Jules rushed to Magnus, shoving the four enemies away. She focused on their weapons, melting them with her mind. Instead of stopping there, she checked the lobby, finding five more of them hiding in the corners. Once she eliminated their guns, she scanned for Rivo and saw her on the floor near the reception desk. Her eyes were closed, and she bled from a head wound.
Jules nearly tore the adversaries apart, but refrained. One moment she was sprinting through the room; the next she returned to normal speed, standing in front of Magnus.
The marauders all cried out, metal melting in their hands. “What are you?” a Padlog woman asked, buzzing in pain.
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
Barod appeared from down the hall with twenty of her finest, and they bypassed the mess, detaining the robbers.
“Jules, are you okay?” Nat asked her.
“Me? I’m fine. What about you?” She stared at Magnus. It was obvious his pride was shaken.
“We’re good. What’s happening on Outpost?” he demanded.
Jules had almost forgotten about that in all the excitement. At least her friends were alive. Nat was at Rivo’s side, helping her sit up. Jules breathed a sigh of relief.
Barod held up an object and glared at Jules. “This is a detonator. And it’s been triggered.”
Jules swallowed, taking the device. “Can you track the bombs?”
Barod nodded. “This isn’t the first time someone tried to blow up Udoon. We have systems in place. The team is locating the bombs now. But according to this, the only means to disarm them is with the other end. A second detonator, and none of these people had it on them.”
“Peters,” Jules whispered.
Instead of waiting, she grabbed her own tablet and called Outpost’s bridge.
“What have you done?” Peters’ composed expression was absent.
“Your people had guns to my friend’s heads. I couldn’t allow that.”
Rumi was no longer in the camera feed, and Peters sat in his stead. “Then there’s nothing to stop me from blowing the station up, is there?”
Jules had to react. She’d behaved impulsively, but they had time to fix this. “The gems. I have them. I’ll carry them to you.”
“And my people?”
“They stay here,” Jules told him. “You can keep their cut when you sell the goods.”
“Fine. Bring the prize, and I’ll usher your crew off on the shuttles,” Peters promised. Jules sensed the lie. “I will send one. Enter it, and no funny business.”
Jules ended the call and turned to the detained marauders. “See how quickly your illustrious leader bailed on you? Peters didn’t care about anything but the gemstones.”
The bald guard spoke up. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill you all. Blow up Udoon, even if he gets the gems. He was never letting witnesses live.”
“Why?” Jules asked, sensing more at play than a simple grab and snatch.
Baldy looked at the ground.
“I asked why!” Jules shoved him, and he relented.
“We were recruited for this. He has to answer to someone.”
Jules pursed her lips and turned to Jaessa. “Stay with them.” She indicated Magnus and Auntie Natalia. “Give me the bomb locations when you can. I’ll deal with it.”
Magnus agreed, and she was off.
____________
Jules stared at the crate while the transport pilot took her to Outpost from the station’s docking bay. The pirate was another human, a wiry man that seemed extremely uneasy with his task. She didn’t speak to him for a while, trying to assess him.
“Is Peters a good man?” she asked as they neared her giant warship.
He didn’t look at her. “Peters? I suppose.”
“How many of you occupy Outpost?” Jules felt the compulsion laced into her voice, and the man paused, turning slowly to face her.
“I…”
She leaned in closer. “How many?”
“Twenty-three,” he gasped, acting ashamed for answering.
“Was that so hard?” she muttered. She should have avoided all this, and just entered the ship’s hull and killed Peters where he stood. But that wasn’t her style. No, she had to rise above those instincts buried deep within her core. Jules Parker had higher morals than dealing quick deaths. She was no judge, jury, and executioner. But she would stop him from taking her ship, and destroying Udoon Station in the process.
“How did you do that?” The pilot scratched his head, as if his brain itched.
“I didn’t do anything,” she told him.
