by F. T. Lukens
Darby’s eyebrows shot up. “Rumors said it was a weapon. You don’t look like much of a weapon.”
“This is too dangerous.” Rowan stepped between Ren and Darby. “Don’t tell her another word. We’ll figure it out without her.”
“You’ll be pegged in an instant,” Darby crossed her arms. “I had your number before you finished docking. You won’t be able to get near the Corps, and your friend, the ship over there, is wanted, right? One scan and he’s done for. You’ll never get your missing crewman back.”
Her words were a slap. A pang shot through Ren and sank to his core at the thought of not finding Asher. He saw the same reaction in Rowan and felt it in Ollie’s tightened grip.
Ren touched Rowan’s elbow.
“We knew there would be risks. I’m okay with them as long as we can get the information we need.”
“Fine,” Rowan’s response was immediate.
Stepping from Ollie’s hold, Ren faced Darby. “You won’t have to worry about any of the hacking,” Ren said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s my job. I’m a technopath.”
Darby blinked.
Ren waited for the fallout.
She scrunched her nose again. “Huh. That explains a few things.” She shrugged. “All right. That’s great. What’s your plan?”
“You’re not afraid or curious?”
“I’m more curious about what my role is. If you can do science-magic, then why do you need me?”
Rowan tapped Darby on the forehead. “You are the distraction.”
“I don’t get it.”
Rowan leaned closer with a slight curl to her lips. “For someone so smart, you’re not thinking outside of the box. This is a recruitment center, which means turnover and fresh meat. We just need you to distract the right green newb and get his data pad close enough to our good friend here. That’s it. One little data pad, and you don’t even have to lift it, just creatively maneuver.”
Darby licked her lips. “Doesn’t sound like too much of a challenge. But this is a big favor for the measly exchange of not turning me in. I mean, a little shoplifting is time in the pokey here. A little espionage and I’m planet-side or in Perilous Space.”
“Consequences didn’t seem to keep you from breaking into my ship.”
Darby polished her glittery nails on her shirt. “Consequences matter now. Compensate me, or I walk out of here and blab all about the alive-and-well, mythical being on your boat.”
Rowan bit her lip so hard blood welled up in a perfect red bead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, smearing red across her mouth. “What do you want?”
“Credits. I want a lot of credits. And passage off this spinning heap. There’s only so much trouble you can get into on a drift this small without people beginning to notice.”
Rowan narrowed her eyes. Hands on her hips, she regarded Darby. “We can spare a few credits and we have room for one more. But not for long. We’re not dragging you around the cluster.”
“No problem. I want off at the next drift.”
Rowan held out her hand. “It seems we have a deal.”
Darby spit in hers, and slapped her palm against Rowan’s. Rowan made a horrified face and quickly wiped her hand on her trouser leg.
Laughing, Darby punched Ren in the shoulder, which almost sent him toppling. He massaged the sore spot.
“Great.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”
_
Phoebus drift was indeed tiny. While Mykonos was stacked with floors upon floors of businesses, residences, gardens, and government offices, Phoebus had only six stories and was sparsely populated. Located on the bottom level was the docking platform, and the five floors above contained a smattering of businesses, a few apartment blocks, and the recruitment office.
“I feel claustrophobic,” Ren muttered as he and Ollie went up in the lift. He scuffed his boots against the floor. “We’re going to get spotted.”
“We’re fine,” Ollie responded, voice low. “Merchants like us come and go from here all the time. It’s just like other drifts where it’s not out of the ordinary for new faces. Why do you think it has a recruitment office? The outer drifts are where people go to hide, to get away. Desperate people make desperate decisions.”
“Like joining the Corps?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
Ren tugged his hood lower over his forehead. Asher’s jacket wasn’t hooded, and Ren had switched it for one that belonged to Penelope. It hid his face, but it lacked warmth, and Ren missed the smell and the weight of Asher’s. “Was Asher desperate when he joined?”
“That’s a question for Ash.”
Ren huffed. They exited the lift, which dumped them at the end of a corridor. And at the other end was the recruitment center. The Phoenix Corps logo blazed above the entrance, daunting and brilliant and terrible. Ren turned his head away, closed his eyes, and shut down every camera on the level. He doubted anyone would notice.
“We’re here,” he said softly over the comm.
Rowan’s voice came back. “So am I.”
“Me too,” Darby chimed.
Ollie and Ren moved, stopping every few feet to browse goods from vendors and for Ren to catch his breath. About halfway down the corridor, with the center looming at its end, Ren spotted the recruiter standing in the middle of the crowd. He wore a pressed uniform: the Phoenix Corps symbol spotless on his upper arm, the mythical bird rising from flames. His hair was close cut, his back ramrod straight, and his expression one of sheer boredom. The drifters of Phoebus ignored him. They streamed around him as he stood like a rock in the middle of a creek.
“Join the Corps today. Protect the Drift Alliance. Serve the people,” he said in a flat monotone.
Ren had seen Asher fight and survive. He’d seen Asher run until he couldn’t run any farther across an unfamiliar and treacherous landscape. He’d seen him battle through a snowstorm. He’d seen him command a group and bark orders while rescuing a drift and, at another time, organizing a retreat. He’d seen Asher stand in the face of impossible odds. Watching this soldier, Ren didn’t see any evidence of similar experiences.
