“That’s a new one. We haven’t seen one like this before,” Danny said, showing Amanda the bot. Amanda stood and brushed out her clothes, trying to look annoyed. Her skin was flush, and she put her hands out to balance herself. The adrenaline rush had taken a quick toll.
“Is that what you’re so excited about?” Danny asked Hawk.
Hawk cocked his head, mouthing the words he’d heard, like he couldn’t remember their meaning. “Ghost,” he finally whispered.
“Hawk, did you see the girl again?” Danny asked. “It’s been three days and there has been no sign of her. Three days. Do you understand?”
Hawk tapped the bot, touched his ear, then set the bot down and touched Danny’s Virp.
“Use words. I don’t care if they’re Rocanese and I don’t understand them, but I want you to speak,” Danny said patiently, sitting on the ground.
Hawk’s jaw flapped, and he murmured in Rocanese while tapping the casing of the little bot. It was rounded, like a beetle with six little wheels instead of legs.
Amanda picked up the bot, scrutinizing it, nearly dropping it when a light came on and its voice projected.
“I would like to meet you at the bell tower. I will tell you the time,” the bot said, although it sounded like a recorded message. The voice was more high-pitched than the smooth, deep resonant bot voice.
Hawk nodded and tapped Danny’s Virp, pressing a button that translated the message into Trade.
“That message,” he stuttered, looking at the Virp. “A ghost is coming.”
Tray’s nose itched, and the itch spread to his brain. He stood in the middle of a quaint, but recently used kitchen, surveying the space as if it held the key to understanding their captivity. The unit was almost perfectly preserved, compared to the others on this street. The smell of cooked meat wafted from the smoker outside the kitchen door, but Tray had checked. There was no food.
“I smell it, too, now,” Saskia said, her voice startling him from his reverie.
“Why now?” Tray asked. There was a sink fixture, but no running water. He wanted to wipe the sweat and dirt off his face, but his sleeve wasn’t clean enough. Nothing was. He’d given up on clean, dry clothes. His once neat cornrows were frizzed and caked with debris. Any soap they’d had was long gone, and no amount of rinsing and scrubbing could get the grimy feel off of his skin. Tray could picture the stern, disapproving ‘I told you so’ look on his father’s face if he saw him like this.
“We knew there was a survivor,” Saskia commented, coming next to him and offering her canteen. “Maybe she is out hunting. Just as we need to do.”
“I can’t tell if the pots are warm from cooking or if it’s that hot inside the Dome,” Tray said, leaning against the counter top and trying to take a drink without getting dirt on the bottle.
“Looks recent,” she frowned, giving it a sniff. “Only a few hours old from the smell.”
“Where did she go?” Tray sighed. “If she could show us where to find food, that could save us so much time.”
“There are no chicken farms in the Dome. She hunted wild game, Tray,” Saskia said. “That means she has a weapon.”
Saskia gave the kitchen a cursory glance, then leaned next to him and took his hand. He couldn’t help but smile at the touch. On Oriana, the cramped sleeping arrangements had given them an excuse to experiment with physical closeness, but not intimacy. Tray wasn’t sure if it was the secretiveness that made it exciting, but it was a welcome connection because it meant she’d talk about something besides work.
“You realize it’s weird for…” Tray began. Then, thinking better of it, he gave her hand a tug, and took her on a walk, away from the disappointingly empty kitchen. He was too hungry to stare at an empty pot, and he wanted to get off the plateau and into the jungle below before nightfall.
“We could hunt. You and I. I’d feel safer,” Tray said.
“We could,” Saskia agreed. “Have you ever been to that place in Kemah that serves fish from the bay?”
“God yes. Which one?” Tray gushed, laughing at the sudden yearning he felt for any fish meal.
“They have this mixed drink—something peach.”
“The Double-moon Sunrise, yes!” Tray said smiling ear to ear, remembering the taste of the drink. “It is peach and, um—”
“Cherry.”
“Not cherry. Some other berry.”
“I like it frozen,” Saskia said, closing her eyes. Her thin lips nearly disappeared in a soft smile. Her skin looked so clean compared to his.
