Haven 6

by Aubrie Dionne

  She poked her head through the ferns cov­er­ing the door. Ri­ley leaned on the tree, arms crossed. He gave the device a hes­it­ant look, re­mind­ing Eri of their dis­trust for tech­no­logy.

  “It’s meant to heal, not kill.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Carven nar­rowed his eyes and turned be­fore she could in­ter­pret the change in his fea­tures. “Come, I’ll take you to your friend.”

  He led her across a bridge to an­other tree hut to­ward the back of the vil­lage. “We’ve se­greg­ated him from the rest of the pop­u­la­tion, just in case he’s con­ta­gious. I hope you un­der­stand.”

  “Of course.”

  Eri pushed aside the ferns and entered the tree hut, her sight ad­just­ing from the bright day­light to the dimly lit room. Light trickled out of a small tri­an­gu­lar hole in the thatched ceil­ing, shin­ing on Litus’s long legs. He slumped on top of a bed, propped up by the wall at his back. His eyes were closed, and Eri’s heart sped. I hope I’m not too late.

  His chest rose and fell, and she took in a deep breath, click­ing on the screen. Carven joined her, watch­ing with skep­ti­cism in his gaze.

  READY TO SCAN SUB­JECT.

  Eri stood above Litus and pressed her fin­ger to the screen. A loud beep rang out.

  IN­COM­PAT­IBLE SUB­JECT.

  What? What if it had broken dur­ing land­ing? Eri flipped the re­gen­er­ator over. Caked mud covered the screen. For the Guide’s sake! She wiped the bot­tom on the blanket be­side Litus and tried again.

  The device cast a fluor­es­cent blue light across his body.

  SCAN­NING MODE AC­TIV­ATED.

  She held the light over his lungs, his stom­ach, and his lower body, wait­ing for read­ings.

  “What’s it do­ing?” Carven whispered be­hind her.

  Eri didn’t know ex­actly, but she’d listened to enough of the re­gen­er­ator lec­tures to give him some sort of an­swer. “Search­ing for dam­aged cells or in­fec­tion.”

  The device beeped.

  IN­CREASE IN LYMPH­O­CYTES DUE TO A VIRAL OR FUNGAL IN­FEC­TION. DIA­GNOSIS: PNEU­MO­NIA.

  She read it out loud to Carven.

  “Sounds bad,” Carven muttered.

  “Not at all.” Eri clicked a few but­tons on the screen and the light changed from blue to green. The device buzzed in her hands. She held the scan­ner steady as the light moved from Litus’s throat to his waist. “It will take a few mo­ments.”

  “To do what?”

  “Kill the in­fec­tion. Make him well.”

  Carven jumped up and joined her at the side of Litus’s bed. “Amaz­ing. Does that thing work for ar­row wounds as well?”

  “It de­pends on how bad it is.” Eri watched as the oxy­gen levels in Litus’s blood rose and the color came back to his face. “It can heal and re­gen­er­ate cells, but it can’t bring people back from the dead.”

  “How does it work?”

  Eri shrugged. Where to start? She had no idea how edu­cated these people were. They seemed to know enough about tech­no­logy, so she leveled with Carven. “I’m not a doc­tor, but I think it has to do with the ra­di­ation waves. They enter his body and the device mon­it­ors the ra­di­ation given off as a res­ult. Once the dia­gnosis is com­plete, the waves change the struc­ture of the dam­aged cells.”

  Carven’s face dropped as he stepped back. “Will it af­fect us?”

  “No. The re­gen­er­ator emits no­nion­iz­ing ra­di­ation, which is con­sidered harm­less at low powers and doesn’t pro­duce a sig­ni­fic­ant tem­per­at­ure rise.”

  Carven nod­ded as though he were con­sid­er­ing her words, then he shook his head. “It still seems dan­ger­ous.”

  “Not when you use it prop­erly.”

  The device clicked off and Litus stirred, tak­ing in a deep breath. His eyes flickered and opened. Eri hovered over him, hold­ing her breath.

  “Eri?”

  Her knees weakened with re­lief. “How do you feel?”

  Litus rubbed his eyes and squin­ted into the dim sun­light where she stood. “Much bet­ter. Where am I? What happened?”

  “You’re in one of the tree huts, se­greg­ated from the rest of the vil­lage in case you were con­ta­gious. Striver’s tribe re­covered some of our sup­plies from the crash site. I went through the con­tain­ers and found the re­gen­er­ator.”

