by Keary Taylor
I’m not sure what sector we’re looking at right now, but it doesn’t really matter.
“We can’t do anything if I can’t leave Cyrillius,” Valen says. He holds my hand in his, but even with those words, I feel his grip loosen. “I can come and go, leave to my planet for weeks or lunars at a time, but unless I can truly walk away, this is never going to work, Nova.”
I take a breath, already feeling overwhelmed. It’s our first and biggest problem.
“Nothing can really change or move forward like it needs to unless Cyrillius is dead and we can change Dominion,” I say. I swallow, not allowing my mind to imagine it, because I don’t need to sink into the terrors right now. “We literally can’t do either of those things.”
“How long have they been doing this to me?” Valen asks quietly. And I imagine him then, as a young boy, living a nightmare, being hunted, for an entire solar. “How long has he been holding me prisoner?”
I stare at the stars. “It was so quick, so easy, I didn’t even realize they’d done it,” I say. “I just tried to do what I came to do, and I just…couldn’t.”
I look up at Valen and my heart fractures. “I’m sorry I judged you before,” I say. “For not being able to leave him. I didn’t understand. But I get it now.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes my hand.
My heart rushes with emotions. Regret. Pain. Frustration. Anger.
“If a Kinduri can do this, a Nero has to be able to undo it,” Valen says in a whisper.
He turns, his Neron blue eyes meeting mine. Gently, he raises a hand, brushing his fingertips over my cheek.
And despite everything, all the bad around us, all the impossible situations we have to overcome, I feel peace.
I don’t know how yet, but somehow, we’re going to do this. Together.
I raise myself up on my toes, and softly, I meet Valen’s lips.
His hand cradles the back of my head, deepening the kiss.
My fingers knot in his tunic, pulling him close to me.
I let out a sigh, filling his mouth and his soul fills me instead.
Just as both of Valen’s hands wrap around my waist, eliminating every bit of space between us, the door suddenly opens.
“Sir, Cyrillius is asking for-”
But he stops short, and Valen and I jerk apart.
“What…” the man stutters to find words as his brain tries to process everything he’s just seen.
But one second he’s standing there, gaping and stuttering through his words, the next, I see a flash of blue light. A streak of Neron flashes through the air almost faster than I can see. And the next, he drops to the ground, dead.
I startle, stumbling away two steps.
At first, Valen doesn’t seem to understand my reaction. And then his eyes flick, between me, to the dead soldier, and then back to me.
“Nova, I-”
“Just…go,” I say as my insides quiver and shake. “I…we can talk about it later. Just go deal with whatever Cyrillius wants.”
He stands there frozen, unsure how to react, what to do. I see conflicting emotions in his eyes. But finally, he nods. He takes five steps for the door, stepping over the body of the soldier.
“I’ll deal with him later,” he says. I see apology in his eyes, and yet I know—if that soldier had reported what he’d seen, there would be no explanation. We would have been exposed. Valen took care of it in the only way he knew how. “Wait twenty minutes and then you can leave.”
With a lump in my throat, I nod, and after a few seconds of hesitation, Valen walks through the door, and closes it behind me, leaving me with the dead soldier.
In the morning, I find out why Cyrillius called for Valen.
I’m working in the lab, finishing up the prototypes of the breastplates—I made three—when Commander 12-3 walks into my lab.
“You’re going on a little field trip today,” she says. “Come on. Cyrillius wants you right now.”
My stomach does a flip. I don’t like unexpected things happening here on Isroth. But I have to play my role.
So I set the now-completed prototypes down and follow 12-3 through the door and out of the lab.
We head for the docking yard, and my brows furrow in confusion. I’m about to ask Commander 12-3 what’s going on as we step outside into the air that tastes stagnant and moist when Cyrillius and Valen walk out of the Compound, as well.
“I have a small assignment for you today,” Cyrillius says as we all board a Class 2 ship. There isn’t much room aboard, only enough for the three of us, plus the pilot, who doesn’t waste any time in taking off. “We regularly visit Gara Lune to greet the Kinduri, and to check that everything is running smoothly.”
My heart beats hard.
Gara Lune.
There will be hundreds, maybe thousands of Kinduri there.
All this trouble happened because just one of them got into my head.
I can’t imagine how I’m going to come out of this unscathed.
“What do you need me for?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m an engineer, not a slam public relations manager.”
Cyrillius offers a small little smile. “As you can imagine, there is a need for power anywhere that is inhabited, which does include Gara Lune. It is a small moon, inhabited by only twelve hundred residents. The Neron core required is small, but it does exist.”
Cyrillius crosses his legs, sitting casually in his seat, as if we aren’t ascending to a moon entirely populated by terrifying witches. “I would like you to take a look at it and see if you can come up with a design that is more efficient than what the other engineers have created.”
My eyes flick to Valen, but he’s looking out the window, seemingly hardly paying attention to our conversation.
“Forgive me,” I say, looking back at Cyrillius, “but this hardly seems like the kind of thing you hired me to do. I know how to maintain cores, but they’re hardly my specialty. Weapons are what you brought me on for. This trip feels unnecessary.”
