by Dan Krokos
Mason tapped the skin below his left ear to activate the tiny com unit implanted underneath. It was standard-issue and every member of the Earth Space Command was required to have one. He thought about Tom as he tapped it, and a channel opened to him. Tom knew computers better than most cadets ready to leave Academy II, better than most general crew, too, and Mason couldn’t deny it. He was the last person Mason wanted to call, but the only one who could get him out.
A soft buzz in his ear meant the com was ringing on the other end; Mason bit his lip, wondering if Tom would pick up. Tom would come if only to scold him about the dangers of tampering with equipment. He was technically a year younger than Mason at twelve, but they were really born a few weeks apart in the same hospital. While Mason’s parents had died in the First Attack, Tom’s hadn’t. His mom was captain of the Egypt, and his dad was a vice admiral at the space station Olympus.
Mason and Tom didn’t really talk much if they didn’t have to. Tom seemed to think he knew everything because his mom was captain. Mason disagreed. The problem was, the other cadets didn’t. I should’ve called Merrin, Mason thought as the com kept buzzing. Merrin might’ve had trouble getting him out, but she’d be happy to see him, at least.
Mason had met Tom and the other cadets years before at Academy I, but most of them were in different units, so Mason didn’t really know them, not well. Now that Mason was graduating from Academy I, he’d been selected to log his spacetime on the SS Egypt, along with seventeen other cadets from different years. Two weeks earlier, the Egypt had left the space station Olympus with eighteen cadets on board, for a routine patrol that would end with the cadets getting off for a new year at Academy I. Or, in the case of Mason, Merrin, Tom, Jeremy, and Stellan: Academy II. The big show, where training got real.
There was an incident ten days ago, when Tom lost a foot race because Mason turned on the magnetic flooring on Tom’s side of the hallway. The cadets had been bored in the middle of the night, and Jeremy had mentioned how he was a good sprinter, and Tom had said something like, “I bet I’m faster.”
To which Jeremy replied, “I bet you’re really not.”
During the race, Mason used a wall console to activate the magnets, not really knowing why he was doing it. The magnets were only activated for a split second, so it appeared like Tom fell on his own. Humility in the face of glory.
Tom stood up and looked at his skinned palms, then pressed them against his uniform. “Who did that?”
Mason raised his hand. “I did.”
Tom nodded while frowning, like he was considering this information. Then he stalked forward and executed a perfect straight punch to Mason’s chin. Tom had clearly been paying attention during hand-to-hand combat training. Mason took the hit because he knew everyone was watching, and then he swung his elbow into Tom’s cheek.
Then Jeremy knocked their heads together, hard enough to make them stop. “You’re gonna get all of us in trouble,” he said.
“Whatever,” Tom said. “Mason’s only here because his parents died and they had nowhere to put him.”
A few cadets gasped. Mason felt something cold open inside his chest.
Tom took a breath, looking stunned.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said. “Hey, I didn’t mean that. I’m just mad.”
Mason nodded and fought hard to keep his eyes on Tom’s face, not on the floor.
“Shake hands,” Jeremy commanded.
They did, firmly. Mason knew what it was like to say things you didn’t mean, to just have them vomit out, and then feel that crushing ache when you realized you could never pull them back.
It was only two years ago when Susan was visiting him at Academy I and trying to offer some helpful advice that Mason said, “You’re not Mom. Okay?” Susan’s eyes had glazed shiny with tears, and Mason had apologized a thousand times after, but his words still stuck in his lungs when he remembered them.
Anyway, Tom hadn’t acted so superior after their little brawl and handshake. Wasn’t that the kind of progress the ESC was constantly striving for?
* * *
Tom finally picked up after nine buzzes and said, “Cadet Stark,” in a flat tone that seemed to convey all the annoyance anyone had ever felt toward Mason. Or anyone else in the galaxy.
