Arkadian Skies

by Lindsay Buroker

  “There are hundreds of miles of tunnels,” Leonidas said, pointing at his holodisplay.

  Alisa glimpsed words such as haunted, history, and exciting.

  “Escaping into old mines is not going to get us to sickbay,” Alejandro growled. “If we don’t receive treatment soon—”

  “We’ll jump out the back before the crash.” Leonidas glanced toward the flapping door. Abelardus was back there but hadn’t managed to close it yet. The frame must be warped.

  Alisa raked the control console with her gaze. “This ship doesn’t have a hover option.”

  “Just put us on a crash course, fly low, and curve around the mountain. When we’re out of the other ships’ sight, we’ll jump.”

  “Onto pavement?” She doubted they would be out of sight for long. More Alliance ships were in the air, and the lead one had already halved the distance between them.

  “I’ll look for something soft to land on. Be ready to jump.” Leonidas hit a button on his map, leaving the netdisc there as he sprang from his seat. He ran to the back, grabbing Durant from Alejandro’s arms, and headed for the flapping door.

  Alisa cursed him, the barge, the Alliance, and the entire situation as she flew them low, heading toward a flashing dot on the map. The mine entrance, she presumed.

  At the base of the mountain, antigrav towers, roller coasters, and countless rides she couldn’t name rose from pavement bedecked with tents and kiosks. Signs pointed toward the haunted mines. The barge was flying low enough that people looked up, shielding their eyes from the suns as it roared over the park.

  As Alisa took them around the contours of the mountain toward the mine entrance, she spotted a river winding down the slope. With the way it snaked and curved as it flowed into the flatter area, she wagered it wasn’t natural. People were riding inflatable tubes down the center, and fake-looking trees thrust up from either side of the channel.

  “We’ll jump out over the water,” Leonidas called back. “Set the ship to crash and get back here.”

  “Who doesn’t love those moments when your cyborg is crazier than your pilot?” Alisa muttered, lining the barge up with the mine entrance. She tilted the nose up, deciding that slightly higher on the mountain would be better. The crash would be less likely to hurt innocent people then.

  Though her instincts cried out for her to stay at the controls and try to land them safely, she leaped from her seat and ran to the back. Alejandro, Abelardus, and Leonidas, with Durant in his arms, were already there. Someone had opened the other door. For the moment, only the slope and the amusement park and the winding river were visible. The Alliance ships hadn’t rounded the mountain yet.

  Leonidas looked back at her, meeting her eyes, and she could tell he was wondering if he should try to jump with her in his arms in addition to Durant.

  “Go,” Alisa ordered, glancing back. The mountainside filled the view through the windshield. They only had a few seconds.

  “We’re over it,” Abelardus barked, and jumped first.

  Alejandro went after him. Leonidas waited for Alisa to creep up to the edge. They were about thirty feet above the water. Alisa hoped it was deeper than it looked.

  “Ready?” he said. “Go.”

  They jumped together.

  Wind rushed past Alisa, and a thunderous crack filled her ears. The barge striking the mountainside.

  She stuck her arms out as she fell, as if that might slow her down, and managed to keep her feet underneath her. She had a glimpse of fake trees with fake alligators and snakes lounging in them before she struck the water, splashing down between two groups of screaming tube riders. The screams could have been a result of the joy of the experience, but more likely they had to do with the ship crashing and people raining down between them.

  The river wasn’t as deep as Alisa would have liked, and a jolt ran up her legs when her feet struck the bottom as soon as her head plunged below the surface. Fortunately, nothing snapped or broke as she bent her knees, absorbing some of the impact. Just like going off a diving board, she told herself.

  She came up, the air hurting her lungs as she gasped it in. She still felt like she couldn’t get enough of it. Damned gas.

  She found herself amid pink and yellow inner tubes with people in swimming suits gaping at her. A hand latched onto her arm. Leonidas. He linked her to Durant and pulled both of them after him as he swam for the shore. She would have expected him to sink like a rock with all that muscle, but he made good speed and was soon pushing Durant out of the water. She clambered onto the faux rock siding, slumped against one of the cement “trees,” and peered toward the mountain.

