by Dan Krokos
Mason understood. The planets would be destroyed, but there would be millions of survivors in space. Helpless, with nowhere to go.
The Usurper slapped the chains back onto his chest. “Your bravery pleases me, and your victory against us today was impressive. I will allow your friends to leave. But you must stay.”
Mason fought the urge to tremble. The gloves loaned their strength; Mason could feel them infusing him with power.
“Why do you want me to stay?”
The Usurper hesitated, and Mason wondered if what he said next was going to be a lie. “We want your gloves. And they cannot be taken. They must be given willingly. In time, you will give them to us.”
The same way Aramore’s avatar gave them to me …
“And if I say no?” he said.
“You won’t. We have taken precautions against your power. If you resist, you and your friends will surely die. The gas you inhaled is a poison. In less than one hour, it will feel as if your blood is boiling.”
It seemed like Mason had to make a choice, but that was an illusion. There was no choice here.
“Is … my father … he was turned into a Fangborn many years ago. Is he here?”
“No, not here. But if you stay, I will bring you to him.” The king grinned, showing his razor teeth. “He has been waiting for your return to this planet. Perhaps … we can make another deal. The gloves for your father.”
He’s alive! Mason thought. He could feel the cure vials inside his robes—the Fangborn hadn’t found them. Maybe I should use one on the king and see what happens. But Mason didn’t want to take the risk, not with the lives of his friends on the line.
“I’ll stay, but you have to let Tom go, too. That’s why we came here. Take it or leave it.”
The Usurper was very still for a moment, and then he nodded at the two Fangborn standing guard by the door. The guards disappeared through the door, then came back a moment later with Tom bound at the wrists and ankles with heavy chains.
He was still human.
“Mason! What are you doing here?” Tom said.
“Rescuing you, of course.”
Tom looked at the Usurper, then at Mason and back again. “What—how—why aren’t you guys fighting?”
“We made a deal,” Mason replied. A deal that made his stomach feel slippery, like it might drop through his other organs and sink down his leg. But it was a deal, and his friends would live to fight another day.
If I’m smart, I’ll learn more about the Fangborn and find my dad, too. Susan would understand, and so would his mother. They both would have made the same call. Merrin would have, too. Merrin … they had just been reunited.
Mason faced the king again. “I want to take my friends to the shuttle myself.”
The Usurper was breathing so deeply his muscular shoulders rose and fell with each breath.
“If you betray us, your shuttle will never leave the atmosphere.”
It had crossed Mason’s mind to try to get on the shuttle at the last minute, but the Fangborn hadn’t lived for millions of years by letting their prey escape accidentally. There was something human about the Usurper’s eyes, which were a piercing blue. It reminded Mason of the Egypt’s engine—oh, how he missed that ship. What he wouldn’t give to be back on it with his crew. Both crews, Tremist and human.
“Wait,” Tom said, “what’s going on? Tell me what the deal was. Mason! Tell me about the deal!” Tom shrugged the Fangborn’s claws off his shoulders—no easy feat. He walked toward Mason as fast as he could with his ankles bound together. The Fangborn caught him after three steps. “Let go of me! Mason, what did you do? TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!”
Mason’s face hurt from trying to stay placid. To see Tom this upset was harder than the actual staying-behind-on-an-alien-planet part. “Please, Tom,” he said. “This is hard enough.”
Tom fell silent, suddenly much paler.
More Fangborn came through the doors, each escorting one of Mason’s friends, who were bound just like Tom was. They were all excited to see Mason at first, and then confused as to why he was standing next to the Fangborn leader.
Jeremy lifted his chained wrists. “What’s the deal?” Stellan elbowed him in the side.
“Remember my words, boy,” the Usurper said, handing Mason a leathery pouch. “Have them drink what’s inside.” He slinked away, bringing a group of the guards with him.
“What’s happening?” Merrin said.
Mason gave Tom a sharp look when Merrin wasn’t watching—Don’t say a word. Tom didn’t. He seemed ready to pass out, shell-shocked.