“Tom, hi. I need you to come break me out of the brig. Please.” He became light on his feet as the Egypt began to dive, until the synthetic gravity compensated. If they were diving, did that mean they were trying to escape the Tremist? Why not just drop a cross gate and disappear? Then again, there was nothing to stop the Tremist from following them right through the gate, if they were already close. And clearly they were close.
“What are you doing in the brig?” Tom’s voice crackled with impatience, like Mason had caught him in the middle of some huge project that required all of his attention.
“My sister put me here.”
“Then I think it’s best for you to remain there until your sister or my mother comes to free you. I highly doubt they gave you com privileges.”
Typical Tom response. Mason wanted to punch the wall. Six days into their journey, Mason and a few others talked about raiding one of the kitchens because the cook had made actual cake that day, with real eggs and sugar. Tom had looked bored, then recited the codes they’d be violating from memory. No one got cake. Then, as if to prove he wasn’t all about codes and rules, Tom went to get the cake himself. Anticipating this reversal, Mason got to the cake first. It earned him a few points with the other cadets. But Mason still couldn’t tell if Tom was a stuck-up, icy cadet or someone who might be relaxed and capable of fun.
He should’ve known better than to ask for help from the captain’s son.
“Please, Tom. What if we’re boarded? The Tremist would kill me on the spot.” He said it to help convince Tom, but it was also probably true. Unless the Tremist thought a young cadet was a useful hostage, they’d turn Mason into a tasty snack. The thought of seeing one in the flesh gave Mason a chill that was a cross between excitement and pure, sick fear. He wondered what they looked like under their mirror-masks. It was rumored the ESC knew exactly what they looked like, but wouldn’t share with anyone. It didn’t seem fair to hide an enemy that, if the rumors were true, wanted to drink Mason’s blood, or shapeshift into a werewolf, or whatever the current rumor was.
“They’d kill me, Tom.” Mason injected a little more desperation into his voice.
Tom said, “The Egypt has only two access ports, both heavily guard—”
“Tom.”
“Only if you call me Thomas. I keep asking you to do that.” His words were garbled by shouting cadets: Look look! The claws are unfolding! No, pull up a different angle! Mason’s desire to see what was going on outside was now a physical itch.
“Fine, Thomas! Get me out of here!”
The link went dead. Mason wondered if Tom wasn’t really coming, but it only took about thirty seconds for him to show up with Merrin Solace. Just the sight of her made his stomach unclench: Merrin was his only true friend, the only cadet onboard he really knew.
He’d known her since before Academy I. Mason had stowed away on a cruiser to join the academy a full year early; as a member of a military family, he’d been guaranteed a spot. Staying on Earth for regular schooling was not an option: Mason wanted to learn about space, to be a soldier like his sister. Susan had already graduated to Academy II, and Mason was sick of waiting for his turn. But his plan didn’t work: the ESC sent him home, with a meaningless fine, since he didn’t have any parents to pay. But Mason and Merrin promised to meet up next year, when they started Academy I for real. And they did. They’d been friends ever since.
Merrin was … different. Her long hair was dyed violet to match her eyes, and her skin was so pale sometimes Mason could see the veins underneath. Her blood looked as purple as her eyes and hair, if the light was right. Mason had asked her once if she was sick, if that’s why her blood was a different color and her skin was so clear.
Her eyes had gotten all wide. Then her brow furrowed. “No,” she said. “Are you?” And that was the end of it.
Tom, on the other hand, looked more like Susan’s brother than Mason did. He had dark hair and eyes, and always seemed to be studying whatever he was looking at. It made him look, in Mason’s opinion, untrustworthy. Calculating, like his mother. Not a bad quality in an ESC soldier, really, so Mason couldn’t blame him for it. But he’d never seen Tom smile, or at least one that wasn’t a smirk.
Mason nodded at them. “Hi guys.” The backup lighting dimmed suddenly, then returned to normal. Somewhere in the ship, metal whined, reminding Mason of the whale song recordings he heard while studying Earth animals.
“So … you’re in jail,” Merrin said. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”
“Surely that’s not the most interesting thing happening right now,” Mason replied.
