Zodiac

by Romina Russell

  He slows down on my bottom lip, and then continues down my chin, throat, and along the centerline of my chest, stopping at my navel. His touch sets my nerves on fire.

  “I shouldn’t have said I was too old,” he whispers, and I open my eyes to his midnight-blue orbs. “This whole time, I was too closed-minded to give you the trust I already knew you deserved. It was easier to make excuses, to look for reasons and flaws, than to just admit the simple truth.”

  I start to sit up, and so does he. My pulse is racing, and I don’t know if I want to hear what’s coming next or interrupt him now. But as soon as we’re face to face, he says, “I’m in love with you.”

  Then he does what I never expected him to do.

  He kisses me.

  My hands shoot up to stop him, but when our mouths come together, I realize how much and how long I’ve wanted this. The instant our lips touch, it’s an explosion. Hysan’s kisses have a progressive build, but Mathias kisses me with a passionate desperation that comes from somewhere so deep, it takes my breath away.

  Instead of pushing him off, my hands press into his hard chest, feeling the strength I’ve waited so long to touch.

  When we pull away, his breathing is shallow. As my heart calms down, my mind turns to chaos. I’m too overcome by everything to think—about Hysan, about the future, about what I should say.

  “I’m sorry for taking the liberty,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the solarium.”

  “Me too,” I admit before I can stop myself. My heart is pounding, like it’s determined to make every beat count. Mathias and Hysan are night and day—and yet I’ve fallen for them both.

  The only thing I can do now is be honest. I reach for Mathias’s hand, and his fingers close around mine. “Mathias—”

  “I know you’ve been upset with me, Rho, but please don’t ever doubt my faith in you. You’re a natural leader. I should have told you that a long time ago.” His voice is lush and soothing, and the blue of his eyes is soft. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes the past few weeks, but believe me, all I’ve ever wanted to do is help you.” Then he adds with a wistful smile, “Well, that’s not all I’ve wanted.”

  A million different emotions course through me, and I don’t know how I feel about Mathias or Hysan. All I know is that I need to come clean with both of them. “I need to tell you something—”

  We fly off the deck and bash against the telescope housing, as an explosion hits the side of the ship. We’ve lost our gravity.

  Screams pierce the air. Everything and everyone goes flying as the ship shakes violently, under attack.

  Mathias reaches out for me, but we’re too far. He digs his nails in the walls, pulling himself closer to me. I hold onto the telescope housing, stretching my free arm out as far as I can.

  The moment our hands connect, the lights go out, and we’re in total darkness.

  38

  FOR TEN SECONDS, WE’RE BLIND, until Firebird’s battery backups kick in. The emergency lighting blinks on with a dull green buzz.

  “We need to get to the bridge,” says Mathias, pulling me along with him. When another explosion hammers our ship, the deck pitches up at us, and I knock against it with outstretched hands to cushion the blow. Mathias clutches me, and we pull ourselves toward the bridge, hand over hand.

  The bridge is in turmoil. Screens, charts, empty cups, and bright splashes of tea rocket through the air like missiles. Firebird is not equipped for zero gravity. There are no handrails or footrails. Crewmen cling to whatever they can find.

  “Admiral, what’s happening?” I yell through the chaos.

  Ignus grapples his seat in both arms while his legs fly up and swing out of control. “Our antimatter engine imploded. Don’t ask me how.”

  Lord Neith appears on the largest view screen. “Psynergy attack,” he reports. He’s calling from Equinox, breaking radio silence, but what does that matter now? Ochus found us.

  “What happened to the shields?” I start to ask, but then I realize the question’s moot. I have to get to my Wasp and draw the monster’s attention away from the fleet. I may be too late, but I have to try.

  Mathias must be thinking the same thing, because he grabs me around the waist and heads toward the tube leading to the hangar deck. Bouncing from one surface to another, he has to shove me along, kicking against the walls. The ship reels in a nauseating spiral, and soon I’m going to throw up the fruit Hysan gave me. I wish I could find him to know he’s okay. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

  All the skiffs and gunships are lashed down in the hangar. Hand tools zoom around us, clanging against metal walls, smashing windshields, and even hitting people. We dodge and swim through the mayhem, kicking off whatever surfaces we can find to navigate.