“That sounds good,” Tray groaned, squeezing her hand and walking a little closer. The conversation moved easily from there, and they spoke happily about their favorite places in Quin. Tray found himself transfixed by her face. He’d never seen it so full of joy. Her lips moved toward his, but Tray ducked away.
“I’m filthy,” he murmured, feeling the mud crust on his skin.
“I don’t care.” Her breath against his neck made him shudder with need.
“I do.” He looked up, lacking the strength to back away. “It’s a bad idea to start something like this.”
“We don’t have to start anything. We don’t have to extend anything beyond this moment.” Her fingers moved down his arms, and all he could feel was the grit on his skin.
“I’ve made that mistake before,” Tray said, his teeth chattering, his mind flashing back to high school, when all he wanted was to impress a girl. “So focused on the moment, that I sabotaged the rest of my life. There’s too much to lose.”
“What do you think you’re losing by kissing me?” she laughed, keeping her body pressed close to his, just as they’d been last night when they slept in that room together.
“Mikayla,” he said.
Saskia backed off at the mention of his ex-wife, a look of betrayal in her eyes.
“Not like that,” Tray said, reaching for her again, then retracting his hand, realizing he had no right. “I was supposed to meet her in Kemah. I was planning to leave Oriana to be with… I was planning to leave the business.”
“I see,” Saskia said coolly, brushing past him, and hurrying for the gate. A day hunting food with her was rapidly losing its appeal.
“Saskia, it’s not what you think,” he said, touching her elbow. She stopped at the gate, keeping her back turned, watching the rain fall while he mustered his courage. The ship looked a million miles away, a haze of steam coming off its avalan-coated hull.
“She has a son,” Tray blurted out, his stomach dropping. He weighed the pros and cons of confiding in Saskia about his son, but figured when he left Oriana, their friendship would dissolve and she’d forget him anyway. “I haven’t met him before, but I was supposed to.”
“Why would you meet with your ex-wife’s son. Unless… Tray, are you saying he’s your son?” Saskia exclaimed.
“I am,” Tray said, his heart twisting. Even though he couldn’t have known, he felt guilty for not being there for his boy. Every day he couldn’t explain himself was another day his kid could spend building up bitterness and resentment toward him. “I mean to stay with them. If we ever get out of here. I’m already abandoning my brother. It’s best we don’t start something…”
“Too late,” she said, crossing her arms, any trace of openness dissolving. He wanted to tell her more, but the ground shook, and the loading dock archway leading to the east side of town collapsed.
21
“Captain!” Hawk hollered, jumping behind Danny.
“I’m here,” Danny said, spinning around to hook Hawk’s elbow. He was so startled to hear Hawk call him by title that he nearly missed the cause of the alarm.
“It’s a man,” Amanda said, staring dumbstruck. “Why is there a man?”
A young man stood in the middle of the street. He was tall, blond, and lean, with the watchful eye of a hunter. His teeth were stained and his skin scabbed from years of poor medical care. He had a string of dead, plucked birds slung over one shoulder.
“Les oiseaux. Les oiseaux!” Hawk moaned, fisting Danny’s shirt, hiding his eyes.
“Calm down, Hawk,” Danny soothed, not recognizing the Rocanese word. “We’ve been hoping to find survivors. Let’s see if he can help us.”
He put an arm around Hawk, but Hawk shuddered and ducked out of Danny’s arms. “He killed the oiseaux. And he’s wearing them,” Hawk sobbed.
“Birds,” Danny smiled, realizing the Trade word that Hawk was searching for. His stomach growled. “Smells more like he roasted them. I’m hoping it’s a peace offering. A shared meal.”
“I don’t want to share the dead birds!”
“If you’re not starving enough to brave it, then don’t. More for the rest of us,” Danny smirked, touching his head, then stepping between Hawk and the stranger.
“Where is Liza?” Amanda asked introspectively.
“Hello!” Danny called, waving at the young man, but keeping his distance. “Do you speak Trade?”
The man looked around, like he expected Danny to be addressing someone else.
