“Oui, mademoiselle.” With a salute, Thorne grabbed a handgun off a storage crate and sank it into the holster.
Scarlet cocked her head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go? It’s going to require some precise manuvering to attach to the docking clamp, and from what Cinder told me about your flying skills…”
“What do you mean? What did Cinder say about my flying skills?”
Scarlet and Cinder shared a look. “Naturally, she told me that you’re a fantastic pilot,” said Scarlet, grabbing her red hoodie off a crate. Though it had been badly torn in Paris, she’d stitched it up as well as she could. “Absolutely top-notch.”
“I think she was practicing her sarcasm,” said Iko.
Thorne glared, but Cinder only shrugged.
“I’m just saying,” continued Scarlet, threading her arms through the sleeves, “it may not be an easy attachment. You have to dock slowly, and don’t leave the pod until you’re sure the satellite’s system is compatible and you have a secure connection.”
“I can handle it,” said Thorne. Winking, he reached out and gave Scarlet’s nose a tweak, ignoring how Wolf bristled behind her. “But you sure are sweet to be so concerned about me.”
* * *
The docking clamp engaged on Thorne’s second attempt, which he thought was pretty good for never having docked with a satellite before. He hoped Scarlet was watching, after she’d so brazenly doubted his abilities. He checked the connection before putting the podship into standby mode and unlatching his harness. Through the window he could see the curving side of the satellite and one of its circular gyrodines whirling lazily overhead, propelling the satellite through space. He could see only the edge of the docking hatch through the ship’s windows, but it appeared secure, and his instruments were telling him that the pressure and oxygen levels made it safe to exit his ship.
He tugged his collar away from his throat. He was not, by nature, a paranoid man, but dealing with Lunars gave him more hesitation that he was accustomed to, even young, semi-cute ones. Young, semi-cute ones who had probably been driven insane by years of solitude.
Thorne unlatched the podship door and it swung upward, revealing two steps up to a ramp edged with a rail, and beyond it a narrow corridor. His ears popped with the change in pressure. The entrance into the main satellite was still shut tight, but as he approached he heard a hissing noise and the doors parted, sliding seamlessly into the walls.
He recognized the room from the D-COMM connection—dozens of flat, clear screens, some overhead storage cabinets, a mussed-up bed with worn blankets, a wash of bluish white light coming from built-in fixtures. A door to the left led to what he assumed was a washroom, and directly opposite him, there was the door to the second podship hatch.
The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, her hair pooling over both shoulders and ending in a bundle of knotted frizz by her shins.
She was smiling, a close-lipped, polite look that was entirely at odds with the nerve-bundled reaction she’d had over the D-COMM.
But that smile faltered when she saw him.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “I was expecting the cyborg.”
“No need to look so disappointed.” Thorne thrust his hands into his pockets. “Cinder can fix ships, but she’s useless at flying them. I’ll be your escort today. Captain Carswell Thorne, at your service.” He tipped his head toward her.
Rather than swoon or flutter her lashes, as was duly expected of her, the girl looked away and glowered at one of the screens.
Coughing, Thorne rocked back on his heels. Somehow he’d expected that a girl with no prior human interaction would be a lot easier to impress.
“Are you all packed up? We don’t like to loiter in one spot for long.”
Her eyes flickered to him, hinting at annoyance. “No matter,” she murmured to herself. “Jacin and I will go to her then.”
Thorne frowned, feeling a twist of regret at his previous mocking, even if it had only been in his own head. What if the solitude really had driven her crazy? “Jacin?”
She stood up, her hair swinging against her ankles. He hadn’t been able to tell how tall she was before, but now seeing that she couldn’t have been much more than five feet, he felt comforted. Crazy or not, she was harmless.
Probably.
“Jacin, my guard.”
“Right. Well, why don’t you invite your friend Jacin to join us, and let’s get going?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be getting far.”
