Lost Planet 01 - The Lost Planet

by Searles, Rachel

  “Sorry, Captain.” Forquera ducked back and spoke into a device on his wrist.

  The captain turned back to Maurus. “Move,” he growled, pointing to a door. Maurus turned away from him and led the way, shoulders thrown back defiantly. Forquera gestured to Chase that he should follow. A soldier in a blue jumpsuit met the four of them at the door, swiping the door open with a badge hanging around his neck, and they entered a long room lined with shower stalls that would have seemed like a communal bathroom were it not for the strange medicinal smell in the air.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, the captain whipped around and with a powerful backhand knocked Maurus to the floor.

  “Scum!” he spat. “Your treachery has taken thousands of innocent lives.”

  Of course the captain had to keep up the façade of blaming Maurus for the Trucon disaster. His crew wouldn’t know about his involvement in the sabotage—he certainly wouldn’t admit to it in front of them. Chase waited for Maurus to reveal to everyone in the room that Lennard was the true criminal, but lying on his back where he’d fallen, Maurus only pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head.

  Lennard continued. “If it weren’t for the need to maintain the integrity of the Fleet, I’d execute you on the spot.”

  Maurus barked out a short laugh. “Integrity? I truly hope you don’t believe that.”

  Before Lennard could act on the fury that crossed his face, the blue-suited soldier stepped between them, helping Maurus to his feet and leading him to an open stall. Maurus walked under a spigot and glared at Lennard, his arms still bound, as a hot shower washed over him, rinsing away most of the sticky red mud. The steam rising around him filled Chase’s nose with a sharp chemical odor.

  Lennard loomed on the side, his fists clenched, and continued his act. “I knew I was taking a risk, accepting an alien officer into my crew, but I never expected to wind up with a mass murderer. You’ll be dead before the day is through, if I get my way.” Maurus stepped out, dripping, and gave Lennard a dark look as the medical officer held a blinking device up to his arm.

  “He’s all clear, no sign of radioactivity or biological threat,” said the medical officer.

  Maurus shook the water from his hair. “Are you done? You don’t have to put on a show for me. Let’s be honest.”

  The captain smiled with a ferocity that made Chase’s skin tingle. “Oh yes, please. Let’s.”

  Here it comes, thought Chase.

  Maurus took a step forward, and in a tense voice, asked, “How much of the plan were you aware of? Did you realize the scope of what was going to happen to Trucon?”

  The captain narrowed his eyes. “Of course not. What do you take me for, Maurus? Don’t try to place any of the blame for this disaster on me.”

  “None of the blame?” Maurus jerked his head back in mock surprise. “Take your share, Captain. You may not have known the entire plan, but you certainly deserve some of the credit for sending me to Trucon and letting the consequences unfold.”

  The captain grabbed him by the collar. “How dare you even suggest—”

  “You know it wasn’t me! I didn’t plot the attack!”

  Lennard pulled Maurus closer to him, and his voice dropped lower. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not intimately involved with the Karsha Ven?”

  Maurus’s face flushed red. “You can’t use me like this!”

  Lennard shoved Maurus away. “Use you? Why should I care if anyone uses you? You’re just another extremist from a dying planet that shouldn’t even be a part of the Federation!”

  The medical officer ushered Chase into the shower just as Maurus spat at Lennard. The hot chemical water streamed over Chase’s head, rinsing away the dried mud and blurring his vision. Captain Lennard threw a punch at Maurus, who bent over and rammed his head into Lennard’s abdomen, knocking the air from him with a grunt. Forquera jumped in and pushed Maurus to the floor, and Lennard drove a boot into Maurus’s ribs. It connected with a sharp crack, and Maurus screamed.

  “Stop it!” Chase jumped out of the shower, water cascading down his face. “Let him go, he didn’t do anything!”

  Lennard and Forquera turned and looked at Chase, and for a moment, everyone froze. Lennard took a step toward him, his face suddenly as gray as his hair.

  “Maurus, what is this?” the captain croaked. “What have you done?”