“My name is Danny Matthews. We came on the ship that’s parked outside the gate.”
The man shrugged the string of birds off his shoulder, offering it to Danny. “Are you leaving?” he asked in Lanvarian. Danny took a breath. It made sense that the man spoke Lanvarian, because the droids and bots did, as did the nomadic tribes they’d encountered in the region. He was too hungry to think, and the birds had him salivating.
“As soon as we figure out how to disable the drones. They aren’t letting us leave,” Danny said, switching to Lanvarian. “My name is Danny.”
“Kerris. The drones aren’t keeping you here,” Kerris said, shaking the string of birds. There were four birds, not more than a pound each. They’d been drained of blood and smelled of smoke. There was a layer of dust on one side, and the other had clearly been rubbing against Kerris’ clothes. His garments were embroidered along the collar, suggesting they’d been made with great care and at some point had been lovely.
“Maybe we can share a meal and you can help me understand,” Danny offered, taking the birds. Kerris seemed surprised, looking at his hand as if he weren’t expecting it to be empty. Then he touched Danny. Amanda did the same thing when she was trying to shake off a hallucination and reassert reality.
“You didn’t hunt these birds here, did you?” Danny asked. “Does that mean you can get off the plateau?”
Kerris nodded.
Muttering a prayer of gratitude, Danny handed the birds to Amanda. Tray and Saskia might get some help from this survivor, and that was more than he could have hoped for.
“What did you do? What you whispered just now,” Kerris said, stepping closer, his finger tracing Danny’s lip.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I made a sound,” Danny said, leaning away, pushing off Kerris’ hand. “It’s, um, a cultural thing.”
“I haven’t heard a prayer since I was taken,” he whispered, ducking his head. “By the Praet.”
“In the war?” Danny asked. He recognized the faction name from Sky’s story. “You’re not new to the city. You were here during the war?”
Kerris rocked back and forth, his ears getting red. “Can you do it again?”
“What? Pray?” Danny asked.
“Never mind,” Kerris murmured, the flush spreading down his cheeks and neck.
“It’s all right, son.”
“No. No, you can’t call me that!” Kerris exclaimed, backing away. The ground under their feet rumbled, but Kerris didn’t lose his footing. “People die when they call me that. I don’t want another father to die.”
“It’s another cultural thing. It just means I’m older than you,” Danny said, holding up his hands in surrender. A droid came around the street, moving into a protective position next to Kerris. “We’re just talking,” Danny reassured. He didn’t know if the droid was Kerris’ captor or servant.
“He needs a hug, Danny. Give him a hug,” Amanda insisted.
“We don’t know anything about his culture,” Danny said, pulling Amanda back. There was another droid approaching. “The droids could misinterpret my intention.”
Hawk leapt to his feet, rushing past Danny and giving Kerris a hug. They both seemed relieved. The first droid stood down, and the second kept its distance.
“No more killing birds,” Hawk said in Trade, talking into Kerris’ ear.
“What did he say?” Kerris asked, too afraid to put his head down on Hawk’s shoulder, but twitching in that direction, yearning to do so.
“He said we’ll help you,” Danny said.
“Oh. Okay,” Kerris sniffled, his eyelids fluttering, like he wanted to close them but couldn’t muster the trust. “Thank you.”
Tray shuddered when Saskia grabbed his arm, hustling him down the road. All the efforts he’d made to get comfortable with physical contact had flown out the window when she tried to kiss him. His added confession about his son made him sick to his stomach. Here they were, tromping through the city, when they should have been flying home. He felt like he’d betrayed his son every day they let the weather win.
“We feel a quake; we muster at the ship. Those are the rules,” Saskia said. “No comms means we have to muster.”
“Sometimes the buildings shake, but not the ground.” The female voice beside them stopped them both in their tracks. Saskia drew her power-drained stunner, but Tray stayed her hand. The young girl facing them took his breath away. She had soft, red hair that fell unevenly around her shoulders, like it had been cut with a crude knife. Her skin was free of blemishes, and she smelled faintly of flowers. Her clothing was coarse and ill-fitting, ragged at the hems.
