by F. T. Lukens
Ren stayed on the floor for a long moment. Then he opened his eyes, shook his hand from the fabric of his shirt, and pressed his fingertips to the floor. He slid into the ship, cast off his body, and stayed in the freedom of the systems as long as he could.
* * *
The defiance that had marked Ren’s appearance in front of VanMeerten the day before had tempered into a feeling less fierce, less incendiary—a slow-burning stubbornness. He yearned to go home, to find Liam, to see his village, but those desires had shifted to the back of his mind after his conversation with Asher that morning. His immediate thoughts centered on other matters, such as staying sane without an anchor.
However, he lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes when the general appeared on screen.
For the first time since the check-ins had started, VanMeerten appeared human. A few flyaway strands of her iron-gray hair escaped her bun. She had a worry line between her eyebrows, and, while her medals still shined, there was a crease in her uniform.
It didn’t seem like a victory. Ren didn’t look much better, wearing his sleep clothes, barefoot, hair mussed. Their confrontation had taken a toll on both of them. Ren wondered what that meant.
“Good morning,” Rowan said from her position between Ren and Millicent.
“Hello, Captain Morgan. I trust everyone is well.”
Rowan was thrown by the politeness. “Sure?” she answered.
VanMeerten nodded. “Good.” She lifted a manila folder from her desk and shuffled a few papers. “Corporal Morgan has reported that the male star host has been experiencing vivid nightmares bordering on hallucinations and has unconsciously caused failures in several different systems aboard your ship. He shows symptoms of mental decompensation. He is an active danger, though unintentionally, and could become a substantial threat if his connections with technology continue. Is this correct, Corporal?”
“Yes.” Asher didn’t hesitate.
Ren bristled; his body went tense. He bit his lower lip to keep from lashing out, from saying anything stupid to get him in more trouble.
“And your recommendation is to remove the subject from an artificial environment?”
“Yes. For a while. A break from technology may provide a necessary reset.”
Ren stiffened. His eyes wide, he glared at the side of Asher’s head. Was he recommending Ren be removed from the Star Stream? Did he want Ren to be locked away? Like in the iron cell at the citadel? The star in Ren’s chest pulsed, and the warmth of it spread down his limbs.
“Captain Morgan,” VanMeerten said, tenting her fingers and leveling her hard stare at Rowan. “Does your offer stand of taking the star hosts to their home planet?”
Ren’s mouth dropped open, and he whipped his head around to stare at Rowan.
Rowan blinked. She cast a glance in Ren’s direction; her eyebrows were pulled together. “Excuse me?” she asked, addressing the general.
“Can you take them back to Erden?” VanMeerten said, punctuating each word.
“Yes. Yes, after we finish our current trajectory, we’ll plot a course and—”
“No. It must happen immediately.”
Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “I think I’ve been clear about how I feel in regard to the Corps interfering in my business.”
“I understand, Captain.” VanMeerten said, putting down the papers. “I will have a regiment meet you at your destination.”
“Wait,” Rowan said. “What?”
“To take the male into custody.”
“Explain.”
“If Corporal Morgan’s assessment is correct, then the threat is imminent. Either the star host goes back to the dirt to reset, as the corporal has endorsed, or we take him to the prison near Perilous Space and monitor his progress there.”
Cold fear washed down Ren’s body, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking. He knew that he had pressed last time, but he didn’t think he’d done so much damage. He had touched a nerve, exposed VanMeerten’s fear, and now he paid the price. Ren shrank back and pressed his shoulder blades against the wall.
Rowan’s jaw worked. “That seems a bit of an overreaction.”
VanMeerten smiled, predatory, with the scar on her cheek prominent. “You said yourself he was a danger.”
“But—”
VanMeerten placed her hands on her desk and loomed. “Either the planet or the prison. It’s your choice, Captain.”
Rowan tapped her foot and tugged her braid, then crossed her arms over her chest. Using their eyes, mouths, and eyebrows, she and Asher shared an intense silent conversation, which Ren couldn’t decipher. For a strained moment, Ren thought Rowan would choose her job over him, especially given the influence from Asher. “It’s not much of a choice, is it?” she finally replied. “I’m not going to condemn Ren to another cell.”
“Very well. Your decision is confirmed and will be documented.”
“I’ll have our pilot plot a course to Erden.”
VanMeerten didn’t acknowledge the statement. She cut the video feed. The screen went blank.
The tense atmosphere relaxed as if a taut string had been cut and the ends were fluttering to the ground. Ren sagged against the wall. Rowan bowed her head, and Asher rubbed a hand over his brow. They didn’t speak. Ren silently thanked the stars for Rowan.
“She didn’t ask about me,” Millicent said, softly.
Rowan laughed, breathless. “No, no she didn’t. I think that’s a good thing.”
Millicent’s mouth turned down at the corner, but she shrugged and swayed off the bridge.
“We’re going to have a talk,” Rowan said to Asher. “About what the hell you’re up to.”
Asher shifted uncomfortably. “It got him back to his planet,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “It’s what he wanted.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs.
In disbelief, Ren watched Asher leave.
“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but I think Asher just manipulated a high-ranking military official to make sure you get to go back home.”
