She felt good. Very good. No ache in her head. No pain in her muscles.
Daith sprung off the bed and washed. She dressed quickly and asked the ship to send a message to Lieutenant Cenjo. She wanted to work more on different sections of the ship. She felt like she could repair anything.
The computer cut her off mid-message as an alarm blared at her from the console.
“What did I do?”
An automated message rang out. “Please report to your designated combat stations. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”
Daith pitched sideways as the ship lurched. She hastily grabbed onto the wall, but a shudder caused her to lose her balance and she fell back on her butt.
Rubbing at the soreness, Daith stood and exited her quarters, buffeted around the corridor while she made her way to Trey’s office.
“Trey?” She pounded on the door. No answer.
Of course. Why would he be here during a battle? He’s probably on the bridge.
Daith trotted over to the center room and the door slid open. The eight stations that circled the center chair all faced inward toward Trey in the middle. He called out orders—the crew moved with ease, even with all the tension Daith could sense in the room.
“Trey,” she called out.
Trey whipped his head around. “Daith?”
“What’s going on?” The bridge shuddered.
“The Controllers have sent sentries to stop us. We barely entered the Fracc system when they started firing.”
“How are we in the Fracc system already?”
“You’ve been asleep for two days, Daith.” He glared at her. “Go back to your quarters.”
“Not a chance. I can help.”
“Two days ago you could barely walk!” He nodded to Lieutenant Koye.
Koye grabbed her from behind. Daith sensed his anger. She felt the warmth build inside her, but didn’t want to hurt him.
Daith imagined the insides of his chest and found his breathing pumps. She squeezed slowly, enough to get his attention.
Koye wheezed.
“Let me go or I’ll make you unconscious,” Daith warned.
Koye relaxed his grip, fury evident in his black eyes.
“Hate me later.” Daith gripped the back of Trey’s chair, studying the screens in front of him. “Trey, I can help. Where are they?”
Trey hesitated before giving her a nod. “Above us.” He motioned toward the top screen. “I think we’ll be okay. We are faster than they are, but their weapons are doing more damage then I’d like.”
Daith closed her eyes. Her chest tightened, but she ignored her fear. She could do this. She could help.
Daith reached out with her senses. Maybe she could amplify the shields. Or perhaps damage their weapons? But she couldn’t connect to anything. The ships were too far away.
Daith rocked forward, butting her chin against Trey’s head.
“Sorry!”
Trey rubbed his skull. “I’m fine. Cadet Ikar, adjust heading to fly between them next time they come around to shoot. Maybe some of our ricochet will hit them.”
“Yes, Commander. Though I’m not sure we’ll avoid the blast ourselves. Our engines are strained as it is.”
The engines.
“You’ll have your power,” Daith called out.
“Daith—”
“Trust me!”
Daith sprinted off the bridge and flew down the stairs. She ran through the door straight toward the glowy amber pool.
“Daith? What are you doing here?” Byot emptied cooling tanks onto mechanical engine components spiraling up the trees. The whole room shimmered from the heat.
“No time.” She walked over to one of the giant trees and placed her hand on it. The machinery around the trees pulsed with heat, drying out the tree and sucking sap at a frighteningly fast rate. At some point soon, the trees would either dry up or start on fire.
The trees ached. She could feel their pain as they struggled silently against the hot metal.
Daith felt her own warmth surge inside her, but though it felt hot, it did not burn. She let the energy run up the trees, fortifying their fibers, giving them a temporary hardened shell to keep the metal from burning them.
With less strain, the trees relaxed, and sap poured from them back at their normal pace. The mechanical components still chugged away, but the pool became less depleted.
The ship rocked again, but this time Daith remained steady. A few moments later, the general alarm ceased and the engine room fell silent, except for the gurgling of the machines.
Daith removed her hand, the warmth draining out of her, and her legs buckled. She hit the ground hard.
Byot rushed to her side. “Are you alright?”
