Erebus Dawning: A Space Opera Adventure (Seven Stars Saga Book 1)

by AJ Super

  Nyx’s heart clutched. It was their life together, their friendship, their long nights cuddling in bed looking at the ceiling and whispering. It was family. She was throwing it away.

  But she needed to know who, and what, she was.

  The gangplank began to rise, and the shuttle engines warmed. She put the ring in Matthews’ hand and patted his fist. “He’ll want it.”

  Matthews swung onto the rising shuttle, nodding as he disappeared into the back of the dark closing gangplank.

  Nyx raised her hand. “I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll find you all once Erebus and the Thanatos are safe. Once I have my answers.”

  31

  Nyx walked quickly down the path between the stacked crates from the berth. White smoke from the shuttle’s engines wisped across the ground and eased around canvas-covered boxes and pyramids of plastic barrels. The acrid smell of burning electrical wiring, lingering from the bomb, tickled Nyx’s nose. The round-edged, grey shuttle lifted away with a rumble.

  She paused at the entrance to the berth, glancing up and down the street. People were opening their shops along the thorough-way. There weren’t many loitering about.

  Her shoulders sagged, exhausted. Covered in red dust from wresting with the Queensman and blood from two newly healed injuries, she couldn’t blend with the people who knew where they were going, who had a purpose. She didn’t know her purpose. Or where she was going. She had no idea where to find the hidden Star of Crius.

  Erebus should be on the planet. She had begun to infect Elysion-connected tech. She could find Crius for Nyx.

  She scanned the street again. There still weren’t many people around the docks. From a caged display, a navy-clad brunette telecaster mouthed some nonsense Nyx couldn’t hear from where she stood. It was only six meters away, and there were few prying eyes. She swept from the cover of the crates and strode to the grate-surrounded display.

  Nyx stared hard at the rippling screen through the perforated grate, looking for any sign of Erebus. A faint ring of green and gold light shone around the display. “Come on. Come on. You have to be in there,” she whispered. “Erebus. Be in there.”

  A word flashed across the screen.

  Virus.

  Nyx wrinkled her brow.

  Containing.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nyx muttered at the screen. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

  Confused.

  “Where are you?” Nyx gripped the metal grate around the display. “You have to tell me, so I can bring help.”

  Where? Help.

  “Oh, Stars.” Nyx huffed. “I’m trying. But I have to find Crius. They’re here.”

  Crius.

  “I need help finding them.”

  Underground.

  Nyx furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. Underground? Where? How do I get underground?”

  Virus. Help.

  A hand clapped on Nyx’s shoulder and yanked her from the grate, spinning her around. A small bloom of blood opened on her finger as it caught on the perforated metal. Her white tendrils amassed around the pinpoint of liquid red.

  Nyx’s eyes widened. She couldn’t infect more people. She clasped her hands, pressing the bleeding finger into her palm.

  A woman in an olive-green uniform hulked in front of her. “No hanging on the display cages. What are you, a monkey?”

  “S-sorry,” Nyx stuttered and bowed her head. The finger was cut badly. Blood oozed out of her clutched fist. If these Queen’s Guard moved to shackle her, they would get it on them.

  “Can’t be that interesting, can it? It’s just, what? Updates on new docking procedure legislation,” a wiry boy in uniform snickered from behind the tall woman. “Must really be into politics.”

  “You like politics?” the hulking woman sneered.

  Nyx nodded meekly.

  “Huh. Guess there’s something for everyone.” The woman’s face brightened. “Get out of here.”

  Nyx scrambled away. She stuck her finger in her mouth. It had to stop bleeding soon. Her healing abilities would catch up to the deep wound. She pulled her finger from her mouth. The blood had slowed to a faint crescent, but it looked like she had almost cut the tip of her finger off by the tracing of blood left. She needed to be more careful.

  She cast a glance up the street corner. A sign in blinking blue read “Imperial” with an old-Earth style martini glass underneath it, tipping left and right in neon pink.

