by S. J. Bryant
Her communicator buzzed.
Wren's gaze snapped to it. Guildmaster Silvan.
Wren's stomach lurched and her knife fell just to the left of her waiting hand, cutting the tip of her index finger as it went past.
A bright red bead of blood bloomed to the surface and glinted in the overhead light before it dripped to the floor, spinning and wobbling until it hit the metal and splattered out.
Wren swallowed, throat dry, and lifted her communicator. She didn't dare answer it. The Guild had to think she was dead; it was the only way she had any chance of living.
It seemed like an eternity before the communicator stopping ringing. A few moments later the message tone pinged.
Wren opened the message. If she'd been some two-bit criminal, the Guild would have been able to track her activity and know that she was alive. But she wasn't, and she'd encrypted her device's activity to such a degree that it would take the Guild's best people at least a year to figure out that she was still reading messages.
Guildmaster Silvan's face appeared. Her thin lips pressed together and her cold eyes like pieces of metal shone from the screen. "Wren. You've missed the last two check-ins. Please respond. Code Albion." The screen went black.
Wren drew a ragged breath. What was Guildmaster Silvan thinking? Did she truly believe Wren might be dead? Or captured? Or did she suspect the truth? That Wren had broken the most sacred vow and turned her back on the Guild. It was an easy enough conclusion to come to once they figured out that she'd been flying around with her supposed target for years.
The communicator buzzed again.
Wren frowned down at the frozen face of a woman, about the same age as Wren. She had more scars than the last time Wren had seen her, but there was no mistaking the sharp eyes, as dark as space. "Palitia," Wren whispered. Her finger quaked as she activated the message.
"Wren!" Palitia said. A broad smile split her face, making the scars on her cheeks squish up near her eyes. "Oh my God, how long has it been? Where are you working these days? Would you believe they've sent me to Semiramis? We should catch up! Message me as soon as you get this." Palitia waved at the screen and then it went black.
Wren tossed the communicator to the bed and held her head in her hands. How long had it been since she'd spoken to Palitia? Years at least. They'd never been friends growing up in the Guild, you couldn't have friends because the chances were good you'd have to kill them at some point, or at least badly injure them. After all, most children raised by the Guild didn't make it out the other side.
It didn't take a genius to figure out why Palitia was reaching out now. She'd always had about as much subtlety as a neutron star. It was a wonder she'd made it through the Guild at all. But then, Wren knew as well as anyone that sometimes a cutthroat mentality could get you just as far as wit and cunning. So… Palitia had been assigned to kill Wren. Which meant the Guild didn't think she was dead. They might not know for sure though… but how long would it take for them to find out? All they'd need was some footage from the shipping yard to show Wren leaving with Kari.
Dammit! She'd tried to be careful, but she'd been so confused. She'd turned her back on her very code… what if this was punishment? What if this was the world's way of showing her that she'd chosen wrong?
But no. She couldn't think that, couldn't possibly give in to the thoughts or she'd drown herself in despair and then probably kill them all.
The communicator beeped again.
Another familiar face. This one slightly older than Wren, but just as familiar as Palitia. Gracie.
"Wren," she said, and then glanced to the side. "Wren, I can't talk long. I'm not sure who's listening. There's something going on. I heard a rumor that you'd…" Gracie stared into the screen with her pale blue eyes, like chips of ice, and seemed to look into Wren's very soul. "Wren, they've sent people for you. I know Palitia for sure, but I don't know who else. You have to be careful. I'm sure the rumors aren't true. You've probably just got into some trouble. Call me, I'll be able to explain it all to Guildmaster Silvan. She listens to me." Gracie smiled. "Not like the old days, aye?"
The message ended and Wren stared at the blank screen, heart twisting. Why did it have to be Gracie? The one person in the whole Guild that she'd liked as something more than a potentially treacherous ally.
But perhaps Gracie was telling the truth, perhaps she really did want to help Wren. She might even understand if Wren told her the truth…
Wren's thumb hovered over the redial button. More than anything she needed someone who understood, and Gracie had always been that person when Wren was younger. But Wren forced herself to stop, just half an inch short of the button. Gracie was known for infiltration. Where Palitia was like a blunt instrument that could break through anything with enough thuds, Gracie had always been like a finely-honed homing missile. She could twist and turn through any obstacle, trick even the most observant person, and be welcomed with open arms into her target's inner sanctum. Even as she buried her knife into a target's chest, they'd be wondering what had happened. Gracie had achieved levels of deception that Wren could only dream of.
Wren's hand clenched around the communicator, threatening to crush it. Another lie. Gracie's reason for calling was the same as Palitia's… she was just much better at her job. Wren would be signing her own death warrant if she tried to contact any of them. Unlike Wren, they kept to the code, and the code said she had to die.
Wren flicked off the power on her communicator and tossed it to her bed. No one that she wanted to hear from would try to call her and it was better for her own mental health that she didn't see their messages. No doubt Gracie and Palitia were just the first of a flood. By the time tomorrow came, Wren's communicator would be overflowing with messages, and she couldn't bear that. Couldn't bear to know just how many people would gladly see her dead.