She stepped toward him, and in that movement, she changed. The nest of hair grew dark and silky as a raven’s wing. Her eyes changed from sky blue to slate gray, her pale skin turned golden, and her body stretched upward, becoming tall and graceful. Even her clothes changed, from the plain, worn day dress to a dove-white coat with long sleeves.
Thorne was quick to bury his surprise.
A thaumaturge. Figured.
Not one for denial, he accepted the immediate resignation with a stiffening of his shoulders. It had all been a trap then. The girl had been bait, or perhaps she’d been in on it all along. Funny—he usually had better instincts when it came to these sorts of things.
He stole another glance around the room, but there was no sign of the girl.
Something clanged outside the second entry hatch, shaking the satellite. Hope. His crew must have noticed something was wrong. That would be them now, aboard the second podship.
He called up his most practiced, most charming grin, and reached for his gun. He even felt a sting of pride when he managed to get it all the way out of its holster before his arm froze of its own accord.
Thorne shrugged with the one uncontrolled shoulder. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
The thaumaturge smirked and Thorne’s fingers loosened. The gun clattered to the ground.
“Captain Carswell Thorne, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m afraid you won’t have claim to the title for long. I’m about to commandeer your Rampion for the queen.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Additionally, I assume you are aware that assisting a wanted fugitive, such as Linh Cinder, is a crime punishable by death on Luna. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately.”
“Efficiency. I respect that.”
The second entry door opened behind her. Thorne tried to send mental warnings to his companions—it was a trap! Be ready!
But it was not Cinder or Scarlet or Wolf who stood in the second entry hatch, but a Lunar guard. Thorne’s hope began to wither.
“Jacin, we will be boarding the Rampion using its own podship.”
“Aah, you’re Jacin,” said Thorne. “I thought she was making you up.”
They ignored him, but he was rather used to that.
“Go see that it’s ready to disembark as soon as I’m finished here.”
The guard respectfully inclined his head and moved to follow her commands.
“Careful,” said Thorne. “It wasn’t an easy connection. Required some real precise maneuvering. In fact, would you like me to come disconnect the ship for you? Just to make sure you do it right?”
The guard eyed him smugly as he passed, not as empty-eyed as he’d appeared before. But he didn’t respond as he slipped into the corridor, heading toward Thorne’s podship.
The thaumaturge grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it at Thorne. He would have caught it on reflex, but it wasn’t necessary—his hands did all the work without him. Soon he found himself wrapping the blanket around his own wrists and tying it into intricate knots, giving the blanket a final yank with his teeth to tighten it into place.
“I look forward to returning to Luna aboard your ship and spreading the good news that Linh Cinder is no longer a threat to our crown.”
His eyebrow twitched. “Anything I can do to assist Her Majesty’s benevolent cause.”
The thaumaturge strode to a s
creen beside the hatch and entered a command—a security code followed by a complicated set of instructions. “I had at first considered turning off the life support and letting you and Crescent gasp for air as the oxygen was used up. But that could take too long, and I would hate to give you an opportunity to free yourselves and call for assistance. Instead, I will be merciful.” Finished, she straightened her long sleeves. “Consider yourself lucky that it will be quick.”
“I always consider myself lucky.”
Her gaze became hard as sterling and Thorne found himself marching toward the open door that led to the washroom. As he got closer, he saw the girl tied up with a sheet around her hands, knees, and ankles, and a cloth gag in her mouth. Remnants of tears streaked down her blotchy face. Her hair was a tangled mess on the ground all around her, many of the locks caught up in her bindings.
Thorne’s gut tightened. He’d been sure that she had betrayed them, but her trembling body and horrified expression said otherwise.
His knees gave way and he landed on the floor with a grunt. The girl winced.
Drawing a sharp breath through his nostrils, Thorne glared up at the thaumaturge. “Is this all necessary? You’re scaring the poor girl.”
“Crescent has no reason to be upset. It was her betrayal that brought us to this moment.”
