by AJ Super
Nyx was nothing in comparison. There was no way she was a Star.
“I mean, you are your mother’s daughter. It’s in your genetic code. She was the Star of Nyx before you. Now you are the Star.” Matthews rolled over.
Nyx draped herself over the edge of the bunk. “You knew my maman?”
Matthews’ huge grin lolled to the side. “I did. And I knew who you were the minute you stepped foot on my ship. I’d recognize Nue’s daughter anywhere. You look so much like her.”
The blood rushed to Nyx’s head. This man was too young to know her maman. He was nearly the same age as her. She furrowed her brow and pushed herself up. Swinging her feet down and wrapping the thin, grey blanket around her shoulders, she hopped out of the cubby. Nyx trundled over to the bench and sat against the bars, shoulders slumping. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. She settled on the cold metal bench.
“Your powers are the reason I partially connected Erebus’ containment module to the weapons system in the first place. She’s a weapon, after all. Seemed poetic. I was just hoping the containment would hold long enough for you to figure out how to partition her properly in your operating system. You could’ve destroyed her permanently. Made sure she wasn’t a threat.” Matthews sniffed.
“How exactly do I have the power to do that?” Nyx whispered.
“Your power. Ah, your power.” Matthews leaned back into his bunk and pillowed his head with his arms. “You have power over energy and what forms it takes, so you have power over the Stars and how they manifest. It’s all dust and stars.”
“I don’t understand. How did I do that to Malcam?” She turned to the bars separating the cells. “How can I do that to a person?”
Matthews snorted. “Your infection, so to speak. You have tremendous power over his energy now. You can take it. You can give it back. The same with the Stars… but it’s more like you absorb their essence. Their energy is their code. Whereas humans have what Nue always described as a flame.”
She gripped the bars. “How do I fix Malcam?”
“Huh?” Matthews raised a brow and turned to his side to stare at Nyx. “Why would you do that?”
Nyx sank on the bench. Malcam deserved what came to him for killing Kai and destroying the Thanatos and its crew, but not this way. Besides, if he had been aged prematurely, that meant he wouldn’t be able to suffer the consequences. She wanted him to live a long life regretting what he had done to her, Erebus, the Thanatos, and to Kai. “I have my reasons.”
“Nothing is irreversible. Nothing can’t be undone. But I’m not going to be the one who shows you how to do it.” He rolled over on his back, voice tight. “You’ll have to figure it out yourself. That man wants to kill us. Let him suffer.”
“Why was Erebus in a special containment? What exactly was that containment for?”
“Nue came up with it. Not me.”
Nyx’s eyes widened. “My maman? Why?”
“Erebus grew out of control before. Infected so much tech. Took over too much of the human world. Started imposing her will on the human race. It’s not the first time, either. And it’ll happen again. When she becomes malignant, she’s a danger to humanity.”
“Why not just leave her in that containment module then? Why hook it up?” Nyx leaned on the bars.
Matthews flipped a hand. “It’s imperfect. The container itself was degrading because of Erebus’ nanos. Anyway, someone would have let her out eventually. If it was someone who wanted to use her, it would have been bad.”
“You trapped a sentient being.”
“What was I supposed to do? She was dangerous.”
“She was alive.”
Matthews sighed. “She endeared herself to you, I see. I’m sorry she’s gone now.”
Nyx shifted on the bench. “Malcam isn’t right, is he? There’s no backup, is there?”
“No. Only one sentience exists. You’re all very hard to copy. Well… They are very hard to copy.” He turned to his side, staring at Nyx. “You—you’re different from them. As different as the stars are in the sky.”
Nyx looked at Matthews curiously. He knew what she was, at least in part. He knew what her maman was.
Matthews’ eyes unfocused. “Nue was a beautiful woman.” He pursed his lips. “Mon petit papillon. I’m sorry. She was a great loss. Truly a remarkable Star.”
“What is the Star of Nyx?” she said, unable to hold her anticipation.
