by Frankie Rose
“I don’t give a shit if the storm swallows you up and eats you alive. I won’t go anywhere without that bag, Col Pakka.” I step off, down the other side of the dune, heading in the direction of the storm. I can feel the sand trying to claim me already, in my hair, scratching at my skin, crunching between my teeth like grit. Col grabs me by the arm, snarling under his breath.
“You think a couple of changes of clothes are going to be of use to you here? Come on, Jass. We’ll find you something new to wear once we’re safely inside the sub city. Until then, I’m sure you’ll manage.”
I wrench my arm free, pinning him under an openly hostile glare. Like I give a damn about the clean clothes I packed for myself. Like I care about the rations, or the water. There is only one thing in that bag that I care about, and it’s not something I’ll be able to come by here on this godforsaken planet. The vials of Light I stowed at the bottom of the bag may not have even survived the crash, but I have to look for them. I have to make sure. I’ve been weaning myself off the dose, cycle after cycle, trying to control it, and for the most part I have been successful. Despite my efforts, though, I’m still an addict. I still can’t survive forever without the stuff. If I’m being honest with myself, I know in three days I’ll be trying to claw the skin from my own body and sweating like I’m being roasted in a furnace. It will not be pretty.
I keep walking down the sand dune.
“Jass! You’re fucking crazy!” Col hollers after me.
Maybe I am. But this fighter, with his horribly inappropriate sense of humor and apparent lack of fear or common sense, will not like the man I become without my dose of Light. I’ll seem like a picnic right now by comparison. I can’t explain this to him. If I tell him I need the bag because of the Light that’s stowed inside it, I’ll be admitting another weakness. I can’t appear to have any chinks in my armor. He’ll take the information and use it against me. He’ll tell these seers he keeps speaking of. He’ll tell her.
The sand shifts and slides under my boots as I scramble up the side of another dune. I use my hands to climb, but it doesn’t seem to help. I make very slow, grueling progress, and the pain in my ribcage grows worse by the second. I’ve nearly reached the top of the dune when my heel snags on something and I’m falling back down again, scrambling, wrestling to try and stop myself from slipping down to the very bottom of the dune. No good, though. I end up rolling, tumbling, the black Construct cape that’s been a part of my uniform for so many cycles wrapping tightly around my body, blotting out the light. At the foot of the dune, I fight my way out of the cape, only to find Col Pakka attached to the end of my foot, his hand wrapped around my ankle. So I didn’t trip, then. I was pulled back down. My temper flares. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to keep it in check thus far, but now my fury sears my vision, turning everything red, distorting the suns and the dunes surrounding us.
“You’re touching me,” I hiss. “You clearly don’t value your life.”
Col rolls onto his back, panting, staring straight up at the sky overhead. “I know. Crazy, right? I’m not usually one for confrontation. I’m as surprised as you are. I’m a pilot, y’know? I’m not typically assigned roles like this. And I sure as hell haven’t ever been sent somewhere on my own. I get that this may—”
I clench my fist, curling my fingers into my palm one at a time, concentrating my attention on Col’s chest. I flex my mind, imagining the breaks in his ribs. Three of them. I can sense each one clearly. I flex a little further, and then there are four breaks. Col lets out an agonized yell, doubling over, clutching at his side, his rambling statement cutting off as he wheezes, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Don’t touch me. Do not try and stop me.” I get up, and I start to climb again. I make it over the first dune, and then a second. The third is high and steep, and takes me a full ten minutes to labor up, by which time the wall of the storm is only a few minutes away. I stand at the top of the dune, my cape flapping crazily behind me in the rising winds, my hair blowing around my face. I twist around to look behind me: Col is right where I left him, lying in the sand. My vision is excellent, but I can’t tell if his eyes are open or not. He may have passed out from the fresh onslaught of pain I visited on him, or he might still be awake, merely catching his breath. Either way, it serves him right for interfering.