Daith nodded, taking slow breaths. “Actually, yes. I feel okay. Just got unsteady for a minute.” She wiped her face. Her arm sported a blood trail, minimal compared to her gushers lately.
“Maybe I should escort you to medical?”
“Really, I’m fine. I’d like to check in with Trey first on the bridge.” Without waiting for an answer, Daith strode from the room. Elated, everything felt different. The lights seemed less harsh, the air less stale. She felt truly in control of what she’d done and made a difference.
Entering the bridge, Daith reported to Trey, filling him in.
Trey’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful, Daith. Truly incredible.” He paused. “I know you did a lot for us, but how would you feel about helping with some repairs? It could go a lot faster with your assistance.”
A grin bloomed across her face. “Tell me where you need me.”
*
That evening, the ship returned on course, heading toward Sintaur and whatever awaited them. Trey insisted the sentinels would not have had time to warn Sintaur of their arrival, so the element of surprise would still be on their side. He thanked Daith profusely for all her help, but insisted she get some rest. They were one day away from Sintaur and he wanted her to be fully rested by the time they got there.
The tension in the air swirled with excitement, peaking with moments of anxiety. The crew hustled about—a few even nodded at her in the corridor as she made her way to her quarters. She’d waited so long to feel part of the crew and she finally did. She’d finally helped.
The door slid open and once inside, Daith kicked off her shoes. Yawning, she sat on the bed and thought about what she wanted to eat. Something heavy and warm sounded perfect—a stew perhaps? She closed her eyes, imagining the herb-filled scent, wondering if she should invite someone to join her. She hadn’t eaten with anyone since Dru—he told the best stories. Sometimes her belly had hurt from laughing so hard....
Daith’s head tipped backward against the wall, her breathing steady, and sleep consumed her.
Bewetru’s murder hung over Torrak and his group like a tainted fog. Their two-day trip to Dansu was filled with irritated moods, overly-fake smiles, and periods of isolation. A near-tangible shift in the air occurred when Torrak announced they arrived at their destination. The five of them practically fell out of the ship, happy to stretch their legs and breathe non-recycled atmosphere.
“All right everybody,” Torrak said, “we’ll be leaving at oh-five hundred hours. I’m going with Nuis to get fuel and restock our maintenance supplies.”
The two of them made their way to Nuis’ contact’s shop. When they arrived, Torrak eyed the peeled paint and moldy wooden edges of the building. The greenish color that covered the old yellow paint underneath gave him the impression someone had thrown up over a urine stain. Nuis laughed at the disgusted look on Torrak’s face.
“Wait until you see the inside,” Nuis said.
Torrak couldn’t think how the inside could be worse.
And yet, somehow, it was.
Cracked walls oozed with an oily liquid like a wounded animal bleeding and the stench of sweat and lubricant floated through the air in a heavy cloud. Broken-down ships being serviced let off exhaust that clogged
Torrak’s lungs every time he tried to breathe, and a sticky brownish substance coated the floor wherever he stepped. He expected some tough, dirty, large individual with stained clothing and greasy hair to walk up and greet them, but when he met Nuis’ contact, he wasn’t sure what to think.
Sa’Teh, greeted them, looking very out-of-place in the filthy environment—a clean, small, fragile-looking being, draped from head to toe in a shimmery midnight blue wrap, which only left her eyes and hands uncovered. Her hands were translucent and Torrak could see yellow globs floating around under her skin.
After a brief introduction and overview of their ship, Sa’Teh agreed to a refuel and a tune-up for a fair price. During the ship’s refueling, they went across the street for a bite to eat.
Five standard hours later, everyone bustled onto the ship, although they all agreed they wanted more time before stuffing themselves back into such a small space.
After they departed, Torrak sought some solace in the control room, but he couldn’t escape his own thoughts. He’d racked his brain for days, trying to come up with some kind of plan to save Daith, but felt at a loss. How could five of them take on an entire army with a tiny ship, no weapons, and no clue as to what state of mind Daith might be in?