  Smoke streamed into the air from the crashed barge. Alliance ships swarmed around it like bees. Alisa was half-surprised they didn’t open fire to finish off the craft. Either they still wanted Leonidas alive, or they were being careful because of the nearby amusement park.

  Alejandro and Abelardus, their hair and clothes plastered to their bodies, appeared farther down the bank, running toward Leonidas while staying under the cover of the trees.

  “We need to go,” Alejandro said as soon as he reached them, glancing toward Durant.

  Leonidas knelt beside him. “He’s not breathing.”

  “Damn it, he must have inhaled water.” Alejandro dropped down, rolled him onto his side, and hooked a finger inside his mouth. Maybe his tongue had fallen back into his throat, because once that was done, Durant coughed and sputtered.

  Alisa stepped forward, thinking that might mean he was waking up. She would laugh, or maybe strangle someone, if it turned out that all they had needed to do was dunk the man into a bath to rouse him. But the coughing settled down without his eyes opening.

  “Back to sickbay,” Alejandro said, waving for Leonidas to pick up Durant again. “All of us need it.” He met Alisa’s eyes, his expression grim, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths. He was struggling to get enough air, too, she realized. They all were. Leonidas’s face even looked faintly blue.

  “Sickbay,” she agreed.

  Chapter 8

  “Just relax and breathe deeply,” Alejandro said, holding a mask over Alisa’s mouth and nose.

  “Pretty sure some doctor said that when I was delivering my daughter,” she said. “As if relaxing is possible in such a situation.”

  Durant, Leonidas, and Alejandro, all worse off than Abelardus and Alisa, had already received their treatments, a chemical vapor inhaled through a machine Alejandro had rigged up. Leonidas still looked miserable, sitting on the deck instead of one of the chairs, his face dropped to his knees. From a few words Alejandro had let slip, Alisa gathered it was a very good thing it had only taken them a half hour to get back to the ship. If they had been caught or stunned, they might have died in the back of some police vehicle.

  “If you’re talking, you’re not breathing,” Alejandro said.

  “You sure that’s how it works? Hm.” Alisa inhaled deeply, grimacing as the unappealing vapor coated the back of her throat. Hadn’t her throat taken enough of a beating today?

  You can talk to me if you want. Abelardus gave her a cocky smile from where he leaned against the hatchway jamb. The ship lay dark behind him—under Mica’s advisement, Alisa had only authorized the return of power to sickbay. No breathing required.

  Handy, Alisa replied. How come you weren’t as affected as the rest of us?

  Abelardus’s voice was raspy when he used it, but he seemed hale enough standing there.

  Because when the cyborg told us to hold our breath, I did it.

  I did too. In the beginning. You can only hold your breath for so long.

  I slowed down my metabolism, so there was less need for oxygen. You learn a lot of meditation and tricks like that when you’re studying to be a Starseer.

  Alisa supposed that explained why Yumi had been trying all of those odd breathing techniques and exercises to develop Starseer powers.

  Is it hard to meditate while you’re riding on the back of a rob
ot? she asked.

  Moderately so. And you’re welcome. I was riding that robot for you, so it wouldn’t prong you.

  Thanks. I’ll bake chocolate chip cookies for you later. While she appreciated people trying to save her life when it was in danger, she was less enraptured by the way he never missed a chance to take credit for something.

  A kiss would be less work.

  And less appealing too. Lips don’t taste like chocolate.

  They could. He waggled his eyebrows.

  “I need to gag,” Alisa said.

  “Too much gas?” Alejandro asked, touching a dial on his device.

  “Way too much gas.” She glared at Abelardus, and his smirk widened.

  “Just a few more breaths, and I’ll move on to the next patient.” Alejandro nodded toward Abelardus.

  Alisa obediently took her breaths, and he removed the mask. She sat down on the deck next to Leonidas. He had scooted back to the wall, so he wouldn’t be in the way, but from the weary slump to his shoulders, he wouldn’t be ready to fight again for a while. Alisa hoped they had a while.

