by E L Strife
“You are—” An invisible source of pressure squeezed around his spine. Bennet jerked his shoulders to shrug off the reminder. “I can’t discuss it. I don’t know what the consequences are. Except, I get the feeling it might end the universe.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. I guess I am beneath that level. Well, when you can talk, please do. I like our conversations.”
“Me too.” He smiled briefly.
She looked at the hall behind them again.
Bennett tilted to scan for what had her attention.
Something soft landed on his cheek. Heated breath fell over his ear, sending a flood of goosebumps crawling down his neck and shoulder.
“You’re a good man, Jameson,” she whispered. Don’t ever change.
Atana slipped away and entered the replication lab before he could reach out and stop her to ask why she would do such a thing.
Fingering the moisture cooling his skin, he mulled over her behavior. Atana, he was sure, had now broken every rule in UP’s book. Placing his damp fingers to his mouth, he savored the sweet-spice of her kiss.
Bennett watched her move around inside the lab, her curvy figure leaning over a controlled environment table beside Teek. He traced her outline once more then forced himself to walk away.
Heading for Tactical Simulation on Level Five, befuddlement snuggled itself into his every thought. If she wasn’t a prodigy, she’d have been punished for insubordination long ago.
His wristband let out an audible alert as he stepped out into the hall. Glancing down, he saw it was from Panton.
Can you come to my room when you have a chance? Thanks.
Bennett smiled and changed course. Panton’s lung had healed enough that he was out of the danger zone. The team’s “brute force” and Josie’s guard had survived the bullet because of Atana and her brother. Bennett had lost track of how many times he owed Atana for saving him and his team.
Climbing the stairs back to Level Two, Bennett couldn’t help a slight bounce in his step. Passing the Central Auditorium and the Staging Area, he entered the Medical Wing and found Panton’s door.
Bennett knocked and entered upon request.
Panton’s brown hair was askew in matted tufts, and his skin pale. But his dark eyes were open and focused, to Bennett’s relief.
“Sir.” Panton cleared his throat as he struggled to push his large body up in bed. “I started therapy yesterday.”
Beside the bed, Josie stood in a wrinkled uniform, wisps of red hair loosened from her ponytail. “Lavrion’s been in here every day, healing him. But Josh still has to sleep for several hours after. I don’t see how he’s going to be ready to fight, sir.”
Bennett shoved his hands in his pockets and rested against the wall. “It’s okay. He’s released from this mission.”
“Josie?” Panton coughed. Bennett thought it sounded a little forced. “I’m hungry.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. What do you want, love?” Her porcelain cheeks flushed like two roses in snow. She glanced in Bennett’s direction as Panton poorly hid his smile.
“Ice cream?”
“You would,” Josie playfully gibed.
After she’d stepped out, Bennett took the chair beside Panton’s bed. “All right, spill it.”
Panton’s gaze settled on him. He wrapped a meaty hand around his bandaged lung. “You’re—not human anymore, right? So I’m the only one left on our team? I mean, even Sprinkles has remnant DNA of something alien.”
“Sprinkles?”
“Tanner. So give it to me straight, B. Josie won’t tell me shit about what’s going on outside of this room.”
“There’s still some fighting among different species,” Bennett admitted, resting back in the chair and crossing his arms. “Humans tend to take shelter when the others come out to play. They learned fast not to pick a fight with most other kiatna, aliens. And remember, I’m human too, just have a stronger spark in my heart.”
“A mild way of putting it, with respect, sir.” Panton chuckled lightly, easily. His eyes darted to the clock.
Bennett watched him reach under his pillow and move something. “What’s that?”
“N-nothing.”
“Bull.” Bennett stood and crammed his hand under the pillow, drawing out an IV injector. He traced the tubing around to Panton’s injured side. “What is this?” he demanded, fingering a cylinder of pink fluid.
Panton grumbled, snatched it from of Bennett’s hand, and tucked it back in place.
