by R. K. Thorne
“Cabin.” Adan plopped down into the pilot’s seat, deposited his coffee in the cupholder, pulled up the last shift notes, and hit several keys that began reconfiguring the workstation.
“Well, that’s what Xi said. I checked there. You didn’t answer.”
“Musta been asleep—”
“Sure you were. Do you know how loud I can knock?”
Adan narrowed his eyes in a way that made it clear he did know just how loud Kael could knock. “What’s this about, Theroki?”
Kael didn’t bother to hide his scowl this time. “Did you get the mission update from the commander?”
“Hmm, yeah. About that.” Adan swiveled his chair to face him and knitted his hands behind his head. “Look, I’m happy to come along and see Capital. Would be nice to see things not as a drone for once. But I don’t really need a babysitter, okay?”
Kael gestured at his chest, easily twice the size of the pilot’s. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?”
“I could see you tending babies.”
Kael’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Most childcare workers have less muscle mass.”
“What I’m saying is I can take care of myself.”
“Sure you can.”
“Hey, the outsystem was way tougher than a civilized place like Capital.”
Kael pursed his lips. “You know this isn’t about that.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Adan spun his chair around and enlarged the report, ready to drop the subject. Except that he kept talking. “Look, just because some drug went missing doesn’t mean I need some overzealous rookie stuck to me like dreck on my shoe just to impress the pretty commander.”
Kael grabbed the back of the pilot seat and swung a shocked Adan around, catching the spinning chair by the far armrest. Praise the Almighty for zero-g rated coffee mug lids that kept the hot black stuff inside. Kael leaned in, face inches from Adan’s.
“I am not an overzealous rookie.”
“This right here?” Adan held up a forefinger and wiggled it in the space between them. “Not exactly proving your point, hotshot.”
“I’m not the one making light of a death threat.” He didn’t back off. Not yet.
“I’m noticing you didn’t correct me on the ‘impress the pretty commander’ part.”
Kael forced himself to take a deep breath rather than crush the armrest into a twisted memory of its former shape. Dr. Taylor would be so proud. “I’m going to do my job. Whether you like it or not. It means more to me than your annoyance.”
Something flickered in Adan’s eyes. A bit of doubt? Bravado quickly covered it. “I’m sure between me and Xi we can handle it. Right, Xi?”
“Actually, I will appreciate an additional set of eyes, especially if you are not within the confines of the ship.”
Adan shook a playful fist at the ceiling. “Traitor. Look—I’m telling you, Theroki. I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.”
“I’m not a Theroki anymore.” Kael’s voice was quieter now and hard as steel.
Adan smirked. “Just cause she trusts you doesn’t mean I have to.”
Just when he knew Adan wouldn’t expect it, Kael straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “What is it you object to? Receiving help from a former ‘pirate,’ or the fact that someone thinks you need help at all?”
Adan’s lips twisted. “Can it be a bit of both?”
A huff of bitter laughter escaped Kael. “Well, last I checked, you weren’t the one giving the orders around here.”
“So?”
“So you got a babysitter whether you like it or not.”
Smirking to himself, Kael turned on his heel and headed off the bridge. He’d clearly have to plan ways to protect Adan without the pilot’s help. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be such a cakewalk after all.
He was going to need his own cup of coffee. Or something stronger.
Everything was a sea around her, midnight blue and deep. Some part of Ellen’s mind clenched in fear, but another part—the part of her out front, in command—leapt with excitement. Her fingers flexed in her sleep, searching, reaching, stretching.
Hungry.
Points of light sprang to life like stars, glorious and golden. Thin tendrils connected them, so fragile and tiny one could barely see them. But she knew they were there.
Oh, she knew.
Beyond seeing them, she could feel them. Like blood in her veins. Like her own heart beating. Like breath.
Once a Starbird, always a Starbird.
Her mind flew along the connections, soaring above the data, digging. Not even for anything in particular, just hungry. More information. More knowledge. The more she knew the more she might protect her world, her team…
Herself.
