Sea of Stars (Kricket #2)

by Amy A. Bartol

  Trey moves his thumb, spinning us onto the open lanes of the wide tunnel. “Project rear trajectory,” he barks. An area of the windscreen darkens to show a watermark image of the area behind our hovercar—a rearview image. Pressing the accelerator, we move faster than I have ever traveled in any type of vehicle on Ethar. I lose my stomach when he spins up onto the wall as we bank into a turn. Light ahead of us shocks me because it also means we’ve run out of road.

  I give a cry of alarm, “No road!” drawing up my legs and bracing one hand against the ceiling and the other against the window, preparing to plunge off the edge.

  “It’s a guide—we don’t need a road,” Trey explains while concentrating on driving. I sag in relief for a second when I realize we’re not going to plunge to our deaths. He glances at me. “This is a troupedo; it drives on air, Kitten. The Beezway makes it faster, it propels at the same time, allowing a vehicle to go twice as fast as normal, but it’s not necessary as a road.”

  Around us in the sky, fighter aircraft of all types are engaging in fierce dogfights. Brilliant sprays of colorful light erupt as the Rafe Dragon ships spew fire into the air, looking for chinks in the Alameeda’s swarm of attackers. The Alameeda have supersonic aircraft, each with a pointed-shaped fuselage in front of a huge, round turbinelike forced-air engine in the back. These ships are able to outrun the Rafe ships with both speed and agility. The Rafe ships, however, have more precise weaponry. By locking onto targets, they’re able to predict where the Alameeda will be.

  “How did you escape?” I ask, before a startled scream rips from me as we’re rammed from behind by the pursuing E-One.

  Trey veers to the left, using the agility of the troupedo to counteract the immense speed of the E-One, keeping it off us. His jaw clenches tight as he whips us around the bend of a cylindrical building. When he puts some space between the E-One and us, he gives me a sidelong look. “I have the Comantre Syndic in the cell next to yours to thank for my escape.”

  “Giffen?” I ask in a high-pitched voice. I’m holding on to the seat with both hands, and I still feel like I’m about to hit the windscreen in front of me.

  He nods, watching the watermark image of the E-One on the windscreen. He points us directly at the fiery blaze billowing up from the base of the Ship of Skye, the result of one of their megaton bombs. Choking smoke pours around us as we fly through the destroyed and smoldering buildings. The E-One is on top of us again, ramming us from behind, making my teeth rattle. Trey slips between two buildings just before one topples into the other. The E-One has to veer up to avoid being crushed.

  Trey’s jaw loosens its rigid line. “Giffen broke through to your cell when he awoke, pulling me through the shattered wall.”

  “With his telekinesis?” I ask.

  He nods in answer. “He demanded to know where you were.”

  “What did you tell him?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “What did he do when you refused to talk?” I look him over; he’s full of scrapes and bruises. He’s wearing a Brigadet’s uniform shirt. I don’t want to know where he got it.

  “I’m not sure. But when I regained consciousness, he was gone and there was a trail of dead Brigadets leading out of the detention center. I tried to free the other Cavars, but I was almost apprehended—I had to escape instead. I’ll have to go back for them.”

  We’re rammed once more by the E-One behind us. The entire vehicle shakes, and it takes a Herculean effort by Trey with both his hands on the joystick to steady the troupedo once more.

  “They’re going to kill us,” I whisper in fear.

  Trey shakes his head. “They can blow us out of the sky whenever they want to, Kricket, but they won’t. Kyon’s obsessed with you. He can’t give you up.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  From behind us, an electro-pulse slams into our hovercar. All the readouts on the windscreen disappear along with the lights and everything else that was propelling the vehicle forward. We begin to free-fall because the vehicle is no longer operational.

  “What just happened?” I whimper at Trey as the hovercar goes into a dive. I brace my hand against the door and ceiling, fear suffocating me.

  “They just killed our power!” He scowls, pressing buttons and trying to get the engine to turn back on. The Ship of Skye’s landscape grows bigger and bigger with every second we plummet. I realize I’m in a coffin looking out as we sink toward the deck.

