Destiny's Blood

by Marie Bilodeau

  Romero cleared his throat and she forced her eyes to meet his. The deep orange surrounding his dark pupils reminded her of his fingertips and their hard nails.

  “I fear the Berganda may get in our way,” he whispered again, as though he too feared breaking the spell. Seela brought the cup to her mouth so that she could watch his eyes drop, as she knew they would, to her long, naked fingers. Her fingernails were crisp and white. Blooms had once dwelt there, before the gloves had been imposed on her people. She saw his brow glisten, and smiled impishly over her cup.

  “She’s of no value, and can be killed.” Romero was so intent on her hands that the words did not even seem to register. Slowly, so as to not lose her power over him — or his over her — she extended her arms to her sides, putting the cup down on the console. Romero gave no warning, nor did he protest, as she reached down and unlocked his chair, and swivelled him to face her. Their legs entangled in the small space, their fingers but inches apart. Hers trembled slightly.

  “The only Berganda you need to worry about for the next few minutes is right here, Romero Aquilone.” His name felt glorious on her lips and she reached out to close the gap that separated them. Her heart tried to beat out of her chest, and the shuttle air suddenly felt cold and foreign on her flesh. The Kilita brought his hands an inch over hers, her heat and his intermingling. She looked up, knowing her eyes held the same fury she saw in his, as she willed herself vulnerable for the first time in her life.

  He lowered his hands as she raised hers. Her head lurched back, and her mind and body shuddered as one.

  i

  “Are you really just going to hand her over?” Josmere demanded as she stared down the dimly lit metallic corridor of the space docks.

  “She’s the one who said she’d go.” Avienne shrugged. “We’re not forcing anything on her.”

  Josmere ran her fingers through her thick hair, tugging at the ends. in frustration. She’d been making this argument for the last hour. “Her sister was just killed. She’s not thinking straight!”

  “You sure?” Avienne replied. She eyed the Victory’s approaching crew.

  “I’m sure! This whole thing is suicide! Those people,” Josmere continued, flailing her arm in Gobran Kipso’s direction, “already killed her sister!”

  Avienne turned to face the Berganda. “This is out of our hands. If you’re so worried, why don’t you just speak to Layela about it?”

  Josmere’s shoulders dropped as her anger vanished, looking toward the hallway leading to the Destiny as she answered, where Layela still dwelt. “Because she refuses to speak to me. I don’t think she even wants me to come with her. But…she’s the only family I have left. If I don’t follow her, where do I go?” Josmere hated herself for showing such weakness and was surprised to feel Avienne’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Believe it or not, I understand you perfectly well,” Avienne gave a grin, too tight and too thin. The hand was gone as quickly as it had come, and she shrugged again. “This will be of little comfort, I realize, but they said they only needed to kill one. Layela should be safe.” Josmere’s eyes shot up and she bit back a harsh reply. Avienne lifted her hands defensively.

  “I mean it, little comfort. But, on the bright side,” Avienne continued, grinning more widely this time. “I do believe we can convince the captain to take you in, if you’re interested.”

  Josmere’s eyes opened wide. “Me? Stay on the Destiny?”

  Avienne grimaced as Kipso stopped near them, and lowered her voice. “It’s not much, I realize, but it’s a good group. And you’d double the female power of the crew!”

  Josmere’s pulse quickened and her mouth went dry. She wondered if Layela would stop her from following. That won’t happen, she repeated over and over again, her mind tumbling and forming plans — how she could follow, how she could stow away, how she could make sure she would not be left behind.

  Anything to avoid being left behind. Avienne was still looking at her inquiringly and Josmere shrugged. “I don’t think I’d be much for long-term space travel.” Avienne gave her a wry grin, but Layela, Cailan and Ardin were exiting the Destiny to join them, so she didn’t respond.

  Layela’s steps were quick and certain, Ardin and Cailan but a step behind. The younger man’s eyes rested often on Layela’s stride or the back of her loose, flowing hair, given a dull blue glow by the fluorescent lights.

  Josmere’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse timed with the echo of Layela’s steps. The girl walked towards something Josmere knew she did not want. She imagined her friend’s fear of stopping, lest she never start again.

  The Berganda shook her head. She knew she was wrong, and that Yoma had been wrong too. Layela had fallen hard a long time ago, and they had feared she would never be the same again. To this day, Josmere still didn’t know what had scarred her so deeply, though she had more than enough terrible theories to count. Yoma and she had never spoken about it — the one subject too terrifying for her friend to discuss.

  She watched Layela stride down the catwalk without hesitation. Layela was still scarred and probably always would be, but she was stronger than before and less afraid. She had bloomed again, even more beautifully, whether she realized it or not.

  Josmere took a deep breath of stale air, hoping that she would be there when Layela saw her home for the first time.

