Last of Her Name

by Jessica Khoury

  “Can you keep going?” I ask.

  He nods. “But I won’t be able to do much more. Too weak.”

  Right. He hasn’t had food in days.

  “Come on,” I say. “Hangar’s this way.”

  “What’s going on? How long was I out?”

  “Four days. I made a friend, Dr. Luka, and he’s waiting for us. I hope.”

  Hearing footsteps, I yank Riyan into a maintenance closet, just as a group of soldiers rounds the corner ahead. The space is crammed with machines and pipes, the air hot and stifling. We huddle against the door, listening to them run past. I can just make out Zhar’s voice crackling through their comm patches.

  “Can you run?” I whisper to Riyan.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Stars, he’s barely even standing. There’s no way we’ll make it to the hangar.

  Unless …

  I turn around and face the machines humming behind us. “All right, what’ve we got here?”

  An air filtration system, a water pump, an electrical panel …

  “Ooh, what’s this?” I tap a red button on the wall, enclosed in a clear case. There’s a label over it, but it’s so faded I can’t make out the words, just a warning below it.

  Riyan frowns. “It says don’t press except in case of emergencies.”

  “I’d say this is an emergency.”

  “You don’t even know what it does!”

  “Riyan, Riyan,” I mutter, unclasping my multicuff to pry open the case. “If there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I always press the red button.”

  “Wait—”

  I punch it.

  A holoscreen pops up, with a thread of data. I scan it, then feel goose bumps ripple up my arms.

  “Oh. Oh no.”

  “Stacia? What did you do?”

  I back away toward the door. “We have to go. Now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I just set off an emergency distress signal. This asteroid is beaming its location across the galaxy.” Blast! I was hoping it would be some sort of anti-fire system or a power shutdown. This is worse, way worse.

  His eyes grow wide. “The vityazes—”

  “Will swarm on this place like snapteeth on a wounded mantibu calf.”

  “I don’t know what either of those things are, but I get the gist.”

  I throw open the door to see the same soldiers running past us again, only this time they’re heading the other way. Toward the hangar. One locks eyes with me as he runs past, and he looks surprised, but he doesn’t stop.

  Because we’re not the main threat anymore.

  They’re preparing for battle.

  I drag Riyan out and we limp after the soldiers. The weakened tensor hobbles with an arm over my shoulder, and I strain under his weight.

  “We have to get out of this system before the vityazes arrive,” I say.

  “Really? I thought we might hang around, see if we couldn’t settle all this over a nice cup of coffee.”

  Was that humor? I didn’t know he was capable of it. Figures that it would only appear under life-threatening circumstances.

  Grinning, even as my pulse pounds with adrenaline-spiked fear, I haul him around another corner and see the hangar door at the far end, what seems a light-year away.

  “Anya!” a voice screams. “Anya, what have you done?”

  I look back to see Zhar at the far end of the corridor. She looks unraveled, hair spiking up, clothes disheveled.

  “Sorry!” I yell, desperately throwing all my strength into getting us to that door before Zhar can catch up. “You should really label things better around here!”

  Riyan pulls his arm from my shoulder and limps ahead. “I think I can hold them off once we’re in.”

  “You’d better!”

  We burst into the hangar and the tensor pulls away from me. Riyan’s staff is a blur, his robes swirling as he spins to bring down the rock above the doors. The sound is like thunder, echoing through the hangar. Massive slabs of asteroid break away and crash to the ground, sealing off the corridor and sending a cloud of dust into the air.

  “Enough!” I shout. “We don’t want to scuttle the place! There are kids in there!”

  “There were kids on Emerault’s moon when the Empire destroyed it,” he snarls, but he relents. We run across the smooth stone floor toward the Valentina.

  The rocks Riyan brought down buy us time, but not much. Already the soldiers are firing through the gaps.

  I spot Dr. Luka standing in the hatch of the clipper, waving at us. We run toward him, Riyan using his staff like a crutch. Pilots are running between the ships, shouting and prepping for launch, but when they see Riyan they shout and take a few shots at us.

