Hybrid: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 4)

by Valerie J Mikles

  “It’s thunder. You’ve heard it before,” she said. “You like the rain.”

  Hawk made a face. “It sounds different.”

  “The avalan on the hull changes the resonance,” she explained, leading him to the back door. Sky could smell the rain coming. The humid air carried the scent of the forest only a few miles away. She and Tray had tested the soil in Boone and it seemed capable of supporting life. And yet, any seed that fell on the land around old Boone failed to grow. It wouldn’t stop the rain from falling, though.

  “When Amanda ran out, was she still speaking Lanvarian or had she devolved into crazy?” Sky asked.

  “That’s just it. She was fine,” he said, poking his head outside. “We were griping about work, and we brought all the droids back. We set one up with the mixer so the avalan would stay wet. She let me shower first, and when I turned around, she was gone! I didn’t even hear her go.”

  Sky nodded. Amanda was a former Disappeared, and that meant more than she was good at hiding. It meant she could literally travel through the Spirit Realm in the blink of an eye, although Sky wasn’t convinced she did it at will. “Did you check the cargo holds?”

  “Sky, I have her signal. She’s headed to the bell tower,” Tray interrupted via Vring.

  “Thanks, Tray,” Sky said, syncing her device to Tray’s tracking signal. “Hawk, you stay here. Get the droids started on the patches.”

  “But the rain will wash it all off anyway,” he protested.

  “We still have a few hours, I think,” Sky reassured. “Don’t want to waste the day. I won’t be long.”

  “Sky!” Hawk called after her, chasing her down the ramp.

  Sky turned and raised her eyebrow. If he asked to come with her, she wouldn’t say no.

  “Don’t shoot her,” Hawk said finally, crossing his arms slowly, like he wasn’t sure he wanted them crossed. “I mean—unless you have to. Unless she’s violent. But if she’s just crazy, don’t shoot her. Her arm is barely healed.”

  Smiling, Sky trotted up the ramp and hooked his neck, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

  12

  Tray sat on the second infirmary bed, mulling over the ailing AI, working circulation into his numb fingers. The ship’s computer had a few useful automated functions. When he’d first bought Oriana, he’d spend weeks configuring the onboard computer, only to have that work partially undone any time there was a power reset or automatic update. The computer had an attitude and a few foibles, for sure, but Tray had lost interest in bending it to his will. He focused instead on molding his brother’s bad habits. He wondered if he’d be any kind of useful influence on his son back in Quin.

  Calling up his map of Boone, he overlaid the position from Amanda’s Virp. The virtual interface of the infirmary console wasn’t as efficient as the ward room’s tactile keyboard, but he wasn’t in a great rush to bring Amanda in.

  “She’s passing the cotton candy shop,” Tray reported. The signal was steady; if she was moving, she was doing it slowly.

  “Where?” Sky asked.

  “That building you took us by the other day on the north side. You said they used to sell cotton candy,” Tray reminded her.

  “Skipper, I was just rattling memories,” she sighed.

  “On which every landmark on my map is based,” Tray said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t care whether the entire town was imaginary, only that the quarry was real. “Danny’s going to be upset if he learns the ‘history’ you’ve been feeding him is fiction.”

  “Can I help?” Hawk asked, tiptoeing into the room, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “I thought you were with Sky,” Tray said “Are you sick?”

  “Sky said to start on the patches. But…” Hawk rubbed his arms. “The drones keep buzzing and it hurts my head.”

  “Did any of them follow Sky into the city?” Tray asked.

  “They weren’t flying. It’s the ghost buzz no one else hears,” Hawk said, rubbing his ears. Tray guessed he needed some rest, too.

  Saskia groaned, and Tray pressed his lips together.

  “Check on Saskia, then,” Tray said, watching Hawk hobble to Saskia’s bedside before looking at the screen again.

  “She’s between the bell tower and the park. That was a park, right?” Tray asked.

  “Residential side,” Sky recalled.

  A septic gas filled the room and Tray wrinkled his nose. Before he could cast blame on Hawk, Saskia keened.

  “I didn’t do it! I didn’t hurt her!” Hawk cried, jumping away from the bed.

