Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  He reached for calm, but it was elusive, especially when his emotions were in such turmoil. Serenity was slippery, like a fish pulled from the lake on Erden. The systems pulled on his being, and he couldn’t resist, and his thoughts turned toward the dark and dire—the confines of his cell on Erden, the loss of his brother, the desperate days of wandering across the countryside.

  He gave in to the Star Stream; he fled from the tumultuous mortal coil into the freedom and safety of the ship. He floated amid the systems, and found the ship’s time much later than he thought. He’d lost time during his walk from the common area to the cargo bay, and the fact disconcerted him. Everyone was indeed asleep, except Lucas and Asher.

  Through the comm system, he could hear Asher talking. Curious, Ren followed the stream of information.

  “The subjects continue to remain stable.”

  Ren flinched from the clinical terms. Subjects. Then he bristled. He was a star host, and Asher would do well to remember that.

  “The female is in control of her power. There have been no incidents. The male…”

  Here, Asher trailed off. He put down the tablet he dictated into and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He pushed the tablet away and turned to the bed.

  “Oh, Ren,” he muttered. “What is going on with you?” He plopped onto the bunk and hit his pillow twice. “I don’t know how to help you.”

  Asher seemed reluctant, confused, and sad. He didn’t gleefully recount that Ren had nearly killed them that morning—while in the throes of panic, but no less dangerous for that. Asher didn’t report the incident or Ren’s confession. And when Asher sighed and kicked off his shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head, Ren spied the marred flesh of his shoulder, the shredded Corps tattoo, the reminder that Asher had suffered at the hands of the Corps himself. Yet, he had faith.

  Ren’s heart lurched.

  Asher wore a tough front most of the time, but still waters ran deep. Ren ached to be with him, ached to wrap his arms around Asher and hold on, keep him safe, bolster him.

  He couldn’t.

  Ren blinked his eyes open, fully present in his body. He sat across from Millicent, and his heart thumped, his pulse raced, and he could feel the moisture gather in the corners of his eyes.

  “Ren?” Millicent asked. “Are you okay?”

  He breathed. “I’m… fine. I think?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Comm system,” he said. He flexed his fingers and absently touched the cool deck plate. “Asher is awake.”

  Millicent frowned. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t feel it.”

  “I could.” Ren wiped at his eyes. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to feel anymore. I’m… adrift.”

  Millicent gave him a commiserating glance. “Maybe you shouldn’t worry about how you feel right now. Focus on being present in yourself, in your star and in your body. You’re putting yourself in danger if you can’t control it.”

  “I’m putting everyone in danger.” Ren hunched and crossed his arms. “For so long all I wanted to do was be out here in space, among the stars, and now I think it would’ve been better if I had never left Erden, if I had stayed and hid and let Asher leave on his own.”

  Millicent blinked her large eyes and pursed her lips. “Then he would have won. And your friends would be in danger—or dead.”

  And Ren couldn’t argue with that. He ducked his head and traced the scratches that adorned the deck plate of the cargo bay.

  “You need rest,” she said.

  Ren nodded. Despite sleeping all day, he hadn’t recovered from the past few weeks of insomnia and interrupted sleep. He had to look better for tomorrow when he would check in with VanMeerten.

  He needed to give Asher reasons not to doubt him, not to have to choose between him and the Corps, because Ren was fairly certain he’d lose.

  “Goodnight, Millicent.”

  She smiled, small and private. “Goodnight, Ren. Sweet dreams.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  With that, Ren left the cargo bay and slipped like a ghost through the hallways to his room.

  * * *

  Ren was lost. He was in the forest, that much he knew. He could see the sinking sun through the trees and the canopy of leaves. He listened for the sound of anyone or anything, but it was silent: no birds, no wind, no animals scampering in the underbrush, no life. As he trudged along the winding path, the trees loomed, blocking the meager light, casting shadows that danced and threatened. Their spindly branches reached out, grabbed at his jacket, dug their claws into the fabric, and held him. Ren pulled away from the terrifying embrace, as the forest creaked, the tree bark moaned, and terror seized Ren’s heart.

  He ran. Legs pumping, Ren burst through the bracken and stumbled onto a familiar beach. The sun disappeared over the horizon with an unnatural quickness, and the stars and broken moon cast sparkles on the water. Ren’s feet sank in the sand, and, when he tried to move, he was stuck fast. The air was syrupy, sticky and dense. He struggled to inhale and his hands shook as he clutched at his shirt.

  Ren looked behind him and the forest swayed, menacing and unreal. But Ren recognized this beach; he recognized the lake and the sky. A memory stirred, and then a name.

  “Liam!” he yelled.

  He was on Erden. This was his and Liam’s lake. He remembered. He remembered lying in the sand before the floaters came, carted him away, and scared Liam into hiding, beyond Ren’s reach.

  “Liam!” he yelled again; his voice caught on his brother’s name.

  He managed to pull his foot from his boot, leaving it in the quicksand. He moved toward the water, and from one wave to the next, the water turned from clear blue to red.

  Crimson foam and red froth slapped on the shore and smelled of metal and fear. Ren tasted it in the back of his throat.