Torrak rubbed his head as his mind raced. What under the stars am I doing? There have already been two deaths and the friends I do have left are going to come to blows if they don’t have direction soon.
He let out a huge sigh.
“Everything all right?” a voice behind him asked.
“Hmm?” he answered. “Oh, yeah…I guess. It’s hard to sit here and wait. I want to get to Daith and help her, you know?”
Faan sat down across from him. “Tell me about her.”
“Daith?” Torrak paused before he answered. “She is— incredible. Intelligent, witty, stunning. She can always make you feel better, no matter how much you want to stay in a bad mood.”
“Are you two…in love?”
Torrak hesitated, feeling awkward about how to answer the question, but wanting to reassure Faan at the same time. “I guess you could say I love her, but not really in a romantic way. She’s my closest friend and I have never had a connection with anyone like I have with her.”
“She sounds perfect.”
Torrak laughed. “She’s definitely not perfect. She would get really moody and secretive. When she got mad about something, she would brood on it for days. And she never liked talking about her past. We would chat about classes and tests and stuff, but not much else. I had no problem discussing my ability to analyze, but Daith would always change the subject or claim she hadn’t really progressed in any of her classes.
“I always had a feeling that deep down she feared what she might be capable of. Now that I know who her father is, I’m not surprised. I mean, imagine being the daughter of one of the most loved and feared men in our time. It’s no wonder she never wanted to talk about it or that she didn’t push herself very hard in school to improve her abilities. Those things connected her to her father; showed everyone who she really was.”
“I can’t imagine what she must have gone through growing up,” Faan said. “I always wanted to be exactly like my mother and father. And now she’s been kidnapped and forced to retrace her father’s footsteps.”
“Do you see now why I have to get her out of there? She’s not her father, even if she does have his powers, and if the Aleet Army manipulates her into using them, the results could be catastrophic.”
“I can tell she means a lot to you. It’s not every day you go out and attempt to rescue someone from an entire army.” Faan smiled, but Torrak could see a sadness in her eyes.
What had he said now? He hadn’t meant to upset her. His mind flooded with fragments of information about her. Nothing made sense.
“Faan,” he asked, “why are you here?”
“You know why. I know Nuis told you about my parents’ death.”
He leaned in. “I didn’t ask you why you want to take on the Aleet Army. I asked why you are here.”
Faan looked puzzled as she answered. “I needed a ride.”
“I don’t believe you,” Torrak pressed. “I know full well you are capable of finding your own transportation. So why us? Why this ship?”
“I-I don’t know why,” she stammered. “I’m not sure. I thought I only needed justice for my parents’ death, but now? I don’t have proof they were murdered, I don’t have a plan, and I always have a plan. So when I met you, I saw you as an opportunity to take me where I needed to go. But now…” Her pale eyes widened.
“Now,” she continued, “I don’t want you all to get hurt.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “But you’re out of your minds. You have no idea what kind of psychopaths you’re about to face.”
“That’s precisely why I have to get Daith out of there. Who knows what they might be doing to her? And since they’ve already picked their first target, it means they’ve gotten her or her abilities to a point where they can be used.”
“So what are you going to do? Stroll in there and say ‘Hey, you’ve got my friend and I want her back’? They’ve already killed Bewetru and your friend Lang. They want to kill you. Why under the stars do you think you can pull this off?”
Guilt and doubt hit him anew. “I don’t know. I rushed into this with a lot of good intentions, but not a lot of thought. It’s the strangest thing, too. I’ve always been able to figure things out. But lately, I can’t seem to do anything right. I’ve been off my guard, missed obvious signals, trusted the wrong individuals, and screwed things up all over the place. It’s not like me. It’s more like…” Torrak sat up as if struck by lightning.
“It’s more like how I’d be if I wasn’t myself.”
“What?” Faan asked.