  A massive cable comes snaking toward us, and Mathias lunges to shield me. After he’s knocked it out of the way, we reach my Wasp. It’s near the stern airlock, and it looks intact. Mathias gives me a push. “Get in. Get your suit on.”

  I ricochet into the Wasp and bounce against the console. I don’t need a compression suit in here because the cabin will be pressurized when I launch. Mathias is being overcautious. Still, I do as I’m told and struggle into the tight-fitting suit while he goes to open the airlock.

  At last, Firebird stops tumbling, and we stabilize. But the power’s still out, and we’re weightless. Mathias has to wrench the stern airlock open by hand, and I notice his uniform’s torn at the front. That cable must’ve struck his chest.

  I pull myself out to see if he’s okay—and then I’m standing on my head, hanging onto the lashing, as every movable object goes flying up to the ceiling.

  Our ship’s in free fall.

  I hang on with all my strength, and so does Mathias. We must be caught in the gravitational pull of planet Ichthys. Tools, broken glass, and bodies lie plastered against the hangar ceiling, and I clench my jaw to hold back a scream—Cendia’s up there, twisted among the wreckage. Peero too. They look unconscious, or worse.

  The ship pitches over into a nosedive, and the tools make a loud racket, rolling upward to the stern. The airlock’s uphill from me now, and even with Mathias’s brawn, we’re not strong enough to push the Wasp up that far. I can’t even undo the lashing, or she’ll tumble away and crash.

  “Mother Rho! Use the windlass. I can show you.”

  It’s the chief mechanic, Foth. He’s bleeding from cuts on his face and arms, pulling himself along the steep deck with something heavy slung on his belt. Straps and pulleys—it’s a block and tackle. Foth climbs into the airlock and hooks one of the pulleys to a flange, then he reels a strap down toward me, and Mathias and I attach it to my Wasp.

  Firebird starts rumbling, jerking back and forth. Every loose screw vibrates, and my teeth knock together. “We must be entering the Piscene atmosphere,” shouts Mathias. “Get in and stay in.” He boosts me into the Wasp, and for once I have no problem following his orders.

  Through the Wasp’s open hatch, I see Foth drop out of the airlock and sail toward a large steel spool with a crank at either side. It must be the windlass. It’s as tall as he is, and he has to squeeze inside to hook the other end of the pulley strap to its spindle.

  When he tries to turn the crank, the ship’s motion tosses him away. He tries again, and Mathias rushes to help. The ship trembles more erratically, but other mechanics crawl out of the shadows. They brace themselves around the crank handles and strain to turn them. A second later, the ship’s thruster engines fire, and we swoop upward. Ignus must have regained control of the helm.

  Every loose item drops to the deck. I can’t look at Cendia and Peero’s bodies, fearing the worst.

  As soon as our trajectory levels out, Mathias counts off, and the crew pulls together, hoisting the Wasp a meter along the deck. In rhythmic jerks, the Wasp shudders into the airlock with me inside.

&nb
sp; Now I know what to do. This is my task, my risk. I won’t let Mathias die with me.

  I’ve scouted this airlock and planned every step in my mind, though I didn’t picture doing this without power. But I have to act fast.

  While the others are locking down the windlass, I propel myself out of the Wasp and throw all my weight against the airlock’s inner door, trying to get it closed. When Mathias sees what I’m doing, he bellows for me to stop.

  “I’m coming with you, Rho!” He races toward me, howling my name. “Don’t do this! I’m begging you!”

  “Fly your skiff!” I yell back. “This is my job!”

  I try again to close the airlock, as Mathias bounds toward me, his eyes bright with urgency. He leaps over a fallen truss. It looks like he’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t hear through the roar.

  Finally, the airlock door slides shut, and I slam the manual seal. Mathias’s fists thud against the door, making me feel wretched. I try to wall out the sounds as I climb back into the Wasp.