Darby appeared from within the crowd and bumped into Ren’s shoulder. “He’s our mark.”
“Yes,” Ren said.
She kept walking fast but nodded and again merged with the flood of people.
Ollie and Ren spotted a restaurant and shuffled to a booth near the window.
“Is this close enough?”
“Yes.” Ren relaxed. He reached out, touched the energy of the data pad. “I’ve got it.” Over the comm, Ren spoke to the team. “Darby, you’re up.”
“Right.”
Ren ducked his head so the fabric of his hood cast his face in shadow, as Ollie interacted with the waitress. With his energy spread out and his vision tinted blue, keeping his focus on the data pad, he tracked the movement around their location. Ollie touched the back of Ren’s hand.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Amid the busy intersection, Darby materialized, walking backward, pretending to talk over comm to a friend. She knocked into the recruiter, her elbow went into his stomach, and together they stumbled.
“Oh!” she cried out.
The recruiter steadied them with one hand on Darby’s arm, the other still gripping his data pad.
“I’m so sorry,” Darby said, not stepping away, keeping her body close to his. She gently rested her hand on his forearm and tilted her face up. “Thanks for catching me.”
His expression didn’t change. “You should watch where you’re going.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
The recruiter, his features stern, disengaged from Darby and took a step back. He clutched the data pad closer to his chest. “No.”
&nb
sp; Darby smiled, brightly and cheerfully, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Right. You’re big, strong Phoenix Corps. Little me couldn’t hurt you.”
“I think you need to move along, miss.”
Ren winced. This wasn’t going well.
“Maybe I want to talk a little longer.”
“Unless you’re interested in enlisting, no.”
Darby bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes. “I am interested. I want to enlist.”
The recruiter looked Darby up and down. He shifted to cradle the data pad in his arm. “You want to enlist?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Darby said. She pulled her shoulders back. “What? Do I not meet criteria?” Puffing out her chest, she frowned. “I may be small, but I would be an amazing asset.”
He sighed and tapped on his screen. “I guess. At least I’ll make my quota.”
Darby twirled a strand of hair. “Do we have to do this right here? I mean…” She tossed her head to the side. “…that restaurant has nice booths.”
“Look, this isn’t a social club. This is a military organization.”
“Oh, well, I wanted to talk to you about…” Darby trailed off. She floundered and caught sight of the standard-issue pulse gun at his side. “Your pulse gun.”
The recruiter’s stern façade slipped. “My gun?”
“Oh, yeah.” Darby nodded enthusiastically. “I want to know all about your gun.”
His face lit up. “You like weapons?” His fingers grazed his holster.
“Weapons? I love weapons. Guns, knives, electric batons, even explosives. I love them all, but I don’t know much about them.” She pouted. “Would I learn that in the Corps?”
“Oh, yes. We teach you everything, from the history of the old laser guns to the new kinds of stunners and electric blades. I heard a story about how one of our corporals recently used an ancient projectile to take down a star host.”
Ren winced.
“Wow. That’s amazing. I want to hear everything.”
The recruiter looked around. “Okay, I have a few minutes until my shift replacement gets here. As long as you don’t blab…” He jerked his chin toward the restaurant. “…we can sit for a minute.”
Darby smiled coyly and crossed her heart. “I won’t tell a soul.”
He smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Okay, come on.”
A smidgeon of guilt at taking advantage of the kid’s sincerity wormed into Ren’s middle, but it was short-lived. He ducked his head and closed his eyes. He tracked the data pad’s movement. He heard a shuffle of feet, a sound of metal sliding along a table top, and Ren stilled, waiting for Ollie’s sign.
“He put it down. Go.”
Ren focused on the data pad and delved into the system. With Ollie next to him, Ren didn’t need to split his concentration. He wholly devoted his power to the device, speeding past passwords, burning through a firewall, and hurtling into the Phoenix Corps system itself.
This was different than disabling ships through a sensor grid. This was different than racing through circuits in the walls of the citadel. This was different than hovering in the electricity and relays of the ship. This was different than making weapons spark or beacons stop or cuffs fall from his hands. This wasn’t mechanics, but information. This operation required finesse, not strength.
Ren poured his star into the system. He searched for any hint of Asher’s name or whereabouts and flooded into every nook and cranny of the digital layout. He clenched his eyes, gritted his teeth, and allowed the star to consume him. He brimmed with power. Overwhelmed by static, sparks lit on his tongue, and white noise hummed in his ears.
Sliding through the torrent, Ren searched and searched and… found nothing.
He needed to go farther. Surging, Ren dug deeper, traveled from the surface information into hidden files. He found classified documents and bypassed the security levels. Desperate for Asher’s name, he rifled through warrants and disciplinary actions.
