The Colony (The Survivors Book Seventeen)

by Nathan Hystad

  “Hello, Dean.” I shook his hand, expecting to be introduced to the woman he was with. When Dean didn’t do the honors, I butted in. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. Dean Parker. This is my wife, Mary, and my son, Hugo.”

  “Sorry. This is Arvilla. She’s working on the colony blueprints for Ebos, and they decided to station her at the Institute to represent the team,” Dean said. He stepped away from her, and she didn’t seem to notice.

  Mary cleared her throat, and nudged me with an elbow. “Nice to meet you, Arvilla. You must be good at your job if you’re their representative. How long have you been doing it?”

  I almost laughed, but refrained. Mary was obviously trying to gauge how old Dean’s new fling was.

  “Five years. Finished school early, and went into the advanced tech program afterwards,” the woman said. I did the math and guessed she was at least twenty-two. Maybe slightly older than Dean, but not much. Jules wouldn’t like this. I tried my best to remain neutral, but as a doting father, it wasn’t easy.

  “She’s being modest. Arvi was at the top of her class. Half the time, Elex is leaning on her to solve issues with their colony layouts.” Dean grinned, but stopped when he caught me watching him. “Anyway, I guess you three are leaving.”

  A figure approached us, and a second later, Malir came into view. “Wait up.”

  “Malir? What are you doing?” I asked the Gretiol heir. He wore the training uniform and had a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder.

  “I want to come with you,” he said.

  “Absolutely not.” I crossed my arms, signaling end of discussion.

  “I heard what happened with your house, and Jules is going to be in danger. She already denied my position on Outpost. I don’t want to sit around waiting to hear what happens,” Malir said. He watched Dean, clearly sending a dig in his direction.

  “I’m not sitting around.” Dean pushed a finger into Malir’s chest.

  “Sure. I know. You strut in that white uniform. I understand why you wouldn’t care about Jules’ safety. With your new arm candy.” Malir smiled at Arvilla, but she didn’t return it.

  “Watch your mouth.” Dean shifted closer, and I stepped between the warring young men.

  “Gentlemen, I think you should cool your jets.” Jules would hate them fighting. “Malir, you can come.”

  “He can?” Mary asked.

  “He’s going to make trouble if we leave him behind, and I hear Malir’s quite the fighter these days. Magnus thinks he has the potential to be in charge of his own posting. If the Emperor allowed him to stay on.” I laid it on thick, but it had the desired effect. Dean glowered and backed off.

  “You won’t regret this, Mr. Parker.” Malir bumped fists with Hugo, and they walked to the portal.

  Dean came to our side. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I whispered. Mary chatted for a moment with Arvilla while Dean and I spoke.

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “Malir? He’s a great kid. Strong. Loyal. I think he’ll be okay with us.”

  Dean looked abashed.

  “Could this have anything to do with the attention he gives Jules?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I… Just bring her home, okay?”

  I set a hand on his shoulder. “You know I will.”

  My desire to leave was overwhelming, and I couldn’t tell if it was Ovalax’s influence or my own. “Dean, if you need us, we have one of the old communicators. And with the new Inlorian parts, we should be able to repair our own network on the Cyclone.”

  “What happened to it anyway?” Dean asked.

  I couldn’t very well tell him that an ancient monster in my head had forced me to damage it in order to ensure I went to Ebos. “It broke.”

  Dean and his new girlfriend stayed where they were, outside the portal’s radius, and I sent us to Uphus.

  ____________

  Sarlun hated himself. Dean Parker must be dead. Every bit of him hurt with revulsion at the idea, but he’d been unable to cease the orders. He sat on his bunk and tore his shirt off in anger. Turning to face from the mirror, he scrutinized the tattoo on his shoulder blade. It burned red, the skin aching and inflamed. The more he tried to fight it, the worse it became. Sarlun knew better by now.

  He returned to his seat, trying to think about anything but his recent actions. Dean had reached out for months, since he’d learned there was a Sect of Memories, and thought Sarlun was avoiding him because of some deep secret to do with Ovalax. It was nothing of the sort. Sarlun simply couldn’t talk to him, not without the tattoo punishing him to the brink of death.

