by Erin Bowman
“Which is why we need to be there,” Coen said. “Use these flux drives to surround Burke and force his surrender. Even make sure an outbreak is contained, if it comes to that. And we break out Thea in the process.”
“The drive is operational and we have it installed on nearly every ship here, but we’re still having a problem with the recharging sequence,” Naree said with a frown. “After one jump, it takes months to recharge.”
“That wouldn’t be a problem,” Coen said. “Not if we only have to make one jump.”
“But if something were to go wrong, if we needed to reposition or change our plan of attack, we’d be sitting ducks. Also, we can’t jump to rescue Thea without the ability to immediately jump back out once we have her.”
“But . . . ?” Nova asked, sensing that there was more the woman was withholding.
“But there’s a drilling venture taking place on Bev. They’ve found something over there. Something corrarium-like. They’re calling it AltCor, and we’ve just secured a small amount for testing. It might be the extra kick we need.”
“How long would testing take?” Coen asked eagerly.
Naree smiled. “I was planning on starting tomorrow, small-scale. If we’re successful, we’d move on to off-planet tests.”
“And if that works,” Sol said, “I guarantee I can secure us enough AltCor to power our entire fleet. We’d have to make some updates to the fuel intakes on all the drives, but we could be finished within two weeks.”
They couldn’t be serious. “Am I the only one who thinks this sounds ridiculous?” Nova folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve got some amazing tech, sure. But you can’t take on the Radicals. We should alert Trios authorities, tell them what we know. Let them figure out how to deal with Burke.”
Weet shook his head. “Radicals have been infiltrating the Trios government for decades. Many hold positions of power. Look at Burke! But if we act with the element of surprise, the Trios will see ships appearing around Xenia. Trios officials loyal to the Union will aid us, and any Radicals refusing to take part in such aid will immediately out themselves.”
“It’s still a suicide mission. You’re a private company who’s been in hiding for years, with only a few hundred staff on hand and, if I’m estimating correctly, about thirty ships in that hangar, only a dozen of which have any serious artillery. If the Radicals are prepared for resistance, we won’t stand a chance.”
“That’s not quite true,” Sol said.
“I know how war works,” Nova continued. “We are not equipped to engage in one—with or without flux drives.”
“I meant about being private,” the man continued. “Do you think I’d have been able to keep this compound—my company—hidden for so long if I didn’t have help on the outside? There are Radical spies in every damn corner of this galaxy. There are dozens in Paza alone, the city forty kilometers to the north, where all our shipments come from. But I have my connections, people invested in keeping Paradox safe, people who believe this tech is worth fighting for. Some of them are even at the GSA. How do you think I’ve maintained a tap on their communications for so long?” Sol glanced at Naree, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was admitting to.
“You’ve already had a war here,” Nova said. “One you were lucky to walk away from without terrible losses. I can’t imagine you want another.”
“Casey didn’t win that war by sheer luck. The Union could have forced us to surrender, easily; could have dragged us into the UPC. But there were Radicals in high-ranking positions, Radicals who knew the flux drive was hiding somewhere on this rock and were afraid of destroying it. We survived because of this tech, and we will defeat them with it now.” He straightened, throwing his shoulders back. “Naree, you get to work on that test first thing in the morning and keep me posted. If AltCor fixes the kinks with the recharging cycle, I’ll make sure we’re able to pick up a larger shipment of the fuel. Meanwhile, I’m going to put a call in to some friends at the GSA and Casey’s Integrated Forces—see if I can’t secure us an off-planet testing window and pull together an organized military fleet ready to take on the Radicals by the UPC trade summit.”
“And the rest of us?” Amber asked.
“Sit tight.” Solomon’s eyes flicked between her and Coen. “Maybe in isolation. There’ll be no saving the universe if you wipe us out before we can make our move.”
