by F. T. Lukens
He squeezed his eyes shut, and as he did, he found the power, twisted up in his despair. He reached for it. It pulsed to his fingertips, driven by his sorrow, and he gave in to it. He surrendered to the warmth, needing the escape.
Eyes half open, vision tinged blue, Ren lifted his hand and let the dam break, allowed the tendril to turn into a stream and then rush into a river, let the power to do as it would. He merely acted as its conduit.
A pulse of blinding light swept over the courtyard. A boom reverberated beneath Ren’s ribs. He heard shouts, but they were blocked by static, white noise that slowly became louder and louder until it filled Ren’s head. He went limp, his body gave out beneath him, and he fell to the ground amid the chaos.
* * *
Ren woke in the cell.
He blinked a few times in the low light, confused as to how he got there. His body ached, and, when he raised his head slightly, his stomach roiled. Wincing, he gingerly lowered his head back to the mattress.
“Hey.” He heard Asher’s voice next to him. “You awake?”
Ren turned slightly. Asher sat next to the bars, staring at him, his green eyes almost glowing in the darkness.
“Hey,” Ren croaked. His throat was dry and gritty as sand.
“Hold on. Your guard friend said you’d be thirsty.”
Asher passed a canteen through the bars.
“He’s not my friend,” Ren said. The canteen was heavy for his lax muscles, and the act of propping himself up and taking a few sips was taxing enough for him to want to go back to sleep. His eyelids fluttered, but Asher poked him hard in the side.
“Not yet,” he said, voice stern. “You need to tell me what happened before you go back to sleep.”
Unbidden, the image of Jakob dying, his body writhing, alight with electricity, replayed in Ren’s mind, and tears streaked down his cheeks. He was too tired to brush them away, and he was strangely unashamed of crying in front of Asher.
“They killed my friend,” he said.
Asher leaned his forehead on the bars and reached through, gripping Ren’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“He tried to escape and they caught him. It’s my fault.”
Asher sighed. “Ren, you didn’t kill him.”
“I was too slow. I should’ve found a way out sooner.”
“You did what you could. I know. Okay? I know you’ve been looking for a way. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but sometimes things are beyond your control.”
Control. If Ren could learn how to control his power, then they could escape. They could. It was too late for Jakob, and the loss weighed heavily. It settled like cold iron in Ren’s middle. But it wasn’t too late for the rest of them.
Asher raised his eyebrows and squeezed Ren’s hand. “Ren? Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not going to listen, are you?” Asher pulled back, his fingertips skirting along Ren’s skin, before he dropped his hand to the stone.
Ren pushed his body to sitting and bit back the moans of pain. His limbs were sore and he had a welt on his back from the yesterday’s fall in the ship. He was bruised; round purple splotches adorned his arms where the guards had held him back. But they hadn’t been able to stop him.
Ren lifted his hands and spread his fingers, considering them, looking at the torn nails, the blisters, the caked dirt.
“Ren? You’re freaking me out. Say something.”
Furrowing his brow, Ren turned to Asher. “I did something,” he said, voice soft. “I can do something.”
Asher leaned in closer. “Tell me.”
“I can… I don’t even know how to explain it, but I can manipulate tech. It… talks to me. I’m not explaining it right.”
Asher took a breath. “Ren, I know.”
Ren met Asher’s gaze, puzzled. “You do?”
“I knew the minute they brought you to the cell in shackles.”
Confusion gave way to anger, which surged hot and swift, and Ren smacked his open palm against the bars. It stung. Asher flinched away. “You knew?” Ren said, voice ringing in the small space. “This whole time, and you knew? I could’ve been practicing. I could’ve gotten us out. I could’ve gotten Jakob,” Ren’s voice caught on the name. He swallowed, then continued, quietly. “We could’ve escaped.”
“Would you have believed me?” Asher shot back. “If I told you that you are a star host? A technopath? Or would you have thought I’d gone crazy, stuck in this cell for over a year?”
