by E L Strife
The team’s conversation stalled when a worker rattled off a frantic string of sounds.
Cutter took a step between the man and Atana, index finger sliding over the trigger of his shotgun.
Lifting a hand, Azure gave Cutter a don’t bother shake of his head. “He wants to know why Sah—I mean, Atana—can read the code, since she’s from Earth.”
The onlookers grew eerily silent.
Atana swiveled on her toes, a fleeting discomfort tightening her chest. “I don’t know.”
“Zephyr Station—with me.” Azure’s eyes leveled with hers under knitted brows. You don’t remember? It is important to you and me.
Remind me later? she asked.
I will. But the sag in his face suggested it was another unpleasant part of their past. “Zephyr Station is the closest outpost to us. Three Kyra warships are designated to each active quadrant. Zephyr can dock up to twelve at once.”
Panton’s arms inched tighter around Josie. “Kyras entail what exactly?”
“They have your standard plasma-pulse weapons.” Healer Paramor handed a bundled baby back to its mother and tucked his silvery hands in his sleeves, approaching the group. “They carry 150 to 200 Linoans inside with their own fighting spacecraft and an assortment of munitions.”
“We don’t have the defensive capabilities for such an onslaught,” Josie stammered.
“Why do they even have Kyras?” Tanner asked, clicking through screens on his laptop. “I mean, they have a self-proclaimed dominant status in the universe and have been effective for thousands of years with the Agutra ships. Why the protection? I haven’t found anything in here on that.”
Bennett spread his feet and grabbed Atana’s arm. She turned to find him silently begging for help up.
“Is the vision gone?”
“Yes.”
Chewing a lip, she collected him, and the two stood. He gave her a single nod. She let go.
Azure freed Kios from his leg and lifted him into his arms. “Occasional young deviants attempt to take over before their due time. The stations in every cluster of galaxies house Kyra warships to maintain proper Suanoan order.”
Josie scoffed. “No surprise. But are three really necessary?”
“Overkill is sort of the name of their game, don’t you think?” Straightening his back, Bennett sighed.
“There is another reason, the sworn enemy of the Primvera.” Paramor rested a hand on a green perimeter guard beside him. Hundreds of long, translucent tentacles uncurled from the man’s spine. “Linétens, founders of the Verros, have a similar interest in gaining control of the ships. They call this a secure ride to the future.”
“Prims believe in peace,” the man said.
“The Linétens—power and pride.” The words tumbled out before Atana could stop them. “They have the same obsession with live experimentation.”
“Unfortunately.” Paramor’s mellifluous voice turned sour and sharp, “The Suanoa have built themselves an empire in the stars, one which has survived deaths of multiple galaxies. These Linétens are a reckless, tech-savvy species, easily angered, and don’t hesitate to kill for a chance to have what they want. They have their own fleet to mimic this life.” Wild indignation flashed across his steely expression before submerging again. “But it is nothing compared to the Suanoan Empire.”
“Membership often ends in death.” Azure snorted.
“Sounds like our Kronos,” Panton muttered. The team acknowledged with nods in agreement. “Power-driven, conceited bastards that don’t hesitate to sacrifice others for their personal benefit.”
Atana knew the Kronos well. Most of her missions before the invasion had been Kronos assassinations. She didn’t know where the question came from, but it begged to be asked. “Are there larger Agutra ships under construction at Zephyr to help with this threat? To feed the Kyras while deployed?”
“Yes.” Paramor’s silvery skin glittered as he turned to give her a wary glance. “When the senior member of the Suanoa is removed from command and the two aimids who sit at the apogee’s sides do not assume control, the system locks out all other Suanoa DNA until an Orderly can be sent from a station to reassign command to another imperial.”
He adjusted the bulky cloak over his shoulders. “There will likely be one of each on a Kyra when they arrive. Doku slaves can guide this Agutra as they operate its propulsion. However, the ship’s speed and combative capabilities are restricted without the DNA of a triad imperial. We are stuck orbiting your planet.”
Cutter signaled Panton for the secure home-channel communicator. “I will let Command know.”
