I puffed out my cheeks. “That’s a big question.”
Tycius leaned back in his seat. “First impressions. Whatever comes to mind.”
I tried to sort through all the reality-warping information I’d been bombarded with since my last night on Earth—the Wasting, the Etherazi, the Lost People, the Merciful Rampart, my missing father.
“The Vulpin that attacked my mom,” I finally settled on. “Do you know what kind of haircut she had?”
My uncle chuckled. “That’s what’s on your mind?”
“If we could figure out what den she was from, we could—”
Tycius cut me off. “I get it. The Consulate looked into the incident at the time and determined the Vulpin was an exile. She didn’t belong to any pack. When the Vulpin are disowned like that, they sometimes turn to mercenary work.”
I frowned, crossing out a lead in my mental notebook. Ty reached over and patted my forearm.
“Listen, Syd, finding Marcius is our top priority, but you should know it isn’t our only priority,” he said. “The Serpo Institute is an opportunity for you. I know it might feel wrong with your father missing, but you should make the most of it. He would want that.”
I thought that over. Basically, my uncle was telling me to chill. On Earth, I’d always had a purpose—run, keep my identity a secret, watch out for the evil government. With all my fake identities and the constant moving, I’d never really learned what it was like to just be Syd Chambers. Kind of nuts that I’d come all the way to the Vastness to do it, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to take advantage of this situation, just like my uncle said.
I wanted to find my dad. But I also wanted to be a good cadet. I wanted to be like an Ossho wisp—floating through space, seeing dope shit.
And one day, maybe I could even be like Reno, bopping around the universe on my own interstellar vessel.
Assuming that I wasn’t back on Earth, beating up regular humans for not recycling. Like my mom wanted.
Pretty soon, the rest of the crew filed in. Melian sat next to me, with Batzian on her other side—once again, Batzian was poring over some assignment on his tablet. The elderly Vanceval creakily lowered himself into a seat next to my uncle. Darcy and Hiram, together as usual, sat next to him. Captain Reno, Zara, and Aela finished the circle. Even though Aela didn’t eat, they still liked to take part in the “group feeding experience.” H’Jossu also didn’t eat and couldn’t fit in at the table, so he rested in a hammock-like contraption at the back of the room, shining a UV light on his mold growths. Arkell was the only crew member who didn’t show up. He never did, preferring to eat his meals alone in his workshop. Reno let this go—nobody missed the chief engineer’s bad energy.
Dinner that night was a spicy mushroom stew that was considered comfort food on Denza. Since joining the Eastwood, I’d pretty much become vegetarian. The Denzans, as a culture, didn’t eat meat, and the food selections on the ship reflected that. The Vulpin were actual carnivores, so Zara was given special meals—skewers of juicy pink flesh that she smugly savored. In truth, though, I didn’t miss Earth food. I felt better than I ever had in my life, although that might have had more to do with my superstrength than with my diet.
Toward the end of the meal, Melian held out her tablet. “Hey, Syd, I made something for you . . .”
“Really?” I asked, grabbing my own tablet and holding it out so that she could beam the information my way. I’d never been allowed a cell phone on Earth, so I was already pretty attached to the paper-thin handheld I was issued upon boarding the Eastwood. I could use it to communicate with my crew and, once classes started for me on Denza, it’s how I would do my homework and research.
“It’s a map of cool spots on Denza for you to check out,” Melian explained as an aerial view of the sprawling Denzan archipelago filled my screen.
I smiled, touching various islands that Melian had highlighted and annotated, little blurbs about diamond rock formations and sensory museums popping up beneath my fingers. “That’s awesome, Mel,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Hey, Batz . . . ian,” Hiram said exaggeratedly. “Are you working on a map for the tourist, too? Maybe of all the best places on Denza to have a nervous breakdown?”
Batzian had spent most of dinner on his tablet, barely touching his meal. He flicked a glance at Hiram. “No. I’m working on a proposal to improve the Eastwood’s efficiency, gaining us speed without compromising gravity.”