“Spit it out.”
“I said— It’s RapidGen Stimulant.” Panton glanced up at him. “I won’t lie in a fucking bed while my planet needs me. I’m milking this for everything I can, so I can fight when they come. Just—” His eyes flicked at the door. “Don’t tell her.”
The tension Bennett felt over the matter eased, and he sank back in the chair. “If you overdose on this, you’ll be back to fighting for your life.” He pointed behind Panton. “And if Command or any of the staff catch you with it—”
“For a battle like this, would you not do the same?”
Bennett knew Panton was right and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a sigh.
“How much time do I have?” Panton asked.
The man’s question sent Bennett’s mind racing through a rush of visions.
Disintegrating ships. Fragmented glass. Missile trails and blood—red as Suanoan plasma.
Bennett braced his throbbing head in his hands and closed his eyes.
“Sir?”
“Days at best.” Bennett strained to look up. “It isn’t enough time for any of us.”
The silence of the cool room was broken up by the increasing peeps from Panton’s heart monitor. With his deep breath, they slowed again. Panton rested his head back on the pillow in defeat. “Screw. Why’d this have to happen now?” He tried to shift himself again, but grunted and gave up. “Damn body’s not doin’ what I want it to.”
“At least you’re still alive. Most of the time that type of injury—”
“Yeah, I know. I’m lucky.” Panton said it as though the words were bitter on his tongue. “What position do you have Josie assigned to for the Kyra mission?”
Resting his mouth on his folded hands, Bennett tried to figure out how to let the man down without risking his health. But no matter of tone or niceties could change the facts. “She’s leading the defense squadron for Space Station Hope. Command assigned her to our only operational 501-Razor.”
Panton’s peeling lips fell open. “That’s a solo ship.”
“I’ve assigned five of our Euli and Kojaqx prime dogfighters to be under her command. I can’t pull anyone else.” Bennett rubbed a hand over the base of his stiff neck.
Panton closed his eyes. “Bennett, I—”
“You love her. I know.”
Panton stilled in bed. “How?”
“I see it in your eyes when you two are together. Not to mention, I’m also telepathic now so—” Bennett tapped a finger to his temple and shrugged coyly.
“Awe shit, you heard my comment about her ass as she walked out the door.”
Bennett let out a single laugh. “If only you knew what she thought about you.”
Panton stilled. “What do you mean?”
“They only had mint chocolate chip, baby,” Josie said as she pushed through the door, a large bowl between her petite hands.
Bennett stood, figuring his time was up.
“So I had them put extra chocolate syrup—” She trailed off when she looked up at Bennett.
“That talk better stay in here, understood?” Bennett said, chewing the inside of a cheek to keep from smiling.
“Y-yes, sir.” She set the ice cream on the rolling table and slid it in front of Panton.
“Josandizer, I need you to read and confirm your mission, a.s.a.p.” Bennett walked to the door. “I want you running practice flights tonight.”
A protest formed on her lips, but
Bennett cut her off.
“He’ll be fine, sergeant. He’s tougher than you think.”
Behind her, Panton silently mouthed a thank you.
Pulling the door open, Bennett stepped outside. After it shut, he leaned against it and wondered if he’d made the right decision letting Josie be alone on this mission.
The walls muffled Panton’s grumbles. “Can’t you sit up here with me and feed me?”
“Fine. I’m sorry. They didn’t have the chocolate ice cream,” Josie’s soprano voice replied.
“It’s okay. This is green like the eyes that are so beautiful I could eat them up too.”
Josie scoffed. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”
A jovial growl rumbled out from Panton’s throat. “Not when I know you taste so good.”
Josie screeched a laugh that made Bennett squirm. If he didn’t do his job right, those sounds could be lost forever. Not just from members of his team, but from Earth and Agutra too.
Bennett understood now why his father smiled so much less these days than what he remembered as a child.