  “Liam!”

  “Ren,” the voice came from next to him, over his shoulder. The breath was hot against his ear.

  “Liam?” He spun and caught sight of a fleeting shadow. But there was nothing behind him, and Ren knew he was chasing a ghost.

  He ran anyway, moving slowly, his limbs heavy. Even his blinking was slowed by the viscous atmosphere. Sound returned in the soft slap of the waves on the shore and the torture of Liam’s voice taunting him.

  “Why did you leave me?” Liam’s voice echoed, accusatory and broken.

  “I didn’t!” Ren shouted, desperate. “I was taken. They took me away. I didn’t want to leave!”

  “You left me. You left me.”

  Ren spun in a circle and the wash of colors of the forest and the lake blended in his vision. He smelled the tang of the blood-water.

  “I will find you,” Ren said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I will find you. I promise. I will bring you home.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I will!”

  The voice faded, and with it the presence of whomever had been with him. Ren became frantic, pleading. “Liam?” He dropped to his knees and scrabbled along the beach; his hands sank into the wet sand. “Liam!”

  “Ren,” the voice was next to him now, but deeper, softer, not Liam’s.

  Ren sobbed.

  “Ren, wake up.”

  Ren rocketed out of sleep. There were no alarms, no indication he had entered the workings of the ship, but he had been dreaming.

  Asher’s arms were strong around him, and Ren fought. He pushed until he was no longer trapped and fell to the deck plate. His body hurt, sore from the dream, sore from slapping against the metal. He flailed his limbs and noted they moved at their normal speed, unhindered. He breathed and it was no longer a labor. Gaze wild, he looked around the room and saw the gleaming walls of the ship. Looking up, he saw Jakob’s picture and a new star chart.

  “Ren?” Asher crouched, and his voice was soft, as if he was gent
ling a wild animal.

  Ren held up a hand. “Don’t touch me,” he gasped. “Don’t. Stay away. I can’t… I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Asher nodded. He curled his fists against his thighs. “Okay. I won’t touch you.”

  “Liam?”

  “You were dreaming.”

  “I was on Erden. I was stuck in the forest. In the sand.” Ren looked around, confused. The light was low and the shadows moved. They made Ren nervous, and, after a flick of his hand, the lights blazed.

  Asher blinked, then stood. “Ren, it was a dream. You’re on the Star Stream.”

  “I know,” Ren snapped, pulling his body straight. He paced the length of his cell. His pulse thumped; adrenaline was a live current in his veins. He gazed around the small space, not seeing it. Expecting to see granules of sand, he studied his palms. There was nothing.

  “I need to go back.”

  “Where?”

  “Home. I need to go back home.”

  Asher put his hands on his hips and gazed at the ceiling. “Ren, we’ve talked about that. It’s not possible right now. Not until you’re stable.”

  “This is how you can help me.”

  Asher went pale. “What?”

  “You want to help me. This is how you can help me. You want me to be the person you knew? I need to go back.”

  “How? Were you… listening to me? Spying on me?”

  Ren froze. He ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky with sweat, and he pushed it from his face.

  “I heard you over the comm. I was in the ship.”

  “Purposefully?”

  “Kind of? That’s not the point.”

  “It kind of is the point, Ren. You spied on me.”

  “That doesn’t matter. If you do care about me, you’ll help me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Ren hadn’t considered that. He narrowed his eyes and slowed his manic pacing. “I’ll do what I have to, anything I have to.”

  Asher pointed at him. “You are out of control,” he said, enunciating every word. “Do you understand that? Do you get the position I’m in here? I’m trying to protect you!”

  “You are trying to keep me captive!” The words erupted from Ren’s mouth. As his power flickered, the lights dimmed, and the comm crackled. “I don’t need you to protect me. I am a star, more powerful than anyone on this ship.”

  Asher stepped back. His green eyes narrowed, and his mouth clamped into a firm line. He clenched his jaw, and, with his shoulders pulled back, he was every inch a soldier.

  Ren hated it.

  “Your behavior is erratic. You can’t sleep. You don’t eat. You dream and you put everyone on this ship at risk. You are falling apart, and everyone can see it but you.”

  “You think I can’t see it? You think I don’t feel it? I know, all right? I know.” Ren peered at his hands. He pulled his fingers toward his palm, then straightened them and spread them out as far as they could go. “I know all of that. I know and I’m trying. But you don’t understand.”

  “And I suppose Millicent does.”

  Ren snapped his head up. “What the stars does that mean?”

  Asher crossed his arms. He studied the door to the hallway intently, as if it held the secrets to the universe. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Ren frowned. His body trembled. “I want to go back to my village. I want to try to find my family. I want to find Liam. I need to know if everyone really is gone.”

  Asher met Ren’s pleading gaze with a hard, cold one of his own. “You can’t.”

  “Ash—”

  “Not while VanMeerten is looking for any excuse to throw you in a cell. You need to stay under her radar and keep your power under control. Am I clear?”

  Ren flushed, embarrassed, ashamed, and angry. “Crystal. And I think you should leave.”