  “I—what?” Maurus looked confused.

  Chase took an uncertain step backward, and Lennard whipped out a handblaster, pointing the barrel straight at Chase’s forehead. “On the floor! Get down!”

  Chase sank to his knees. His insides turned to ice. The coating of mud had been protecting him—now he was fully exposed.

  “Don’t you touch him!” shouted Maurus. “He’s got no part in this!”

  “Captain?” asked Forquera, arching his eyebrows. He looked at Chase again, but showed none of the recognition that the captain did.

  “Get me a set of shackles now and cuff this thing up!” yelled Captain Lennard, spraying Chase’s face with spittle. Thing? His eyes were wild in a way that made no sense, as if Chase were somehow terrifying. “Take them to the brig.”

  “Both of them, Captain?” asked Forquera, waving over a soldier to shackle Chase’s hands behind his back.

  “Yes, both of them! Now!” Lennard backed away, his wild eyes glued on Chase. Without another word, he turned and bolted from the decontamination room.

  Pointing his blaster, Forquera herded Maurus and Chase from the flight deck and into a large hallway. Maurus marched in front, glaring straight ahead and leading the way down a series of corridors. Chase followed behind him, so dazed that he barely noticed all the soldiers who stopped and stared at them.

  What he had feared most of all had come true. He was a captive of the Fleet, exactly where Dr. Silvestri had warned him not to end up. But worse than that, how did Captain Lennard recognize him—and why did he seem so shocked to see him?

  The brig was a long, narrow room with a desk station at one end, and four windowed doors spaced along the side wall. A young soldier sat behind the desk. “Colonel!” he barked, snapping to attention. His eyes immediately went to Maurus.

  “Is number three open?” Forquera asked.

  “The new one’s in number three,” said the soldier, looking curiously at Chase. “Two is empty. A child, sir?”

  Forquera shook his head brusquely. “Captain’s orders. Put them in two.”

  The young officer badged open the holding cell and ushered Chase and Maurus inside. The door slid shut behind them. The small room was lined with a bench, and Chase sat on one side, facing Maurus, both of them with their hands still secured behind their backs.

  Maurus tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m finished,” he said softly. He opened his eyes again. “Chase, I’m so sorry you’ve gotten wrapped up in this.”

  “I’m sorry too.” Chase tried to focus his thoughts on Maurus’s predicament, to avoid thinking about his own. What came was guilt: If he and Parker had never followed him into the Shank, if they’d never ended up on Vo’s ship, Maurus would have made it to Lyolia. “You could have gotten away.”

  “We were never going to survive down there on the Zeta,” Maurus said.

  “But if you still had your silver case…”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. Lennard would have just thanked me for returning it to the Fleet before he tossed me out the airlock. This is my fate—my life has been forfeit since this whole mess began.”

  “They have to let you contact your people, right? You can still ask them for help. Make them call the Lyolian president or whatever.”

  Maurus exhaled and looked at the ceiling. “Chase, when I said my people, I never meant the Lyolian people.”

  “But you’re from—”

  “I’m Lyolian, yes. But I’m talking about my people.” He frowned at Chase, as if deciding how much to say. “The Karsha Ven.”

  The informatio
n was slow to sink in—Maurus was admitting that some of the accusations were correct. That he was a member of the reviled Karsha Ven rebel group. “You mean … you are a terrorist?”

  “No!” Maurus’s voice was harsh. “The Karsha Ven is not a terrorist organization. It’s a group of Lyolians trying to get the best choices made for our world. Some branches have used violence and tarnished our reputation, but at its core, it is not a violent movement.”

  “How can a member of the Karsha Ven become a Fleet soldier?”

