side. She may be calm, but sometimes the way she moved made Ren think of a puppet. It was eerily reminiscent of when he’d met her, when she was under the influence of Abiathar’s voice and her eyes had glowed in her vacant body.

  “We’re stars. We’re more powerful than any person or any group. Protection from Asher means nothing.”

  “I’d think twice about saying that to anyone other than me. It sounds a little scary and threatening. The crew might not understand what you mean.”

  “Do you understand?”

  Ren’s frown deepened. He cleared his throat. “What are you up to?” Changing the subject, he gestured at the machine.

  Millicent slowly tilted her head to the other side. “Playing with Penelope’s mixer. I haven’t been successful.”

  “Is it broken?”

  “I don’t think so? Unless I broke it.”

  R
en hid a smile. Millicent and he were opposites. When Abiathar used her powers to take over the drift, it had drained her; Ren’s powers only seemed to grow. He had tapped into the vastness of space and unleashed a torrent of potential, while her star withered. As they had discovered, their bodies reacted differently to the innate power. Millicent had control, and Ren was going to burn up from the inside. Abiathar could influence others with his voice. Nadie could see the future. Who knew what others could do?

  Ren held out his hand and concentrated. The tingle of power emanated from his chest and trickled down to his fingertips; his vision went blue as he pushed out and explored the simplistic innards of the mixer. There was a slight glitch, which he fixed, but otherwise nothing was broken and the power source was fully charged. He found the switch, flicked it on, and the beater whirred to life. He turned it off and disengaged.

  Millicent pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “How can you do that without touching it?”

  “I don’t know. I see it and I know what to do. I can’t really explain it.”

  She shook her head so her long hair swept across the floor. “I understand why you have a hard time controlling it. We should work on control. Sit with me.”

  They’d done this before, when Ren had started to go haywire, after the first time he had entered the ship in his dreams. He mirrored her pose, and she guided him through breathing exercises.

  “I think everyone has gone to bed,” she said softly. “Except Lucas, who is on the bridge. Wearing goggles.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get that either.”

  She snorted.

  Ren lifted the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes and followed her lead, inhaling and exhaling. With each breath, his star centered. The warmth glowed in the middle of his chest and pulsed with his heartbeat. The ship enveloped him in tranquility. The soothing hum of its systems and the energy from circuits flowed through the ship like a life force. The exercises were meant to make him more concentrated in his own body, in his corporeal self, but Ren found the opposite.