I turn back to face the storm and I calculate how long it will take me to search each broken piece of the raptor. Longer than I have before the storm hits, that’s for sure. Col was right about that. Still. It’ll be fine. I push forward, breathing hard as I tackle another dune, and then another. The first sections of the raptor I pick through are nothing more than bent, misshapen hunks of metal. I reach the Raptor’s main hull just as the wall of the storm hits, enveloping the world in sudden darkness. Acting quickly, I create a field around myself, pushing back the sand particles, so that they hit an invisible wall a few inches from my body. Occasionally one of two particles break through the shield, striking my skin, burning, but for the most part I am safe. I hunt and kick through the remains of the raptor, blindly overturning torn seats and safety harnesses, storage bins, and chunks of electronic panels, before something forces me to stop in my tracks. How deep is this storm? How long will it rage? Col seemed to think we’d need to hunker down and wait a long time for it to pass. And he’s lying there, on his back, consumed by the storm and the sand right now, unable to move, unable to breathe…
I should damn well leave him there. I should just be rid of him once and for all. But if I do nothing and the man dies…
Scowling, I cast out a mental probe, searching for Col. The dunes were annoying and difficult to climb, but the distance I actually travelled was minimal. He shouldn’t be too far away. I should easily be able to locate him and place the same kind of shield around his body that I’ve placed around mine while I continue looking for the bag. It’ll cost me nothing energy-wise. He should be—
I stop marching forward through the storm. I angle my shoulders, tilting my head to one side, analyzing my senses. I’ve found Col, but he’s not where I left him any longer. And there’s someone else with him. Someone…strange. An unknown to me—a kind of creature I’ve never experienced before, which is odd, considering the Construct have made it their business to root out, assess, (and enslave) all life forms within their grasp. This entity, whatever it is, is intelligent. I can feel the sharp edge of its mind, reaching out, scanning and searching in the same way I am. I sense its consciousness comb over me, almost as tangible as a physical touch. I shy away, stepping backward, as if I can remove myself from its reach. How the hell is it doing that? How the hell can it do that? No species is capable of utilizing its mind as a tool in the same way I can. None of them can, plain and simple. I would have known. I would have found them…
I turn and press forward toward the crash site, more focused than ever on finding the Light. I’m stronger than usual when I dose. My reactions are through the roof. I can cordon off my mind, more importantly, shutting my consciousness away in a tightly locked rook inside my head without even trying, preventing anyone or anything from breaking through. It was paranoia that drove me to learn how to protect myself in that way, rather than experience, but right now I’m glad to know I can shut this intruder out. I need to find that Light. I need to find it right now. I push forward, hoping to find the rest of the raptor, but the storm is raging so fiercely now that it’s almost impossible to tell up from down, let alone north from south. The wind howls, and along with it comes the lonely sound of some kind of creature, keening at the storm. My ears rush. My eyes sting beyond comprehension.
I can’t find the rest of the raptor. I should be able to reach out with my mind and locate it, but even my powers are limited. I’m concentrating so hard on Col and his mystery friend that I can’t spare any energy to track down the crash site. Prioritizing and categorizing danger is the only way to stay alive, and I’ve gotten good at it. I reel through the storm, staggering from left to right, waiting to
get lucky, only it doesn’t happen. I sense Col and his friend moving. Moving away from my location. They must have assumed I’m dead. A reasonable assumption. No normal person could stay alive in a brutal storm like this. I smirk to myself as I continue forward, and for a moment I see everything working out perfectly. Col and his friends will think I’m gone. They’ll let their guard down. They won’t be looking for me. I’ll be free to go wherever I please. I will track down the girl using my senses alone. I can feel her here so clearly, so perfectly. I can sense her fear even as I press onward through the storm. She’s anxious. She…she knows. She feels me here, as I feel her. This revelation has me worried. If she’s working with these seers, then she’ll be able to confirm that I’m not dead. If her skills are as sharp as mine, she’ll be able to lead them right to me. That won’t do. That won’t—
A vicious, bright pain burns suddenly in the back of my neck. Out of nowhere, my shield comes crashing down as I struggle to suck in a breath of air. What the…? What the fuck? I press my hand to the back of my neck, and my fingers make contact with something cool. Something hard. Something metal. A needle. Some…some kind of dart? The anger I felt at Col for trying to stop me from finding my bag is nothing compared to the rage that fills me now. Someone shot me with a dart gun?