“Right. The five-foot-tall girl tied up and gagged in the bathroom is always the one to blame.”
“Besides,” the thaumaturge continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m granting Crescent her greatest wish. I’m sending her to Earth.” She held up a small shimmering chip, identical to the D-COMM Cinder had been carrying around with her. “I’m sure Crescent won’t mind if I keep this. It is, after all, property of Her Majesty.”
Her sleeves whipped behind her as she left. Thorne heard her heels clipping down the docking hatch and the doors shut behind her. His podship’s engine was muffled, but he felt the slight jolt when they disconnected.
It was only then that he felt the first pang of helplessness.
She’d taken his ship.
That witch had taken his ship.
But the Rampion had a second shuttle. His crew could still come for them. Would come for them.
But then he sensed something new—a slight pull, a gentle shift—and the girl whimpered.
The satellite’s trajectory had been altered. Gravity was claiming them, drawing them out of their orbit.
The satellite was falling toward Earth.
Ten
“He’s attached,” said Scarlet, watching Thorne’s podship through the cockpit viewing window. “That wasn’t too embarrassing.”
Cinder propped herself against the door frame. “I hope he’s quick about it. We have no way of knowing that this girl isn’t being monitored.”
“You don’t trust her?” said Wolf.
“I don’t trust who she works for.”
“Wait. Is that another ship?” Scarlet jerked forward, pulling up a radar search on the screen beside her. “Our scanners aren’t seeing it.”
Wolf and Cinder clustered behind her, peering down at the podship, only slightly larger than Thorne’s, as it neared the satellite. Cinder’s heart began to pound. “Lunar.”
“It has to be,” said Scarlet. “If they’re blocking the signals—”
“No, look. The insignia.”
Wolf cursed. “It’s a royal ship. Probably a thaumaturge.”
“She betrayed us,” Cinder murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it.”
“Do we run?” asked Scarlet.
“And abandon Thorne?”
In the window, the Lunar podship had connected with the satellite’s second clamp. Cinder raked her fingers through her hair, her thoughts stumbling through her head. “Comm them. Establish the D-COMM link. We need to know what’s going on—”
“No,” said Wolf. “It’s possible they don’t know we’re here. Maybe she didn’t betray us. If they didn’t pick up our ship on radar, there’s still a chance they haven’t had visual of us.”
“They would know Thorne’s podship came from somewhere!”
“Maybe he’ll be able to get away,” Iko chimed in, but there wasn’t the normal enthusiasm to her tone.
“Against a thaumaturge? You saw how well that worked out in Paris.”
“So what do we do?” said Scarlet. “We can’t comm them, we can’t dock…”
“We should run,” said Wolf. “They’ll come for us next.”
They both looked at Cinder and she realized with a jolt that they expected her to take charge. But it wasn’t a simple decision. Thorne was down there. He’d walked right into a trap, and this had all been Cinder’s idea in the first place. She couldn’t leave him.
Her hands began to shake from gripping the chair. Every second of indecision was wasted time.
“Cinder.” Scarlet placed a hand on her arm. It only made her squeeze the chair tighter. “We have to—”
“Run. We have to run.”
Scarlet nodded. She spun back to the controls. “Iko, prep thrusters for—”
“Wait,” said Wolf. “Look.”
Beyond the cockpit window, a podship was disconnecting from the satellite. Thorne’s podship.
“What’s happening?” Iko asked.
Cinder hissed. “Thorne’s ship is coming back. Comm him.”
Scarlet pulled the comm screen up. “Thorne—report. What happened down there?”
The screen returned only static.
Cinder chewed on the inside of her cheek. After a moment, the static was replaced with a simple text comm.
CAMERA DISABLED. WE’RE INJURED. OPEN DOCK.
Cinder reread the message until the words blurred in her vision.
“It’s a trap,” said Wolf.
“It might not be,” she answered.
“It is.”