Device in hand, he walked off to a quieter area in the charred, mushy fields.
Sidling up to Paramor, Azure lowered his voice, his eyes not leaving Atana’s. Paramor was also inspecting her with slow, deliberate focus.
The sudden attention had her jumpy inside. Another memory or bond or something was missing. She hated others being privy to her past when all she had were ghosts and disjointed fragments. Control was essential for plans to work. All she felt at that moment was a thought-scrambling mix of insecurity and frustration.
“We need a system to transition the workers,” Azure said. “I fear too much freedom, without instruction, and they won’t know what to do or how to respect it.”
“The Healers and Saemas already have a plan.” Paramor tilted toward Azure as if to whisper over his shoulder, though no words were said. Azure shook his head, looking disappointed. Paramor had asked a question she couldn’t hear. He was an Orionate, an Elite, and likely had selective telepathy like Chamarel.
She felt like she was falling behind. A heavy thud from her heart made her sigh. Atana needed silence, away from judging eyes, to have any hope of focusing on solutions to their newest problem. Waving a hand at the surrounding shepherds, they formed up at her signal. “We need to get back to Home Station and talk to Command about our next steps.”
Cutter slipped back into the group. “They’re prepping the hangars for any Earth survivors we find here and on Linoan collectors. Command wants everyone routed there so we can transport them to their designated zones.”
Atana swept a loose wave of hair behind an ear. “They want to expose Home Station’s location?”
“I’m sure it’s a control issue.” Bennett rubbed his empty wrist. “Command will want to scan every tracker to know who’s been caught up in this so they can watch them. They’ll get a pill from Rio to forget the last few hours, anyway.”
“Home Station survived the plasma pulses?” Atana asked.
“Yes,” Tanner punched the air with a thumb. “Just snagged the data link via Space Station Hope. There’s so much interference, it took me forever to catch even a patchy signal. Home Station is intact. We lost Mountain Base Eleven and Arctic Base Two. Civilian casualties are hard to calculate due to the recent collector activity.” He paused, his eyes lifting to Cutter. “Ocean Base thirty-five is completely gone—sloughing off rock from the cliffs.”
Cutter’s features didn’t move, but his tone held the faintest upward inflection when he looked down at his co-shepherd. “Gone?”
“I’m sorry.” Tanner closed his laptop, folding it against his chest. “There’s—nothing left.”
Josie gripped Panton’s arm, eyes widening at Tanner. “O.B. thirty-four?”
“All others are holding,” Tanner nodded.
Calmly letting out the breath in her lungs, Atana thanked the stars Sand Base Eight wasn’t on the list. She’d left her post when the invasion hit and couldn’t bear the guilt of not being able to protect them. Life, to her, was a twisted version of a Suanoan pick your poison test. There were no right answers, only wrong and worse ones.
Cutter’s gaze drifted off to a distant, invisible land in a way that resonated with her. She wanted to talk to him. Later.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bennett grimaced then bobbed his head. “For now, let’s contact Space Station Hope and get them over here to help trans
port our people home. Azure, any ideas on how to gain control of the Linoan collectors on Earth and corral those coming in from space?”
The warrior’s nostrils flared. “It’s best to let the collectors dock and rush the ship before the Linoans open the life slots so your people stay asleep for the ride back.” He flagged down several workers. “I will have the perimeter guards help find the Earthlings and take them to the docks on their way there. Some of our maintenance workers can fly them.”
Josie glanced up at Panton. “Is there a better way to get control of the collectors on the planet than the method we tried? I don’t know how many times we can jump ship like that and live to talk about it.”
Before Azure could respond, Imara, his second in command, spoke from behind him, her voice hoarse from barking orders. “A localized EMP near the rear gates will shut down the stabilizer in the propulsion system and force them to land.”
Her dark skin was covered in gashes, the navy stripes on her face hidden beneath dried blood. Imara’s frizzy dreads swung as she sent one last hand signal to a group of perimeter guards looking in from the hall bordering the fields. Then she turned to Atana with a shallow dip of her body. “Sahara. We are grateful for your help.”
