All the Stars Left Behind

by Ashley Graham

  She opened the bottle and downed the drink inside, grateful for something to wash out the taste in her mouth. She didn’t know if it was water, but it had a sweet taste to it, like nectar. “How do you know about Earth?”

  “Most people on Aurelis know about it. We did have a hand in creating many of your planet’s early cultures.”

  For a man with a build like a wrestler and a rodent-like face full of scars, he seemed rather intelligent. “So that show about ancient aliens wasn’t bluffing.”

  Another blank stare.

  She smirked. “Back on Earth, people actually believe that aliens have been visiting us for thousands of years, pretending to be gods and stuff.”

  Rat Face shrugged. “Believe me, don’t believe me. I don’t care. But you’ll see what I mean when we get to where we’re going.”

  Leda set the tray down on the floor, unwilling to try the cubes. “Where are we going?”

  He shrugged again. “If I were you, I’d focus less on causing trouble and more on doing what you’re told.”

  “You told me to eat. I tried, honestly, I did. It was, hands down, the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Total death to my taste buds. I can’t even attempt to put another spoonful of that stuff anywhere near my mouth.” She frowned, scraping her tongue with her teeth. “I can still feel it, like a rotten, furry carpet in my mouth.”

  Leda heard Tuva before she saw her, that annoying click, click, click of heels on a hard surface. She wore black again, a cat suit with a teardrop hole showcasing her ample chest, cinched at her narrow waist. And those boots. Like spikes. How can she even walk in those?

  “Hamit,” Tuva said to the guard. “Open the cell and bring our guest to the prepared room.” To Leda, she said, “I hope you’ve eaten.” Tuva eyed the tray. “I suppose you’re too stubborn to do as I ask. Very well.” She narrowed her eyes, an unmistakable lift to her scowling lips. “You’ll wish you had eaten something before I’m finished with you.”

  Fear closed icy fingers around Leda’s arms. She backed up on the bed until her back hit the wall. “What are you going to do?”

  Tuva tapped the toe of her boot on the ground, her lips curling. “I wouldn’t want to give away the surprise.” Tuva motioned for Hamit to open the cell, and a second later, the white glow vanished.

  When Leda didn’t move, Tuva jerked her head at Hamit, who sighed as he stepped into the cell and grabbed Leda roughly by the arm. His grip tightened and he pulled her up.

  This is where, if I had a normal spine, I’d do some super sweet roundhouse kick, take out the guard, steal his weapon, and zap the evil witch, then make my escape.

  But life wasn’t a video game, and she had to use her brains. Wait for the right opportunity. She hoped she’d find it before it was too late.

  Hamit released her arm and held out a hand to the open cell. Leda didn’t move. “Why aren’t you walking?”

  “I think I’ve exhausted my energy supply for the time being.”

  Tuva and Hamit stared at her with matching confused expressions.

  In as few words as possible, she explained her need for crutches. They didn’t seem convinced. “Don’t you have things like spina bifida on Aurelis?”

  Tuva huffed. “We have a lot of corruption, but I’ve never heard of this ‘spinal bifida’ thing.” She took a device like Hamit’s from her belt and held it in front of her mouth. “Yulin, come in.”

  A male voice answered: “Yes?”

  “When you ran a scan of Equinox, were there things called ‘crutches’ on board?”

  A moment of silence. “Crutches—an Earth term used to define a pair of sticks either used under the arm or banded around the arm and the user grips handles. The latter are referred to as forearm crutches and are used in conjunction with a disability, such as chronic pain, spina bifida, fibromyalgia—”

  “I get it, Yulin.” Tuva shut her eyes for a minute, massaging her temples, and Leda wondered how the guy knew all that. Did they have some kind of extraterrestrial Google? When Tuva lifted her lashes, she stared a hole right between Leda’s eyes as she spoke into the device. “Were there any on Equinox?”

  “One pair.”

  “Thank you.” Tuva hooked the device on her belt again. “Well, Hamit. It looks like you’ll be carrying our guest around during her stay on Chandra.” She turned and took a step, then paused. “Then again, the less mobile she is, the less problems we’ll have.”

