“Hey, Mr. Glum!” Leda’s voice echoed in the cargo hold.
Roar saw her smiling up at him, a dark brow arched, her skin shimmering under the lights. “What’s up?”
“You just looked so sullen for a second there.” As she spoke, she abandoned her checklists and made her way to a spiral staircase leading up to the walkway he stood on, avoiding the lift used for heavy items, the one Stein said Leda was most likely to use to get up and down in the cargo bay.
Roar smiled. He’d told Stein that Leda wouldn’t touch the lift, and here she was, climbing the steps, proving everyone wrong. Proving she could do whatever they could, crutches be damned. She was stronger than anyone he knew, and it made him fiercely proud of her.
Leda reached his side, her breaths heavy and a light sheen on her skin, a healthy glow in her cheeks. “Anything you want to talk about?”
He shook his head. “Nope.” Because he didn’t want to talk at all when he was with her. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Run away with her. “You seem to be getting along just fine.”
She put her hands on her hips, for the moment holding her weight without her crutches. “Compliments, I see. Distracting me again?”
“Maybe.” He smiled. If she only knew the half of it. He was dying to kiss her, but if he did, he’d never stop.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you off with a warning this time.” Her grin faded, the laughter dimmed in her eyes. “Do you think my mom will be all right on Earth on her own?”
A sore subject, one they’d gone over more than once since Leda had repaired the cloak. “We invited her, but she never replied.”
“I know. I just wish I could’ve seen her one last time.”
At least she understands she might never come back here.
“Somehow I doubt she’d be thrilled if we locked onto her energy signature and brought her here against her will.”
“Yeah, she’d go ballistic.” Leda laughed, then stepped forward and hugged him. “What did I get myself into?”
Roar hugged her back and only by the grace of the Elders and every ounce of his training did he stop himself from burying his face in her hair.
After a moment, she pulled back and said, “You okay?”
“We just…should be careful.”
“Oh.” She looked away.
“That came out wrong.”
“No,” she said. “I agree. We need to be careful. I should wash up. I’m all sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty.”
She tapped his arm but smiled. “That’s gross. Show me how the showers work?”
The thought of her in the shower heated his blood and made his mouth go dry. “Uh, sure.”
Halfway to their quarters, the comm device in his pocket buzzed, and a tremor jolted through Equinox’s interior, knocking Leda against his chest. She wrapped her hands around his bicep and he reached for his comm with his spare hand. In Aurelite, so he wouldn’t worry Leda unnecessarily, he asked whoever was on the bridge to report to him.
Leda’s grip tightened on his arm. “What was that?”
“I’m not sure.” He didn’t bother making excuses. Despite having more respect for Leda than to lie to her, he didn’t like to speculate. “But we should probably get to the bridge.”
“Yeah,” Oline’s voice came over the comm. “Like, five minutes ago. There’s something you need to deal with.”
Roar avoided Leda’s gaze. “What is it?”
“You’ll never, ever guess.”
Chapter Fourteen
Oline was right—Roar never would have guessed, not in a thousand years, not with all the right clues laid out for him with a giant arrow pointing to the answer. From the look on Leda’s face as she stared at the viewscreen, leaning on her crutches for support, he doubted she expected this any more than he did.
“Mrs. Lindgren. I didn’t know you were friends with Gitte,” Roar said, standing close to Leda; her breath seemed to stall and his chest squeezed in empathy. He hardened his gaze at the screen. “So you and Charlie were working together then, huh? I said ‘were’ because, well, he’s dead. Can’t say I’m sorry. Oh, and you should know I pulled the trigger myself. Nine bullets between the eyes, if I counted correctly, but then again, everything happened so fast, I can’t be sure.”
Fury sparked in Gitte’s eyes. Her lips twisted. “Cut the superior act, Herr Bakke. Surrender the ship and I give you my word that you and your associates can live out the rest of your days in a secure facility, working for us.”
“Your word? I’m sorry, Gitte, but to me, your word means about as much as a handful of vomit. What’s my other option?”
