Ghosts & Ashes

by F. T. Lukens

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Ren bit his lip.

  Asher stood. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Ren followed. “Jakob wants me to ask about going home, returning to Erden.”

  Shaking his head, Asher guided Ren down the hallway. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to keep your head down and your mouth shut,” Asher stopped and grabbed Ren’s arm. “I know you’re an idiot duster, but I also know you’re smart enough to understand that any attention from General VanMeerten is bad attention. Pressing to go dirtside after she’s only just allowed you to leave the drift is pushing it.”

  Ren shrugged off the touch. The teasing barb, that had once been a term of affection, carried an edge it didn’t have before.

  “I’m asking.” Ren clenched his jaw. “I have the right to go home. She can’t keep me here.”

  “She can and she will. Or do you want to end up in the prison near Perilous Space? That’s your only other option.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, I’m—” Asher blew out an annoyed breath. He shook his head. “Fine. Don’t listen.” He turned on his heel.

  Ren fumed. They walked the rest of the way to the bridge in silence. Trailing his fingers along the shiny surface of the bulkhead, he found peace in the systems of the ship, the vibrations of the engines, the sparks of the circuits. He could find freedom within these walls, if he let go. He wouldn’t need permission then, to leave, to flee, to go home.

  He banished the thoughts. They were too tempting.

  At the steps to the bridge, Ren remembered in time to duck his head as he entered. Rowan, the captain and Asher’s sister, greeted them with a tight smile. Millicent was already there. She was a fellow star host, a guest aboard the ship, also subjected to the scrutiny of the Corps.

  Ren took his position. He stood in front of the vid screen with his head bowed and his gaze focused on the floor. Rowan stood to his right with her long blond hair in a braid and her pulse gun strapped to her side. Asher moved to Ren’s left and caged Ren between them—trapped.

  His pulse ticked up; his heart beat was a steady drumming in his ears.

  The vid screen flickered to life and General VanMeerten appeared. She wore her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun and turned her head to show the scar that ran from her earlobe to the point of her chin. She looked down her nose at the group and peered at Ren as though he was mud on the bottom of her boot. Though she sat in a chair, her image loomed above them, and the artificial light from her office glinted along the row of medals on her chest.

  Ren shrank in her presence. She didn’t scare him, but she had the power to put him in a cell on the edge of Perilous Space and throw away the key. Even Asher’s mother, an official of the Drift Alliance, couldn’t protect him—not if VanMeerten deemed him a threat. He hated her, hated everything she stood for, and bitterness burned in Ren’s gut.

  “You look ill,” she said without preamble.

  Rowan shifted slightly, closer to Ren’s side. “He’s been under the weather recently,” she lied easily. “Space sick. An inner ear imbalance. That happens to dusters.”

  “I’m aware. You forget I’m dirt-born, myself.”

  “Then you know how artificial gravity can affect the delicate equilibrium of the human body, especially when you’re not used to it.”

  Her black eyes glittered. “Are you lecturing me, Ms. Morgan?”

  “Captain,” Rowan corrected. “And I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good.” VanMeerten looked at Millicent. “And you?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, suitably meek.

  “Not ill, like this one?”

  Ren bristled, but bit his tongue.

  “No, ma’am. But I’ve been eating and sleeping well.”

  She’d picked the absolute wrong thing to say.

  VanMeerten’s gaze darted to Ren. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed him. “You’re not sleeping?”

  Ren opened his mouth, but Asher cut him off. “He’s not sleeping well. We’re working on it. Stress, you know, from the ordeal.”

  She curled her lip. “It is my understanding one of the first signs of decompensation is the loss of the ability to sleep.”

  “But isn’t oversleeping also a symptom?” Rowan said sweetly.

  VanMeerten huffed. “And are you eating? I can’t tell. You were scrawny when I met you and you still are.”

  Ren curled his hands into fists. His body shook.

  “You can’t expect a person who is space sick to be able to eat regular meals. As my brother said, we’re working on it.”

  “I shouldn’t have allowed this trip along the space route. He’s a danger when healthy, and even more so if he’s deteriorating.”

  Ren’s heart sank. He bowed his head, bit his lip, and kept his posture bent and humble. He was penitent in image while his body thrummed. The same flood of warmth and energy filled him as when his star engaged in his chest, and he closed his eyes. He didn’t want her to see the blue burning in his irises.

  “Allow?” Rowan challenged. “Allow? May I remind you that I am the captain of this ship and I choose where my crew goes. We were grounded on Mykonos for ten weeks. Ten! While your bureaucracy deliberated over details before finally releasing us for this run.”

  VanMeerten narrowed her eyes. “No one hindered your departure except yourself. You could’ve left the star hosts and your brother behind.”

  “Not on your life.” Rowan crossed her arms. “I lost my brother once. Never again. And if you think—”

  “I want to be alerted at the first moment of any trouble regarding that one’s sleeping patterns,” she said, cutting Rowan off mid-word and addressing Asher. “No excuses. I’ll not risk the lives of the people of the Drift Alliance because a star host can’t get a good night’s rest. Drug him if you have to.”