  We reach the clipper in a hail of Prismic energy pulses, and rush up the ramp to tumble inside, landing at the doctor’s feet. He grabs my hand and helps me up.

  “I’m not even going to ask what went wrong,” he sighs. “We have to get out of here before Zhar breaks through your tensor’s barricade. If she reaches the net activator, a laser shield will seal off the exit and we’ll be fried. I disabled it, but she can override my command.”

  The clipper hums to life, lights tracing the exterior, the engine snarling. The Valentina seems as eager to get off this rock as I am. I scurry up the ladder to the main deck, and see Mara on the balcony above, operating the controls.

  I call to her, and she glances down.

  “To be honest, Princess, this is not how I expected to spend my morning.” Despite her light tone, she looks stressed, sweat glistening on her brow. I wonder what her father must have said to get her on board. When I talked to her, she made her loyalty to Zhar pretty clear.

  “Glad you could join us.”

  “I wasn’t about to let my dad fly out of here alone. He can barely operate a forklift. Besides, this is a J-Class clipper. It’s not every day you get a chance to handle a beauty of this caliber.”

  I could kiss her for that. Finally, someone who gets it.

  “Princess, if you could handle the air lock doors, I’ll get the engine—”

  But I don’t hear what she says next, because my eyes settle on a stretcher hovering over the floor, its occupant strapped down.

  My knees go weak.

  “H-how?” I whisper.

  The doctor climbs up from the air lock, helping Riyan up with him. “When they brought him to me, I thought he was dead. Had the crematorium all fired up when I noticed his fingers twitch. Lucky thing, or he’d be space dust right now.” With a grunt, the doctor pulls Riyan inside, the tensor stumbling. “His aeyla bones are denser than ours and stopped the pulse from killing him. But several ribs are broken and there’s been internal damage.”

  I approach the stretcher slowly, every hair on end. Pol’s face is pale, his breathing shallow. He doesn’t look good, but he’s alive.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “I tried,” says the doctor. “Didn’t you get my note?”

  I think back. “You compared him to the amethyst gambit. You as good as confirmed he was dead!”

  “Anya, think. How does the gambit play out?”

  Oh.

  I let out a breath, shutting my eyes. In Triangulum, you have the chance to return your first sacrificed piece to the board just before the endgame begins. By letting your amethyst warrior go, you can later bring it back into play.

  “You could have been a little more specific,” I grumble.

  “I couldn’t risk Zhar finding out, and she was careful not to let me be alone with you. I think she always knew I’d choose you over her. She didn’t trust me.”

  “You risked your life to save him.”

  “He’s important to you, Princess, and he’s loyal.” He walks to Pol and stares down grimly. “You need to get out of this system and find someplace to lie low for a while. Find a physician for your friend, and quickly. He won’t last long in this condition.”

  “Dad?” Mar
a runs down the steps from the control deck, her eyes wide. “You’re coming with us!”

  “If Zhar reaches that shield, you won’t escape here. I’m going to hold her off.”

  “But, Dad! She’ll space you! No!”

  “Mara, my love.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite daughter?”

  “I’m you’re only daughter!” She pulls back, eyes wide and afraid.

  He chuckles. “Find your place among the stars, Mara. Knowing you are out there, free, that is enough for me.”

  “Dad, no. I won’t—”

  He presses something to her arm.

  Ah, the old sleep patch trick.

  Mara slumps in her father’s arms, but he passes her to me. I grunt, struggling to hold the girl up. “If you go back,” I say, “she’ll never forgive you. Or me. Please stay. We can find another way.”

  Dr. Luka looks at me with watering eyes. “I’m trusting her into your care, Princess. I once swore to protect your family. Will you do the same for mine?”

  “I swear it,” I whisper. “But, Doctor, you don’t have to do this—”

  “Hush, now.” He swallows hard, his eyes locked on Mara. “You don’t have much time. They’re almost through. I wish I could explain to you, Anya, but you have to listen to me now: the Firebird. Zhar’s got it all wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Now his eyes flick to me. “You’ve had it all this time, Princess. You—”

  He’s cut short as a loud crash shakes the clipper. I curse, thinking the ship’s been hit, but then Dr. Luka climbs down to the air lock and looks out.