“It’s like—we are connected—and you know how hard it is to control—must be unconsciously projecting them…” Torrak stopped and swore under his breath. “I’m sorry. I have this thing where sometimes if I—well, it’s more like moving too fast and—or like going too slow?” Torrak’s breath quickened. “No, it’s not like that—it’s more like— and then if I talk….”
Faan stared, her look both concerned and confused. “Are you okay?”
Torrak let out a long, slow breath.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes my brain works too fast and my words can’t come quick enough. I’ve had this problem my whole life. I told you before Daith and I have a unique connection, right? Well, sometimes it was almost scary. Like I could feel what she felt or she knew when I was in trouble. I think it was because her abilities would get too close to the surface. She would either pick up on stuff about me unconsciously or project her own feelings without realizing it.”
“What does that have to do with how you’ve felt lately?”
“I think I’m still picking up on her. That’s why I’ve been caught up in her dreams. And why I’ve been so unbalanced. Some of it was the memory loss, but it’s more than that. I feel like I can’t depend on myself or my actions and I’ve never felt that way before. I bet I’m picking up on how she’s feeling.” Torrak leaned back in his chair. “If I can’t trust myself, how am I going to do this?”
“What makes you think you have to do it by yourself?”
Torrak laughed. “You know what? I never once thought of that. I assumed responsibility because I saw Daith get taken. But maybe someone else will have an idea.”
“See? I’m already helping.” Faan grinned.
Tension ebbed out of him and a yawn crept its way to his mouth.
“When’s the last time you slept?” she asked.
Torrak shrugged, rubbing his face.
“Then get some sleep,” Faan said, decisively. “I’ll take care of things up here. We can all talk about a plan in the morning.”
Torrak headed into the cargo room. He curled up in one of the larger storage closets, exhausted, and used a few blankets as padding. Feeling at ease for the first time in days, he slipped qu
ickly into sleep.
Torrak sat alone in a large room on a space ship. The room felt cold, the walls thin, as if the vacuum of space pressed from the outside, trying to get in. A single light shone down where he sat and he could only see one door—a large grey slab with no apparent handle.
He stood and shouted out a hello. No answer, save his own echo. But something existed in the middle of the room. Two figures: a man’s body, and a woman who crouched over it. The woman sobbed. She turned toward him, rivers of tears on her pale cheeks.
“I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t save him. All these powers, for nothing. I couldn’t bring him back!” she cried out. “I can’t believe this is who I am. Am I really a monster? A murderer? If only I could remember who I was. Who I am.”
“Daith?”
“Stay back! If you come, you’ll die, too. And it will be my fault.” Torrak soared away from her, even though Daith hadn’t moved. He slammed into the opposite wall, his head smashing against the tough steel.
“See?” Daith shook her head. “It’s too late.”
“Daith, what’s going on? Tell me where you are.” Torrak’s hand moved to his head. It came away wet with blood.
Daith saw she’d wounded him. “No!” She shrieked. She vanished into thin air. The body on the floor remained, although now it faced away from him. It appeared different than the body lying there moments ago. Torrak approached it, not wanting to know who it was, but the urge to see overpowered him. He rolled the body over with his foot and screamed. It was Daith. Cuts and bruises covered her as if she’d been tortured. Contorted, broken in many places, twisted and mangled under shredded, bloody clothes.
Torrak tried to look away, but his stare locked with hers. Her green eyes showed images of beings being hunted and killed. Cities demolished and destroyed. And mobs screaming her name.
Torrak couldn’t move, couldn’t stop the carnage. Desperate, he clawed at his own eyes, trying to get the image of her corpse from his mind.
Still screaming, he awoke.
Torrak gasped for breath. Darkness enveloped him, except for a stream of light that crept underneath the door into the storage closet where he slept. When he raised his hands to shield his eyes, they cramped in pain. Dried blood darkened his fingers and palms.
Eomix Galaxy Books: Identity (Book 2 of 2) Page 16
