Paradise 21

by Aubrie Dionne

  Barliss sighed, releasing the emotions he’d been keeping in throughout the conversation. Usually he played the tunes of conversation like Chopin struck keys on the piano, but with the commander, he felt like an amoeba underneath a microscope. Someday the old man would see through his façade and realize his favorite lieutenant wasn’t as strong, sharp-witted, or noble as everyone thought.

  Barliss flexed his shoulders. For now, he was safe. His career rose by solid increments each day. He had Aries back, and he could use the lithium discovery to frame this mission as a personal success instead of a personal humiliation. Smoothing over the front of his uniform, he walked over to the scout ship and watched as a crystal cylinder floated on air down the ramp, guarded by a team of medics.

  A member of the medical team held a life scanner connected to the cylinder by a cord. Barliss stopped them before they could pass. He peered inside the glass, but the foggy lid obscured any details. All he could see was the silhouette of auburn hair splayed out like a sleeping beauty.

  “Dr. Pern, is it? How’s she doing?”

  The head doctor looked up at him as if he intruded on a conversation between her and her readings. She flicked her finger over the touchscreen and the monitor changed to strings of numbers that had no meaning to him.

  “My apologies, Lieutenant. I’m quite busy right now. I’ll provide a report within the hour.”

  Behind them, the engines ignited as the New Dawn broke free of the planet’s gravitational pull. The floor shook under their feet as the intercom came on with a low static buzz. They stood in observance, listening to the incoming message.

  “All officers on deck. Prepare to leave orbit.”

  The doctor cocked an eyebrow as if to prod him into action, but Barliss stood his ground. “Her status, Doctor, if I may.”

  “She’s dehydrated and sunburned, but otherwise her condition is stable.”

  “Good. When will she be awake?”

  “The stun laser hit her square in the back at close proximity.” She gave him a frown of disapproval as if she knew he’d fired it. “It will take another four or five hours for the brunt of the effects to wear away. Even then, she may not be able to discern her surroundings or stand up and walk around for another twenty-four hours at best.”

  “Excellent.” Barliss couldn’t hide his pleasure and didn’t try. “By then, we’ll be far away from Sahara 354.”

  …

  As Striker crested the dune, long cables detached from the ground all around him, rising to holes in the spaceship’s underbelly, like tentacles retracting into a jellyfish.

  “Damn it to hell!” he shouted, then wheezed, gripping a muscle cramp in his side. His legs burned from running through thick sand, chasing the ships as they’d sailed away. He’d tried to hold their pace with the hope of overtaking one before they headed back to space to join their mothership, but the desert had held him back.

  He’d want to leap up and grip one of the cables, but the holes in the ship were too small for him to climb into, even if he’d succeeded. He’d fall to his death when the last of the metal disappeared.

  A sense of helplessness washed over him. The thought of the man in charge having Aries made Striker’s blood rage like he’d been infected with a disease. Finally, he grasped the extent of the horror she ran from. He understood her desperation and the totality of the sacrifice she’d made to save him.

  Collapsing in the sand, he watched the last vessel rise, stirring up mushrooms of dust in the engines’ wake. His heart went with it, the growing distance tearing it from his chest. No matter what he’d said, his loyalty to Aries ran deeper than mere comradeship and mutual interests, and her last act proved it beyond a doubt. If such unconditional love existed, then she was his. To have her ripped from him by a monster of a man was beyond cruel. As the ship became smaller and smaller, he reached his hand up to the sky, as if he could grasp it in his palm and drag it back down. The impossibility of all the obstacles between them clogged his brain and battered his logic so he could hardly breathe.

  Overcome with grief and frustration, he pounded his fists into the ground until the skin grew red and raw. He’d find a way to get her back. He could finish restoring the alien ship. Thanks to Aries, he had the final piece he needed, and he’d get it to fly. Then, all he had to do was find the New Dawn. Aries had said they were traveling to a paradise planet, but that could be anywhere in the unending vastness of space—another impossible obstacle.

