Starbreaker

by Amanda Bouchet

  I laughed. Some temple-goer walking nearby shushed me, and I brought down the volume. The alcove was secluded, but we weren’t alone by any stretch. “If that’s your big information, it’s old news. About eight years out of date.”

  His nostrils flared. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Fuck you,” I said. It just popped out, surprising me as much as him. Bridgebane’s eyes widened. He didn’t look angry. More…sad, and the stab of guilt that needled straight into my heart enraged me as much as the rest of this did.

  Sanaa Mwende didn’t move, but lightning-hot fury boiled in the fixed stare she leveled on me. If my uncle said the word, I had zero doubt she’d grind my face into the temple floor and thoroughly enjoy it.

  “This is your chance,” Bridgebane said with surprising evenness. “Use it wisely.”

  I wanted to be as distant and icy as he’d been in the months leading up to Mom’s death and my faked floating. I wanted to give him the cold shoulder. Walk away, because I didn’t need him. His lies. Or truths. Or whatever bullshit he was going to feed me.

  “Why do you protect Starway 8?” I blurted out.

  His eyes shuttered. His whole face shut down like I’d just hit a nerve that paralyzed him. “Not that one.”

  Why do I even bother? “Don’t offer info and then say no, asshole.”

  “Don’t speak to me that way, young lady.”

  My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”

  His eyes flared. “Your mother would have a heart attack if she heard your language.”

  “Mom’s dead and you abandoned me.”

  “I left you in the one place you’d be happy!”

  Pilgrims and tourists alike glared and shushed us. I didn’t care. My eyes burned and my heart was doing backflips. I didn’t understand how we were still family, this man and I, after all these years and despite everything. Only family could get under my skin this way—and we didn’t even technically share a common ancestor.

  My mother’s stepbrother abruptly turned and stormed out of the alcove. I didn’t get the feeling he was ditching me, so I followed, Shade and Mwende right behind us. Bridgebane exited the temple at an angry clip, his military bearing unmistakable now. Outside, sunlight hit my eyeballs like hot little daggers. Sweat burst from my pores. Grumbling under my breath, I handed my bag to Shade and ripped off my jacket. Oof. Better. I tied it around my waist, cinching it tight with impatient jerks.

  I hardly noticed the wide paths and sprawling lawns of the inner gardens. They weren’t overcrowded now that the temples were open. There was room to breathe, even if the humid air was as thick as honey. Bridgebane headed for trees—thank the Powers.

  Shade walked beside me. Lieutenant Mwende took a few quick steps to join Bridgebane in front of us. She was alert to everything, coiled, controlled, and ready. Not outwardly aggressive, but still damn scary. She obviously knew what she was doing on the bodyguarding front. Where had she been the last time I’d seen my uncle? He’d been alone on Starway 8—until Shade showed up.

  My stomach wound itself tighter and tighter as I followed them through the Holy Hollow. Nathaniel Bridgebane tied me up in knots, and this was only the second time I’d seen him in eighteen years. Time obviously didn’t heal all things—or erase all betrayals. Right now, I still felt like that grieving eight-year-old girl he’d dumped in an orphanage. The one person left alive that I’d loved had held me back from him at arm’s length, looked me in the eyes, and told me to change my name and never cross his radar again, or he’d kill me, just as the Overseer had ordered.

  Bridgebane whirled once we were under the shade of a flat-leafed tree with conical clusters of nuts dangling from it. I almost ran into him and had to pull up short. We were too close. I flinched back, bumping into Shade instead. Shade put a hand on my lower back to steady me. My heart pounded, and Bridgebane stared at me. I glanced away, avoiding his fierce gaze by finding the tree immensely fascinating.

  “It’s a kimmery,” he said mechanically, his tonelessness at odds with the sudden intensity in his expression. “Native to the Outer Zones. They’ve been brought here.”

  I grunted. I liked trees. Trees were awesome. Trees didn’t rip out your heart, stomp on it, disappear for eighteen years, blow holes in your ship, try to arrest you, and then tell you it was all for your own good—to protect you and the whole damn galaxy. I touched the ridged bark with my fingertip, pressing hard to stop my visible shaking.