And yet, how could she blame them? Two weeks ago, she would have done exactly the same thing.
Did that make her a traitor? All those others stuck to their oaths, while she'd turned her back. She deserved to die. Didn't all oath breakers deserve that? She'd thought so… right up until this week. Now she couldn't be sure.
And dammit! Being alone with her thoughts wasn't helping. She'd thought peace and quiet would be good but now she found the silence of the room pressing in on her, as if the walls and ceiling were too tight. She wanted to get out, but where? The ship wasn't much bigger and beyond that was only space. A tempting prospect…
No! She would keep the oath to survive at all costs. But damn, the thoughts were driving her mad.
Wren ripped open a zip at her belt and took out a pinch of brown powder. She closed her eyes and placed it on her tongue. The bitter taste zipped through her mouth and even up into her nostrils, but she forced herself to swallow.
Numbness followed, trailing down her throat and then into her head, like the soft tendrils of an octopus reaching around her skull. She let the cold take her, falling into unconsciousness as if into a vast ocean.
She'd never resorted to self-medication before. But if the alternative was madness…
Well… so be it.
CHAPTER 5
Kari jabbed the controls and glared through the front window. Half their katium wasted and a traitor on board. Just what she needed.
Sweat itched the back of her neck. What if she hadn't seen the leak? What if the damage had been worse? She tried not to think about it, but the thoughts kept creeping back into her head like insidious weeds.
Who the hell had tried to ruin their journey? And why?
Logic said it had to be either Taylor or Aydin. But Kari couldn't bring herself to trust anyone. Not after what had happened with Wren on Ryevo.
She shoved the thrusters forward. The engine rumbled, burbled, and the ship shot ahead, holding Kari against her seat. She could have warned the others that they were about to jump but a part of her relished the idea that the traitor—whoever it was—might have been knocked around their cabin by the
sudden movement. She couldn't bring herself to care much about the others. Except Piper.
But even then…
Kari stood, rubbing her temples. She wanted to let Piper out of her room, but if she did that then she'd have to let Ryker out, then where did it stop? She couldn't make exceptions for all of them, which meant exceptions for none of them.
Oh well, Piper had seemed happy enough to stay cooped up in her room lately anyway. Kari had no idea what was wrong with her, and right now didn't have the time or energy to find out.
There had to be some shred of evidence that would tell her who the traitor was. Perhaps a scrap of footage before they disabled the cameras, or a fingerprint… something.
Kari frowned and tilted her head. Voices in the hallway.
She pulled her gun from her belt and jogged out of the pilot's pod, past the engine, slowing when she neared the dining room.
The voices got louder, emanating from just around the corner.
Someone had ignored her order.
She rested a finger on the trigger and listened.
"Yeah, I'll make sure we get there as soon as possible."
Kari recognized the rough gravel of Aydin's voice.
"Just a minor inconvenience. Don't worry about it."
Kari tightened her grip, leveled the gun, and stepped around the corner.
Aydin froze, communicator held near his mouth.
"Disconnect," Kari said, her voice low. She didn't want to alert anyone inside the sleeping quarters. If one of them came out and got in the way of her shot… she might never forgive herself.
"I've got to go," Aydin said, lowering his hand and swiping his finger across the communicator, disconnecting.
Kari kept her gun pointed at his chest. "Who was that?"
"The boss. Get your gun out of my face."
"What are you doing here?"
"Trying to make a call."
"I told you not to leave your compartment."
"I was getting interference in my damn quarters," Aydin sneered. "Besides, I'm your passenger, remember? That means I'm supposed to be the one giving orders."
"Not when you damage my ship."
"Put the gun down, or you'll regret it."
Kari's muscles tensed. A part of her wanted him to come at her. At least then she could shoot and be done with the whole thing. Better than spacing a man…
"I said, put it down," Aydin said.
"What was the call about?"
"Checking up. Saw that we were delayed."
Kari didn't believe him for a second. "You won't mind me talking to him then?" She pointed to his communicator with her gun.
Aydin took a step back and turned so that the communicator was partially hidden behind his body. "Boss doesn't like to talk."
"Seeing as I'm the one carting his cargo," Kari said. "It only seems fair."
"He doesn't like to talk." Aydin's expression didn't change. He stared at her with cold, flinty eyes, unmoving.
"I should space you."
"For making a call?"
"For leaving your damn quarters!" Kari said, caught between wanting to yell and having to keep quiet so as not to alert the others.
"I guess I'll be heading back then." Aydin turned, putting his shoulder blades in direct line with her gun, and stalked back to his room. The door hissed open. He stopped just in front and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Would you really space a person?"
Kari tried not to let her thoughts show. Would she space a person? Wasn't that the ultimate question? Could she open an airlock and hurl someone into the blackness of space? Knowing they'd suffocate and die utterly alone?
She'd never thought about it much before. Never had a reason. But now… what else did you do with a traitor and a saboteur?
"Hmm," Aydin said. "I didn't think so. Not many can."
He stepped inside and his door shut, blocking Kari's view.