At the idea, something cracked. Some part of her mind screamed—but which? The sea around her shattered, panes of blue falling into a night deeper and darker, black and cold.
No, it couldn’t go. Not yet. Not so soon. She needed it, she needed it. Not yet, not so soon.
She needed it.
She woke with a gasp, reaching out into the dark, empty cabin. She froze. Tiny lights blinked green on the holodesk, not golden, and faint white stripes indicated the way to the bathroom. The darkness around her was now dotted with pale mint, orange, twinkling blue.
The golden connections, the midnight sea. All gone.
The silence, too, was gone, replaced by a constant, familiar hum that she couldn’t quite name.
She scrambled out of the bed, almost falling, stumbling to the porthole. The stars sparkled back at her, placid and timeless. Dispassionate and cold. The starscape was no comfort.
The cabin overheads flickered on, the bright lights scaring her back against the wall, eyes darting around in fear.
“Commander Ryu,” said a quiet voice.
Xi, she realized belatedly. And the hum—her ship. Audacity. She pressed the pads of her fingers to its cold metal walls, searching for balance.
“How many stars in the Andromeda Galaxy?”
“At last estimate, one trillion.”
“What is the temperature on Faros at—”
“It varies on average from a comfortable fifteen degrees Celsius to twenty-seven degrees Celsius.”
“What about—”
“Commander, may I suggest these?”
The rest of the lights dimmed, leaving only her punching bag and gloves lit. She hadn’t realized the lights could even do that.
Weakly, shaking, she straightened, her eyes fixed on the gloves. Some of the tension drained out of her.
Yes.
She staggered over, slipped her hand inside the first. Tightened her fist.
One day, Arakovic. One day.
She slipped on the second. Yes.
All the information she needed was right here.
Jenny was the first to arrive in the quiet, echoing cargo hold. She scanned the room before taking a deep, bracing breath and hitting the cargo hatch button.
Warm, humid air filtered through the contaminant field, hit her like a wet towel in the face, and wrapped around her as the ramp lowered. She failed to suppress a groan. Blasted, horrible place. And this was nothing compared to the heat on the ground. Thank God for armor cooling units.
Except she wasn’t going to be wearing one today. Her armor was packed in its case near her feet, along with extra armor for Adan. She tucked another stray red strand back and frowned down at her Utlis Sportswear–brand gear in annoyance—an aubergine soccer jersey and a charcoal tennis skirt, plus a simple silver breather. The air on Capital was usually very safe, or so they wanted you to believe, but it wasn’t worth taking any chances. Few did.
The clothes were of her mother’s more stylish tastes, not her personal choice. But since they planned on walking, they were likely to run into some fans, who’d be weirded out if they saw her in her armor. Or wouldn’t have noticed her. It would have been really, really nice to have hidden inside her hard metal shell, but that didn’t play into Patron Simmons’s plan.
People were supposed to know she was here. So she had to play her part. Her old part. Her old self. Like riding a bicycle, right?
A bicycle you hated.
“Happy to be home?” Josana tilted her head up on the catwalk that overlooked the hold. “I thought I’d be the one most eager to get off.” Her eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in a sneer.
“Kiss off, Josana.” She focused on ignoring Josana and walked back to the ladder on the far side where her pack waited. Capital was annoying enough without having to deal with Josana’s nonsense.
She must have been grumbling to herself as she checked the pack was secure, because she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. She didn’t notice anything really except that awful warm air invading, stealing away the crisp coolness of space.
“You okay?”
Jenny’s head snapped up. Adan was standing at the base of the ladder, one hand still on the railing, one eyebrow raised over those gorgeous, intelligent eyes crinkled with laughter. If only it wasn’t at her consternation. “Uh… yeah. Just checking my pack.”
“You seem pretty agitated for just checking your pack. Did I hear something about ‘blasted warm weather’?” Adan sidestepped to make room for Kael clomping down the ladder after him. Great—double the audience.
