Sea of Stars (The Kricket Series Book 2)

by Amy A. Bartol

  Blood is roaring in my veins. He comes and stands right in front of me. From my pocket, I pull out the harbinger. As I point the weapon at him, I’m surprised that my hand isn’t trembling. “Take me to the detention area,” I order him. “Now!”

  He glances at the harbinger in my hand for a second, and then he meets my gaze. Before I can react, his hand closes over my heavy weapon, pulling it out of my grasp. His other enormous hand wraps around my neck. He twists me around so that my back slams hard against the front of his black hovercar. Holding the harbinger he confiscated from me to my forehead, he says through clenched teeth, “Give me a reason not to kill you.”

  I wheeze and cough, all the air inside me knocked out. “Baw-da-baw,” I manage to say as he squeezes my throat so hard that tears come to my eyes. Immediately, his grip on my throat eases. I cough more and gasp for air.

  Thump. I turn my head as an Alameeda missile hits the Ship of Skye in the distance, sending out a rolling wave of fireworks. The shock of the blast causes the tunnel in front of us to shudder and then collapse. Rock dust spews outward, shadowing the destruction. It cuts off the flow of traffic, making it impossible to move in the direction the hovercars were traveling. Had the hovercar I stopped kept going, everyone inside would be dead now, crushed beneath the weight of the tunnel ceiling. A fast-moving vehicle behind us isn’t able to stop in time. It crashes into the caved-in debris and explodes into an inferno. More hovercars follow it into death.

  “It’s the Alameeda,” I say, when the soldier with his hand to my neck looks down at me, “they’re attacking.”

  With a grim expression, the Cavar tightens his grip once more. “Really? I hadn’t noticed the triple nitronium fritzwinter sonicdrites hitting the ship! ” he growls. “Who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Cavars are trapped in the detention center—Trey Allairis, Jax Roule, Wayra Waters—they’re locked in cells, guarded by Brigadets. If we don’t get them out, they’re dead.”

  He lets go of my neck and sweeps the cowl of the red overcoat off my head. My wet hair falls in waves onto the hovercar’s shiny black veneer. “You’re the Alameeda priestess—Kricket Hollowell—the one Wayra has been guarding,” he states.

  “You know Wayra?”

  “The wacker owes me money!” he says.

  “It’s going to be tough to collect; the Brigadets have him incarcerated in the detention area. He’s likely to die in there with the Alameeda attacking.”

  “You’re Alameeda,” he says with renewed hostility, pressing the barrel of the harbinger harder against my forehead. I wince.

  “Yes. You got me. You should take me back to the detention center where I belong,” I suggest.

  “Maybe I should just kill you as a traitor,” he counters with a malicious sneer on his lips.

  “Kesek Alez,” a voice behind him says, addressing his superior as the rank of major, “she may not be a traitor. Look at this!”

  “Report, Cyphon,” Kesek Alez growls. He pulls me off the hood, twisting me around so that my back is to him. One of his hands holds my neck while the other presses the harbinger to my temple.

  In front of me, two armed combat-uniformed Cavars have their weapons drawn on me. The other two Cavars on the transport I stopped have exited the vehicle and are now trying to stop the traffic from plowing into the death trap ahead of them.

  The one who spoke holsters his weapon, saying, “HQ is running this on a loop.” The one I take to be Cyphon holds his arm out in front of us. From the watchlike band on his wrist, a mini-hologram projects a surveillance camera view of me appearing out of thin air in the commissary. The image of me then points to the middle of the room—the Brigadet I was near soon fires on the spot, and then moments later, the Alameeda soldier falls out of the circle.

  The soldier with the wrist hologram looks at his commanding officer. “It looks like she was trying to help the Brigadets.”

  Kesek Alez turns me loose. I step a few feet from him and pivot to face him. He frowns at his subordinate. “I don’t give a fat shickle, Cyphon, if she was trying to help the Brigadets. Right now she’s impeding us.”

  I interrupt them. “I just saved your lives from that.” I point to the debris in the road. “I need transport to the detention area. Gennet Trey Allairis is being detained by Brigadets,” I lie. “They claim to be the authority here. Defense Minister Vallen would never have allowed that. He would’ve appointed Cavars to be in charge of Rafe’s defenses.” Honestly, I have no idea what Defense Minister Vallen would or wouldn’t have done in this situation.