  Tuva walked off, not knowing that an acid storm raged inside Leda. The first chance I get, I’ll gouge her pretty eyes out.

  Hamit mumbled an apology, then flung Leda over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her out of the cell.

  Every corridor looked the same, like on Equinox. Hamit whistled a too-cheerful tune during the short walk from the brig—one of the few ship related terms Leda remembered—to a dimly lit room. Once inside, the doors slid shut behind them, and Hamit set Leda on her feet. Now that she stood right-side up, her abdomen throbbed where Hamit’s muscular shoulder had pressed against it. She raised a hand to rub her stomach, but she dropped her hand when she saw the lone piece of furniture in the middle of the room.

  The chair was like the ones in a dentist’s office, with one glaring difference: there were metal straps where the neck, arms, waist, and legs would be when a person sat in the chair. A metal table on wheels sat about a foot from the chair. Leda swallowed, her tongue turning to ash in her mouth. She’d seen these kinds of chairs in movies and games before. Never did she believe she’d come face-to-face with one.

  Hamit nudged her between the shoulders, forcing Leda to take a step toward the chair. “It’ll be over soon enough,” he said. “Just try not to scream. She likes it when they scream.”

  Every muscle in her body turned to ice, and Hamit had to drag Leda to the chair, where he secured the straps. Leda was so terrified she forgot to struggle until he clicked the band over her throat, holding her head in place.

  “Please,” she said, her voice shaking with the rest of her body.

  Hamit looked like he wanted to help her, but he shut his eyes and took a step back from the chair, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.

  Tuva stepped into the room, carrying a black briefcase, which she set on the table. A second person followed her, but Leda couldn’t see their face. They clung to the shadows, hiding. But not for long.

  Leda felt a familiar twinge when she saw the build and the tattoo peeking above his collar before Stein’s face came into view.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Leda almost didn’t recognize Stein. He looked much the same as he had before—red hair cut close to his scalp, sour twist to his lips, dark clothing—but this betrayal morphed him into someone else. A villain who didn’t think of himself as the bad guy. On the surface, he appeared cold and calm, like a frozen river.

  Stein smiled as he came closer, but there was something in the smile Leda couldn’t decipher. Something...almost soft. A hint of warmth? Apology? She turned away, the restraint on her neck tightening a fraction. She crushed her hands into fists on the armrests. If she got her hands on the traitor, she’d choke the very last breath from his lungs, and she’d enjoy every second.

  How could you betray your entire planet, Stein?

  “I see you’re acquainted with my friend.” Tuva unclipped the case and lifted the lid. From this angle, Leda couldn’t see what was inside, but she didn’t need to be a genius to guess. “I must admit, it was quite a shock to see him this way, but then, I’ve always known her as Sofia.”

  Under any other circumstances, Leda would have asked what Tuva meant, but fear drove away the last of Leda’s curious nature. She remained stiff in the chair, the press of metal on her neck and wrists a cold threat.

  “No more defiance?” Tuva pouted and lifted something from the case. A glint of silver flashed, menacing. “You won’t stay silent for long.”

  Stein took another step forward. “I thought you said you wanted the bounty.”

&nbs
p; “Oh, I do.” Tuva pressed the tip of a small, sharp instrument to her index finger. A small drop of silver blood fell down the scalpel, turning to glittery ash before it reached the handle, sparkling down to the floor around Tuva’s boots. “But first I want some answers, and I never can trust the things people say when they’re not under duress.”

  Stein grabbed Tuva’s wrist. “You promised no one would get hurt,” he said, almost too low for Leda to hear.

  Tuva jerked away, fire in her eyes. “I lied. Does this girl mean so much to you that you’d give up your beliefs to protect her?”

  For a long moment, Stein held Tuva’s hard glare in silent defiance. Then he relaxed his stance, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “She means nothing to me. Do whatever you want, but remember, she needs to be in one piece in order to collect the full reward.” Stein spun on his boots and left the room, the door swishing shut after him.

  “Hamit,” Tuva said, “you may go. Stay just outside the door, in case I need you.”