“You,” Ren said, pointing an accusing finger at Asher, “have no right to be angry. You don’t get to be angry!”
“Why not? Because I didn’t tell you? Or is it because I’m a drifter? Is that it? Well, screw you, Ren. I’ve been stuck in this cell because you stupid dusters don’t know how to stop your own damn tyrant.”
Ren got to his feet. He swayed, fatigue clouding his thoughts. “How is it my fault? Huh? I didn’t even know there was a war going on! My mother kept everything from me!” Ren pulled up short. “She kept everything from me,” he repeated softly. “The stories about the machine men. The limited tech in our home. Not allowing me to go to the space docks.” Ren sucked in a sharp breath. “She knew.” He looked around the cell, as if seeing it for the first time. “Is there anyone who didn’t know before I did?” he yelled.
His chest heaved, and he clenched his fists and paced the perimeter of the cell. Though he was exhausted, the power sparked inside of him. It arced between his fingers, blue tendrils weaving around Ren’s hands.
“Ren,” Asher said, “you need to calm down.”
He heard Asher’s voice, but it was as if he heard it from down a tunnel instead of a few feet away. The sound buzzed like static.
And Ren couldn’t calm down. His mother had known. She had known this whole time, and Ren seethed. Asher had known as well, had called him a technopath. And Abiathar, his voice had opened something inside Ren he hadn’t known existed. The malfunctioning prods when he was captured were his doing. When the cuffs fell off his wrists, it was because he wanted them to. And Abiathar was going to use him somehow. Use him to fix ships. Use him against the Phoenix Corps, against the Drift Alliance, to further the cause of a despotic Baron.
And he was stuck in a cell with no way out.
And Jakob was dead.
And Liam was in danger.
And he was so angry.
Ren let out a frustrated yell and with it a blast of power.
The light across the room, which had been broken since Ren arrived, flickered on. It illuminated the space on Asher’s side of the dungeon, and his shadow draped across the floor. Ren followed the shape with his gaze, and landed on Asher leaning against the bars, eyebrows raised.
“Feel better?”
Ren shook his head. His emotions were all jumbled up.
“I’m sorry,” Asher said. “I really am, but you have to calm down and tell me what happened. And then we can figure out how to get us both out of here to warn our families.”
It was a relief to be told what to do. Ren sank down to the mattress. He crossed his legs, gripped his knees and took a long, deep breath. Asher mirrored his pose on the other side of the bars.
“Good,” Asher said, once Ren had slowed his breathing. “I know you’re angry with me, but let me tell you what I know.” Asher shifted forward. “The girl here before you was a technopath too. She could manipulate tech, but not well. And I’m sure she couldn’t do that,” Asher said with a gesture, indicating Ren’s outburst. “She wasn’t nearly as powerful as you are. They took her away, I’m assuming to assist the soldiers in the fiefs. I knew what you were when they brought you in, when you said Abiathar made your cuffs fall off. He is a star host too, but his power allows him to control people with his voice.”
Ren perked up, remembering the way Abiathar’s voice had slithe
red into his head, how it had compelled him. “He did it to me.”
“He does it to anyone he suspects to have power.”
“I shorted out three prods when I was captured. I didn’t know it was me. I thought it was faulty tech.” Ren looked at his hands and wiggled his fingers. He had been terrified, and maybe that’s why he hadn’t felt the power rush through him.
“Tell me what happened on the ship.”
Ren bit his lip. “I merged with it. I was annoyed with how the engineer and the guards had treated me and I slammed my hand onto the hull. I could feel everything. It was amazing,” Ren said, not able to keep the awe, the desire out of his voice. “I’d never felt anything like it before. I wanted to stay there, but Oz broke the connection.”
“By knocking you down, right?” Asher tapped his fingers against the seam of his mouth, contemplative. “And in the courtyard?”
