The Culling (The Culling Trilogy Book 1)

by Ramona Finn

  Saturn shifted an inch. Then two. Then three. And there… The edge of Saturn’s halo kissed the edge of the sun from our view. And oh, what a view. The sun set the halo on fire, turning Saturn’s rings into a golden, burning half-smile. And still our ship kept moving. The planet crept in front of the sun, taking bigger and bigger bites out of the most powerful thing in our solar system.

  I held my breath, gripped the steely edge of the port mirror so hard my knuckles turned white. It was gonna… it was gonna…

  Bingo.

  “Oh my God,” I muttered as the ship shifted Saturn into a perfect eclipse over the sun. We were plunged into blackness except for the thin ring of light that surrounded the planet, that absolutely set Saturn’s rings on fire. Saturn wore a burning crown, a shade of gold I’d never seen before and would never see again. It was perfect. Gloriously gorgeous.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered again, and a tear traced its way down my cheek as I watched the sight. I brushed the tear off myself brusquely, unwilling to look away from the sight before me, but I pressed that tear between my thumb and finger in amazement. When was the last time I’d cried? When I’d left for Datapoint training? When Daw and Treb had gripped the pockets of my pants with their grubby hands and begged me not to leave?

  I squeezed the tear once more and hoped my sisters could feel my love for them. How I would do anything for them. I’d long ago lost track of Jupiter’s orbit around the sun.

  The ship shifted then, seeming to resume its normal course, and Saturn dipped upwards in the window, out of our view. The sun was just the sun again.

  I took a deep breath and realized that I’d basically been frozen for the last half hour. The incredible sight had held me captive completely.

  “Wow,” was all I could manage as Oort and I turned toward one another.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “That was definitely the best one I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ve seen other eclipses?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “They’re like a gift from Kupier. When we’ve done something particularly hard or grueling, or if we lose someone, he tries to find something like that that he can give us.”

  My brain blanked, unable to comprehend what Oort was saying to me. “A gift.”

  He nodded.

  “From your leader.”

  Oort nodded again.

  “Because…”

  Now Oort looked at me like I was stupid. “Because he’s a good person. Who wants us to know he appreciates what we do.”

  My mouth dropped open, either in shock or because the eclipse had short wired my brain.

  “Why are you in my bedroom with a Datapoint?”

  Oort and I whirled around at Kupier’s voice in the doorway. He leaned there, his plain face quirked into that smile of his, one of his shoulders against the door jamb. It hit me all at once just how tall he actually was. He had to slouch considerably to stand in that short doorway, but it didn’t look awkward. It looked easy. And comfortable. He always looked comfortable, I realized.

  My eyes skated over that face of his, his overlarge nose and the hair that had grown in even more since I’d first met him. And a feeling I’d never felt before took me by surprise.

  My stomach tightened. Just once. Like a fist had reached inside me and given it a squeeze. I didn’t like the feeling, but just like that it was gone. It left me with a heart that beat just a little too fast and palms that were just a touch too warm.

  “I wanted her to see it,” Oort replied, a bit of defiance in his voice.

  Kupier ducked his head. “Alright.” His eyes shot to mine. “What did you think?”

  I cleared my throat and flattened myself back against the wall as he stepped into the room. It was really small with the three of us. “It was pretty.”

  Was that my voice? Sounding all… girly? Couldn’t be.

  Kupier nodded and sat down on his messy bed; the springs squeaked and I watched in detached interest as he toed off one of his boots and then the next. “Yeah. We were lucky that Saturn was in Taurus.”

  I furrowed my brow. What the hell did that mean?

  He looked up at my befuddled expression and chuckled to himself.

  “That Saturn was tipped like that,” he clarified.

  I just continued to stare at him with my brow drawn down. Because he’d gone out of his way, literally, to give his crew the gift of an eclipse. Because he’d asked them to give up their weapons. To show me and Sullia that they meant us no physical harm.

