“Galen wouldn’t take her back. The others wouldn’t let him. She wasn’t in my grav-box when I escaped Oriana, so she must have been on your ship when you crashed,” the woman snapped.
“I never took her out of that box. She Disappeared once,” Tray said.
“If she we’re in stasis, how could she,” Solvere seethed. “Corey would not have died for an empty box.”
“She wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t killed her,” Tray said, funneling his rage to the surface. Swinging his cane upward, Tray knocked the stunner from Solvere’s hand, then clubbed her across the cheek, knocking her to her knees. Smacking with his cane, he vaulted over her and closed her inside the exam room. He ran for the exit at the end of the hall and slammed against the crash bar, but the door was locked. The hall was a dead end! Then he heard the stunner charge and felt the surge of heat and electricity between his shoulder blades.
11
Governor Cheoff bustled through the Marble with his usual brusqueness, handling the whirlwind of emergent tasks with practiced ease. His responses may have been more clipped than usual, and the sheen of sweat on his skin laced with the odor of nervousness, but if he moved quickly enough, no one would notice.
He felt like he’d gotten nothing done since Sikorsky’s intrusion. Colonel Rhodes had pestered him with his investigation, but what would he tell the Guard? They didn’t recognize the Disappeared as anything other than missing. Sikorsky had vanished on purpose.
Cheoff paused, staring at the main exit, squinting at the light that glared off the floor every time someone walked through. Knowing Sikorsky could get in regardless of security made Cheoff feel like an easy target, but the man was weak and unarmed. Still, his former ally had made him doubt every decision he’d made in the past thirty years. He’d questioned his friendship with Parker. He’d questioned his own autonomy. He’d dismissed Parker’s love for Solvere as lust, but were they working together against him? Was he a pawn to them? Was he even a part of their game?
“Governor, do you require a transport?” a young guard asked, tapping his shoulder.
Cheoff flinched. “I thought I’d check in on Mr. Parker.”
“He’s already in the building, sir,” the man said. His name was Garrett Turner. They had the same first name, and had laughed about it when they were first introduced. Turner never came to the second floor, but he showed up whenever Cheoff got too close to an exit.
“He’s sick,” Cheoff said. “I told you not to let him back in.”
“He said he wouldn’t be long,” Turner said. “There he is now.”
Cheoff sighed, waving when he saw Parker come out of the lift. “Deivon!”
“Governor, you’re standing still,” Parker laughed languidly, gliding to meet him in the lobby. “That’s unusual.”
“And you’re moving again,” Cheoff said. “You look better.”
“Appearance is everything, I suppose. I may not last the day,” Parker said, twirling a therapeutic grav-device between in fingers. “Speaking of appearances, did you recognize the man who broke in?”
“Sir, there was no break-in,” Turner interrupted. “Whoever it was must have had authorization to be here.”
“Then they might still in the building,” Parker said.
“I suppose that’s why I’m standing still,” Cheoff commented, giving Turner a stern look, warning him to stay out of the conversation. His guards were meant to protect, not opine.
“Damien Coro has expressed some complications in this water trade,” Parker commented, glancing down at his Virp.
“They’ve been here twelve hours. The water’s not unloaded yet?” Cheoff exclaimed.
“I did warn you Terrana would fall apart without me,” Parker smirked. Sikorsky had to be wrong about him.
“They’ve accepted our food, and we’ve allowed one of their crew members access to a local research physician. We’ve been more than fair,” Cheoff said. “They made a deal; they have to live with it. Send a crew to take the water by force if necessary.”
“Already in motion,” Parker smirked. “What did the man who didn’t break in say to you?”
Cheoff’s lips parted in surprise. He’d been riddled with doubt all day, and now he had a chance to tell Parker the truth. And the doubt won. “He was ranting about the embargo. He said we were responsible. That we destroyed the ships on purpose.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Parker scoffed. “Why would we cut off our life line? He probably has family on Aquia. He’s not the first rise up violently.”
Cheoff’s stomach churned. Sikorsky’s name sat on the tip of his tongue, then grew sour as the lie of omission persisted. He shifted foot-to-foot, growing restless from the stillness.