  Perhaps they’d left behind a clue to their coordinates. Striker looked over the dunes like a desert wanderer searched for an oasis, but the windblown sand covered all tracks in seconds, and he knew they’d never leave behind a map or a skychart.

  Frustrated, Striker clenched sand in his fists, the particles falling in a stream around his legs. His thoughts flew in overdrive, each one banging against metal doors. The New Dawn would be gone in seconds and leave no trail. So how could he track them?

  The answer came to him so suddenly, Striker shot up from the ground as if he’d heard ten sandworms screech in chorus. Aries had left her locator on the alien ship. If he could reverse the frequencies, he could follow the homing beacon back to the New Dawn.

  The colony ship was now a small speck in the sky, like the glint off the wing of a silver bird. The farther it flew, the slimmer the chances of establishing a connection. Striker threw himself down the dune so fast he almost toppled head over boots. Regaining his balance, he sprinted to the alien wreck. The smaller sun rose at his back as the colossal giant set in front of him, blinding his path with its glorious sunset.

  The white column of the alien ship’s communications tower protruded from the sand like a fallen obelisk. Striker wiped the windblown grit off the hatch and traced the correct hieroglyph to enter. Seconds ticked away as the platform rose.

  He could no longer spot any ships in the sky. They must have breached the final layers of atmosphere into space. The hatch opened, and the platform appeared. Striker jumped down, boots stomping on the floor. As the floor beneath his feet glided down, he thought of all the possible ways to reactivate the locator. A sliver of doubt stung his confidence and he pushed it away. He could decode anything, even the controls to an alien ship—he’d be able to rework a simple homing beacon.

  The locator sat, untouched, in the corner of the table where he’d discarded it after dislodging the cuff from Aries’ arm. Striker dug up all his tools, spreading them across the table like a sea of odd treasures. His hand shook as he opened the control box and prodded the wires inside, too aware that he held his only existing tie to Aries in the palm of his hand. One false move would ruin it forever. After running his fingers over the scratches his tools had caused, he carefully reinserted the energy cell.

  The green light flickered on and then off again, a distant heartbeat revived. Striker used pinpricks to type in commands on the device’s tiny touchscreen. Like anything digital, it had codes, and any code could be manipulated or cracked.

  Memories from his childhood came back to him, long nights spent huddled in the heat of the air shaft with his father, playing intricate puzzle games with strings of numbers. “Find the patterns,” his father whispered in his ear with immense patience, “and follow it through.”

  His frustration would grow as his father sat beside him, encouraging him to solve the riddle, calming his aggravation. “The fabric of time and space is all connected, like a giant being, and you must find those correlations if you’re to ever work your way out of this station.”

  He’d work his way toward Aries now. Within moments, Striker cracked the code. The device beeped once, then the light flicked on and off in a rhythmic pulse. The beacon had latched onto a similar signal from the New Dawn’s mainframe computer. The device gave him a litany of numbers and letters ending with the most important five digits in Striker’s world: the coordinates of the flight path of the New Dawn.

  Rising from the table, Striker rubbed his eyes. The processor was all he needed, so he grabbed hi
s metal rod and prepared himself to fight anything standing in his way.

  …

  Warning lights flashed as Tiff angled the Morphic Marauder into the atmosphere of the ruddy orange planet. Out the main sight panel, she saw that parts of the ship’s skin that had taken asteroid hits were peeling off as they passed through the atmosphere.

  “Computer, bring up the diagnostics on structural integrity.”

  Several outer compartments were leaking pressure at an alarming rate.

  “Everyone on deck,” she yelled through the speaker system. “Now.”

  Reckon stumbled in, holding everything he owned in his arms. She gave him a questioning look, but he only shrugged. “I packed, just in case. Don’t want this stuff blasting off into space.”

  “Some faith you have in my abilities.” Tiff jerked a lever and pulled a few switches down to close off the outer levels. “Where’s everyone else?”

  He strapped his belongings to his seat. “Don’t know.”