  “Zhar’s blasted through the rocks! Go, go, go! I can’t hold her off for long!” He vanishes through the hatch, and Riyan rushes to shut it behind him.

  “Get us off this rock, tensor,” I whisper.

  “You got it.” He rises into the air and lands on the control deck, his robes settling around him.

  I grab Pol’s stretcher and activate the magnetic locks on the bottom, clamping it securely to the floor. Then I drag Mara to a seat and strap her in. On a screen connected to the ship’s rear cameras, I see Dr. Luka standing in front of the shield controls. Soldiers are running toward him. He shoots, and they duck for cover. But then Zhar breaks through, furious and ruthless. She fires on the doctor, and he retreats behind a ship.

  “Go, Riyan!” I shout as I climb to the control deck. “She’s almost at the shield!”

  Zhar crosses the floor in three quick steps. She reaches for the controls.

  And is blown off her feet as Riyan blasts the thrusters. The soldiers go skidding away, crashing against the far wall. That’s all I have time to see before we shoot down the tunnel. I fall into a seat and strap in. The Valentina rattles as we accelerate through the rock chute, and I grind my teeth together and watch Pol shake on his stretcher.

  Then we burst out of the asteroid and into open space.

  “Holy stars,” I breathe.

  I count the Union ships as they drop from warp: nine, ten, eleven. All destroyers, all muscled and bristling. I’d expected a few scout ships, but not this.

  Not a war fleet.

  There must have been something in the signature beamed out by the asteroid base that gave away its identity. The Committee knows this is a Loyalist stronghold, and they’re coming in hot. To warp into this system with that much speed means burning up entire Prisms, billions and billions of units’ worth of the crystals.

  “They’ll wipe out the asteroid,” I say. “All those kids …”

  Riyan shakes his head. “The Committee will want to take everyone alive for questioning. They’ll be all right, for now.”

  But still the blood drains from my face and I feel nauseated, watching the ships close in on the asteroid. A few Loyalist fighters swoop past us to engage the enemy, but they’re shot down by Prismic pulses from the destroyers. All those pilots from the bar, who were laughing and placing bets over geeball just days ago—gone. The ships burst in front of us, fiery, silent explosions that shimmer and then fade like fireworks.

  What have I done?

  The Valentina’s controls blare an alarm as one of the Union ships gets a missile lock on us.

  “Warp, Riyan!” I shout. “NOW!”

  Cursing, Riyan quickly throws a lever, engaging the Takhdrive.

  We dive into the ocean of stars.

  Once the ship settles into warp, the adrenaline that had fueled me through our wild escape evaporates. I’m left drained, limbs trembling, desperately wanting to collapse and sleep.

  But first I have to check on Pol. I unbuckle and stand, and as I make my way toward the stretcher, Riyan lands silently on the floor in front of me, making me jump.

  “Riyan!” I raise a hand. “Seriously, you have to give a warning or something before you do that.”

  “Sorry,” he murmurs, looking abashed. “I just wanted say thank you. For getting me out of there.”

  I grimace. “I got you in there in the first place.”

  “You could have left me, and then you might have gotten away with the doctor.”

  “That wasn’t even an option.”

  He stares at me as I edge past him. Pol is prone on his stretcher, his skin cold and clammy. His lashes flick like he’s caught in the throes of some terrible dream.

  “He’s in bad shape,” Riyan says.

  “He needs a physician.”

  “And we need a safe place to lie low.”

  I glance up at him. “You have something in mind?”

  He hesitates. “The tensors maintain a gravitational ripple in the space around Diamin, making it impossible for any outsiders to approach. It’s the safest place in the galaxy, if you can get in. And I can get us in.”

  “Then take us there.”

  A groan from the other sofa draws our attention. Mara is stirring, the sleep patch wearing off. She sits up, pressing a hand to her face. I grab a canteen of water; I know from experience that her mouth will be dry as sand.

