by Rebecca Rode
“Halt!” a voice shouted from down the hall.
“Get her onto the ship, Mar,” Stefan said quickly. “You’ll make it if you hurry. The coordinates are already entered, but keep radio silence for the first ten minutes or so. Your ship is supposed to be unmanned. And make sure you get her to a medic, all right?”
“You there!” the guard called, closer now.
This was wrong. Panic welled up Ember’s throat. “Stefan?”
His warm gaze settled on her. “I was meant to help you, Ember. That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“No,” she whimpered, sitting up. It was all coming back. “I’m not going without you.”
“Yes, you are.” He slammed his fist on the Close button, and the door began to move.
“Doors closing,” an automated warning announced. The escape pod.
The guard stopped and took aim, but Ember punched his inner light as she’d done with the others, sending him tumbling to the ground. She struggled to her feet, legs shaking, and searched for a button to stop the doors from closing. “There’s got to be another way. We can figure this out.”
The doors continued to close. Only Stefan’s upper half was visible now. “I tried to disarm the theft feature, but it didn’t work. It has to be done manually, from the corridor panel. You won’t get far otherwise.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t leave without you.”
He sent her a pleading look. “Trust me, Ember. This is exactly what my grandmother said would happen. It’s an honor to make this sacrifice for you.”
“Stefan—” She tried pulling the doors back, but they were too strong. Her body trembled too violently to try and leap through. She could barely support her own weight.
“Don’t. This is what the stars decreed, Ember. I just wish we could have been together in the end.”
He reached in, grabbed her face, and kissed her fiercely. He pulled away at the very last second, jerking his head and arms back just in time.
She reached for him. “Please, don’t do this!”
But the giant door closed with a huge metallic clang.
Then silence.
Ember threw herself at the door and began to pound on it, but Mar grabbed her arm. “You can’t open it now. Safety feature. C’mon, we can still make it if we hurry. Once they stun Stefan, we’re on our own.” She pulled Ember into the pod and clasped Ember’s harness as if she were a parent buckling a small child in for safety.
Stefan. She still felt the warmth of his kiss on her lips. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The stars had brought them together.
“Initiating,” Mar said, and the door closed just as the pressure changed outside of the craft. “Launching in three, two . . .”
Shouts on the other side of the door made Ember tear at her harness, but it was too late to turn back now. She sensed three lights confronting Stefan and ripped them out, leaving him alone. She could do that much for him at least.
Ember had left a huge part of herself on the other side of that door. And now the Union was going to blow up the ship, and Stefan with it.
“Maybe if we find Amai quickly, we can try to change her mind,” Mar said, obviously trying to cheer her up. “Or maybe even postpone it until the other ships are down. I mean, you already killed the commander, so what’s the rush?”
They spent several long minutes silently staring out the window as the Empire carrier grew smaller behind them.
Ember craned her neck to keep the vessel within sight as long as possible. If she locked her gaze on it and refused to let go, nothing could happen to it.
Stefan—such an idiotic, frustratingly courageous thing for him to do. He’d been so firm about his grandmother’s theory and his role in her supposed quest. Stefan was so much like Dai in that way. The stars are never wrong.
But Ember wasn’t the girl Stefan thought she was. That alone was proof that the stars didn’t direct her future. She did. And she refused to sit back and watch Stefan die.
Ember closed her eyes, let her body relax, and reached out internally. The lights began to appear in clusters. She drew closer until she could distinguish one side from the other. Then she focused her attentions on Stefan’s ship, searching for Amai’s friends. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest with each second that passed. This was taking too long. It would take precious minutes to find them and stop their terrible mission.
She released a long, focused breath. Then she sent a blow toward the entire ship at once.
It was like fanning a flame. Hundreds of lights lit up brightly for a moment, then went low. A few flickered out, but most wavered only slightly. She hoped Stefan was one of the latter.
Ember worked on several more ships, rendering the occupants unconscious. Two Union vessels noticed the Empire ships’ odd courses and prepared to fire, but Ember had prepared for that possibility. She sent them a light blow, hoping the other Union ships would get the message.
They seemed to understand. Amazingly, the front line broke as the fighters pulled back. And even more remarkable was a sight Ember hadn’t dreamed she’d ever see.
The Empire ships were retreating.
Waves of people were dropping at once, hundreds per Empire ship. Ember could sense their terror from here. The fallen would return to consciousness eventually, but the battle would be over by then. She had created a temporary halt to the war.
“Amai,” Mar said into the radio, eyeing Ember with a smile. “There’s been a change of plan.”
27
I still can’t believe they left,” Mar said, sipping a nutrition packet. “The Empire never retreats.”
They sat in a small gathering room in a temporary shelter not far from Ember’s village—or what was left of it. Amai had refused to answer Ember’s questions about her people, telling her to wait until a transport arrived and she could see for herself. She could barely sit still.
“It was ingenious, what you did,” Amai said, smiling at Ember. “Although I’m not sure how long they’ll stay away. We don’t have much time.”
