by Abby J. Reed
“Cal—” I started after him.
But he was already striding away, too fast for me to catch.
Chapter 18
LUKA
When the official vote was cast, the count was as I predicted—near unanimous. Even the Elik and Herons were more than eager to vote in Cal as the new chief. Anybody who could work was out bolstering the weaker parts of the tunnel to buy us time. It was up to me to tell him.
Cal had taken over three rooms in this section of the underground for his work. I found him holed up with all the Extrat victims that could be saved. They sat cross-legged on the floor or against the wall with those creepy-ass, smooth faces. There weren’t many. Rough tubing had been shoved into the base of the throats so they could breathe. Their families gathered around them, holding their hands, whispering encouragement and grief into their ears. How were they supposed to eat or drink like that?
The entire scene made me uncomfortable. I shifted at the doorway, unwilling to go inside. “Cal. A word?”
Cal adjusted one of the tubes, patting the victim’s hand. He had buttoned up a faded saffron coat to keep the blood from his clothes. He wiped off his hands on a rag, stuffed it in a pocket, and came over. He missed the thankful looks thrown his way. “Well?”
“You won.”
His shoulder sagged against the doorway. A funeral crowd would look more cheery than him. “Wonderful.”
I tilted my head to the neighboring room. Anybody who was not in life threatening condition waited inside for Cal’s attention. “How bad?” I said.
Cal winced. Then led me farther away from the door where nobody could overhear. “Twenty dead. Two with stolen faces survived. Seven wounded. Would’ve been worse if those Heron soldiers hadn’t helped. They had some training, even if they were using Elik weapons.” He looked exhausted. “I’ve put Malani and Breaker on cataloguing those who died.”
I peered around him to the Extrat victim room. “They’re dead weight, you know. They won’t be able to run when the Extrats come through.”
Cal frowned. “They’re people, Luka.”
“When you asked me to be your second, my job became to think about the survival of the whole and the risks to that survival.”
“We can’t leave them here.”
“I know. Your job is to figure out how to make them moveable.”
Cal’s entire body slumped. “I’ll think of something.”
I hesitated, then put my hand on his shoulder. “I know you will.” I turned to leave him to his work.
“Wait.” His voice was barely whisper level.
Nothing good ever followed a tone like that. “What?”
He gestured in the direction of the third room, well away from the other two. “I’d been working on experiments before you guys arrived. Had to sneak behind Malvyn’s back in order to do them. I really need to finish. I’m nearly there.”
“It can’t wait until we’re not facing extinction?”
“I have a feeling it’s important.”
I sighed. “Let me know when you wanna play and I’ll cover for ya. Can’t buy you more than a couple horas.”
“That’s all I’ll need. Right after the war council meeting will work.”
I turned to leave, but Cal caught my arm. He paused, his fingers digging in. “Why the hell did you nominate me, man? I don’t want this.”
I pushed him off. “I knew you wouldn’t want the role.”
“If you knew, then why . . .?” Cal tilted his head, understanding dawning. “You need my face in front because you knew they’d accept me.” He groaned. “You needed a cooperative puppet leader so you could move behind the scenes.”
“You’re not as slow as you seem.”
Cal chuckled. “You might be smarter than Breaker gives you credit for.”
“I know I’m smarter than Breaker gives me credit for.”
“Did you mean what you said, though? About us needing a healer? Or was that part of the sell?”
I stopped shifting away and truly looked at Cal. His curls were tinged rust from dust and his eyes had sunken into his skull. I didn’t know it was possible for someone so young to be so old. “If you want a pep talk, go to Breaker.”
“I don’t want a pep talk. I want the truth.”
I rolled my lips inward. “I didn’t know I meant it until I said it. In order to survive this, maybe we need a leader who sees everybody as a person and worth saving, not as dead weight. Maybe, if there’s an afterward, that leader could make a real difference.”
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, seeming to center himself. When he opened them, an energy burned within. His back straightened and an invisible mantle settled. Authority looked good on him. “If.”
I tapped the wall with my fist. “If.”
I left him and moved on to my other piece of business.
Chief Malvyn—no, not Chief, just Malvyn—sat with palms on his knees against the back of his cell. A dingy fire lantern hung from a wall outside, faintly illuminating his form.
I squinted at him, arms crossed over my chest. Considering he barely escaped a ship crash with his life, he seemed awful healthy. For several secs, all I could think about was finishing what the wreck started.
But Yana asked me not to.
Out of nowhere, deranged midnight and white flashes broke across Malvyn’s face like a starburst. I bit the inside of my lip hard. A sense of foreboding and pressure suddenly released, as though I’d been carrying a weight without realizing it. There’d been so much going on, I hadn’t noticed the distortion growing in my vision.
I grabbed the hilts of my minis to steady myself. Strength flowed into me.
Well. At least the migraine aura hadn’t hit while I was guarding the core.
I looked past the curving C-shape to the wall, mentally embracing the pain. “What’s beyond the mist?” I said. “Can we escape if we go south?”