Ren’s mouth went dry.
“I think he manipulated me, too,” Rowan said, smiling softly. “Brothers, huh?”
Ren took a long moment to answer. “Thank you, Captain.” His body trembled, and he didn’t have the strength to move from the wall. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, string bean. We’ll figure it out.” She tapped her fingertips against her mouth. “We’ll have to. I need to talk to Lucas.” She mustered a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. On her way out, she ruffled Ren’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”
Ren was certain she said it more for her own benefit than his. But it was a nice sentiment. They’d figure it out. In the meantime, he was going home. He was going home.
The thought was a bright spot amid the dark, and Ren clung to it.
* * *
Ren drifted from the bridge to his room to engineering and finally found himself in the cargo bay.
Millicent was not there but Ollie was. He glanced up from where he moved crates around; his brown eyes glinted under the naked light that hung above the expansive room. Ollie’s muscles flexed under his brown skin as he dragged a heavy cargo box across the floor. The sound of scraping was loud and harsh, until he paused near where Millicent kept her rug.
Ollie beckoned to Ren. “Hey, Ren. Got this box in a trade. Might be of interest.”
Ren didn’t think it would be, but Ollie was the first person to interact with Ren since the conversation on the bridge. Ren needed companionship. Maybe it would take the focus off the thoughts in his head and the whispers of the ship around him.
Ren descended the stairs and stood by the crate.
Using a crowbar, Ollie popped off the lid; the wood clattered to the floor. A cloud of dust floated up, and Ren cough
ed and waved it out of his face.
“Did you know when you traded for it that it was full of junk?”
Ollie shrugged but didn’t answer. He sifted through the parts and pieces of broken tech as Ren peered over his massive shoulder.
Ollie straightened and clapped his hands together to brush off the sawdust.
“Go on then,” Ollie said, gesturing at the broken bits of circuitry.
“Go on what?”
“To practice. Figured you and Millie might want a few objects to mess with other than Pen’s mixer.”
Ren swayed closer to the mess.
“So you did know what it was.”
Ollie’s smile was small but it was there.
“If you got these back on Mykonos, why wait so long to share them?”
Ollie shrugged again; his mouth straightened into a flat line. “You want them or not? If you can fix them, we can turn them around and sell them for a profit.”
Ren thought he should stop questioning motives and take the gesture for what it was: a gift of distraction, born out of concern and thoughtfulness.
Ren pulled out a few circuit boards. “Thanks, Ollie.”
“No problem, Ren. Anything to help.”
Ren clutched the circuitry to his chest. The metal and wire caught on the fabric of his shirt and bit into the skin of his hands. “No, really,” he said, throat tight. “I appreciate it.”
Ollie dropped a large hand on Ren’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re welcome, Ren. I know things may seem like dirt right now, but ride it out and you’ll be fine. You’ll never be lost as long as you look to the stars.”
Ren nodded. “Did you learn that in all your years of traversing the cluster?”
Ollie laughed. “No. I read it in a book of maps Lucas had. Doesn’t mean it’s not true though.”
“I’m not so sure, Ollie. Looking at the stars only made me lonelier and more lost.”
“Maybe you weren’t looking at the right angle.”
Ren toed at the corner of the box; his boot broke off a splinter.
Ollie crossed the bay to move another crate. “Back to work for me,” he said, as he picked up his clipboard. “I need to prepare if we’re going to pull off what Rowan wants. Apparently, her reputation is at stake.” He grinned.
“Yeah, I’m… going to go work on these.”
“Come back and get more when you’re finished.”
“All right.”
Ollie waved over his shoulder as Ren ascended the stairs to the main part of the ship. He made his way to the common room, which was blessedly empty.
Settling on the end of the couch, Ren picked up the first of the boards and lost himself in work.
* * *
Ren was still there when time for the midday meal rolled around. Penelope was the first to breeze in and she gave Ren a light tap on his outstretched leg as she passed to begin fixing lunch. Asher was next, and Ren pretended to be busy with the circuit board, even though he had fixed it and its partner in about twenty minutes. He fiddled with the circuits; his eyes glowed blue. Asher stared at him but Ren ignored it.
Penelope engaged Asher in light conversation. She whipped up a quick midday meal. When she finished, she alerted everyone via shipwide comm. As Ren fiddled, the crew members shuffled in and sat in their usual places around the large table. A plate of sandwiches made with meat spread sat in the middle beside a bowl of a congealed noodles with vegetables. It was obvious their fresh supplies had run out.
Ren’s stomach turned at the thought of trying to eat anything. No one else seemed fazed.
“Not joining us, Ren?” Rowan asked as she bit into her sandwich.
Ren shook his head and kept his lips together in a firm line. Much to his relief, Rowan didn’t press. Instead, she leveled her gaze at Jakob.
“Have you heard the news?” she asked.
Jakob looked over his shoulder and then at the group. “Me?” he asked, pointing to his chest.
Rowan nodded.
“What news? Ren, what’s she talking about?”
Ren bit his lip.
“Asher, you tell them,” Rowan said, saving Ren from having to participate. He was grateful for that and uncertain how to report that his captors had granted him a small reprieve.