The transport entered the shuttle bay, and she saw how quiet it was. None of their crew was present. She was guided to the exit, and she stopped, reminding the pilot of the crate of goods. Instead of hauling it herself, despite how easy it would be, she watched him struggle as he loaded the heavy item onto a cart. He dragged it over the bay floor, and was sweating before they exited the hangar.
His gaze darted both ways, and she sighed, walking ahead of him. She obviously knew her own ship better than this man who’d been there scarcely an hour. Jules strode proudly, her shield protecting her. She had nothing to worry about.
Outpost was eerily silent. Usually, she’d encounter a few staff members on any excursion from the bridge, but it was completely vacant. They were under lockdown.
They took an elevator to the bridge’s deck, and she let the pilot out before her. Jules wanted to make sure her friends were okay before she acted, so she slowly approached the bridge entrance.
“Peters, we’re here!” the pilot called.
Jules prepared, sensing the constant flow of her abilities.
The door stayed closed. She attuned her hearing, concentrating beyond the bridge entrance. Sounds of struggle persisted. A fight was transpiring.
Jules lashed out, striking the pilot across the jaw. He dropped to the floor. That was easier than she’d expected. She slid a tendril of energy through the door’s seal, and spread it wide. Sergeant Raron decked Peters, and Rumi had a pulse pistol aimed at one of the marauders. Jules couldn’t contain her smile. Her crew was standing up for themselves, taking control of an intense situation.
Jules secured Peters’ wrists behind his back, and did the same to Rumi’s target. The other two soldiers had their hands in the air, and Jules used her powers to confiscate their weapons.
“Nice work, team,” Jules said. “It seems you didn’t need me after all.”
“Think again.” Raron passed a triangle-shaped device to her, indicating that Peters had activated the bombs. Her own tablet chimed, and she checked it, finding the report from Udoon Station, showing her where each of the four explosives was hidden. Judging by the info on Peters’ detonator, she had sixty seconds. “Fly it out. As far as you can!” she ordered them, and began to vibrate her shield.
She saw the reflection of her green eyes on the viewscreen as she rose from the bridge floor. Jules shot forward, bypassing the hull into space.
Udoon Station appeared the same as always, but it was about to explode if she didn’t pull off a miracle.
That moment at the Duupa hotel flashed into her mind. Garo Alnod’s funeral. The Kold setting a trap for them. Jules had enveloped the bomb in her sphere, protecting her allies. But there were four of these, and one of her. With less than a minute.
Roughly three thousand people occupied Udoon Station. She sensed them all as she raced toward it. Jules struggled to find a solution. She couldn’t be in four places at once, and her shield was… wait, that was it. Jules slowed, closed her eyes, and blasted four shields out. The invisible barriers permeated the station’s exterior, moving for their intended targets.
Jules guided them from her position in space. She breathed within her own bubble sphere, doing her best to remain calm.
Ten. Nine.
Jules found the first bomb on the seventh deck, securing her shield around it.
Eight.
The second was on the eleventh, concealed under a broken-down cleaner dro
ne.
Seven. Six.
The third was in the center of the station, strapped to the life support system. Jules wrapped it with her protective sphere.
Five. Four. Three.
The last bomb was on deck two, and she hit it right in time.
Two.
Jules blinked her eyes open, smiling to herself. They’d done it.
Then she sensed there was a fifth bomb, overlooked by the station sensors because it was inside the ferry the marauders had flown up from Udoon’s surface. Peters was thinking about it at this moment.
Jules panicked, reaching out for the ferry ship. She tore it from the hangar on an invisible tether, dragging it as quickly as she could. Jules tried to stay out of the way, but it was coming directly at her. She should be fine, her shield was… too weak. She’d stretched her powers to the brink.
The vessel detonated, sending Jules reeling from Udoon Station.
Everything went green.
Then dark.
Eight
Sarlun guided the Shimmali cruiser in line with his destination. This was bad. He considered changing trajectories, and pain erupted in his shoulder. No. That was impossible. He had no choice but to disregard the plan.
