Black Moon Rising

by Frankie Rose

  I shake my head. “He said he’d wake up when he had to and not a moment sooner.”

  Darius scowls—an expression I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make before. “Stubborn boy. He will have to if a hundred Pirians turn up at my bedroom door with torches and knives, demanding I turn him over.”

  “You really think anyone will be brave enough?” Col asks. “Everyone knows what he’s capable of, Darius. It’s more likely everyone will try and flee the sub city to get away from him. That would be a disaster. People would die in the panic.”

  “People of Pirius! We are gathered here this evening to announce the new chancellor of the first sector!” a hollow voice booms over the hubbub filling the appointments room. An almost immediate silence takes effect, and everyone turns to face the dais, waiting expectantly for the very round, very rosy looking seer on the far side of the platform to continue. I hadn’t even realized the dais had filled up so much. Col and Darius both look frustrated that their hushed conversation has been cut short, but there’s no way for them to continue discussing Jass now, with so many eyes pointed in their direction.

  “As you entered the hall, all verified residents of the first sector cast their votes, and we have been diligently tallying the results for the past hour. I am now able to say that the count is complete, and a new chancellor has, indeed, been selected. By a hundred and thirty seven votes, the new chancellor of the first sector is…”

  There is no fanfare or drum roll. Only tense silence as the large man in the capacious robes waves his hands in the air with an unnecessary flourish.

  “…Chancellor Farren, of the third sector!” he cries.

  My heart stumbles to a dead stop in my chest. What? Farren? I don’t know why, but I assumed, deep down, that Col was going to win. The odds were stacked against him, but he’s a good man. Well liked and respected. “I thought Farren couldn’t legitimately win?” I hiss to Darius. He appears as stunned as me, though he’s managed to keep his jaw from hanging open.

  “He can’t,” he answers. “At least, he shouldn’t be able to. But in this case it looks like the people have spoken. A hundred and thirty seven votes is irrefutable. They want him to be their new leader. I won’t be able to put a stop to this.”

  Farren steps to the front of the dais and holds his arms aloft over his head, grinning down on his new constituents. “This is a momentous day for Pirius. I am honored to be the first chancellor to preside over more than half of the sub city, and I swear to each and every one of you that I will carry out my duties with integrity and dignity, always putting the needs of my people first.” He manages a snide sidelong look at Col when he says this. His message is loud and clear: you are not welcome here. You are not one of us.

  I hold my breath, waiting for Farren to speak the words that will spell disaster for these people. To tell the assembly that they have had Jass Beylar in their midst for nearly two weeks now. When the Pirians find out, there will be madness and disorder. The exit routes won’t be able to accommodate the sheer volume of bodies that try and flow out of them. There will be tunnel collapses. Trampling. Clawing. Death. My mind spins as I try and calculate how we will get out, ourselves. If the exits are blocked by bodies and rock falls, it’ll be almost impossible to make it to the surface. It would be possible to excavate the tunnels, but with so many extra people here in the first sector for the election, would the ventilation shafts be able to cope with the higher demand for oxygen?

  I do the math.

  I do it again.

  The results do not look good.

  Col is on tenterhooks, standing beside me. By the looks of things, he’s sharing my trepidation, waiting for the axe to fall. Darius is a statue in a black robe, not even blinking, a small, serene smile on his face as he listens to Farren’s acceptance speech. I have no idea how he can even think to smile at a time like this. Darius and Erika purposefully sent Col out into the galaxy to find Jass and bring him here. He wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for me, though. If I didn’t exist or I’d died back on the Invictus when it was attacked by those pirates, Jass wouldn’t have abandoned his base. There would have been no connection between us driving him to find me. He would have no idea this little colony of people existed in relative harmony on Pirius.

  Nausea digs its fingers into my belly. Farren’s smug voice echoes loudly inside the hall, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from hurling myself at him, to stop him, to shut him up. I’m smaller than him, though, and what would that look like, me attacking a newly elected official?