  “They’re calling Gennet Trey a traitor too,” Kesek Alez says with an arrogant sneer. “And he has escaped from the detention center. There are bulletins alerting us to the fact that he’s armed and extremely dangerous.”

  “Sir,” Cyphon interjects, “I served under Gennet Allairis when he was Kesek. I’ll never believe anyone who tells me he’s a traitor.”

  I latch on to Cyphon’s bit of support. “If you don’t give them the benefit of the doubt, all the detained Cavars in those cells will die if this ship goes down. Let them fight for their lives against the Alameeda. You can figure out their guilt or innocence after we survive.”

  “If they’re traitors and I let them out, they can destroy this ship!” Kesek Alez shoves his finger in my face.

  “Take me there—talk to Wayra—you know he’s not a traitor—if you know him at all, then you know that.”

  Kesek Alez thinks for a moment, seeming to be swayed for a moment by my argument. Touching a spot on the collar of his combat armor, he activates a communicator. He speaks into it, “Command: we’ve intercepted a fugitive in the area of Griffin Flow and Hurst Haven.”

  “Identify fugitive,” a fem-bot voice pipes in from the console within the vehicle near us as well as the earpiece that Kesek Alez has.

  “Kricket Hollowell,” he states.

  There is hardly any pause at all before he gets a response. “Remain where you are—sending fugitive transport to secure prisoner,” the feminine voice coos through the speaker.

  “You knob knocker! You can’t give me to them! Why won’t you help us? You’re a Cavar!” I scream at Kesek Alez in frustration.

  He gestures toward the hovercar they vacated with a nod of his head. “Put her in the back until they get here,” he orders Cyphon.

  Cyphon grasps me firmly by the elbow, pulling me toward the hovercar. “C’mon,” he says, not without sympathy, “it’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that!” I sneer at him. “I wish you’d help me!”

  He presses his hand to the back of my head, making sure I don’t bump it as he directs me into the backseat of the vehicle. Once inside, he makes me scoot over so that he can sit next to me while we wait for the fugitive transport to arrive.

  Kesek Alez turns his eyes on his men. “After we get rid of her, we’ll find an alternate route to station . . .”

  Whatever else Kesek Alez says doesn’t register with me. I have the worst feeling: as if I’m entering an ice storm. I exhale a breath; it curls up in front of me like wintry air. The future, I think, wanting to stave off any notion of it while at the same time ready to embrace it if it helps me out of this. I lean back against the seat, staring straight ahead of me at nothing at all—until a different movie of my life begins to play out . . .

  The Cavars are pacing back and forth outside the hovercar, anxious for the fugitive transport to arrive. One of them checks and rechecks his gun. He glances at Cyphon in the backseat next to me, “You got an extra D-Cell? Mine’s nearly gone.” He indicates his gun, pointing the barrel away from us.

  Cyphon speaks to him through the open window. “You’re supposed to keep your D-Cell charged, Ancil.”

  With a sullen expression, Ancil replies, “Yeah, I know! I guess I didn’t expect to get ambushed by the Alameeda today.” He looks past Cyphon to me, glow
ering as if I’m responsible for the attack. When his eyes shift back to Cyphon, he asks, “You gonna help me out or not?”

  Cyphon sighs heavily. He rummages around in a soldier’s gear pack at his feet. Locating a rectangular pronged case made of metal, he hands it out the window to the other soldier, who loads it into his gun. The gun makes a humming sound, like it’s powering up.

  Ancil begins to walk away, but Cyphon stops him. With a good-natured smile, Cyphon says, “Hey! Gimme the other one so I can charge it, ya jackwagon.”

  Ancil turns back around, handing him the other D-Cell. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

  “I notice everything,” he retorts with hubris.

  Behind us, I hear a noise that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. I turn my head and, looking through the back window, I watch as an E-One approaches us on the empty side over the divided guideway. The wasplike heli-vehicle flies next to the line of hover vehicles behind us. The forced-air engines raise dust in its wake. The mean, predatory form makes my insides churn.