After finally being released from interrogation, they were given a tour of the facilities, or at least the areas that Solomon Weet deemed appropriate for their eyes. Key cards were generated. Rules explained. Meals were at seven, noon, and seven again. Communication rooms were strictly off-limits. In addition to their rooms on SubLevel5, they’d have access to the gym and shower facilities, which were open twenty-four hours a day, and the mess hall for meals. Coen would have access to Naree’s lab, providing an ability for her to communicate with Thea, but Nova and Amber would have no such special privileges.
As he followed Weet through the compound, listening to the seemingly endless list of rules, Thea lurked quietly in the corners of his mind.
It had been a lot to take in: the fact that her mother was alive, the possibility of a galaxy-changing technology, the potential showdown with Burke, and a rescue mission for her thanks to the flux drive. She’d been buzzing as it was all discussed, her pulse beating as quickly as Coen’s. Now they were both trying to digest it.
When the tour was over, Coen found himself standing before the door to his bunk, Naree lingering. “Is she okay?” the woman asked.
“As okay as she can be.” He waited for Thea to elaborate, but she remained quiet. There was a sharp edge to her silence, a heat he hadn’t sensed before.
“You should come to the lab tomorrow,” Naree said. “I could use some help with the small-scale AltCor test. I’d like to get to know you better. Thea, too.”
If silence could grow louder, Thea’s did in that moment. Coen merely nodded to Naree and slipped into his room.
It was bare-bones, not unlike the quarters he’d called home during Black Quarry. A bed. A small dresser. Dull overhead lighting.
What’s the matter? he asked her.
It’s just a lot.
Yeah. I get it.
No, you don’t, Coen. You don’t get this at all. The heat had returned, slicing, precise.
Are you mad at me?
What? No. I just— She sighed. It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to find her. I was supposed to look her in the eye and say, “Mom, it’s me. It’s Thea.”
The heat lingered in his mind, but there was something else beneath it, too. A watery, lapping coolness. It was trying to beat back the . . . jealousy. That’s what it was.
I’m not . . . But she didn’t say the word. Because she was. She knew it, deep down, and he could feel it in his bones. There was nothing she could hide from him.
You’ll still be able to tell her all that, he promised. You’ll see her again.
He sensed her nodding.
It’s late. I’m going to lie down, she said after a moment.
I’ll lie with you.
It was dinnertime at Paradox, but food was the furthest thing from Coen’s mind. He kicked off his boots and crawled into bed. Fifty-five light-years away, Thea did the same. They lay on their sides. He imagined his arm around her, the scent of her hair.
She fell asleep first, and when her pulse fell into a languid rhythm, an ebb and flow as soft as distant waves, Coen, too, closed his eyes.
Amber was feeling useless.
She’d been overlooked by her father and the rest of the staff on Kanna7, but at least watching Nova’s vitals and caring for the pilot after she’d woken had kept her busy. It had given Amber purpose. Now at Paradox, she felt lost. She could stay in her room all day, and no one would miss her.
She forced herself to get up, ran her fingers through her hair. As she was making the bed, a knock sounded on the door behind her. She called for the person to enter and didn’t turn u
ntil she heard it crack open.
“Morning.” Nova was leaning a hip into the jamb, arms folded across a bomber jacket with the name Lawson stitched on the front. The sleeves were a bit too short, and the elastic hit so high on Nova’s waist that the piece almost looked cropped. Somehow, the pilot still made it look good.
“Nice jacket.”
Nova glanced down her front, grinning. “Won it during a game of cards last night. All these big, brawny guys and then this petite meter-and-a-half pilot ends up being the real contender. She’d still have this jacket if I hadn’t cheated.”
“You don’t really strike me as the type that cheats.” In fact, the mere idea of it infuriated Amber.
“I didn’t have an ace up my sleeve or steal credits or anything. I just counted cards and flirted.”
“With everyone or just Lawson?”
“Does it matter?”