  She got back on the intercom. “Our ship is falling apart and collapsing under the pressure. Drifter, Loot, you need to get to the control room.”

  As Reckon buckled himself into his seat, Loot came in with bags of supplies. “Heya, Tiff. I salvaged what I could before we lost the atmosphere in the kitchen.”

  “Good thinking. Now help me check the levels of the engines. We’re falling at a staggering rate.”

  “You bet.” Loot scooted into the chair next to her and switched on two more sight panels. A blur of orange-red gas filled the screen and his face blanched. “Will we make it?”

  “We’ll make it in.” Tiff lowered her voice. “Getting out is another story. Looks like this landing might be the end of the Morphic Marauder.”

  Loot’s jaw tightened and his eyes watered. “What will we do?”

  Tiff bit down on her lip, feeling as though she’d failed him. She’d wanted to give him a better life and instead they were diving nose-first into a hellhole. “Haven’t thought that far ahead, yet. Right now I’m trying to get us on Sahara 354 alive. I’ll think of something, okay?”

  “’Kay.” Loot gave her a reassuring nod.

  As she looked back to the blazing inferno on the screen, her thoughts flashed to her brother and the crooked-toothed grin he’d given her before he’d left on his journey to find a paradise—a journey that had ended with an explosion in space so big, she’d seen it from the bubble of the space station. If she disintegrated this ship in the atmosphere, would she see him again? Would he be proud of what she’d become?

  “Who’s flying this goddamn ship, a monkey?” Drifter jumped on deck with four sets of laser guns strapped to his body.

  Tiff hardened her face. “You think you can do better?”

  “It’s those asteroids.” He spat and sat behind her and Loot, buckling himself in. “They’ve damaged our hull. My ship’s not going to survive, is it?”

  Tiff gritted her teeth, sensitive to the fact he called it his ship and not theirs. He really did mean to abandon her. “I can’t be sure. Maybe we can repair it once we’re on the ground.”

  “A rat’s ass we can.” Drifter’s voice was a growl. “You’ve ruined my ship.”

  Tiff squeezed her hands around the control stick. If Loot weren’t there, she wouldn’t mind crashing his precious ship to show him what a piece of junk it really was and how much he needed her. A warning siren echoed in her ear. She ignored it, releasing the second set of landing wings. Their descent slowed a bit, allowing her more control. Looking at the surface grid on her sight panel, she chose a patch of even sand.

  “Everyone, hold on.”

  The first time the ship hit the ground, it bounced back up, and she wondered how many pieces it left scattered behind it in the sand. Tiff knew they’d have to go back for anything missing, but it was a small price to pay to slow their speed. The second time they hit, she coasted along the sand as it tore at the bottom of the hull, until the edge of the ship rammed into a ridge. They jerked forward on impact, their seat belts holding them in place.

  White silence filled her ears as the ship went dead. Dust settled around them.

  Reckon broke the trance. “I almost had a heart attack.”

  “Great.” Drifter’s face curved into a sardonic smile. “Just great. Now we’re marooned on this desert planet like Striker.”

  “Hold your horses.” Tiff unclasped her seat belt. She tasted blood in her mouth from clamping her teeth on her tongue. Swallowing the metallic taste, she stood up. Although her knees wobbled, she forced herself to straighten. At least they were all alive. “Let’s check the damage. Reckon, get out your life scanner. See if you can find any trace of Striker. Loot, help me with the escape hatch.”

  Drifter sneered. “What? Are you making yourself captain?”

  “No. I’m filling in until the real captain gets his sense back.”

  Drifter spat. “I never lost it. I’m telling the truth of the matter here. We’re stuck with a busted ship on a forsaken desert hell of a planet.”

  “You don’t know that. You haven’t even checked the damage yet.” Tiff signaled to Loot to join her. Loot jumped out of his seat and followed her up the ladder leading to the escape hatch, probably eager to get out of their heated conversation. To her relief, the lever and the panel were intact. She overrode some codes and pulled the latch. The door popped open and pure sunlight streamed in. The touch of the sun on her skin lent her hope. If she could get them to this desert planet, then she could get them to Refuge just as well. All she needed was the coordinates and a working ship.

