Sky Without Stars

by Jessica Brody

“Your next flight will not be to the moon, LeGrand, but to the Sols.”

  Alouette felt like she’d been shot by another paralyzing rayonette pulse. But this one wasn’t aimed for her leg, it was aimed for every vital organ in her body. She could feel them all freezing up at once, shutting down. Her heart slowing. Her lungs gasping. Her brain clouding over.

  This cyborg—this half man, half machine—wasn’t going to send her father back to prison. He was going to kill him. She was going to have to watch him die right next to her.

  And suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the world became crisp and clear again.

  Hugo Taureau—or Jean LeGrand, or whatever his name was—might not have been Alouette’s real father, but he was the only father she’d ever known. And just like he’d said to Limier, he was decent, moral, and good. He’d loved Alouette. That much he’d never lied about. That much she could be sure of.

  That, and the fact that she could not let him die.

  Alouette pushed against her restraints again, but it was no use. They were too tight. She needed something to cut through them. She needed some type of tool or—

  Alouette’s head snapped up, and for the first time since she’d learned the truth from the Renards, she looked at Hugo. She turned and stared hard and purposefully into his eyes.

  Listen to me, she said silently.

  His eyebrows rose subtly in response and Alouette nudged her chin toward her coat. Hugo’s gaze darted down, but his expression remained clouded. He wasn’t getting it. He didn’t understand. She glanced up to see Limier glaring down at them, the armed weapon glistening in his hand. She needed more time.

  That much, at least, Hugo did seem to understand.

  “Limier,” Hugo began. “I thought you were a man of justice. Of reason. So think about this reasonably. I stole a loaf of chou bread. That was my only crime. How is that punishable by death?”

  Alouette could hear the subtlest twinge of mocking in her father’s voice, and she knew that he was taunting the inspecteur. Buying her more time.

  “You think that was your only crime?” the inspecteur lashed out, his circuitry blinking irritably. “Shall I enumerate your countless other offenses?”

  Yes, Alouette thought hopefully. Yes, please do.

  The inspecteur didn’t wait for a reply. “You have escaped from a Ministère prison. Not once, but twice. You destroyed three droids and injured two of my men.”

  As the cyborg spoke, Alouette attempted to scoot closer to her father, wiggling her hips until the tool belt around her waist rotated. She knew precisely the moment her father caught on to what she was trying do. His hands brushed against her jacket, and she felt him tug at the pouch on her belt. And then, at last, the small wire cutters she’d taken from Sister Denise’s workbench earlier were slipped into her hand.

  Alouette didn’t hesitate. With her wrists still bound, she attempted to turn the clippers around so that she could maneuver the handles. But with her limited mobility, her fingers felt fat and clumsy.

  “Resisting arrest is not a crime punishable by death either,” Hugo baited. “I thought cyborgs were programmed to follow the law.”

  “I am the law!” the inspecteur shouted. The sound was so startling, Alouette’s hands fumbled and the wire cutters dropped into the dirt behind her. “I am the head of the Vallonay Policier. The general has entrusted me with keeping the peace in our capital city, and you are a disturbance to that peace.”

  Alouette panicked, her fingers roving desperately across the ground for the lost tool, but she was finding nothing except clumps of dirt and dried leaves. She stretched against the restraints, the wire digging painfully into her flesh, until finally her fingertips brushed the smooth surface of the handles sticking out of the mud.

  She nearly yelped in relief as she navigated the tool toward Hugo’s wrists.

  “That is why you must be eliminated once and for all,” Limier was saying. He seemed to have regained his composure as he lifted his weapon and aimed it directly at Hugo’s chest.

  When the cutters made contact with a solid surface, Alouette couldn’t be certain whether she was about to cut wire or flesh, but she was out of time. She squeezed her fingers together, feeling the sharp blades latch on to something.

  “Adieu, LeGrand,” Limier said with a sneer as his finger pinched the trigger.

  Alouette shut her eyes tight and squeezed harder. A moment later, she heard a snap, followed by the high-pitched whoosh of the rayonette.