“No talking,” Mason said. “I’ve cut a deal that will get us out of here, but we’re not allowed to talk.” He didn’t want to keep lying to them.
They left the city with a group of twelve Fangborn following at a distance. Outside, the storm had grown angrier: the shuttle was barely visible through the gray haze of rain that flew in from all directions. It stung Mason’s cheeks, and the wind felt as if it were going to rip his hair out by the roots.
“I don’t understand!” Merrin said. “It must be a trap—they’re not just going to let us go!”
“I said I made a deal!” Mason shouted back. “I’ll tell you on the shuttle!”
Mason jogged beside Po. “Do you trust me?”
Po looked at him through the rain. “Yes.”
Mason ask Po for a favor, and Po agreed. The shuttle ramp lowered at their approach. Mason looked over his shoulder at their Fangborn escort: the creatures were huddled together, crouched low in the grass, waiting. The lashing rain didn’t seem to faze them at all.
The team walked up the ramp, Mason being careful to let them go first. For one brief second, Mason considered risking it all, just getting into the shuttle and hoping the Usurper was only a good liar, that they really could escape and go back to school together. Mason wanted to go back so badly he was sick with it, almost feverish. I want to go, he thought. I want to go.
But he decided to stay.
Back home he was a legend, but he hadn’t earned it. Being a legend wasn’t about valor. It wasn’t about great deeds on the battlefield.
It was about sacrifice.
Mason could do that, for the ones he loved.
Merrin was suspicious; she was looking at Mason out of the corner of her eye, and her shoulders were tense. But she wasn’t suspicious enough. As soon as she was inside, Mason hit the button to close the ramp, then dived off the side and rolled in the mud.
Jeremy almost made it off the ramp. Mason caught a glimpse of him running straight for him as the ramp angled upward and became less a floor and more a wall. It shut before he could jump through.
Po stood over Mason and extended a hand. “You’re incredibly brave.”
“Or stupid.”
Po shook his head. “Brave. I’m honored to know you.”
Despite everything that was about to happen, Mason felt a twinge of embarrassment. “The honor is mine,” he said, pressing the leather pouch into Po’s hand. “Have everyone drink what’s inside here immediately. I want you guys to live long enough for a rescue.”
Po nodded. “Consider it done. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Mason could hear pounding on the other side of the shuttle’s door. It was probably Merrin. Then another set of fists was added—Jeremy, judging by how powerful they sounded. Mason was glad he couldn’t see their faces. They would all forgive him one day.
Po pulled Mason into a rib-crushing hug. Then he left without another word, heading for a separate airlock on the other side of the ship.
Mason moved a safe distance from the shuttle, and soon the engines were warming up, their drone rising in pitch, battling with the crashing rain.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice said behind him.
Mason spun around, almost slipping on the muddy grass. He blinked away rainwater and saw the other Reynold, not Kylie, standing ten feet away.
The Reynold ripped off her mask.
It was Susan.
This was too much—she was ruining everything. Mason had a plan, and he was sticking to that plan, and now she was here to mess it all up.
“What are you doing here?” Mason shouted. “Get back on the shuttle!”
“I’m not going anywhere without you, little brother. This is ridiculous. Open the ramp.”
“What don’t you understand? I made a deal with the Fangborn. If I go with you, we all die.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“It’s not something you can control!” Mason knew how to convince her. “They poisoned us, Susan. We’re poisoned. If you don’t drink the cure that Po is carrying on the shuttle right now, you’ll die. And then how will you rescue me?”
She stomped her foot in the mud. “Why do they just want you?”
Mason held up his hands. “They want these. They want the power. I crippled them today with these. Please, Susan, just let me do this one thing. Let me save us.”
Susan stared at him for a very long time. The shuttle was at full power, hovering a foot above the clearing. Steam poured off the back, where the rain pounded the engines.