  Nyx walked towards the door. The stench of alcohol and vomit oozed around the entry. She covered her mouth and nose. The sign flickered. The door peeled. The curfew must have put a damper on business, since no late-night crowd made the walk of shame. She stepped closer to the door, and it shuddered open, a motion sensor inviting her in.

  The scent of vomit and alcohol pounded her harder. She cringed, eyes watering. But she wanted to pause and think, and she needed a lead. Maybe someone, anyone in here would know something. She could ask around, find out what, or where, ‘underground’ was.

  She walked to the cracked blue vinyl bar seats and sat. A view-screen behind the bar droned with scores from the latest bozulball matches.

  A portly, weak-chinned bartender shuffled over. “What’ll it be?” he drawled in a thick Queen’s Speech accent, without looking up. When he finally did, surprise showed in his face. “You’re in rough shape.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” She sighed, shoulders drooping.

  The balding bartender grabbed a glass from a rack of just-cleaned glasses sitting on the bar. “Don’t often get Blackers in here.”

  “Was hoping to get some water. I’m thirsty.” Nyx smiled warmly at him.

  “Sure. Doesn’t cost anything. Yet,” he mumbled and started filling a glass with water. “Ice?”

  “Just water is fine.” Nyx glanced around the bar. “It’s quiet in here.”

  He pulled his mouth into a line. “Curfew’s gonna put me out of business. Especially if they keep ratcheting it down.” He placed the water in front of Nyx. The glass was spotless, and the water clear and cool. “Can’t even keep a staff to clean the place.”

  Nyx nodded. She glanced at her glass and then at the barkeep. Something about him was familiar. She had seen him before, but couldn’t quite place him.

  His forehead creased, and he put down the glass he was polishing. “You’re not from around here. You look like you could be, but you’re not.”

  Nyx shrugged. “I just got in yesterday. I was told my family was from Elysion, though.”

  “Upsiders, I bet,” he growled.

  Nyx leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her chin in her palms. “But they fought for equal rights before everything went sideways. They were at the massacre. My maman died there.”

  “Sorry. Knew a lot of good people that died that night. Putain Nue Marcus for bringing the queen down on us.” The bartender spat on the floor.

  Nyx shifted in her seat and spun the glass in front of her. She took a big gulp of her water. She didn’t know the specifics. Even if the memory hadn’t been taken from her, she would have been too young to understand the politics that had turned Elysion into a Protectorate occupied planet. She only knew that there had been a major riot that the Queensmen quelled and then stayed in Elysion, taking control of the government in a rather bloody show of force. Then the Queen’s Guard was established to enforce Protectorate law. “Could you tell me exactly what happened?”

  The man scratched the side of his belly and squinted. “Everyone knows the Protectorate’s story. Riots destabilized the Senate, so the queen offered her hand to help, but the Senate couldn’t get back on its feet, so the Protectorate took over. For our own good.” He frowned.

  Nyx nodded.

  The weak-chinned man leaned in. “What if I told you that Senator Nue arranged for her sister, the Queen of the Protectorate, to be here at the exact time the riots started. And that the riots were instigated by parties loyal to the Protectorate?”

>   A chill ran its fingers down Nyx’s spine. She could see Queen Phoebe doing something like that, but her maman? “Why would Senator Nue do something like that?”

  “At the time she was the Senator with the most influence with the under-governments of the Protectorate and the Protectorate as a whole. Probably because of the suspected relationship of the Queen of the Protectorate and her. I mean, they’d have to be sisters, right?” He leaned back, picked up the glass he was polishing, and set it on a shelf below the bar. “They had nearly the same tattoos right up the side of their faces. They had to have some kind of relationship.”

  Nyx took a drink of her water. If this man only knew what relationship her family had to the queen, he likely wouldn’t let her sit in his bar.

  “You’re not here for a history lesson, though.” He pointed to his eye then held up another glass to be polished. “I can tell when people are looking for something. Comes with the territory.”

  Nyx smiled weakly, and a small laugh bubbled from her chest. “I’m looking for ‘underground,’” she tried.