He paused when he found a file on known star hosts. He spotted his own name, and his death certificate, signed by VanMeerten herself. He flipped through it and found names of people he knew—Abiathar, Nadie, Millicent—and names he didn’t know. As interesting as it was, he couldn’t get caught up in it. Unless…
Flipping back to his own file, he perused the information. Asher’s name wasn’t stated, but there was a mention about a companion to the star host: a Corps soldier who acted as a handler; a soldier who had gone AWOL and was pursued on Erden and Crei; a soldier who was disciplined, knocked down the ranks, and now stationed on the planet Bara.
Bara. Asher was on Bara. Asher was planet-side. What was the Corps doing there?
Ren went back to the star host file, elated he’d found Asher’s location, and worried about what he was doing on a planet, especially after what Asher had suffered on Erden. Focused on Asher, Ren almost missed the name on one of the other files.
Liam.
Ren halted. It couldn’t be. He slammed into the document and—
“Ren! Ren, come on. Let go. We have to go.”
Snapping back into his body, Ren gasped. His teeth clacked together as Ollie shook him. His frame was limp and exhausted. Disoriented, Ren could only focus on one fact.
“Bara. He’s on Bara. Asher is at an outpost on Bara.”
But Liam. He’d lost Liam. He had to go back. He had to—
His resolve caught in his throat. The lights were off, even the emergency lights. Media boards and info screens and even the mood lights by the observation windows were out, pitching the whole drift into darkness. The background whine of the systems sputtered out.
Ollie cupped Ren’s face in his large hands. “Ren? Ren, was this you? Did you do this?”
The citizens of the drift were afraid, and murmurs escalated into talk, then cries and shouts, as unease set in when the systems remained off. A tide of fear rose and crested and the populace of Phoebus drift burst into panic.
The recruiter Darby had distracted stared with wide eyes at his data pad, undoubtedly seeing the codes Ren had cracked and the firewalls he’d bypassed. Or was he afraid? Stunned? Reading orders from his command as the drift sat dead in space? The glow from the data screen, the only source of light, lit his features casting him in eerie shadows. He jumped to his feet, his chair skittered away behind him, and he ran.
Ren stood, but his legs collapsed beneath him, and only Ollie grabbing him kept him on his feet. The stars outside the window no longer spun idly by. The air recyclers shut off. The only system Ren detected was the grav, and even that quaked in his chest, dared to fail, and send the populace floating. The airlocks held, but docking had shut down. Sensors went dark. Communications silenced.
Ollie shook him again. His large hands were like iron on Ren’s biceps. “Ren!”
“This wasn’t me. This isn’t me.” A shiver crept down Ren’s spine.
Rowan, having abandoned her lookout post, appeared. “Run.” Rowan pulled Ren by the wrist. “Ren, we have to leave. We have to leave now before this place is torn apart!”
Ren froze. A recognizable star signature pinged his senses, echoed his own power, and pulsed under his skin.
“She’s here.” He swallowed. “Millicent is here.”
3
Phoebus descended into chaos.
Ollie lifted Ren and slung him over his shoulder, despite Ren’s protests.
“I can face her!”
“No,” Ollie said. He grabbed Darby’s hand and hauled her out of her seat. Frozen with fear, her face pale, her limbs locked, it took both Ollie’s and Rowan’s physical urging to get her to move.
“What’s going on?” Darby asked, voice small and terrified. She clutched Rowan’s arm and stumbled as the four of them moved through the crowd. “What’s happening? It’s not a blip. It’s too long to be a bli
p.”
“This drift is under attack,” Rowan said. “And we’re not staying around to find out by whom.”
“It’s her,” Ren said. He hung over Ollie’s broad back. Ollie’s shoulder dug into his stomach, aggravating his wound. He didn’t appreciate being carried around like a sack of parts, but he didn’t trust his ability to stay with them amid the frenzied crowds. Using so much power and exercising the amount of control needed to finesse the data had drained his atrophied body. Someone slammed into Ollie; pain sliced down Ren’s torso and robbed him of his breath.
People ran and screamed. They pounded on locked doors. They yelled for others in the dark. They bumped into each other, pushed through crowds, and ran from the lifts to the stairs and back attempting to find an exit.
Through it all, Ollie and Rowan strode with a purpose, heading to the access stairs that led to the docks.
“Put me down,” Ren said, tears gathering in his eyes at the sheer terror of the citizens. “I can fight her.”
“No,” Ollie said again.
Ren struggled in his grip, and Ollie’s grasp went tighter until it was painful.
“I can help these people. Please, let me help.”
Rowan paused long enough to turn and grab Ren’s face in one hand. Her thumb and fingers dug into his cheeks as she lifted his head. Her green eyes blazed.
“Do I need to remind you what happened? What she can do? She manipulated you. She made you a ghost. She betrayed you, and you almost died. The only people you’ll be helping is us to get off this drift before Millicent vents it.”
Rowan let go, and Ren sagged.
They maneuvered through the crowd. Rowan dragged Darby by the wrist as though she was a disobedient child. Ollie’s imposing figure cut a path through the masses, but the crowd became denser as they neared the exit that led to the docking platform.
A crowd had formed around the door to the access stairs. The mass swelled; the poor souls in the front were squished into the metal walls. The banged their hands and fought to pry the door open.
“Ren,” Rowan said.
“If I do it, she’ll know I’m here. She’ll know I’m alive. She won’t let me go.”