  Unimpeded by the lack of traffic on the opposite side of the Beezway, the pilot of the E-One has no problem coming abreast of us. The craft lands with a decisive thunk on the guideway. The doors of the black beast open in a graceful sweep as floating steps descend from the interior of the craft.

  With his back to me, Kesek Alez walks toward the E-One to greet them. He waves his arms over his head nonaggressively, signaling to the fugitive apprehension squadron. A lone figure steps out onto the stairs of the E-One, attired in black combat armor. He raises a long-barreled weapon. Pressing a button, several silver darts fly from the gun in rapid-fire succession.

  The first dart embeds in Kesek Alez’s neck. When he pulls it out and looks at it, he drops it in horror. His body immediately swells up like puff pastry. He expands to three times his normal size before he explodes into a red vapor cloud while his blood and entrails paint the tunnel red.

  The other Cavars who are hit by the darts suffer a similar fate. Ancil tries to fire his weapon, but his bloated fingers no longer have dexterity, and then it’s too late; he becomes a Jackson Pollock all over the side of our hovercar.

  Kyon exits the craft, walking down the steps at an unhurried pace with several other Alameeda soldiers. While Kyon moves toward our hovercar, the Alameeda soldiers fan out to protect him, firing their weapons at anyone who looks their way.

  With a strangled cry, Cyphon bursts out of the seat next to me, hitching up his gun as he goes. Kyon lifts his arms and fires one shot, hitting Cyphon in the forehead, exploding his brains out the back of his head.

  I don’t move; I just remain where I am. When Kyon reaches the car, he bends down, extending his hand to me. “Take my hand before I throttle you,” he says. His blue eyes are as threatening as his words . . .

  I blink several times. My breath curls out in icy waves from my mouth. I didn’t leave my body . . . I just saw—

  “You got an extra D-Cell? Mine’s nearly gone.” It’s Ancil; he’s at the window.

  I blink again, tongue-tied.

  “You’re supposed to keep your D-Cell charged, Ancil,” Cyphon replies.

  With a sullen expression, Ancil replies, “Yeah, I know! I guess I didn’t expect to get ambushed by the Alameeda today.” He looks past Cyphon to me, glowering as if I’m responsible for the attack. When his eyes shift back to Cyphon, he asks, “You gonna help me out or not?”

  Cyphon sighs heavily. He rummages around in a soldier’s gear pack at his feet. Locating a rectangular pronged case made of metal, he hands it out the window to the other soldier, who loads it into his gun. The gun makes a sound like its powering up.

  Ancil begins to walk away, I reach out and grasp Cyphon’s wrist. “They’re coming!” My heart is in my throat; fear is a violent thing in my chest, tearing from inside me, desperately trying to get out. I have to gulp to hold down the bile that threatens to spew from my mouth. After a few deep breaths, I turn to Cyphon and say, “Get ready to go. It’s not your command; it’s the Alameeda. They intercepted your kesek’s transmission. They’re coming here and they’ll kill them—” I nod out the window at Kesek Alez and the other Cavars he’s with “—and then you. They’ll force me to go with them—we have to change that!”

  Cyphon stares at me with a blank expression. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

  With my chin I point to his unit. “We’re about to be attacked. They die, but you can live. Things are about to get insane,” I reply with an anxious plea in my voice. “I’m sorry.”

  Cyphon lifts his eyes to his commanding officer, half in confusion and half in denial. The E-One lands across from us. Kesek Alez moves forward to greet them. A lone Alameeda soldier steps out onto the stairs of the E-One, attired in black combat armor. He raises a long-barreled weapon. Pressing a button, he shoots Kesek Alez and several other soldiers with darts. The mayhem that follows mirrors my glimpse of the future.

  Cyphon makes a move to leave the hovercar. I jump on him, locking arms with him. “You can’t help them!” I scream. “They’re dead! You have to save us!”

  “How did you know?”

  “We have to go!” I yell instead. “Drive!” I urge as we both lie across the backseat of the vehicle where I’ve pulled us down.

  Lifting my head up, I peek through the window just in time to see Kyon alight from the interior of the E-One. Turning to Cyphon, I say in a desperate voice, “If you get out, they’ll kill you and take me! You don’t have any options but to drive.”

