Fractured Era: Legacy Code Bundle (Books 1-3) (Fractured Era Series)

by Kalquist, Autumn

  Zephyr’s eyes fluttered open, and she rolled off the metal bunk onto unforgiving tile.

  “I don’t know, sir. Lieutenant Raines brought her in here. For questioning, sir. I’m supposed to call him as soon as she wakes from sedation… which should be soon.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” the deep voice said. “I’m comming medlevel. You’re to release her back to their care immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zephyr blinked against the bright lights and groaned at the pain shooting through her back. This wasn’t her bunk, and she wasn’t on the London anymore. Her father wasn’t coming for her, but that realization didn’t bring relief. She was still trapped.

  She looked through the bars and saw Chief Petroff exiting the brig. “You get that medic out of here, Holt.”

  “Yes, sir. I will.”

  Zephyr peeled her palms from the tile. Her hands were covered in dried blood and small cuts. Even her forearms were spattered with sticky red-brown. Zephyr’s chest lightened. Most of it was Paige’s blood. This punishment was well-worth the crime. But she was done with Tadeo. Kakface. She was done with this ship and these people. As soon as she got out of there, she’d demand the president release her back to the London.

  She flexed one hand, and bits of blood flaked off and drifted lazily to the floor.

  Holt, the guard, approached the cell beside hers. The old woman lying in it had been sleeping since Zephyr arrived. She was one of Tadeo’s other prisoners. What could this ancient woman possibly have done wrong?

  “Medic Faust,” Holt said.

  Medic Faust. That name sounded familiar. Why?

  “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” came the creaking reply. The woman was wearing the white, loose suit of a medlevel patient, not the light blue suit a medic ought to be wearing. Maybe she was sick.

  “You should get up now. You’re going back to hospice.”

  Not just sick, then. Dying. Wow, Tadeo really was screwed up. Why had he imprisoned an old, dying woman?

  The gray-haired medic struggled to sit up on her bunk. “I’m aware. I do have ears, you know. Shall I collect my things?” She gestured around her cell, eyes wide, as if to point out just how empty it was.

  Holt gave her an awkward nod before shuffling back to his place behind the counter.

  Idiot. So many people on this ship were idiots. Medic Faust threw Zephyr an annoyed look, like she’d heard Zephyr’s unspoken thought and agreed. Then she lay back down.

  Medic Faust.

  Era had said that name. After Dritan had left for Soren, Era had told her she needed to schedule her follow-up appointment with a Medic Faust.

  The woman was from population management. This medic was the reason Era killed herself.

  Zephyr jumped up from the floor and went to the bars separating the medic’s cell from her own. The medic’s bunk was within arm’s reach, and Zephyr pulled on her suit through the bars.

  “Medic Faust.” Zephyr’s voice came out rough. “Did you have a patient named Era Corinth?”

  The medic’s eyes opened. They were gray, the color of newly forged panels. She sat up and inched away from Zephyr. “I’m Nora. I’m no longer a medic.”

  “Were you Era’s medic?” Zephyr repeated, her pulse buzzing in her ears.

  Nora licked her lips and looked down at her hands. Her old skin was thin, and her veins protruded through. “I did provide care for that girl,” she said quietly. Then she waved a hand, as if dismissing the thought of Era. “Just not well enough.”

  Zephyr’s heart beat faster, and hate for the woman flooded her. “You know, she died because of you. She killed herself.”

  Nora met her gaze. “I know. But I didn’t kill her.”

  “But it was your fault.”

  “I don’t make the rules.”

  Zephyr fought to keep her breathing even and darted a glance at Holt. He was staring at them.

  “You, two,” Holt said. “You can’t be talking in there.”

  Zephyr crouched down so her face was even with the medic’s. “Did she ever say anything to you? Did she give you even the slightest hint she might want to kill herself because you were going to terminate her pregnancy?”

  The medic’s expression didn’t change, and that made Zephyr want to throw the medic’s failure in her face, make her ears ring with it until she died. “It’s your job as a medic to prevent suicides—you should have kept her on medlevel—made sure she started the grimp.”

