by Rachel Aukes
“About the Matador…” Heid began. “Using it for food helps in the short-term, but I have an idea I’d like to discuss with you that may help with the growing number of refugees in the long-term. Remember the original generation ships that brought settlers to Alluvia?”
Vym’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this.”
Jed narrowed his gaze. “Hear her out.”
Heid continued. “I’ve already worked out the details. If we—”
Vym held up her hand, cutting Heid off. Something on her computer panel had drawn her attention, and she didn’t look up from it. “I believe Seda just surpassed Critch and you for talent in causing trouble. This hit the networks three hours ago.” She transferred her panel’s display to the wall display. Seda Faulk, the Rebus Station stationmaster, faced the camera. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, putting his artificial arm on display, no doubt to add to the effect.
This is Stationmaster Seda Faulk with a message to all people, citizens and colonists alike. One year ago, martial law was illegally enacted across the entire Collective by Corps General Ausyar of the Collective Unified Forces Armada in response to my discovery and release of wartime prisoners who’d not been released at the end of the Fringe Uprising of 2910. Holding prisoners after a war has ended is in direct conflict with Collective Rule Fourteen A. Yet, these prisoners, which included both citizens and colonists, were held, against their will, for over twenty years. The Collective has made no move to compensate these innocents for their loss.
Parliament has made multiple attempts to bury this truth. That Parliament no longer strives to uphold the Collective Rules means Parliament no longer represents the needs of the people. I have previously declared independence for Terra. I now represent all colonies. As of this date, November Fourteen, 3014, all colonies declare full independence from the Collective. Each colony will stand on its own, governing itself and establishing its own laws. Stationmasters will be selected by colonists. No colonists will participate in the false Parliament. If colonies wish to trade with other colonies or with Alluvia or Myr, trade agreements may be formed.
As of this moment, the Collective, including the Collective Unified Forces, has no authority over any colony. The colonies are now independent, free from taxation and military oppression. Should CUF forces attempt to exert force or control over any colony, all colonists have full rights and responsibilities to stand against their illegal invaders.
This declaration has been approved by representatives of each colony, including Terra, Darios, Spate, Playa, and Nova Colony. We do not speak for Alluvia and Myr. Attached to this broadcast is a copy of the colonies’ declaration of independence in all languages and all file formats.
The broadcast ended with a brief image of the torrent teardrop, followed by a display of all five colony flags.
“I’m surprised his broadcast hasn’t been pulled yet,” Jed said. “He must have a talented hacker to get that speech across all the networks.”
“He does,” Heid said. “Demes connected us. Her name’s Vapor. She’s done one or two projects for me.”
“As you can see, you need to get to Terra,” Vym said. “The colonies have just declared war against the Collective.”
“I’ll have the Arcadia loaded with the full nine yards,” Heid said as she pushed to her feet. She started to head to the door, then paused. “By the way, who was the Playa representative who signed the declaration of independence?”
Vym smiled. “Yours truly. I told you, I have no intention of ever losing my colony again.”
Eight
Different Directions
Tulan Canyon, Playa
Reyne
Reyne and Boden arrived at rendezvous point Alpha, and Throttle was nowhere to be seen. When they landed, Reyne strode into Vym Patel’s office. “Have you seen Throttle?”
The old woman frowned. “Why would I have seen Throttle? She went with you to Spate.”
Reyne collapsed in a chair. “She stayed with the ship when Boden and I went to meet Gin James. She was missing when we returned, and the CUF had a squad posted at the ship.”
Vym leaned forward. “Then we must assume she’s either a prisoner or dead. And if she’s a prisoner, she won’t be alive for long.”
Reyne’s lips thinned. “I need to find her.”
“I’ll put ears out around Devil Town, but it’s become more difficult to get information with martial law everywhere. Tell me your meeting with Gin went well, at least.”
“It never happened.” Reyne waved his hands. “Gin was executed by the new stationmaster.”
“There’s a new stationmaster?” Vym’s brows lifted in surprise. “Parliament has never moved so fast before.”
“It’s Axos Wintsel,” Reyne said.
“A Myrad?” Vym filled two glasses with liquor as she thought. “Why, he can’t be older than twenty-five, thirty at most. He’s far too young to be a stationmaster. What could Mason possibly achieve with a Myrad as a stationmaster?”
She handed him a glass, and he took a drink before speaking. “We haven’t heard a peep from Mason in over a year. Who’s to say he’s still pulling the Collective’s strings? Maybe he was ousted from power.”
“Mason—Gabriel Heid—is not someone you simply oust from power. The only way to accomplish that would be to kill him, and his death would splash across all the headlines. It’s when he’s gone quiet that I begin to worry the most. With nearly half the Founders missing, disavowed, or broken off from his control, I imagine he’s grown quite desperate to see his ideology made a reality.”
Reyne shook his head. “Mason’s ideology is insanity.”
“Is it?” Vym countered. “We all want a unified Collective.”
“His unified Collective would be under a despot’s rule. We want equality, not slavery.”
“But we all desire peace. He’s always seen himself as working for the greater good. He firmly believes that.”
