by Eileen Sharp
“Why can’t they call? And Cristian would never lie.”
“I don’t know why they can’t. But I do think Cristian is hiding something, maybe even lying. Everyone is capable of lying.”
“He wouldn’t lie,” she insisted, another tear falling. “He’s your friend. I know him. He would never, never do anything like lying about our parents being all right. Never.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “But he is, Caina.”
She flipped her wrist over and called their parents, but like Joshua’s attempt, the screen did not open. Words came on the screen from their mother. Are you here?
Caina looked over at Joshua, and he thought he saw a hint of belief in her eyes. She answered back, aloud. “Yes! Where have you been? Mom, I was scared.” The text dutifully appeared and was sent, though Joshua knew the words couldn’t match the intensity of her fear and suspicion. The fear and suspicion he had planted. His instincts had better be right.
The answer returned in words on the screen. We’re okay. I’m sorry we couldn’t call earlier but everything is all right.
“I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him.” Her voice wavered on the words.
We love you, too.
She stared at the words and then back at him. “Why can’t they call?”
“Can you trust me?”
“No.” She said, crossing her arms and her legs, a bundle of defiance. But it was false defiance—the kind built around fear. She was afraid he was right.
He guided them down into the atmosphere, thinking about what would happen when he met Cristian. He couldn’t even guess. His thoughts were interrupted by Cristian’s voice, and he looked over at Caina, startled. She’d called Cristian.
“Caina?” Cristian was the picture of shock, his face pale.
“Hey, Cristian. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s good to s-see you.”
She peered closer at the screen and her eyes widened. “What happened to you? You’re hurt!”
Cristian looked behind his shoulder, a movement that was eerily familiar to Joshua. What was Cristian looking at all the time? “It’s n-nothing. I got banged up when I left Huron. I’m okay.”
“Pretty rugged,” she teased.
Cristian’s response lagged. “Oh, yeah. That’s me.”
“We’ll be there in one minute. Can’t wait!”
There was a slight pause at this cheerful assertion and Cristian responded, “Be s-safe.”
“See you later.”
The screen closed and she sat there, staring at the pale blue screen. “I didn’t know he stuttered.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what to make of that. Maybe he did it when he was younger, before we knew him, and stress is bringing it out again.”
She sighed, looking out the window and crossing her arms. She felt it now, he knew—the inexplicable unease.
The land masses on Saida grew closer, and then the Suki sank into the air above Bephis, Cristian’s home city. They reached the landing port, a bone white, multi-level structure built for interspace craft.
The planet Saida had the only monarchy in the Alliance. The Verde Colony was actually a figurehead monarchy with a parliament, but they had a queen, nonetheless. The colonists liked the stability, and most of all, the historic pageantry. They had a particular pride in their colonial history that most other colonies didn’t have.
Travelers and space craft filled the port. Engines whined down, and people called out to each other, some of them in loud reunions and others disembarking quietly. A few of the transports had the symbol of the crown on them, marking them as official vehicles.
The sky was red and black, the signature sunsets that were peculiar to Saida. The wind blew into the port, gentle and muted by the walls.
When they stepped out of the sleek black craft, a lone figure in a long black coat was waiting for them. Cristian’s eyes widened. “W-where did you g-get the Suki?”
“Borrowed it,” Joshua answered.
Caina pulled her hood over her hair, taming the wind whipped strands. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“They’re not b-back yet. They’ll meet us at my home.”
Joshua scanned his friend’s face. He could hear Cristian’s heart beating too fast.
Caina stepped closer to Cristian. “You really got hurt, didn’t you?”
Cristian answered lightly, “It’s no b-big deal.”
“Are my parents all right?” Caina asked, her hands gripping the strap of her backpack on her shoulder, her knuckles turning white.
“They’re f-fine.”
Joshua heard Cristian’s heartbeat speed up again.