Amber shrugged and went back to smoothing the bedsheets. The thought of Nova flirting with pilots up in the hangar bothered her even more than the thought of Nova cheating, though she couldn’t say why. Nova could do what she wanted. Just because Amber was responsible for her on Kanna7 didn’t mean she had any responsibility for her here.
“You’re getting around okay, huh?” she asked.
“I’m mobile enough, but I tire pretty quick. That’s why I came here, actually—was wondering if you wanted to train with me.”
Amber looked over her shoulder. Nova wasn’t leaning on the doorjamb anymore, but simply standing in the frame, picking at dirt beneath her nails. She glanced up to meet Amber’s gaze, and while everything in her expression was cool and confident, Amber swore she could hear the pilot’s pulse tick up.
“Train?”
“In the gym. They have a boxing ring. We can test out those new abilities of yours and get some PT in for me in the process.”
“I’m not really the gym-going type.”
“And I’m not really the card-cheating type. Yet here we are.”
That made Amber smile.
“Coen’s helping Naree with something in the labs,” Nova went on, “and Sol told us to lie low. It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”
For a moment, Amber considered it, pretending it was a possibility. She’d taken basic self-defense classes a few years ago, and with her increased capabilities as a host, a match in the ring wouldn’t be fair, especially not when Nova was still healing. It would also be dangerous. If Amber got even a scratch and her blood passed back to the pilot . . .
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.
Hurt glanced over Nova’s features, than vanished behind a forced smile. “Right. Of course. You should train with Coen. It’s safer that way.” She turned and strode briskly down the hall.
Amber watched her go, wondering why she felt disappointment at something she herself had suggested.
Staring through the double-paned glass, Coen took in the testing room. It was completely white and empty, save for two tables that stood at opposite ends of the space. One table held a cube about a half meter tall.
Naree had met him at his bunk earlier in the morning and led the way to the lab level, then through a heavily guarded set of doors that opened to a hallway so long Coen hadn’t been able to see the end of it. Lights were spaced meagerly on the walls and flickered sporadically. By the time Coen and Naree reached the end—another set of doors, these unguarded—he guessed the hall had been nearly a half kilometer long.
“We did all our initial testing here,” Naree had explained as they walked into the secure lab. “A massive amount of radiation is discharged when jumping from one space to another, and . . . well, isolation is important.”
Now, on Coen’s side of the glass, Naree Sadik was fiddling with a computer.
“Does that remotely control the drive?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m passing it destination coordinates right now.” She glanced up. “Ready?”
Coen glanced past his own reflection, through the glass and to the compact box resting on the table. It wasn’t possible—moving a physical object like this, having it disappear from one space only to reappear in another.
Just let her show you, Thea urged. I want to see it, too.
She couldn’t really see it, not truly. She’d only feel whatever Coen felt. Awe, perhaps. Shock.
Sure, but that will still let me know that it worked, she added. Tell her to do it.
You being back is a blessing and a curse. You know that?
She chuckled in his mind, and Coen gave Naree a nod. He heard the programmer tap a key and kept his gaze on the box on the other side of the glass. The rooms were soundproofed and there was nothing to hear, but as the box began to vibrate slightly, its edges blurring, Coen imagined a low humming noise. Then, in the blink of an eye, the box vanished from the first table and appeared a few millimeters above the second, dropping to the table and rattling the legs.
“It’s almost impossible to place it directly on the surface,” Naree explained. “Better to aim above the table and have it fall to a resting position, than to jump it into another mass. Of course, the falling won’t be an issue in space.”
Coen stared, trying to make sense of what he’d just witnessed. It was impossible. A magic trick. An illusion. But the box had been on one table a moment earlier and had teleported to the second.
Thea’s excitement was apparent, rattling through his mind. Questions for him. Questions for her mother. Questions about the tech.
Hang on, he told her. I’m still trying to process this.
“Pretty impressive, no?”
“It’s incredible,” Coen told Naree.