  Maurus shook his head. “You can’t. I had silly ideas about unity and leadership. So many of the Karsha Ven leaders are too stubborn, too reactionary, but I thought I could be the one to make a difference. I thought I would bridge the disagreements and bring peace to my homeworld. So I lied, I hid my connection to the Karsha Ven and climbed the ranks of the Lyolian military, and when the opportunity to participate in the officer interchange program appeared, I jumped on it. Or at least I thought I had, when in fact it seems I was stepping into a well-planned trap, delivering myself as the perfect scapegoat for this attack. Clearly the captain knows—he probably knew all along. I’m a fool!” He kicked at the wall and lay down on the bench.

  Chase didn’t speak, still trying to reconcile this information. He thought he knew Maurus by now—persecuted soldier from a troubled planet who had stolen from Chase and Parker, but also protected them. But if part of the accusation against him was true, if he had lied his way into the Fleet, then what else had he lied about?

  The door to the cell slid open, and Captain Lennard walked in. He stared at Chase for a moment. “Where did you find your companion, Lieutenant Maurus?”

  Maurus cracked one eye open and glared at Lennard.

  “How do you know this boy?” Lennard asked.

  Maurus swung his legs over the edge of the bench and hoisted himself upright, looking suddenly alert. “How do you know him, Captain? It certainly looked like you recognized him.”

  A thundercloud crossed the captain’s face. “We’re not talking about me here, Maurus. Answer me.”

  Maurus took a quick breath, as if he were about to say something, and then he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

  Lennard turned to Chase. “What is your name?”

  Chase hesitated. “Corbin Mason.”

  Lennard narrowed his eyes. “Where are you from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t,” spat Lennard. “What is your mission?”

  “My … mission?” Chase asked. “I’m just trying to find out who I am.”

  “Who you are is no one. You shouldn’t even exist!” The naked hatred in Lennard’s eyes made Chase feel like the man might try to strangle him at any moment. “How do you know Lieutenant Maurus?”

  Chase stared at him for a moment, stunned. “We found—”

  “Shut up!” hissed Maurus.

  Lennard leaned over so that his flushed, raging face was all Chase could see. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I will figure out what you’ve got planned! Whoever sent you here won’t get away with any of this!”

  The captain raised his hands as if to strike Chase, who jerked away in surprise. A sharp tingle ran up his arms as his wrists slid right out of the shackles. He pushed his hands farther behind his back, hoping the captain wouldn’t notice, but the captain had already turned his attention back to Maurus.

  “You’ll be tried for your crimes later today, Maurus. Your sentence will be carried out immediately following judgment.”

  Maurus lurched to his feet. “No. I’m allowed a representative from my people.”

  “Your people! You think the Karsha Ven’s going to waste any time fighting for you? They don’t care. To them, you’re already dead.”

  “They won’t abandon me! You Earthans have no concept of what we’re truly about.”

  Lennard paused. “So you admit, you are Karsha Ven?”

  His eyes flashing with horror, Maurus pressed his lips together for a moment. “I’m allowed a representative,” he repeated.

  “Not for a court-martial. This is military law.”

  “You can’t do this to me.” Maurus’s voice grew frantic. “I need more time. This isn’t—” He ran at the captain, who shoved him hard in the chest. Maurus stumbled backward, unable to catch his balance, and fell against the bench.

  “You should have considered that a long time ago. Someone will be down shortly to escort you to the court-martial.” Lennard stalked out of the cell, and the door slid shut behind him.

  Maurus lowered his head, breathing raggedly. His chin-length hair hid his face.

  Maurus had revealed the truth about himself. It was time for Chase to give up his secret as well. He stood up and crossed the cell.

  “He’s right, you know,” Maurus said in a broken voice. “The leaders of the Karsha Ven will believe I did this. They’re not going to come anywhere near me.”

  Chase held out his bare wrists. “Look at me.”

  “Let me be, Chase!” Maurus’s voice was strained. He looked up through the curtain of his hair and paused. “How did you get your shackles off?”

  A twinge of excitement kindled deep within Chase. “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

  Maurus’s gaze rose to Chase’s face. “Why does the captain know who you are, Chase?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t understand. But I know I’m … different.”

  Before Chase could continue, the door slid open, and he whirled against the wall, pressing his hands behind his back again.