  He was cursed. Sarlun recalled the Sect instead of his friends, and remembered the first time his own father had told him about the bargain. Bring a member of their race to Ovalax once a century. He was outraged, until he heard what truly occurred.

  One of the oldest, most brilliant Shimmali people always volunteered. Usually, they were sick, no longer able to care for themselves. They were happy to do this bit of good for their people, to have their knowledge retained by a being as powerful as Ovalax. His heart had broken the day he’d been responsible for sending someone almost thirty years ago. The woman had been a friend, a mentor at school, and later like a mother to him. She’d departed to Newei without remorse.

  He wanted to tell all of this to Dean, but the compulsion wouldn’t allow him to.

  Sins of the father. Nobody had told Sarlun about the deal Solir had made with this witch, and he’d only found out on the day his dad perished, when the tattoo emblazoned into his flesh. A message from his late father explained the history.

  Now Sarlun was required to see the agreement through, and the spell would be broken. He couldn’t let it be passed on to Suma. She was too innocent to bestow such a curse upon.

  Sarlun heard the witch strolling the halls. She did that ceaselessly. She stalked the ship, burning off seventy years of anger and solitude. Ranul beat on the door. “Open up.”

  Sarlun sighed and threw his shirt on. The red skin subsided slightly as he stopped worrying about Dean and his family.

  He let Ranul inside, and she shoved past him. Her head was freshly shaved. She ran a hand over it, as if pleased to finally be allowed a blade. “Is it done?”

  “I won’t know. We’re closed off from my contacts. That was your stipulation,” Sarlun reminded her.

  “I assumed you’d have broken the rules.” Ranul gaped at him like a predator stalking its prey. She moved like one too, her stance wide, her shoulders rolling more than necessary. He wasn’t surprised to hear that she’d killed so many people in her lifetime. She looked the part.

  Her muscles bunched as she grabbed his tablet. “What have you been up to?”

  “Nothing,” he promised. “I’m with you, Ranul.”

  She glanced at the paint above his door. The spell kept him contained to his quarters, and she refused to let him out until they landed on Ebos. Even then, he wasn’t sure if she’d eliminate the marking.

  “The warship will be moving for Ebos. As long as Peters and his stupid crew can figure out how to operate the wormhole generator. Which I’m beginning to doubt,” she said.

  “And what will you do when you have it?” Sarlun kept trying to understand her true plan, but she only gave it to him in miniscule portions.

  “If I have the treasure I’ve been seeking, I’ll use it. Then I’ll fly home with this Alliance behemoth.” She leaned against the wall, pulling a piece of dried meat from her vest pocket. She chewed it with her mouth open, regarding him with intent.

  “Home? Where is home?” Sarlun knew this woman was a Brack, but he’d never heard of them. Even with the library access and all of his contacts, there was little more than rumors about the deadly race from afar.

  “It’s a cesspool at best. There’s a reason we left it.”

  “Then why return?”

  “I’ve figured it out. How to get to Gasade,” she said.

  Gasade. Another n
ame he didn’t recognize. “How?” He preferred to ask her innocent inquiries, rather than explain he knew nothing of what she spoke of. It often worked.

  “You can’t betray me. I suppose I can share some of the truth.” Ranul offered him a piece of her food, and he took it, testing it with a nibble. The meat was greasy and smothered in salt. “The Beykn were a great people, but they grew complacent in their efforts to contain their spells. When one of them went rogue, he killed almost all life on their planet of Gasade. We know this because we traveled there long ago.”

  Sarlun paid close attention, trying to memorize what she was telling him. Instead of commenting and breaking her focus, he consumed another bite of meat.

  “Unfortunately, there was a final spell placed around the planet. The moment my ancestors departed, they forgot where Gasade was. A simple memory spell, but on a grand scale.” Ranul tapped her head gently. “But I’ve found out how to access it.”

  “You’ve been in prison. How can you have orchestrated anything from that cell?” Sarlun asked.