“I’m not a kid anymore. I am making this choice.” But Mason saw they were too much alike. Susan would never leave him. Just like he would never leave her, not willingly. Susan saved him once before. She had stayed behind, and taken the risk. Now it was Mason’s turn.
Mason raised his hands, palms out. “Get on the ship, Susan.”
“You gonna zap me, little brother?” She took a step closer. “You’re insane if you think that’s going to make me leave.”
Mason knew she was right. So he stepped forward, grabbed her wrist, and delivered a charge that locked up every muscle in her body. Susan stiffened, and Mason caught her before she could fall. He hauled her onto the shuttle and laid her down in the airlock Po had used. It was empty now. Susan was laughing, and then she was crying. “You little … I’m telling Mom.” She tried to rise but was too weak. She lifted one hand, and it wavered, fingers reaching for him. “Don’t…” she said.
“I love you,” Mason said, and then he shut the door.
The shuttle didn’t move for a long minute. Mason wondered what was happening inside. Were they arguing? Relieved? Screaming at each other? Scared? Probably a little bit of everything. Just when he thought the shuttle was going to land again, it took off, rising slowly at first, but then banking away from the mountain, angling toward the heavens.
The green light from the engines faded and was soon gone, but Mason didn’t look away. He stood in the storm and let it thrash him, enjoying the sting on his face and the howl in his ears. His friends would come back for him, of that he had no doubt. But until then, Mason would be strong.
Epilogue
SIXTY-TWO DAYS LATER
The boy worked in the mines day and night. With his gloves, he could melt the rock, shape it the way he wanted, or rather, the way he was instructed. The Fangborn were expanding under the surface of Nori-Blue. They were preparing. For what, the boy didn’t know.
He woke each morning in his rock cell, his hands throbbing with the need to destroy. It scared him, but it was a problem for another day. The gloves had grown further, covering his entire body from neck to feet. Round his neck was a collar. If he turned against his captors, metal bolts would fire into his throat, killing him instantly. The boy had learned patience.
The Usurper had never brought Mason’s father to him, but that was okay. Mason feared their reunion as much as he wanted it. Soon he would work up the courage, just like one day he would work up the courage to take off his armor.
Sixty-two days after he returned to Nori-Blue, the boy was melting out a new section of tunnel. The monsters lurked behind him in the shadows, always watching. He could feel their fear. But the boy had made a deal, and he would stick to it. He knew in his heart that there was more to come. And besides, using the gloves was a fine way to pass the time. Seeing the half-hidden fear in the eyes of the Fangborn around him was even finer.
As he smoothed the roof of the tunnel, he heard a rumble come from above. A deep sound in the stone. Was the tunnel destabilizing? No, Mason knew what he was doing. Pebbles fell around him, vaporizing when they touched the armor that had once been the gloves of Aramore the Uniter. The Fangborn scattered, taking separate vertical tunnels to the surface. The boy was alone for the first time in all those days.
The boy found a vertical tunnel and began to climb toward the surface. It was effortless. He’d grown stronger since coming here, making sure to keep up with his drills, to stay sharp. In the tunnel there was an alcove, one the boy had carved away himself. There he had hidden a cloth. Inside the cloth was a black sphere. The boy slung the heavy sphere onto his back and climbed one-handed, his fingers burning with the effort. It was a good burn. His heart was really pumping now.
At the top he shouldered away the flap of soil and grass, poking his head aboveground for the first time in sixty-two days. It was raining like before. The storm lashed at him, and his heart fell. The rumble had only been thunder.
But the rain woke him up. The sight of the alien clouds set his blood rocketing through his veins. And the breath of fresh air filled his lungs with fire.
He touched his collar. Sixty-two days. His friends hadn’t come. This was his new life now. But the boy rejected that for the first time. It was his choice. He was not a boy; he was Mason Stark.
Mason pulled himself out of the hole. A great blast of lighting ripped the sky apart, turning everything around him blue-white. He heard a rumble again, a sound beneath the sharp bang of thunder. Was it really just the storm? He stood in the rain, enjoying it as he had sixty-two days ago.
