by F. T. Lukens
Millicent set her napkin on the table. “I’m finished. Thank you.” She stood and lightly stepped into the corridor.
Once her footsteps retreated, Lucas sighed. “She has gotten so much weirder. Ever since we landed at Erden.”
“She needs a break from the ship,” Ren said. “I’ve been thinking about it. When I disconnected and was planetside, I could think clearer. The same may work for her. If we can get her on Crei, she may be able to… reset.”
“Is that what you did?” Penelope asked. “I mean, you seem more… yourself.”
Ren flexed his hands, feeling the smooth wood of the table beneath his fingertips. He focused on his lungs expanding and contracting, the hum of the air recyclers, the scrape of Ollie’s fork on his plate, and the scent of the garlic in the bread. And in the far off recesses of his mind existed the pulse of the electricity, the whir of systems, the living mechanisms of the ship.
“I am myself,” Ren said. “I was always myself, just a little off balance.”
“Okay,” Penelope said, always tactful. “And you think having Millicent go planetside will help her balance?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Lucas muttered. Penelope elbowed him in the side. “What? Oh come on! You all left me with her, and she went a little loopy. It was strange, and I am not equipped to deal with weird girls. I’m the pilot. I’m awkward. I wear goggles. I even tried the paradoxes, and they didn’t work.”
Ollie snorted. “You? Awkward? Never would have guessed.”
“Oh, shut up. Your sister married me.”
“That’s enough,” Rowan said. Her tone was sharp, but her smile belied any real annoyance. “Honestly. Children. All of you.”
“So we’re really going? To Crei?”
“Yes.” Rowan folded her hands in front of her, back straight. “We’re going. But we have a slight problem.”
“Another one? More problems than a star host who is acting strangely? And another one who is wanted by the Phoenix Corps?”
“I’m wanted?”
Lucas leveled Ren with a disbelieving look. “Um… yeah. You could say that.”
“That’s the problem,” Rowan said. “We have on board two star hosts and an AWOL Corpsman. The Corps hasn’t bothered them or us since we’ve docked, but I doubt they’ll let us leave.”
“Why haven’t they approached us? What are they playing at?” Lucas asked.
Rowan shook her head. “They’re waiting us out. They’re waiting for us to crack under the pressure and make a move.”
“And going to Crei is our move,” Ollie said, confident.
Rowan sighed. “We’re going to have to talk with VanMeerten.”
“No.” Ren’s protest was immediate and raw. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No. “Beatrice.”
“I know, Ren. I know, but they’re not going to let us gallivant off to another planet. Not after last time. We’ll have to negotiate.”
“Then leave me out of it.”
“Okay,” Rowan said with a sympathetic look. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
Lucas leaned over to Penelope. “Who is Beatrice?”
Penelope shrugged.
Ren couldn’t take it. Sorrow and guilt rose in his gullet and overwhelmed him; he pushed his plate away. He stood, and as Asher and Millicent had before him, he walked out.
* * *
A few hours later, there was a knock on his door. Ren sighed. He pulled out of the Star Stream’s systems, where he’d been fine-tuning them since he had been gone for a while and wanted them in perfect shape for the trip to Crei, and settled into his body.
It wasn’t Millicent, because the person knocked.
“Come in,” Ren said, disengaging the lock from his bunk.
Rowan walked in. She stopped at the threshold, hovering in the doorway. She wrinkled her nose at the state of the room, and Ren flushed.
“Yes?” he croaked.
“We’re leaving for Crei as soon as Lucas puts in the coordinates.”
Ren frowned. “The Corps is letting us leave?”
“Yes,” she said.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Ren’s throat went tight. “Asher.”
“Yes.”
Ren imagined scenarios where Asher was imprisoned or disciplined. Bread and water and stew flashed in his mind’s eye, and he ached thinking of Asher in a cell again.
“How?”
“You’ll have to ask him, but he’s not in the best mood. I’d wait until later. It’s a bit of a trip. You’ll have time.”
“He’s on the ship?”
“Yes.” Rowan’s green eyes flashed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for there.”
Rowan had two weaknesses—money and Asher. And Ren stared right at a crack in her brash and confident demeanor due to the latter.
“He didn’t need to. I could’ve… I could’ve given myself up. I could’ve disabled the drift and the dock and anyone else for us to leave. I could’ve done something. He didn’t need to.”
“He did,” she said simply.
Ren swallowed. “Okay.”
“If anything happens to him because of this, because of you, I want you gone. Understand? I want you and Millicent out of my sight. I’ve done everything I can for you. I’ve risked this crew and my ship. I won’t risk Asher. Not again. I allowed it before because he cares for you, but since he’s met you, he hasn’t made the greatest choices. And I won’t allow him to die for you or for anyone.”
Ren’s heart stuttered. His stomach knotted. Obviously Rowan didn’t adhere to Ollie’s sense of chosen family as staunchly as he did.
“Okay,” he said again.
“Good. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He licked his dry lips. “Thank you. For everything.”
Her expression softened. “I care for you too, Ren. But you have to know that this life isn’t easy, and I have a responsibility to Pen and Lucas and Ollie.”
“I admire you.”