  The back window of our hovercar explodes. Glass falls around me to the windscreen. Hooks lodge in the backseat, cutting the upholstery and embedding deep in the frame. Our descent is halted; we spin in a dizzying swing, dangling from the bottom of the E-One by grappling cables. As the hovercar pendulums, our image reflects in the glass of one of the buildings. If it were not for the harnesses holding me to the seat back, I’d be kissing the windshield as we face the ground below us.

  We twist on the lines like caught fish. Trey looks around the cabin of the vehicle. “What do you want to risk to get away?” he asks.

  I swallow past the bile corrupting my throat. “Everything,” I reply. “I’ll risk everything to stay with you.”

  “I was hoping you were going to say that,” he breathes. He unhooks his seat belt. Holding the seat back, he leans over and kisses me. My heart contracts painfully in my chest. He grasps my hair, and rests his forehead to mine for just a moment. I want to wrap my arms around him, but he pulls away from me. Reaching behind his seat, he opens a console in the back. He extracts a canister from it the size and shape of a fire extinguisher and hands it to me. When he reaches back again, he retrieves another one from the console behind my seat. “Use that to break your window!” he orders me. I turn the canister around, butting it against the glass until the window shatters. He does the same with his. “Brace your snuffout between the arrowing and the bender,” he says.

  “What?” I ask, giving him a beseeching look. “I don’t know what any of that is!”

  “Here! Do this!” He demonstrates, lodging his canister between two car parts that look like a gill of a fish on the outside of the hovercar where I’d normally find an auxiliary mirror. “Make sure the nozzle is pointed out!” The urgency in his tone prompts me to turn my canister around as fast as I can.

  The hooks holding our hovercar suspended above the ground retract, pulling us upward. The belly of the E-One opens, ready to swallow us up. Trey glances back through the rear window. “They’re pulling us in. We have to go now! When I tell you to, open the nozzle of the snuffout.” He indicates the control jet on the spout of the fire-extinguisher-like thing lodged on the side of the car. “Light the gas with this!” He digs in his pocket, coming out with something that looks like a lighter. He reaches back behind his seat again, finding someone’s gear. Rummaging around in the bag, he locates another lighterlike tool.

  As he straightens in his seat, the lines suspending us in the air continue to retract, drawing us closer to the E-One. A bead of sweat rolls from Trey’s hairline and over the sharp angles of his cheek and jaw. He narrows his eyes in concentration. “On the count of two,” he says, his hand moves to the canister by its nozzle.

  “Wait!” I gasp. “How do you light this?”

  Trey moves his thumb away from the grip on his lighter, revealing a small groove in the side. “Press here,” he says.

  I nod. “Got it,” I exhale, lighting mine for a moment before I let it extinguish. His hand moves to the canister outside his window once more. He waits for me to do the same with the one on my side of the hovercar. “On the count of two,” he says again, and I nod. “One . . .” The hovercar lurches upward closer to our enemy as we swing lazily in midair. “Two!” Trey shouts. I open the control jet; noxious gas spews out of the canisters in a steady stream. Lighting the gas, it erupts into flames that blast us sideways. He grabs my head and pulls me to him, covering me in the center of
the hovercar.

  Our hovercar rockets laterally; its roof crashes into the side of a building. The glass of the skyscape’s window rains around us. The hovercar lands on top of its roof, suspending us upside down in our seats. As the fireballs on either side of the hovercar continue to burn, it spins us around as if we’re on a flaming teacup ride in a traveling carnival.

  The canisters finally run out of gas and the hovercar comes to a reluctant halt. Dizzily, I grasp the belts holding me in place upside down. From somewhere outside the vehicle, a fem-bot voice announces, “All active-duty personnel are ordered to report to assigned combat stations. Code Amber. Enemy infiltration is detected. All noncombat personnel are ordered to seek shelter in your designated areas—follow protocol Code Amber.”