  It comes to me, as I’m picturing him hurting me, grinding his boot heel into my neck: a thought I shouldn’t have. A thought I should abhor and reject immediately, but instead I find myself clinging onto with both hands. I could stop him. I wouldn’t have to do it with my hands, tackling him and dragging him from the dais. I could slip oh-so-quietly into his mind, and I could prevent him from even forming the words. Better yet, I could remove the knowledge that Jass is even here in at all. Darius said it himself: I have the same capabilities and talents Jass does. The only difference is that he knows how to use those talents, is extremely skilled in utilizing them, and I am not.

  Invading someone’s mind goes against everything I believe in. If Darius knew what I was considering, it goes without saying that he would be furious with me. I have to do something, though. I have to try.

  I reach out with my mind, searching, hunting for a way inside Farren’s mind. It feels odd to even be trying such a thing. Odder still when I locate him amongst the crowd of people standing on the dais, and I feel the true levels of spite and hatred pumping out of him, directed at Col. And at me.

  He doesn’t just want us to leave Pirius. He wants us both dead. I feel tainted and dirtied by his emotions as I push against the natural wall that protects his mind and all its secrets. I am gentle, careful, not wanting to alert him to the fact that someone’s trying to slip inside his head. Treading lightly, I push and I tease, trying to find a crack in his walls or a way through them.

  “…those that would threaten our survival here on Pirius,” Farren says. “Those who have not respected the secret nature of our community. But now that we are known once more in the universe, we must take action.”

  I break through the wall. Thank the gods. Now, to figure out how to remove Jass from Farren’s memory. His mind is nothing like Jass’. It felt easy being inside Jass’ head. Natural. Like I belonged there. Farren’s head is like a maze, with no sense of up or down, left or right. I haven’t got the first clue how to proceed. I fumble blindly, hunting for the information I need to steal from the new chancellor of the first sector.

  “We mustn’t allow ourselves to be erased from the history books, simply because we were too afraid to pick up arms and defend ourselves,” he continues. “I intend to strike first against those who would claim our freedom and our lives. I intend to root out our enemies and face them head on! And to that end—” He falters amidst the crowd’s cheers and whoops, a deep, unsettled frown carving out a mark between his brows. His dark eyes glaze over, and he takes an unsteady step backward, looking around the hall.

  Shit.

  He’s discovered me. In the very least, he knows something isn’t right. He opens his mouth to speak again, and the bewilderment on his face deepens. I back off, retreating from his memories, but I’m not quick enough. Farren’s confusion turns to fury in the flicker of an eye. His head whips around, and for a moment his revulsion lands on Col’s shoulders. No more than a stretched out second, though. His focus slides to the left, and I see the instant he realizes what I’m doing. His cheeks redden, his whole body vibrating, and then I am stumbling backward, barely able to keep my footing as Farren forcefully tosses my consciousness out of his head.

  Col catches me, wrapping an arm around me to stop me from toppling backward off the dais. “What the hell?”

  Farren is boiling over. He glares at me, his body language promising that the consequences for my actions will be severe indee
d. He seems rattled, though. Unsteady on his own feet. He turns back to face the crowd once more, dabbing at the back of his neck with the sleeve of his robe. A strange look passes over him, and the crowd begin to mutter between themselves.

  Any second now, he’s going to erupt.

  Any second now…

  His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but he remains silent.

  A minute passes, and then another.

  “What’s he doing?” Col hisses.

  Farren turns a ghastly shade of white. “I’m…very pleased you’ve placed your trust in me,” he says, clearing his throat. “I promise you faithfully that I won’t let you down. Thank you.”

  With one final, disgusted glare in my direction, Farren makes his way down from the dais and walks right into the crowd, shaking hands and slapping people on the back as they all cheer him. Darius sighs, shaking his head. He turns to me, and says quietly, under his breath, “That was ill advised, Reza. You weren’t prepared.”

  Col still has his arm around my shoulders. He jostles me, demanding my attention. “What is he talking about? What did you do?”