  My eyes can see nothing but the burning blue light. I can’t move my hands or feet anymore. It’s been days. I know it. My stomach is beyond hunger. The integrated tech is a constant, screaming whisper in my brain. It tells me what to do. I say no. It tells me what to do. I say no. It tells me what to do. I say no, but… I don’t slam the door on the tech. I let it in just a little bit. Instead of letting it take me over, I let it twist with me. With my brain patterns. Suddenly, the tech stops hurting me. It doesn’t feel good. But it’s not hurting me. I’m syncing. I’m syncing.

  I expect the light to shut off. I expect to be told I’m good for what I’ve done. I’ve finally synced. But the light stays on for eight more hours. No one comes for me.

  This gift from a captain to his underlings made no sense to me at all. What a waste. He’d wasted fuel and time and energy. All for what?

  The fiery gorgeousness of what I’d just witnessed burned through me, though. I thought of the tear that was just now drying on my finger. I studied Kupier’s plain face as he said something to Oort that I didn’t listen to. What an idiot. What an… unusual man. His eyes shot over to mine just once. With that perfect, glowing blue that made his face anything but ordinary.

  It was official. I didn’t understand him at all. I’d been living with Datapoints for so long, in a way, that I was spoiled. I always knew what they were going to do. Their actions were logical. Once you figured out a Datapoint’s main goal, you knew exactly what to expect from them. Sullia looked out for number one. Dahn wanted to be the best, to excel. But Kupier? I had no idea what to expect from Kupier.

  “Well, I’m glad you liked it.” His voice was gruff and tired. I wondered if he’d slept at all yet.

  Toeing out of his socks, he reached back and pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion and draped it over the iron post of one bed. My stomach did that tightening thing again. I didn’t like it at all. He had a tattoo on his chest that was dark and blurry as my eyes skated across it. I desperately wanted to see what it was, but for some reason, my eyes wouldn’t let me focus.

  I found myself looking at the ceiling as Kupier stuffed his socks into his boots. “Alright, kids,” he said, stretching out on his squeaky cot. “You’re welcome to stay, but I’ve gotta get some shut-eye.”

  And just like that, with the blanket half over his torso and one arm tossed casually over his head, his eyes fluttered closed.

  I inched toward the door and Oort followed me. I swear Kupier’s breaths were already even by the time Oort shut the door behind us.

  “He would really sleep with us in the room?” I asked.

  Oort snorted. “Oh yeah. He can sleep anywhere, anytime.” He snapped his fingers. “Once he fell asleep at the dinner table, spaghetti on his fork still. My older brother tore up a napkin into little pieces and stuffed them one by one into Kup’s nose.”

  The memory lit Oort with joy for just a second, but it faded into sadness. A sadness I recognized. It was pain that came from remembering someone you loved. Someone who was gone, but when your love for them still burned.

  It was such a strange pain. When your heart kept growing love for someone, but had nowhere to put it.

  For the next ten days, I avoided Kupier. I didn’t like the strange feeling in my stomach he’d given me. And I didn’t like being in such close proximity with someone I couldn’t predict in the least.

  But even though I was trying to avoid him, it also seemed I couldn’t go anywhere without accidentally running into him.
In the small galley kitchen, he was suddenly there behind me, his rough palms on my shoulders, moving me to the side so he could grab the peanut butter. In the main room, where I’d come for a moment of quiet, there he was, scribbling notes in a notebook. In the hallway outside of my quarters, he was rushing past, whispering directives to a Ferryman and flashing a quick grin at me as he went by.

  The ship was small, sure. But it seemed that if I left my room, there he was. It was annoying. And confusing.

  Other things that were confusing? The towel and soap I’d found sitting on my bed one night. I didn’t have to take miserable cold showers with nothing to wash or dry myself anymore. The next day it was a toothbrush that I found, and a tiny tin of powdered toothpaste. And the next day it was a few sets of clean, oversized clothes.