  Ranul actually laughed, her teeth covered in food. “Sarlun, you’re a simple man. I always believed someone in charge of a group like the Gatekeepers would have more common sense. Do you think there aren’t others with runes marring their skin?”

  That was how she’d accomplished so much. She had others entrapped into her service. How many? Had he met them in passing? Sarlun’s curiosity outweighed his anger for a moment.

  “Did you stay there for seventy years on purpose?” He couldn’t believe anyone would subject themselves to that kind of torment.

  But she nodded, confirming his suspicion. “I needed time to research.”

  “And what did you find?” Sarlun had been safe from her witchcraft this long because she’d been waiting. Ranul was linked to him, sending details from her cell. Demanding information in return. He’d been physically unable to deny her requests. If she insisted he take his life, he would do it without any choice in the matter. It was too much power to hold over another. He wondered what would happen if she died. It was something he’d contemplated in the last few months.

  “I found the key.” She waved at him. “Come.”

  Ranul ambled through the door, and Sarlun followed. He’d been stuck in this room for nearly a week. He glanced at the rune above the doorframe, and walked into an invisible barrier.

  “Sorry. Forgot that was there.” She brought a pen-shaped device and dashed two lines of light across the symbol, rendering it useless. He’d tried to scratch it on his first day, but it hadn’t worked. He assumed the caster was the only one that could affect the spell.

  With his arm out, he went into the corridor. The ship was same vessel they’d escaped from Traro Bello on. The plan had been a combination of theirs, with her deciding on the location for the pickup. Sarlun pondered if they’d uncovered how their most dangerous offender had simply walked out under the protection of an invisibility spell. He doubted they ever would know the truth.

  Ranul had made a huge mess. She’d left pieces of clothing on the floor near her quarters, and empty plates were stacked high in the kitchen. He cringed at the chaos.

  She escorted him to the cockpit, and pointed at the seat beside hers. “It took years, but one of my contacts at Bazarn discovered what I’d been seeking.” She brought up an image of a gemstone. It was green, almost the length of his hand.

  “What is that?” Sarlun thought he knew. It was the same color as the portal stones Jules Parker had fixed. It reminded him of her eyes.

  “It’s the key to Gasade, and all the Beykn secrets we’ve forgotten. When I have access to the entirety of the rune catalog, my people will be unstoppable.” Ranul’s eyes were dark, her face doing something resembling a smile. “The Planner will never make it here. I will destroy his foothold before he knows to come.”

  He’d never heard of the Planner before. He was about to ask when he saw a weapon on the floor. It was a sharp-bladed extension for a pulse rifle. He wanted to grab it, to shove it into her chest for the terrible things she’d done, and had made him do. Dean and Mary might well be dead because of her… because he’d hired those mercenaries. Nausea overtook him, and he flushed with sweat and pain.

  “You will never break this spell, Sarlun. Better people have tried, and you don’t see them around, do you?” She smirked at him. “Return to your quarters. We’ll be at Ebos in six days.”

  Sarlun trudged the corridor, hardly noticing the clutter this time. He shut his door and went to the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Suma.”

  Eighteen

  Jules tried to sleep, but it evaded her at every turn. The room was dark, and she played gentle white noise from her desktop, hoping it would calm her active mind. Nothing worked. She hated that Papa hadn’t told her about his issues with Ovalax. She’d never felt so betrayed by her father. He was her rock. The one person she could implicitly trust, and now even that foundation had been broken.

  No. Not broken. Cracked. She was confident they could repair the bond, but first he’d have to explain his reasoning. Was Ovalax controlling him? He’d seemed like her father when she’d spoken to him.

  They were scheduled to jump to Ebos tomorrow, after everyone had a good night’s sleep. Magnus didn’t believe in diving into potential danger when the entire bridge crew was exhausted.

  “Sleep,” she whispered to herself, thrashing in the bed. She kicked the blankets off, suddenly feeling stifled by them. It was too hot in here. “Computer, air.” A soft breeze pushed from vents.