  I suppose my actions would be obvious enough to Darius. Farren looked like he’d just been slapped around the face with a wet rag when he detected me. His outrage was palpable, and it was all directed at me. There have been very few times that I’ve felt like I’ve let Darius down, but right now the shame that pulses hot at my temples is making me regret my rashness.

  “I tried to hide Jass from Farren.” I bow my head, burning holes into the tops of my dusty, sandblasted boots. “I tried to remove the memory of him from his head, but I couldn’t find it. I was clumsy. It was foolish to—”

  Col’s face has blanched. His hands shake as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, groaning under his breath. “Gods. You can do that stuff too?”

  “Not yet, apparently,” Darius says dryly. “The skill it takes to accomplish such a task is far beyond you at the moment, Reza. You’re a child, trying to sprint before it can even roll onto its stomach. And you might have just ruined any chance we might have had at saving this planet.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  JASS

  STOLEN FRUIT

  I told Reza I’d wake up when I had to and not a moment sooner, but as soon as I sensed she had left Darius’ chambers, I dragged myself back into the realm of the living, kicking and screaming. Returning to my body, allowing myself to feel the ache and the burn, the echo of my cells still calling out for the Light, was brutal. But not unbearable. Opening my eyes was the hardest part. Once I’d achieved that, blinking against the stark storm light hanging from the wall beside my cot until my eyes remembered how to work, it was a relatively simple process. Fingers. Hands. Arms. Neck. Toes. Feet. Legs. Torso. I stretched out every part of me, and then I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

  Sore. Everything hurt. My bones felt like they were cast out of iron, and my head was pounding, but I was awake. It might have been less painful if I’d waited a little longer, but I couldn’t remain there inside my own head, restless in the dark, remembering what it felt like to wrap my arms around her and kiss her.

  It was torturous. Far worse than any physical pain my body could offer me. Not because I didn’t want to kiss her and I resented the fact that it happened. But because she had pulled away. I saw the look in her eyes when she shoved me away from her: anger, disappointment, and fear, all rolled into one.

  This isn’t how I imagined any of this going. I was going to come here, take her, and then find a quiet corner of the galaxy to figure out what to do next.

  Instead I find myself buried thirty feet under ground, trapped and manipulated, forced to wait and to obey, and now…forced to acknowledge my feelings for her. Feelings I never even wanted in the first place. I told Reza the truth. I can’t kill her. It really would be easier for me to end my own life than to end hers, which infuriates me. Compassion is weakness. Affection is weakness. Love is weakness. Addiction is weakness. Thanks to Darius, I don’t feel like I’m going to die without the Construct’s Light anymore, but I’ve replaced that craving with one even stronger. Even more deadly. Reza is a far more potent high than Light could ever be. Light merely kindled a flame inside my body. Reza has the potential to set the fractured, charred remains of my very soul on fire.

  I consider trashing Darius’ quarters and breaking every stick of furniture he owns as punishment for his interference, but then I reject the idea. It would serve no real purpose, and I find I’m thirstier than I have ever been in my life. My clothes are neatly folded on a small, rough-hewn table on the other side of Darius’ room. I remove the loose black shirt and pants I’m wearing that must belong to Darius, and I get changed quickly. I have no idea where in the sub city I am, but I manage to find my way to a canteen, which turns out to be deserted. No one behind the serving hatch. No one taking payment. No one sitting down to eat. I help myself to food and water, and I finish both on my way back to the small room Col set me up in when I first arrived here.

  I pass a handful of people, but the tunnel system has a weird, abandoned quality to it, like the old chapel back on the base.

  This all feels very strange.

  On The Nexus, I walk down hallways and corridors and people quail. They turn and walk the other way in a hurry. When I enter a room, all conversation stops, and all eyes avert to the floor. Here, when I walk through the tunnels, people still stare at me. They do it openly, though, despite the discomfort studying me for too long might cause them, as they marvel at such an oddity as an off-worlder wandering about on his own, without an apparent care in the world. I am a novelty. An intrigue. I am simply different, and that makes me interesting. On The Nexus, I’m the stuff of people’s nightmares made flesh. Here, I am just a man wearing borrowed clothes, eating stolen fruit and drinking stolen water.

