by F. T. Lukens
Asher didn’t move, but Rowan knuckled her eyes in exasperation.
“Mother, we’re dealing with something you don’t seem to understand.”
“Who do you have in custody?” Asher asked.
“Don’t answer,” VanMeerten snapped. “That’s need-to-know, and a deserter doesn’t need to know.”
Rowan threw up her hands. “Mother—”
“Rowan, please, don’t do anything rash.” Councilor Morgan picked up her own wine glass. “I know it’s been a tough few weeks for the both of you. Please find a nice spot to rest. I’ll send you the credits to cover the cost, of the whole crew even, for you to have a nice relaxing vacation.”
“A vacation? Are you cogging—”
“Cut it off,” Asher said, waving his hand to Lucas. “Cut it off.”
The screen went dark. Ren pulled out of the systems and hurried through the entranceway to Asher’s side.
“Well,” Lucas said with false cheer, “at least they don’t hate each other anymore. That’s something, right?”
Rowan looked to the ceiling. Asher shook his head and sighed.
“Don’t do anything rash,” Rowan muttered, echoing their mother’s words. “A vacation. A vacation! And offering to pay for it! Who does that woman think I am? I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen! I don’t need her credits!” She wagged her finger in Ren’s face. “We’re going to Perilous Space. We’re going to find your brother. And we’re going to stop Millicent. I swear to the stars, a vacation!” Rowan stalked off, yelling over her shoulder. “I’ll tell the others!”
Lucas shot to his feet and followed, loudly talking about coordinates and space routes and the estimated time to arrival.
Asher leaned hard against Ren’s side. “I feel a headache coming.”
“Come along, then.” Ren threaded their fingers and gently tugged Asher off the bridge and down the hallway.
* * *
Asher closed the door behind them and leaned against it, allowing his head to fall back against the metal. “Finally, we’re alone.”
Ren smiled. “Too much?”
“My mother is always headache-inducing, not to mention the general. Also, Darby talks more than Pen and Lucas combined. Once you get her going she won’t stop.”
“Darby is something.”
“She is. You didn’t tell me she tried to steal the Star Stream out from under you.”
“I was kind of passed out on the deck and pretended to be a ship. Not my most brilliant moment and not something I’d want to share with the cute guy who likes me.”
Asher ducked his head and laughed. “You forget that I met you in a cell. I’ve seen it all, and you’re not going to scare me off.”
Ren sobered. “Thank you.” He shucked off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “Thank you for what you said to your mother. I needed to hear that.”
“You’re not going to scare me away, Ren. I’m with you.” Asher crossed the room and placed his large hands on the jut of Ren’s hips. He rested his forehead against Ren’s, and his green eyes fluttered closed. “It’s going to take much more than a little freaky science-magic and glow-action to scare me away.”
Ren looped his arms over Asher’s shoulders. “And I’m with you. Always. I messed up before, but not again. You’re all I have.”
Asher huffed. “That’s not true. I think Rowan likes you more than she likes me. Ollie certainly does. And Darby is in awe of you.”
“Rowan would fight the universe with her bare fists for you; don’t start.”
Chuckling, Asher nuzzled his nose along the line of Ren’s jaw up to his ear. “She might.” He kissed the line of Ren’s cheekbone.
Ren let out a stuttered breath. “She would.”
“You too are scarily alike. Maybe that’s why I fell for you.” Asher’s grip on Ren’s waist tightened. “Do you miss your family? Do you miss Erden?”
“No,” Ren lied. He missed his brother, but that was no secret. Sometimes, in the night, when memories filled the spaces in his head, Ren missed the simplicity of the village: the sense of knowing where he belonged; the structure and familiarity of the homes and the lake and the work; the seemingly petty village politics. He missed his mother—the person he had thought she was, not the one he knew now. He missed the secret visions of his father, the man he’d never met. He missed the small moments when his stepfather treated him like a son. He missed Jakob, the brash naïve boy who carried himself like royalty, and he missed the man he’d become, the protective and supportive friend. He missed Sorcha, the beautiful girl with the spine of steel, the fiery leader he’d left behind to rule. “No, I always wanted to be in space and here I am. I may miss a few things, like the smell of the earth after the rain and the sunrise over the lake. But I’m happy the Star Stream is my home now. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“You’re my home.”