  Alouette opened her eyes to see Hugo rocketing forward as though he were a great and mighty flood being released from a dam. At the same instant, the tree at Alouette’s back sizzled and blackened, shards of wood exploding outward as the pulse from Limier’s rayonette buried itself into the bark, missing Alouette’s cheek by a millimètre.

  Alouette screamed as Hugo landed on top of Limier and the two men hit the ground with a thunderous clap. The rayonette flew from Limier’s hand, before landing a few mètres away. Limier dove for it. Hugo pulled him back. Alouette could tell the paralyzeur in his blood was still slowing him down, softening his muscles. It seemed to give Limier an edge. The men grappled and tugged, Hugo using what was left of his brute strength, and Limier his unflagging tenacity.

  Alouette tried to turn the cutters to the wire on her own wrists, but they kept slipping and sinking back into the dirt. She tried to yank her hands free instead, but the wire bit at her flesh, causing her to wince and yelp in pain.

  Limier flipped onto his back and managed to wedge his knee under Hugo. The bottom of his boot connected with Hugo’s stomach, and he kicked hard. Hugo was flung off him and Limier was free. He scrambled onto his hands and knees and reached for the weapon, his fingers wrapping around the handle.

  Alouette whimpered and grappled for the wire cutters again. This time, she was able to prop the tool between her bound hands and the tree, holding it in place with one wrist, while she violently sawed the other back and forth against the small blade.

  Hugo bounded to his feet and moved toward Limier, his left leg dragging awkwardly behind him. But Limier already had the weapon positioned in his hand.

  “Papa! Watch out!” Alouette cried.

  Limier took aim and fired. But with effort, Hugo managed to kick out his right leg, his boot slicing through the air, making contact with Limier’s chest and knocking the inspecteur onto his back. The shot missed again, soaring too high and burying itself in a branch above Alouette’s head. The tree sizzled and creaked in response.

  Limier still had hold of the weapon. He tried to line up another shot, but Hugo was there, kicking again. This time the blow landed right on the rayonette, and Alouette watched the device fly through the air in a looping arc, disappearing deep into the trees. Limier let out a loud, robotic roar of frustration and took off after it.

  Hugo leapt in front of him, blocking his path with his massive frame, and when the inspecteur tried to dodge him, Hugo grabbed Limier and hoisted him high off the ground. Limier’s circuitry blinked furiously, lighting up the trees and branches around him. Then it was as though Hugo’s strength suddenly returned in full force. His blood absorbed the last drop of paralyzeur in his system. The powerful and mighty Hugo Taureau was back. With a beastly roar, he flung the inspecteur over his head. Limier seemed to be airborne for minutes. When he finally hit the ground, there was the distinct sound of metal breaking.

  The noise was sickening and unsettling. But not as unsettling as the noise Alouette was suddenly hearing above her. She glanced up and noticed the branch that had taken the second pulse from the rayonette was wavering. Crackling. Starting to come down.

  And Alouette was sitting directly underneath it.

  She sawed harder. But because she couldn’t see what she was doing, her wrists constantly slipped, the sharp end of the wire cutters stabbing at her palm.

  The branch above finally snapped. Hugo heard the sound and spun around, his eyes widening as he saw the giant piece of lumber hurtling toward Alouette. He lunged
for her, presumably to push her out of harm’s way. But just then, another branch seemed to come out of nowhere, smacking Hugo across the side of the face. With a grunt, he collapsed facedown onto the dirt.

  Alouette yanked her wrists apart as hard as she could. The wire finally ripped, and she rolled out of the way just as the branch above her crashed against the base of the tree.

  She shuddered out a breath and tried to run to her father. But her leg was still numb, and she immediately crashed to her knees. Hugo was moaning, struggling to get up.

  Where did that other branch come from?

  The answer came a split second later when Limier swung again and Alouette saw the massive wooden weapon in his hand.

  “No!” Alouette screamed.

  Limier brought the branch down hard across Hugo’s back, and Hugo collapsed. The inspecteur pulled his weapon over his head, preparing to deliver another blow.

