“So fix it!” Tray demanded.
“We can’t do that here,” Benedict said.
“I’m not leaving this ship until I get back to Quin,” Tray said. He crawled to the crew lounge and fumbled the hatch before he gave up on locking it. He was getting slower and weaker with every step. “Danny!”
He reached for the ladder, but he could barely stand, let alone climb. “Danny!”
“Tray!” Danny hollered, peering down from the bridge.
Forcing himself to move through the pain, he started climbing. One step. Two. He was so dizzy and the narrow ladder rungs hurt his bare feet.
“No, no, no,” Danny murmured, meeting Tray part way, scooping under his shoulders. Tray sobbed as he surrendered to his brother’s strength. Tray couldn’t remember when that became okay—when it became easier to accept comfort from his brother. He used to feel so weak and patronized by the move, but now he felt safe. He was beyond humiliated when he realized he hadn’t even made it out of the crew lounge. “Amanda, get a blanket. I’ve got you, Tray.”
Tray felt the blanket around his shoulders, and he sobbed softly as his brother wrapped him up and laid him on the couch. Danny placed Tray’s head gently on his lap, then ran his fingers over Tray’s torso, reciting a prayer under his breath.
“I’m not going with them. I’m not going out there again,” Tray insisted. He felt a straw between his lips and smelled brandy. He took a sip, and felt soothed by the taste. “Why are we drinking?”
“Grief,” Amanda said, dabbing Tray’s lips and offering the straw again. “Santos told us what happened to Johann.”
“He’s dead?” Tray asked.
“Disappeared,” Amanda replied.
Tray took another sip and glanced up at his praying brother. “Are you two okay?”
Amanda shrugged and Danny shook his head. There was a knock on the hatch and Benedict peeked in.
“Captain, I need a signature if he’s not going to the hospital,” Benedict said.
Tray pulled the blanket up over his ears as though that could hide him.
“What’s left to do?” Danny asked, inviting the man in.
“Surgery, likely,” Benedict said.
“We have a doctor. She can fix me,” Tray muttered, his toes curling as bursts of anxiety and adrenaline agitated his injuries.
“Can she?” Danny asked.
“I didn’t talk long with Dr. Zenzele, but I doubt frontier surgery is her forte,” Benedict said pithily. “The knitter you have isn’t strong enough or precise enough to catch the bleeders. She’d have to cut him open to reach the deeper wounds. Which means anesthesia, blood transfusion, and long recovery. The hospital provides a safer option.”
Tray cringed. Everything felt so heavy, like it had in the chamber. No one had planned for him to end up there. Things just happened to him when he went out into Terrana, and the more things that happened, the less likely he was to see Hero again.
“It’s my choice,” Tray insisted.
“If your choice is to bleed out into your gut, I need your signature saying you declined my help,” Benedict said.
“As your brother I veto that option. I love you too much,” Danny said, his fingers brushing across Tray’s cheek.
Tray was shaking from stress, hunger, and humiliation. If his father could see him now, he’d be so ashamed.
“Stay with him while I talk to Morrigan,” Danny said, shifting Tray’s head off his lap.
“They knocked her unconscious,” Tray moaned, a headache joining the other aches in his body.
“Ms. Serevi treated her. They’re both worn out and in need of rest,” Benedict said.
“My stomach hurts.”
“Because you’re bleeding internally,” Benedict said, his irritation starting to show. “You’re handling him on your own then?”
“No,” Danny said. “No, let’s get him to the ambulance.”
“They’re going to kill me,” Tray whimpered, fear and defeat crushing him with a force greater than gravity. “Danny.”
“You’re not going to die, Tray,” Danny said. “I’m riding with you. Unless you’d prefer Saskia.”
Tray didn’t know what he wanted. The pain in his gut escalated and he felt like he was drowning. He knew he was going to die out there. “Tell Hero I love him,” he whispered.