  Ren flinched, and his star swirled in his middle. Anger pricked up the length of his spine and settled in the tense line of his shoulders.

  “Yes, we’ll do what we can,” Asher assured.

  “Good. Anything else to report?” Her gaze flicked over the group, and they remained silent, though Rowan tugged on her braid and Millicent scratched at a spot on her skin. “Fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. Until then.”

  The vid screen powered down.

  Ren opened his eyes and stood in silence. He realized he hadn’t asked Jakob’s question, and guilt churned in his gut, mixed with the humiliation and the fear, and it was all too overwhelming. He turned and left the bridge.

  Asher was a step behind and followed him until Ren stood in front of his own door.

  “What do you want?” he asked. His cheeks were hot with embarrass­ment and he was tired, so tired. Exhaustion settled over him like a fog, dulling his senses, removing the barrier between him and the ship. His equilibrium unbalanced, he staggered and leaned against the wall. He wanted to lie in his bed, merge with the ship, and leave his mortal self behind for a while, to find the freedom that he missed within the circuits and wires and systems of the Star Stream.

  “I want to talk with you.”

  “Haven’t we talked enough?”

  Asher sighed. He took Ren’s hand and squeezed his fingers. “Ren, we haven’t said anything significant to each other in weeks.” He furrowed his brow and stared at their hands. “I understand you’re upset. Things have been different. I have a job to do and… it’s harder for us to be friends. I understand that, but I promised to protect you. And I’m doing it the only way I know how.”

  “I don’t want your protection. I don’t need your protection. I want you to be my friend, my…” Ren trailed off.

  “I know you’re not happy.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Then tell me.” Asher mov
ed closer. His body was a pillar of strength Ren had to resist falling into. “You didn’t have a problem telling me off when we were trapped in a dungeon together. You didn’t have a problem with making me listen to you on the Nomad and on Mykonos. What’s the problem now?”

  Ren’s tongue was heavy. “If I tell you, can you promise me you won’t report it back to the Phoenix Corps? That it will stay between us?”

  Asher exhaled. “Ren.” He paused. Then he nodded. “Yeah, it’ll stay between us. This time.” His voice was thick, almost uncertain. “I promise.”

  Ren swayed closer, rested his forehead on Asher’s shoulder. “I know you keep your promises.”

  Asher cupped the back of Ren’s neck. “I do.”

  “I needed to hear that.”

  “Come on, you can barely stand.”

  Ren allowed Asher to tug him into the room and push him to the bed. Ren stretched out on the sheets. He kicked off his boots. Asher lay next to him. Their shoulders touched, and that reminded Ren of the times in the dungeon on Erden, when they slept next to the lattice between their cells. It reminded Ren of the tense trip on the Nomad when they didn’t know if Rowan would pay the credits they owed or if they were going to be turned in when they arrived at the Nineveh Drift. But then Asher had been Ren’s rock, his anchor, his foundation.

  The past few weeks without him had been torture, but for the moment, Ren was grounded. He held no illusions that the awkward­ness wouldn’t return, but now it was only them, as it had been in the dark nights in the cell when they’d trade secrets.

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know if I can stop it. It’s harder now since I… since… the incident on the bridge when I couldn’t let go.”

  Asher stiffened. He was obviously thinking about when Ren had been stuck inside the Star Stream, when Ren’s humanity had burned away and the cold logic of the machines had taken over. Ren had gone beyond where anyone could reach him, and it was only Asher’s quick thinking that had stopped him from killing dozens of people.

  “When the power overtook you. Is that what happens at night?”

  “I dream,” Ren said, softly. “I dream of Erden. I dream of people I knew. The dreams are so vivid, so terrible, and I can’t stop, even if I try.”

  “They trigger your power. Like before, when you were upset or threatened, like the panic this morning. Your power activated.”

  “Yes,” Ren said.

  “And the ship responds. You couldn’t breathe, so life support kicked off.”

  Ren swallowed. “Yes.”

  “The dreams are getting worse, aren’t they?”

  Ren focused on the heat of Asher’s body along the line of his side, the touch of Asher’s pinky finger against his, the cradle of the mattress against his body. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut and didn’t answer.

  “Because you’re not dead exhausted at night now? Or is it something else?”

  Ren shrugged. The drowsy lull of sleep slipped over him.

  “It’s because we’re not as close, isn’t it? You don’t know if you can trust me because of my position with the Corps. Because you feel trapped by the people you thought would save you. Because you don’t believe I’m on your side any longer.”

  No one could say Asher wasn’t perceptive. He was. It was what made him such a good soldier and a good friend. But Ren didn’t want to talk about any of it. He was blunted, right then, with the blurred edges of slumber overtaking him.

  “Remember, right after, when we stayed in that hotel.” Asher shifted slightly on the bunk mattress. “And I took you to that garden? We walked around the paths and held hands.”

  “You kissed me next to the carnivorous shrub.”

  Asher chuckled. “You liked it.”

  “I did.” Ren smiled.