“He still deserves to die for the thousands he’s killed.”
“I absolutely agree with you,” she said, downing the remainder of her drink. “And I hope to see the look on his face before I send him into the abyss.”
Reyne finished off his drink. “I’d like to make that happen.” He set down the empty glass and looked out the window. “It looks like Tulan Base is growing. How’s production?”
“We’re running at optimum production levels. It took over a month to print a second 3D printer using the first, but once that was built, we had one printer for printing munitions and supplies, and a second printer producing more printers. We’re now at twelve printers operating thirty hours a day, seven days a week.”
His brows rose. “That puts us well ahead of schedule. How are you managing to find enough labor for packaging and loading?”
“Heid brought over two hundred Nova colonists back with her. Over one hundred of them are helping out around here. Another eighty joined her crew, and the remainder are still recovering from their time on Nova Colony.” Then Vym smiled. “It seems Gabriela made quite a statement on the return trip. Evidently, there wasn’t a single drone left by the time she was finished. The colonists are quite taken with her.”
Reyne chuckled. “I bet that caught her father’s notice. Where’s she? I need to catch up with her.”
“She’s on her way to Terra.”
“Terra? Why’s she going there? It’s too risky. Ausyar has an entire armada in orbit over Rebus Station.”
Vym held up her hands. “She and a few Nova colonists worked out a plan. It’s better if she tells you it herself.”
Reyne frowned. “I can’t go to Terra. I need to stay here in case—when—Throttle arrives.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Vym asked.
“Heard what?”
“Seda Faulk declared independence for the fringe. He stated every colony has the right to govern itself.” She inhaled deeply. “It made quite the headlines.”
“I can imagine. If
Seda didn’t have a bulls-eye on his back before, he sure has one now. I take it he and Sixx made it back to Terra?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t receive any update on how their trip to Myr went.” She tapped a finger on the table. “You’re doing Throttle and the Fringe Liberation Campaign no good here. The Campaign has escalated, and Rebus Station has become a warfront. The Arcadia is loaded with everything we’ve got, but Heid is still young. And Critch can be rash—he needs you there to balance him. The Campaign needs you there. There’s nothing you can do for Throttle from here, Aramis. I promise, I’ll send in people I can trust to Spate to find out what happened. I’ll send word the moment I hear something.”
He thought for a long, agonizing moment before abruptly pushing to his feet. “Okay, then. I guess I’m off to Terra. It’s only Boden and me on the Gryphon right now, so if you happen to have any torrents ready to go fight, I can take a dozen.”
“I’ll have a dozen eager torrents on your ship within the hour.”
He strode from Vym’s office without so much as a goodbye. Once he left, his pace slowed before he stopped. He braced against the wall to keep from collapsing. Tears welled in his eyes, and he clenched his fists.
He’d convinced himself Throttle had somehow avoided the CUF and would be here waiting for him. That she wasn’t here meant the CUF had her. He knew the odds of ever seeing her alive again were infinitesimally small, but he refused to give up.
He had to head to Terra, but as soon as he was finished there, he’d search every nook and cranny in the Collective until he found his daughter. God have mercy on anyone who got in his way.
Nine
Atmo Burn
Devil Town, Spate
Throttle
Throttle woke with a jolt in the middle of the night. She could’ve sworn she heard the door open, but she could see nothing in the darkness.
When someone touched her hand, she nearly tumbled out of bed.
“Sh,” a little girl whispered. “They’re always listening.”
“Lily?” Throttle asked softly. “Is that you?”
The girl didn’t answer, though Throttle suspected she was nodding.
“My father said your father killed my grandmother. Is that true?”
Throttle frowned, not quite sure how best to respond. The wrong answer could send running the only hope Throttle had of escape. She decided to answer simply and honestly. “Yes.”
“Did you know her?”
Throttle shook her head. “No. I only heard stories about her.”
“Was she like my father?”
Again, Throttle struggled for the right answer. “Yes. I suppose she was.”
A long silence followed. “Then, your father can’t be that bad.”
Throttle nearly smiled. “No, he’s not bad at all. He’s a pretty good guy.”
“I saw what my father did to my mother.”
“What did he do?”
Silence blanketed the room for several seconds before she answered softly, “I don’t want him to do that to me.”
Throttle heard the little girl pad across the floor, and the door opened to a dimly lit hallway. After the door closed, Throttle lay in bed reliving their short conversation over and over. She was never quite sure what to make of it until Lily snuck into Throttle’s room the next night, and the five nights after that.
Throttle walked across the room with Qelle’s help. It was the sixth day in a row Axos and Qelle had stopped by Throttle’s room—the sixth day Axos had turned on, and then off, her spinal implant. Each day, she opened up a little more to him. The arrogant stationmaster was so sure of his superior intelligence that he fell for Throttle’s change of heart hook, line, and sinker.
Though, she had to admit, giving someone the power to walk was pretty damn persuasive.
“Excellent work. Now, try it on your own,” Axos said. “Qelle, release her.”
Qelle let go of Throttle’s arm and stepped back.