The lights of the hallway suddenly blasted brighter. Bennett covered his eyes and stumbled off, aching to get away. Finding a wing shut down for repairs, he broke through the tape and tucked himself in the darkest corner. Sliding to sit against the wall, he braced his head with his hands.
Meditation didn’t alleviate the guilt or worry. Breaking punching bags didn’t ease his building energy. And sleep just wasn’t. The only way to calm his mind was to work at a pace others couldn’t. Pressing his palms into his temples, he shoved back the headache and forced himself to stand. Eating was still out of the question despite his hunger. Coffee was all he could tolerate. It would have to do.
The walk to the lunch hall passed with agonizing slowness. Teams rushed by him toward the staging area, flight simulation, and labs carrying tools and weapons and space-flight gear.
He was responsible for this, for them. He hated deciding their fate.
Walking up to the lunch counter, he greeted the server, a woman with white streaks in her gray updo. “A shot in the dark, please? Large.”
She returned quickly with a steaming paper cup, setting two calcium tabs beside it. “You’re going to give yourself heartburn if you keep this up, Sergeant Bennett.”
Taking the cup in hand, Bennett knew he should’ve felt the heat beneath his fingertips. But relative to the fire brewing inside, the paper felt almost cold.
“Already there.”
Chapter 10
PORTS GLOWED IN THE PLEXIGLASS as Atana slid her hands inside the isolation chamber. The Linéten’s nanos were slower to respond to her commands, the composition containing a different element than Linoan metals. It also wasn’t as conductive as the rhizoras material she’d salvaged from panels from the collector underbellies or cataloged on Earth’s periodic table.
Rolling a ball around in her bare palm, she envisioned a knife. Atana could touch the metals where most shepherds needed rubber gloves to avoid injury. The mass of metal morphed into a blade.
Linéten metal is still effective.
Atana withdrew her arms from the chamber and placed the orb back in a locked drawer beside the others. Picking up the Linoan ArcBow with both hands, she wondered which galaxy Linétens were from.
Must be near Primvera if they’ve been at war for centuries.
She’d discovered the nanometals of the bow absorbed electrical impulses of the handler, a modification to weaponry Atana assumed compensated the Linoans and Linétens for their telepathic disadvantage.
Linéten orbs fed more on life, which is why she had to override the command with death so it would retreat, assuming its task was complete. Linoan ArcBows fed on anger. Smart design. Linoans are still slaves to Suanoa. Keep them pissed, and they’ll fight forever.
She had plenty of fuel. Atana grinned darkly as the bow snapped alight, casting its bold carmine hues into the room. She spun it, stepping into an open area between design tables. The flaming strings didn’t drag through the air as she’d anticipated. Heat trailed in the wake, leaving behind a scent of creosote.
Swinging it in a circle at her side, she listened to the heightened vibration in the hum. Its pair of strings cut instantaneously but could leave only charred lines if she pulled her punch at the right moment. The pile of split crates on the supply dock was verification.
One crate would’ve sufficed.
Teek jolted beside her, a yelp slipping out. She glanced over at him. His sun-yellow eyes were wide with fear. Right, Teek doesn’t like fire. She shut the device off and rested its black arc back on the pegs in the transparent cabinet.
“Sorry, I scared you.” She shifted over to Teek’s station, where he was completing his last circuit system rebuild for collector modules. “Finding everything you need?”
“Yes.” His tail curled up in delight. “Azure want new jumper for life-slot bomb release.”
“Noted. But get some sleep and food at some point,” Atana reminded over her shoulder as she locked the isolation chamber and walked to the doors.
Teek made a sound which she interpreted as a disgruntled ‘okay.’
In the shadows of a mostly-sleeping Home Station, Atana let her shoulders slump. The urge to crawl to bed was strong, but she hadn’t checked in with her brother in a while. Climbing two floors to the group room she’d assigned Azure’s team, she forced herself upright and knocked.