They reached the wall where the transports were retrieved, a big red “D5” marked on it. Cristian put his hand on a small screen next to the rail, and the name of his transport flickered on the wall. Cristian tapped the small screen to confirm and stepped back. A low rumble sounded behind the wall and the doors slid open, Cristian’s transport rolling out, hung on a robotic cage of moving arms that slid it out to the platform.
Cristian opened the door for Caina, staring back at Joshua for a moment before he turned away.
Chapter Eight
Traitor
CAINA OPENED THE WINDOW as they rode, the scent of the sea and the cold salty breezes rushing past. Beside her, Joshua sat back, his lean body loose and relaxed. She knew better. In his red eyes, she saw rage, almost glowing around his black pupils. Didn’t Cristian know her brother well enough to see the anger?
Cristian hadn’t seemed very aware of anything. He had not even noticed the onix threads crisscrossing over Joshua’s clothes. Unable to decipher him, she turned her attention to the scenery. The sea-green aqua of the ocean under the bridge seared her eyes with its beauty. Diamond-white sands sparkled against the blues of the water and the sky. Any other time she would have been drunk with the colors, but now her stomach was in knots. She couldn’t pretend to be calm like Joshua could. Even though she’d argued with him about his unease, she believed him the moment he’d patiently lowered his voice.
She believed Cristian was lying to them, but seeing him bruised and hurt made her ache for him. He was staring ahead in the driver’s seat, though she knew he had set the transport to drive itself. He could have swiveled the seat around to talk to them, but he didn’t.
Elegant skyscrapers reached into the blue sky, some of them curving and earthy, others stark and mirrored. They stopped at a tall building that stabbed up into the sky, and she stepped out into a cold wind. The three of them walked under a concrete pavilion to the entrance, across an expansive courtyard with the monarchy’s crest embedded in the plasticrete.
Cristian jammed his hands into his coat pockets, his head down. Joshua flung an arm around Caina’s shoulders as they walked. It wasn’t a casual gesture, she knew. He was keeping her close. Cristian looked back at them, his cut lips tightening as he turned away. He was limping—she hadn’t noticed it before. Inside the building, they went through an atrium that reached up to the endless ceiling. In a glass elevator, they watched the levels slide by as they ascended. They arrived at one of the top floors, and Joshua followed Cristian, even though Caina knew he had been to Cristian’s home before.
“Are your parents home?” Joshua asked.
“Are they ever?” Cristian asked, and the bitterness in his voice was the first bit of honesty she’d heard from him.
The ceiling was high and domed, the whole floor like its own building. Columns rose up around the dome, framing marbled corridors. Cristian walked until they came to a set of double doors. They opened silently, identifying Cristian through any number of biomarkers.
A view of the ocean greeted them, the walls made of gilded windows. Cream-colored pieces of artfully sculpted furniture matched the carpet. The monochromatic colors drew her gaze to the horizon in the windows. The three of them stood in the scarlet haze of the sunset, watching each other.
“Where are they?” Joshua asked.
Cristian stared back at him for a moment, and then his body was enveloped in a green aura. He groaned once, and his back arched before he collapsed to the floor. The d-plasma crackled around him for a moment, and then faded.
“Get down!” Joshua warned.
She dropped to the floor, her face next to Cristian’s. His face was contorted in pain, the agony etched deeply in his unconscious face. Above her, Joshua faded from sight. The onix, she remembered.
Two men in the same uniforms she’d seen on Huron emerged from a doorway beyond the windows, their eyes covered by black visors. Fear gripped her, and she clenched her fists close to her body. Joshua had told her to stay down, but she felt vulnerable without him.
One of the men jerked backwards as if pulled by an invisible string. Joshua, she realized. The man lifted his gun, his arm shaking and his face strained, and shot his partner. Then the gun slowly turned, the man’s hands shaking as the barrel faced him. He grunted with the effort of fighting the invisible Joshua, and then the d-plasma burst over him and he fell.