  “We got sprayed by the sprinklers. My shirt was soaked.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I liked the smell of the wet dirt and mulch. Your nose was scrunched the whole time.”

  “It reminded me of…” Asher trailed off.

  Ren heard the words anyway. It reminded Asher of Erden, of his cell, of his captivity.

  “It reminded me of home.” Ren said. His smile faded.

  “I miss us,” Asher said softly.

  The words were an arrow in Ren’s gut. “Ash,” Ren said. “I’m tired.”

  Asher patted his hand. “I know. Go to sleep, Ren.”

  A shiver of fear slipped up Ren’s spine, and he gripped Asher’s hand, laced their fingers. “Please stay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Rest, Ren. I’ll be here to keep you safe.”

  Ren believed him, and, unafraid, eased into a doze.

  2

  When Ren woke, the entire day had passed. Asher was gone, but a note sat tented by Ren’s head.

  I’m sorry, I couldn’t stay. I was needed elsewhere. I’ll see you at the next check-in.

  - A

  Ren crumpled the paper. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed his body erect and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. He washed his face; the cold water shocked him into wakefulness.

  Needing to see something different from the four walls, he slipped on his boots and left his room. Because their relationship was broken, Asher was no longer his anchor, and Ren relied on the others.

  He heard voices in the common room and stepped through the doorway. The conversation stopped dead. He waved his hand at the occupants, Jakob and Penelope, before shuffling to the counter to pour a cup of day-old coffee.

  “Hey, Ren,” Jakob said, standing up from the sagging couch and crossing the room. He clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “It’s been an exciting day.”

  Ren twisted his lips as he added sweetener to the steaming liquid and stirred it with a spoon. He preferred tea, but found the caffeine from the coffee helpful. Asher had shown him how to make coffee less bitter, which now seemed ironic.

  “Is that your way of tactfully getting me to talk about this morning? Because you failed.”

  Jakob scoffed. “I’ve been practicing my tact. Haven’t I, Pen?”

  Penelope smiled, but the action did not reach her brown eyes. She brushed a long lock of curly dark hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Sorry, Jakob. I’m going to have to agree with Ren on this one.”

  “Weeds,” Jakob said, giving Ren a shake. “I have to work harder then.”

  “Probably,” Ren said, moving out from under Jakob’s touch to sit at the table. He hunched over his drink and sipped it. It burned his tongue. Ren took comfort from the sting.

  “Well, now that the ice is broken… do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  Ren pretended he didn’t notice the concerned glance Jakob and Penelope shared.

  “Are you sure?” Penelope said. “Talking may help?”

  Irritation crawled through Ren’s middle. He knew they were only trying to support him. They were his friends and undoubtedly they were scared because Ren had almost killed everyone that morning through oxygen deprivation and hypothermia and because of the other times Ren had accessed systems in the throes of a nightmare. But Penelope’s tone rubbed him the wrong way, like sandpaper against his nerves.

  “The picture helped,” Ren said, recognizing that he had to give them something.

  Jakob smiled as he sat down across from Ren. “It did?”

  “Yeah, it reminded me I was on the ship.”

  After the first time, when Ren had dreamed he was locked in the cell on Erden with Abiathar’s voice in his head and his sleeping, unconscious self had tried to open all the doors on the Star Stream including the airlocks, Jakob had drawn him the picture. Ren had laughed at the misshapen spaceship speeding along a map of stars leaving a rainbow trail in its wake. Stick-figure
representations of the crew members dotted all sides of the border. Asher had a silver shoulder and a scribble of blond hair and a ridiculous frown. There had been several incidents after that.

  No one was laughing anymore.

  “That’s great!” Pen said, sitting up straighter. “Would you like me to draw you one as well? Oh, I know, Lucas is a great artist. You’ve seen the maps. He could do it. Would that help?”

  They both regarded Ren so seriously, so earnestly, that Ren couldn’t be angry. “Sure,” he said.

  Penelope’s smile went from forced to relieved. “I’ll ask him. Maybe one of his maps would help? It could remind you we’re in space?”

  “And that it would be a bad idea to try to open the doors,” Jakob added. “Because of the terrifying vacuum that is right outside and the fact we would all die.”

  “Noted,” Ren said, dryly.

  Jakob ruffled Ren’s hair, and Ren scowled as he tried to pat it back down.

  “Please, stop.”

  “What? It can’t look any worse,” Jakob said with a grin.

  Ren rolled his eyes. He gulped down his coffee, unable to stand the forced levity of Jakob and Pen’s combined presence. They tried too hard. Penelope wore her notoriously soft heart on her sleeve, and Jakob was acting like the boy he’d been in their home village on Erden. Jakob had always been haughty, brash, and impulsive, but likeable, and he’d inspired the admiration of the other youths. He had never teased Ren, because Ren wasn’t worth the effort; he wasn’t even on Jakob’s periphery.

  Jakob was far from that boy now: His exterior was hardened, his shoulders were weary, his mind had become calculating, his point of view had been widened by what he had experienced. But he pretended for Ren’s sake.