At a clack of metal, the door cracked open, and a pair of sleepy blue eyes peaked out. Lavrion looked beat. “Hey, come in.”
Not moving from her position, she glanced around at the room at pressed uniforms, hairpins, blades, sharpening tools and messy beds. “Have you seen the girls?”
He sat on his tightly made bed. “Ramura is working for Azure at a bench, prepping parts. Amianna is with Tanner in Tech Integration, studying the Slashgates. Imara is training shepherds on fighting Linoans in Gym Five.”
The concept of family was so far in the past Atana wasn’t sure how to ask what was on her mind. Lavrion shared her cheekbones and eye color, but looking the part and feeling it, knowing it, was something entirely different.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, but could we go topside and talk?” she asked.
“Broken sleep is normal, and I would love to get out of this box.” He leaned back and snatched up his ratted, sun-bleached sweatshirt from the bed.
Atana squinted at the tired fabric. “Didn’t you get my package of clothing and supplies?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he sighed. “Haven’t had a chance to change with all the girls in here earlier. They kind of took over the room. And then I crashed.” Lavrion slipped his arms into his sleeves.
They climbed the stairs to the elevators in the staging area. The doors pinged open, and they stepped inside.
“How are things going under Dr. Tieshna’s direction?” Atana asked, tucking her hands behind her as the elevator ascended.
“Good,” Lavrion said, combing his long blond bangs back with his fingers. “She has me monitoring the recovery rooms. I’ve been checking on Panton a lot. The Kronos must’ve scrambled to pull their forces together, not taken the usual time to poison bullets, thank the heavens.”
The elevator stopped and opened to the starlit, grassy field atop Home Station.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, and you had to go through getting sucked up in a collector,” she admitted.
“It’s okay. I have an experience to help me understand others.”
Spoken like a true Mirramor, she said.
They hiked up the hill to a landing on the opposite side of the island. The breeze wrapped its warm, salted arms around her—a small comfort against the chill in her heart. Atana sat in the plush, sweet-scented meadow. Lavrion joined her.
Faint howls of wind through the cragged peaks made her smile inside and think of her father. The stars above twinkled like beacons of hope. Drawing in a calming breath, she decided the time had come to admit wha
t she’d seen in her dreams.
“I think I killed your father.”
Lavrion leaned back, smiling at the light-freckled sky and nodded. You did. I know. And you don’t have to apologize. He was a terrible man. “I have always known.”
Where’s Ma?
Lavrion tucked his knees up to his chest and peered over at the rocky cliffs below. I don’t know. She demanded I find you. Mumbled about Tivar, your father, returning. The next morning, she was gone. I searched the woods around our home and couldn’t find any tracks.
Hearing her father’s name again made Atana’s head spin. A hand braced her shoulder as sound and sight faded into nothingness.
Bursts of light consumed her mind-space. Heavy compression waves pelted her body, each one carrying thunder on its back. She tasted iron in the air beneath the acrid scents of smoke and burning flesh.
Squinting into the center of the explosion, she made out a face staring at her: two stripes touching points over his nose, bold eyes piercing the fiery torrent of white. It’s what we are—
Are you okay? Lavrion’s words ripped through the image around her. “Sahara?”
She gasped and braced her head with her hands, trying to stabilize her position in the tipping land.
The blasts and wreckage were moving too fast—a whirlwind of bodies and ash. Her stomach hurt with cold. Blinking against the violent light storm pelting her body, she fought to hold her father’s gaze.
Lavrion leaned over and gingerly pulled their foreheads together. “Let me help.”
His voice was euphonious and gentle in her ears. Atana sank into his comforting presence: his hands steadying her shoulders, the contact of his forehead tuning the vision.
Through the glass walls of a different Agutran abaddon deck, she saw a planet shrouded in storms. Blue lightning crawled across the sky. Bloodied magma spurted out from the clouds until it consumed the surface.
Vioras.