  “Your mother liked crushed kimmery nuts sprinkled over vanilla frosting.”

  My hand fell. I swallowed. If there was one thing I remembered, it was how Mom had always looked at Uncle Nate—like he was her hero, and always had been.

  “Dad let her eat that? I mean…the Overseer.”

  He shook his head. “As you know, that was a dessertless household. It was before we got there.”

  What had it been like for him, suddenly having a fourteen-year-old girl move into his house with her mother? He’d been sixteen, but as far as I knew, the stepsiblings had quickly become thick as thieves, mainly because my mother flatly refused to be left out of Uncle Nate’s adventures.

  “What else did she like?” I hardly remembered. Not details like that, especially because I didn’t think she had anything she liked or wanted after she married the Overseer.

  “Colors,” he answered. “The brighter the better. And novels. And protecting others, even at the expense of herself. You’re more like Caitrin than you realize.”

  He sounded as if that were a bad thing. Probably because Mom’s choices had gotten her killed. I figured mine would, too—someday. I just hoped for later rather than sooner.

  He cleared his throat. “I should get back to Alpha Sambian.”

  I waved a dismissive hand, instantly doused in bitterness again. “By all means, go back to being an evil minion of the empire.”

  “You understand nothing,” Mwende hissed.

  I took a step back, my hand flying to my heart. “She speaks!”

  Mwende’s dark eyes narrowed at my sarcasm. “I have a lot of words for you, Daraja.”

  “Daraja?” What does that mean?

  “Take care of yourself,” Bridgebane said stiffly.

  “Wait.” There was one question he’d better answer. “Where’s Shiori Takashi?”

  My uncle’s mouth flattened, reluctance to tell me written in the tight seam of his lips. My heart started the painful thud, thud of being sure horrible news was coming. Was she dead?

  Suddenly, on a quick gust of breath… “Starbase 12,” Bridgebane said. “You’ll never reach her.”

  “Starbase 12?” My eyes widened. Despair, hope, and impossible rebel missions crashed inside me like a cyclone. Breaking Reena Ahern out of Imperial Headquarters already seemed impossible. Getting Shiori out would only make it harder. But could we do both? I wouldn’t go in for Ahern and not try to save Shiori.

  “Is she okay?” I steeled myself for any answer.

  “She’s sedated. She bit through her own wrists in an attempted suicide. I believe it was to eliminate any incentive to come after her.”

  The bottom of my stomach dropped out with a heaving rush that left me reeling. I stumbled back from the harsh slap of his words, unsteady.

  Shade was suddenly there, propping me upright. His furious gaze drilled into Bridgebane. “You couldn’t have softened that up a bit?” he growled.

  I breathed hard, set loose with no gravity. The image of Shiori—teeth red, wrists open—seared my eyes like the tears that built behind them. Nothing I knew about her made me think that was a falsehood.

  “She’s stable now,” Bridgebane added more gently.

  Shiori’s screamed “Don’t come for me! I forbid it!” rang in my head, an echo I heard daily. Hourly. She’d known I wouldn’t listen. That I’d make plans to free her. Did that make this my fault? Gray hair stained crims
on. Papery skin draining of color. Eyes that had been sightless for years, now wide open and waiting for Miko.

  I inhaled, loud and shaky.

  My uncle reached for me, his brow creasing. It was the weirdest thing when he wrapped a big, warm hand around my bare elbow and squeezed. It didn’t feel…awful.

  “She’s my grandmother,” I whispered. “Can you protect her?”

  He looked at me oddly. “Your grandmother died when you were six. You never knew Caitrin’s mother.”

  No. The Overseer wouldn’t let Mom’s family anywhere near us. Only Nathaniel Bridgebane had done something, said something, to get himself into the inner circle.

  “She is.” My voice cracked, nearly breaking me. “She’s my family, and I love her.” A tear spilled from my eye. I felt it track down my cheek and swatted it away, blinking rapidly.