Leda’s mother stepped forward, her image on screen somehow darker, something sinister in her eyes. “Death. And it won’t be swift.”
“You’re a monster.” Leda’s voice was a whisper, the sound choked, forced.
“Maybe, but we all become what we’re forced to become, daughter. If your grandmother hadn’t forced me to marry that pathetic excuse of a man and reproduce with him… Who knows what might have happened?”
Leda turned away from the screen, muttering a string of words that would make an Earth soldier blush. Roar watched her spin into a chair in front of systems, her fingers working on the panel, then he turned back to Gitte and Mrs. Lindgren, his mind on the girl across the bridge, his attention on the two women, obviously in a ship of their own. From his position, he could see, on a panel near navigation, the location of their ship in relation to Equinox—close enough to touch if he were in a suit and standing on the hull.
Roar studied the bridge of the ship on the viewscreen. Compared to Equinox’s bright, clean interior, this ship was dark and dingy. He wondered who had surrendered the ship, and if it happened voluntarily, or otherwise. Judging by the gouges and blaster holes marking the far wall behind the two women, he assumed the latter.
On screen, Gitte tapped a polished shoe, the sound echoing. “The clock is ticking, Herr Bakke.”
“When you say ‘working for you,’ what does that entail, exactly?” Roar said, drawing the words out, making it seem as though he were considering their offer. Meanwhile the wheels of his mind worked overtime trying to come up with an alternative.
“What are you doing?” Stein hissed low enough the women onscreen wouldn’t have heard him, standing next to Leda.
“I’m giving us some options.” She shoved him out of her way.
Onscreen, Gitte let out a breath, her frown curling deeper. “Exactly what it sounds like. Now you’re wasting my time. You have sixty seconds to comply, or be blown out of the sky.”
Can they do it? With that space bucket? Roar moved just his eyes to the nav panel and located the small display with the other ship’s tactical capabilities. He sent a mental thanks to Petrus for putting it up. Gitte and Mrs. Lindgren weren’t bluffing: their ship might be a massive space beast, but it packed some serious weaponry, enough to do irreparable damage to Equinox, even with the shield at full strength. The threat held a hell of a lot more truth than Roar thought, and in light of Gitte’s association with Charlie, and Mrs. Lindgren’s participation with them, he didn’t doubt for a second they’d blast Equinox into oblivion.
Roar shot a look in Petrus’s direction, gauging his friend’s state of mind. He had a plan, but Petrus would suffer for it, worse than any other pain he’d ever known, and part of Roar wasn’t prepared to put Petrus through that.
As always, Petrus met his gaze head-on, his eyes filled with conviction, giving Roar another reason to respect the hell out of his friend. Petrus signed: “do it.”
Roar’s stomach clenched as he turned to Leda and considered how, after he did what he was about to do, he’d never get another chance to kiss her, or see the way her eyes danced and sparkled when she launched into another one of her verbal sparring matches. Leda didn’t notice him watching her, she was so absorbed in whatever had captured her full attention, her spine hunched, fingers almost a blur over the panel.
Movement in
his vision snapped Roar’s thoughts back to the present, and he saw Petrus giving instructions, spelling them out longhand under the panel he sat in front of. He glanced at Oline and Stein, both of whom knew Aurelis Standard Hand, and they nodded once to show they were on board.
The muscles in his shoulders drew tighter as Roar faced the screen, knowing this was the last time he’d see either of the women, and the last time he’d be in Leda’s good graces. He couldn’t believe Leda’s own mother would threaten to blow her out of the sky, or imprison her, but then he’d been there when Mrs. Lindgren dismissed her so easily. The elegant blonde woman glaring at him on the viewscreen cared for herself and no one else.
Roar raised his chin, a sign to the others that he was totally compliant. A second later he felt the buzz of strathcanons powering up under his feet. “Well,” he said, “you’ve given us two options. Can I ask why Mrs. Lindgren is exempt from being locked away?”