  CHAPTER 7

  OVER THE EDGE

  Trey is already out of his seat, reaching over to hit the release button on my seat belts. He catches me before I fall against the roof, and then he releases me to rest on it. Crawling out the side window, he pulls me with him just as the hovercar lurches backward, scraping across the shattered glass on the floor. The tension of the lines attached to the hovercar slacken for a moment, causing the car to pause. It sits idly, rocking back and forth before the lines attached to it lift upward once more, forcing them taut. Abruptly, the hovercar makes a horrific screeching sound; the metal rooftop drags over the floor as sparks fly everywhere. The vehicle lifts up, careening backward through the smashed window by the twisted lines from the E-One. It dangles outside for a moment before it floats upward and out of our line of sight.

  Trey hurriedly lifts me to my feet. His fierce hug causes my ribs to ache, but I don’t care. I never want him to let go. He kisses my temple, murmuring, “They’re going to realize you aren’t in the vehicle soon and come looking for us. We need to make a decision, Kricket.” He loosens his arms around me. His hand moves to my chin, tipping it up so our eyes meet. His wary look speaks volumes. “We’re both wanted for treason. If we plan to survive, we’ll need to leave the Ship of Skye.”

  “If we do that, what happens to Jax and Wayra?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “They die,” he answers in no uncertain terms. “They’ll never let them out of their cells. If this ship goes down, they go with it. If it doesn’t, they’ll be executed for treason.”

  “I won’t leave without them! I won’t let them die unable to defend themselves!”

  It’s in his eyes: Trey can’t leave them here, either. “I agree. It’s up to us to get them out.” He bends down and kisses me. I’m overwhelmed by the potency of his nearness. My knees weaken.

  He must feel it because he lifts me up in his arms, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder. Carrying me over the shattered glass and debris that litter the floor, he moves in the direction of a bank of overups that lie open not far away. The fem-bot warning continues to sound, “All active-duty personnel . . .”

  Behind us, wind stirs the glass on the floor, causing me to glance over Trey’s shoulder. In the gap in the window, the outline of the E-One throws a long shadow upon us. I stiffen in Trey’s arms, causing him to pause and look behind him as well.

  The static snap of high-intensity electricity sizzles the air near the E-One. Trey turns away from the heli-vehicle and dives with me in his arms. We land behind a concrete pillar; Trey flattens us against it. The crackle of a lightning strike branches out from the E-One with bright, webbed fingers; it glows golden, raising the hair on my neck as it misses our entwined bodies by mere inches. Closing my eyes, my hair whips up around me while the fem-bot voice short-circuits.

  After the shock dissipates, Trey’s mouth brushes my ear as he asks, “Can you run?” I nod. He puts me on my feet. “When I tell you to, run toward the overups.” I nod again. Trey peeks around the pillar for a moment, his strong hand gripping my forearm. “Now, Kricket! Go, go!” He urges me to move toward a grouping of elevatorlike doors ahead of us. Behind us, more windows crash in, shattering as Alameeda troops rappel in with jet packs attached to their backs.

  We near an overup and Trey practically throws me into it. I hit the back of the lift, holding out my hands against the jarring force. It knocks me to my knees. I shift to fall on my hip in a heap, staring back at the overup doors, willing them to close. Through the small opening, I recognize Kyon. Attired in full black combat armor and a dark helmet, his visor hides his blue eyes. I know it’s him though by the shape of his strong jaw—the cut of his elegant cheekbones. When he turns his head toward me, fear makes my legs weak.

  “Kricket!” Kyon yells, coming right at us. One of Kyon’s fellow soldiers accompanies him. They fly forward; smoky trails of white vapor expel behind their jet packs, forming waving kite tails of exhaust. Kyon has his weapon trained on me; he can kill me anytime he likes. Instead, he shifts the barrel of it at the soldier flying in front of him who also has a weapon trained upon me.

  A blue laser dots my chest. My hands come up as I flinch. “Don’t!” I yell at the soldier, his finger squeezing the trigger of his weapon.

  Kyon fires first. A blue laser blast hits the Alameeda soldier in the arm; it shatters his armor, taking a huge chunk out of his bicep. He spirals forward, cutting Kyon off, propelled by his jet pack. His blood paints the cage of the overup as he crashes into the compartment with us. The doors roll closed right before Kyon can enter.

