by E L Strife
Tivar called to her, not in words, but spark-to-spark.
We must because we can.
“Pa,” her lips quivered.
In his last breaths, he stood tall and proud in his metal casket, eyes locked on her, perhaps realizing he would not get to watch her grow nor see his home or his wife again. Remember this night.
Atana lurched forward into the blinding madness on instinct, trying to reach for a piece of him. “Pa!”
The room shuddered and burst into a trillion particles of iridescent stardust, falling like the first crystals of snow.
Hands shook her, extracting her from the dark. The vision popped with a rush of pressure draining from her head. She fell sideways into Lavrion’s arms, trembling, gasping for air, crying until the tears faded, and her breathing slowed.
Atana clung to her brother’s sweatshirt, to the scents of pine trees, fresh rain on river stone, of honeysuckle and baked bread. Or maybe he just evoked a memory from the cabin. She closed her eyes and lingered in its familiarity.
“He felt so alone,” she said between sniffles. “So sad and cold and pained.”
“I felt it too.” Lavrion cooed, snuggling her close to his chest. “Someone showed Ma. She never told me who.”
Gazing up into her brother’s eyes, Atana could see her teal light reflect off of his terrified expression. She could hear the pounding beat of his heart. “Someone else was there.”
Lavrion swallowed hard, his fingers gripping her. He took in a deep breath and released it slow. Someone else, like your father.
They sat in quiet contemplation, watching fluffy clouds manifest on the horizon until they blotted out the stars overhead.
She rubbed a thumb over a scar on her wrist, the same shape she wore on her ankles. “Thank you for searching for me.”
“Thank you for saving us, all of us. I’m glad you had Azure, so you didn’t end up like Tivar. Otherwise, I would have been alone again.” He smiled. The breeze picked up, tossing around several of his blond strands. “I never stop long enough in one place to get attached. I’ve always been looking for you.”
Atana sat up and stretched out her legs, smoothing the creases in the leather by her knees. Speaking of relationships, what’s the deal with you and Ramura?
Lavrion picked a blade of grass, running the tip over a callused palm. We say hi now and then.
Atana felt a tingle in the air and looked overhead at the forming clouds. Flashes of violet-white light bloomed inside. She decided it was best to go and stood. Holding a hand out, she helped Lavrion up. “You should talk to her.”
Are you talking to Sergeant Bennett? He asked as they trekked down the path toward the elevator.
Rounding a boulder, Atana looked back at him. Why do you mention Bennett and not Azure?
Lavrion’s gaze wandered to the line where the ocean met the indigo sky. Anyone who opens themselves can feel the connection between you two. Sure, you are Azure are mated but—
Her skin prickled, and she slammed to a halt in the grass. “Mated?”
He stopped, shying back a bit.
Atana followed his attention to her hands and found them glowing like blue matchsticks. She forced out a breath and shook them, darkening the light.
“You don’t remember? Hell, even I can catch it in the scent of you two, and I’m not Xahu’ré,” Lavrion admitted.
She spun away, her stomach churning. This whole time? Why didn’t he tell me? Atana sank to a stump, staring at the waving meadow grasses beneath her boots. Rio had warned her about the repercussions of such things. That’s why Azure’s constantly trying to touch me.
Squatting before her, Lavrion rested his hands on hers.
Atana hung her head, ignoring the elevator opening in the rocks beside them. Do you think Azure would understand we can’t be mates again because of what I am now?
Lavrion grimaced. Xahu’ré ituviia are for life. Rejection often leads to suicide.
Thinking of Azure and her duty now, she sighed. “Bennett doesn’t hate anything or anyone. Azure argues it’s because he hasn’t suffered. But I felt his pain in Ether. He protects without expectations. He’s respectful. Azure is—moody, irrational, and impulsive, especially when it comes to me. I trust Bennett not to let grudges or expectations overrule rational choices.”
Atana buried her face behind the shields of her hands. “I don’t remember the other version of me—Sahara. I only have a handful of memories. There’s a lot of blank space between. I think Azure sees something I fear will never be there again. Here. “Whatever.”