“A DNA based program, genetic memory passed through the pairing of the X-chromosome which enables the, er, user interface to transfer the infecting code to hosts, and then manipulate cellular growth and decay through the control of living code, or life-energy. That’s the best I can explain it.”
So Nyx wasn’t human. Neither had her maman been. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.
The door slid open. Red walked into the brig. “Open it. Open them both,” she ordered Tyco. “We’re going to dock, then take a shuttle and planetfall with these two.”
The dour-faced Tyco fumbled with the keys.
Red glared at Nyx. “We’ll be rid of them both after this. Thank the Seven Stars.”
“You’re welcome,” Nyx mumbled sarcastically.
“What was that?” the woman ground.
“Just wondering where we are.” Nyx lifted her head. No use starting a fight.
Red paused, before answering, “Elysion.”
22
The black, aluminum walls closed on Nyx as the hatch shut behind the shadow of Tyco at the back of the shuttle. Red pushed her onto a straight-backed bench with a thud. The air rushed out of Nyx’s lungs. The metal icy beneath her legs, she shivered, hands in magnetic manacles behind her back. Her shoulders ached.
Matthews shifted his shackled hands to the side, spread his fingers, sidled past Nyx, and sat without prodding. The petite, muscular woman leered over the two seated prisoners.
Chewing on his lip, white-haired Malcam leaned over the co-pilot’s seat next to a hooded pilot and chatted quietly.
Tyco flopped on the bench across from Nyx, pistol trained on the two shackled hostages, his dull brown eyes glaring down his hawk-nose.
Nyx twisted her wrists in the stiff metal restraints, rolling her shoulders back uncomfortably. There had to be a way to get the key from Tyco, demagnetize them, grab a weapon, and take over the shuttle. Matthews and she could get away. There was a whole world they could escape on once they made planetfall.
Matthews grinned furiously. His eyes danced. He looked as if he would break into laughter at any moment.
Nyx sighed. He wouldn’t be of any help. His time dilation sickness seemed to be playing up, and he was giddily along for the ride.
Red glanced over her shoulder at Tyco.
Tyco flipped his gaze at Red and nodded. “Demon-spawn has that look.”
Red grinned and shook her head. “It’s not going to work. Didn’t work for us back in the African Continental Governance’s mining camp transport.”
Tyco scowled. “Says who? We got out.” He pulled at the collar of his black tee and scratched at the scar near his collar bone.
Nyx narrowed her eyes. His scar was lower than most others she’d seen for ACG defectors. It was situated closer to where the North American Union tagged their residents. She tilted her head. If he was NAU, he shouldn’t have been in an ACG mining camp transport.
Tyco guffawed. “I think we confused her.”
“What part can’t you figure out?” Red leaned forward. “Why it won’t work, or why we were in a transport together to begin with?”
Nyx smiled. “The last one. You were ACG, and he was NAU.”
Red and Tyco looked shocked.
It wouldn’t hurt to tell them her little trick. It may even put them at ease and make it simpler to escape… “Your scars. I grew up seeing lots of them in space. People running away from the Protectorate. You get used to identifying people by their scars. Though it’s harder when people are space-born to figure out where their people come
from. Blackers only keep culture if it really meant something.”
Red put a hand over the scar on her ivory neck. “Never knew my whole story was out there for all to see.”
Tyco glowered. “Neat trick.”
Nyx shrugged. “So, why were two people from the NAU and ACG on the same mining camp transport? Isn’t it illegal for the under-governments to trade workers between nations?”
Tyco rubbed his nose. “Funny: a pirate asking if slaving is illegal. It’s not like we don’t sell people who we pull off ships to the asteroid mines all the time.”
Nyx shifted uncomfortably. The Thanatos didn’t do that anymore. They merely threatened to and extorted money out of Protectorate pockets for the hostages. It was less money than selling people, but Nyx was never comfortable with the idea of taking someone’s freedom permanently.
“It happens on Earth more than you think,” Tyco continued. “Workers go in thinking they’ll be working off debt to their own country, but then they get shipped off to another corporate country looking to make a cheap buck off the back of free labor.”