  My uncle let go of my arm and stared at me, clearly horrified. Did any sign of weakness appall him? Well, too bad. We couldn’t all be dead-eyed jerks who deserted the people who needed them.

  Shade tucked me closer, offering the comfort I needed. I tried to shake off the lingering feel of Bridgebane’s hand on my elbow. Shade had the right to touch me. My uncle didn’t.

  “What about a hint?” Shade asked. “Something to go on—if we decide to try something stupid.”

  I stood up straighter, a tiny seed of hope wanting to take root inside me. If Bridgebane helped us, it could mean the key to two cages.

  “Don’t try. It’s impossible. You’ll end up captured. Or dead.” Bridgebane looked at each of us in turn, forgetting to treat Shade as though he didn’t exist anymore. “I might not be able to help you.”

  “We won’t ask you to.” Possibilities started to shoot through my mind like missiles—a chaotic barrage of risk versus potential reward. “But help us now. You must know something.”

  My uncle’s face twisted. A low growl rumbled out from between his clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t have told you. You’re just like Caitrin. Too stubborn.”

  “Then help me.” I wasn’t above pleading. Part of me couldn’t believe Nathaniel Bridgebane and I were having an almost normal, almost civil conversation. Another part of me didn’t even feel the distance of years and desertion between us, or the fact that he was a Dark Watch general and I was a rebel Nightchaser. All I knew was that he brought out a deep ache inside me—made worse by fear for Shiori—and that the more we talked, the rawer and more uncertain I felt about everything.

  Bridgebane shook his head. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  I scoffed, the sound as dirty and icy as a comet.

  “More hurt,” he said, his jaw flexing.

  “Starbase 12,” I encouraged. “I remember my way around. I know how to get to the three incarceration levels through the back stairwells. I remember the U-shaped cellblocks. I even know where the cameras are located.”

  He glared at me, silent, his blue eyes burning. He believed me. He’d shown me all that when I was a kid. Anything to get me away from the Overseer, even if that meant wandering Imperial Headquarters from top to bottom and front to back.

  “I won’t give up,” I vowed. “Contrary to you, I’d rather die than abandon my family.”

  Sanaa Mwende sliced a knife through the air so fast it whistled. The blade landed under my jaw before I could blink. I froze. Shade sucked in a breath, tensing. I had no idea where the weapon had come from, or how she’d produced it so quickly. None of us moved. My pulse beat against the sharp, hard metal. The lieutenant’s expression promised all kinds of retribution for my cutting words.

  “You shoot your mouth off about things you don’t understand. I don’t like it.” She had a slight accent I hadn’t noticed before with how little she’d spoken, enunciating her words very precisely.

  I breathed shallowly. My eyes darted to my uncle.

  “Stand down, Sanaa.” Bridgebane uttered a world-weary sound that might almost have made sympathy crack open inside me if I didn’t have a knife to my throat.

  The blade pricked like a bee sting. I didn’t dare swallow.

  “She’s disrespectful.” Mwende didn’t lower her weapon, which directly defied my uncle’s order.

  “Have I given her any reason to respect me?” he asked.

  The question caught me off guard. Frowning, I eased back for some breathing room between my neck and Sanaa and her knife skills. I’d loved my mother unconditionally, but Uncle Nate had been the person I’d respected most in the whole galaxy—until he’d bought into the Overseer’s crap and dumped Mom and me.

  Mwende finally stepped back, sheathing her blade in one smooth motion. “People cannot know what you do not tell them.”

  Well, don’t be cryptic or anything. I scowled. The lieutenant’s chin lifted, her assessing once-over carrying a hint of challenge. If she thought I was going to ask, she was mistaken. Whatever explanations Bridgebane had for his behavior toward me or anyone else in the galaxy were going to have to die with these two, because I didn’t give two fucks.

  Maybe one fuck, but not two.

  My lips tightening, I touched my neck and glanced at my fingers. No blood. Mwende hadn’t even broken the skin, despite the quick jab toward my jugular. “Now that we’re done waving knives around, can we please get back to Shiori? A code? A guard shift schedule? Anything? I know you don’t want me to die—thanks, by the way”—my uncle’s eyes narrowed at my tone—“so a hint would be really helpful.”