Lavrion slid his fingers up under her palms and freed them from her eyes. Look at me. She did. You are the same person. Pressing his mouth to the hair on the side of her head, Lavrion hugged her, and Atana let him. She felt safe in his arms, safe from judgment and expectation. The embrace calmed a part of her that was otherwise always on edge, except around Bennett.
Atana tilted back, an inflection of warning in her voice. “If you tell anyone I said that about them, I might have to kill you.”
Lavrion chuckled. He had their mother’s grace and ease about him. “I expect no less.”
A screeching racket from her wristband broke the peaceful moment.
Breach: Lab 6 Level 5 - Confirm Your Position
“What is it?” Lavrion glanced at her screen.
Lab Six was where she’d been working with Teek. Worry mixed with her confusion over Bennett leaving her torn. Atana tapped Confirm, syncing her location with Home Station’s network. “I’d better head down and find out what’s going on.”
He slid an arm around her back, ushering her to the elevator. Take care of yourself. I’m here if you need anything.
They stepped inside the doors, and she rested her head on his shoulder. You were only a baby when they took me. But I’ve missed you, brother.
He swept the wind-loosened tendrils from her face with a finger then pressed a kiss to her forehead. I never want to lose you again.
Chapter 11
AN EERIE PRICKLE crawled along Atana’s spine when she stepped out onto Level Five. The corridor to the labs was vacant. Not even the expected Home Station Security guards running a breach lockdown were present.
She’d called Teek. He was in the bays as he said, his position confirmed in the entry and exit logs.
Inching closer, Atana slowly drew a Standard Issue handgun from her thigh holsters and took cover behind a metal pillar. Glancing inside the lab, she noticed the doors to the isolation chamber swinging from bent hinges and spatters of dark fluid by the open doors to the lab.
Atana crept inside, tracking drops of fluid around a workstation to a darker pool. A movement behind the shield of the interactive table made her finger tense against the trigger.
Sliding out, she pointed her barrel at the noise. Her arms slacked. “Sergeant Porter?”
The young man lifted his head, exposing a pale-faced, female shepherd beneath him. Salty rivers streaked his face. Porter trembled as he curled up over her body, dragging his prosthetic leg away to expose several deflated flumes beneath.
“I tried to save her,” he choked out, red-faced and quivering. “No one came to help. Why didn’t anyone come?”
Atana tore her eyes from them to inspect the case. Every unit of Linéten metal she’d been studying was gone, and the Linoan bow wasn’t on its pegs. Violet fluid had stained a web of fissures in one of the doors. Must’ve bashed her head into it.
Lifting her wristband, Atana called Security. She didn’t wait for the shepherd to answer. “Why is there no one in Lab Six on Level Five? There’s been a break-in, a theft, and a murder.”
A male voice stuttered. “I-it’s not in our system, ma’am. If it were, I’d have sent a team out there.”
Not in the system? “Better send a scrub team. There’s a lot of blood.”
“Y-yes, ma’am. Shall I contact Command?”
“No. I’ll do it.” It didn’t matter if it was her reputation as Command’s elite assassin
or as Blue Bomb, shepherds fumbled around her. Closing the channel, Atana forced a video link to the main screen in Command’s conference room.
“Sergeant Atana?” Hyras walked over to the screen. Only a handful of the twenty-one members were present. Miskaht and Krett peeked around Hyras’s shoulders.
Atana got straight to the point. “You’ve got a murder and a break-in, Lab Six, Level Five. Security didn’t get the notification. Yet Teek and I got the automated request for location. Which means someone cut the signal to H.S.S. sometime in between. Figure out what you want to do. I’ll be here.” She ended the call, locked her band, and knelt by the two shepherds on the floor. In her mind, Command was losing its grip on the shepherds. It was time they started policing themselves.
“Talk to me, Porter.”
He braced a blood-smeared hand to the girl’s blank face. “Lacuto was my Specialty Sergeant. I was her Field Guard until I lost my leg. She called me a half-hour ago, said she was bleeding out, and she didn’t trust anyone else. I got here and saw this.” He drew the collar of her shirt to the side, exposing a knife cut penetrating deep into the top of her shoulder. “All she said was she was sorry, over and over.”