“We don’t know that for sure! He’s resourceful.”
“Cinder—”
“He could have survived.”
“Or it’s a trap,” muttered Scarlet.
“Cinder,” Iko broke in, her voice pitched high. “What should I do?”
She swallowed, hard, and shoved herself away from the chair. “Open the dock. Both of you, stay here.”
“Absolutely not.” Wolf fell into step beside her. She could tell that he was in fight mode—his shoulders hunched near his ears, his hands curled into claws, his stride fast and determined.
“Wolf.” Cinder pressed her titanium fist against his sternum. “Stay here. If there is a thaumaturge on that ship, Iko and I are the only ones who can’t be controlled.”
Scarlet latched on to his elbow. “She’s right. Your presence could do more harm than good.”
Cinder didn’t wait for Scarlet to convince him. She was already halfway down the ladder that dropped into the ship’s lower level. In the corridor between the podship dock and engine room, she stopped to listen. She heard the solid closing of the dock’s doors, and the life system pumping oxygen back into the space.
“Dock is secured,” said Iko. “Life system stabilized. Safe for entry.”
Cinder’s retina display was panicking, as it tended to do when she was nervous or afraid. Red diagnostics flared up in the corner of her vision, laced with warnings: BLOOD PRESSURE TOO HIGH; HEART RATE TOO FAST; SYSTEMS OVERHEATING, INITIALIZING AUTO-COOL RESPONSE.
“Iko, what do you see in there?”
“I can see that we need to get some real cameras installed on this ship,” she responded. “My sensor confirms that the podship has docked. I detect two life-forms inside, but it doesn’t seem that anyone has gotten out of the ship yet.”
Maybe they were too injured to get out of the ship.
Or maybe it was a thaumaturge, unwilling to leave the shuttle while there was still a chance they could reopen the docking doors and have everything inside sucked out into space.
Cinder opened the tip of her left pointer finger, loading a cartridge. Though she’d used up all her tranq
uilizer darts during the fight in Paris, she’d been able to manufacture some weapons of her own—projectiles made out of welded nails.
“We just received another text comm from the ship,” said Iko. “It says, ‘Help us.’”
Everything inside Cinder’s head was screaming at her—Trap. Trap. Trap.
But if it was Thorne … if Thorne was inside that ship, injured or dying …
Clearing her thoughts, she reached up and punched in the dock’s access code, then wrenched down the manual lever. The unlock mechanism clunked and Cinder held up her left hand like a gun.
Thorne’s podship was sandwiched between the second pod and a wall of cords and machinery bolted to the thick paneling: tools for loading and unloading freight, fueling equipment, jacks, air compressors, pneumatic coils.
She inched toward the ship.
“Thorne?” she said, craning her head. She spotted a lump of fabric in the pilot seat—a body hunched over.
Shaking, she swung open the door before ducking a few steps back and aiming her weapon at the body. His shirt was soaked in blood.
“Thorne!”
Lowering her hand, she reached forward, rolling him toward her. “What hap—”
An orange light brightened in the corner of her vision, her optobionics reminding her that her eyes were a weakness.
She gasped and raised her hand again, just as he shot forward. One hand wrapped around her wrist, the other clamped around her neck, his movements so fast Cinder fell onto the floor. For a moment it was Thorne on top of her, blue eyes surprisingly calm as he pinned her to the ground.
Then he morphed. His stare became cold and crystalline, his hair grew longer and lighter, and his clothes melded into the red and gray uniforms of the Lunar royal guard.
Her instincts seemed to recognize him before her eyes did, flaring with violent hatred. This was not any Lunar guard. This was the guard who had held her captive during the ball, while Levana taunted her and threatened Kai, threatened everyone.
But wasn’t he—
A fluttery laugh drifted through the air. Cinder squinted against the bright lights as a woman emerged from the podship.
Right. The personal guard to Head Thaumaturge Sybil Mira.
Cress Page 8