“Lieutenant, please send me a list of authorized Marble personnel that have immediate family in Quin cross-referenced to those present in the building,” Parker continued.
“Colonel Rhodes has already pursued that lead, sir,” Turner replied. “I sent the information to his office three hours ago.”
“Thank you, Deivon. Turner, is the General in her office?” Cheoff asked, bustling toward the stairs without waiting for an answer. General Solvere’s office was on the left side of the hall, two doors before his own. He knocked on her door, not surprised to see Rhodes sitting at her desk. The man was gunning for her job, and Cheoff preferred fresh leadership in the Guard.
“Colonel, I need a minute,” Cheoff said, moving toward his office as soon as the request was spoken. He strode behind his desk and pulled open the shades, his eyes drawn to the Terranan flag in the courtyard. Their independence had always been on his agenda. Parker just gave him the final push.
“Is this about the break-in?” Rhodes asked, standing at attention by the door.
“No, it’s about Parker. About his loyalty to Terrana,” Cheoff said.
Rhodes suppressed a snort and sauntered into the room, exuding arrogance. Cheoff had expected him to be more thrown by the topic.
“The man who broke in blamed Parker for the embargo. Not me. Parker,” Cheoff said.
“Strange. Most people don’t even recognize him as a part of this administration,” Rhodes said. “He doesn’t even use escorts when he travels. It draws too much attention.”
“Interesting,” Cheoff said. He hadn’t realized Parker was so invisible, but it gave unexpected weight to Sikorsky’s words. “The man seemed to think that Parker ordered attacks on the ships that were destroyed.”
“Did he accost you again? Why didn’t you mention this before?” Rhodes asked, coming to stand next to Cheoff by the window.
“I dismissed it. I just assumed he was paranoid,” Cheoff said. “But his words got under my skin.”
“A paranoid intruder is a dangerous one,” Rhodes said evenly. “When we find him, we’ll exercise extreme caution,”
“Destroying ships isn’t something Solvere might have done for Parker out of a twisted sense of love, is it?” Cheoff asked.
Rhodes’ lips quirked. “Sir, ships have been failing for several years. Solvere only returned to active service a few months ago.”
“Right,” Cheoff nodded. He was definitely getting paranoid.
“Governor, I am doing everything in my power to keep this world safe. Everything you need to know is in my daily report,” Rhodes assured.
“I will ask for more information when I feel the need. Not asking is how Solvere wound up with a 5 full of innocent people,” Cheoff huffed.
Rhodes’ eyes narrowed, and Cheoff clasped his hands, subtly thumbing the panic button on his Virp. The moment he pressed it, Rhodes would know, but so would every other guard in the building. They couldn’t all be against him.
“I am watching Solvere closer than anyone,” Rhodes said, an arrogant growl underlying his voice. “If she missteps, I will tell you personally.”
Deivon Parker reclined on his couch, staring at the wall. He and Diana had been making love right here the last time Galen opened a window and invited them to step t
hrough. Actually, Galen didn’t invite them. He was trying to say good-bye and Parker leapt into his realm. His spirit-hand didn’t hurt as much when he pressed it against that wall, and Parker was tempted to call in sick for a second day because the pain was getting worse.
Pulling a black rod from his jacket, Parker ran the strange medical device over his aching hand. Sky didn’t carry much when she traveled, but the satchel he’d stolen from her had many valuable gadgets. The rod technology didn’t exist in Terranan medicine, and had drawn him in with its apparent uselessness. He didn’t know how it worked; he only knew that it eased the pain in his hand.
The limb looked purple from the elbow down, but no one else saw the discoloration. The weird pulses he’d thought signaled Confluence coincided with the break-in, so whoever it was, they were hybrid, and the security footage in the 4 ruled out Damien Coro. The incident had triggered something because this phantom hand felt holes all through the Marble now.
“Should’ve stayed human,” he muttered, tucking the rod back into his jacket, then sliding a glove on to hide the ugly shade. “Galen, why did you do this to me if you didn’t intend to establish Confluence?”