  “Hawk, I’m helping Sky. Just keep her on the bed,” Tray said. Amanda’s signal flickered, then jumped. Danny cleared his throat, pushing up to his elbows.

  “Go back to sleep, Danny. I’m handling this,” Tray ordered.

  “Badly,” Danny croaked, his head dropping again.

  “Shut up,” Tray griped. “Hawk, you’re doing fine.”

  Saskia whimpered and convulsed, nearly rolling off the bed. Hawk pushed her back to the mattress, bold now that Tray had given him permission to be firm. He caressed Saskia’s face, whispering in Rocanese.

  “Sky, she’s definitely circling back to the tower,” Tray reported. “Are you moving? You’re not moving.”

  “I’m not rushing,” Sky replied.

  “Did I get you sick? I didn’t think I was contagious. Sometimes my kidneys hurt so bad, I want to scream,” Hawk murmured, twirling Saskia’s long, black hair over his fingers.

  “Hawk, you just told me you weren’t sick. How bad is it?” Tray demanded. The nurse-bot had diagnosed Hawk with bladder and kidney infections, which seemed to be getting worse. The pain had him doubled over on the street the other day, shivering despite the heat.

  “Normal bad,” Hawk sniffled, leaning against the wall, squirming because he ached too much to sit. Tray felt for him. It would take half a day with Quin’s medicine to get him back to health, but they had nothing on the ship.

  “Something’s there,” Saskia choked, like she was vomiting the words.

  “Like a stone?” Hawk asked, touching his own hip. He didn’t know how to ask the right questions in Trade. “Is it a burning pain?”

  “In the city,” Saskia said. “Something knocked me down.”

  “Something living?” Tray asked, coming over, running his hand over her shoulder. Saskia twisted in pain, clutching her side. Tray tapped his Feather. “Sky, Saskia may have been attacked by something living.”

  “It’s the ghost. The ghost touched her!” Hawk realized.

  “Hawk, don’t be ridiculous,” Tray said. “Ghosts don’t touch people.”

  “Shot me,” Saskia murmured.

  “That’s what’s there, isn’t it? That’s what you saw?” Hawk asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer before charging out of the infirmary.

  Tray growled in frustration, ripping at his knotted hair.

  “Great job, Tray,” Danny quipped.

  “If you’re not going to sleep, go patch the hull,” Tray huffed, biting his tongue when he saw Saskia wince.

  “I’m trying to sleep. You’re being noisy,” Danny teased, shifting the pillow and fluffing it under his head.

  “You have a bed upstairs.”

  “I can’t make it that far,” Danny said, massaging around his black eye. “Tray, I’m so tired. I’m so tired.”

  Tray’s heart softened at the confession. He found a blanket and covered his brother, even though it was too warm for blankets. They’d blast through their battery stores in no time trying to cool the ship. Danny’s head dropped to the pillow. His sun-darkened skin glistened with sweat, and his dried lips cracked and bled. Dampening a washcloth, Tray dabbed the blood from Danny’s lips, then he laid a cold pack against Danny’s swollen cheek.

  “So tired,” Danny said, rolling his face toward the compress to blot his tears.

  “The hull’s in okay shape and Quin is close,” Tray said. “Get a good night’s rest in. Tomorrow,
we can leave.”

  “Oriana,” Danny agreed, bringing the blanket to his chin. Seeing how the warmth calmed him, Tray got a blanket for Saskia as well.

  “I think any chance we had of convincing Hawk there’s no such thing as ghosts went out the window,” Tray smiled.

  “It’s out there,” she moaned.

  “A ghost?” Tray asked, gently tucking the blanket around her.

  “Something physical. A creature. A girl,” she coughed. “She Disappeared.”

  “Maybe we can convince her to teleport us home,” Tray commented, smoothing back loose strands of her silky hair.

  “The Head of the Terranan Guard magically teleported to our ship via Elysian portal,” Saskia reminded him. “It’s not a joke. Spirits are real, Tray. And they can hurt us.”

  Her body seized and convulsed, another wave of tears overflowing.

  “Is the spirit here? Is that why you keep shaking?” Tray asked, sucking in his cheeks. It was one thing to tease Hawk or humor Amanda, but he couldn’t deny the strange things that had happened since Amanda had come on board.