Porter’s breaths grew shallow. Resting his head back against the cabinets of the workbench, he looked up at the ceiling. “By the time I got here, it was too late. My fucking leg kept locking up.”
“Just breathe. You’re hyperventilating.” Atana inspected Lacuto’s darkened wristband. “Did she leave a message?”
Pressing the back of a hand to his mouth, he nodded. He woke Lacuto’s wristband and tapped Playback. His finger left a bloody smudge in the corner of her screen.
The girl’s face appeared, blood draining from her mouth. She coughed. “I tried to stop them. Three to one isn’t good odds, no matter what you are. Two males, one female. No wristbands.” She drew in a raspy breath. “Took all the metal. H-heard them breaking in from down the h-hall.” Her face scrunched, and she angrily spat blood. “I’m s-sorry, Porter. Isan— Isan lia donnanoa.” She rolled to her side with a groan as a boot and a metal prosthetic appeared beside her, squeaking on the wet floor. There was a brief glimpse of Porter’s worried face, and the screen flickered off.
“What did she say?” Porter asked. “In that other language.”
“Unsure. But I suggest you pull yourself together before Command arrives.” She gestured to his tear-stained cheeks.
While Porter stumbled up and over to a sink, Atana inspected the girl. Wrong place and time. Resting her elbows on her knees, she crouched above Lacuto’s head. The girl’s arm was outstretched at an odd angle, considering the stab wound was on the same side. There weren’t any marks like she’d been stepped on or kicked. Her eyes were dark but open, looking down the length of her arm.
Atana leaned over, scanning the toe-kicks under the counters lining the wall and the floor beneath the isolation chambers. A glint of black chrome. The ArcBow rested against the back of the wall under the broken chamber, too far to reach by hand.
Grabbing a dust mop from the corner closet, Atana unclipped the head and used the pole to drag the bow back out. Command members and a team of security walked in as she stood with the weapon in hand, blood smeared on the grip.
Security pointed their SIs at her.
Atana’s shoulders fell. “Really?”
Terson, the sole Euli member of Command and one of the Security Shepherd instructors, waved them away to secure the area. His pitch-black eyes scoured the scene as Krett and Hyras circled the lab table to inspect Lacuto.
She lifted the bow. “Looks like they fought over this. I think she hid it under the isolation chamber. This position’s too awkward for her.” Unclipping the wristband from Lacuto’s arm, Atana offered it to Krett.
“We’ll take that and lock it up.” One of the security shepherds offered, extending her hands.
Atana eyed the slender woman. She seemed far too eager for such a weapon. Leaning back, Atana snapped it to life, sending the fiery bands humming. “It uses emotion to operate, Sergeant Dieshi.” She twirled it once, and the others backed away. “If anyone off serum touches this in a withdrawal phase, all hell will break loose. Someone’s tried to take it once already.” She looked to Hyras and shut the bow off. “It must be under watch by someone emotionally controlled.”
The three members of Command conferred for a private moment. Atana glanced at Porter, wishing she could comfort the man. But all she could do was promise not to let Lacuto’s sacrifice be in vain.
He didn’t smile, but the pain on his face faded when he met her gaze.
“Permission granted,” Krett said. “No one is to know this exists. We will record every person in this room.”
Folding the bow along its hinges, it shrank to the size of an SI, and Atana clipped it to her belt. “What’s the plan?”
Terson pointed at the cameras. “If they cut off the message before it got to security, they probably cut that feed too. Tech Integration will get a new task on tightening security tomorrow.”
“Lacuto was Primvera, right? I didn’t go to class with her because Command reassigned us elsewhere after my injury.” Porter’s voice was hollow, cold, and not directed at anyone in particular. “What does isan lia donnanoa mean?”
Krett rested a hand on Porter’s shoulder. “Friends for eternity.”
“Friends?” Porter’s eyes widened. “I’ve never broken the code, I swear!”
“Easy,” Krett said. “You’re not in trouble.”