  I can feel Reza somewhere on the other side of the sector. She’s getting much better at shielding herself from me, so I can’t really tell what she’s feeling or thinking. I can imagine perfectly well, though. She hates herself. She hates me. She hates the Construct, and she hates the position she finds herself in.

  She’s filled with so much hate sometimes, and yet she claims I am the one consumed by dark emotions.

  In the small bathroom attached to my room, I shower and I shave. I’m beginning to feel much better than I did. I stretch out my body again, testing for weaknesses or any hidden injuries, and when I’ve ascertained that there are none, I drop down to the ground and I complete a set of push-ups. A hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred. A thousand. Sit ups next. I don’t even bother to count. I do them until my stomach burns and I can’t physically lift my body up one more time.

  Hours have passed since I left Darius’ quarters and no one has arrived, out of breath, relieved to find that I haven’t left a trail of bodies in my wake.

  I pace up and down like a caged animal for a further hour, and then I make a decision. Enough is enough. I won’t do this anymore. I will not bow down to these Pirian people and their ridiculous demands. I won’t stay my hand based on the weak threat that Reza will kill herself. I’ve wasted enough time here, and I’ve wasted enough energy letting Reza have her own way.

  I leave my room, and I pull on the tether, using it to gage exactly where Reza is. Due north. Not that far anymore. And I sense confusion in her—a heightened emotional state that wasn’t there before. I don’t think she’s in danger, but she certainly seems distressed. My feet propel me forward before I even know what’s happening. Soon, the tunnels begin to fill up with people, and I find myself being drawn back to the Appointments Hall. I take hold of the nearest seer, ignoring the way he pulls back from me.

  “What’s happening?” I demand.

  “The vote’s about to be announced. The collectors are counting up the ballots.”

  It takes me a moment to realize what he’s talking about. Then I remember: Erika Pakka, dead. Col, nominated for chancellor. I keep for
getting a whole week has passed. It feels like I was just standing here inside the hall with Reza only a couple of hours ago. I’ve been languishing in withdrawal hell, though. Everyone else has been moving on with their lives, preparing for change. If only they knew what will befall them all soon. They wouldn’t be concerning themselves with this kind of crap.

  I release the seer, pushing my way through the crowd. Over my shoulder to my left, I can feel Reza. She’s like the sun, casting her light and heat over me. It’s really the only thing I can feel anymore. When we’re in such close proximity, she fills my head in the most intoxicating way. She doesn’t know how her energy affects me. If she did, she’d be using the knowledge to her advantage, I’m sure. The iron grip I maintain on my own energy is taking more and more effort to maintain. It seems as though I’m slipping through the cracks, and I can’t stop it, no matter how hard I try. I renew my efforts right now, though, strengthening the barriers inside my mind, reinforcing them with everything I’ve got. I don’t want her to know I’m here.

  Once I’m standing in the middle of the crowd, I finally allow myself to look up at the dais. Reza stands in between Col and Darius, talking with the two of them, and my rib cage tightens. Her dark hair is down for once, released from its intricate braids and plaits. Beautiful. Highlights of blonde and caramel catch under the light whenever she turns her head. Her features are fine and delicate. Reza has always felt like a figment of my imagination, a mirror or an echo of feeling that only I can see or hear, so actually seeing her, standing in front of her, being able to reach out and touch her…it doesn’t seem real half the time.

  She scowls, and I wonder what’s troubling her. Col looks murderous, and Darius…Darius just looks perturbed. I soon piece together the awkward tension in the room, though. On the far side of the dais, the chancellor of the third sector stands with two lanky bodyguards, whispering so hard that the flesh of his cheeks is visibly shaking. Farren. I believe his name was Farren. Moments later, a squat, peculiar looking Pirian plants himself at the front of the dais and begins to yell out in a hoarse voice, struggling to make himself heard over the melee of the crowd that surrounds me.