My thoughts slow. This…this cannot be happening. This is not good.
Confusion swamps me. I just…don’t…I just don’t understand. How did they get close enough to attack? I’m still monitoring Col and the other being as they move further and further away from me, way beyond the range of even the most high tech dart gun. I release them from my mental focus and I throw my consciousness out wide, casting a net over the desert. There has to be an explanation for this. There just has to be.
And then, there, on the edge of the storm, I feel him. A lone soldier. Another unknown creature. Such an unrecognizable life sign, just as unique as the other. I’ve been foolish. I should never have shut off the realms of my mind. I should have remained vigilant. I should have made sure my senses were still on high alert, because there weren’t two of them out there in the devastating, swirling sand.
There were three.
NINE
REZA
SLOW BURN
4 Cycles Ago
The Invictus is burning. I know it’s the Invictus, because the ship’s name is emblazoned in yellow paint across the steel inner hull right in front of me. Aside from that, I remember the scene unfolding out of the view port of the escape pod I’m sitting in. General Stryker, face covered in blood, stalking from one end of the launch bay to the other, shooting any soldier who got in his way. The throb, whine and the pop of phase rifles, going off everywhere. The smell of burning hair and metal, contaminating the air. The taste of my own blood on my tongue. And Jass Beylar, standing on the deck outside my escape pod, hand stretched out, preventing me from leaving the doomed vessel.
My heart rate spikes. I know this is a dream. I know I’ve been living on Pirius for the past three cycles, and that I’m going to be safe when I open my eyes. I can’t make that knowledge stick, though. It all feels so real. It all feels like it’s happening right now. Gods, I have to get out of here. I have to leave. The whole ship’s unstable; it’s likely to blow any second. This will be my last chance to flee this place. I won’t get another opportunity like it. If I don’t free myself from this prison now, I’ll never be free.
A needling sensation pushes at the boundaries of my mind, and I raise up my mental shields, easy as flicking a switch. Jass is trying to get inside my head. He wants to control me. To make me submit to him. I won’t do it, though. I’ll never submit to him.
“What do you think would’ve happened if I’d managed to hold you back that day?” Jass’ voice startles me. I nearly leap out of the pod’s command chair, a loud cry of alarm ripping from my throat. I spin around, and there he is behind me, a thin line of blood streaking down his cheek. His Construct uniform is burned on his left arm and torn at the collar. A black smudge runs down his temple, staining his cheekbone. Leaning forward, he hits a number of buttons on the control panel and the escape pod lurches forward, hurtling toward the open launch bay doors.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “You weren’t in here that day.”
Jass adjusts the pod’s nav systems again, still hovering over me, and then he leans back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Fire blooms like angry red and orange flowers around us as the pod flies out of the Invictus at top speed. “I can afford a little artistic license, I think. I’ve had a shitty day.”
“Ahh, poor Jass. Didn’t meet your kill quota for the quarter? Has Governor Regis removed your privileges?”
He pouts, running a gloved hand down the support strut next to him, apparently studying it. “I couldn’t sense you today. I thought…I thought maybe something had happened.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s lying. He sounds like he’s actually, genuinely concerned. I sit back into the control chair, and I allow my eyes to travel over him from head to foot. There’s a pensive, restless air to him tonight. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright and alert, roving over me with an intensity he normally tries to conceal. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to make him feel better, or why I should even want to make him feel better.
“I was underground,” I tell him, frowning. “Maybe my distance below the surface dimmed our connection. Made it hard for you to detect me.”