  Trembling, I jerk off my clumsy compression gloves to start the ignition and release the brake. I tap the controls in the proper sequence, glad I studied again today. Then Mathias’s voice reaches me through the radio.

  “Don’t leave without me. Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mathias. I’ve made mistakes, too—huge ones—but taking you with me would be the worst by far.” I suck in a shaky breath. “It was my choice to fight Ophiuchus, not yours. Try to remember what you said to me when I went in to meet Moira . . . and find that trust in me again. I’ll come back to you.”

  Then I fire my laser gun and blast away the outer door, expelling air and hurling my Wasp end over end toward the stars.

  39

  ONCE MY WASP STABILIZES, it’s easy to see the damage to Firebird’s hull.

  She’s rising above the ashy upper layers of the clouds surrounding Ichthys, and three full sections of her underside have been blown away. She looks like a gutted whale. I’m amazed she’s even still flying.

  Ignus is steering her toward the space station that’s just emerging over the planet’s horizon. Its spinning hexagon gleams snow-white. Firebird just has to stay aloft long enough to dock.

  The Ariean destroyer Xitium flies close by, escorting her toward the station. Firebird’s crew must need help, so I’m glad they’ll have friends close at hand.

  Equinox zigzags around the two larger vessels like a mosquito, and its evasive maneuvers tell me it’s still dodging Psynergy. The attack isn’t over.

  I watch for the skiffs. They should be launching soon. Our fleet stretches tens of thousands of kilometers through the sky, so I use the Wasp’s optic scanner to find the other ships.

  At first, I can’t make sense of the screen display. It looks as if hundreds of new vessels have joined us. This can’t be right.

  Hot, sweaty hair falls in my eyes. I slap it away. Hands trembling, I fiddle with the controls. When I get a clear image, I realize the blips aren’t vessels—they’re chunks of wreckage.

  Understanding shoots through me like a Taser: Our whole fleet is gone. Ochus has already destroyed them with Dark Matter.

  I radio the Firebird’s bridge. No answer. I try optic, infrared, microwave. My Ring is long gone, so I can’t fuse with the Psy. Finally, I radio Equinox. Lord Neith comes on the radio. “Wasp W4A, identify your operator.”

  With a blast of light, my Wasp scans my retina, then answers automatically. “Rhoma Grace, Guardian of the Fourth House.”

  That’s great. Bet Ochus can see me now. I grip my armrests and try not to snap. “Lord Neith, what happened to the Psy shields?”

  A familiar voice joins our conversation. “Ambassador Sirna here. Xitium’s cristobalite bead has ruptured from within. We suspect sabotage.” She sounds breathless, as if she’s been running upstairs.

  But . . . sabotage? All our shields? How could this happen?

  “My shield is functional,” Neith reports. “Xitium, stay in my shadow.”

  I notice something spewing out of Firebird’s port flank. Wreckage? Bodies?

  I aim the scanner, and I’m relieved to see a dozen skiffs zooming my way. Hysan and Mathias made it out. They’ll be fine. It’s time for me to clear out. I set a course straight for the Sufianic Clouds.

  “Rho, slow down. I’ll escort you.” It’s Hysan. He’s calling from one of the skiffs.

  “Stay and protect the fleet, Hysan. Please stick to the plan. Trust me.” I shut off the radio before Mathias calls, too.

  My Wasp’s hydrogen powertrain was engineered for speed, and no skiff can catch up with me. All I have to do is put a decent amount of space between the fleet and myself. Ten minutes at hyperspeed should do it.

  Sailing outbound toward the galaxy’s edge, I feel a burst of adrenaline. This is my fate. I’m not a fighter, and I don’t invent things, but in the Ephemeris, I grow powerful. Even though it means meeting Ochus, part of me is thrilled to be returning to the astral realm, where I feel closest to the soul of the Zodiac.

  My Wasp zooms lightning fast, and my fingers tingle with energy. After ten minutes, I lower my shield and flip on the Wasp’s Ephemeris. Let’s see if Ochus finds me as tempting a target as I hope he does.

  This onboard Ephemeris is designed as a crystal ball mounted on my console, but something’s wrong with it. It won’t light up.