Ember shifted in her chair, the packet in her hand untouched. She’d arrived happy to have Stefan alive, only to receive the worst possible news.
Dai was gone. He had died two days before. If Ember had left when Amai wanted her to, she could have said good-bye.
It left a hollow feeling inside of her, where her heart had once been.
“Your gravity is so intense here,” Mar moaned. “And depressing. How did humans live on this planet for so long?”
“It wasn’t always like this,” Amai said. “I’ve seen photos.”
Ember stood. “I want to see my village now.”
“I’ve told you. We’re just waiting for the transport.”
“You’re waiting for the transport. I’m walking.” Ember jerked the door open and plunged into the heavy sunlight, which instantly warmed her in her thick black jacket. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.
The two women stared after her. “But it’s six kilometers, and—” Amai said.
Slamming the door behind her, Ember missed whatever the woman was going to say next. She faced forward, noting the launchpad in the distance where tourist shuttles had once landed. No ships stood there now. Instead, a plume of white smoke rose lazily into the sky.
Just past that was the Roma market and her stall, she knew. And even farther beyond lay her village. Home. She was so close.
She began to run.
Ember knew the truth when she saw the market. Tables overturned, chairs destroyed. Blanket dividers torn and strewn about. Birds hopped around, exploring the empty market like it was a new playground. The most disturbing thing was the plastic shoes scattered on the ground. The shoemaker had left his wares behind. Not a good sign.
She put on a burst of speed and raced up the hill, but she already knew what she would find. Curls of lazy white smoke still rose from the top of it.
Her village was a smoking wreckage, its previous buildings now piles of rubble
. Not a structure had been spared. They’d even downed the well house and kicked it to pieces. The worst of it began as she picked her way farther into the village among piles of rubble that were charred and black. She could barely tell where she was now.
Her boot brushed a misshapen log, and she stepped back to examine it, then recoiled in horror. A body. She couldn’t tell by the shape whether it was a man or a woman. One arm protruded as though the poor soul had been reaching for something. Or someone maybe.
The Empire had swept through here with their gas torches, but it was hard to tell how long ago. The emperor had obviously seen Ember’s village as a loose end, a possible breeding ground for flares. A threat that had to be eliminated now that the Empire was near. Not people but liabilities.
A game piece that had to be swept off the board.
Her feet moved of their own accord to where her home had once stood. Just like everything else, it was a pile of charred material. She could still see it there in spirit—its narrow doorway to the right with the broken window. The courtyard to the left. Her hens clucking their welcome as she stepped inside. The table her father had so meticulously carved with flowers on its legs. Her family’s image frozen forever in a stained-glass frame. It existed only in her mind now.
She scrambled to the pile, fell to her knees, and plunged her hands into the wreckage. She tore a broken piece of wood off the top and threw it, then another. Her arms grew weary as she worked frantically through the pile, searching for what she knew she would never find.
“Your father’s body was buried with the others,” Amai said as she stepped out of the transport behind her. Mar sat with a stunned expression, her eyes down. There was no driver. “He died in our shelter. I promised you we would protect him as best we could.”
Ember stood, her knees sore from the sharpness of the debris beneath her. “And yet he’s dead.”
“He was sick, far beyond our help. I daresay he was beyond anyone’s help. Your being here wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“You’re wrong! I was getting him medicine. He would have pulled through. I know it.” She kicked a piece of metal and winced when it didn’t budge.
“He showed us his pill bottle. It wasn’t the right kind, Ember. The medics think he had cancer, and your medicine was for pneumonia.”
“It was helping. I know it was.”
She sighed. “There’s something else.” Amai stepped down from the vehicle and approached Ember, handing her a square device. “This is really what we were waiting for, not the transport. I wanted you to see it first, but . . .” She shrugged. “Anyway, this seemed really important to him. Just tap the screen.”
Ember reverently fingered the tablet. Her father’s face was frozen in a smile, much like the stained-glass image of him. But here his eyes looked sunken and oversized, his skin sallow. He barely looked like himself except for the smile. Could he have changed that much in three weeks?
She tapped the screen, not daring to breathe.
“My dear Ember,” her father said in Common, grinning. “If you’re watching this, I’m dead. It’s easy enough for me to accept because I knew this was coming, but I know it will be difficult for you. There’s so much I want to say and not nearly enough time to say it. I need several more years, I think.” His grin faded, and he swallowed.
Ember covered her mouth with one hand, her throat tightening.
“I know what happened to you. It’s what I feared all along and couldn’t stop. I should have taken you away, hidden you far from the Empire’s reach. But you seemed content enough, so I let myself believe embracing Roma life might hide you better than any cave could. Forgive me. The Empire will do anything to capture and tame a wild flicker, especially someone with your unique skills. I should have done a better job protecting you, preparing you for what would come.”
Ember felt her stomach drop. Dai wasn’t talking about the Empire now. He was talking about her gift.