Malicious laughter filled the air, and Gitte shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe Roar would pose the question. “You stupid boy. She’s the one who told us about your kind, and what you’re capable of. She’s been cooperating with us for years. Who do you think we had watching you while you were running around on Vardø?”
Every cell in Roar’s body stilled. The shadows, the sensation of being watched. He hadn’t imagined them. They were real. The whole time, it had been Leda’s mother spying on him. Hot anger and a surge of embarrassment churned a storm in his gut. “How—how long?”
“She’s been feeding us information for over twenty years.”
Roar’s brain struggled to grasp the enormity of Nina’s deception. Against her own people. Did she really think so little of her own kind? The one altercation Roar had with Leda’s mother after Leda had been shot was proof enough.
“Now, can we quit playing dumb and make a choice?” Gitte raised both brows. “Come quietly. Or do I have to destroy such a pretty ship?”
Roar opened his mouth to answer, which would give Petrus the signal to fire, but the floor beneath him shuddered, the most powerful blast he’d ever felt rippling through the ship and into his bones. He grabbed the nearest thing for support, and he watched the image on screen crackle as an explosion rocked the other ship, tearing the bridge apart. A look at Stein told Roar he wasn’t the one who took the shot.
Petrus shook his head, his eyes pinched tight, tears squeezing from the corners, his face red, shoulders tense. The physical pain he felt from those on board the other ship would be momentary, but the emotional distress from the surviving Lindgren/Sørensen family members would last much longer.
Roar turned away from Petrus, knowing there was nothing he could do for his friend now. On screen he watched the remains of the other ship, flames burning where life support systems emptied excess oxygen out, trying to keep the ship’s occupants alive in vain.
Roar squeezed his fists, the nails biting into his palms. “Who fired?”
Silence filled the bridge, thick and hazy.
Leda turned her chair, her eyes red and chin trembling. Her face suddenly seemed pale and a little too thin. “I did.”
They were staring. Everyone on the bridge—Nils, Uncle Arne, Oline, Petrus, Stein, and Roar. Leda could feel their eyes like lasers, burning through her flesh, right down to the bone.
Murderer.
Sweat trickled from her hairline down the tip of her nose. When the drop grew heavy enough, it fell to the panel in front of her, and an overly loud splat echoed after it. She knew she was shaking, and the tears came in spite of her best efforts, but she felt almost as though she were outside of herself, looking down, like some divine moment of warped self-judgement.
Both of her parents were gone, and all she had left were Uncle Arne and Grams. Her life, as she knew it, was so far beyond repair that she couldn’t see the other side of the chasm where the past and the future were supposed to meet with the present.
Grams. White-hot panic blossomed in Leda’s chest, a thrashing creature ready to explode from her ribs. What would Grams say when she found out?
I’m nothing. Worse than nothing. Everyone she loved was gone, and everything she thought she knew was turned upside down, sideways, and she had to hold on tight just to survive the next few seconds.
Oline left her station, her pale, colorless hair swishing with each step, almost mesmerizing. “Are you all right?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Stein said. “Of course she’s not all right. She might never be all right again. She just blew her mom into infinity.”
Leda inhaled a sharp breath and avoided Uncle Arne’s direction, grateful that Grams was in her cabin.
Oline draped an arm on Leda’s shoulder. “Oh, very subtle.”
Stein shrugged. “There are worse things than losing someone who obviously doesn’t give a shit about you.”
It hurt to hear, but Stein was right: Leda’s mom didn’t care.
Leda had never been in such a state of inner friction. She felt like two torn pieces of tissue paper being rubbed together, forced to become whole without anything to tether her in place.
Roar hadn’t said anything. She could only imagine what he thought of her now. What kind of monster was capable of eradicating her own parent? Over before it ever really began. Story of my life.
Keeping her eyes aimed at the floor, Leda used her crutches to push herself up, slowly, so slowly she could feel her bones and muscles and ligaments working cell-by-cell, and she exited the bridge, destined for her cabin where she hoped she’d get a little peace from the inner turmoil of her mind and heart. In the stir of a teaspoon, Leda’s life was irrevocably changed once more. This time, the fault lay with her. There was no one else to blame.