  He glanced at his lieutenant, as if she had a say in his decisions. She gave him a What the hell are you waiting for kind of look, as though she couldn’t fathom why he was still just standing there like an idiot.

  Apparently, she did have a say. Interesting. I’d never imagined him having a…partner? For some reason, the idea made me like them both just a little bit better. Nothing about the way they interacted led me to believe they were lovers, but there was definitely something between them. Trust. Maybe friendship.

  Bridgebane hovered in what looked like a state of indecision, shocking me. I couldn’t claim to know my uncle well anymore, but I’d never seen him hesitate. Mwende took the next step for him, shocking me even further. She produced the small tablet again, shoved it into his chest, and let go. Bridgebane grabbed it before it fell. He glowered at her.

  “There is a secure location where she could pick up information.” Mwende clearly hinted at something they both knew about. “Just print out a key card. Give her the address. Unlock the door, General.”

  I wanted to scream, “What door?” but didn’t. It took considerable effort to stay quiet and let them work out whatever this was between them.

  My uncle clenched his free hand into a fist against his thigh and started tapping it. He looked at the sky. He looked down. He looked at the tablet. His mouth puckered, flattened. His feet shifted. What the hell is wrong with him?

  “Fine.” The word shot from him like a bullet. He glared at Mwende. “But this is on you if it backfires.”

  She nodded, accepting the consequences. Were they talking about something other than just the colossal danger of us trying to get in and out of Starbase 12 undetected? It felt like more than that, but I couldn’t figure out the second layer of their conversation.

  Bridgebane’s hand flew over the screen, which he hid from me. His tapping was hard and precise, almost aggressive. He jabbed his finger down a final time and then waited. A moment later, a key card began slowly emerging from the side slot, the internal printer almost silent. He caught it when the tablet spit it out and rubbed his thumb over the raised dots of the encoded data. I reached for it, but he lifted it away from me, his grip so hard his fingers whitened.

  “If I come up with something to help you recover Shiori Takashi, I’ll leave it here in five days. Will that be sufficient?”

  Sufficient? To be honest, I was flabbergasted. Who was this man? He knew Shiori’s name, w
here she was, and what condition she was in? He must have found out for me, for our meeting today. How had Bridgebane gone from telling me he would kill me if he ever saw me again to helping me? How could the same person threaten Mareeka and Surral, take my blood for the Overseer, and still do something decent?

  Confusion tied me up in knots as I held out my hand for the key card again. “Where’s ‘here’?” I asked, because there was no way in hell I was asking any of the other questions I wanted to blurt out.

  “Sanaa knows the address.” He handed the key card to his lieutenant.

  What? “What?” I said aloud this time. My eyes widening, my head swiveled first to her and then back to my uncle. I stared at him blankly. “She’s not coming with us.”

  “No way,” Shade said, shaking his head along with me.

  Sanaa Mwende barked out a laugh that could have cut diamonds. She looked at the key card in her hand and then at Bridgebane. Two seconds later, she went off on him in a language I didn’t recognize, treating him to a one-sided tirade he didn’t appear to understand, either, but listened to with stony patience, not interrupting.

  My ears automatically perked to the unfamiliar sounds pouring from her mouth on livid syllables. With her high, proud forehead, starless-night eyes, unmistakable fierceness, and clear devotion to my uncle, this woman got more interesting by the second. Only a generously calculated one percent of the galaxy’s population still spoke something other than the universal language, imposed on all at the start of the exodus for sheer convenience in a time of danger. And Mwende wasn’t using only a word or two, passed down like keepsakes. This was a whole outburst, only none of us could understand it.

  She finally switched back to the universal tongue, seamlessly continuing her rant with words we could comprehend again. “You worry about her—day in and day out. For two weeks now, ever since you found her. ‘Oh, the girl. We must protect her.’ You send me with her? Then who protects you now?”