  “Cyborgs don’t have enhanced lungs?” she asked, resting a hand on his arm.

  “Most of our organs are the same as yours, just better protected from external traumas.”

  “Like bullets and blazers?”

  “Yes.”

  “But not gas?”

  “Not in a way that would keep the airways from constricting.”

  “What, nobody anticipated an asthmatic cyborg?”

  He rolled his head to the side to give her a dirty look. She was tempted to kiss him, but not with Alejandro and Abelardus in the room. And Durant. Not that he would notice. He had been laid back on the exam table and hooked back up to his lines, as silent and comatose as ever.

  “I hope you’re feeling better now,” she murmured.

  “Yes,” Leonidas said. His voice sounded painfully raspy, but at least he was not struggling for air now.

  She clasped his hand. He hesitated, maybe because she still hadn’t convinced him that they could make sense as a couple someday, but then he returned the clasp, his calloused fingers warm around hers.

  Speaking of gagging… Abelardus made a face inside of the mask now pressed to his face.

  Be quiet, or we’ll lock you back in that food truck. They had borrowed one from the amusement park in order to make it back to the junkyard in a timely manner.

  Borrowed? I believe we stole it, Abelardus observed. Your Herculean cyborg ripped the locked door open, after all.

  We’re leaving it in the junkyard so it can be retrieved. Alisa had kept Beck from looting it for utensils and supplies. Aside from the broken lock, it could be returned to its owners in decent shape.

  Much like the laundry barge you first stole?

  Alisa grimaced. No, that couldn’t be retrieved. But she didn’t care for his sanctimonious tone as he judged her, and she caught herself replying with, That was stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. It’s noble.

  How do you figure that?

  We took all that expensive laundry soap and shared it with the city.

  You’re an odd woman, Alisa. Abelardus winked at her over his breathing mask. You’re lucky I like that.

  Leonidas made a growl deep in his throat. Alisa squeezed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  Beck appeared in the hatchway, pushing Abelardus to the side to step into sickbay. “Everyone still alive? You need anything done, Captain?”

  “Just for you to be a little less cheerful,” Alisa said. Breathing might be easier now, but talking was starting to hurt. She wished she could crawl into her bunk for a long nap, but that seemed unwise with half the city—and perhaps half of the Alliance ships in orbit—searching for them.

  “Sorry, Captain.” Beck saluted. “I’m just happy that I missed out on this one. I still have peeling skin from that radiation bath we took a few weeks ago.”

  “So if there’s something unappealing in the food, we now know its origin?” Abelardus asked.

  “There’s nothing unappealing in my food, but if you disagree, you don’t have to eat it. I think I saw some old rat bars lodged between the refrigerator and the bulkhead. You’re welcome to those.”

  “Alisa promised me cookies.” Abelardus smiled.

  “I bet,” Leonidas muttered.

  “He thought he deserved something for jumping on the back of a robot that was attacking me,” Alisa said.

  “Is that the one he was riding until I came along and destroyed it?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  Abelardus gave Leonidas a sour look.

  “Do I get cookies?” Leonidas asked.

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  “Not unless someone authorizes power to my kitchen,” Beck said.

  He had no sooner spoken the words than the power in sickbay went out. Alejandro’s machine beeped once in indignation and shut off.

  “Or not,” Beck said.

  Alisa thought about yelling for Mica, but her throat cringed at the idea. Instead, she dug out her comm for a more sedate call.

  “What?” Mica growled.

  “Did you cut power because a search drone is close, or did I forget to pay the electrical bill?”

  “Funny. A shuttle landed two blocks over. I assume some men are here to search on foot. I expect the junkyard will be a part of that search. They may already have a clue that we’re in here.”

  Alisa rested her forehead against the comm unit. They couldn’t take off without being seen and chased, and anyone doing a visual search of the junkyard was bound to notice the fully intact spaceship among the rusted-out hulls. Mica had tossed a copious amount of junk atop the Nomad, everything from dented cans to folding lawn chairs, but it would have taken construction equipment to truly bury the ship so a passerby wouldn’t notice it.