  “Ren—”

  “Get out.” He bit out the words. “Or do I need permission for that, too?”

  The remaining color of Asher’s complexion fled save for two bright spots on his cheeks. He stood with his body in one long, taut line.

  “Fine. Report in an hour. Try to be presentable.”

  Asher spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. He slammed the door behind him with enough force that Ren’s night table rattled.

  The star throbbed in Ren’s middle, and he was livid down to his bones. He yelled, wordless, and a pulse of blue light flashed. The comm crackled, and his lights stuttered. For a moment, every system halted, frozen by Ren’s frustration. It was only a moment, then everything whirred back to life.

  He sank to his floor and buried his face in his hands.

  * * *

  After he calmed down, Ren washed, and, following Asher’s instructions, attempted to look presentable. Foregoing breakfast, he walked to the bridge and jerkily moved to his spot next to Rowan.

  She raked her gaze over him, and her mouth tightened. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with the slight pause in the ship’s systems about an hour ago, would you?”

  Ren glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I figured.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I’m glad you managed to rest. But you’re looking a little… defiant today. You may want to tuck that away before the feed goes live.”

  Ren didn’t answer. He lifted his chin and he heard Rowan sigh next to him.

  Millicent skipped up the stairs and, meek as always, stood next to Rowan. Her deference made Ren burn even more. Asher was the last to join them. He didn’t look at Ren. He kept his gaze on the far wall and when he turned to face the vid screen, his movements were abrupt and sure, soaked in military routine.

  Rowan glanced at them, but said nothing. The tension on the bridge was thick enough to cut with a saw. It would be apparent to VanMeerten and it would launch questions and give her enough reason to make the Star Stream turn around and go back to Mykonos Drift.

  But Ren was finished playing a part. He was a star host. He was a being imbued with the power of the stars. He was more than this body. He would not apologize for his existence any longer.

  The screen blinked into life. In her uniform as always, VanMeerten sat at her desk. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and there was no indication she had moved since the last time Ren had seen her. She could very well be as nonhuman as Ren. He had no proof she wasn’t.

  “I trust you are all well,” she said, tenting her fingers and peering down at them from the end of her pointed nose.

  Unflinching, Ren met her gaze. He didn’t speak, but she raised her eyebrow at him and her lips curled.

  “Everything is very well,” Rowan said. “As you can see, Ren has rested and is looking better. His power is under control, and Millicent is adjusting to crew life.”

  “He is over space sickness in one day? That’s impressive. In my experience, it takes closer to a week.”

  “It was a mild case, and our medic is second to none.”

  “I see. Well, if there are no concerns, then I will check in again tomorrow.”

  On the screen, VanMeerten reached to close the connection, but before she could, Asher stepped forward. He blocked Ren’s view of the general. All Ren could see was the strong line of Asher’s back and the symbol of the rising Phoenix, wings outspread, flames wreathed around the bird’s talons, on the top of his bicep.

  “Actually, I have an incident to report.”

  Rowan cut her gaze to Asher. She seemed concerned, scared, and confused.

  “Ash,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “Telling the truth,” he said.

  Ren couldn’t see VanMeerten’s face, but he could imagine how she appeared as her features took on a predator-like expression. She was hungry for any reason to lock Ren away for the rest of his natural life—u
ntil she had use for him.

  “Ren has nightmares,” Asher continued. “He has nightmares and panic attacks and he puts us at risk. He has attempted to vent the ship on one occasion. On another, the oxygen began to fail.”

  “Ash!” Rowan barked.

  The words lanced through Ren like a sword; the betrayal bit deep into his flesh. His mouth fell open. Asher kept his eyes fixed on the screen.

  “Why have you not reported this sooner?”

  “Because I was giving the subject the benefit of the doubt. I was attached to him, but I cannot remain quiet any longer. He obviously cannot handle the environment here and he is putting us all in danger.”

  Ren recoiled from the impersonal language. Asher spoke in the past tense. He “was” attached, as if he wasn’t now. Ren had known the end was coming, but to hear it, to experience it, in front of the woman who wanted him locked away and in front of his friends was more than he could bear. Part of him wanted to shrivel up and die, but another part of him, the part intimately connected to the star, that part of him raged.

  “I see. Captain Morgan, I believe this experiment of allowing the subjects into space has failed. Come back to Mykonos immediately.”

  Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “No. The Corps does not dictate my business. I have made a commitment to see this supply run through and I will not have my reputation sullied because of a snit fit between my brother and Ren.”

  “Do you not agree that the subject is a danger?”

  “He’s about as dangerous as anyone on this ship. I have a pulse gun and know how to use it. Ollie easily is the strongest. Pen could poison us. A teenage twig from a dust-hole planet is merely one of many threats.”

  “So you do believe him a threat? A weapon?”

  Rowan opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut. VanMeerten had twisted her words. Rowan couldn’t backtrack.

  Ren, however, had heard enough. He was through with others deciding his fate. He was taking control of this situation—his status be damned. He pushed Asher out of his way and stood in front of VanMeerten.

  “I want to go home,” Ren said, his voice even, his tone sharp as steel.