The sound of that was small and vulnerable, and Ren’s heart ached. He tucked Asher closer in his arms, and slid one hand into the thick strands of Asher’s blond hair. “I’m tired. Let’s sleep.”
Asher nodded. “Good plan.”
“Come on.”
They dressed for bed and climbed into the small bunk together. Asher curled on his side and Ren spooned around him. His arm wrapped around Asher’s body; his palm pressed against Asher’s chest so the steady beat of his heart was beneath Ren’s hand.
Ren kissed Asher’s nape as Asher pulled the blanket over them. Asher fell asleep quickly. Ren stayed awake, measuring the passage of time by Asher’s heart beats and the small snoring sounds he made when he turned his face into the pillow. Ren never wanted to move. He never wanted to be anywhere else ever again except in this bunk on this ship with his past firmly behind him and his future ahead, uncertain and frightening, but thick with potential in the promises of Asher’s kisses and the faith of the crew. Even without that, Ren was content to lie there, in the questionable softness of the bunk, with his back pressed against the metal wall and his feet sticking out the other end of the blanket and his arm trapped beneath Asher’s body so fingers were slowly becoming numb. Ren could become used to this and he would revel in the magnificent predictability of an unextraordinary life.
This is what Ren wanted: a soft place to land at the end of the day, Asher right beside him, and all the domesticity and routine and happiness of a life filled with love and certainty.
He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped and hoped and hoped it was possible.
10
“We’ll be close to Perilous Space soon,” Lucas said, plopping into a chair at breakfast. “There is a debris field a few hours out, and the prison is beyond that.”
After three days of uneventful travel, knowing their destination was so close spiked Ren’s anxiety. He sipped his coffee, and Asher rubbed his back. Asher sopped up egg with his toast as his palm swept up and down Ren’s spine. Ren took comfort in the familiar touch and consciously eased the tension from his shoulders.
They had a semblance of a plan. The specifics were hazy at best, but they’d get close enough for Ren to create a blueprint of the prison and go from there. Asher and Rowan had scoured the archives they could access, and Ollie and Darby had made plans which involved weapons and bombs that Ren hoped they didn’t have to use. Penelope ordered Ren to have daily check-ins regarding his wound and his fatigue. With regular use, Ren’s muscles had stopped seizing and constantly feeling weak, but he was far from one hundred percent. Exhaustion was a constant threat, and Ren spent most of his time either working out or sleeping.
He didn’t mind that much, since Asher joined him when he was able.
Penelope dropped a plate of food in front of him. “Eat,” she ordered. “You need the protein and the energy.”
Ren rolled his eyes fondly, but took the fork from Penelope’s outstretched fingers. Digging in, Ren chewed as the other
s filtered in. Darby shuffled by, barely lifting her feet, with her hair standing on end, and wearing pajama pants with little dogs on them, obviously Penelope’s. Lucas stifled a laugh, and Darby mustered a glare that was tempered by the picture of a tiny barking dog on her shirt.
Asher pulled his hand away, laced his fingers over his empty plate, and put his elbows on the table. Ren missed the warmth of his touch, but he couldn’t be greedy. He’d spent the last three days in Asher’s bunk, napping and exploring all the ways they fit. It was the most corporeal he’d felt in weeks. His consciousness was firmly within his body, and the ship was merely an occasional echo in his head. It was wonderful.
Smiling dreamily, Ren shivered as someone passed behind him; their touch whispered over the base of his skull. He snapped his head around to find… no one.
“You okay?” Asher asked.