“The guards tried to hold me back from getting to Jakob, and I did something. I’m not sure what, but there was a pulse.” Ren furrowed his brow. “I think I disabled the prods.”
“It sounds like your power is tied to your emotions. If you can control them, you can control it. You’ll have to work on remaining calm.”
Ren took another deep breath. “Easier said than done when you’ve been enslaved and forced to watch your friend be executed.” He understood now why the machine men—the technopaths, as Asher called them—had cut themselves off from humanity. Everything would be easier if Ren didn’t feel. He lifted his head and met Asher’s concerned gaze. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Of you?” Asher said, a small smile playing around his lips. “A skinny idiot duster like you? Never.”
Ren mustered a half-hearted smile. “Good thing. If the legends are true, I will need friends to keep me from going crazy.”
Asher’s smile slowly melted away. “Don’t worry about it for now. We’ll cross that bridge if we need to. Right now, we need to figure out an escape plan, because I think Abiathar is going to use you for more than repairing tech for soldiers.”
That was one thing Ren was afraid of. “And what? Escape to be captured again?”
“My sister has a ship. You get me to a spaceport, and I can get a message to her. She’ll get us passage off-world.”
“But my family…”
Asher looked away, shoulders slumped. “Ren, if we go back to your village, you’ll only be putting your family in danger. Abiathar knows what you are and how powerful you are. He’ll come after you. At least going off world, we’ll have a chance to hide in the vastness of the cluster.”
Asher was right, but this was hard information for Ren to process. Liam was in danger, but he’d always be in danger if the Baron wasn’t stopped. If they could get off-world and get a message to Asher’s mother, then the Phoenix Corps could intervene.
“I can disable the force fields,” Ren said. “I know I can. We can sneak out through the siege tunnel, but we’ll need keys too. And the only person I know with keys is Oz, and he’s not going to give them to me.”
Asher sighed and moved to lean against the wall. As he did so, he accidentally kicked his tin plate and it skittered across the floor. Suddenly, he sat up straight. “Oh, stars,” he breathed. “I’m a cog. I am such a cog.”
“What?”
“Your friend, Sorcha, works in the kitchens, right?”
“Yes.”
Asher grinned wide. “I have an idea.”
* * *
The next day, back in the courtyard, everyone gave Ren a wide berth. Oz didn’t talk to him as he normally did. Instead he kept his distance, and kept his hand on the handle of his prod. The soldiers watched him with equal parts fear and suspicion. The errand boys gawked at him with wide eyes and slack mouths. Ren ignored them all.
The stage sat in the middle of the courtyard, and, for a long moment, Ren stared at the construction. It was a grim reminder, and though the grief was still raw, Ren steeled himself and hardened his resolve.
On his table was an inordinate amount of prods in a stack, confirming Ren’s belief that his power had shorted them out. Scowling, he grabbed the first prod off the pile, and with a push of energy fixed it without much effort. He dropped it in a crate and snatched the next. He practiced keeping calm despite the anger that simmered within him.
While he worked, he reviewed Asher’s plan. He needed to talk with Sorcha.
At lunchtime, the regular girl from the kitchens walked to his table, but stopped short. Pale and timid, she looked up from under her bangs. Ren bared his teeth at her and snarled, and the prod he was working on sparked to life in his hand.
She squealed and turned and ran.
Oz knocked the weapon out of Ren’s hand. It clattered to the ground.
“What the stars, Ren? Are you trying to get yourself flogged?”
“What do you care?” Ren snapped. “You’ve made it clear you’re not my friend. So leave me alone.”
Oz straightened, his fingers wrapped around his own weapon. “Watch yourself, techie. You’re only as dangerous as Abiathar allows.”
“Screw you. I have no respect for people who turn on their own.”
Oz’s features flickered from shock to anger. His expression went flat; his green eyes narrowed. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know enough.”