  “No!” Alouette called again, just as the branch smashed onto Hugo’s skull and her father crumpled.

  This time, he didn’t try to get up. He didn’t move at all.

  She opened her mouth to cry out, but then clamped it shut when she saw Limier rising up, wiping the blood and dirt from his mouth. His orange eye roved the grave site, looking for something.

  Looking for her.

  Alouette sprawled onto her belly, hiding herself in the tall grass, and started to slither toward the camp. She had to get out of there. And fast. If she didn’t leave, that deranged cyborg would certainly kill her, too. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Each one like a clap of thunder. Alouette moved as fast as she could, but her leg was still numb from the pulse of the Renards’ . . .

  Alouette froze, an idea forming in her mind.

  She peered up over the reeds, glancing quickly around to orient herself. She saw the lamp in the center of the clearing, directly behind her. It was a risky move, but she feared it might be her only option. Keeping herself low, she swiveled around and crawled in the direction of the light source, where she remembered Madame Renard dropping her rayonette as soon as the droids had arrived. Alouette’s hands searched frantically through the damp grass. When her fingertips brushed up against cold, hard metal, she let out a quick gasp of relief.

  But just as her hand curled around the weapon, a large black boot crunched down on her fingers. She screamed, but the boot only twisted and ground harder into the forest floor.

  Alouette looked up to see Limier looming over her, his mechanical eye beaming down like a Sol on fire. The pain in her hand was excruciating. Her fingers could no longer clutch the rayonette. She felt it slowly slip from her grasp as the inspecteur’s boot dug deeper into her skin.

  He bent down to grab the weapon, lifting his boot from her hand. Alouette was free, but the pain was still blinding. She felt dizzy, like she might pass out. But then she heard a sickening sound. The sound of the rayonette clicking in the inspecteur’s hand.

  And something inexplicable rose up inside her.

  Something very new and very familiar, all at the same time.

  In a flash, Alouette was no longer facedown in the dirt. She was on her feet so quickly, Limier stumbled back in shock. Her arms swung gracefully, one hand arcing in front of the other as she moved swiftly toward the inspecteur.

  She felt buoyant. Weightless. Like she no longer needed to pilot her body; her body knew exactly what to do. It remembered.

  Every muscle and tendon knew these movements.

  Her left hand curved up, making contact with Limier’s nose, while her right sliced into his stomach with more strength than she knew she had. He doubled over and Alouette was already moving again, crouching down and thrusting her elbow up into his throat. The inspecteur let out a strange gurgle and went down, the rayonette falling into the grass.

  It wasn’t until Alouette pushed herself up from the squat that she fully recognized what she’d just done.

  It was the fourth sequence.

  The Darkest Night.

  She had just performed Tranquil Forme in the middle of the woods! Except it wasn’t Tranquil Forme. It was faster. More violent. Bloodier. Tranquil Forme wasn’t supposed to be fast and violent and bloody, it was supposed to be gentle and slow and . . . tranquil.

  Did the Sisters know you could do that?

  Use their sacred meditation as a weapon?

  Of course not.

  She nearly laughed aloud at the idea of Sister Muriel fighting off a Ministère officer with her Orbit of the Divine.

  And yet it had worked. Inspecteur Limier was on the ground at her feet, moaning in agony.

  And somehow she was responsible.

  She’d done this to him.

  She’d incapacitated this terrifying inspecteur.

  All on her own.

  Suddenly a cold hand gripped her ankle and began to pull her down. Alouette shrieked and tried to leap back from the inspecteur’s grasp, but she couldn’t wrench herself free. He was too strong. The cyborg cackled a dark, chilling laugh and began to tug harder, using his grip on Alouette’s leg to pull himself up.

  Alouette felt herself slipping. She gave a furious kick, knocking the inspecteur back, and lunged for the rayonette on the ground. Limier scrambled to his feet again but halted when he saw Alouette holding the rayonette out in front of her, the weapon aimed directly at him.

  “You think you can defeat me? You’re a nobody. A worthless, silly girl. Just like your mother.”