“My debt wasn’t even that big,” Red complained. “But they found ways to make me pay more.”
“At least you weren’t shipped away from your home.” Tyco eyed her.
“I know. I had privileges you didn’t.” She frowned. “Doesn’t mean terrible things didn’t happen to me, too.”
Tyco nodded and glared at Nyx. “You may be able to tell where a person is from by their scars, but their scars are their stories. They have a right to them. And a right to keep them private if they want. I wouldn’t go around flashing that talent of yours too much. It’s invasive.”
Nyx smiled softly. “I understand. Thank you.”
They sat in silence for a while, and she shifted her hands to the side leaning awkwardly, her right elbow cramping. She scooted forward a bit and looked over her shoulder at her bound hand and the magnetic cuff digging into the small of her back.
A wisp of white flicked off her wrist.
She blinked, startled. The wisp curled and gathered around her hand, looping up her forearm in a thin ribbon. It passed over her skin in ebbs and flows. No one else reacted to the illusory glow.
Glancing at Red and Tyco, she squirmed with the tendril as it passed across her elbow. It retreated as she flexed her forearm, fluttering away on butterfly wings. The white wisp settled into her veins, sending electricity through her arm. Nyx clenched her fist hard.
Red raised a neat copper brow.
Nyx needed to calm down to control her powers. They were burning through her. The white energy released fire in her veins. She wanted to claw her skin and grab the energy pulsing in her blood.
Malcam patted the hooded pilot’s shoulder and stooped into the berth. The blue coils of light filtered from him like a lamp.
Nyx’s shoulders tightened. It was the same light she pulled from him when he changed from the young, vibrant monster of a man to the white-haired, gaunt shell who shuffled through the shuttle cabin towards her now. If she could pull that light to her again, she was sure he would weaken. It would be a good distraction, Malcam mewling like a kitten as he died. Then she and Matthews could take the shuttle, ignoring the fact that Red and Tyco had their guns aimed at them. She was certain she could disarm at least one of the brute-squad. She glanced at the wildly grinning Matthews. If only he could disarm the other.
She only needed to grab those deep blue whorls oozing from Malcam and pull the light from him, pull the life from him.
Matthews’ head lolled. If she made a move, she hoped he would back her up. If not, Red or Tyco would likely shoot her, or smash her in the head again.
The shuttle jostled as it hit atmosphere.
Malcam poked Nyx in the forehead. “I’m gonna get what’s in there. You’re going to reverse what you did to me.”
Nyx glared at him. “Even if I had what you were looking for… or knew exactly what I did…”
“Even if you don’t, my pain will be yours,” Malcam grimaced.
The shuttle jostled again. Malcam stumbled. Red bumped into Tyco.
Matthews bolted upright and threw himself into the soldiers, a pile of limbs and weapons. A soft pop sounded in the pile.
Nyx slid her hips through the circle of her arms and leapt up. She faced Malcam, his pale blue eyes widening. Nyx lunged and pressed the manacles against his throat, clasping her hands behind his neck and squeezing.
The blue swirls of light whisked around her fingers. She snatched at them with twined fingers. They parted and flittered away. She squeezed Malcam’s neck as he backed away, clawing at her hands. Why had it been so easy to twine into his energy before? Why couldn’t she get her wisps to cooperate now?
She willed a single tendril to curl into his brilliant blue fiery waves. It twined through, then slipped free.
Malcam reached behind his neck, wrenched her fingers back, and released her grip.
She scrabbled at the air around him, grasping at the elusive blue whorls, looking like she was the one with time dilation sickness.
Malcam bent her wrist and twisted her arm, spinning her down to her knees.
“No,” Nyx wailed. “They’re there. They’re right there. How come I can’t…?” She sobbed. “I can’t… save… anyone.” She bowed her head, the weight of loss pressing her down.
Malcam shoved her head to the floor. “You’re not all-powerful. That’s good.”
Red extricated herself from the tangle Matthews created, slammed Matthews back into his seat. She glared at Nyx. “You are demon-spawn.”