Malvyn leaned his head against the wall. He smiled blankly at the ceiling, no longer the big compound leader, but a man waiting for his execution.
“I could send you outside to the Extrats,” I said.
His laugh was throaty. “I would rather stay in here, thank you.”
“Then what’s to the south?”
“Nothing. Nothing but dead scout parties who could not find their way back.”
“So they got lost?”
“They found the ocean,” he said. “And the ocean leads to the Black Chain Islands.”
“Why is that important?”
“I have my suspicions.”
“Which are?”
“And what would I gain by telling you?”
“You don’t have anything to lose,” I said. “Except being thrown outside to fend for yourself.”
Malvyn’s nose wrinkled. The only hint of displeasure. “I believe that is where these Extrats came from.”
We already knew that. But the way he said it: These Extrats. As though he knew there were others. Could that be how he knew their name? But how did he know there were others in the galaxy if we were incapable of outside communication for generations? The aura swarmed over half my vision, and it took all my focus to not let my gaze wander and show weakness. “How did they get there?”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to waste your time pursuing this line of inquiry?”
I poured every spare joule of energy into my alpha gaze.
No. I didn’t.
If we could no longer fly, and if we had no place to run to, then maybe there was still a way to send out a help signal to Scorpia. “Could we send out a signal if we reprogrammed the radio tower?”
His grin was lazy and resigned. “You could run in any direction you want. You can do whatever you want. It will not matter.
We are all dead.”
Reprogram out the tower, then. Breaker would know how. “Don’t be so pessimistic.”
“I have played this game a lot longer than you.” His gaze burned bright with memory. “The Elik did not realize what they had. They squabbled for cycles, arguing over its religious value, debating like children whether or not they had the divine right to mine the metal. They could’ve built an empire by now. They could have ruled over the stars.” His voice tightened with disgust. “Such potential, squandered.”
My arms flexed as I tried to keep my anger in. The aura played with my peripheral vision now, cutting the lantern light into fractals. The dry heave building in my throat was overwhelming. I will not be weak here. “Lemme guess. You also know when to risk and change the game? Take the dark matter for yourself? Build your own little empire instead of waiting to attach yourself onto those who could’ve done it for you?”
“I also know when it’s time to leave the game board altogether.”
“That’s why you tried to leave? Don’t want to die with the rest of us?” I flicked the bars of his cell with a clink. The aura was a fast one, already starting to clear. My shoulders threw back with my tiny victory. I had an aura. And Malvyn couldn’t tell. He wasn’t the know-it-all he believed himself to be. “Looks to me like you failed.”
Malvyn’s lip curled in a sneer. “I knew your father.”
“Then you know what happened to him.”
Malvyn nodded. He turned his head away from me, breaking that steady gaze. “I thought so.”
My fists clenched, and not just from preparing my body for the future pain. He was trying to unhinge me, trying to force me to make a mistake. As though if he wasn’t going to live, then he was going do his bloody best to make sure the rest of us didn’t either.
As long as I saved Yana, LuLu, and, whatever, Mateo, I didn’t care if the compound burned. Let the Queen have it. Nothing but a floating hunk in the void of space anyway. But, right now, my team extended past my family, past Breaker and Malani, to the five hundred or so survivors left who clung to life in the underground.
You protect your own.
That’s power.
That’s loyalty.
That’s love.
“I won’t let this compound fall apart.”
Malvyn smirked at the empty wall. “You just try, boy, you just try.”
Chapter 19
TAHNYA
The lock on the apartment door clicked. A long scratching noise—metal against tile—came from the kitchen area. My heart rattled against my chest like a raven against a cage. I tugged at the door handle, throwing my body against it. It wouldn’t budge, it wouldn’t budge, it wouldn’t—Trapped. I was trapped.
I had never left our apartment, never left the compound, never left Scarlatti. Freedom was a dream. I had been and would always be trapped.
The figure stepped out of the kitchen, roped in shadows. A shaft of light filled with dust motes drifted from a window that didn’t exist. It cut between me and the figure to separate us.
I slammed my fist against the door. My veins bulged.
Veins.
Elik.
I was Elik. I could fight. I could fight! I slammed my back against the door. Raised my hands at the figure.
Froze.
My hands were covered in red blood. Red. Not blue. Not Elik.
That, too, was a dream.
My throat closed as the figure stepped into the dingy light shaft.
Shiny black metal covering a personoid shape. An Extrat. That cocky, arrogant grin—
An Extrat wearing my father’s face.
I couldn’t even scream as its claws slammed into me, gutting me again and again and—
Lavender faded from my vision.
The room before me blurred, but it wasn’t the same type of fuzzy blurring when I stepped too close to an object. It blurred as though the edges of reality weren’t straight.
I was on the bed. My leg splayed and rigid as though splinted. My hands were fists pressed against the wall. Jupe lay on the floor, arms curled around his head. Tears flowed over his cheeks and his mouth twisted in a silent scream.