“Do you recognize her?” Tray asked Saskia. This had to be the ghost girl.
“Should I?” Saskia asked, shifting foot-to-foot, fingers twitching on her stunner. She had a twelve-hour gap in her memory from that day, and Tray envied her oblivion to the traumatic stress reaction she’d had. Tray wondered if Hawk had a similar gap—and if they’d ever get him speaking Trade long enough to know. “The girl is here. Where is the food she was making?”
“Hello. I’m Tray Matthews,” Tray said, stepping forward, smoothing his clothes, frustrated that the move only served to cover his hands in mud. “This is my friend Saskia.”
“Don’t clean up,” she smiled, clasping her hands behind her back. “All this time I’ve been watching you, I’ve felt too dirty to talk to you. Now we’re on even footing.”
“We were looking for survivors. For someone who could tell us how the drones are controlled,” Tray explained.
“The drones are harmless. They’re mostly defensive,” she said, sauntering closer. Her voice had a childlike quality, and by the curve of her hip, Tray guessed her to be somewhere in her late teens.
“They shot my friend,” Tray said, motioning to Saskia. “She has a burn on her shoulder.”
“You’re sure Sky didn’t shoot her?” the girl asked.
“Pretty sure. You know about Sky?” Tray felt his body temperature rising, and he wasn’t sure if it was from her physical closeness or the fact that she’d been stalking them and knew Sky by name.
“The Xentu called her Aurelia. We can keep walking. My brother is bringing your friends to the bell tower,” the girl said, taking his hand.
“Your brother?” Tray repeated, shaking his hand free. “So you aren’t alone. Are you a survivor or part of a tribe? Did your people settle here?”
“This is home. We are, as you say, survivors. We tried to settle elsewhere, but we came home. Just for a little while. To remember.”
“How long have you been here?” Tray asked.
“Long enough to get lonely,” she sighed. “Kerris is scared of strangers.”
“Excuse me, strange girl,” Saskia said, pushing between them, separating their hands. “What is your name? Why were you stalking us? And what do you know about the drones? And that kitchen. You hunted something. Is there local game we can hunt to f
eed our crew?”
“Saskia,” Tray admonished.
The girl glowered, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes narrowed, and Tray felt trouble stirring. Suddenly, he was flashing back to the look his father got before he lashed out in a jealous rage.
The leather strap whipped across Tray’s cheek. Any hope of convincing his father of the innocence of his intentions vanished with that first strike. His school teacher insisted it would be simple—use the Quin network to create a family tree. It was such a common project, that it was considered a right of passage for ten-year-olds in Clover.
“Who did you find?” his father demanded.
“No one, sir,” Tray said, loudly enough so that he couldn’t be accused of mumbling, but quietly enough so that his father wouldn’t hear his voice crack.
“That’s right,” his father growled, smacking Tray’s face again. “I am the start and end of your family line, Tray Hale. You do not look beyond that.”
“Yes, sir,” Tray said. “You are my family. My entire family. There is no one but you.”
The strap hit him across the cheek. “What was that?”
“There is no one but you, sir,” Tray amended.
Tray felt a hand touch his cheek and jerked back. Liza’s expression had softened to one of concern, but that too was familiar and confusing.
“Liza!” a man shouted, running up behind them.
“Tray!” Danny’s boots thudded heavily on the beaten stone path.
Tray felt Saskia’s face pressing against his shoulder and her hands clamped around his arm. He pulled away, worried that Danny would be jealous, but Saskia stayed glued to his side.
“Saskia, let go,” he whispered, overwhelmed by the irrational fear.
There is no one but you, sir.
“I think I’m remembering what happened the last time,” Saskia began, her voice hitching. “Have I been shot?”
“Sit down. I need you to let go of me. Please. Something’s happening to me, too,” Tray said.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” the girl grumbled, shoving Saskia into Tray’s back then stalking over to the man who had called her name. “Kerris, we were coming to you!” she cried. “I haven’t even introduced myself yet!”
Hybrid: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 4) Page 19