Ren squinted, confused. “Yeah. I’m fine, I just thought…” he trailed off. He shook off the phantom touch. “Nothing.”
Asher raised an eyebrow, but went back to sniping with Lucas and Ollie.
Ren snatched Asher’s toast crust and popped it in his mouth. As nervous as he was about approaching Perilous Space, he was excited as well. Soon he’d find Liam, and then they could focus on their future—the crew’s, his with Asher’s, Liam’s as well.
A thought caressed the back of his mind, a fleeting murmur that was not his own. He jerked in his seat. “What did you say?”
The room was quiet. “Ren?” Asher asked.
A new ship is approaching. Older model. It doesn’t look like one of the Corps.
Ren’s ran a hand over his head. “Did you say something to me?”
“No, Ren, we haven’t said anything.”
“Is there another ship out there, Lucas? I swear I thought I heard something.”
Lucas shook his head slowly. “Not that I saw before I came down here. I would’ve seen it. Are you picking it up on the sensors?”
Ren bit his lip. “I’m not in the ship.”
“Are you sure?”
Ren gave Lucas a pointed look.
“Well! You tend to do weird things. I don’t know.”
A wrinkle appeared between Asher’s eyebrows. Ren absently smoothed it away with the pad of his finger, then dropped his hand to his lap.
“I’m fine. I just…”
I wonder what they’re doing all the way out here. They don’t belong.
Don’t worry. I doubt it’s anything exciting.
Ren stood abruptly. “Did you hear that? Tell me you heard that!”
The wrinkle deepened. Darby’s wide eyes and Penelope’s open mouth told Ren otherwise. They didn’t hear it. What was happening? There had to be a ship. Ren jumped into the sensors and raced through the wires. He pinged outward, but there were no ships and no communications in the area, only the beginnings of the rings of debris. Ren raced to find Rowan in her quarters, but she wasn’t on the comm system, or on a data pad.
Asher took Ren’s hand. “Ren?”
“I’m in the sensors on purpose. And Lucas is right, there are no ships.” Ren slotted back into his body. Confusion and fear formed a knot in his stomach. “I’m… I’m going back to bed.”
He scrambled out of the common area, leaving his dirty dish on the table, and stumbled toward Asher’s bunk. He was hearing things. He was stressed. He was tired. He hadn’t eaten well. He wasn’t slipping. He couldn’t be slipping again. Millicent wasn’t there. She was off courting disaster on drifts, and he’d been securely in his body for the last several days. He stretched his fingers and curled them toward his palm. He sat heavily on the bunk and counted his heart beats, inhaling and exhaling, feeling his lungs fill and expand, then empty. Running his nails over his scalp, Ren dropped his head in his hands.
“Please don’t be slipping. Not now.” He was on the verge of panicking. He could feel it, crawling into his throat, tightening around his neck. Sweat formed at his temples and nape. His heart raced.
The door opened, and Ren startled.
Asher held out his palms. “Hey,” he said, shutting the door behind him, then sitting next to Ren on the bed. “What’s going on?”
Do you sense that? There’s one of us nearby.
Ren clapped his hands over his ears. He didn’t want to worry Asher, but he’d learned that keeping things bottled up was worse for him than telling Asher the truth.
“I’m hearing things,” he whispered. “And it’s not another ship or any of the crew sending messages.”
Asher made a low noise. “Are you stressed?”
Ren’s shoulders hunched near his ears, and the food he ate a few minutes ago swirled in his stomach. “Yes, of course.”
“Are you panicked?”
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s coming from the voices.” Ren dropped his hands and ran his palm up and down his thighs; the rough fabric of his trousers chafed against his skin, grounding him. “The voices aren’t a symptom of my panic attacks. But apparently they’re a trigger.” His breath hitched.
“It could be a new symptom, Ren. Despite the rest we’ve had the past few days, you’ve been running nonstop since you woke up. You were inside the ship for weeks. You’re fatigued. You might be feeling a few strange aftereffects.”