Jass taps a fingernail against the support strut, his lips parting ever so slightly. “Maybe.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll be sure to spend more time underground from now on,” I say sharply. The escape pod’s a thousand feet from the ship now. It stops of its own accord, listing for a second before Jass jerks his head and the entire pod spins around on an invisible axis, until the view port is facing back toward the burning craft. The Invictus, the ship on which I spent eight long years learning how to survive, looks like it’s finally spent. The entire starboard section that used to house the personnel quarters is now missing. Nothing remains but a jagged tear in the ship’s metal work; it looks like some huge creature came along and tore the sector away with its bare teeth. Beyond the ship, the planet Darax is still sending volley after volley of phase missiles up to destroy the vessel locked in its orbit. Huge swathes of blue and green and yellow mark out the landmasses, the oceans, and the deserts on the surface. It’s beautiful. The whole scene of destruction and carnage is kind of beautiful in its own way.
“You need to be able to see the stars overhead at night,” Jass says quietly. “You’d never be able to live underground. Not permanently, anyway.”
Have I told him how often I sit outside my shack at night, whenever the skies on Pirius are clear, and I stare up at the stars? Have I told him how they comfort me? Did I confess this to him during one of our other meetings like this? I can’t remember. He could have raided my memories or my emotions at some point. He could have taken that information against my will, or he could have just guessed. How he discovered this about me doesn’t really matter. It makes me feel distorted and twisted inside to think that he knows me so well.
Slowly, The Invictus begins to roll, spinning inward toward the planet. Jass hisses through his teeth; I don’t think I’m supposed to hear his reaction to what’s happening in front of us, but I do. “I thought the ship exploded,” I say. “It impacted with Darax’s atmosphere?”
“It did more than that. It crashed down to the planet’s surface.”
I whip my head around, looking for the deception on Jass’ face. There isn’t any, though. “You should be dead, then. You didn’t leave the ship. You stayed behind. I saw you standing there on the deck as the pod left.”
Jass’ eyes are rimmed with bright, blazing gold. Somehow, there’s more blood on his face. His cheeks and forehead are flecked with it. And his shirt…I didn’t notice before, but it’s soaked through and sticky with blood, too. He winces as he slides down the wall, landing on his
ass. “I should have died a thousand times by now, Reza. I keep managing to dust myself off, though.”
My hands won’t work as I fumble with the safety harness strapping me into the control chair. It takes me far too long to get the damn thing open. Once I’m free, I drop down to the floor beside Jass, holding my hand to his forehead. He’s cold. So, so cold. “What happened? What happened to you that day? And why in seven hells are you choosing to relive it right now?”
He flashes me a brief, broken smile as he clutches at his chest. “I went down with the ship. If I’d gone after you…they would have followed me. They would have stopped you. They’d have taken you back.”
Something unpleasant and sharp feels like it’s stabbing into my head. I can’t think for a minute. Can barely breathe. “So...you chose to let me go?” I whisper. “Why? Why would you do that, when you were so hell bent on trying to stop me at first?”
Another broken smile. “I didn’t care if you stayed with on the ship, Reza. I just wanted you to stay with me. When that wasn’t going to be possible…” His voice cracks a little, and more blood flecks from his lips. He’s dying. I can feel it in the very root of my soul. It feels crushing and terrible, and I can’t allow it to happen. Pressing both my hands against his chest, I apply pressure to his wounds.
“End this, Jass. For all the gods’ sakes end it. Take us somewhere else.”
His eyes are sad and filled with pain. He reaches up and strokes his fingers against my cheek, his eyes studying my features in the most fascinated way. “Where would you like to go?” he rasps.
“Anywhere but here. Please. I can’t…I can’t bear it.”
I’d be this distraught over any injured person. I’d be this torn apart by anyone suffering this badly. That’s what I tell myself. Jass closes his eyes, and there’s a flicker in my vision. A sensation of falling. The walls of the escape pod fall away, and in their place a brightly lit Construct med center materializes.