  “It hurts. I’m shot. It hurts,” she choked through clenched teeth. Tray shuddered, helpless. According to Nolwazi, the pain was all in her head, and given how Amanda’s encounter with Elysian spirits seemed to degrade her psyche, Tray worried it was downhill from here. Going to the console, he called up a manual for flying the ship. He wasn’t going to wait for morning to get out of here.

  13

  The Boone bell tower struck ten and a song began to play. The chime that had been ringing slightly out of tune the past two years was finally fixed.

  “I didn’t know you were back in town,” Brandon crooned, sliding his arms around Sky’s waist. His fingers laced with hers and he pulled her into a dance. “Did you bring me anything new, my sweet Aurelia?”

  “I got lost in the forest and I got scared,” Sky replied, resting her head on his shoulder, enjoying the song.

  “You want to take a joy ride to the plains and look at the stars? I have a new vehicle that can cross the distance in a few hours,” he hummed, dancing her through a spin, then bringing her close again. They were so close to Quin, and yet as a nation, they couldn’t muster the will to close that distance. She thought about taking him and only him. She could save him from the war.

  “I don’t want to be a small speck in a big world tonight. I think up there is all the view I can handle,” she said, tipping her head toward the bell tower.

  “When the chimes stop,” Brandon promised, kissing her neck. “We can go up there and you will be my entire world.”

  The bell tower was dark, and the street silent. Spirit dragged Sky down, demanding rest, and although she’d learned a new trick to closing her eyes in the Drava camp, she could only sustain the peace for a few minutes. When she came to the city—when she remembered Brandon—it was restful without sleep.

  It had been nearly a week and Sky still could not believe all of these people were gone. The machines were all that remained of Boone, and while they held a wealth of data, they did not contain the stories, or the lives of the people who created them. It made Sky fear staying on Oriana too much longer. The ship was already feeling like home, and the crew, like family. They were not safe from annihilation any more than the people of Boone. She needed to leave before death found them … before she brought death to them.

  Sky stepped through the doorway into the bell tower, stopping short at the threshold. There was so much missing—tables, curtains, people. The bell tower was a social center, and there were competition games that went on in the vestibules. The joyful echoes were part of its charm. Sky switched on her Virp light and shone it around the room, feeling as though every shadow was the ghost of a friend.

  “Amanda?” Sky called, seeing fresh blood on the railing of the ramp that bordered the tower. Steeling her nerves, she climbed the ramp, averting her eyes from the vestibules that had the most potent memories. The bells in the top chamber were gone, as were the ropes and crossbeams. The structure remaining was the minimal amount required to keep the tower upright.

  “I hear you!” Amanda’s voice echoed. Picking up the pace, Sky emerged into the daylight of the open vestibule where the bell chimes used to hang. Amanda lay on the stone floor, her shirt and neck smeared with blood.

  “Hay nah!” Sky exclaimed, drawing her weapon. The narrow walkway extended around the perimeter of the tower, keeping her from seeing any danger.

  “Sky?” Amanda sniffled, rolling onto her side, cradling her hand to her chest. “It can’t be you.”

  “It really is,” Sky said, taking a knee, checking the severity of Amanda’s injuries. She’d only just gotten out of the sling that morning, and her arm was atrophied.

  “Did you feel this?” Amanda asked, turning her hand for Sky to see the deep gash across it. She’d cut herself like that before, when she sensed something spirit-like come near.

  “No, we tracked your Virp,” Sky said, putting pressure on the wound. It appeared all the other blood had transferred from the single injury.

  “Then she’s not coming,” Amanda groaned, her body shaking, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Who’s not?” Sky asked, pulling Amanda onto her lap, testing to see whether the girl could sit up or needed to be carried.

  “The girl, Liza. Saskia saw her here; it had to be her. This is where she comes to watch us,” Amanda rambled.

  “But you didn’t see her? You didn’t see anything physical?” Sky checked.

  “Yes. No. Yes,” Amanda said, digging her nails into her cheek. “She’s not a half-breed like Galen. I saw something else.”