  A deep sigh came from the center of the room. “I think Abelardus got enough of the breathing treatment,” Alejandro said, “but I won’t be able to examine the data and formulate a plan for Durant in the dark.”

  “I also can’t make cookies in the dark,” Beck said.

  “Equally distressing situations,” Alisa said, letting out a sigh of her own as she released Leonidas and pushed herself to her feet. Her entire body ached, and her legs wobbled as if she had run a marathon. “I’ll go talk with Mica, and we’ll see if we can come up with a plan.”

  What that plan would be, she had no idea. It was frustrating that they had fought so hard, managing to escape the hospital, only to be grounded in the middle of the city.

  In the dark, Alisa groped her way past Alejandro and the exam table. She knew the ship well, but stumbled into someone loitering in the hatchway.

  “Why am I positive that’s you, Abelardus?” she asked, shoving him aside so she could pass.

  “Because you could recognize my manly aura in the dark.”

  “More likely, she recognized your manly stench,” Beck said.

  “At least I don’t smell like ketchup.”

  “That’s apple cider barbecue sauce, and it smells delightful.”

  “But not manly.”

  “Are you calling my sauces feminine?”

  Alisa turned for NavCom, glad to leave that conversation behind. Manly aura. Please. She felt certain Abelardus had adjusted his position so she would run into him. Probably hoping for an accidental grope.

  An intended grope would be even better, he said, smirking into her mind. Your cyborg almost didn’t survive that gas.

  Alisa shivered at the thought—had Leonidas truly been that close to not making it? He had been wheezing audibly by the time they made it back to the ship, but he, of course, never let on that he was in pain or discomfort. She almost turned around and went back to cradle his head in her arms while he rested, but they would all be in danger of not making it if someone didn’t come up with a way to escape the city.

  I hope you’re considering me as your backup plan, Abelardus added. H
e popped an image into her mind of her cradling a baby. It wasn’t a memory of Jelena.

  Aren’t there other women with Starseer genes that you can harass? Alisa asked as she followed the emergency lights to NavCom. I’m sure at least one of them would find the idea of having your baby appealing. Actually, she wasn’t sure about that at all. Yumi’s sister, she recalled, had found Abelardus handsome, but there was quite a gap between wanting to sleep with someone and wanting to have a baby with that someone.

  I’m sure, too, but descendants of Alcyone are rarer. And you’re so delightfully spunky.

  Alisa coughed—or maybe that was a gag. Either way, it hurt her raw throat.

  “Do you need an airsickness bag?” came Mica’s voice from the co-pilot’s seat.

  With the screens dark, Alisa wouldn’t have been able to see her, but she had her netdisc out, the map glowing softly and highlighting her face.

  “I may, if Abelardus doesn’t stop saying vomit-inspiring things into my mind.” Alisa slid into her chair, her weary legs glad for the rest.

  “I punch him when he does that to me.”

  “Oh? What does he say to you?” Alisa knew Abelardus bugged Leonidas from time to time, but hadn’t imagined him sending his smug, silent messages to the other women on the ship. It shouldn’t surprise her. He would probably see nothing wrong with seducing other women while trying to get her to have his baby.

  “He critiques my workmanship,” Mica said.

  “Ah, no invitations to the bedroom?”

  “Not yet, though he did once inform me that Yumi would prefer a Starseer man to me, since they apparently can do interesting things with their mental talents.” Mica lifted her eyebrows.

  “Uh huh. What he considers interesting and what the woman considers interesting don’t likely have much in common. You’ve got the Alliance shuttles on there?” Alisa pointed at the map, where search drones continued to zoom past. There were a lot more of them now.

  “It’s here,” Mica said, zooming in to the street near the junkyard. “Just the one shuttle so far. I don’t think they know for sure that we’re in the junkyard, but they definitely seem to know the rough area where we are. They couldn’t possibly be covering the entire city with that many planes.”