Tom ignored them, heading straight for the port in the wall, where he plugged in his personal dataslate.
“I expect the full story later,” Merrin said, shaking her head. But she looked amused. The ship was under attack, but Merrin Solace was amused.
Tom cleared his throat. “Let it be known I am only breaking ESC regulation because your life may be in danger.”
“Let it be known,” Mason echoed, legs tingling with the desire to move move move. He imagined the Tremist making it on board, so he could try out some of the hand-to-hand combat moves he learned in his fifth and sixth year. As soon as he thought it, he took it back: if Tremist made it onto the Egypt, it would mean they were losing.
The ship had been accelerating over the last minute, but now it was slowing, and Mason had to brace himself against the left wall. Tom started to fall but Merrin’s hand darted out and grabbed Tom’s sleeve, holding him in place.
“Thank you, Merrin,” he said. Not Cadet Solace, Mason noted. When did they become friends?
“No problem.” She turned away to watch up and down the corridor.
Tom pressed a few symbols on the dataslate and the door to Mason’s cell slid open. He stepped out and clapped Tom on the shoulder. Tom looked at Mason’s hand like it was covered in barf.
“Thanks,” Mason said, removing his hand.
“You owe me.”
“I know it.”
They left the brig, and Mason breathed as a free cadet. Something smelled off with the recycled air. It tasted burnt.
“Let’s get back to the others,” Merrin suggested. They rounded a corner and passed the opening to the crossbar, the long narrow section that connected the two halves of the Egypt.
“Cadets, hold up!” Commander Lockwood was jogging toward them. Mason froze as ordered, a reflex. So did the others.
“Now you’ve got both of us in trouble, Stark,” Merrin whispered from the corner of her mouth.
Lockwood was a thin, wiry man, mostly bald, with a ring of jet-black hair around his head. Mason thought he looked like an eagle, with a hooked nose that resembled a beak, and fierce eyes that saw everything. But despite his intense appearance, Commander Lockwood at least made eye contact when he passed cadets in a hallway, unlike some of the officers who didn’t seem to know they existed.
Tom tensed up, shifting from foot to foot.
“Don’t look guilty,” Mason whispered.
Lockwood stopped a few feet away and narrowed his eyes. “Where were you going? Stark, you’re supposed to be in the brig.”
“We were—” Tom began.
Mason cut him off with, “I tricked them into helping me out. I didn’t want to stay there.”
Lockwood sighed. “Yes, well, that’s not important now. Come with me.”
He marched down the hallway toward the front of the ship, and the three cadets followed. A door opened to Mason’s right, and three crewmen wearing battle vests and carrying rifles burst through the doorway and ran in the opposite direction, toward the crossbar and the bridge.
The rifles were a red flag. The soldiers planned to be shooting inside the Egypt, or were at least preparing to.
Tom opened his mouth to ask a question, even got so far as to making a W sound, but Lockwood barked, “Keep walking!”
“What can you tell us, Commander?” Mason said quickly, as they began to jog.
“Nothing at the moment,” Lockwood said. Mason noticed the top of his head was shiny with sweat, and it caught the red lights whenever they flashed. “I need you cadets to do something special for me, can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. Responding to an order was the easy part; it was the following through that Mason was still working on.
Lockwood didn’t tell them about the something special right away. First they rode an elevator down two levels, then stepped onto a long, narrow moving walkway that sped them forward at twenty miles per hour. It took them all the way to the left front of the ship.
The segments of track slowed until they were able to easily step off next to the cadet quarters. The door opened automatically, and Lockwood basically shoved them inside. The cadets lived in an officer’s room that had been converted just for them: all the luxury furniture had been replaced with stacks of bunk beds. Until the Egypt returned to Mars to drop them off at Academy I and II, it was home.
Since it was an officer’s quarters, there was a floor-to-ceiling window at the front, giving an unobstructed view of space. Unobstructed except for the fifteen other cadets, ages seven to thirteen, who were crammed against the glass. They were all staring at something outside, and the window was tall enough to see what it was.