“Maybe,” Ren said, unease an unpleasant thrum beneath his skin. “You’re not wrong.”
Asher sighed. “Let’s take a nap.”
“We just woke up,” Ren said, lips tipping up into a half-smile.
Asher shrugged. “We didn’t sleep much the night before.”
“I’m not going to argue with a nap.”
“Good. Shove over.”
Asher manhandled Ren into where he wanted him, with Asher on his back and Ren tucked along his side. Ren’s arm was slung over Asher’s waist; his head rested on Asher’s shoulder.
“When this is over,” Asher said, tugging up the blanket, “we’re buying a better blanket and a new pillow.”
Ren snorted. “I don’t disagree. Your pillow is horrendously lumpy.”
Asher dug his fingers into Ren’s rib and made him squirm closer. Ren let out a breathless laugh, and the curl of Asher’s lips into a smile did more to abate the clench of his heart than anything else.
“It is. We’ll have to buy at least three pillows for our bed. And a bigger blanket, since you steal.”
Ren made a half-hearted protest, but closed his eyes and reveled in the warmth and comfort of Asher’s body. “It’ll be the first thing we do. After we storm a prison, save my brother, and stop a powerful technopath.”
“Go to sleep, Ren.”
Ren snuggled in and, between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.
* * *
The hollow thud of metal debris hitting the hull echoed through the Star Stream, but that was not what woke Ren from his dead sleep. It was the sound hidden within, the voice of the debris’ occupant. The bed was empty except for Ren and a tangle of sheets. He swung his legs over the side and didn’t bother taming his hair or putting on shoes before he was out into the hallway. Vision blue, Ren ran to the bridge.
Do you think they know we’re here?
Sprinting through the hallway of the crew quarters, Ren passed the open arch to the common area. He didn’t stop when Asher and Darby called his name. He jumped up the steps to the bridge, ducking at the last minute.
He was already connected to the ship; his star bled out of the soles of his feet into the sensors and outward. With every step he took, they became louder, and his connection with reality stretched and dimmed. Voices. So many whispers in his ears. Talking. To each other. Not to him. Do they know he was here? Do they know he can hear them? Was he eavesdropping? Was he picking up something on the sensors?
No, this was different. This was… surreal.
Lucas swiveled in his chair. “Ren?”
&
nbsp; “What is that?” Ren asked, pointing to the debris that surrounded them.
“The debris field around Perilous Space. Where the last of the technopaths were destroyed in the war between them and the organization that became the Corps.”
Asher and Darby walked onto the bridge, and Asher clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“The voices.” Ren closed his eyes and opened himself. It was like a zipper being pulled, a revelation of power and energy, and, with that one action, the universe opened.
“Do you hear them?” Ren asked.
Ren turned his head to find Asher staring at him with wide eyes and a concerned frown.
“Ren? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Ren squinted. Asher was beautiful bathed in blue.
“Can you hear that?”
Asher’s lips turned down farther. “Hear what, Ren?”
“The voices. They’re talking.”
Lucas opened the shipwide comm. “We’re approaching Perilous Space. All crew to the bridge. We may be having a situation.”
Asher crowded close to Ren’s side and placed his hands on Ren’s shoulders; the action was slow and deliberate. “Ren, tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s… voices. I hear voices.”
Biting his lip, Asher asked. “Is this panic? What do you need?”
“No, this isn’t an attack. This is…” How could he explain it? Murmurs and absent thoughts whispered in his head. The hairs on his arm stood up, and he trembled. Power shivered down his spine. He moved to the vid screen and studied the shapes and scraps of metal and circuits and wires which floated around them. They were ships. Dozens of ships, their components singed and tortured, twisted hunks of metal that gently bumped the Star Stream’s hull. They spoke to him. It was them. It had to be. “I’m hearing someone else’s thoughts.” No. That wasn’t right. Not someone’s. Several different… beings.