“My crew thinks less of you than I do,” Malcam grinned, pressing Nyx’s head sideways into the floor. “Red, shoot her the next time she moves.” He dragged Nyx up by the back of her neck and threw her onto the bench.
Nyx crumbled over. It was hopeless. She couldn’t get them out of this. She laid her head in her lap and looked at Matthews.
He was covered in blood.
Shock snaked through her, electric.
His deep, hazel-green eyes were wide.
“Seven Stars,” Nyx whispered, remembering the pop she’d heard when Matthews tackled Malcam’s goons. “All that blood…” This couldn’t be happening. She was going to lose another person. She felt the tears rip into the corners of her eyes.
Matthews nodded across from them. “It’s his.”
Nyx raised her head.
Tyco lay gasping. He held up a hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s a nic. Pulse rifle went off.” He lifted his other hand from just above his collar bone. “Just need the medic.”
Malcam roared and grabbed Matthews by the throat, lifting him from his seat. Matthews sputtered.
Nyx sprang to her feet as Red glanced at Tyco. “I wouldn’t move,” she rasped and shook her rifle at Nyx. The woman’s sapphire eyes glassed over, and her voice quaked. “I really wouldn’t move.”
Nyx held her hands out and slapped the barrel away. “Malcam wants me alive so badly, I don’t think so.” She lunged at Red, who brought the butt of the gun around and slammed it across Nyx’s face. Nyx’s nose cracked, and her head snapped to the side. Red shoved the dizzy Nyx back down onto the cold bench, where she leaned against the metal wall, blood quickly stopping from her nose. She straightened it with a small crack. Her nano-medics would fix her face in no time. She grinned bloodily at Red.
“You’re going to be sorry you did that,” Red said, her ivory cheeks crimson with rage. She flipped the charger on her pulse rifle and pushed her copper hair out of her eyes.
“Try anything again, and you’re a dead man, Matthews,” Malcam growled. He slammed Matthews against the bulkhead and pivoted. “You’re both dead.” He stormed to the front of the shuttle with the pilot. “Make sure you get Tyco right back to the Medusa after we disembark.”
Nyx leaned back as Matthews slid onto the seat, his hand holding the back of his head.
Red glared at them. “Give me a reason. I want to shoot you.”
The shuttle wobb
led. It set down on the planetside docks.
Malcam looked over his shoulder and the back of the shuttle opened like a gaping metal mouth, gangplank lowering and roof aperture rising. He pulled his pistol out and pointed it from his hip at Nyx.
She stood.
Red tapped Matthews on the shoulder with the barrel of her rifle. Together, the two prisoners walked down the plank and into the pale purple light of Elysion.
23
The filth laden docks were piled with crates and barrels in every corner. The smell of trash permeated, a combination of old oil from leaking shuttles and rotting fruit hiding in the overflowing recycler bins.
These oxide-dripped, steel-covered buildings weren’t the memory she had of Elysion. The only thing that was true to her remembrance was the pale purple sky, the edges lit in hues of gold and coral as the sun set into a deep aubergine. The blue lights of the city washed away all but a giant swath of brilliant stars belting the sky in swirling halves.
The streets were full of view-screens, most at a level too high to be touched, but those on street-level were guarded by a round of metal mesh so they couldn’t be vandalized by angry locals or drunk Blackers. Most of the screens above street-level displayed neon advertisements, flashing words and pictures. The screens at street-level displayed a conservatively dressed woman reading local edicts and news.
Malcam stopped by one of the screens, grinding his teeth.
“Curfew remains at sunset. Queen’s justice will be meted to those out past curfew. All law-abiding citizens should be in their homes by sunset,” the neatly coifed woman in navy droned.
Malcam snorted. “Home sweet home.”
“This place has changed,” Matthews muttered.
“No.” Malcam turned to Matthews. “It’s always been like this in Downside. You’re mistaking this place for where you Upsiders play. Downsiders have always had to deal with ‘queen’s justice’ and scrounge in the muck.”
“It was different when Nue was Senator and represented…,” Matthews said quietly.