14
Hawk’s Virp beeped and he tapped the mustard yellow button to let Saskia know he was fine. The crew’s Virps had mapping programs and locators, so they could track and retrace their steps over alien terrain, and if he got separated from Santos, he’d need it to find his way back through the monochromatic Terranan streets. Tray had designed the program, and so long as the ship didn’t move and remained within the Virp transmission range, the program worked well. It was more primitive than the bells and whistles that came to life once the device was synced to Terrana’s network.
The Main City was a mixture of gray moonslate and dying, yellowing foliage. There was a line of shop fronts down the street, but none had doors. Brightly colored merchandise spilled onto the sidewalks, but there were more shopkeepers than shoppers. The street ran straight and long all the way to the center of the Dome, where a flag rose from a garden.
Santos took him past the flag to a shaded jungle gym. Children spilled out of the blocky school building, shouting gleefully as they climbed higher than seemed safe. Most of the people in Rocan were pale, but these kids looked gray instead of pink. They climbed with agility that seemed supernatural.
“Why are we here?” Hawk asked.
“My son. We have a ritual. I walk by when his class comes out to play,” Santos explained. His pace slowed, but he didn’t stop. A freckled blond kid stepped tentatively into the yard, holding his teacher’s hand. He looked about six and he scanned nervously until he saw Santos, then he waved and let go of his teacher’s hand.
“At least he’s having a good day,” Santos said, his shoulders relaxing.
“How long do we stay?” Hawk asked, frustrated.
Santos’ eyes crinkled. “He waved me over,” he said, trotting to the fence. The kid approached too, his eyes wide and locked on Hawk. Santos motioned Hawk to come to the fence. He made the introductions in Terranan, and Hawk tapped his Feather to get the translation.
“Hawk’s never been to the 3 before,” Santos explained to the boy, his voice warm and comforting.
“You’re going without me?” the little boy squealed jealously. “Are you bringing me peaches?”
Santos held a finger to his lips and backed away from the fence with a smile. Hawk followed his lead, glad the encounter was short and sweet.
“He was worried you had me hostage,” Santos said, switching back to Trade. “It’d be cute if it weren’t a legitimate threat he lived with daily.”
“Then we’d better bring back some peaches for him,” Hawk said. “And carrots. Tray always wants more carrots.”
Santos smiled, his eyes twinkling as his body relaxed.
“What does Benedict like?” Hawk wondered. “I should get him a thank you.”
“Benedict James? You have a crush on the medic?” Santos teased.
Hawk suppressed an embarrassed squeak, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
“Why don’t you ask him to dinner and let him show you where the good food is?” Santos laughed. Hawk had already fantasized about that, but having only seen the man in emergency medical situations, he couldn’t work out the timing to ask. Sky would have just planted a kiss and let that be the invitation. Santos said she’d left him heartbroken. She’d left Chase heartbroken. She’d left Hawk’s father heartbroken. Sikorsky hadn’t given Hawk the same vibe, but maybe he’d just had more decades to deal with his heartbreak. That was Sky’s unfortunate signature. She left.
“This gate is scarier than the others,” Hawk said, stopping at the edge of the dome. Where the 4 had a wide door big enough for Oriana to pass through, this pass looked like a short, narrow tunnel, and there were
vacuum tubes leading in and out.
“Because there are bugs and birds,” Santos said.
“There are birds?” Hawk asked excitedly. He loved watching birds fly.
Santos led him into one of the tunnels and sealed the first door. The room was claustrophobic and the air pressure shifted, sucking their hair upward. Water droplets spritzed at their faces and clothes. Santos pressed Hawk onward down the tunnel.
“We don’t have to stop. It’ll work while we walk,” he explained.
The tunnel was shorter than Hawk expected, and when they emerged on the other end, he was hit by a wave of humidity carrying the scent of manure. He covered his nose and mouth, stifling a sneeze, feeling the sting of pollen in his eyes. The sound of buzzing insects echoed through the dome, giving it a living sound that the Main City lacked.
“Wow,” he said, coughing to clear the itch in his throat. A bird flew overhead and he laughed in delight. There were buzzing insects flitting between the flowering plants and groaning farm equipment trundling about.
“It’s so loud,” Hawk smiled. He wiped the sweat from his cheek. His skin was hot and he looked at the glowing luminators providing light to this dome. They felt more intense than the 1 or the 4. Could he get sun-burned here?