  Cyphon’s jaw clenches as he scans my face. I nod once, letting him know he has only one choice now. He doesn’t listen to me, though. He yanks his arm from my hands, opening the door to the hovercar. He throws himself out of the vehicle, lifting his riflelike weapon and firing at the Alameeda scattered around the Beezway. In seconds, he’s cut down, falling into the roadway, turning it crimson with his blood.

  I sit frozen in the backseat of the vehicle, unable to move. Shouts and the deafening report of automatic weapon fire coming from the Alameeda soldiers echo from outside the hovercar. My head doesn’t duck. I don’t cringe in fear. I know they’re not shooting at me; they’re massacring everyone in the tunnel.

  There’s a pause in the noise. I turn my head and glance out the door. Kyon is still by the E-One, his handsome blue eyes are on me, watching my reaction to what’s happening. He looks proud of me—proud of the fact that I’m not screaming, or covering my ears, or crying for them to stop. I’m not doing any of those things because I know that they won’t help. No one here will help. No one here will stop him. He’s probably also proud that I don’t look at all surprised by what’s happening—I knew it would happen—I saw it happen. He knows I saw it.

  Kyon takes a step in my direction, but then he stiffens. The door to my right opens and I startle, expecting to see a blond-haired goon looming over me. Instead, the exquisite face that greets my eyes melts my icy heart in an instant. I feel myself go limp against the seat. “Trey!” His name tumbles from my lips. “How did you find me?”

  Trey ducks into the backseat; his long arm reaches past me to close the door, blocking Kyon from me. I inhale Trey’s sultry scent and it’s like a drug running through my veins, creating a poignant ache inside me. The door locks as Trey takes me in his arms for a bone-crushing hug. I endure it, unable to breathe. His deep voice is hushed as he says, “I’ve been monitoring communications. They’ve been airing footage of the Alameeda shootout in the commissary. It showed you slipping into the dishery chute. I escaped and have been hiding out—trying to find where you were being held since they took you from my cell. When I saw the footage, I figured you had to be around the dishery somewhere, so I started this way, hoping I’d find you.”

  Lifting me up, he shoves me over the barrier that divides the hovercar; I fall into the front seat. He climbs over the barrier between us to the front seat next to mine. He doesn’t l
ook at me, concentrating on the vehicle instead, and then he adds, “I overheard the transmission the Cavars issued, reporting that you’d been detained.”

  He presses a few buttons. Seat belts twist up and secure both of us to the vehicle. I look around the compartment. There’s no steering wheel on either side; it’s just a dashboard of lights with readouts on the windscreen.

  “Engine on—engage manual transmission,” Trey orders. The hovercar immediately hums to life and lifts off the ground. The panel on his side of the vehicle opens up, emitting a joystick controller from the interior of the dashboard. Atop the joystick is a round, floating ball. As Trey grips the joystick, his thumb rubs over the top of the roller ball; the vehicle swings in a ninety-degree turn, facing the heli-vehicle and Kyon. “Secure compartment,” he orders the cabin of the vehicle. All the open doors slide closed and lock.

  Kyon has gathered his Alameeda soldiers to him. He holds up his hand, signaling to the pilot behind him to hold his position. Slowly, Kyon raises his weapon at arm’s length, aiming it at Trey. He pulls the trigger, firing a round at Trey’s side of the hovercar. Projectiles pelt the hood and the windscreen of the military-grade vehicle, leaving dents, but they fail to penetrate the interior.

  I grimace. “Why aren’t they firing on us with the E-One?” I ask as he revs the engine and we stare down the missiles and other scary weapons mounted on the outside of the lethal E-One.

  “Kyon doesn’t want to risk killing you. He needs you alive,” Trey replies.

  I know he’s right. Trey squeezes the trigger on the front of the joystick; our hovering vehicle charges forward, accelerating so quickly that I’m plastered to the seat back. Kyon scrambles to get out of our way, as do the other soldiers with him, leaving just the E-One in front of us as we race straight ahead. I cringe, holding my breath. We rumble over the road divider. Right before we hit the E-One, it lifts up from the ground, allowing us to pass beneath it.