His Virp beeped, and he checked, hoping it was Diana saying she found a body double in the 5. There was no alert on the Virp.
“Who’s there?” Parker asked, rolling off the couch, taking a pink-striped grav-gun from the desk where he’d laid the Sky’s things. He swept the rest of the devices back into the satchel and hung it over his shoulder. When he and Diana went to Elysia, he’d rested confidently in the hope that Galen would protect them. Then one of Galen’s cohorts flung Diana hundreds of thousands of miles onto a doomed spaceship. It was only Galen’s grip on Parker that had kept Parker from being thrown with her. The others wanted Parker out of Elysia, and Galen, for as much power as he had over humans, could not protect Parker from his own kind.
“He is not your friend. He is not your brother. He cannot integrate our worlds!” the cat-faced Elysian, Orwin, argued. Orwin was the clan leader and the eldest of the Elysians. Four-hundred years ago, when he’d first mutated toward his Elysian form, his human parents had attempted to surgically revert his face to look more human. Now, he looked mutant among his own kind.
“Orwin, we are the more powerful people,” Galen pointed out. Galen’s face was long, his tongue more agile at producing sounds than Orwin’s amputated one. “There are no spirit-carriers on the surface, and Parker has rid the surface of hybrids. The rest of the Panoptica hide in Elpis.”
“And if we take to the surface, the Panoptica will rise up against us,” Orwin warned, his large wings billowing, his long talon extending to point at Parker. “Against them. We would be hunted and slaughtered. His people would be enslaved.”
“You’re not a Seer,” Galen said, cradling Parker against his chest like a protected pet.
“Either put him in the catacombs with the others, or cloud his memory and send him to the surface. He will live and die as the rest of the humans do,” Orwin ordered.
Galen hadn’t wiped Parker’s memory, which was both a blessing and a curse. While Parker hated what he remembered, he’d be an easy target for assassination if he’d forgotten even half of his interactions with Galen.
His Virp beeped again, but no message accompanied the sound.
“Hello, brother,” Parker smiled, moving toward the window. “Is that you?”
The grav-gun pulsed in his hand, the energy seeming to radiate into his phantom limb. It was similar to the feeling the grav-therapy device had created when Janiya threw it at him. Cracking the casing, Parker shook out the glowing grav-source that powered it and laid the stone on his palm. It caused mild pain, but then he felt Galen’s hand wrap around his. He’d done it! He’d achieved the connection.
“I can’t talk long,” Galen said, his breath like a ghostly whisper in Parker’s ear. “They’ll figure out that we’re using the Confluence to connect.”
“Using the Confluence?” Parker glanced around, but Galen wasn’t here physically.
“I misspoke,” Galen said. With their newfound link, Parker could see the glowing gem in Galen’s mind.
“I thought Confluence was a special telepathy we’d share. You mean it’s a grav-source?” Parker asked. “We’re talking through a rock.”
“Yes, gravity,” Galen said. “It shares our realms.”
“You call it the Confluence,” Parker said, probing through Galen’s guilt. He smirked at the control he felt. Four hundred years of knowledge was at his disposal. “Why are you afraid of it?” he asked.
Galen had silenced as much of his mind as he could, but his anguish had steeped for centuries.
“This is how the Elysians were born. This is how spirits and humans created your kind. Four parents, two realms. It wasn’t a meditative state of unity. It was a device. A Confluence device powered by a gravity source,” Parker realized. “Does the device still exist?”
“The Panoptica destroyed it when they realized what they’d created,” Galen said. Parker felt his shame at what he was. He’d counseled Galen so many times, reminding him that he was strong, and he’d used that shame to manipulate Galen into doing his bidding. He didn’t like feeling it through the Confluence.
“This hand you gave me is dying, and it has been completely useless for reaching out to you,” Parker said.
“Until this moment,” Galen replied. Parker turned his head to the side, irritated that it felt like Galen was whispering in his ear.
“We use artificial gravity all the time,” Parker said. “How come this is happening now?”
“Because of your hand,” Galen replied. “I told you with your hand and the Confluence, we can talk.”