  I toggle the digital switch off and on. Nothing. I command the Wasp to turn it on. My console talks back. “Please provide the encryption key.”

  Admiral Ignus didn’t have time to unlock it. How am I supposed to distract Ochus now?

  I aim my optic scanner back toward the fleet. Firebird’s closing in on the space station, but she’s skimming through the planet’s upper clouds, losing altitude fast. Xitium’s beside her, and Equinox buzzes around them both, diving in and out of the atmosphere to shield them. Farther out, the skiffs fly in echelon formation, probably waiting to retrieve escape pods, should the need arise.

  I get on the radio and try calling Ignus again, and when that doesn’t work, I hail the skiffs. “My Ephemeris is locked. Does anyone know the key?”

  Hysan answers. “Sorry, Rho. Ignus didn’t trust me with his secrets.”

  “What about Mathias? He’s piloting one of the skiffs, right?”

  “No, he’s not with us. I haven’t heard from him or anyone on Firebird. Their transceivers are down.”

  Mathias is still on board?

  “Hysan, can you signal them with your running lights?”

  “I’ll try.”

  My scan shows one of the skiffs leaving formation and swooping down toward the gutted flagship. He’s going to position himself in front of the bridge, where Ignus can’t miss his blinking lights. I ease forward in my seat, watching the scanner screen, hoping to see more skiffs leaving the flagship.

  Sirna comes on the radio again. “Mother Rho, where’s your Ring? Mathias is trying to speak to you through the Psy.”

  I twist my Ringless finger. “I don’t have it. I never took it with me from the strongbox. What’s he saying?”

  Hysan’s still twenty kilometers out when Firebird’s gutted belly starts shooting sparks. It’s hitting the planet’s denser methane clouds, building up friction. I cover my mouth as I realize what’s happening: The cruiser’s breaking in two.

  Sirna comes back on the radio. “He says . . . You were born for this. I should have told you every day.”

  I want to look away from the blazing ship, but I can’t. The bow section noses upward, bounces and rolls, then bursts into flames. The fire dies almost at once, but debris flies against Xitium, knocking her off course.

  Equinox shoots into the clear, and so does Hysan’s skiff, just as the stern half of the cruiser skitters into a spin, flaring streaks of burning fuel. Fire engulfs it. Mathias was near the stern when I left him.

 
Shaking, I grab the radio mike. “Hysan, do you see any more skiffs? Or escape pods?”

  “I don’t, Rho.” His voice grows quiet. “I’m sorry.”

  The stern breaks into a thousand pieces, and their fiery trails streak downward through the clouds. In seconds, the fires snuff out. The Piscene atmosphere holds too little oxygen to keep a flame alive.

  “Look again, Hysan!” I scream at the radio mike.

  Mathias can’t be dead.

  At first, no one responds. All I can hear is a rhythmic rush of noise . . . then I realize I’m hyperventilating.

  “Someone do something!” I shout.

  Lord Neith replies. “Scans show no survivors.”

  Sirna adds in a somber whisper, “Their voices have fallen silent in the Psy.”

  40

  MATHIAS.

  I grip the view screen with such force, the plexine housing creaks.

  For an instant, I consider turning my Wasp around and diving into those methane clouds to find him. I almost do it.

  My hand’s on the tiller, ready to make the turn. “Mathias,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I was scared, too. It was easier to focus on the things that stood between us—his doubt, our disagreements, the age difference—than explore how I truly felt about him.

  I loved him my entire adolescence.

  I love him still.

  Sirna hails me from the Ariean destroyer. “Guardian, stay on course. I’m trying to find the encryption key you need.”

  On course?

  What course?

  My hand falls off the tiller, and I let my body sag loose and weightless in the seat belt. Colors fade to gray. Losing consciousness would be a relief.

  “Alert,” announces Lord Neith. “Psynergy attack incoming. Xitium, you’re the target.”

  No.

  Not Sirna, too.

  I sight the Ariean ship through my scanner and see a burst of wreckage rising from the weapons array mounted on her hull. The destroyer’s engines fire.