A sudden breath exploded from her lungs and her hands dropped to her sides. What the hell had just happened? She was the one that had caught Aydin under suspicious circumstances. So why did it feel as though she'd done the wrong thing?
She shoved her gun into the holster and glared at the wall with the peeling yellow paint.
The traitor had to be Aydin… had to be. He'd acted suspiciously since he first got on board. But what could Kari do about it?
She turned and stomped to the pilot's pod. A plan formed in her mind, one she wished she'd thought of hours ago.
She navigated through the computer system to the permission screen and locked down Aydin's door. He wouldn't be able to leave his room unless she let him out. That would keep him under check. He could stay there and rot until they reached Ferion for all she cared.
And he better hope that Taylor had more trust and patience than Kari did, because otherwise Aydin would be going hungry. There was no way she'd bring him food. She didn't feed traitors. That was a simple life motto to live by.
Her finger hovered over the buttons for the other cells. In her head she knew it was the right move. If no one could move around, then nothing could go wrong. But then… if she was so sure Aydin was the traitor, so sure that she'd even consider spacing him, why did she need to keep the others captive?
In the end she settled for an uncomfortable compromise; she didn't lock the others in, but she also didn't tell them they could come out.
Better for everyone that they each kept their own company until they got to Ferion and Kari could try to sort this damn mess out.
She'd just wanted a decent paying job. But, of course… it had come to this. Always another lie. And she'd lost her katium reserves. Which barely made the job break even anyway.
Perhaps she'd get a bounty for handing Aydin over. Surely his boss—whoever that might be—would be interested in hearing about sabotage? And whatever happened to Aydin after that… well, it was none of Kari's business.
CHAPTER 6
Atticus fidgeted on his narrow bed and stared up at the darkness of the ship's ceiling. A red light blinked near the door, the oxygen monitor. The engines rumbled through the ship and vibrated Atticus' bed. On any other night he would have found the gentle movement soothing and allowed it to rock him to sleep. He'd spent more of his life on board ships than he had on solid ground and the engine's growl normally soothed his hurried thoughts. Not tonight. Tonight the vibrations kept him awake and he started at every small noise or change in pitch, expecting the FTL drive to stop and fling them out of hyperspeed.
His thoughts swirled as he imagined Rusty creeping through the ship. Perhaps the robot had only been pretending to drink all that coolant. Perhaps he had other plans, intended to kill the crew. But for what purpose? Atticus couldn't think of one, but then if everything Rusty had said to now had been a lie, then Atticus knew nothing about him. He could be a fighter for the robot resistance for all Atticus knew. Although what good he'd been doing for all these years drinking on Kari's ship, he had no idea.
But if it wasn't Rusty, then that only left Taylor and Aydin. Atticus didn't agree with Ryker, didn't think that Wren was behind it. He'd seen enough of Wren now to know that she had a style. If she'd decided to take another hit on one of them, then they'd already be dead. She would have crept into their rooms and slit their throats with that sharp knife of hers.
It had to be Aydin.
Atticus hadn't trusted the hard-faced man from the start. Then there was the incident with him threatening to kill Ryker, and now this…
Aydin wore a gun at all times and his muscles bulged out of the tight-fitting shirts he wore. If he decided to take the ship, he might stand a chance. Especially if he took Wren and Ryker by surprise.
Atticus shivered. He could imagine a dozen motives for Aydin to steal the ship. The money from selling it alone would be enough for most mercenaries.
But what could Atticus do about it? Especially now that Kari had decided to lock them all up. What was she thinking?
Atticus did his best not to feel offended that Kari
still didn't trust him, even after everything they'd been through, but it was hard not to take it to heart. Still… surely she had her reasons.
He rolled over and stared at the wall beside his bed. He didn't like to imagine Aydin creeping through the ship, cutting the hose to the katium drive. Atticus didn't like to imagine anyone doing underhanded deeds. He wasn't stupid enough to think they didn't happen, he just preferred not to think about it.
A slight rustle sounded at Atticus' door.
He spun but his leg got caught in the sheet.
A shadow separated from the rest of the darkness and darted to Atticus' side.
He tried to call out but before he made more than a strangled huff, a hard hand snapped over his mouth and ground his lips against his teeth.
Atticus snatched for the hand and tried to tear it away from his face, but his attacker was too strong and a second hand wrapped around his neck, choking him.
He tried to breathe but only a thin trickle of air made it past his constricted throat. He kicked and thrashed. The sheet tangled tighter around his leg, as though he were being attacked from both ends.
Atticus lashed out but his fists fell short of his assailant and the darkness became deeper as bright lights filled his vision. He strained to cling to consciousness, but his oxygen-starved lungs burned and the strength drained from his arms so that they flopped limp to the mattress.
One last kick and he lost consciousness.
***
Wren heard movement at her door. Her eyes popped open and she snatched for her knife, meaning to roll out of bed and fall into a ready crouch. But her muscles wouldn't obey. Her arms moved, sluggish, as she fumbled with the handle of her knife, struggling to pull it from its sheath.
The drugs.
She'd medicated herself to fall asleep and now…
A shadow moved across her room and her heart quickened. Was it Ryker playing some joke? Or someone… else.