  Sullia appeared at breakfast one morning with clean hair and a new shirt on. So I knew they’d done the same for her. And it confused me even further. On one hand, I understood. They were buttering us up to do what they wanted. On the other hand, it seemed desperately important to me that I understand if these were actual signs of friendship or not. My logical Datapoint brain couldn’t make sense of the information I’d received. I hated it.

  It was a week and a half after the eclipse when the sounds of fighting attracted me to the main room with the big window. I leaned in the doorway of the room, unnoticed, as Kupier and a Ferryman whose name I didn’t know engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

  The wiry Ferryman moved fast and erratically while Kupier moved with smooth surety, blocking and parrying each blow. They must have been at it for a bit because the wiry Ferryman was wheezing, out of breath, and Kupier’s t-shirt stuck to his sweaty back. I noticed for the first time that he wasn’t quite as thin as I’d thought. He was just so tall that it looked that way.

  Kupier ducked a kick, rolled, and popped up, jabbing the other man in a clean rib shot. The man growled with frustration and tried again.

  I watched for a few minutes more. It was good to see training like this. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the daily rhythm and schedule of the Station. Back there, I would have spent time sparring or coaching every single day. I wanted to stay and watch for longer. Actually, I wanted to stay and coach, but then I remembered that I had no business coaching two Ferrymen on their fighting skills. They could stay subpar for all I cared. The more subpar the better, actually.

  I was just stepping back into the hallway when the wiry Ferryman spoke. “Damn it, Kupier! You’re too fast. I can barely remember the moves you taught me when you’re already striking from the other side!”

  “Wait a second.” I stepped back into the room. Apparently, I couldn’t hold my tongue a second longer. “You’re trying to remember moves while you’re fighting?”

  The wiry Ferryman looked up at me, distrust and surprise on his face.

  Kupier looked up, too, from where he was crouched on the ground, although he didn’t look surprised to see me in the least. No. He looked… pleased. “Glade Io, this is Roost. He’s one of our reserve pilots. And a communications man. He could get a message clear across the galaxy if you needed him to. Roost, this is DP-1.”

  I didn’t miss the teasing smile on Kupier’s face. Just as I didn’t miss the brief glow of pride on Roost’s face as his captain had complimented him. Still so strange to me. To see a leader do things like that.

  I nodded briefly at the introduction and took a step further into the room.

  “You don’t concentrate on moves when you’re fighting?” the wiry man asked me. One of his hands nervously traced the Ferryman’s tattoos at his wrists. Three concentric rings. They all had them.

  I narrowed my eyes, thinking of a way to explain it. “No. Of course not. Kupier, what’s in your mind when you fight?”

  He tilted his head to one side. “I don’t know. Nothing.” He laughed at himself. “Well, not nothing. That sounds dumb. But nothing in particular, I guess. Scents, sounds, stuff like that. But things just kind of go in and out. Like a wave in a lake.”

  “Sure. That’s how my friend Dahn fights, too. And that could work for you.” I tossed my head toward this Roost guy.

  “I don’t think so.” He scraped his hand over his tattoos. “I’ve never been very good at that kind of thing. That Zen thing.”

  “Yeah. Me neither. So do what I do then.” I took another step toward them. “Picture one thing instead of nothing.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you want. But something with a… spirit. Something that does what it’s naturally supposed to do. Something that understands its instinctual side.”

  Roost stared at me blankly. “Like what?” he repeated blankly.

  My eyebrows went up forcefully and irritation laced my tone. “I don’t know. Whatever you want. An animal of some kind. Something you’ve seen or heard of that inspires you. Or a force of nature. A sandstorm. A blackhole. The sun. Ever been to Io? There’s some killer volcanoes—”

  “What do you picture?” Kupier asked me. He was still in a crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet like the energy of sparring had him by the throat.

  I hesitated. It seemed personal somehow. “A certain animal. That used to live on Earth.”

  “Which one?”

  I paused, but then went ahead. “Have you ever seen a video of a horse?”

  “That’s it!” Kupier snapped his fingers and pointed at me, delight sharpening his features, making his blue eyes even bluer. “That’s what you remind me of when you do that hair-tossy thing. A horse tossing its mane.”