“It hurts me,” Parker said, pushing up the sleeve, showing Galen the purpling skin. Wherever he was, Parker figured he’d see. “It was unbearable when I touched Janiya.”
“I feel it, too,” Galen said. “She came to find the Panoptica—to return to her own kind. That pathway is not open to her.”
“Could it be if she uses the Confluence?” Parker asked. “Can I use the Confluence to open a pathway to you?”
“The path exists, but the other Elysians are trying to force it closed; that’s why you’re in pain. Their efforts will sever your spirit hand. Physically, you’ll be fine,” Galen assured, though Parker felt a tickle up his arm, and his skin color normalized. “Brother, I must warn you—”
The grav-source became hot in Parker’s hand, and he dropped it onto the table, leaving a scorch mark on the desk. He tried touching it again, but couldn’t get his fingers around it. Using an old Virp, he nudged the gravity source back into the gun, but he no longer felt the energy pulse through his hand.
“Warn me of what,” Parker wondered, tucking the gun into the satchel. Janiya hadn’t grabbed the grav-device by accident. The power source inside had created a path for her to reach through. It was a Confluence device. Without his spirit hand, he couldn’t use it, but perhaps he could teach Janiya how.
12
Morrigan Zenzele was having a hell of a week. She’d confessed to her brother that she was a drug addict, abandoned her home in Quin for the chance to play doctor on Oriana, and spent the last three days in micro-gravity, sick to her stomach. Draver wanted to put Tray in a grav-chamber, just for a few seconds, long enough to get an image reading on the effects, but Morrigan knew that if Tray even heard the suggestion, he’d have a heart attack.
She thought about the Shantia in her nightstand. It was an anti-anxiety medication that she’d been doling out to Amanda to forestall episodes. She dosed Tray when he refused to come here. No one would notice if a few doses went missing for her.
Thirty-two days. She’d been clean for thirty-two days. Or was it thirty-three now? The shifts rotated every six hours on the ship, and there was no proper sunrise and sunset on Terrana. She glanced down at her Virp. Her hands were shaking, but it was par for the course these days. The less Tray needed her, the easier it was to f
all into those circular arguments with herself, justifying her habit.
Thirty-two days. The crew needed her. Tray needed her to focus, and get Draver to listen. Morrigan could be stubborn. She could walk out.
Tray screamed. The sound was garbled and pained.
“Tray?” she called, running into the hallway. The bathroom door at the end of the hall was open, but the room empty.
“Talk to me, Tray!” Morrigan called. She waited and listened, but the halls were silent.
“Do you think he ran out?” Draver said, trotting past her and checking the waiting room.
“If he heard what you suggested, it’s a real possibility,” Morrigan said, inhaling sharply. She should have turned back the moment he vomited. She could’ve handled Coro.
“Doctor!” Draver shouted.
Morrigan hustled into the waiting room, nearly tripping over the body of the reception nurse. Two other patients were slumped in the middle of the room, looking like they’d been struck while trying to escape.
“They’re alive,” Draver called, flipping over the body of his nurse. Going to the desk, he hit the emergency vring and called the Guard.
“Saskia, trouble,” Morrigan said, tapping her Feather. “Tray, where are you!”
Dashing back into the exam area, she called for Tray, panic rising. Then she saw an emergency exit door, hanging open. There was blood spattered on the floor.
“Tray!” she called, darting outside, nearly blinded by the day GLO.
“He’s in here, Doctor!” she heard Draver shout, his voice barely audible over the hum of the medical machines. Morrigan found them in one of the clinic’s therapy rooms. Tray lay on the floor of a grav-chamber, bleeding from every orifice. The door was sealed, the red light overhead indicating the gravity level was twice Aquian norm and rising.
“Shut it off! Shut it off!” Morrigan screamed.
“I’m trying.”
Grabbing the stool out from under him, Morrigan smashed the door release, breaking the seal. Alarms blared, and the machine went into emergency shutdown. An artificial gravity wave resonated through the room, knocking her to the ground, but Morrigan fought her way to her knees, crawled into the chamber, and dragged Tray as far from the gravity generator as she could. His clothes were damp with blood.
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