Space Trek (Three Novels, Three Worlds, Three Journeys Book 1)

by Jo Zebedee

  “Are you all okay?” asked Lichio. “I’m sorry, I should have been more careful in how I said that.”

  “It wasn’t Kare’s fault,” blurted Silom, and almost kicked himself for doing so. Lichio had been nosing around for months now, and he hadn’t risen to it.

  “I didn’t say it was his fault. I said it happened because of him,” said Lichio, and his manner, his offhand way of dealing with it, made Silom respond.

  “He was leaving because of Liane, to keep her– us– safe.”

  “He could have left before.”

  “You don’t know what it was like.”

  “So, tell me.”

  Tell him what? The fear of someone finding out, of coming home and finding troops waiting for him? The worry that a knock at the door would be the army? The knowledge that he had a life and a job and his mate couldn’t even leave the house? The secret part of him that resented Kare turning up on their doorstep and changing everything? It wasn’t fair, to feel like that. Kare hadn’t had any choice. He’d been a kid, on the run. But what had happened wasn’t fair, either. The image of his mother, lying cold on the ground, came to him. It had been months since he’d allowed himself to think about her, and Liane, and the whole mess on Dignad. Lichio waited, silent, and he knew he wasn’t getting out of this office until he gave him something to quash the thought he was under Kare’s power and didn’t have a mind of his own.

  “We had to move all the time, we couldn’t bring anyone back,” he said, picking his words. He could tell them what they wanted to hear, but not the secret in the heart of him. “From the moment he arrived, we had to be careful– more than careful.”

  Lichio cocked his head. “Must have been a pain, for all of you.”

  “We got used to it.”

  “Even so, you must have found it hard. A saint would have– glory boy turning up and your life changing. Come on, you were– what– eight?”

  “Nine,” said Silom. He looked at Lichio, saw his eyes were sympathetic, not judgmental, and the words spilled out of him. “My dad died when I was five, and it had just been me and my mother. So, yeah, it was hard, and no one told me anything about why we had to move, only that I had a cousin and I wasn’t to say. My mother was really strict about it and you didn’t go against her when she really dug in.” He paused. “But it was harder for Kare.”

  “So when did you find out who he was?”

  Silom took a moment to count it back. “When I was sixteen. I caught him practising his powers and it all came out.”

  “Exciting, was it?”

  Anything but. “Not especially.”

  “Really? It’s just, it must have been something– finding out you’re living with the Empress’ son.”

  “It was… different,” Silom said. It was hard to explain his relief at finally knowing, and the fear at understanding the stakes involved. “But I’d always known there was some big secret, so it didn’t change much.”

  “Something did, though,” said Lichio. “Otherwise, presumably, you’d both still be on Dignad.”

  Silom took a breath. “I met Liane, and it became serious.”

  Lichio nodded, his eyes understanding. “Bad enough keeping a secret in just one house…”

  “Yes,” said Silom. “When I brought her round to meet my mother, Kare stayed out of the way. Then one night we had a fight, and she stormed out. She bumped into Kare, skulking round the back, waiting for her to go.” He looked down at his hands. “So, I had to tell her this was my cousin, and he was sitting there, looking terrified. She must have known something was wrong. Anyway, a couple of days later, Kare told me he was going.” He paused. It was good to talk about it and be honest; it felt like something he’d carried inside, something that had pulled him down, was lifting. He met Lichio's eyes and refused to look away. “If I’m honest, I was relieved. Glad it was over. Even though I knew it was a hell of a thing to do– walk out at seventeen with a backpack, no ID, relying on a Dignadian shipyard owner for your life. But I was glad– I was getting my life back. You understand?”

  “Yes, I can completely understand. But it went wrong.”

  “Yes. When I knew, I tried to contact Liane, but she wasn’t there. Later, I reached her dad and told him to get her out, that they’d be looking for her, and it was serious, and he said he would. He promised he would…”

  “Maybe he did. All we know is she’s not on Dignad.”

  “Gods, I hope so.” He glanced up, and saw nothing in the other man’s eyes to say he’d done the wrong thing. “I wouldn’t have got off the planet but for Kare. But Mum didn’t, and Liane didn’t. He saved the wrong one.”

  Lichio met his eyes. “So why hang your life around him?”

  Was this man stupid? “He came back for me when he didn't have to.” And that made up for some of the anger. He’d been worth someone risking their life for. But it went further than that, deeper, into the bond formed as boys, a brotherhood moulded by his mother. “Besides, I have Mum to repay the Empress for, maybe Liane too, and Kare is the best chance of doing that.” He paused; he’d said enough. More than enough. “Sir, may I be excused? I need to pack.”

  Lichio nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Silom stood up, saluted, and walked to the door.

  “Silom.”

  “Yes, sir.” He turned back.

  Lichio’s face twisted with something dangerously close to pity. “I’ll keep your transfer request active.”

  Finally. “Thank you, sir. Just for the record, I hate the cold. You could list that as another reason.”