  He lunged. She squeezed the trigger. The rayonette’s pulse rippled through the wet air. It found its target in Limier’s left temple, and for a moment, the entire forest was aglow. Everything turned bright and white as a shower of sparks erupted from the cyborg’s circuitry. The inspecteur let out a gruesome cry, but the sound was cut short as his whole body seemed to immobilize. Like a powered-down droid. His mouth remained open in a silent scream. The circuitry on his flesh continued to sizzle as the inspecteur crumpled to the ground and landed in a heap.

  Then, a moment later, Alouette heard a deep, wounded moan as someone in the clearing called out, “Little Lark?”

  - CHAPTER 70 -

  CHATINE

  CHATINE SHIVERED AS THE WIND drifting off the lake cut through her sorry excuse for a coat. She’d been waiting at the edge of the Forest Verdure for over twenty minutes for the general to arrive, and she had no idea what was taking him so long.

  The words she’d said to him in her message were fluttering back through her mind like leaves trapped in a breeze.

  I found the base. I know where they are.

  The general had responded less than a minute later, telling her he’d pick her up shortly.

  Chatine still couldn’t believe the Vangarde had been hiding inside the city all this time. When she’d pictured a top secret base for an undercover revolutionary operation, she’d usually pictured something way out in the middle of the Terrain Perdu, maybe even a fortress carved into the ice, designed to blend in with the endless white landscape. She’d imagined the general searching the entire planet. Searching for something that had been right under his nose the whole time.

  The thought amused her. Chatine was impressed by anyone who could outsmart the Ministère. The location was clever. And gutsy as fric.

  And it wasn’t too dissimilar to the way Chatine had operated all these years.

  Hiding in plain sight was often the best way to disappear.

  The wind picked up. Chatine shivered again and pulled her coat tighter, but it did little to protect her against the furious gales that twisted and snaked around her.

  The gusts were so strong, she didn’t even hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late. Until she was already being hoisted off the ground.

  She tried to scream, but a large hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound.

  “Thought you could run away from us, did you?”

  Chatine’s eyes darted left and right, but she still couldn’t see her attacker.

  “Thought you could skip out on your debts t
o the Délabré and we wouldn’t find you?”

  Just then, a figure stepped in front of her. His slender, angular body cast eerie, misshapen shadows on the ground.

  Chatine’s eyes widened, and the hand over her mouth stifled another scream.

  Claque reached out and gripped one of the metal rods that was holding Chatine’s tattered pants together. He yanked hard and something tiny and metallic fell into his palm. “It’s important to keep tabs on your resources.” He held up the object, and Chatine felt her body go rigid.

  It was a tracking device. He’d obviously hidden it on her when she was at the Grotte. She hadn’t even bothered to check. How could she have been so stupide? He’d been tracking her ever since she’d left the docks that night.

  And now she knew exactly what came next. There was no way she could escape it.

  Claque wasted no more time. He reached into the pocket of his tattered sheepskin coat and pulled out his favorite tool. A pair of rusty bolt cutters.

  Sheer terror coursed through Chatine’s veins. She tried to speak, to reason with the man, but her words were muffled by what she now knew was Hercule’s hand. Claque never went anywhere without his giant freightship of a bodyguard.

  “What’s that?” Claque asked, feigning interest. “I didn’t get that.”

  Hercule dropped his massive hand from Chatine’s mouth long enough for her to repeat herself. “I still have until tomorrow.”

  Claque clucked his tongue while he glanced down at his Skin. “That’s true. You do still have until tomorrow.” He paused, watching the clock. “57, 58, 59 . . . and now it’s tomorrow.”

  He reached for her boot and easily slid it off, revealing her bare, blistered toes underneath.

  Chatine struggled and kicked at the air, but Hercule tightened his grip around her waist, keeping her hoisted off the ground. Claque squeezed his fingers around the handles of the bolt cutters, giving them a quick trial run. The sharp snap sound that echoed across the lake made Chatine’s heart leap into her throat.

  “We’ll start with the smallest and work our way in,” Claque explained as he sauntered toward her, his gaze trained on her wriggling toes.