  Nora blinked slowly and nodded. She scooted an inch further away. After a long pause, she responded, her steely gaze meeting Zephyr’s square on. “There are things in this fleet people would kill for. And things that people would die for.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Nora laughed, and Zephyr’s rage flared. She pushed her hand through the bars, trying to snatch at the medic’s short gray hair, to rip it out until she felt the pain Zephyr felt.

  The medic moved further away, avoiding Zephyr’s grasp.

  “Did Era say something to you?”

  The medic gave a stiff nod but didn’t respond.

  “Tell me what she said.”

  “Does it matter?” Nora asked. “Your friend is gone.”

  “Did she—did you know she’d try to kill herself?”

  The old woman stared out across the small cell, then swung her legs to the floor, wincing against the apparent pain the movement caused. “My biggest mistake has been knowing too much and doing too little. But here I am, still alive after all these years. And your friend… she’s dead. Let that be a lesson to you.”

  “What…” Zephyr said, her voice rising, “did she say to you?” All of Zephyr’s senses were on fire, and her skin felt as if a thousand-volt charge ran through it. She got to her feet and pressed herself closer to the bars.

  There are things in this fleet people would kill for. And things that people would die for. What the medic was saying was important. Zephyr didn’t know how she knew it—but she knew. And she desperately wanted to know what Era had said. Had she hinted to the medic that she’d planned to take her own life, even before they’d gotten news of Dritan’s death?

  “Tell me what you’re talking about!”

  The medic blinked like she’d forgotten Zephyr was there. “I won’t.”

  “Kerrigan. Uh-Exec Kerrigan,” Holt said, standing up. “Get back to your bunk.”

  Zephyr stared him down, and his pale, freckled skin reddened.

  The door to the brig slid open, and two blue-suited medics carrying a stretcher entered.

  Panic surged through Zephyr, making her sick, and she banged on the bars. This woman knew something about Era’s last days. Something Zephyr didn’t. Tears pricked her eyes. “Please. Just tell me what Era said. I need to know.”

  Nora pursed her lips. “She said nothing to me. Nothing at all.”

  The medics spoke with Holt, and he came over to Nora’s cell, keys jangling.

  “What is wrong with you?” Zephyr asked, yelling again.

  “You’re right.” Nora said, just as loudly. She nodded and stared at Holt as he unlocked her cell. “This does need to end. But I’ll be dead in a few weeks or months. And it will all end with me.”

  Zephyr stepped away from the bars as the medics entered the cell and began to help Nora onto the stretcher. Era probably hadn’t said anything. The old woman sounded crazy—out of it from power core sickness or her meds.

  The medics carried her off in a stretcher, and when they were gone, Zephyr dragged herself back to her bunk. She slid to the floor in front of it and rubbed her hands together to get the dried blood off.

  Nothing made sense. She tried to stay calm and focused on taking even breaths, but something tugged at her, preventing her from numbing her chaotic emotions again.

  Her father always said that if you let your emotions get in the way, you’d never survive life in the fleet. He said feelings were the reason accidents happened, the reason the deka riots and s
hortages happened. That when people felt too freely, they became a burden to the fleet.

  But he was wrong. Sometimes emotions told you things your mind couldn’t. And her mind was telling her not to numb herself, that her emotions had something important to say. So she let them wash over her, and she sat with the burning pain and let it take her.

  And for the first time since yesterday, since the awful moment Tadeo said Era killed herself, Zephyr’s mind cleared, even while her heart ached. Each moment in the past three days crystallized in her mind—sharply outlining the shape of all that had come before.

  Everyone was wrong about Era’s death. It made perfect sense for her to kill herself, but Zephyr knew Era, and she wouldn’t just do that.

  Had Medic Faust been delirious from the meds?

  There are things in this fleet people would kill for… and die for.

  Zephyr remembered the night Era died—each moment as it had played out, despite how fresh the pain was.