She ducked her head, blushing. Checked another strap. “Just not looking forward to this,” she muttered.
“The heat’s really not that bad. You get used to it.” He sidestepped again to the other side of her, eying her ministrations.
Her cheeks only grew hotter. As if it weren’t already warm enough in here. Yep, he doesn’t know. She had kept this secret a little too well.
“Although I grew up on a desert planet. Maybe I’m biased.” He shrugged.
Kael stopped at the base of the ladder, gazing out the cargo hatch with a whistle. You could just see the tops of the skyscrapers. “Me too. This seems like a wetter heat, though, don’t you think?”
“Capital is a tropical climate,” she said numbly. “At least here at the epicenter. But most of the population is settled on one of the many equatorial archipelagos.” Only at the very end of her ramble did she notice Adan glaring daggers at Kael. Kael, for his part, was ignoring the pilot. What the hell?
“Oh, yeah?” Adan finally glanced out the hatch now too, before resting his gaze on Jenny again. “You doing some reading on the mission?”
She wished she could have reveled in the fact that he was actually making small talk. If only the topic were more palatable. “I’ve, uh, been here before.”
“Really?” said Kael. “Climbing competitions?”
“You could say that,” she muttered.
“Corporal Utlis grew up here.” All three of them looked up to see Commander Ryu stopped on the catwalk above them. She leaned on the railing with both hands, eyes gazing out over the city skyline. “As I believe she’s told you, she’s a legend. Here and elsewhere.”
Jenny blushed harder. Her usual bravado had fled with the tropical wind. Capital always took her down a notch. Horrid place. She resumed fussing over her pack.
Ryu started down the ladder. “But especially here.”
Jenny finally risked raising her eyes. A mistake. Both men were staring at her. She swore, hefted it over her shoulder, and headed for the hatch.
“Did you know she was from Capital?” Kael was saying behind her.
“No.”
“Guess you never can tell, can ya?”
“I heard that,” she snapped, glaring back over her shoulder at them. Then she continued out through the barrier and into the heat. She ought to be glad they were surprised, she supposed.
But it was hard to be cheery on this stupid rock.
“Uncharacteristically pissed, too,” Kael observed.
“Agreed.”
Adan and Kael gradually caught up to her, their own packs over their shoulders, joining her on the platform just outside the cargo hatch. Kael stopped beside her, and Adan scooted over to the other. Was it her imagination, or was Adan trying to distance himself from Kael? Odd.
“Now you don’t see that in the outsystem.” Adan sucked in a huge breath, then let it out slowly.
The glorious splendor of Capital stretched before them. Begrudgingly, Jenny reminded herself to take a moment, to try to appreciate it, to see it through their eyes if she could.
Even if the core was rotten, the shell was sort of pretty to behold.
Sort of.
Their landing platform was several hundred feet in the air. Stretching before the Audacity were buildings as far as the eye could see, packed together in pillars of white, silver, ivory, and sky blue. Rich, grassy parks were the only breaks in the porcelain expanse. Palm-lined pools and canals glimmered turquoise as peacock feathers, winding from parks toward the ocean to the east, not a one of them naturally occurring. All of it a lesson in artifice. Skyscrapers dominated the skyline, stretching into low clouds that hung not much higher than their dock, maybe a hundred feet more above them. Lush plant life adorned levels and rooftops, breaking up the alabaster with strips of verdant jungle. Above them, the ship docks continued until the clouds obscured them.
“Faros has more concrete than sand at this point,” Kael breathed, “but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“A nice facade,” she admitted grudgingly. “Don’t let it fool you.”
Adan waved a hand at the view. “What could you possibly have against a place like this? Paradise.”
Her lips thinned. See if he thought the same thing as a noncitizen in a court of law. She dodged his gaze. “Paradise only for some.”