Oz didn’t respond, and Ren kept his head down and worked. A few minutes later, Ren’s stomach growled. He stood and Oz flinched, startled by Ren’s movement.
“I’m going to get lunch,” Ren said, stalking toward the line, not waiting for permission.
The recruits parted in front of Ren and he moved to the front of the line. He grabbed a tin plate and held it out. Sorcha looked up from where she stirred the stew. Lips pursed, she ladled a portion into the tin.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why did you scare Mindy?”
“I need to talk to you.” Ren grabbed a piece of bread. “Can you get away?”
Sorcha looked around and nodded toward another girl, who stepped forward and took over at the large pot. After wiping her hands on her apron, Sorcha took one of the cups, filled it with water and followed Ren. He led her to a place by the wall and sat down.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Ren put his plate down and accepted the cup she offered. He gulped down the water.
“I’m fine. Are you okay?”
She fiddled with a string on her skirt as she stared at the looming stage. “I miss him.” A tear streaked down her cheek.
“I’m sorry. I tried.”
She tentatively touched his wrist, right below the shackles’ ring of metal. Her hands were roughened from work; her white-blonde hair was hidden beneath a scrap of fabric. “I know. I saw. You… you scared a lot of people.”
“Good,” Ren said. He meant it. It was good they were frightened of him.
“Ren…” she started, trailing off.
“I need you to do something for me,” he said, cutting into whatever she wanted to say. “I need you to be the one to bring the dungeon prisoner his food.”
“That’s Mindy’s job.”
“Well, take it from her,” Ren said, his tone forceful, impatient.
Sorcha cringed, snatching her hand back. “Why?”
“Because we need the keys to be able to escape.”
Ren picked up his plate, swiped his bread into the stew and took a bite.
“What do you mean?” she breathed.
“I have a plan. Tomorrow night. We’re all leaving. If you can get the keys.”
“But… but…” she sputtered. “But the guards give Mindy the keys and then she has to bring them back. They’ll notice if I never return.”
Ren leveled a glare at her. “Then make sure they don’t miss you.”
“I don’t understand. Do you want me to…�
�� she lowered her voice. “Do you want me to hurt someone?”
Irritated, Ren dropped his empty plate to the ground. “Do whatever it takes, Sorcha. Get the keys.” Ren left no room for argument. If it meant she knocked the guard over the head, or if she had to kill him, or seduce him, Ren didn’t care. His empathy had run dry and that was odd because, not too long ago, Ren would have done anything to get Sorcha to notice him. Now, he only cared about what she could do for him, how she could aid in their escape. Deep down, his lack of compassion pinged wrong, but for the moment he disregarded that.
“What… what have they done to you? What happened? What happened to the sweet, shy boy I grew up with?”
Ren stood when he saw Oz walking their way. He picked up the plate and handed it to her along with his cup. “He died yesterday. Get the keys. Be ready. We’re leaving tomorrow night.”
Sorcha stood. She took the dishes and pulled her shoulders back. Jaw clenched, she gave Ren a sharp nod, then turned and went back to her station.
Ren got to his feet and faced Oz. Oz glared at him.
“You don’t get to walk off, techie. Now, I let you have some time with your girl out of respect, but get back to work.”
Ren raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Or what?” He looked down to where Oz clutched the prod at his hip. “That’s not going to work on me, and we both know it.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I miss the kid who was scared of his own shadow. I think you’ll be better off going back to your cell.”
Ren shrugged. “Fine.”
Once Ren was locked in his cell, Oz addressed Asher. “You need to talk to your friend.”
He left and Asher cast Ren an incredulous look. “You okay there, Ren?”
At Asher’s words, something snapped into place, and Ren shook his head. He lifted his hand to his temple and blinked, as if coming out of a daze.
“I… I don’t know.”
Asher crossed the cell. “Look at me.”
Ren complied. The timbre of Asher’s voice swept through his consciousness, clearing out the static and white noise that had taken up residence there.