  After they got the news that Dritan had died in the cave-in, Era had been hysterical. But she’d been trying to speak through her sobs. Her pain had broken Zephyr—she’d wanted to make it go away—so she’d forced Era to swallow the grimp.

  What had Era been trying so hard to tell her?

  Zephyr closed her eyes. Era had said something about the defect… that it was a lie. She’d said something about treason, too. Maybe she’d been talking about the hull breach, about the traitor who’d tried to kill Tesmee. Zephyr had assumed Era was losing it, saying nonsensical things.

  Then the grimp took hold, and Era had fallen asleep before explaining what she meant.

  Something wasn’t right about any of this. But what? What had really happened that night? When had Era awoken and decided to take her own life?

  Zephyr gasped and sat up straight, clenching her sticky hands into tight fists.

  Era had said something else between her sobs. “I recorded the truth. Hid it.”

  “She tried to tell me,” Zephyr whispered. “But I wouldn’t listen.”

  Zephyr covered her mouth, inhaling the coppery-salt-scent of dried blood, and leaned back against the bench. The hard edge of it cut into her scalp, and her eyes watered. What truth had Era hidden? It seemed absurd—Era had shared everything with Zephyr, hadn’t she?

  She said she’d recorded something and hidden it. Was she hysterical, or did a recording really exist somewhere? And could it hold the answer to why she’d committed suicide?

  Zephyr wiped the tears from her eyes and leaned forward, staring through the bars of her prison.

  If Era had hidden a last message somewhere, Zephyr was going to find it.

  By the time Tadeo reached stairwell C, guards were already pouring out, filling up the corridor. He caught sight of Omar and Kiva in the press, as the squads lined up on both sides of the corridor, hands on their weapons.

  Nicolas Gonzalez, Jonathan Lau, Farida Mittal, and the families came out next. They had metal cases with them, and their faces were drawn with fear. Tomas came with his wife and daughter next, a scowl on his face, and Nassef and his family followed.

  The president was the last to exit, flanking Tesmee on one side with the chief on the other.

  Tadeo edged around the board to get to the chief and president.

  “Chief!”

  Chief’s brow furrowed, and he paused in the orders he was giving to the squad.

  “Say it quick. What is it?”

  “I found something in the data,” Tadeo said, keeping his voice low.

  “What did you find?”

  “I think the bomb might be in the power core.”

  Nyssa gasped and pulled Tesmee closer.

  Chief’s nostrils flared. “Why do you think that?”

  “Tatiana Carizo spent a lot of time in a cubic close to the power core. And the morning after the hull breach—she left work to go there. I don’t know if she met someone, but—”

  “That doesn’t mean the bomb’s in the power core,” Chief said, irritated. “It’s impossible to get anywhere near it without access. The terrorists had none.”

  “But what if they did? What if they have someone working with them—on the inside?”

  Nyssa stepped closer. “No, everyone’s clean. There are strict regulations about who works down there.”

  “I need to look into it,” Tadeo said. “Tatiana worked the power core on the Meso before she transferred here. She knew all the safeguards, all the protocols, all about the regulations. Maybe someone in the power core helped the terrorists. I don’t know, but if you wanted to take out a ship, wouldn’t that be the best place to put a bomb?”

  Nyssa shook her head and squeezed Tesmee’s arm. “The terrorists would have died with us.”

  “What if this was their plan if the hull breach failed?”

  The chief shook his head and cast a glance at the board members, who were trying to listen in. “We need to get them out of here.”

  Blood rushed in Tadeo’s head. “Just let me take a few men down there to question the power core workers.”

  Chief nodded and glanced down the corridor, clearly eager to move. “Take them. I need to get these people to safety. If you find anything, comm me.”

  Tadeo grabbed Kiva, Omar, and two others and led them back into the stairwell.

  “What’s going on, sir?” Kiva asked.

  “We think the bomb might be in the power core.”

  Kiva gasped and went pale. The others, including Omar, looked stricken, sick.