After Ember’s mother died, her father’s devastation was even harder to stomach than the crushing sorrow she’d experienced. He looked at her differently after that, keeping a wary sort of distance. But there had been something else in his eyes, something inward and very, very deep. Now she knew what it was. Guilt.
He knew his daughter was a flare. He hadn’t seen it in her until it was too late, and because he’d failed to prepare her, his wife was gone forever. He blamed himself, not Ember.
“I escaped the Empire and ran to the safest place I knew,” Dai continued. “Earth lies on the boundaries, still within the Empire’s reach and jurisdiction but far beneath their notice. I thought I would be safe here, and I was for many years. I just didn’t consider what it would mean for my daughter. I’m sorry.”
He gestured to the camera. “These people, the Union fighters, are kind. They’ve taken good care of me. They allowed me to make this recording for you. I believe siding with them is a good decision.”
Ember looked at Amai, who was listening with a frown.
Then her father switched to Romani.
My Ember, when I say siding with the Union is a good decision, I only mean it is slightly better than serving the Empire. They mean well, but be wary of their leader. They call her the Daughter. She is the daughter of the emperor, cast out long ago for reasons unknown to me. If you choose to serve her, be very careful. I have yet to discover whether this Union is the antithesis of the Empire or an extension of it.
Good-bye, my light. I look forward to watching you grow from the stars.
I can’t tell you in words how I feel for you. It was the greatest pleasure of my life to be your father.
He motioned to whoever held the camera, and then it went black.
Ember found herself clinging to the tablet in her hands, holding it so tightly she feared it would break. She forced herself to loosen her grip and tapped the screen again, watching it several more times until Amai cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry, Ember,” she said. “But it’s time to evacuate. Most of the other ships have left. I got special permission for you to say your good-byes first, but the Empire will be back en masse, and soon.”
Ember gave her village one last look, then climbed into the transport, gripping her father’s message firmly in both hands.
“What was that language your father spoke?” Amai asked as the transport moved. “And what did he say?”
“Romani,” she said softly. Was Ember the last person who spoke their language? The realization made her physically ache. “He said it was a pleasure to raise me as his daughter.”
Amai looked a bit suspicious, but she finally nodded.
They headed back to the camp, Ember’s gaze locked on her feet the entire way. She folded her arms, feeling the strongest pieces of herself crumbling like the buildings around her, and she tried desperately to hold herself together before she fell completely apart.
A ship now stood a hundred meters from the temporary shelter she’d evacuated over an hour before. Workers were taking down the tents and loading the ship with boxes. The shuttle reminded Ember of the one that had whisked her far away from home and clinched her people’s terrible deaths. Did they blame her, wherever they were now? Was her father right? Could they watch her from the stars?
She boarded and found a seat. Then she gasped. The woman sitting in the seat across from her was Bianca.
She launched herself across the aisle and embraced her friend, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Bianca! You’re alive!”
Her friend stiffened, then pushed Ember away, her expression murderous. “Don’t touch me.”
“But—” Ember looked around. Bianca’s son and husband were nowhere to be found, and her stomach looked a bit flatter. “No.”
“They killed Gavril and my Luca. Shot them down in seconds. The shock of it was too much. The baby came shortly after—” She sucked in a sob. “It was a girl.”
“Oh, Bianca.”
“Don’t pretend like you had nothing to do with this, Emb
er. I wish your filthy gadjo father never came to our village at all.” Her friend removed her harness and stomped to the next passenger area.
Ember watched her go, feeling her heart sink to her toes.
Mar stood in the doorway. She cleared her throat. “Um, Amai asked me to give you this. The Daughter wants to speak with you, but not in here.” She motioned to the door.
She followed Mar into an empty storage compartment on the ship. For the second time that day, Ember held a tablet in her hands. She tapped the screen as Mar left the room.
A woman not much older than Ember and dressed in white appeared, frowning at her. “Ember, daughter of Mario Nicholas Lucinello. I had hoped to speak with you before now, but alas, events have made that impossible.” Her mouth tightened in what was probably intended to be a smile. “Is it true you are a flare?”
Ember recalled her father’s warning about his woman. She did seem rather direct, like the daughter of an emperor would be. “I am.”
Her lips tugged upward for a fraction of a second. “You are determined to join the Union against the Empire?”
“Yes.” There was no doubt in her voice this time.
“We’ve recruited soldiers from all over the realm, Ember, but your role will be far more important. You will not train with them or climb their ranks. You will serve under me and me only. That requires absolute trust. Will you submit to a reading when you arrive?”
The Daughter wanted another flicker to comb through her memories to ensure she wasn’t a double agent. She had nothing to hide except a tinge of doubt planted in her by Dai. Determination swelled within her as she made her decision. She would take the Empire down. If this woman became a part of it, she would take her down too. “I will if you’ll do the same.”
The woman’s expression froze, then her calm demeanor returned. “I regret that isn’t possible. You understand why the Daughter can’t be read by a flare, particularly one who is yet untested. Perhaps someday.”
Ember nodded. “I agree to your terms, then, on a different condition. There is a man on the ship I left. A prisoner.”