Asher snapped his head and stopped pushing his food around on his plate. He straightened, tugged at the collar of his uniform, and brushed out imaginary wrinkles.
“General VanMeerten has granted the request.” He pulled his shoulders back. Ren wanted to scoff at Asher’s transformation from friend to lapdog soldier. “To take you back to Erden.”
Jakob sat stunned. “We’re going back?” he asked, dropping his spoon on his plate. “You’re not joking? Are you? Because that would be cruel, Ash. Very cruel.”
“It’s not a joke. We’re going to Erden.”
Seeing the smile that broke over Jakob’s face was like watching the morning sun crest the horizon and throw sparkles on the lake. He bent his head, smiled at his plate, then glanced up and fidgeted. He picked up his bread and set it down. His cheeks flushed, and he laughed while rubbing a hand over his eyes.
Ren had never seen Jakob so excited he did not know what to do with his limbs. It was endearing.
“Did you hear, Ren? We’re going home.” The tone of awe was also new.
Ren nodded and forced a smile. “We are.”
“I… I… thank you,” he said to Asher. “Thank you. I don’t know how you convinced her, but thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Ren for threatening the Phoenix Corps and nearly getting himself thrown into the prison near Perilous Space.”
Jakob’s joy tempered. “You did what?” he asked quietly. “Ren, what?”
“I reminded VanMeerten what I’m capable of,” Ren said, lifting one shoulder in an awkward shrug. He set the circuits aside and threaded his fingers.
Jakob pointed his finger at Ren. “I said ask, not threaten. Are you addled? Stars, Ren, all they need is a reason.”
Ren crossed his arms. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am happy. But you didn’t need to poke a beehive.”
“What’s a beehive?” Lucas asked, coming into the room. He gave Penelope a kiss, then took his seat at the table.
“Seriously?” Jakob asked.
Lucas plopped a large serving of the noodles on his plate. They splattered and oozed into an unappetizing puddle. “What? Is it a duster thing?”
“Yes, it’s a duster thing.” Jakob rolled his eyes and shared a look with Ren that conveyed his disbelief.
“Oh, I saw that,” Lucas said. “I grew up in space, okay? I don’t understand the flora and fauna of your dirt.”
“I’m not even going to respond. There’s so much wrong with that,” Jakob said.
Ren smiled, but he stayed on his perch on the couch. No one seemed to notice that he was not joining in, or if they did, they didn’t comment.
“Mill,” Jakob said, “can you believe it? We’re going home.”
Millicent blinked her large eyes. “Home?” she asked.
“Yeah, to Erden. Ren… convinced them. Isn’t that great?”
“Oh, yes. I was there. I heard.” She took a bite of her bread. “But Erden isn’t my home.”
Everyone froze. Jakob cocked his head and tapped his fork against his plate in a nervous rhythm. He shot a look to Ren. Ren frowned, as confused as everyone else. Millicent didn’t talk much of her past before they’d met her on Mykonos. All Ren knew was she had grown up with the knowledge of what she was.
Asher leaned forward. “What do you mean? You were in the cell next to mine.”
“Yes,” she said. She took a bite from her sandwich and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She folded it. “I was in the cell next to yours, but I was brought there.” Millicen
t didn’t seem to notice how the crew hung on every word. She didn’t notice that Rowan stared and Asher clutched his fork so tightly it was beginning to bend. “I’m from the planet Crei.”
“How are we just learning about this?” Rowan demanded.
Millicent’s hazel eyes were wide and her face was pale. “No one has asked.”
“Then how in the hell did you end up on Erden with Asher?”
She sighed. “Because that is where Abiathar took me after he found me and offered me the chance to leave my planet and travel if I helped him. He promised me a prominent place among the drifts if I would use my gift in his service.”
After a moment of thick silence, of disbelief, Ren’s stomach dropped.
“You enlisted?” Jakob shouted. “You agreed to help that cog?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, voice never wavering. “He said he’d take me away from the factories and the smoke and the pollution and bring me to the stars. How could I say no?”
Jakob’s jaw dropped. “Ren, are you hearing this?”
“Yes,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Jakob jumped to his feet, sending his chair skidding behind him. “Doesn’t matter? Our village was destroyed. Our families are gone. Sorcha is gone. And she played a part.” He pointed a shaking finger at Millicent.
Ren placed his hands in his lap and tried to sort through his thoughts and feelings. He took a breath. “I know, Jakob. I’m sorry.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Jakob slammed his fist on the table; his plate clattered, and the water in his cup sloshed. He heaved a few breaths, and his body shook; the rest of the group stared in awkward and sympathetic silence.
“I need air,” Jakob choked on the words. He stalked out.
No one moved except Millicent, who took a bite of her sandwich unperturbed.
Rowan cleared her throat. “I think the bigger issue here is: What the stars was that insane old man doing on Crei in the first place?”
“Looking for star hosts,” Lucas said. “And finding them, obviously.” He jerked his chin toward Millicent, and his goggles slid crooked.
Millicent continued to eat her lunch.
“Or,” Asher said, “the threat against the drifts is bigger than we thought.”