  ***

  Lichio waited for Silom to leave before getting up to go to the project room. He stepped outside, wiped his forehead, and ducked onto the jungle path. A group of recruits passed him, their packs slamming against them as they ran. Poor buggers: the heat was murderous.

  He stopped and took a slug of water. Something rustled to the side of him. He lowered the bottle and watched the jungle, his training coming back, but there was nothing there. He started to walk, a little quicker, and heard it again– following him, close by. His hand snaked towards his blaster. Still nothing. He could see where the path opened out, and sped up a little more.

  Hands grabbed him. He twisted, trying to reach his weapon, but they held him too firmly. They pulled him back, into the dense jungle.

  “Shit…”

  Something covered his mouth, and his throat was pushed back, making him breathe in against it. The jungle above him blurred, the greens fading into one great wall of colour, and his legs went from under him….

  The sound of birdsong, high and repetitive, woke him. He opened his eyes and found himself in a jungle clearing, propped against a tree. The heat had fallen and he didn’t know if he’d been unconscious for a long time, or if it was just cooler under the canopy. He tried to stand, and found he was able to, although his legs were weak and shaky.

  He looked around; there was no one there. Had he dreamt it? Passed out in the heat? His mouth curled: passed out in the heat, crawled somewhere and propped himself up? He doubted it…. He turned, saw something hanging from a leiandi-palm nearby and pulled it down: a message filche, one of the projector-type. He activated it, and the message streamed in front of him, its details displayed against the clearing’s floor. He gulped and looked around. A fortune. He checked the figures again and did a mental calculation in his head. He could buy his own pleasure planet for that, or leave the army, not have to fight because he was in the Banned and it was what he was brought up to do. With this sort of money, he could get work as an ambassador. No one would know he wasn’t from the higher echelons with this, and he could change things from within and fight clever.

  He gulped, as the final temptation hit. If he was free from the Banned, he could be honest about who he was and not care what Eevan thought. The idea of that freedom was dizzying, and he had to wait for a moment, in the still clearing, interrupted only by bird calls, before he could read
the filche again, this time to the last line.

  He clicked the message off. He’d known who they wanted, of course he had, but not what they might offer…. Anything he wanted– that’s what it said. It didn’t have to be money.

  He stood in the quiet of the jungle, and knew the meaning of temptation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “I’m finished,” said Lichio. He closed the screen he was working on and glanced over at Kare. “So should you.”

  “It’s astounding you haven’t gone already.”

  “That’s not the right way to do it.”

  “Do what?” Kare stifled a yawn.

  “You should say, ‘thank you, sir, for staying and helping me with my not inconsiderable backlog.’ ”

  “Thank you,” said Kare. He paused, before adding, “Sir.”

  Lichio smiled, as Kare had known he would, at the standing joke; he hated calling Lichio sir when he was technically over the project. That Lichio was the nearest thing to a friend here at the base, now Silom was gone, didn’t make it any easier.

  “Anyway, you’ve seen my bunk,” said Kare. “There isn’t a worse one, or a shittier barracks, in the whole group. Remind me that, next time I go over the colonel’s head.”

  “Hard luck.” Lichio gave the smug smile of a man who had his own bedroom. “Do you want to come for a drink? I’m meeting Sonly.”

  Kare rolled his eyes: no amount of explaining that pushing him and Sonly together was a bad idea had made a difference. “No, I’ll finish the last stuff and go back to the barracks later,” he lied. He wasn’t sure if Lichio knew he spent every night in the project room. If he did, he’d never commented, and Kare hadn’t had to admit he was too frightened to sleep where he should be, in case he woke to find himself being taken from his bunk. At least here he could lock the door.

  “Of course you will.” Lichio’s face was expressionless, his feelings bland, hard to read. Kare could, if he wanted, have delved a little deeper. He didn’t.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kare said. “Early, please. Or at least on time.”

  “Naturally.”

  Kare bit back his response; the day Lichio was early, he might faint. Yesterday, he’d sent a lame message about having a message to do at the barracks, and hadn’t shown up for the afternoon.

  Lichio left, locking the door behind him, and Kare leaned back in his seat. At least it was comfortable; he’d insisted on that. He looked at the calculations spread across the screen in front of him, and closed it down. He’d learned, from experience, he couldn’t do the computations needed when he was tired, and a single mistake could mean the system failed.

  He got up and lifted a bundled-up blanket from the corner. Wrapping it round his shoulders, he snuggled back into his seat, his feet propped up on another, and closed his eyes. He’d just started to doze off, a dream about figures– sums, sums, and more bloody sums– taking over his mind, when a soft sound woke him.

  He sat up and looked around. The room was quiet, the only light coming from the banks of suspended screens. Plenty of places to hide. He cast out with his powers, but could feel nothing. He settled back and heard the noise again. This time, he realised it was a rap on the door. He got up; if it was an attacker, they were unlikely to be knocking.