Hiram blinked. “Is that extra credit or something? I didn’t think we were supposed to do classwork on board.” He turned to Reno, clearly eager for the captain’s approval. “Got to stay prepared and alert, even on a milk run like this.”
“It’s not classwork,” Batzian replied curtly. “It’s my own project.”
Hiram groaned. “You make the rest of us look bad.”
“You make yourself look bad,” Zara remarked to Hiram. “With your ugly face.”
Hiram stroked his jawline. “Perfect symmetry, furball.”
Reno sighed. “Hiram, clear the dishes, please.”
I’d thought the elderly Vanceval had been napping through the end of dinner, his chin pressed to his chest, but he suddenly leaned forward to look at me. His swooping pouf of hair bobbed back and forth. “Young Sydneycius, have you given any thought to which classes you’ll enroll in once we reach the institute?”
I shook my head. “Figured I would just do whatever the required stuff is to start.”
“Yes, yes, you’ll be entered into math and science courses for your skill level, but that isn’t the fun stuff,” Vanceval replied. “You must also choose a selection of electives. And teach one as well.”
“I have to teach a class?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Of course! All cadets must teach something related to their home culture,” Vanceval explained. “Overall, there are hundreds of classes available at the Serpo Institute, taught by a mixture of expert faculty like myself and your fellow cadets. You are in charge of creating a curriculum that will shape you into a well-rounded explorer of the Vastness, so that one day you might join the crew of an interstellar vessel.”
I looked around. I thought I was already on the crew of an interstellar vessel . . .
“A real ship,” Hiram said, catching my look as he snatched my empty tray. “This is just a training ship. Which is why we don’t do anything cool.”
“I do hope you’ll sign up for my seminar on the Lost People,” Vanceval said. “Your father found it very inspiring.”
That got some looks from some of my crewmates—like Darcy and Melian—who hadn’t really been paying attention. Everyone on board knew that I was a hybrid and that Tycius was my uncle, but I hadn’t been very forthcoming with other details about my backstory. Telling anyone about my missing dad would mean lying to them about the fact that I was out in the Vastness to look for him.
Before anyone could ask any questions, Hiram blundered into the conversation again. For once, I was grateful.
“No offense, proctor, but the Lost People are pretty much a fairy tale for old people,” he said. “You’re going to want to sign up for my judo class, Syd. Darcy and I will whip you into shape.”
“Hmm,” Vanceval murmured. “Some offense taken.”
“I asked you to clean up so you’d stop talking so much, Cadet,” Captain Reno said to Hiram. “Was that not clear?”
“Um, no, ma’am, it was not.”
My uncle tapped my arm. “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, I can help you choose some classes later.”
“Hey, Zara,” H’Jossu said. “Are you going to teach the same class again this semester?”
The Vulpin looked up from dragging her claw across her napkin. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because no one ever signs up for it?” Melian asked timidly.
“And that is my fault how?” Zara responded.
“The institute does pay attention to one’s success as an instructor,” Vanceval said di
plomatically. “It’s a good way to demonstrate leadership and communication skills.”
I was about to ask what mysterious class Zara was teaching—maybe it would give me some inspiration for my own, which I was already drawing an absolute blank on—when Arkell barged into the room, holding some shining object aloft.
“The ship registered an obstruction in one of the biomes,” Arkell announced, his voice scratchy and harsh. “Why do you have this hidden in your room?”
It took me a moment to realize Arkell was talking to me.
And he was holding up an open ring box. My dad’s cosmological tether.
I sensed everyone’s eyes on me. When I hid the box in one of my cabin’s planters, I’d had no idea the ship’s AI would snitch on me. Especially not to the one guy on the Eastwood who I definitely didn’t want knowing about my father. Arkell had ties to an antihuman organization and an arm fully bound in metal because of all the bad shit he’d done. And now he was holding my dad’s ring. My mom had trained me for situations like these where I’d been found out, my cover blown—I was supposed to act quickly and decisively. I wasn’t supposed to think.
Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.
“That’s mine,” I said, shooting to my feet.
“Syd—,” Ty said warningly, but I wasn’t listening.
“Yours?” Arkell snorted. “Impossible. This is—”
I snatched at the ring. Arkell took a sharp step backward and then, with an embarrassing shriek, completely toppled over. As he did, I was able to snatch the ring from between his fingers. To most of the people watching, I’m sure it looked like I pushed him over.
But what really happened—what I noticed as it went down—was Darcy stuck her leg out and tripped him.
“Oh my,” Aela remarked. I heard Zara let out a snort and noticed Batzian shielding his tablet out of the corner of my eye.
“Assault!” Arkell bellowed from his back. “You’ve just assaulted a senior member of the crew, you beast!”
Apparently, Arkell didn’t realize that it was Darcy who’d tripped him—his anger was focused entirely on me. I clutched the ring to my chest.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I—”
“Cadets!” Reno shouted, pounding her fist on the table so hard that I thought it might shatter. “Clear the room!” She snapped her fingers at me. “Not you, Chambers.”
At that moment, Hiram returned from the recycler. “Whoa. What did I miss?”
I’m sure the others would tell him as they quickly fled the scene. Melian flashed me a sympathetic look, and I swear Darcy winked, but the others mostly seemed curious about what they were missing and why the heck the new Earthling was in possession of some important Denzan tech. As they filed out, Arkell remained on his back, sprawled out like a turtle.
“May I stay?” Aela asked in the doorway. “I feel this is an experience worth cataloging for—”
“Out,” Reno said through her teeth.
“For shame, Arkell,” my uncle said coolly, standing at my side. “Get yourself up already.”
Reno moved swiftly around the table and slapped the button that sealed the door to the canteen. Arkell, his dark eyes narrowed, picked himself up with what I felt was exaggerated care—he’d only fallen over; it’s not like I’d decked him or something. Vanceval was completely unruffled by the whole altercation, his eyes half-lidded, hands folded before him.
I was surprised when the first thing Reno did was round on Arkell. “That was an unnecessary brouhaha, Officer.”
“You’re reprimanding me?” Arkell’s lips pressed into a flat line. “A physical assault occurred. My personal space was violated.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” Tycius said.
“Sounds to me like you violated Syd’s space, too,” Reno added, sitting back down. “Going through his room without permission. We don’t do that on my ship.”
Arkell’s hair flattened back across his skull, his teeth grinding. “The boy is in possession of a cosmological tether. I’d like to know where it leads and why he’s seen the need to hide it from us.”
“What makes you think it was hidden from us?” Reno asked. “I’m the captain of this ship, Arkell. You think anything goes on without my knowing?”
“The tether is his inheritance,” Tycius added. “I gave it to him and told him to keep it secret, primarily because of you, Arkell, and your backward beliefs.”
Arkell rubbed the cold metal that encased his one arm. He was taken aback. “My beliefs—my beliefs are not in question here,” he said. “That was a long time ago.”
“Once a specist, always a specist. Don’t you have any shame, Arkell?”
The elderly engineer stiffened, staring coldly at my uncle. Suddenly, I was an afterthought, the two of them totally forgetting about me as what seemed like an old grudge reignited. Aela had mentioned how it wasn’t polite to talk about a Denzan’s shame; my uncle didn’t seem to have any problems stepping over that line when it came to Arkell.
“I carry my shame, Tycius,” Arkell said, tapping his shoulder. “Every day, I try to make amends for what I did.”
“And yet, since he got here, you’ve called Sydney a mutt, a beast, and that’s just what you’ve said loud enough to hear,” Tycius replied. “You’re the same old bomb maker with no respect for what humanity did for us. You’re too demented to be rehabilitated. The Senate should’ve sent you to a mushroom farm in the dark hemisphere.”