“I’ll tell Bennett and Azure,” Atana said, scanning between Terson and Hyras. “They could keep their senses open for what was taken.”
“I’ll do it,” Porter offered, thrusting his shoulders back. “I’m guessing it needs to be private. I owe her that much, to help find whoever killed her.”
“Serum stats?” Terson asked.
Porter lifted his wristband and slid open his serum tab. The blinking bars of the graph were within acceptable ranges. “I am steady, sir.”
Terson gave him a nod. “Go.”
Kneeling to the lifeless Primvera, Atana rested a hand to the girl’s forehead. With her thumb and forefinger, she closed Lacuto’s deep blue eyes for the last time. May the stars guide you home.
A gentle light blossomed behind Lacuto’s eyelids, fading as fast as it had appeared. No one else was nearby to witness it, to confirm what she’d seen. It made Atana wonder what she’d just done.
Security teams locked down the room as the scrub team, in crinkled, white bodysuits, came in to collect Lacuto’s body.
Hyras signaled Atana to walk with him. “I need something from you.”
She paused as they turned the corner toward the stairs.
“Azure—needs a break. He came to me to check on Agutra and the doku he couldn’t get a hold of. Even after I confirmed everyone was fine, and Agutra was stable, he would not calm down.”
Her brows knitted. “What are you asking?”
“He’s running a bad string of mental code and needs a restart. I want you to take a few hours off and rest tonight.”
Atana planted her hands on her hips, not wanting to lose a night of work. “He’ll be fine.”
Hyras lifted a hand impatiently between them. “No, he won’t. He’s crashing. I know you feel it too. And I know you know how dangerous that is with an upcoming battle. Azure needs a safe place to fuel him. He lost his home when the Suanoa purged the fields of his home sector. Take a few hours off and remind him of what he fights for. That’s an order.”
“Sir, if anyone can find the people who killed Lacuto, it’s me. I can talk to the metal. No one else.”
Hyras’s cobalt eyes illuminated. “What part about an order do you not understand, sergeant? Your mission is Kyra preparation. You have been regularly back-talking Command, disobeying orders, and doing whatever your gut tells you to. This has to stop. You are not the only effective shepherd.
“We will figure this out, and you will rest with Azure, or neither of
you will recover in time to fight.”
Atana watched Hyras bound up the steps, an urge to argue gnawing away at her tongue. Linéten metal was loose in Home Station. Three people were suspects for murder, none of which were wearing wristbands. But how she felt didn’t matter. It never had.
And she relented because Hyras was right. Azure was crashing, and they needed him for a battle much bigger than this.
Chapter 12
BENNETT SPENT HOURS in TACSIM rehashing his plans with Atana’s new data. He tapped his pen against the paper maps he’d spread over his desk but stopped at the memory of Atana kissing him in the hallway. A nudge to keep him going. She’d noticed he was a living thing, not a machine. He wished he could tell her how much it meant.
Needing to clear his head, Bennett stashed his drawings and locked his drawer, and headed for the door. He passed other shepherds linked to digital stations, assisting movements of the few ground forces Command had spared to keep order on Earth. The majority had been tasked with preparations for the Kyra mission.
Bennett left and found himself walking toward Gym Three out of habit. On his way, he checked in with his team. Tanner was chugging coffee in the Tech Integration while working on code modifications for Azure, and Tanner hated coffee. Cutter was back to work in the bays with Teek, assessing life-slots for payload capacity. Panton was sleeping with his assistive breather in, and Josie was up running her fifth space-flight scrimmage with her assigned team.
Porter intercepted him in the hall and shared the news of Lacuto and the missing metal from the lab. The young man was calmer on the outside than the cacophony in his mind, so Bennett pulled him out of view of other shepherds and drew him into a hug.
Porter hesitated before welcoming the embrace.
“It’s okay to hurt, kiddo. Just don’t blame yourself for things you couldn’t control,” Bennett offered. “Use this pain as firepower when you feel like you’re out of ammo. Kay?”
“Munitions puns—” Porter let out a soft laugh, wiping water from his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