Roar watched Leda go, torn between wanting to comfort her and needing to get Equinox away from Earth. Who knew how many other vessels they had at their disposal? If Charlie was a cog, Gitte must have been higher up in the chain, and there was no telling how the humans would react to her death. Not to mention the death of the alien spy they had working for them.
Leda must be breaking into a million shattered pieces of herself. This might destroy her.
He couldn’t, in any kind of conscience, good or bad, leave her alone at a time like this. To Oline, he said, “Chart a course out of here. Stein, take over tactical and watch out for signs of trouble.” Turning to Petrus, he added, “Keep an eye on things out here.”
Roar headed for the door, but Arne stopped him, a hand on his shoulder. “Let her go,” Arne said. “I think she needs some time.”
Petrus nodded his agreement. “There’s nothing you can do for her right now.”’
“Nothing?” Roar shoved a hand through his hair. “I could…be there for her.”
“You could. But you’re not family,” Oline pointed out. “Arne will help her more right now than you can. She needs to know the only family she has left doesn’t loathe her very existence.”
Stein smirked. “That’s a little deep, coming from you.”
Oline flashed him a brief glimpse of her tongue. “Says the guy who’s about as deep as a puddle in the desert during a dry spell.”
“I agree with Oline.” Arne unfolded himself from his chair. “If you don’t need me, I’d like to look in on Leda.”
Warring with himself, Roar conceded to get the ship going before he went to see Leda, but he didn’t want her to be alone, and her uncle was the best choice. “Fine, but keep me informed.” He grabbed an extra comm and gave it to Arne. “Hit this button to talk, release to listen.”
“Like a walkie-talkie.”
Roar wasn’t sure what that was, but Arne dipped his head low, a half nod, half bow. Then he left the bridge.
“Right.” Roar cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this.”
Getting Equinox underway didn’t take his mind off Leda, but it did give him some time to get his head on straight. Armed with coordinates to aim for and a flight plan, Roar sat down in the captain’s chair, as Leda had called it, and placed hi
s hands on the controls, similar to the ones in the shuttle. The swell of dark energy filled his body, a shot of adrenalin straight to the heart.
Taking a deep breath, he eased Equinox away from Earth with ease, the ship gliding through space, smooth and graceful like the Dravuur back home on Aurelis—massive creatures that took to the sky, similar to the legendary dragons on Earth.
Oline let out a long, slow sigh. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to be going home.”
“I could easily stay away.” Stein rubbed the cuff on his bicep. “Can you take this thing off now? It’s not like I’m gonna run away. There’s nowhere to run to out here.”
Roar ignored them, feeling the ship moving faster, getting back on its feet after a minor delay. “Engaging strathdrive in five.”
Chatter fizzled into silence as the drive powered up and Oline counted them down. On one, Roar engaged the drive. The ship blinked from a steady pace to blinding speed, coursing through the stratium-rich space. Roar’s blood felt weightless in his veins until he leveled out the speed, then he pulled his hands from the armrests, relinquishing control to the autopilot program.
Petrus snapped his fingers, catching Roar’s attention. “Cloak engaged and working, no problems.”
“At least that’s something we don’t have to worry about.”
“If you have a moment, I need to talk to you about Leda.”
“What about her?”
Petrus glanced around the bridge. “In private.”
“Why? What’s so important?”
“There’s just something I need to warn you about—”
“Seriously? Isn’t there something you should be doing?” He slumped lower in the chair and ignored Petrus’s frantic hand movements. “Stein, can you manage tactical for a few hours?”
“Sure.”
Roar couldn’t help noticing how, since Stein came up from Earth’s surface, he wasn’t a huge pain in the ass. At times, he seemed almost agreeable. Which was enough to raise his hackles when it came to Stein. He decided to test a theory. “Glad to be heading back home?”
All the Stars Left Behind Page 13