  But Mara ignores the water, instead shoving off the sofa to teeter on her feet. She looks around a moment, and then her face freezes. Her eyes go flat.

  “No,” she whispers. “Tell me he didn’t go back. Tell me he’s alive.”

  Riyan and I exchange looks.

  “Mara … I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “This is your fault,” she says.

  I stiffen, my mouth opening but unable to form a reply. She’s right. I’m the reason her father is dead. And now she’s stuck with me, at least until we reach Diamin. She didn’t ask for any of this. Shame clogs my throat; I look away, unable to meet her eyes.

  She limps past me, her jaw set. The door to the back cabins is open, and she disappears through it, clearly wanting to be alone. I rub my face, wishing I’d never dragged her or her father into this. But then they’d just be prisoners of the Committee now, also thanks to me. It seems I can’t leave a place without first destroying it.

  “She’ll need time,” Riyan says. “Let her be.”

  I nod, and he heads off to the galley, saying he’ll make coffee for us both.

  With a sigh, I lie on the floor beside Pol. His hand dangles over the side of the stretcher. I reach up and hold it tight. I can’t even feel his pulse in his wrist.

  “Oh, Pol,” I whisper. “Come back to me.”

  When I open my eyes sixteen hours later, groggy with sleep, the bridge is quiet, lights dimmed. Pol is still unconscious, but his breathing is steady. I gently extricate my fingers from his. Rising to stretch, I study his face, searching for any sign of improvement. If anything, he seems even paler.

  Mara and Riyan are in their cabins, presumably asleep. The ship is quiet, frozen while the universe flows around it, a stone in an infinite river. The hum of the Takhdrive pulses steadily, and up on the control deck, the spinning Prism throws beads of light that dance across the ceiling.

  I climb to the upper deck and sit in front of the control board, my feet drawn up so my
knees tuck under my chin. Staring at the spinning crystal until my eyes burn, I feel a stab of anger.

  “All this,” I whisper, “because of you.”

  The Prism spins on, uncaring and indifferent, churning out the energy that threads through every circuit and wire on the Valentina. And if Zhar is right, the crystal is still connected to its source, the great, mysterious Prismata lost somewhere in the cosmos. Zhar wants it, Volkov wants it, and both of them are willing to kill everyone I love to get it.

  I lean forward, the brightness of the spinning shard burning itself onto my eyes, so that even when I blink, I see it shining on the backs of my eyelids. There are more colors in it than I’d first thought; instead of just gold, it’s orange and violet and red, a stormy sunset bound in exquisite, hard-edged symmetry.

  Stacia.

  My spine tingles and I jerk back, blinking hard.

  For a strange moment, I could have sworn I felt … something. A whisper, a tendril in my mind, a ghostly caress on my shoulder.

  My own name uttered.

  “I’m losing it,” I mutter, looking away from the Prism so my eyes can clear.

  My brain is scrambled, and no surprise. I’ve been running on panic and dread for the past two weeks. Maybe Diamin is just what I need—a safe, peaceful harbor to catch my breath. If everyone there moves as silently as Riyan does, it has to be the quietest planet in the galaxy.

  I flip through the nav system, studying the warp path. It’ll be sixteen days till we reach the moon of Diamin. Will Pol last that long?

  Pulling up a holo of the moon, I study the spinning orb. It hovers beside its larger, uninhabitable planetary companion. The pair is so distant from its sun that Diamin only exists in twilight, and that only a quarter of the time. Mostly, it’s dark. All I know about it from my studies is that it’s cold, forested, and unwelcoming. Our lessons always rushed through the Diamin chapters, with an almost superstitious fear of the little moon. The Cold Moon, it’s been called, both for its extreme temperatures and for its secrets.

  I’d always thought Amethyne was as far from anywhere as you could get. Turns out, Diamin is twice that. Maybe that’s part of the reason tensors always had so much trouble fitting in with the rest of the Belt—besides their ability to manipulate the fabric of space-time, of course.