He’d spent too much time alone on this ship, and longed for the company of a friend. Had it really been six months since he’d sat with Dean Parker? The man was so angry with him over the Sect of Memories, but that wasn’t the reason he was hiding from Dean. Not even close. He could have explained that part, but Sarlun wasn’t able to look him in the eyes.
Dean and Mary were going to die.
And Sarlun was the one effectively pulling the trigger. His hand shook as he read the notes from his superior. Sarlun had considered himself a free mind, not allowing others to control his actions, but the moment the mark had appeared, things changed.
For years, nothing had happened, and then she contacted him. And he understood he was cursed.
Suma was so lovely at her wedding. The curse was the only reason he didn’t object to her rushing things with Elex. Sarlun’s time might be limited, and he wanted his daughter to be happy. His main goal was to prevent the passage of his marking to his precious Suma. She deserved more.
He wasn’t able to speak of it, not without writhing in agony.
The only chance to beat the curse was to explicitly follow the plan. He assumed his death would greet him when that occurred, but he was okay with that. His objective was simple: stop Dean and Mary from being executed. He knew there was more to it. Something important on Ebos. And Ovalax. But her information wasn’t very forthcoming. He was a pawn.
Sarlun stared at the screen, silently viewing the stars in the distance. What a waste. All the work he’d done for the Gatekeepers and his people on Shimmal. For what? To let a megalomaniac destroy everything they’d built? He clenched his jaw and tried to reroute the ship.
Pain ravaged his body, and he cried out, breaking the quietness of the cockpit. Sarlun’s muscles bunched as he attempted to stop his compulsion, but it was no use. He fell from the chair, twitching on the floor.
Sarlun couldn’t stray from the plan. It was burned into him with a spell more powerful than willpower or love.
It was sorcery.
____________
“I don’t like taking this path,” I told Mary.
“It’s faster. The radiation blocks any communication, but there’s nothing nearby to worry about. The Keppe use this trading route all the time.”
“That isn’t the point. I hate not being connected to home. What if something important happens?” I checked the communicator again, finding the same result.
“Dean, don’t worry so much. Jules is fine. Hugo is here with us. The others can take care of themselves.” Mary was always so reassuring, but something had me on edge. I’d felt a ripple of pain; then it was gone. That was two days ago, and we still couldn’t check on anyone.
“Where’s Hugo?” I asked.
“He’s in the cargo hold counting the Inlorian bars,” she said.
“The classic busy work.” I laughed. “Did I ever tell you about the summer I worked at a hardware store?”
Mary nodded. “I don’t remember the details, though.”
I loved having a new story to tell Mary. After this many years together, it was a rare feat. “I worked there after school when I was sixteen. I did a few odd jobs, but the hardware store was my favorite. The owner, a guy named Mr. Harrison, quickly saw I was untrained on tools. I was a stock boy. Paid to sweep the floors, take out the trash, and restock the shelves. But I was constantly being asked questions by the customers. Most of them had known me since I was a kid. I knew where everything was in the store, but not necessarily what they did.”
Mary listened with the sweet patience only a woman in love could muster. “I bet your parents were proud of you.”
“Sure. At least I think so. They never came out and said it, but they were busy with their own things, and I didn’t demand a lot of attention at the time. Truthfully, I preferred it that way. Made me feel independent. Mr. Harrison’s business slowed down that summer when a big box store came to the neighboring town. He ended up being bought out, but for a few weeks, he had me counting parts for inventory. Every afternoon I was tallying up totals on endless reams of paper. If I’d known it was because he was selling his store and everything in it for sixty cents on the dollar, I probably would have quit and spent time with my friends.”
“Hugo will never have that experience, will he?” Mary asked.
“Not like we did. Didn’t you work at an ice cream shop?”
“Yep.” Mary’s gaze drifted to the viewscreen, and I caught the hint of a smile. “I was sixteen too, and the shop was one of those outdoor shacks that attracts constant lines on hot summer afternoons. I loved it. The look of joy on a kid’s face when he picked out his scoops.”