“Do not limit yourself, Nova,” Cyrillius says as he narrows his eyes, but smiles. “Your potential is infinite. With your creativity, I imagine that we could make every core across the galaxy twenty-percent more efficient. As you can guess, twenty percent totals to a large amount of credits saved.”
Once more, my eyes glance to Valen, but he still only looks out the window.
Something about this doesn’t feel right.
Something isn’t adding up.
“If you say so,” I concede. I turn, looking out the window, trying to seem unconcerned.
I’m wondering: if we’re really going to do what Cyrillius says we’re doing, why is Valen here?
What does he have to do with more efficient cores and checking on the Kinduri?
Maybe Cyrillius is going to have them refresh their little mind tricks on him.
My stomach turns.
Something isn’t right.
I look back down at Isroth as we rise up and away from it. It really is a honeycomb of holes. I see them everywhere, where massive drills sank into the earth, taking out the Neron deposits a long, long time ago. There’s the Compound at the center. Almost all the other buildings around it blend in with the natural color of the ground. They’re black with a reddish hue rubbed into it. Almost the same color as Cyrillius’ eyes.
It’s such a disgusting color.
“What’s really going on?” I mentally ask Valen, keeping my back to Cyrillius and the pilot.
“I have no idea,” he answers me. “He brings me on some of these lunar visits, but something feels off today. He normally wouldn’t visit Gara Lune until the middle of next week.”
I have to remind myself not to physically react in any way. I nearly nodded, confirming that something was indeed off. But I catch myself at the last second.
“There can’t be any logical reason for him to be bringing me today,” I telepathically say. “Especially just me. If he really was doing what h
e said he’s doing, why wouldn’t he bring the other engineers? Why pit me against the others so blatantly? This has nothing to do with why he hired me.”
There’s a pause as Valen considers everything. “Cyrillius always has a plan, is always one step ahead of the game. He’s up to something. Stay on your toes.”
I can’t help it this time. I spare one short look toward Valen. But his poker face is so much better than mine. He just stares coldly out the window as Isroth grows smaller and smaller.
Ten minutes later, I get a full view of Gara Lune.
The small moon is cloaked by a constant cover of clouds and the sky flickers with electrical storms. The pilot activates a shield to protect us from being struck, and I actually hold my breath as I see us sink to the surface of those gray clouds, and we enter Gara Lune’s atmosphere.
We sink through a thick layer of clouds, and finally, we break through to the other side.
I expected to be high in the sky. But we’re not.
We’re only fifty feet above ground.
All around us, there are buildings that look as if they’ve been built of sand on a beach, built by lazy hands. They pile up high and pointy. They even look to be constructed out of black sand. They don’t look stable. But they rise up out of the ground everywhere, the peaks of their roofs touching the underbelly of those gray clouds.
That same charcoal-colored sand lines the ground, rocks jutting through every now and then. It’s almost like the bottom of a sea, but the water was burned out, leaving only ash.
It’s hideous.
With skill and ease, the pilot directs us to a landing dock, in the center of all those strange buildings.
My palms are slick with sweat as we touch down and the hatch decompresses. My heart is pounding in my ears as it begins to lower.
Already waiting for us, there are dozens of Kinduri.
“Welcome to Gara Lune,” Cyrillius says as he stands, extending a hand for me to walk in front of him.
I don’t want to walk off the ship. I don’t want to touch foot on this moon. I want to go back and return to my lab and pretend everything is fine.
But I can’t do that.
I can’t stick my head in the sand.
I’m changing the future, and I can’t do that by being a coward.
I walk forward, down the ramp, and into the circle of Kinduri.
“It is good to see you all,” Cyrillius says with a smile as he looks around at them, like they’re his pack of dogs and he really is glad to see his pets. “I bring you the tidings of Isroth. And I hope that you enjoy the latest shipment.”
I hear the sound of another ship decompressing, and surprised, I turn to see that we were not the only ship to arrive on Gara Lune. Another landed just to the side of us, larger, a Class 5. The hatch opens, and I see five soldiers waiting with loaded pallets.
There’s this…excited shrieking sound, which makes all the hairs on my body stand on end, and I realize they came from the Kinduri. Every one of them scrambles forward, going to the Class 5, crowding its ramp.
The soldiers hand out some kind of package to each of the Kinduri men and women. I squint, trying to figure out what they’re getting.
As the first ones who got to the hatch clear the area, I see.
They open the package, and instantly dump whatever it is down their throats.
I see blue chunks. The size of small rocks.
It’s Neron.
Like greedy, starving children, every single Kinduri pours the chunks into their mouths and grinds it with their teeth. Others swallow it whole. The sound of grinding and snapping is maddening.
I watch in horror.
When they’re finished, they lick any remaining dust from the packets before they let them flutter to the sand. Their eyes slide closed. They all make this…humming sound.
And then their bodies twitch. In strange, unnatural ways. Like their bones are being broken from within. Snapping. Reconstructing.
But they don’t cry out in pain. They don’t seem startled.
This is normal.
This is the cost of consuming Neron.