  The overup drops. Trey growls and grasps the Alameeda soldier’s laser weapon, turning it on him. Trey fires before his enemy can lift his other weapon from the holster on his hip. The impact of the blast to his chest sends the soldier crashing into the wall of the overup. With his breastplate and skin melted away, his heart lies open to me before he falls forward facedown onto the floor.

  My arms are dead weights; I stare at his unmoving corpse. Panting and staggering to the panel on the wall, Trey swipes holographic buttons. The overup goes sideways, and then slantways before it falls again in a rapid descent.

  “We need to get his Riker Pak off,” Trey says, indicating the corpse on the floor. I stoop down with him. He lifts a panel to a compartment; inside, several buttons blink and glow. He presses a button on the jet pack, and the harness unlatches and retracts off the dead Alameeda soldier. The pack weighs a ton; we both have to lift it together. Helping him position the heavy pack near his back, he reaches around, pressing a button. Automatically, a harness winds out of the jet pack and secures itself to Trey’s back. He flips a switch in the pack, and it emits a low hum, propelling itself upward so that he no longer has to hold it up.

  “Check and see if he has a pinpointer.” Trey gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.

  “I don’t know what that is,” I say in an apologetic tone.

  “A pinpointer is a homing beacon. The Alameeda can use it to track us. Here, tell me if you see anything blinking.”

  The jet pack has two fuselagelike projections that make up its oblong shape. Two separate video screens with digital readouts flank the sides of the propulsion system. Everywhere lights blink and flash with different colors and shapes.

  All of my fingers spread wide as I jerk my hands. “The whole thing is blinking!” I respond.

  “It’s okay; I found it.” His deep, rumbling voice answers as he turns around to face me, yanking a glowing yellow disk from one of the harness straps. He drops it on the floor, crushing it beneath his black-booted foot.

  The overup shakes as something lands on the ceiling of it. Both our heads snap upward. A red-glowing outline mars the ceiling, turning it aflame. Melting metal drips down to dot the floor, causing me to press to the side of the lift. Kyon’s voice sounds through the ceiling, “Allairis, leave her in this transport now and I’ll let you live.”

  “I need the navigation system,” Trey says calmly, his eyes on the ceiling as he points his weapon in the same direction. “Can you get it for me, Kitten?” He gestures to the helmet on the dead guy’s head. Grimacing, I reach down and
pull the black shell off our enemy’s blond hair. Examining the helmet, I notice blue-font readouts on the interior of the visor.

  Trey plucks the helmet from my hands, squashing it onto his head; it automatically takes the shape of his cranium, negating the need for a chinstrap. He moves to the wall panel once more, waving his fingers over several holographic buttons. The overup comes to an immediate stop. The doors roll open to a parking garage of sorts. Row upon row of hoverbikes, like the ones that Trey used to extract me from the palace, are stored here.

  Kyon’s roar from above has my eyes on the ceiling once more. He’s having a hard time cutting through the thick metal. His frustration is clear as he shouts, “Kricket! If you make me chase you again, I will kill him!”

  The blood drains from my face. My eyes look to Trey.

  “Please come here,” Trey asks, holding his hand out to me.

  I take it and he tugs me to him. Turning me around to face away from him, a blue glowing belt of the jet pack wraps around my waist and shoulders, securing me in front of him.

  In my ear, Trey murmurs, “According to my guidance systems, the detention center is fifty stories below us in the arc of the ship. Are you ready?” He powers up the jet pack on his back. My feet leave the ground as we hover for a moment in the air. “Do you still want to do this?”

  “Yes,” I state without a hint of doubt.

  His whispering voice is soft upon the shell of my ear, “If this doesn’t work out for us, Kricket, know that I’ve loved you from the moment I held you in my arms on Ethar, and every moment in between. I will love you even after my final breath.”

  Warmth travels through my veins until I realize he’s making sure to say good-bye to me. My heart recoils with a savage ache. Lifting my hand, I cup Trey’s cheek, feeling the light stubble on it. As I turn my lips to his ear, I murmur, “Know that if this doesn’t work out, your job is to stay alive until I can bend time and manipulate the future to bring you back to me.”