“Halfway incredible, at least. Until recently, if I wanted to jump that box back, I’d have to wait nearly four weeks for the drive to recharge. The radiation dispelled in the jump practically drains the reactor, and while corrarium has been sustainable for the Union’s current needs, it hasn’t been cut out for this technology.”
“But the AltCor?”
Naree’s eyes flashed with excitement. “That’s what we’re here to test. I had a tech switch out the fuel sources this morning. Do you want to do the honors?” She nodded to the keypad before her. “Coordinates are already programmed, all you have to do is hit return.”
Go on, Thea urged. What are you waiting for?
Staring down at the key, he was reminded of a moment back on Achlys, when he and Thea had stared at the lever that would activate Celestial Envoy’s self-destruct sequence. It had been their final prayer, a shot in the dark, a way to bury the evidence of Psychrobacter achli and escape that dark planet to a better future.
This felt similar. If the AltCor worked, it meant a chance to secure that better future again. It meant the very real possibility of getting Thea off Kanna7 and stopping Burke in the same breath. But if it didn’t work, the contagion could get out. Thea might never be free. It was too much for one person to initiate. He didn’t want to be the one to bring the bad news.
You’re not alone, Thea whispered. I’m right here. I’ll be doing it with you.
Coen reached out, finger hovering above the key. Thea counted to three in his mind. He pressed the button.
Behind the glass, the box shook. Its edges blurred. Then it was suddenly gone, reappearing above the first table and falling to its surface.
“Ha!” Naree hit the return button again. At first nothing happened, but after a few seconds, she tapped the key again. This time, the box returned to the second table. Again she waited, then pressed the button. A third jump. Naree squealed. “It works! I can’t . . . It’s better than I could have . . . Do you know what this means?”
She tackled Coen in a hug before he could form a response, practically crushing the air from his lungs. Thea’s elation buzzed in his mind, an undercurrent of jealousy battling her excitement. She was overjoyed, truly. And yet she still resented that she wasn’t there with them, that this was another moment she would never have with her mother.
&nb
sp; “What now?” Coen asked.
“I’ll need to run some more tests, see exactly how long the recharge cycle takes, but it’s looking like a matter of seconds. From there, we’d just have to do an off-planet test. The drives are already installed on most of Sol’s ships, so after that, it’s just swapping out the fuel source.”
“And how long until you can do that off-site test?”
Naree’s brows dipped. “Depends on how quickly engineering can get the corrarium reactor switched out for an AltCor one, but I’m hoping by the end of the week.”
Three days.
Three days until you know if you’ll be coming for me, Thea said.
I’m coming for you regardless. This will just make things a heck of a lot easier.
They were fifty-five light-years apart, but he could feel her smile, and when he closed his eyes, it was almost as if she was standing there before him. He wouldn’t waste a single moment the next time they were together. He’d kiss her immediately.
“Was there something else?” Naree said, slamming Coen back to reality. He opened his eyes to find the programmer standing before him, gaze pointed.
“Um, no, ma’am,” he managed. “Thea’s just really impressed by all this. I was explaining everything.”
Liar, she teased.
“I’m not surprised she is.” Naree smiled, and Coen felt exactly as he did so often with his own mother: as though secrets were impossible, his feelings written on his skin like a tattoo. It was frightening and wonderful to be understood like this. And yet it stung at the same time. He was so far from his own family.
You’re almost back to them, Thea said. You’ll see them soon. I’m sure of it.
And the thing was, Coen was finally, truly, starting to believe it. The end was in sight now. He dared to hope.
After a morning loitering at the infirmary, Amber made her way to the gym, triumphant. She’d convinced the head physician to let her work as a volunteer. He had an annual inventory cleanout to tackle, and Amber would be in charge of sifting through medications and synthetic blood and discarding anything expired. She wasn’t sure if the physician had believed her when she said she was excited to start. But she was. Anything to keep her busy. To feel useful.