Josana strode up beside them breezily. “Don’t listen to her. It is paradise, and not just of the tropical kind. The mind rules here. Science, art, intelligence—all held in the highest regard.”
“Sounds pretty good to me.” Adan’s eyes had a dreamy light to them as he gazed out at the city.
“Only for some,” Jenny repeated again, more insistently this time.
Josana waved her off.
“What do you mean, only for some?” Kael leaned one arm on the railing, turning toward her.
Before she could answer, Josana cut in. “That’s nonsense. Our judicial system is beyond fair.”
Jenny rolled her eyes as she turned toward Kael. It was probably best if she just pretended Josana didn’t exist for the duration of this mission. Otherwise, she might have an aneurysm. Or murder the bitch. She held up her hand and rubbed two fingers against her thumb, as though rubbing old-fashioned bills of currency together.
The former Theroki frowned and mouthed the word money silently, one eyebrow raised.
She nodded and turned back, only to notice in the corner of her eye that Adan had slipped his hand around Josana’s waist. Jenny tried not to glower at them.
“I’m just so happy to be home.” Josana heaved an exaggerated deep breath of the tropical air. “Can you smell the coconut? And the plays, the productions, the installations—I have so much to catch up on! And the architecture. I can do nothing but bask in the beauty of human achievement for a while—”
Jenny couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, just kill me now,” she muttered, slapping a hand to her face.
“Now just because my status is so far above yours—”
“Your status as more fake than counterfeit dahkmas?”
Josana stopped and narrowed her eyes. “Envy is really not becoming on you. You should really work on that.”
“If you were any more full of it, you’d bubble over with bullshit. How about you work on that?” The words popped out before Jenny could stop them. Hmm, maybe glowering would have been better.
Kael chuckled. “Now there’s a mental image I didn’t need.” He glanced back at the ship. Looking for someone? Jenny almost snickered.
“It was either that or me vomiting over the side,” she said, cupping her hand to direct her voice only at the Theroki.
“In that case, I approve of your choice.”
&n
bsp; Josana couldn’t simply drop her gushing without protest, however. “You athletic types can be so rude. No respect for the finer aspects of society.”
Jenny rolled her eyes again and forced her anger down. “Thanks for reminding me so perfectly why I left. Kael, any idea where the commander wandered off to? I’m ready to get started. Are we missing anyone else?”
Kael’s eyes widened slightly. “Why are you asking me?”
She grinned at him. Because she knew he paid better attention to where Ryu was than anyone else. But she didn’t say that. “Cause you’re the ranking officer out here—and on this away mission. Didn’t you realize?” Of course, by ship seniority alone he would have never made lieutenant right off the bat. He did have the advantage of his prior Theroki experience, which was more military than her own training had been. But truth be told, she and Zhia had just been fairly sure they’d never get the poor bastard hooked up with the commander without an officer’s rank of some sort.
And it also gave someone competent for Zhia to shirk off her duties onto in the meantime. That seemed to be working quite well at the current moment. Besides, seniority and resumes were bullshit. They knew he could do the job.
Kael only continued to stare for a split second—and was rescued by the appearance of Ryu in the hatchway down, armored up and pack in hand. “Looks like she’s incoming. With her, this is everybody.”
“Ready to go, Commander?” Jenny called.
Ryu spared a crisp nod and started down the ramp.
“C’mon.” Jenny shifted her pack higher on her shoulder. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”
She headed toward the ramp, but Kael didn’t follow, to her surprise. But of course—he hung back, waiting for the commander. Jenny twisted her lips, only a little bitter.
A few moments later, boots trotted up behind her. Even more surprising, they belonged to Adan, who was glancing over his shoulder as he caught up with her. Jenny spared a glance back too—to see Josana falling in beside Kael, who’d fallen in beside the commander.
Again with the distance. She was not going to believe that he was walking beside her so much as avoiding Kael for some reason. Why?
They walked in silence for a flight or two. He stared out over the city, not watching where he was going. Poor wide-eyed tourist.