  He tried to sit up, but her hand res­ted firmly on his chest. “You need to rest. You had pneu­mo­nia. I killed the in­fec­tion with the re­gen­er­ator, but the pro­cess will leave you feel­ing weak.”

  “I know the side ef­fects. I was at the class my­self, re­mem­ber?”

  She pulled her hand away. As the second in com­mand, she should con­cede to him. “I’m just re­mind­ing you.”

  He pushed him­self up and blinked, of­fer­ing an apo­lo­getic smile. “Eri, thank you for all that you’ve done.” His fea­tures hardened as he looked to Carven. “I need to talk with the com­mander.”

  Anxi­ety ri­co­cheted through Eri. By sav­ing Litus, did she con­demn Striver’s vil­lage? She stared into his eyes, be­seech­ing him. “I need to talk with you first. In private.”

  Carven eyed them both and nod­ded his head, sus­pi­cion stir­ring in his gaze. “I’ll leave you two. Please join us to­night for the cel­eb­ra­tion.”

  “We will.” Eri waited un­til Carven’s foot­steps faded be­fore speak­ing. “Care­ful what you tell the com­mander.” Her voice dropped to a whis­per. “She’s plan­ning to an­ni­hil­ate these people. All she needs are num­bers and a plan of at­tack.”

  Litus’s lips tightened. “I’m only try­ing to do my job. What the com­mander does with the in­form­a­tion is not for me to de­cide.”

  “How can you give her in­form­a­tion against them after all they’ve done for us?”

  Litus rubbed his temples as if the ar­gu­ment reared a head­ache he wasn’t ready for. “Be­cause I’m a team ex­ped­i­tion leader, Eri. I be­lieve in the Guide and the com­mander. She has our best in­terests at heart.”

  “She might have our best in­terests, but what about the oth­ers here on Refuge?”

  “Did you see what they did to our team? To Mars and me? I have to tell the com­mander of the dangers here, along with the people who are friendly. My job is to look out for those on the Her­it­age—and es­pe­cially for Aquaria.”

  Frus­tra­tion boiled in­side her. “Don’t you see? Your single-minded­ness is keep­ing you and Aquaria apart. She doesn’t speak to you be­cause she’s afraid she’ll say some­thing against the Guide and you’ll turn her in.”

  Litus’s eyes widened. “I’d never do that. I love her.”

  The word love struck a res­on­ant chord in Eri’s heart. Maybe there was hope for Litus after all. Love—some­thing that didn’t hap­pen all that of­ten on the decks of the Her­it­age. And Litus felt that way about her sis­ter. “Learn to think for your­self. A leader with a spine would im­press Aquaria more than a blind fol­lower who dog­gedly sticks to the Guide.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Be­lieve me. I’ve known her all my life.”

  “Why didn’t you say some­thing back at camp?”

  “I tried to, but we were at­tacked. Now it’s even more im­port­ant, not just to im­press Aquaria but to do the right thing. Our ac­tions in­flu­ence a great deal of people: hu­mans like us who have lived here for hun­dreds of years, along with a new spe­cies—the first alien con­tact hu­man­kind has ever known. Isn’t that worth fight­ing for?”

  Litus’s shoulders slumped for­ward. Eri felt like she’d beaten him with a tree branch all af­ter­noon, but she pushed the guilt away. He needed to step up if Striver and the oth­ers were to have any chance. “I have to re­port back,” he said. “We can’t ig­nore the com­mander forever.”

  “All I’m say­ing is con­sider what you tell her, what our mis­sion here should be.”
/>   “If she sees these Law­less people pos­ing any threat to our col­on­iz­a­tion ef­forts, noth­ing I can say will change her mind. I’ll put in a good word for Striver and his vil­lage, but I can’t prom­ise you any­thing.”

  Eri nod­ded, wear­i­ness from all the frus­tra­tion and anxi­ety bog­ging her down. She felt like she’d thrown her­self at a wall and hadn’t even made a crack.

  “I’m glad you were chosen for this team, Eri.” Litus’s voice grew soft and gentle. He stood with his whole body creak­ing like an old man after a long nap and put a hand on her shoulder. He looked like he’d aged ten years in three days. Eri only hoped he’d gained wis­dom as well.

  “At least try to save us all from a war we don’t need.”