Her relief was short-lived as four more men came through the main door. One of them broke away from the rest, running to her. He was broad-shouldered and heavy with muscles, his face harsh with a large, bony jaw. He lifted his gun at her, taking aim. She jumped from the floor and ran.
She heard a sound, a muffled curse that sounded like Joshua. She ran along the windowed wall, the gilded panes flying past her. Her sandal straps bit into her legs, not meant for running.
The windows led to a slick, open room where chandeliers hung over an empty floor. She skidded out across the floor. Heavy footsteps behind her slid, the soles squeaking for traction. She slipped, her sandals unable to catch hold. Scrambling helplessly, she looked behind her just in time for the man to crash into her. The wind was knocked out of her as he fell, crushing her beneath his weight. She heard the sound of the plasma gun whining to discharge at point blank, and closed her eyes. Suddenly, her pursuer grunted and rolled off her. She turned to see him jerking in a plasma convulsion. Someone grabbed her wrist, helping her up.
“I told you to stay down,” Joshua muttered. Still invisible, he pulled her across the room to a set of vintage Old Earth double doors.
They went through the opened doors and into the corridor beyond. Caina guessed that Joshua had been at Cristian’s house enough times to warrant a guest security clearance since all the doors opened for him.
He found a bedroom and pushed her inside. “Get in the closet and stay there no matter what you hear. Understand?”
She nodded in the direction of his disembodied voice and watched the door shut. The room was very masculine, dark wood on the walls and a square bed with black linens in the center of the longest wall. She found the closet, closed the doors, and sank to the floor, her arms around her knees as she listened.
Her heart beat against her chest as she tried to breathe quietly. She couldn’t hear anything. How would she know he was all right? Where were her parents, really? What had happened to them?
The clothes smelled like Cristian, so this was probably his bedroom. What made him betray them?
She slid the doors open and crept out. She crouched on the floor, listening, then crawled towards the door. Then she heard footsteps. A lot of them. Terrified, she looked at the closet trying to decide if she should retreat or try to make it under the bed. The footsteps were at the door when she rolled under the bed.
The door opened, and a voice said, “Leave him here.”
One of them commanded the lights to turn on and the room brightened. She stopped breathing. They would find her, she knew. Someone stumbled toward the bed and sat on it.
“Just leave m-me alone,” a familiar voice mumbled from the bed. Cristian.
“Stay here, Psycho Boy,” one of them said and the footsteps went out the door.
She remained frozen under the bed, but Cristian didn’t speak. The bed moved as if he were lying down, and then there was only the sound of his breathing, slow and deep. He was sleeping.
She dared to peek out, but she couldn’t see anyone. Were there cameras recording the room? If there were cameras she would have been caught already. Torn between fear and curiosity, she finally crept out from under the bed.
She stood over Cristian, watching him sleep. His face was peaceful, free from the pain she’d seen earlier. Actually, he looked too peaceful. He looked very much like he was faking.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she warred with the unfamiliar idea that she was afraid of him. He was no longer a friend, he was an enemy. The bruises around his eyes, the cut on his mouth and the other signs that he’d been beaten told her that he had his own enemies. Were his enemies theirs as well? If he had the chance, would he help or betray?
There was no moment when she made a conscious choice. She simply gave in to the one emotion that outweighed all the others—the belief that Cristian was still the same Cristian she’d always known, no matter how improbable it seemed. She leaned over him, touching his arm, terror flooding through every cell in her body, warning her not to do it. His arm snaked out and grabbed her hand. She would have screamed but his hand fumbled for her mouth and clamped over it. What frightened her most was that his eyes remained closed. His hand was so tight on her mouth it hurt. He whispered, the words barely more than air, “Don’t speak.”
She went still. His hand loosened on her mouth a little. Her mind raced as she stared at his closed eyes. He was refusing to look at her, deliberately blind. Why? And he didn’t want her to talk. She struggled to put the pieces together. He didn’t want to see her, he didn’t want to hear her, but he could touch her.