  The guard followed the path Stein had taken, and then Leda was alone with Tuva. Sweat purled on Leda’s brow as Tuva laid out the tools, one at a time, as if putting on a show, and fear rippled in Leda’s stomach with each glint of dim overhead lights on sharp instruments. Tuva paused, holding one up, the three sharp, twisted prongs like a deformed, arthritic hand on a pole as long as her forearm.

  “You know, I’m actually one of the good guys, Leda.” She smiled, then set the claw down and lifted a short, curved blade with a hook on the end from the case.

  Leda snorted. “The only people who say that are the ones who know deep down, they’re inherently evil.”

  “Inherently evil,” Tuva repeated, keeping her back to Leda. “What a delightful phrase.”

  “I’ve got plenty more,” Leda spat.

  “I’m sure you have. Ah, this one’s my personal favorite,” Tuva purred, turning to face Leda. “You see the handle? Carved by an ancient method, known only to the craftsmen who continue creating these blades inside caves on a hot, dry planet they were forced to flee to after the Elders took over on Aurelis.” She held the blade under her nose. “You can almost smell the sweat and tears that went into creating such a beautiful dagger.”

  That settled it: Tuva was not right in the head. At all. Leda shivered, her muscles taut in the chair.

  When Leda didn’t respond, Tuva scowled. “See, this is the problem we have with Aurelite culture. The utter lack of respect for anything but what you believe in. There’s more than one race on Aurelis, you know!”

  “No,” Leda said, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

  Tuva filled her lungs twice, so deep that her chest rose and fell visibly. “Right. The whole born-on-Earth thing. I wonder how that’ll affect the weapon.”

  The echo of heels clacked on the floor as Tuva sauntered toward Leda, trapped in the chair. Tuva stroked the blade’s sharp tip down the side of Leda’s jaw to her neck. Her breath hitched. Her pulse throbbed against the point, and Tuva made a satisfied noise.

  Then she sighed, pulling the blade away from Leda’s throat. “I don’t enjoy this, you know.”

  Leda hissed out a relieved breath. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  Tuva made a wide circle around Leda’s chair, dragging the blade along the surfaces beneath Leda’s arms and legs. She stopped behind Leda, and a bolt of cold fear dropped down her spine. Tuva laughed, as if she could sense what Leda felt. “See, the thing about torture is letting the prisoner think you’ll do anything to get what you want.”

  “Isn’t that kind of counter-productive? Giving away the tricks of the trade?”

  Tuva came around to the front of the chair, facing Leda. “Not at all. And the reason is this: I’m not afraid to keep you locked away in some deep, dark place where no one will ever find you. Would you like to know why?”

  Leda’s teeth clenched, an involuntary reaction—a silent warning from her brain. Don’t make the psycho angry.

  Tuva must not have expected an answer. She tapped the blade to each of her fingertips as she continued. “It’s simple, really. Whoever controls the weapon, controls Aurelis. As fate would have it, I’ve got you right where I want you.” She leaned over Leda, the scent of something sweet mingling with sweat filled her nostrils, a dizzying combination. Tuva whispered, “And just between you and me? You’re not leaving this room in one piece.”

  For a moment, Leda forgot to breathe. Then, as the words sank into her head, her lungs seized and sputtered. She shut her eyes, tears squeezing from the corners. A small part of her screamed, Don’t give up hope. But hope was a long way from here.

  Pain slammed through Leda’s cheek, and a sharp crack echoed in the room. She snapped her eyes open to see Tuva standing over her, lips curled, nostrils flared, hand raised again.

  “Stay with me, Earth girl,” Tuva said. “’Cause this is going to take all night.”

  The first punch landed in her gut, just below the ribs. The second came a little higher and brought a snap of pain that radiated through her rib cage and up her spine like a bomb blast. She gasped, her body tense against the restraints, wanting to protect itself but unable to.

  Tuva’s lips curved, her eyes brightened. “You react well to pain. High tolerance?”

  Unwilling to give the evil witch any ammunition, Leda bit her lip so she wouldn’t spit in Tuva’s face.