  He went to the door, saw Sonly through the glass, and paused. Why was she here? He thought about slinking back to his seat, but her eyes met his, making his stomach turn over in the lazy way it did every time he saw her. He opened the door a little and stepped back. She smiled and he smiled back, before reminding himself this was going nowhere. Whatever Sonly wanted, it wasn’t what he had to offer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was looking for Lichio.”

  “He’s gone.”

  She pushed the door fully open and came into the room. “When?”

  Kare looked at the screen next to him and checked the time. “About half an hour ago.”

  Sonly touched the screen, which filled with figures. “It’s like another language,” she said. “And yet Lichio told me you’re close to doing what you said you would.” She gave a small smile. “I’m glad. I would hate to have gone over the colonel’s head for no reason.”

  Kare didn’t answer, and the silence lengthened. He was too warm, and not just because of the stuffy room. He’d been on the project team for six months now, and had met Sonly most days during it: in their sessions– ended now, and he suspected she was just as relieved as him– or with Lichio, or… or because you went looking for her. He pushed the thought away, angry with himself.

  She walked around the room, and he tried to think of a reason to refuse her, but couldn’t. This was her organisation, she was practically on their board, and their funds were paying for his project. Rjala’s project. It still rankled with him, that they hadn’t let him keep the credit of it being his creation. They’d left him as a private– outranked by everyone else in the team– and called him a specialist advisor. He wondered if they were trying to set him up to fail, or if he was being paranoid. Most likely, the colonel was still pissed off at him.

  Sonly reached his chair and lifted the blanket. “You sleep here?”

  He wanted to deny it, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing. “Sometimes.” He took the blanket off her. “It’s better than barracks. A lot better than my bunk. That’s all.”

  “You can’t run this without sleep,” she said. “I’ll speak to the colonel.”

  Kare nearly groaned at the probable outcome of that. “Don’t; it’s fine. The chair is very comfy, and I sleep well.”

  She reached out, surprising him by cupping his chin and turning his head so it was lit by the nearest screen. His breath stopped as she leaned in and looked at him. He wrenched his head away.

  “I don’t think you sleep well,” she said. “To be honest, you look like you sleep like shit.”

  “Thanks. You know how to make someone feel good.”

  She giggled, her mouth tipped upwards, her eyes glittering as they reflected the light and she was… lovely. That was all, just lovely. He stepped back and leaned against a desk, his hands tightening on the edge of it.

  “I sleep badly no matter where I am.” He looked down, annoyed at telling her that. The silence in the room expanded until he raised his eyes to her. She’d stopped giggling and was watching him instead. He wanted to look away, but didn’t; instead, he clenched his hands even tighter.

  “Why don’t you sleep?” she asked.

  He waited a moment, and then, amazingly, found himself saying, “I have nightmares.”

  “What sort?” Her words were soft, full of concern. It had been so long since someone had spoken to him with real concern, not since Marine had gone, and it moved him in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t know if it was because of Sonly and how she made him feel, or his loneliness. He tried to joke. “At the moment, sums.”

  She waited, silent, and he swallowed. When he opened his mouth again the words flowed out, tripping over each other.

  “About what lies ahead: being chased into a corner, my psyche failing, and not being able to help myself.” He clutched the desk so tightly it became painful. “About ending up crazy like my dad.”

  She took his left hand from the side of the desk. He looked down at their entwined hands and tried to pull away but she moved closer, so that the heat of her body warmed him.

  “They’re only dreams,” she said. “They can’t hurt you.”

  “You’re right.” He took his hand away, and tried to put a little distance between them. “Lichio stayed late, but he went–”

  “He said he’d call me when he was done, and when he didn’t, I thought I’d come and get him…”

  Kare’s eyes narrowed, and he made a mental note to have a long, pointed talk with Lichio in the morning about minding his own business and not Kare’s. She was still standing close to him, and he put out his hands to move her. He touched her shoulders and before he could t
hink about it, before he knew he’d moved, his lips were on hers. She pulled him closer and kissed him back, her mouth open, hungry. He put his arms around her, melting into the kiss, and for a moment there was nothing other than her hands on the small of his back, her body tight against him, and her kiss, lips soft, opening under his and– you can’t.

  He pulled away. “We can’t do this…”

  “I know, I agree, I’ve tried not to.” Her voice was small in the darkness.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have– ” The confusion was coming off her in waves, filling his mind. Sadness, too. He shook his head, and it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. “It’s just not possible. I’m sorry.”

  She turned from him, and he thought it was to hide her upset. She couldn’t, not from him. He followed her to the door, closed it behind her and locked it again.

  “Goodnight,” he said into the darkness. He went back to his seat and pulled the blanket round, knowing he’d been right and couldn’t let her come any closer. Except… another part of him needed someone to be close to. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tight, wanting to know he was doing the right thing, that he was following the right path, and wishing he had someone to ask.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Kare sat up, gasping for breath, the blanket clutched to him. The nightmare had been so real– it always was– and he struggled to remind himself it was a dream. It wasn’t even his dream: the pit, Beck, the torture all came from his dad’s visions. Even so, in the dead of night, it was hard to be convinced.