“The Ag Center is this way,” Santos said, taking Hawk down a stone path lined with bushes. The landscaping in the other domes had been neglected, but everything here was lush and watered.
“That’s where Sky is?” Hawk asked.
“It’s the only building I’ve ever seen Parker go to in the 3,” Santos said. “The only reason a Guard would take her here is for him.”
The Farm dome looked bigger than the entire city of Rocan, and though they passed a line of single-story dwellings, it didn’t seem as though a lot of people lived here. The Agriculture Center stood out as a proper structure, two stories high, with windows of iridescent moon-glass. On the first floor, some of the windows were screened over, so they could be opened without letting the bugs in.
“What kind of security does this building have?” Hawk asked.
“All automated. So hardly any at all,” Santos replied.
“If we trip an alarm, how fast will the Guard get here?” Hawk checked. The more he understood, the more he could use his hybrid ability to help.
“It’s the 3. You’ll get the vigilante militia first. I can guarantee they’ve already noticed you,” he said, ruffling Hawk’s red hair. He went to one of the barrels on the side of the building and started shopping for fruit. Hawk hadn’t quite figured out if the people here used money or credits, or if they were currency-free like Rocan.
“Pick something. Then we can go inside to register it,” Santos whispered.
It didn’t make sense. If they could walk inside the building, then Sky could walk out. Hawk backed away from the barrels and circled the building. He reached out with his mind, searching for Sky’s Virp, willing it to turn on and connect to his. If she was a prisoner, she likely didn’t have it.
Then he saw something glowing red on the second floor. Hawk blinked rapidly. When he had spirit eyes, he used to see Sky glow, but those eyes had been taken. He’d thought they were gone forever. His heart skipped, and he rubbed his temples, concentrating on seeing past the red glow.
“Sky,” he murmured, running back to the barrel and tugging Santos’ sleeve. “Do the upstairs windows open?” he asked, dragging Santos back and pointing up.
Hawk made a motion to Sky to open the window, and she raised her hands, showing him that they were bound.
“You’re not getting her out of the 3 with those cuffs on her,” Santos said gravely. “The gate will automatically lock, if we even get her that far.”
Hawk pursed his lips and concentrated on the window. Moving energy was hard, but moving mechanical parts came a little easier. The windows on the first floor slid sideways, and the second floor seemed to work the same way. Sky helped, pointing to the locking mechanism and motioning with her fingers how he’d need to twist it. The moment the opening was wide enough, Sky threw herself out the window.
Hawk gasped, but Santos stepped in to catch her. In the low, lunar gravity, the fall wasn’t as hard. The kids on the playground had been climbing and falling from equally high. Santos sank to the ground, holding Sky on his lap. She looped her arms around his neck, getting in position for him to carry her.
“You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe,” she whispered, trying to sound protective, but failing. Hawk pressed his fingers to the cuffs, trying to get a feel for how they worked, praying they didn’t have a brutal switch that would sever her hands.
“I don’t know where to take you, Sky. I can’t free you from these cuffs,” Santos said, his eyes darting to and fro.
“I can,” Hawk said. The biometric scanner was an easy override for his power and within seconds, the cuffs came off. “Do I get to keep these?” he asked.
“No,” Sky said, tossing them away, then hugging Santos again. Her clothes were twisted and her shirt on backwards. There were strangulation bruises on her neck, and her eyes were bloodshot.
“Can you walk, bébé?” Hawk asked.
“We can’t sit here,” Santos said, helping her stand. Hawk ducked under her other shoulder, and she alternately nuzzled Hawk and Santos as they walked. Her balance and strength seemed decent, but the red glow of her spirit-side got so strong that Hawk couldn’t look at her directly.
“This is nice,” she whispered, tugging the blue sleeve of his flight jacket.
“Tray fixed it for me,” Hawk said, beaming proudly. The jacket hadn’t fit him in years, and Tray had it altered in Quin, so that Hawk could wear it again. It had taken him awhile to get used to the blue sleeves without seeing the garment as ruined, but he loved that he could wear it.