  Tuva leaped onto the chair lightning fast, her hands grabbing Leda’s upper arms with a biting grip. Her forehead collided with Leda’s nose. Starbursts flashed across her vision and blood spurted from her nostrils. Tears stung her eyes. Her face throbbed, but she held back her cry of pain, held her breath.

  “Not a big talker now, huh.” Tuva flew away from the chair and landed on the floor without losing her balance in the tall heels. She circled Leda once more, this time stopping at the table.

  Leda’s pulse kicked up but she forced herself not to react. Tuva wants to know she’s getting to you. Don’t let her see you’re in pain.

  A dark shadow to the left. Tuva had reappeared, holding the claw tool. “I thought I’d bring this baby out early. Give you a little taste of real pain.” At Leda’s hitched breath, Tuva chuckled, the sound menacing. “I bet you’re wondering what it does.”

  Leda’s mind filled in the vague blank, horrifying visions flashing before her. At the angle Tuva held the device, it looked as though it would pierce both Leda’s eyes and the final claw was aimed at one of her nostrils. Like some alien version of the tool the ancient Egyptians used to remove the brains from a body before mummification.

  “It’s ingenious, really.” Tuva tapped a button on the side of the pole, so tiny Leda almost hadn’t seen it.

  The three claws widened as Tuva moved the device above Leda’s head. She couldn’t look up to see with her neck secured in place, but Leda heard a flick, then a buzz and whir. Sharp electric tingles danced over her scalp.

  “This little thing, called a reader, tells me what you fear most of all. As an added bonus, it hurts like hell. Makes the torture process that much easier.”

  Leda felt the crackles dial up another notch, the pain shooting down her spine, straight to her toes. She focused on that, on the feeling she hadn’t had since childhood, rather than the images of Dad in a hospital bed, wasting away. Or Mom’s sneering face before Leda activated Equinox’s weapons.

  It seemed like she lost consciousness at one point, but Tuva revived her with a fist to the jaw. By the time the blackness ate away every thought in her mind, Leda was delirious.

  She wasn’t sure when Tuva ended the torture. All Leda knew was a pounding in her skull and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She felt her body lifting up. Floating.

  The next time she woke, she was face-down on the hard floor of the cell, her body damp from a puddle of silvery, ashen vomit beneath her. The moment she lifted her head, a pair of boots filled her vision, catching the gleam from lights above.

  “I’m sorry,” a voice
said softly, but the sound pierced her brain, a thousand needles. “I didn’t know she would…”

  But Leda heard no more, covering her ears with her hands, desperate for a moment of respite from the pain.

  I have to escape. Somehow.

  It took Oline two hours to find the trail. She said the other ship must have been using a new technology to try and hide the energy signature left behind when strathium passed through the drive. She found them eventually, and the trail wasn’t so cold that they couldn’t follow, but each time they lost the energy signature they were searching for, she’d have to recalibrate the systems again.

  Roar typed the first set of coordinates in and took them out, performing several leaps in the hopes of reaching them faster. When the sensors lost the trail, the ship dropped from strath-space. While Oline traced the surrounding space for the energy signature, Roar ran a check of Equinox’s database for any mention of another Avenger Class.

  He found one file and spent the last hour digging through it. The file said there were plans drawn up for a second ship, but the Council of Elders vetoed the plans until after the war ended. All materials were necessary to build the Týr Class battleships Aurelis needed to defend the planet.

  Arne was sitting beside him, and his expression looked as pained as Roar felt. Arne opened his mouth to speak but—

  Nils burst into the security station, followed by Rika, both talking at once. The only words Roar heard were “tracker” and “Woede.” A fine sheen of sweat broke out all over, and Roar swiped his brow as he stood.

  “One at a time.” Roar looked to Nils first.

  Nils held out a canister with the thing they’d removed from Leda inside. Black tentacles swished in the liquid. “It’s a Woede tracker. They start off small, like the size of a thumb, and grow exponentially over time. They must have put it in her at some point. Like, the last time she had surgery.”

  Rika nodded. “Judging by the size of the creature, and the opportunities available to insert the tracker, I’d say it’s been in her for six years.”