  Litus squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Hope

  Guards paced around the cir­cum­fer­ence of one of the back stor­age huts, bows cocked and ready to fire. Mixed feel­ings of hope and fear comingled in Striver’s heart as he walked across the hanging bridge con­nect­ing the cen­ter of town from the res­id­en­tial off­shoots to the stor­age huts in the back. The sun sunk low in the forest and the cel­eb­ra­tion loomed. Vil­la­gers had already lit the candle boxes dangling from low branches, mak­ing their own tiny galaxy with golden twink­ling stars.

  Des­pite the dec­or­a­tions, Striver felt any­thing but fest­ive.

  Beckon hunched over his walk­ing stick, watch­ing the guards like an eagle sur­vey­ing his brood. The old man turned and gauged Striver’s ap­proach with a keen eye and a cres­cent frown.

  Of course the coun­cil would su­per­vise Weaver’s re­turn.

  Striver knew it was only fair, but part of him dreaded but­ting heads with the close-minded eld­ers dog­gedly ad­her­ing to cus­tom and out­dated laws. Talk­ing to them was like talk­ing to the rocks by the river­side.

  Striver bowed be­fore the vil­lage elder, then stood and met his gaze. “I want to see him.”

  Beckon didn’t move, rooted to his spot like an an­cient tree with his long gray beard stir­ring in the breeze. “Save your voice. He won’t listen to you.”

  Striver’s jaw tightened as he took in a deep breath. “I have to try.”

  “Tend to the oth­ers in the vil­lage. Their spir­its are low. They need a leader to show them these vis­it­ors bring no harm.”

  “We don’t know that yet,” Striver cor­rec­ted him with a tilt of his head. “In my opin­ion, we cel­eb­rate too soon.”

  Beckon nod­ded his head slightly. “You may be right. Still, if a war is upon us, we will need strength, cour­age, and unity. Our spir­its should be un­break­able.”

  “Five minutes,” Striver com­manded him with strength in his voice.

  Beckon nod­ded. Resig­na­tion weighed his voice down. “If any­thing, one con­ver­sa­tion will quell your hopes.”

  Re­fus­ing to be­lieve him, Striver walked past the guards and entered the hut, heart pound­ing. Weaver sat on a tweed chair, bent over like a rag doll. A plate of half-eaten trot­ter res­ted be­side his bound feet. They’d tied his hands to the chair with just enough give to reach the food and wa­ter.

  At least he’s eat­ing.

  Weaver looked up, hair fall­ing around his face. He frowned in dis­ap­point­ment as if Striver were the last per­son on Refuge he wanted to see.

  Striver swal­lowed the hurt down. “It’s good to have you home with us.”

  Weaver cleared his throat. “So you’re go­ing to keep me here, like a pet?”

  “I’m hop­ing, in time, you’ll want to stay.”

  Si­lence. Weaver’s gaze stared to a place Striver could never go, even if he wanted to. Striver stepped for­ward, the floor­boards creak­ing un­der his feet. This shel­ter will not hold him forever, no mat­ter how many guards stand at at­ten­tion.

  “You have nowhere else to go. Jolt won’t take you back. You failed him, and he’ll kill you for it. He’s got a repu­ta­tion.”

  Weaver flicked his eyes up un­der heavy, brood­ing lids. “You have no idea what my ar­range­ment with Jolt is.”

  “Weaver, whatever it is, it can’t be good. That man is evil. He’s out for power and to sate his own greed.”

  “I’m not plan­ning on sub­mit­ting to Jolt forever.”

  “What are you plan­ning to do, then?”

  Again, si­lence. Si­lence so sharp it cut Striver in pieces. Did his brother have a plan at all, or would his reck­less be­ha­vior only lead him to a dead end?

  Striver spread his hands. “You could have a great life here with us.”

  Weaver laughed bit­terly. “Al­ways liv­ing in your shadow? Watch­ing Mom slowly waste away? Suf­fer­ing as Riptide throws her­self at your feet?”

  Striver res­isted cringing at Riptide’s name. “I don’t have feel­ings for her, and I never have.”

  Weaver’s eyes glittered with bit­ter­ness. “That doesn’t stop her from hav­ing feel­ings for you.”

  If only he could wish her feel­ings away. Striver spread his hands in help­less­ness. “I’m sorry, Weaver.”

  “What do you have to be sorry about? You’re per­fect. Heck, you even look like the le­gendary Striker, sa­vior of our people and the Guard­i­ans. A spit­ting im­age. Who wouldn’t want to fol­low you?”

  Striver crumbled in­side. He couldn’t win. Weaver had noth­ing, and he had it all.