Returning the gesture, Atana felt the air between them thicken. Imara was honed in on Azure, reverence in her eyes. “As are we for yours.”
Azure looked to be anything but comfortable as he swayed, encouraging Kios to sleep.
Imara toyed with a bead in one of her dreads. “Martiis—sir. Do you want us to coordinate the sweeper crews?”
“Tsu.” Azure nodded.
A magenta Primvera rounded Imara’s side, Teek’s shoulder braced in a hand. The young woman urged him to join the group. Illuminated strands unfurled from her back, forming a pair of arced wings. “Remmi.”
“M-Mia,” Tanner stuttered, straightening beside Atana, unable to help the fraction of a smile on his face. “Amianna.”
She dropped her eyes to the furry, gray teen, whose hands clutched the strap over his shoulder. “Mu’kesho has your EMPs, yes?”
Teek eyed Bennett, managing only a discordant hum in response.
Amianna winked at Tanner before pivoting to walk away with Imara.
Teek tucked himself behind Atana, satchel rattling and clinking. His tail curled around her body, saffron eyes bulging at Bennett. “I not like fire.”
Atana peered down at him. “You did okay with mine. Why not Bennett? He won’t hurt you.”
Pointing a shaky finger, Teek shuddered. “His fire the color of Simmaro tears and human blood.”
Tanner gave Teek a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “B’s really cool when you get to know him.”
“That’s terrible, Remmi.” Bennett snorted, a corner of his mouth curling.
Teek’s face scrunched. “I do not understand.”
“I think he means nice,” Atana said, realizing serum was wearing thin in everyone’s veins. Humor, sympathy, compassion—these were things subdued in regulated shepherds. “We need to govern these responses when we return. Command will not accept them.”
The shepherds shifted in their marred and mud-caked boots. Panton and Josie separated, Tanner whispered an apology, and Bennett’s smile fell.
A profound emptiness followed, peaceful to her. But for the others, she wondered. When they went back on serum, would they remember the feelings they had now? “Earth and Agutra need you. You must do this to be able to fight.” She paused, scanning the battle-bruised faces around her. “Do not forget what you have seen here.”
The group acknowledged with a host of weary mumbles. It was sufficient.
“Thank you for what you all have done.” Paramor’s dulcet grace eased the deafening silence that followed.
Imara reappeared beside Azure. “I’m getting word there are a few collectors ready, multiple docks, level seven.”
Atana scanned the paired up shepherds. “Let’s get our injured back home.” Gesturing they follow Imara, the shepherds let out a collective, through strained, hooah.
Paramor raised his voice after the team. “How do we keep in contact with you when you have left?”
Stopping, Atana looked back to see Panton hand him a Home Station communicator. “Ask for Nalli.”
The gathered shepherds hustled after Azure and Imara, several carrying loaded, makeshift stretchers with Earthlings swinging in their fabric.
When Atana turned to follow her crews, a hand to Bennett’s back, she stole one last glance at Paramor. He held her gaze for a moment before another injured worker was presented to him, and he was forced to look away. In that breath, he’d exposed the depth of his pain and regret from something sinister in their past. But in a final flicker, he showed a twitch of a smile, a glimmer of hope, relief.
Chapter 8
ATANA TRAILED BEHIND, not wanting to admit her exhaustion. She hoped the others would assume she was guarding the rear and wouldn’t give her more than half a thought. Bennett appeared to have the same idea.
His irises smoldered like dim coals, his steps laboriously shifting his weight. Bennett’s honeyed toes sunk deep in the wet soil. “You ready for all this?”
She grimaced. “I think the bigger question is—are we? Sure, we pulled together for the mutiny.” Rubbing grungy fingers over her eyes, she pushed back the fatigue for a few more clear thoughts. “Kyras are far beyond our current defense capabilities. You and I both know the smallest UP transport takes five weeks to build. We have to repurpose what’s available, something we can modify in under two.”
A heavy breath puffed out his cheeks. “Any ideas?”