  Drifter groaned on the deck beneath her as he climbed the ladder to take a look. “My head hurts like hell.”

  “Quit complaining.” Tiff felt like she had two boys to take care of instead of one. “Reckon, you getting anything on the scanner?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll pick up life better outside of these metal walls.”

  “Get your butt up here.” A rush of adrenaline shot through her and her face flushed in the heat of the second sun. “We have a repo mission to do.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ugly Truth

  Aries awoke to searing bright light. She closed her eyes and splotches burst on the back of her lids. Had she floated to heaven? No. She recognized the glint off the chrome walls of the New Dawn. She’d sunk to hell instead, her own personal hell, made by her blunders and poor choices.

  Itching around the IV on her arm, she wondered what could be worse. What if they’d caught Striker as well? He’d be condemned to death on their ship for the crime of sheltering a runaway. They’d set him adrift in space in a small capsule with little food or water. Although no one spoke publically of such a thing, it had happened before.

  She dangled her feet off the hospital bed and tried to calm her dizziness. The door melted away and a nurse appeared holding a needle. “My goodness, you’re awake.”

  Aries didn’t recognize her. They’d probably chosen a stranger on purpose. If she had a nurse she’d known growing up, then her caretaker would be more likely to listen to her plight, maybe even give her a chance to run to the escape pods. In any case, she wasn’t going anywhere. Not this time.

  “Listen, I need to know if another man was escorted onboard. A man not on the New Dawn to begin with.”

  “You mean an Outlander? No, there’s no one like that here.”

  “Never mind.” Aries couldn’t trust her. Even if the nurse was being honest, they wouldn’t tell a lowly nurse about other captives.

  The nurse pushed the touchscreen on the wall, probably alerting the higher-ups of her patient’s status, then walked toward her with hesitant steps, holding the needle up as if in defense. Aries wondered what they’d told her and how much of the truth she knew.

  “You need your rest, my dear.”

  “Like hell I do.”

  The nurse took a wary step back.

  Aries wanted to overpower the woman and break free, but that would only lead to further imprisonment and a more c
onfined cell. It was better to play along, for the moment. Aries offered her arm. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad day.”

  “I bet you have, dear.” She inched toward the door. The last thing Aries wanted was a guard.

  “No, I’m okay. I promise.”

  The older woman eyed her suspiciously and stepped toward her, needle raised. Aries estimated how hard it would be to overtake her and turn the needle around.

  A familiar voice came over the intercom. “Wait. Don’t give her that. I need her awake.”

  Barliss. Aries searched the corners of the room for a camera.

  “Yes, Lieutenant.” The woman backed toward the door.

  The chrome slipped away and Barliss appeared, dressed as if he’d come to pick her up for a date. Instead of a military uniform, he wore a civilian suit, pressed perfectly, and his fedora tilted at just the right angle over his right eye. Underneath the hat, he’d gelled his hair so much it reminded her of wet plastic. Aries’ insides shriveled up just looking at him.

  “Leave us,” he said to the nurse.

  “Yes, sir.” The older woman bowed slightly and Aries wondered how powerful Barliss had become while she’d been on safari in the desert.

  After the woman left, he turned to her and Aries wilted under his gaze. So many emotions lurked there: betrayal, hatred, suspicion. They were all justified. His words were stilted. “Are you well?”

  “As much as possible.”

  She moved to stand, but with a gesture of his hand, he indicated she should remain sitting on the side of the bed. He chose to sit on the chair by the door. He took off his fedora and cleared his throat, running his fingers gingerly along the rim.

  Aries knew that nothing Barliss did was tentative. This was all an act. She braced herself for the real reason he’d come.

  “At first, when you ran away, I thought you’d deceived me during the entire courtship, making me look like a fool. I have to admit, I hated you for it. The doctors say you suffer from a condition in which you blur fantasy with reality. They reassure me with the correct medication you can—”