Mason grabbed the collar around his neck and melted it off with a thought. He was a willing prisoner no more. Mason was going to die on Nori-Blue—he knew that now—but he wanted to die as himself. Not as this weapon he had become.
He began to stagger for the woods, the sphere that had once been Child heavy on his back, heading in the direction of the strange rumble. The trees swayed viciously in the wind. His armor sensed what he meant to do, and it contracted around him painfully. No! it screamed in his mind. We belong to each other. You need me.
I need nothing, Mason thought back. Nothing besides his crew.
He pulled at the armor over his neck and screamed. It felt like peeling off a layer of skin. He stumbled against a tree trunk, and the armor snapped back into place. “No!” he roared, fingers digging under the seam again. He kept running; he didn’t know where or why. The woods were dark, water pouring down through the leaves. Tiny alien creatures the size of chipmunks ran from his passing.
Mason summoned his will and pulled again, and the gloves began to retract. The pain turned his vision red, and he splashed down into a puddle of warm water. But he didn’t let up. The armor split apart into tendrils all at once, with a cracking sound that made Mason’s ears ring. The ground around him was crawling with black lightning. He felt the material surging away from his skin, a slow liquid leaving fire in its wake. He squeezed his eyes shut. I’M IN CONTROL! he screamed in his mind, a supersonic thought with all of his will behind it. He was vaguely aware of a flaming tree next to him.
When he opened his eyes, the armor was gone. He was wearing black gloves and the skintight gray suit he wore in space. His skin was throbbing with heat and pain, as if he’d been dropped into the middle of a strong fever.
He could feel the gloves pleading with him. They didn’t want to be removed. They would be good. They would obey. But Mason couldn’t trust them. Slowly, gently, he pulled the gloves free and exposed his hands to the warm, humid air.
Mason heard the rumble again, a sound under the thunder. He looked down at the inert black sphere. The rain rolled off its surface, not a drop finding purchase. “I could really use your help, Child,” Mason said, but the sphere was quiet. It always would be. Yet Mason would not leave his friend behind.
Mason moved toward the
sound, feeling lighter but weaker. The urge to slide the gloves onto his hands again was strong—a moment was all he needed, just until the storm was over. Until he was safely away from the Fangborn. Get a safe distance away, and then collect the rain, he thought, his training kicking in. Find a body of water. Make a shelter.
The rumble grew louder, and Mason’s heart began to pound with something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
It was hope.
He began to move faster, feet quickstepping over the roots and mud pits. He shoved leaves aside, ignoring the ones that slapped his face. Soon he was running. There was a clearing ahead. He burst through.
Steaming in the rain was a Tremist Hawk. The ramp was down. People were gathered around it, assembling weapons, checking gear. Mason stood there and watched. Lightning flashed behind him, throwing his shadow across the clearing. The people noticed his shadow, and spun around, guns at the ready.
It was his crew. His entire crew. Tom, Merrin, Stellan, Jeremy, Po, Risperdel, Lore, and even Jiric.
Susan … and Mason’s mother.
He was so filled with joy that he fell to his knees and began to cry. His friends had come back for him.
No one moved toward him; they were all frozen. But then Tom walked toward Mason slowly, almost like he was afraid to scare Mason away. He held up a hand to the crew, to make sure they stayed put.
The gloves were still in Mason’s hand, and he still wanted to put them on, but the urge seemed silly now. So small compared to this.
Tom kneeled in front of Mason so that they faced each other. He was almost smiling, but not quite.
“Hey friend,” Tom said. “Sorry we took so long.”
Mason could only shake his head.
“A lot has happened. But we never stopped thinking about you. Not for one second.”
Mason nodded. But he sensed there was more. “What is it?” His voice came out in a croak; he hadn’t spoken in ages.
“We need you, Stark. The treaty is over.”
The words chilled Mason to his core. The treaty was over, yet all of his friends were here, human and Tremist.