  The bartender frowned again. “What do you want with there? Blackers don’t normally want anything to do with that business.”

  “I’m looking for a family member. Last time I saw them, they were headed somewhere. Best guess I have is underground.” She grit her teeth and took a wild stab with what little information she had. “They’re probably with someone named Rishi.”

  The portly man shook his head, muttering to himself, “Rishi Patel, now you’ve got Blackers looking for you. What kind of trouble did you get into this time? Stupid girl.”

  Nyx gripped her glass. Rishi. He knew the name of the dark-haired girl in the red jacket who was with Crius. Suddenly, she knew where she had seen this man before. Her eyes widened. “You were in the cell with us.”

  “Huh? Cell?” He set down the glass in front of Nyx and stared at her. “Oh-ho. It’s you! You got locked up with that big group of Blackers. We all got released before you. Thought you were bound for the courts. Or something more,” he looked her up and down and cleared his throat, “nefarious?”

  She didn’t want to get this man in trouble. The less detail he knew, the better. After a pause, she asked, “How do you know Rishi?”

  Without glancing from his work, he said, “She’s my daughter.”

  Nyx froze to her seat.

  “So, I would know if this family you were looking for was me and her. And it obviously isn’t.” He slid a glass away on the shelf under the bar-top.

  Nyx didn’t want to push the man. He clearly knew what she was looking for and hadn’t decided to help her yet. But she had to try. She needed to convince him. “Please. I have to find my family. They’re the only hope I have of saving my other sister.”

  The bartender raised an eyebrow. “We all have family we need to protect, Blacker.”

  Nyx spun her glass of water in her hands. “It concerns your family, too. If I don’t get help saving my sister, the queen will have a way to subjugate the entire universe.”

  The man tensed, knuckles whitening around a crystal-clear glass. “It’s that dire, huh? The fate of the universe, huh?”

  Nyx nodded, setting her water down gently. “You have no reason to trust me, I know. But, please, if I can find Crius…” Nyx caught herself too late. She hadn’t meant to say their name.

  “Figures they’d be caught up with the queen. It’s that stupid tattoo that gives them away. Never much liked that Rishi trusted that indigo-haired, coot. Always had a sense that they had secrets,” the bartender grumbled.

  Nyx cleared her throat. “Where’s underground?”

  He blew out a breath and pulled another glass from his rack. “Well, Underground isn’t necessarily a place, so much as it is a group of people. They change places. Frequently. I wouldn’t be able to tell you where they are. But I may be able to point you in a direction.” The bartender wiped furiously at a spot on the glass in his hand.

  “That would be fantastic.” Nyx gulped her water, leaving the glass empty.

  “Go to the junk market two streets down. There’s a console and display hardware stall. Rishi should be there.”

  Nyx’s head snapped up. “Rishi herself?”

  He raised a brow. “She’ll be able to tell you more information than I can.” He paused. “Be careful, though. There’s rumors that Underground may be a part of some rebel alliance, and the local Queen’s Guard has been gunning for them. With the increased presence of those caped Queensmen, it’s possible the queen herself believes the rumors.”

  Nyx snorted. “After what the queen did to the last group who stood up to her? I’m not sure rebels exist anymore.”

  The bartender set his polished glass on a shelf under the bar and picked up another one. “I don’t know. I hear Blacker stories of pirates. Those people are rebels in my book. Just not very organized ones.”

  Nyx blushed. She’d never thought of herself as a rebel, only as someone trying to survive.

  The bartender squinted suspiciously at Nyx. “Now why would that cause you to turn that shade of red?”

  She laughed and lifted her empty glass. “Never been called a rebel before. Thank you for the water. Next time, I’ll have money.”

  The bartender puffed his cheeks and nodded as Nyx swept out the door and into the brightening day, lavender sky painted with silver clouds.

  32

  The market was a jumble of stalls made with crates, barrels, canvas tarps, scrap wood, and bits of any metal that wasn’t nailed down. The effect was more shanty town than city market. To be fair, it was a junk market in the slums of Elysion. Most of what was for sale was found in the recycler trolleys from the Upsiders, the wealthier citizens. These were the Downsiders, scavengers and thieves, people who scrounged for every last thing they owned.