The Tremist ship was speeding toward them, bright and alive against the complete blackness of space.
Merrin inhaled softly, and Tom’s dataslate slipped from his fingers. Mason could only stare. It was a Hawk, a ship he’d studied inside and out at Academy I. Big, open, swooping wings connected to a narrow main body, coming to a point at the front, sharp as a hawk’s beak. The wings were twelve levels thick. The engines underneath even resembled curved talons tucked under the body. Right now they were bristling with purple energy, sending the Tremist ship into a circle above the Egypt. Like a bird circling her prey.
“Don’t be afraid,” Lockwood said behind them, quietly. “The Egypt can take care of herself.”
“I’m not,” Mason said at once. A lie, but only half of one—he was also in awe. He’d seen vids of the Hawk, of course, but to see one alive, pulsing with energy, moving effortlessly, making the Egypt look as clumsy as a bathtub in a lake … that was something else. It was smaller than the Egypt, but the swooping wings and weapon clusters under those wings more than made up for it in menace.
Tom asked, “Commander? Why aren’t we firing?”
Lockwood was about to say something—his lip twitched, and he made a noise in his throat—the start of a word—and Mason knew right away that whatever it was, it would be a lie.
Merrin gave Mason a look: He’s definitely about to lie. Merrin was better than anyone at reading people, but Mason had slowly been learning from her over the years.
Instead of lying, Lockwood just shouted, “Cadets! Attention!”
The cadets spun around and scrambled to stand at attention in front of their bunks, forming two lines on either side, seven on the left and eight on the right. Mason, Merrin, and Tom joined them.
“At ease,” Lockwood said. The cadets relaxed but didn’t move. “I don’t want any of you to worry. Captain Renner believes the Tremist ship is trying to make contact. I wish I could say more, but you’re to remain here until an officer comes to retrieve you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Commander,” the cadets replied in unison. Mason had his fingers crossed, realizing Lockwood’s “special” task was just to stay put. Next to him, Merrin tapped his thigh with her own crossed fingers. “Good. The cadet who disobeys this order will do time in the brig, and possibly be sent back a year in school.”
With that he left the room, manually shutting the door behind him.
&nbs
p; They all heard the lock thunk down inside the door.
“Son of Zeus,” one cadet mumbled, a curse that could earn him five laps up and down the ship. Another cadet laughed, and a few seconds later they were all pressed against the window again, searching for the Hawk.
Though the Hawk was no longer visible from this angle, an eerie light filled the room, painting the cadets’ faces a ghastly green.
It was growing brighter.
Mason knew what it was instantly: the weapon clusters under the wings were charging up. A few of the cadets who paid attention that day in class seemed to know it too—they were backing away, hands automatically reaching for things to hold on to.
“Brace—!” Mason began to yell. He barely had time to grab hold of a bunk before the Egypt made a terrible sound somewhere between a roar and a scream, and the floor dropped out from under them.
Chapter Three
The war came about, as Mason was taught, because two races were really bad at taking care of what they had.
What both races wanted was a planet: Nori-Blue. It was one of three known planets in the galaxy that humans could thrive on. Nori-Blue was covered in forests from pole to pole, with a single ocean smaller than the Atlantic back home. The temperature ranged from fifty to seventy degrees year round, because the planet’s axis was the same tilt at all times. Some creatures lived on the surface, but none like humans, and certainly none like the Tremist. Which meant it was the perfect place for humans to go now that the population was over eighteen billion: Earth was simply running out of places to put people, even with the dozens of minor settlements in the galaxy.
Nori-Blue had rivers and lakes and edible plants that grew fruits more delicious than any on Earth. The air was nineteen percent oxygen, perfectly breathable. It was only slightly smaller than Earth, too, so the gravity was suitable. It was rumored that you could jump twice as high on Nori-Blue, but Mason did the calculations in his advanced math class, and it would only be around one and a half times.