“Don’t.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not worthy of a pedestal. Don’t put me on one.”
Ren didn’t agree, but he wasn’t going to argue. “I’ll make sure the ship is ready for us to depart.”
“Okay.”
She looked at Ren’s ceiling and saw the picture taped there and the stick figure with a yellow braid and a pulse gun strapped to its side. “I miss that cog,” she said softly, smiling, eyes shining. “He would’ve made an excellent drifter, if he could’ve shaken the dust off.”
She talked as if Jakob had died, and, in a way, he had. Rowan would never see him again. There would be no reason for their paths to cross.
“He might still.”
She didn’t respond, merely nodded, before turning on her heel and leaving Ren’s room. She shut the door behind her, and Ren engaged the lock again.
Flopping back to the mattress, Ren tossed his arm over his eyes and fled into the ship. At least there, things made sense, were in a predictable order, worked in a way Ren understood.
He couldn’t say the same for humanity.
* * * * *
The route to Crei was long and uneventful. Lucas piloted. Penelope prepared. Ollie engaged Ren in a few social activities, and they worked together on the box of broken tech. It occupied Ren, and he enjoyed the comforting presence and silence around Ollie.
Ren avoided Millicent. Her behavior unnerved him. He hoped going planetside would wrest control of her body away from her star, and she would be more human. Her eyes constantly glowed now, faintly, and she moved around the ship like a ghost. Ren didn’t know what Rowan said to her, but she didn’t protest their destination again. Ren silently feared she would take action against the ship and kept a vigilant watch on the systems, but he detected nothing.
Ren shuddered to
think that a few weeks ago, he was in a similar state. He was more grounded now. He tried to keep his excursions into the ship minimal, only going in when he needed to fix a component or needed a break from thinking too much.
Asher and he didn’t talk. They passed by each other in the hallways, and the one time Ren attempted to speak to him, Asher shook his head.
“Ash, please.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? I’m sorry, okay? For what I said. For what I’ve done. For everything. Please.”
“Ren, I can’t. Don’t.”
And then he walked away, in strides on the verge of a full-out run, before disappearing around a corner.
Ren didn’t try again.
* * * * *
The landing on Crei went as well as could be expected. Lucas did what he could, but the atmosphere and the pull of the gravity made the ship shudder and shake. The vid screen clouded with fog, which worried Ren. But Lucas was an expert, and he relied on the instruments and his skill to pilot them to the station. Ren gritted his teeth and did what he could with his power to aid the descent.
They docked at the station, a tower which rose from the landscape, stark against the orange sky. The slip was an open platform buttressed by huge metal girders, with a shed-like roof to protect them from the elements. Unlike the drifts and the port on Erden, it wasn’t enclosed.
Lucas slid expertly into the tiny spot between another merchant-class ship and a smaller planet-bound transport. The group waited in the cargo bay for pressurization, and, once they had the signal, Ollie opened the bay doors.
He covered his mouth, and coughed, pinching his nose as he stepped out. They followed. Ren took a breath and immediately regretted it. He gagged and choked and slapped both hands over his mouth and nose. “What the stars?” Ren coughed around the words.
Penelope used the collar of her shirt to cover her face. “It’s like when Lucas eats onions.”
“Oh, my stars, I’m going to die. I’m getting back on the ship.” Lucas pulled his goggles down over his nose. “Or I’m going to throw up.”
Rowan shot him a clearly annoyed look, but waved him back. Penelope went with him, not waiting for permission, and, once they disappeared into the ship, the doors to the Star Stream closed tight. Ren’s chest pricked when the on-board air recyclers kicked on high.
Millicent stepped daintily along the platform and walked across to the center tower. She hit the button for the lift and waited; she tapped her foot, and the hem of her dress caught on the laces of her boots. “Home,” she said simply.
Crei was not green, as Ren learned. Crei was covered in metal, concrete, and factories that spit smoke in the air. Black tendrils curled through the atmosphere and blotted out the orange and pink sky. The world smelled like ash, and the air tasted like metal; the bite of it was sharp on Ren’s tongue.
Ren followed on Millicent’s heels, as did the others, and slipped through the doors of the lift. The lift sat in a cylinder in the middle of the landing tower. It descended quickly, and Ren grabbed onto the wall and pushed his star into the mechanisms to slow it down.
Millicent shot him a look, but with half of their group turning green from the smell, a quick drop would probably end in vomit. The lift went down and down and down, and with the descent the temperature dropped.
Ren had learned his lesson on Erden and wore a thick jacket, but he tugged it closed and fastened it as they continued.
“Are we underground?” Rowan shivered.
Millicent didn’t answer.
Asher absently rubbed his shoulder. “I read that most of the populace lives in underground tunnels due to the pollution. Most of Crei’s surface is uninhabitable.”
The corner of Ollie’s mouth lifted. “You read?”
Asher crossed his arms. “You’re lucky I do.”
The lift reached the end of its run, and Ren detangled from the system. When the door opened, there was a crowd waiting. Ren squeezed past bodies to get out of the lift before it went up again. Ollie grabbed his arm and pulled, and Ren popped out before the doors closed.
“What the weeds?”