“Jupe!” My voice caught as though I, too, had been screaming. My body was too sore to roll off the bed to him. I still tasted terror on my tongue. All my bravado from earlier had simply been erased.
“You’re awake.” The voice was as ragged as mine.
I twisted just enough to see Brody next to me, his head against the wall. A bloody streak smeared behind him, as though he’d slammed his head. He gave me the same comforting smile as he did when Breaker and I had a fight. He was always so stupid intuitive. Always knew when my world had been rattled.
This, this is the Brody I know.
“Brody—”
“It’s okay, Tahnya. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay, I wanted to scream. It’s not okay and I can’t escape and I’m trapped again and—Instead I croaked, “How long?”
Brody rubbed his mangled hand on my shin. “Dunno. It’s gone off three times already.”
“Three?” One time was too many. But three? Had I been in the same dream every time?
Jupe groaned. He rolled over, half spitting, half drooling. Lavender faded from his eyes as he sat up. He looked like he’d been run over by a bot. He stared blankly at the ground before looking at us. “Everyone all right?”
“It’s not real,” I said. Mostly to convince myself.
Brody shuddered. “Feels real.”
I should ask him what he saw. I should ask but my mind still spun and my thoughts still slugged and I was afraid that if I turned my head to the shadows my father’s face would be leering at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, a figure did step forward through the transcenGel. My body spasmed as the memory of pain hit—figure, father, claws, stomach, pain—but the figure wasn’t wearing Extrat black, but white.
The Queen.
She wore another dress, all twists and ropes and knots like the hair piled on her head. Jewelry studded her ears, her neck, her arms. She was stunning. So radiant compared to the darkness in my head.
In that moment I realized the digiScreen still played. The newsfeed was the same as before with the rolling THE HERO OF SALVADE text on repeat.
“I can make it stop,” she said through pursed lips. “No more nightmares. No more pain.”
I almost snorted. “In exchange for?”
“For Jupiter’s cooperation.”
My gaze flicked to his. Jupe still lay on his back, gasping at the ceiling. My thoughts cleared a bit. I’d seen my father play this game before. The asking price was always far too high. I can unlock the door, Tahnya. All you have to do is be a good little girl.
“No,” I said. “No. He won’t.”
The Queen’s lip curled. “I am not asking you. I am asking him.”
Jupe’s gaze flicked to mine, to Brody’s. He watched as I grit my teeth and shook my head. He watched Brody flare into an indignant rage.
My thoughts connected even more. The gas’s effects wearing off.
You’ve already embraced being Elik. Now, embrace what they’ve given you. You can save them.
And if I killed everyone in the process? Or if it made everything worse?
I don’t want this power.
I’d find another way.
“No,” Jupe breathed.
The Queen beamed. “I hoped you would say that.” As though on cue, lavender gas hissed from the vent. “I should let you know. I have had a few die while under the gas. And if it does not kill you, too much exposure can leave permanent damage.”
No. No—
Brody’s hand was a vice around my foot.
I saw Jupe’s exp
ression—sorrow and guilt—as the lavender stole him away and swept us all back into our nightmares.
Chapter 20
LUKA
The pain hit like a lightning bolt. Severe, penetrating, then over with a lingering wake. I tucked myself into Yana’s bunk, one of the cave-like alcoves in the core. It wasn’t much, but the curved walls let her hang a blanket for privacy. It had been a wedding gift from our mother, now pocketed with almost sheer patches. My temple pressed against the cool stone wall. If I pressed a finger to my vein, I could feel the throbbing pulse with each heartbeat.
Breaker poked his head around the hand-woven blanket. He cleared his throat, giving me time to gather my dignity. “We’re ready.”
I shifted away from the wall, the pain a lump of stone in my brain. If I moved too much, it slid from side to side, taking my thoughts with it.
“Luka?”
A long min passed, another worried look, then I gathered myself together. Tore my awareness from the lingering weight. Put myself into survival state. If I were on the ship, I would’ve snapped at anybody coming in a thirty-meter range. Here, I couldn’t without damaging my rep. If I were on the ship, I would’ve raided the med bay. Here, I didn’t dare risk what supplies Cal had left for a common migraine. If I were on the ship, I would’ve let Malani or Breaker or, piece of hell, even Jupe or Tahnya take charge while I slept for dias. Here, well, here there was only me.
“Ready,” I said.
I stood, wobbling. Then moved with deliberate steps out of the alcove and into the core.
The makeshift war council waited for me, where anybody could join and not fear being shut out. Now that we had reinforced the weaker spots of the tunnels, everyone had gathered in the core and was at least within hearing distance. There were about fifty crowded close in a sitting circle. The rest of the survivors were spread throughout the core.
Maybe holding a strategy meeting in the open wasn’t normally the smartest course, it allowed for too many pitfalls. More dissonance. Power takeovers. Even a riot. But knowing and seeing a plan being made was just as important as having one. Right now, we could use that extra bolster of morale.