“I bet you had a few regular young men coming to visit you too, didn’t you?” I chuckled when she nodded.
“Maybe. It was great for my social life.” Mary sighed. “It was so much simpler back then.”
“Earth has recovered, Mary. The new cities are safer than ever. Commerce is thriving. It’s not as different as we think,” I said.
“Not for them, but for us it is. For our children. What I wouldn’t give for Hugo to work in a hardware store for a while, and for Jules to hand out ice cream cones.”
“I’d pay to see Jules doing that. ‘Ambassador Parker, you didn’t give me enough sprinkles’,” I said in a comical voice.
“She’d make one heck of a scooper.”
“I’ll go check on Hugo,” I told her.
Mary squeezed my hand. “I’m glad he’s here.”
I thought about my own parents’ lack of attention, and smiled. “Tell him that.”
“I will.”
I found Hugo sitting at a desk, using a tablet to monitor the Inlorian bars. “Hey, slugger.”
“Dad, why am I doing this? Each case has a hundred bars. Can’t I count the cases instead?” Hugo was smarter than Mary gave him credit for, apparently.
“Because there could be a discrepancy. Count them all,” I said.
“Fine. But this is so boring. Why do I—”
“If you stayed at the Academy, you could be with your friends, but you chose to sneak onto the ship. You have no one to blame but yourself.” I sat across the desk, and he closed the crate.
“Are we going to do anything fun?”
“Fun? Hugo, you realize that’s not why we have these jobs. Being a Gatekeeper isn’t supposed to be entertaining. It’s an important role. The universe is so grand, and the people of the Alliance need to be protected and supported. We’re the explorers. Imagine the Europeans sending out across vast oceans to discover new lands. The Gatekeepers are essentially that,” I said. “Except we respect the existing cultures and let them decide on a partnership.”
“Sure, Dad. I guess there’s a lot more to this than what I expected. The instructors make i
t seem like a non-stop adventure.”
I laughed, imagining Slate when he was at the Academy, sharing only the intense tales rather than focusing on the minutiae of a mission. “That’s because they desire a captive audience. No one wants to learn about soil sample collecting, or categorizing larvae.”
“Gross, do you do that?” Hugo asked.
“Sometimes. Early on.”
“I guess that’s cool. I don’t mind bugs.”
“You might when they’re eight feet tall, and have hair longer than yours.”
Hugo dropped an Inlorian bar, and it rattled to the floor. “Seriously?”
“Would I joke about it?”
“Yes.” Hugo grabbed the bar and returned it to the case. “Thanks, Dad.”
“For what?”
“Taking it easy on me. Mom would have destroyed me for coming on board if you weren’t here.”
I was about to tousle his hair, but he didn’t appreciate that anymore. Not since he became a teenager. “No problem, son. Want some help?”
“Counting?”
“Sure. Why not.” I grabbed a case, pleased to be spending time with Hugo.
____________
“I think she’s coming to.”
The voice was familiar but distant.
“Maybe it’s another spasm.” It was Natalia.
Someone lingered over her, and she tried to part her dry lips. “Papa?”
“No, honey. It’s Magnus.”
Jules managed to open her eyes a crack, and closed them again. “Bright.”
“I told you to turn the lights off,” Nat muttered. “There you go, little one.” Her auntie’s voice was comforting. She remembered Natalia watching her when she was seven, her parents gone on some mission, and Jules caught the flu bug. Nat waited on her hand and foot, not willing to leave her bedside until she’d recovered. She’d even brought some vile Russian concoction Nat swore would kill any infection.
“What happened?” The room was dimmer and Jules looked around, seeing she was in Outpost’s medical bay.
“You saved our lives.” Magnus let go and slid a chair over.
“I don’t remember.” She tried to think of her last waking memory, and it came to her. The bright blast as the ferry ship exploded, sending her reeling.
The Colony (The Survivors Book Seventeen) Page 8