  Nyx jumped as a child scurried past her in the alley. It was getting more crowded. Guardsmen uniforms dotted the street in increasing numbers. People milled around stalls and walked down the avenue.

  The lavender sky slowly turned eggplant, dark clouds hovering, making the air sticky.

  Nyx glanced up, her jumpsuit clinging humidly to her skin. She felt exposed in her ripped-up suit. She wasn’t sure how people could walk by her without giving her a second glance. Granted, the black color of her clothes hid the crusted blood well, and the dry red Elysion dust was starting to slough off as she moved.

  It would rain soon. The cooling showers would be welcome when the afternoon heat descended. Maybe she could get a free wash from the water falling from the sky.

  She scanned the rickety stalls. She needed to find a hardware stall. About half-way down the street, she saw a console display leaned against a pole holding a tattered, brown canvas tarp as an awning. Good as any place to start.

  Two children ran past her, bouncing a red ball. They giggled, passing the ball between them, around Nyx. She tottered as the ball bounced in front of her, causing her to miss a step.

  She paused and smiled. The children wore threadbare clothes, and the worn red ball was patched. But they played as if it didn’t matter. They ran down the street, zigzagging through the crowd, tossing their ball like it was a game of keep-away from the adults.

  Nyx walked to the dead display and stood in front of it. A woman in brown stood behind a counter made of two overturned recycler bins and a single board. Nyx gazed at the crowd forming in the streets. It would be harder to find Rishi the later it got, the more people there were in the streets frequenting the stalls. She would have to go stall to stall, and it would take time. Too much time.

  She glimpsed movement to the right, behind the woman in brown tending the stall with the display screen. A flash of black hair and almond-colored eyes in a red jacket dashed away.

  “Rishi,” Nyx shouted. “Wait. I need to—” She leaned over the stall counter as the jacket disappeared behind a row of stalls and into an alley.

  The woman in brown shrieked and pounded on her back. Nyx covered her head, scrambli
ng across the heavy wood and toppling the rigged counter. “Merde!” Nyx climbed through the stall and trotted to an alley behind the row of makeshift stalls.

  Shadows covered the narrow lane. Six-foot-tall, peeling green steel recycler trolleys hugged the walls of the buildings. Busted-open crates and broken barrels leaned against the trolleys.

  The flash of a red jacket caught Nyx’s eye.

  She started forward. And stopped.

  Following a highly noticeable piece of bait down a dark alley? This was a trap. She shook her head. This was going to suck. She needed Rishi to get to the Underground, to get to Crius. If this was how she had to do it, walking into a trap was how it was going to be.

  She didn’t have to run into it, though.

  Nyx looked behind her and walked slowly into the alley. She held her hands away from her sides, fingers splayed. No use making any sudden moves or making it look like she had a gun that she would pull quickly. She did have a gun, holstered to her thigh, one of the Queensmen’s decorated white and gold energy pistols, but she wasn’t about to reach for it.

  She reached the center of the alley and paused. No trap sprung yet.

  Maybe she was just being paranoid. Nyx relaxed her shoulders.

  A girl in a red jacket stepped out of the shadows and stood at the other end of the alley, waiting, head down and hands in her pockets.

  Nyx tensed. She stopped her hand from flying to the grip of the pistol at her thigh. There had to be a shooter somewhere in this alley, and she couldn’t afford to start a fight. In any case, she was only after one thing: she needed to talk to Crius.

  The barrel of a gun pressed the back of her head.

  “One step forward,” a silky voice murmured.

  Nyx stepped forward.

  “Don’t turn around. Why are you following Rishi?” the silky voice demanded.

  “Why did she run away?” Nyx’s gut dropped. There was a short chunk-chunk as the load of a projectile weapon was chambered. She shouldn’t antagonize these people. They were more than willing to get rid of her, she was sure.