  Holy Refuge, I don’t even want half of it.

  Striver wished he could hand the world to Weaver on a plate, but one had to earn the ad­mir­a­tion Striver had. Re­spect only came with time, and Weaver had failed every­one he loved.

  “This is why I won’t let Mom see you. You’d break her heart all over again.” Striver shook his head in dis­ap­point­ment.

  “Her heart was broken a long time ago, when Dad left.”

  Weaver al­ways knew how to spread the blame, and there was no sense ar­guing with him. In his head, he did no wrong; every­one else in the world wronged him. Striver turned to­ward the door. “I’m al­ways here if you need me. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Weaver spoke to his back, his words sharp as thorns. “You can’t make the world per­fect, like you. Refuge will al­ways be di­vided. It’s hu­man nature.”

  Striver paused. Now three fac­tions battled for their planet: the Law­less, his vil­lage, and the ship in the sky. Was there a way to bring all three to­gether? If so, he’d find it.

  “Not if I can help it.” The crack­ling of torch­light fol­lowed Striver out.

  …

  Striver’s fail­ure with his brother ripped a hole in his heart, and the pain of re­port­ing Weaver’s reck­less­ness to their mother heightened the hurt ten­fold. He stood out­side her hut, search­ing for words that weren’t there. He hadn’t seen her since his re­turn, but Carven had given her the news of his home­com­ing, along with Weaver, as Striver made ar­range­ments for Mars and Litus and answered the vil­la­gers’ ques­tions.

  Now he had to face her with bad news.

  The candle­light shimmered from in­side, calm­ing and wel­com­ing him. Whenever he spent time with his mother he felt centered, fo­cused. She taught him what was really im­port­ant in this world. He needed her to ground him again.

  He par­ted the ferns and stepped in. His mother lay in her bed, arms and legs thin as twigs. His heart broke all over again.

  “Striver, it’s good to see you.” A smile touched her thin lips.

  “How are you feel­ing?”

  She shrugged, prop­ping her­self up on her knobby el­bows. “The same.”

  Her con­di­tion was worsen­ing. He could see the list­less­ness in her body, the pain in her tensed muscles. Eri’s re­gen­er­ator flashed in his mind. Carven had told him how she’d saved Litus, erad­ic­at­ing the sick­ness tear­ing through his body. Could she do the same for his mother?

  “What of Weaver?” Her ques­tion br
ought his thoughts back.

  He came over by her bed, took her hand in his, and kissed the back of her palm. “He’s home, Mom. He’s safe.” For now.

  “Is he go­ing to the cel­eb­ra­tion?”

  “No.” Striver ran a hand over his hair. “They’ve locked him up.”

  “Has he harmed any­one in the vil­lage?”

  “No, but the coun­cil sees him as a threat. They think he’ll run away again. He shared our secrets with the Law­less in re­turn for shel­ter.”

  Her hand tensed un­der­neath his fin­gers. This in­form­a­tion was not good for her, es­pe­cially in her weakened con­di­tion. He wished he had good news to cheer her up, but the reck­less­ness of her son ec­lipsed her world.

  She met his gaze. “Look after him, will you?”

  “I’ll do my best. I tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen to reason. He’s jeal­ous of me and everything I’ve be­come. I can’t blame him.”

  She pat­ted the back of his hand. “Any­one would be. You’ve turned into a hand­some young man and a bril­liant leader. You’ve made me proud.”

  Heat spread through his chest. He loved his mother so much, he was will­ing to take a chance, even if his ac­tions de­fied everything he’d ever learned. “If you could heal as a res­ult of tech­no­logy, would you give it a try?”

  His mother blinked and shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve never thought of such a thing. Why?”

  “Eri has a device able to re­gen­er­ate cells. She used it on her team­mate, and he healed right be­fore Carven’s eyes.” Anxi­ety bubbled up in Striver’s veins. “Will you try it?”

  She swal­lowed, look­ing like she was drown­ing in her bed sheets. “What will the vil­la­gers think of you?”

  He sus­pec­ted she’d ar­gue as much. “A new age is upon us—if any­one ar­gues that, all they have to do is turn their heads to the sky. Per­haps this will bring our peoples closer to­gether. We can’t con­tinue to live in the old ways. The Law­less are strength­en­ing, and that ship in the sky isn’t go­ing to go away.”

  “Yes, but is it the best way? Ac­cept­ing the vis­it­ors’ tech­no­logy?”