My mouth is agape in disgust and fascination. I can’t look away, but I want to, because I know that this scene will haunt my nightmares for solars to come.
Eventually, the Kinduri right themselves, standing normal, no signs of the broken bones. No signs of harm. Their eyes slide open once more and they make a sighing sound.
Their eyes weep black, making black trails all down their faces.
“Isroth thanks you for your devotion, and knows you appreciate it’s offering,” Cyrillius says to no one in particular as the soldiers continue handing out the Neron to the hundreds of Kinduri flocking to it.
Cyrillius turns, extending a hand toward me. “Let us take a look, shall we?”
I’m almost anxious to go with him, to go anywhere else but this courtyard where I’m witnessing the most disturbing sight of my life. Without hesitation, I follow after him, Valen just after me.
There are hundreds of Kinduri around. Dozens that could reach out and simply touch me.
Lock it away.
I push every truth down. I throw them in the vault. I pretend everything I’m hiding doesn’t exist.
I’m just an engineer from Korpillion who now works for Dominion.
I follow behind Cyrillius into one of those strange buildings. The air drops, cool and damp, as we step inside. Down halls we walk, passing dozens and dozens of Kinduri who turn and watch us with their weeping, black eyes.
We walk through a passageway, a dark tunnel that doesn’t seem long or deep enough to be a core location. But the space opens up, and there it is. The core that powers everything on Gara Lune.
It’s a standard size for a smaller moon. It’s a standard setup, the same as is used on dozens of other planets, I’m sure.
Cyrillius makes up some bullslag about taking a look and seeing if I can come up with a way that it can be improved upon.
I cast one look at Valen, who watches me with an empty expression. So I take a loop around the core, looking at every aspect of it.
It’s standard. It’s functional.
I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do. Cores are simple. They’re effective.
But supposedly, this is what he wants, so I start babbling about tiny, little ways it could be improved. They’re such minimal changes it will maybe make it five-percent more effective.
If Cyrillius is going to drag me up here to this moon for some made-up mission, I can give him bullslag back.
It’s pretty quiet on Gara Lune. The Kinduri aren’t exactly talkative. They’re calm and slow, except within a feeding frenzy. With no motivations in life except for their next fix, they’re never in a hurry. Never upset by anything.
So when I hear a yell, it pulls my attention toward the tunnel. I stop talking and listen.
When I don’t hear anymore, I go back to making slag up.
But then there’s another yell, and another. Both male voices.
I hear talking, hissing voices, definitely Kinduri.
I stop talking mid-sentence, my attention turning to it.
“Go on,” Cyrillius encourages.
My eyes glance back to him, but then back to the tunnel again.
“Thicker glass would allow you to store more Neron for-” I distractedly say before I stop dead when another yell suddenly cuts off.
The sudden silence chills me to the bone.
“Yes?” Cyrillius says. And I swear I hear a hint of a manic smile in his voice.
I hear a voice begin to talk. It’s quiet enough I can’t really make out the words. But the tone… The depth of it… The inflections…
I take a step toward the tunnel. The words start to become a little clearer.
“Made it through…” I hear words.
I take another step forward, into the tunnel.
“We all made it out,” the voice says. “We got separated for maybe thirty minutes, but we all made
it to the airspace.”
No.
No.
There’s another voice saying the word in my head, but I don’t hear that as loud as the chilled fear in my own brain.
My feet push me forward.
No.
“Someone deposited millions of credits into Nova’s account, and gave her the address for a ship,” the voice continues to confess. “That’s how we escaped Korpillion.”
No!
I run now, the sounds of my footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
“We were on the run for lunars,” they continue talking, condemning us to void. “But then we finally found the Bahiri. They taught her. Trained her.”
I break out into the main corridor of the building, and there I find at least thirty Kinduri gathered. And seated in the center of them all, each with Kinduri fingertips pressed deeply into their temples, are Zayne, my father, and Nymiah.
“And she left us in the middle of the night, to come back here, to kill Cyrillius,” Zayne says the final words that condemn me.
All my blood had already disappeared, but it lights on fire as an arm wraps around my chest and I feel the heat and electricity of a single edged Neron sword held just an inch from my throat.
The very same one I made with my own two hands.
“Would you please repeat that last part?” Cyrillius asks in a calm hiss, his lips brushing against the back of my ear.
Like an obedient robot, Zayne speaks. “Nova came to Isroth so she could kill Cyrillius.”
There’s a pause, and I can just imagine that creepy smile forming on Cyrillius face. I hardly dare breathe, the Neron blade is so close to my throat, and even I can’t survive that.
“As far as we knew, Nova was captured by Edan Calwin and brought to Isroth for the reward money,” he says. His breath warms my entire neck, making me want to squirm out of his grasp, and shrivel and die.
Zayne isn’t Zayne. He stares ahead, his expression blank. The words flow out of his lips without any filter. “Edan Calwin is Nova’s new best friend. They were in on everything together.”
Cyrillius lets out a ragged, harsh breath and I can feel his entire body trembling with anger. He shoves me forward so harsh and unexpected that I fall to the ground, barely catching myself before I fall flat on my face.