Throttle wobbled, and nearly fell on the first step. Each step after that was slow and tentative. It took her nearly five minutes to walk the room. Once she completed a full circle, she looked up and grinned.
“You did it,” Axos said.
Throttle took another step, but tripped on the rug and fell to her hands and knees. “Damn it.”
Qelle rushed over to help her.
“Get away from her!” Axos stormed, knocking his chair over.
Qelle cowered in the corner.
Throttle remained on her knees, keeping a wary eye on Axos in the tense silence that followed. Qelle made herself as small as possible.
Axos reset the chair and took a seat. “Give it time, Halit,” Axos said, as though he hadn’t just had an outburst. “You’ve made great progress this week. At this rate, you could walk the station on your own within a month or two. Imagine Reyne’s face if you walked up to him.”
Throttle gave him a thoughtful look. “I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I don’t know where he is. He came to Spate with me, but I haven’t heard from him since we split.”
“I know,” Axos said. “But I think that once your legs get stronger, you can reach out to him. Perhaps call him to come pick you up.”
She stared at her legs, then back up at Axos, and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I could do that.”
He smiled. “I think we’ve made good progress. How would you like to have full use of your legs tonight?”
She beamed. “I’d like that.”
“Enjoy the evening.” Axos stood to leave.
“Can I get my clothes back?” Throttle asked, then added, “If it’s not too much to ask, I mean. I feel a bit naked in these hospital gowns.”
“I had those rags burned.” He looked her up and down. “I imagine you’re about Qelle’s size. She’ll bring you something to wear.”
Qelle nodded from where she stood in the corner.
“Thank you,” Throttle said, but Qelle made no comment.
Axos left with Qelle trailing behind him.
Throttle plopped down on the bed and ran her hands down her legs, savoring every sensation. Every few minutes, she’d stand, walk a few steps, and then rest again.
Some time later, Qelle arrived with dinner.
“Hello, Qelle,” Throttle said with a welcoming tone. She’d learned to treat the mouse gently, and Qelle had let down her guard. Throttle, on the other hand, knew to never let her guard down around the other woman. Axos had picked a woman with a naturally subservient personality, and he terrified Qelle. Throttle had no doubt Qelle went to her master each night after visiting Throttle to tell him everything.
“You doing okay?” Throttle asked.
“I’m fine. And you?” came Qelle’s auto-response.
Throttle didn’t answer, and Qelle didn’t seem to expect her to. The woman set the tray down at the foot of the bed, lifted the bag she’d carried over her shoulder, and pulled out a bunch of iridescent blue material. “You’re a little smaller than me. I think this dress will fit you.”
Throttle cringed inwardly as she reached out and took the dress. “Thanks, I love it.”
“How about you try it on? If it doesn’t fit, I can find something else.”
Throttle turned her back to Qelle, slipped off the hospital gown she wore, and slipped the gown over her head. She tugged up the low neckline. She felt even barer in this than she had in the hospital gown. She remembered that her legs worked, and she stood to finish dressing. The slinky gown slid down to her ankles, and she took a moment to savor the sensation of delicate fabric brushing against her skin.
Qelle seemed disappointed. “It’s a bit loose and a bit long, but it’s the smallest I had.”
“It’s perfect,” Throttle said, reaching out and clasping Qelle’s hand. “Thank you.”
Qelle beamed, and then she looked down. “I’m afraid I had no undergarments or shoes that would fit you.”
“It’s okay. This is better than before.”
“You l
ook nice. I could do your hair sometime if you’d like.”
“I’ll think about.” Throttle tried not to roll her eyes. What’s next? Have pedicures together?
“Oh, I have your dinner,” Qelle said, turning her attention back to the tray.
“Is it okay if you leave it?” Throttle asked. “I’m hungry, but it’s just that I’m so excited to have time with my legs, I don’t know if I could keep food down right now.”
Qelle looked at the food as though trying to figure out what to do.
Throttle chuckled. “It’s not like I could kill myself with a spoon.”
“Of course not. It’s just that it’s lights out in another hour. I don’t know if I can make it back tonight. Your room will smell if I leave the tray here all night.”
“I’ll be fine,” Throttle said.
“All right,” Qelle said. “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’re anxious to walk around your room more.”
“You’ve got that right,” Throttle said.
As Throttle watched Qelle leave, she felt sorry for the woman. Qelle Delta must have a horrific life, but there was nothing Throttle could do for her; not without risking her own life.
For the next hour, Throttle took small steps. In between mild exercises, she nibbled at her food and sipped her drink. When the lights went out, Throttle found herself in total darkness. She sat on the bed and reached out until she found the bowl of black hash.
Axos Wintsel was a Myrad. He never ate hash, let alone would have any idea it had more uses than for food. It was also the hair color of choice across the fringe, used to cover the most resistant grays. Throttle grabbed a handful of the hash and ran it through her light blonde hair. Without a mirror, she moved slowly to make sure she covered everything without staining her face. Her palms would be stained, but nobody looked at those. By the time she was finishing, the door unlocked and opened.
A young girl’s silhouette stood in the doorway.