She put her hand on the fingers clamped over her mouth and gently tugged at them. He slowly loosened them. When she was free she sat up. He put a finger to his lips, to signal her to silence. She couldn’t nod or even whisper to tell him she understood.
She reached out tentatively and found his hand. He wrapped his hand around hers, twining their fingers together. The gentle gesture was just as surprising as his silent attack a few moments earlier, and she sat there, feeling the warmth of his hand around hers.
He’d never touched her like that. She was always Joshua’s little sister, and though she was crazy about Cristian, she didn’t realize he’d felt the same way. Was he just traumatized and lonely? She let him hold her hand, filled with confusion.
He drew her hand up his chest, pressing it against his heartbeat. From his closed eyelids, a tear slid down his face. Her blood ran cold. What had happened to her strong and fearless Cristian? Were her parents with the same people who had done this to him? The fear made her heart race. She freed her hand from his and touched the bruises.
The bedroom door opened, and Cristian jumped off the bed, his eyes still clenched shut. A familiar voice growled, “Where are my parents, Cristian?”
Chapter Nine
Escape
CRISTIAN SPOKE for the first time, his voice raspy and desperate, “Take Caina and run!”
Joshua appeared, his onix deactivated and his red eyes furious. He glared at Cristian for a second, though Cristian never opened his eyes, and then shot him with a plasma gun. Cristian dropped to the floor, jerking a few times before he lay still.
Caina ran to Cristian’s body and knelt beside him. “Why did you do that?” she whispered.
Joshua threw a ball of silvery strands at her. He spoke, his voice low and angry, filled with disgust. “Because he can’t be trusted to help us.”
The ball of onix fell in her hands. Her fingers shook as she unwound the strands. She looked up to find Joshua roughly pulling the onix over Cristian’s body. He’d intended to take Cristian with them, she realized. “Why are you taking him with us if he can’t be trusted?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“Because he knows where our parents are.” He whispered back, stretching the onix over Cristian's legs. In the dim light of the room, she peered closer at a red stain on Cristian's knee.
“Wai
t!”
Joshua stopped, the onix stretched in his fingers. “What?”
“He’s injured there. It looks bad.”
Joshua examined the blood and sat back on his heels, pulling a knife out of his pants pocket.
Without a word, he sliced the fabric on Cristian’s leg. White webbing clung to Cristian’s knee, blood seeping through the thin fabric. Joshua narrowed his eyes at it and then before she could stop him, he grasped Cristian’s leg and bent it, moving the knee. Caina grabbed his hand, but he lowered Cristian’s leg down carefully, his scarlet eyes dim and thoughtful. “I kept hearing a sound when he walked,” he said, almost to himself.
“What did you hear?” she asked, staring at the white webbing.
He pulled the cut fabric back over Cristian’s leg. “Cyber joint.”
Confused, she shook her head at him. “He doesn’t have any cyber joints.”
Joshua began pulling the onix over Cristian’s leg, although more gently. “He does now.”
“In one day?”
“Do you know how to put onix on?” he asked her, ignoring her question.
“No.”
“I’ll show you in a minute. You can watch how I do it.”
“What happened to him? Do you know?”
He shook his head at her and continued working the onix over Cristian, rolling him over occasionally until he was completely covered in it. “How could I?”
She knew he was dodging the question, that he’d come to a conclusion and was keeping it to himself.
The onix didn’t seem to have any shape at all, so she just stuck her foot in it. Joshua hissed between his teeth and pulled her hand away. She glared at him. “I hate that sound.”
“Take off your dumb sandals.”
She was silent as she unwrapped the yellow straps, angry at him, and sick inside for Cristian. Even though her brother was cold and methodical, she could tell by his silence about the wound that he was shaken. Once her sandals were off, he showed her how to shape the onix around her body until she was covered in it, head to toe.
“Press any two intersections together and it activates,” he explained, activating Cristian’s onix. She did as he instructed and her body disappeared.