  “I think someone in the power core could’ve been working with one of the terrorists,” Tadeo said, rushing to get the words out. “Be on the lookout for suspicious behavior while we’re questioning the workers.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison. All of them wiped the fear from their faces and stood taller.

  “Let’s go.”

  ∞ ∞

  Tadeo raced through the corridors of P2, his veins pulsing with fresh adrenaline, his guards at his back.

  The hum of the power core grew as they neared it, and Tadeo fought back memories of Era—and the airlock. They were heading toward it, but when they reached the final corridor, they turned left, away from it, and Tadeo felt the pressure in his chest ease up. All that mattered right now was finding the explosives. He hoped he was wrong about all of this—that Tatiana’d had some other reason for coming down here.

  Another few minutes brought them to the main power core entrance. Tadeo didn’t have access here. The chief did. So did the board members and a few trusted sublevel workers. Could one of them be a terrorist?

  Tadeo scanned his shift card at the cubic adjacent to the massive doors. The cubic door opened, revealing two men and a woman sitting at a table. The woman jumped up, holding a tray, and tried to conceal it behind her back. It was food brought down illegally from the galley.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Tadeo shouted to compete with the hum of the power core.

  The oldest man stood up and came to the door. Light scars crisscrossed his face, and his shaved head made him look older than he probably was. “I am,” he said.

  “And you are?”

  “Sorry, sir. I’m Gavin Lanar.”

  “Lanar, I have some questions for you. Clear the room.”

  Lanar gestured to the other two, and the woman sheepishly dropped the tray back onto the table and exited the cubic with the man.

  Tadeo pulled Omar and Kiva aside. “Watch them. See how those two act. Don’t let them go anywhere.”

  Then he went into the cubic and shut the door behind him. “Sit down, Lanar.”

  “What is this about, sir? I already reported in and said there won’t be another power outage—I got more guys coming down to help fix the generator tonight. We finally got the parts…” He trailed off at whatever look was on Tadeo’s face.

  “Terrorists may have planted explosives somewhere in or around the power core,” Tadeo said.

  Lanar’s jaw dropped, and Tadeo studied him. He seemed to be
genuinely shocked. “That’s impossible. We’re the only ones with access. But even if there were explosives, it would take a lot to blow through that hull. A lot.”

  “A lot like a combination of Artex and Zenith?”

  Lanar’s face went ashen. “Yes.”

  Tadeo leaned over the table, getting close to Lanar’s face. “One of the terrorists smuggled Artex and Zenith onto this ship. If someone wanted to blow up the power core, where would they place the explosives?”

  Lanar swallowed and shook his head. “The plasma field is encapsulated. You can’t just blow it up, or even get near it. You’d have to place a charge right up against it, and the only things touching that hull are…”

  “Are what?”

  “The power cell inserts.”

  A thrill ran through Tadeo, and he began to pace the small cubic. The inserts again. It meant something.

  “What are they used for?”

  Lanar blinked and rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “They cover the outside hull. Our generators use them to draw power from the core.”

  “How many inserts are there?”

  “Over eight thousand. One hundred cells per generator.”

  Eight thousand. It’d take days or weeks to check them all. “Could someone place explosives inside the insert?”

  “Maybe, but… It gets nearly hot enough in there to melt the insert itself.”

  Heat activated Zenith. Tadeo grunted, frustrated. If the power cell inserts got that hot, there couldn’t be explosives hidden there. The Zenith would have activated shortly after it was put in place, and it would have exploded already.

  The power outages. Tadeo sucked in a breath and pounded his fist against the table, rattling the half-empty tray. “What’s been causing the outages?”

  Lanar’s brow creased. “One of our generators is down. Every time the ship hits a certain power threshold, it causes a black-out, and we have to reboot everything.”

  “You said the generators draw power from the core through the inserts.”

  “Right.”

  “So the section with the bad generator is dead then?”

  “Yes.”

  “If it’s dead… how hot do the inserts get?”

  Lanar’s mouth dropped, and his eyes widened. “It’s cold. The inserts in that section aren’t functioning. They won’t conduct power till that generator gets fixed.”