“Are you cold? You’re shivering,” Hawk said, letting go so he could slip out of the jacket.
Sky shuddered and swung around, squeezing Santos tightly and sobbing on his shoulder. “They were my friends,” she whispered.
“They were once mine, too,” Santos said, cradling her head, sharing her pain.
In Fox Run, Sky had been betrayed by the Drava—people she’d once called friends. Leaving before they turned on her was how she coped. Santos cradled her face and kissed her forehead. Sky raised her chin, ready to kiss back, but neither of them closed the distance.
“My wife will hurt me if she finds out I helped you,” Santos said.
Sky bit her lip. “You could introduce us. Let me explain.”
“Not today,” Santos said, his gaze lingering. He hugged her again, squeezing to let her know she still had a friend. “I’m glad you’re not traveling alone anymore, Sky.”
Morrigan twiddled the pack of Shantia strips between her thumb and forefinger, debating indulging in the escape the sedative would bring. She’d suggested the Joslin clinic, figuring it was the safest way to placate Coro. She’d gambled with Tray’s life and lost.
“Morri?” Amanda knocked softly and entered without waiting for an answer.
Morrigan shoved the Shantia into her nightstand and pulled her bedcovers over her head. Her implied desire for privacy did not deter Amanda.
“Saskia, Morri needs help,” Amanda vrang. She squeezed onto the narrow bed, rubbing Morrigan’s arm to warm her. “Morri, have you slept at all?” she whispered.
“Only the sleep Saskia drugged me into,” Morrigan grumbled into the pillow. She knew Saskia meant to help, and she knew she needed it, but the feeling of the jet injecting medicine under her skin had awakened the need for a fix, and denying that need had her in shivers.
“What else did you take?” Saskia asked, flipping on a light as she intruded.
“Does it matter?” Morrigan huffed, hating the growing attention.
“Did you give yourself Detox?” Saskia asked, fishing Morrigan’s hand out from under the blanket. “Honey, when you’re gravity sick, there’s no shame in taking medicine. Or taking a break even.”
“I
got Tray hurt. Nearly killed,” Morrigan griped, jerking away. Her limbs twitched and her teeth chattered, just from the memory of withdrawal. “He warned me. Danny warned me. I didn’t listen.”
“I listened. I’m responsible for the safety of this crew and this happened on my watch. I’m responsible,” Saskia countered.
“For taking Tray to a doctor? No!” Amanda cried, smacking them both. “You didn’t hand him over to Diana. Don’t even try to take the blame for what she did.”
Saskia rummaged through the nightstand and pulled out a loaded jet. “What is this?” she demanded.
Morrigan cringed in shame. After the medics left, she’d soothed herself by making the stupid cocktail she tried so hard not to need. She’d loaded the jet and brought it here, and she felt both better and worse knowing it was there. She listed a few of the ingredients.
“With the meds I gave? This would kill you!” Saskia cried, setting it on the dresser on the far side of the room.
“It’s full. I didn’t take it,” Morrigan retorted. “I didn’t take anything. I just thought about it.”
“Can she have coffee?” Amanda asked, producing a lidded mug.
“Yes,” Morrigan said, pushing back the covers. She hissed when the cold air touched her skin, but wrapped her fingers around the mug to absorb its warmth. The hot drink quelled her nerves, but Terranan coffee wasn’t a good as Aquian bunna. Amanda sat next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched, looking on with concern.
“Danny wants you at the hospital as soon as you’re feeling rested,” Saskia said, crossing her arms.
“Why? I don’t know what to do. I’m completely useless,” Morrigan said.
“Dr. Draver had an idea about how to use the surgical knitter to save Tray an invasive surgery,” Saskia said.
“That wasn’t his idea. It was mine. He said it wouldn’t work,” Morrigan complained. It was the first thing she’d suggested once she saw Draver’s scan.
“Seems like he’s changed his mind, Dr. Useless,” Saskia taunted. “Danny’s trying to reach out to a Patriot doctor we used to work with.”
The Confluence: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 6) Page 10