  “If she’s not like Galen, why did you cut your hand?” Sky asked. Amanda had strange insight into the Spirit Realm, but it was difficult to parse her schizophrenic hallucinations from the supernatural insight.

  “To draw her from the bubble,” she said cryptically. “Hawk—he sees so much, but he doesn’t understand the world, so he keeps his eyes closed. Otherwise, it’s like you’re hallucinating, and you just lose time and people think you’re crazy.

  Sky shivered. She knew Hawk was different, but she didn’t like what Amanda described. “Let it be, Amanda. Demons from that realm are not meant to be poked.”

  “She’s a human. A physical person. Saskia saw her. Hawk calls her the ghost. A human and a spirit. A very powerful hybrid,” Amanda continued.

  “That’s what a half-breed is. Half-human, half-spirit,” Sky said.

  “No,” Amanda snickered, swatting at Sky. “Half-breeds are spirits in physical form. Hybrids are humans with spirit power.”

  Amanda scooted her head onto Sky’s lap, squinting to adjust her Occ. “Sky, I’m scared. The hybrid keeps coming into my head. Every time you take us some place new in the city, I remember it. She remembers it. She remembers the candy store and the swings in the park. She remembers the twisting vines and the tall trees, and the gravity is all wrong in my head because I remember her gravity. Now I see the city from up here, and it looks familiar, like I’ve been here before.”

  “This is a deep cut, Pip. I didn’t bring a knitter,” Sky said, stroking Amanda’s hair. Amanda cocked her head at the new moniker, feeling it was more appropriate for the hybrid than for her.

  “It wouldn’t matter if she’d just show up,” Amanda said, shouting the last two words. Sitting up, she smacked her hand against her thigh, spattering blood on her clothes. “I did this to bring you here!”

  “There’s just one hybrid, right?” Sky checked.

  Amanda shrugged, but even one hybrid was more than Sky wanted to deal with.

  “Come on. Let’s get back to the ship,” Sky said, taking advantage of Amanda’s apparent mobility and pulling the girl to her feet.

  “No,” Amanda snapped, yanking free of Sky’s grip, stumbling into the rickety, stone railing. It was easily a ten-story fall to the street. “She directed us off course; she makes us stay. Every day, we want to go, and we don’t. I’m not goi
ng to talk to her in my head anymore! Saskia saw her. I know she’s real. I know she is! Come out, Liza! Come out!”

  “You don’t have to yell, Amanda!” a young girl griped, tiptoeing barefoot across the vestibule. She was a short redhead, probably somewhere in her teens. Her linen clothes were aged, but embroidered with care. Sky nearly had a heart attack.

  “You are real,” Amanda gasped. Sky hooked an arm across Amanda’s chest to keep her from attacking the newcomer.

  “Where did you come from?” Sky asked. Between talk of hybrids, half-breeds, and ghosts, she had not expected to see a physical person.

  “I live here. I was born here,” the girl replied. Sky reeled. A survivor!

  “She’s real,” Amanda said, wilting against Sky. “It worked. She came.”

  “I have been here. It is you who finally came to me,” Liza said, clasping her hands in front of her. The bruises and scars on her fingers suggested that she worked the land, but there was no land in Boone fertile enough to work.

  “What happened to the city? What happened to all the people in Boone?” Sky asked, desperation coating her voice.

  “There was a war,” Liza shrugged. “They triggered their weapon. Then they were gone.”

  “But not you?”

  “We retreated to the forest to find help,” she explained, fidgeting in a way that made her look even younger.

  “We? How many survivors are there?” Sky asked. “Is anyone else here?”

  “We are many, but we’re hidden,” she said.

  “Can you take me to them?” Sky asked. “Are they hidden in Boone?”

  “It’s complicated,” Liza said, cocking her head, studying Sky. “You’re more than I thought. Can you help them?”

  “Yes,” Sky gushed.

  “Stop,” Amanda interjected. Liza frowned, ignoring Sky and turning her attention to Amanda. Amanda took a step forward, but Sky dragged her back. “Don’t look at her. Focus on me. Liza, tell me why you’re keeping us here.”

  Amanda reached out her hand and Liza took it. The connection triggered something in the other realm. Sky felt Spirit rise and her lungs close.