Millicent rolled her head. “Personal space is not a concept here.” She shuddered and craned her neck to look toward the ceiling.
She was right. Now Ren understood why she had volunteered for Vos’s vision, at least on one level. Hands roamed over Ren’s body, elbows jutted into his sides, shoulders brushed his chest and arms. He shrank into himself and pushed the more aggressive hands off, pressing close to Ollie’s side. Ollie’s size and the look on his face kept the people back, but even with the occasional force of a shove they couldn’t go far.
Crei’s underground was packed to the walls with people. Where there wasn’t a person, there was a transport, or a vendor stall, or a pillar which shot up from the concrete ground to support the roof. Parts of the tunnel were concrete slab, others were metal, and a few walls were natural carved rock. There was no view of the sky, and if there had been a viewing portal, Ren wouldn’t have been able to see the stars through the ever-present haze.
“Watch for pickpockets,” Rowan said, smacking the hands of a man away from her pulse gun. “And creeps.”
“Is there anywhere to get personal space?”
Millicent cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. “Space is expensive.”
“I don’t care,” Rowan said. “I need to find our contact and I can’t do it without getting my bearings.”
Millicent nodded. “Follow me.” A creature fluent in the living pulse of the underground society, she moved through the crowd. Her movements were a dance, and, try as he might, Ren couldn’t copy it; he bumped into almost every person he passed. Ollie, a familiar presence within the heaving mass, walked at his back. Once, they were jostled apart, and Asher snapped his hand out and grabbed Ren’s wrist to pull him back to the group. They didn’t make eye contact, and as soon as Ren was back with the others Asher dropped his hand as if burned.
It took an eternity to walk a few yards to where Millicent stopped in front of a chained-off entrance. Ren heard the hum of a light source inside and stepped closer to look around the frame. He touched the chain, and it blared an alarm and flashed a red warning light.
Ren jumped back, startled.
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “What do we do?”
“Slide your credit chip.” Millicent pointed to a reader near the end of the chain.
Rowan rooted down into her trouser pocket and yanked out a chip. She held it in front of the reader. It scanned, and then the chain dropped to the ground. Millicent skittered across and the rest of them followed. A second later, the barrier yanked back up.
“I don’t like this place,” Ollie said.
“I don’t think anyone does.” Asher said, arms crossed. “What do we do now? How are we going to find anyone in this mass of people?”
“Well, we’ve bought space. Let’s go talk it out.”
They shuffled into the building and found a large lounge with sofas and chairs. Radiation lamps in the ceiling provided artificial sunlight. Ren basked in the warmth and stretched out his arms in the empty air. In the entire space, there were only two others, and one of them obviously worked there—he carried a tray of drinks.
They found a couch and a couple of chairs and sat.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Rowan muttered. “I’m certain I’m being charged by the minute.”
“We should go back to the ship,” Asher said. “We’re not going to find anything down here and we’re wasting money.”
“We’re not backing out of the deal we made, despotic governments or not. These are the coordinates we were given, so our contact is here somewhere.”
Ollie stretched back onto the plush cushions and straightened his legs. “It’s pretty coggin’ genius if you think about it.”
“Think about what?” Asher
asked.
“Vos. Coming here.”
Asher sighed and leaned forward. “No, I think it’s coggin’ stupid. There’s no room for a base or an army or a training ground in these tunnels. There’s no tactical advantage here.”
Ollie shook his head. “You have a populace full of people who probably want to escape this polluted, cramped planet and would be willing to sign up for any insane cause to do so,” he said, nodding at Millicent. She merely blinked. “You have tunnels and a mass of humanity to hide in. And didn’t you say the populace lives mostly underground? That leaves an entire deserted surface for a training ground and a base of operation.”
“He’s on the surface,” Rowan said. “Cogs. He’s on the surface. Coming down here was a bad idea.”
“No,” Ren said, leaning on his bent knees. “This is perfect. On Erden, there was a message emanating from a beacon, and I found it without even trying. If Millicent could show us a place to go up, and I could have a comm of some sort, I could find him.”
Rowan looked doubtful. “This isn’t a small planet, Ren. Do you think you could really scan the surface and locate him? It’s like finding a speck among asteroids.”
“I transported a ship across a cluster. I can disable weapons with a glance and turn them against their owners with a thought. I can find a signal.”
“And what are you going to do when you find it?” Asher asked. He pierced Ren with a hard gaze. “Arrest him? Talk to him? Join him?”
Ren narrowed his eyes. “He might have information about my brother.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I will walk away.”
“Are you sure?” Asher said, tone dark. “You believe Nadie’s words. She said not to seek him out, if you remember. She said not to follow—” he stopped and cut his gaze to Millicent.
“The past is fixed, but I can influence the future.”
Asher rolled his eyes. “You’re naïve.”
“And you’re a jerk.”
“Stop it. Both of you.” Rowan’s gaze bored into Ren’s. He stared back, unflinching; their conversation about Asher echoed between them. “Ollie and I will find the merchant for the tech. You, Asher, and Millicent will find a way to track the signal. Nothing more. Understood? I don’t want you going off on your own without Ollie and me.”