  Jules sat up, noticing a glow emanating from her upper right desk drawer. Her fingers twinged as her powers flushed inside. Her footsteps were silent, crossing the room. The gemstone she’d taken from the sellers at Udoon was pulsing within its case.

  Jules sensed a tug from the piece of portal stone. The case opened easily, and she stared at the length of crystal. “What do you seek?” she asked it.

  Her fingers crept toward it, wavering just above the specimen. It was warm. That was interesting.

  Someone knocked on her door, and the crystal’s luminance faded. “Computer, lights.” They flashed on, nearly blinding her. “Computer, lights to forty percent.” Jules closed the case. “Open door.”

  Natalia was there, clutching a book to her chest. From the looks of her Auntie, she hadn’t slept a wink either. “You awake?”

  Jules smiled. “You knew I would be. What’s up?” She glanced at the book.

  “The runes. I thought we could test something. See if we can utilize any of the spells,” Nat said.

  “Test them?” Jules had thought the same thing, but wasn’t comfortable attempting witchcraft by herself.

  “Why not fight fire with fire?” Nat sat at the desk, opening the tome. She had sheets of paper and two pens. “Maybe this is as simple as drawing the symbols.”

  Jules checked the time. They were supposed to be waking up in five hours. “Want some coffee?”

  “Da.” Nat was already halfway through the volume.

  Jules brewed two cups in her machine and brought them to the table, sliding one to Natalia.

  “How about this?” She pointed to a simple drawing. Seven lines, with a circle around them. “It’s designed to give you light. According to Regnig’s notes, you make the marking on the object you want to act as your flashlight, and voila.”

  Jules sipped her coffee, and grabbed a piece of paper. “Let’s try the sheet.” She copied the rune as best she could, and nothing happened.

  “My turn.” Natalia tried, failing as well. “Okay. Maybe our scale is wrong. Try tracing it.”

  Jules placed the paper over the book, copying the symbol exactly. When she was done, it still didn’t illuminate. “Nothing. Don’t witches have to verbalize? Double, double, toil and trouble? That kind of thing?”

  “Depends on the folklore,” Nat said. “I used to be terrified of witches when I was a young girl.”

  Jules knew next to nothing about Nat’s life before the Event
. She was aware that Nat didn’t speak for years after being kidnapped. Magnus and his mercenary group had rescued her and taken her in.

  “Why did they scare you?” Jules had always loved reading books about them when she was younger. But as a girl with powers of her own, she associated with and empathized with the idea of witches.

  “When people think of Russia, they picture the Kremlin, or Red Square, but there are thousands of minor villages far from the big cites with statues and monuments. I grew up in one. It was a mining village. Half of the places were abandoned by the time I was five, gone with new emerging technologies, and to keep the kids from exploring them, our parents told us of the witch that lived underground. She would eat our toes and use our hair for spells.”

  Jules imagined Nat as a small child, hearing these horrible things. “That’s terrible.”

  “It worked, at least for me. My schoolmate Mikhail died when he ended up stuck in one of the mines. Rumor was his fingers and toes were mutilated, but later, I learned it was probably rats,” Nat said.

  Jules grimaced and stared at the book. “How long did you live there?”

  Nat’s gaze was distant, as if she could transport to that time. “Until I was fourteen. I snuck away on a supply truck and headed to the nearest city. I lived on the streets for several years, and ended up with the wrong crowd. We did what we needed to survive, and then…”

  She stopped, and Jules felt the tension in the air. Nat glanced at Jules with a tear in her eye. “A few years later, Magnus found me. I’ll never forget his face when the crate opened. I was scared for a moment, until I saw the sadness in his expression. The desperation. Then anger. He was safe. I knew that without a doubt.”

  “He was a great man,” Jules whispered. “I miss him.”

  Natalia nodded. “So do I.”

  It wasn’t the same having the new Magnus around, torn from his own dimension, except that he had those exact memories of Earth. Their timelines hadn’t slipped until after the Event. They still shared that connection. It made sense why he and Nat were so close. They were meant to be together, despite the real versions of their spouses not being alive.