  I pursed my lips, refusing to smile. “That’s what Dahn says, too.”

  Kupier’s eyes narrowed, just for a second, before they resumed that squinty playfulness. “Wanna fight?”

  I was already striding across the floor as if I’d anticipated his question. I yanked off the oversized sweatshirt I’d worn so I was just in a t-shirt and my black cargoes from the Station. “Hell yeah.”

  If the eclipse had been a gift for his crew, then publicly sparring with Glade was like Christmas, Hanukah, and a lifetime of birthdays all rolled into one. And Kupier knew it. That’s why he was doing it.

  Well. That and the fact that he wanted to see if he could beat a Datapoint in hand-to-hand combat. And the fact that he pretty much liked doing anything that included Glade.

  He struck that last part from his thoughts.

  Kupier eyed her as he jumped from side to side, swinging his arms to loosen them up. She, on the other hand, was doing nothing to prepare besides watching him. She wasn’t even stretching. He couldn’t wait to wipe that smug look off her face. Kupier ignored the crowd of Ferrymen that started piling up at the doorway. “Nothing that’ll leave a scar or take more than two weeks to heal.”

  Those were his standard rules with his Ferrymen when he sparred with them.

  But she scoffed. “Whatever you say. I didn’t think you were so concerned with looks, pretty boy.”

  He laughed outright at that one. He’d never been called pretty a day in his life. He liked this trash talking side of her. The bright excitement in her eyes. For days, she’d been prowling around the Ray, on edge for some reason. She’d been like a panther in a cage. No, he corrected himself, like a wild horse behind a fence.

  She’d been spoiling for some exercise, and this was the big moment for it.

  He clapped his hands together. “I’m confused. You want to talk about fighting or actually fight?”

  She tossed her hair back and it caught the light. She said nothing and barely moved, but Kupier’s experienced eye saw the way her body realigned. The way she readied herself for battle.

  The two of them circled one another. Kupier couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over his face. Glade, on the other hand, glared at him like she could tear his throat out with her eyes.

  He recognized patience when he saw it. He knew how much of a tool it was in combat. Too bad he’d never had any.

  Kupier sprang across the five-foot distance be
tween them. He held one hand up as if to strike and sneakily hooked his opposite leg behind her knee, sending her tumbling forward.

  She took the fall into a graceful tumble, basically front-flipping through the air as she took him down with her. Kupier laughed in pain as she slammed her shoulder into his then, pinning a pressure point and making him see spots.

  She was fast. And smart. And trained. But Kupier was bigger. He firmly gripped Glade around the waist and tossed her off of him. She landed on her feet and wasted no time in charging him.

  Kupier laughed again as he barrel rolled across the floor to avoid the booted foot that attempted to stomp into his stomach, but not before he grabbed her ankle and took her tumbling with him. He got an elbow to the jaw and a knee right into the side of his thigh. He gasped for breath. And still came up laughing.

  They sprang apart from one another, both of them regaining their footing. He flashed those white teeth of his in her direction and he could have sworn she growled. He was surprised and weirdly pleased when she charged him again, her fists raised in a fighter’s stance. He had just enough time to notice, again, the hitch in her step. He wondered what had happened to her leg.

  He ducked her first swing, but found that she’d anticipated the move, sending him pinwheeling back with a jab to the mouth.

  Kupier tasted blood as he spun backwards and used the simple physics of his height and weight to overpower her into a headlock. She screamed in frustration. That was the only warning he got before she twisted right out of his grasp and somehow ended up on his back, panting into his ear and gripping his neck in a way that made his reality swim.

  “That’s right,” she muttered as he staggered them across the concrete floor, his arms making half-circles.

  He could have sworn she chuckled when he fell to his knees, most of his vision black. But that chuckle dissolved when he shocked the hell out of her by flopping onto his back. Full stop, full weight. He grinned again when he clearly heard an ‘oof’ in his ear.