“Still running through the list of options. I’ll look into it more when we’re back.” She looked up the string of paired shepherds to where Azure marched at the head, an e-rifle in hand, an arm hooked around Kios. Azure appeared to be scouting for threats, but she knew by the stiffness of his posture his thoughts were on something else entirely.
Atana tossed her head in Azure’s direction. “He knows Agutra’s assets. We haven’t had time to talk about the plan after a mutiny, for them or us. We got thrown into this without warning. Massacring the workers of the Hatoga fields struck a nerve with all of us.”
The shepherds filed out into the pitchy hallway, aiming for the collector dock on level seven. Tanner threw a goofy grin over his shoulder. “They lit the fuse, and we were the bomb.”
Farther up in the pairs of shepherds, Josie’s head hung back in exasperation. “Oh God, not this again.”
“Technically,” Panton’s booming drawl paused for emphasis as he marched beside his co-shepherd, “wasn’t Atana the bomb?”
“Don’t forget Azure.” Cutter stepped out of the line to inspect an adjacent hall, shotgun lifted, flashlight beam dancing over the metal framework. “We found them, together.”
It didn’t matter how flat Cutter’s words were; they still made shepherds’ heads swivel between Azure at the front and her at the back. Blank-faced or not, they’d looked with an intensity that made Atana’s palms sweat. Their serum was fading. Every shepherd still had on their reversed receivers, blocking all telepathy, leaving her floundering in uncertainty over the content of their thoughts. Atana had taken her gift for granted already and was left to sort the old-fashioned way.
Tracking the shepherds who looked, all broader in the shoulders and thicker in the thighs than the others, she realized she had only met pairs of blue eyes. Command’s reminder of the refugee species on Earth made her wonder if these shepherds were concealed Xahu’ré or at least half-breeds like her. Xahu’ré were strong fighters and not called warriors without reason. She figured it logical that most of the shepherds who had survived would be Xahu’ré. It’s what a fair portion of the perimeter guards were because they endured longer shifts, healed faster, were telepathic, and hit harder because of their density.
Bennett rolled his eyes and canted toward her. “Serum withdrawal infuses my team with terrible jokes. Tanner is the worst—or the best
. I haven’t decided.”
“I heard that, B.” The young sergeant chuckled. “Can’t blame me. I learned it from you.”
“Yes, yes. Just no jibes at leaders.”
Atana pursed her lips at the unexpected urge to smile.
Panton wheezed. Josie retracted an elbow from his side. “I apologize, Sergeant Atana.”
“No harm done,” Atana replied. When surrounded by blood-spattered walls, the heavy scent of death on the air, to find joy in anything felt like a damnable crime. “It’s better than the manic alternative.”
“Agreed.” Bennett bobbed his head, letting out a short laugh.
The hushed swish of their loosely-woven workers’ clothing filled a moment of silence, the shepherds’ ahead of them trained and dressed to not make a sound.
“You know Command will want a debrief as soon as we’re back.” Bennett patted his empty sides, whipping around to scour the area for threats. “I’m not sure how we’re going to manage to build an army against the Kyras, address the Kronos’s typical demand for attention, and console Earth when there are still Linoans circling. Our shepherds and Agutra’s guards have been cut down with the rest. Resources are limited as it is. If Command is mostly non-human, as you say, I hope they’ve got more hidden from us, like a major backup plan.”
His nervous twitches and drumming fingers expressed what she felt: naked without a weapon in her hands. “We have to hope Agutra can hold itself together. Kronos might have to be ignored. Their threat is minimal compared to planetary annihilation. Our focus needs to be on what we don’t understand and solving that.”
“Like us?”
He said it so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. His pace slowed. Catching a lambent shimmer in his eyes, she held back. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, maybe nothing.”
But she felt it too: someone was watching. Atana spun, searching the rafters, corners, every conduit panel for glints from eyes, metal, and weapons. The world whooshed and pulsed around her before she could pinpoint a threat. Curling forward, her hands clamped to her temples in an attempt to ground herself. Not yet, please.