Damn, my uncle didn’t pull any punches. I was glad he had my back out here. Ty had also just confirmed the rumor I heard from Darcy and Hiram: that Arkell had basically been a terrorist back in the day. He didn’t look like much now, though. I could tell my uncle’s words had stung him by the way Arkell’s shoulders hunched.
“The arrogance of you to judge me,” Arkell said quietly. “For the last ten years, I’ve been serving at the institute. Training the next generation. Unlocking new worlds and keeping our galaxy safe. And where have you been, Tycius? Vacationing on a backwater on a wild-goose chase?”
“It’s not a wild-goose chase if we find him,” I muttered.
“Gentlemen, I think that’s enough bickering,” Reno announced, turning to me. “Cadet, you need to be careful with your hands. Get me?”
I nodded once, not about to sell out Darcy. “Yes, Captain.”
“The soil in the biomes needs to be turned over every ten days, correct, Arkell?”
“Correct, Captain,” Arkell responded.
“So the cadet will take care of that. A little manual labor as penance for manhandling you. Sound good?”
Arkell didn’t look at me. “I could’ve been gravely injured,” he said flatly.
“But you weren’t,” Reno responded. “I’ve made my decision. Do you want to drag out this humiliating incident further?”
I could tell Arkell was fuming. He stood still for a moment, looking from Reno to Tycius, his hands clenched into fists. Then he turned on his heel and left.
I’d almost forgotten Vanceval was in the room until he tugged on my sleeve.
“The tether,” he said. “Is that . . . is that Marcius?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
The old Denzan’s mouth quivered. “He’s alive?”
I held out the ring so that Vanceval could look at the glowing cosmos. My dad was still sending a signal, still waiting for someone to find him. Vanceval’s eyes glistened.
“You’ve had this . . . ,” Vanceval said. He turned to Reno. “And you knew?”
“Yes, Vance,” the captain said, her cheeks still red from lecturing Arkell.
“Then, with all due respect, Captain . . . ,” Vanceval said. “What the hell are we waiting for?”
16
I held the cosmological tether between my fingers. Ever since Tycius told me the significance of the glowing cosmos inside the jewel, I’d been waiting for it to suddenly wink out. At least now that the ring wasn’t hidden, I could check on my dad whenever I wanted.
“There’s some danger to doing this before you’re ready,” Tycius told me.
“Continuing to delay is its own danger, I would think,” Vanceval added gently.
We’d relocated from the canteen to the Eastwood’s bridge. On the way, I’d noticed H’Jossu and Aela hanging around in the passageway, eager to find out what was going on with me. I flashed them a reassuring smile as Captain Reno and Tycius ushered me forward. I wasn’t in trouble. Arkell, at that point, was basically an afterthought.
I’d come to the Vastness to find my father, and I was going to do that. Right now.
I sat in the Wayscope—well, on the edge of the seat—the complicated goggles and their rigging dormant above me. Vanceval shuffled around the machine, flicking switches and peering at readings. I felt the processors hum beneath me. The old Denzan had been animated and excited since the moment he saw my dad’s cosmological tether. My uncle was a bit more circumspect about this sudden plan. Reno, too, was surprisingly quiet, watching Vanceval prepare the Wayscope for use.
I hadn’t said much of anything, instead letting the momentum sweep me along.
“Syd?” Tycius asked. “What are you thinking?”
I looked up from the tether and met my uncle’s eyes. “We don’t know what’s happened to him. He’s already been stranded out there so long. Any day, he could . . .”
I didn’t need to finish that sentence. I thought about my mom—how she’d spent so long missing my dad, how she’d assumed he was dead. And now we could find him if we wanted, just by hooking me up to this big Denzan machine that I didn’t entirely understand. We were so close. I’d never forgive myself if the light in the tether blinked out before I got the chance to find him.
Ashfall Legacy Page 14