  A pair of blank-faced soldiers entered. “Lieutenant Maurus, come with us.”

  Maurus looked up at Chase. His dark eyes were wild, but there was a focused intensity that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “It’s too late to help me. But get yourself out of here. Make sure the truth gets out with you. Make sure the universe knows what’s happening.” The soldier reached under his arm and yanked Maurus toward the door. “Get off the ship! Go to—” His last words were cut off as the door slid shut.

  Alone in the cell, Chase hunched in the corner and attempted to put the shackles back on so that no one from the Fleet would wonder how he got them off. He jammed the metal cuffs against his knuckles, but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t force his hands back into them.

  He had no idea how to control whatever it was he could do—how could he help Maurus, let alone himself? How did he think he would get off an enormous battleship in the middle of the galaxy, when all his allies were either locked up, or dead? Not even when he’d woken up in utter confusion at Parker’s home had he felt this lost. The reality was this: The enemy had him.

  There was no way he was going anywhere.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Chase lay on the hard bench in the holding cell, unable to sleep. The lights never went off, and he had no idea how much time had passed since they’d arrived on the Kuyddestor—at least two days, maybe three. A soldier had removed the shackles lying beside him on the bench without comment, probably assuming Lennard had taken them off, and had entered his cell several more times to deposit a tray of food and retrieve it again, untouched. No one would answer Chase’s questions about Parker or Maurus.

  Parker was dead. He had to be. There was no way he could have survived. Chase’s mind kept replaying his last memory of Parker as he writhed on the floor, choking on thick gobs of acrid foam that dribbled from his mouth. And then the terrible stillness when he stopped. Chase mashed his hands against his eyes and rolled toward the wall, his face contorted with misery, but no tears came.

  He was too angry with himself to cry. Why hadn’t he prevented this from happening? Sure, Parker was smart—annoyingly so at times—but Chase was the special one. He should have been able to protect his friend, to save him, but he’d failed. And now Parker was gone. He’d never again ridicule Chase for not knowing something, never give him that easy grin and friendly slap on the back. He ceased to exist. The thought made Chase f
eel hollow with grief.

  The door opened. Chase lifted his head and saw a soldier standing outside his cell.

  “Come with me,” the soldier said.

  Chase sat up quickly. This was the first time anyone had spoken to him since Maurus was taken away. “Where to?”

  The soldier frowned and stepped back, motioning for Chase to exit his cell. Chase followed him out into the hallway.

  “Is my friend alive?”

  The soldier stared straight ahead as he marched, ignoring the question.

  “His name is Parker. He came here with Goxar poisoning. What happened to Lieutenant Maurus? Where are you taking me?” Chase’s irritation grew as the soldier kept walking, blank faced, and he fell into a sullen silence.

  They came to an elevator and took it up several floors to a long gray corridor. A wild range of possibilities flickered through Chase’s head, but deep in his gut he feared it was one of two options: He had been called to witness either Maurus’s trial or Parker’s funeral.

  They finally stopped in front of a pair of double doors. The soldier waved his badge, and they walked into a room full of people.

  Sitting in a chair in the middle of the floor was Parker.

  “You’re alive!” Chase rushed forward but stopped short of giving Parker a hug, standing awkwardly in front of him with an enormous grin plastered across his face.

  “Retrieved from the brink of death, they tell me.” Parker returned an embarrassed smile as he pulled himself to his feet. His color was still waxy, with unhealthy brown circles under his eyes and shiny new skin around his mouth, but he seemed okay—a world of difference from the last time Chase had seen him.

  “How did they—what did they—?” Chase stammered. He reached out and gave Parker’s arm a squeeze, just to make sure he was really there.

  Parker shrugged. “Oh, you know, pumped me full of synthetic blood, restarted my heart a few times. I guess they had to replace some of my veins and skin with grafts. The ship’s doctor is really good.” He rubbed his chest at the spot where the Goxar’s spike had hit him, wincing a little, and sat down again with a wan smile.