  And the home of the Berganda, once. Deep in Josmere’s heart, she cradled the hope that she could save both Layela and the dwindling Berganda. Perhaps someday she could hear their song again.

  “Lady,” Gobran nodded slowly as Layela stopped before him.

  Josmere, lost in the remembered song of the Berganda, took a moment to realize that her skin prickled and her mind had tuned with someone else’s, not just with the Booknots on the planet. Another Berganda was here!

  Her feet moved before she could scream a warning. She threw herself full into Layela. Pain tore through her leg, ripping the scream from her lungs.

  Around her she could hear havoc breaking loose. She covered Layela, shielding her from bullets. The acrid smell of nearby energy weapons assaulted her senses.

  “Solariers! Solariers!” The scream broke for mere seconds, stopping suddenly with a gurgle. Bullets riddled the ground around her, and her leg throbbed in anticipation of more pain. Under her, she could feel Layela’s quick short breaths, and she huddled closer. They would not get her.

  The simple act of clutching tighter with all her limbs intensified the pain in her leg and sent waves of nausea through her. They had to get out of the line of fire, but she didn’t think her leg would carry her. Shielding her in place was the best she could do. “You’re not going without me, Layl. I’m not letting you go!” Josmere sputtered through clenched teeth.

  The girl shifted and turned under her. She faced Josmere with a gaze that wasn’t the blue of twilight, but the green of the sea. “I don’t expect you to let her go,” she whispered.

  Josmere’s eyes grew wide and her breath caught in her throat. “Yoma?” Then Gobran was over them, grabbing Yoma’s arm and pulling her away and to her feet. Josmere latched onto her friend’s smooth arm, green eyes meeting hers as Yoma mouthed the familiar words, “We’ll meet again.”

  Cailin pulled Josmere up while Ardin and Avienne covered them. Ardin screamed at Layela as he returned fire, and Josmere held her friend’s arm for a second longer before letting go. She watched her being whisked away to the Victory as she herself was carried to the Destiny.

  Cailan held her close, the smell of sweat and grease strong on his clothes. His arms felt as safe and sturdy as the strongest ship.

  She felt her tears well up and fought them back — tears of joy that Yoma was still alive, and of guilt that she had just let her go, where she would have held on to Layela.

  “Close her off!” Cailan screamed as they entered the Destiny. Avienne stopped to close the back ramp of the ship. Cailan put Josmere down and glanced at the green blood flowing fr
om her thigh.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Josmere said, forcing a grin and doubting she pulled it off. “Berganda can heal. I can take care of myself.”

  Cailan furrowed his brow. “I can’t carry you up. I need to be on the deck and I need Ardin and Avienne.”

  “I’m going back out on the Victory,” Ardin said, reloading his gun.

  “I need you on the bridge, Ardin.”

  “She’s alone with those maniacs!” Ardin met the captain’s eyes.

  “Those maniacs are your people, and she is your queen.”

  Ardin’s eyes hardened.

  “Ardin,” Josmere said, reaching up and taking his hand. “She’ll be fine. Please believe me when I say so. Tend to this ship. It’s what she would want.” She felt bad for not telling him that Layela was still on board the Destiny, but she wasn’t certain that it wouldn’t put her friend in danger. It was a secret she would keep to herself, for now.

  Ardin studied Josmere a moment longer before nodding, his eyes still made of steel. He intended to follow later, she knew.

  “Will you be okay here for now?” Cailan asked Josmere.

  “I’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to the floor to try and stop her dizziness. “I’ll just wait here.”

  Cailan hesitated a moment longer, then stood, entered a code beside a panel and pulled out two guns in their holsters. He handed them to the Berganda, turned around without a word and clutched the ladder.

  “Don’t get dead,” Avienne said as she passed by, throwing a med kit at her. “I was actually starting to enjoy your company!”

  Then she too was gone, followed closely by Ardin. He cast one final look at her that seemed to say you had better be right. The Destiny lurched as Cailan shouted orders up the shaft to Lang.

  Josmere pushed the med kit aside. It would only hold supplies for humans, which would be useless to her. She took deep breaths and pushed herself up, her hands firmly holding the wall.

  Now that she knew Layela was still on this ship, she needed to find her and keep her promise to Yoma.

  i

  “The Mirial fleet is trying to break for the nebula,” Avienne reported. She scanned the data scrolling on her console and shook her head. “They’re encountering heavy resistance from government ships. The whole bloody fleet must be here!”

  Cailan sat on his chair, tapping his fingers on its arm.

  “It was bad enough we just let them take her,” Ardin scowled from the flight seat, his knuckles white on the controls. “Are we just going to watch them blow her up, too?” He never once turned around to look at Cailan, his eyes trained on the view port before him.

  “It isn’t that easy,” Cailan replied. “We’re enemies to both those fleets right now. I don’t intend to get the Destiny destroyed, whether by ally or foe.”

  “Sidelines,” Ardin turned around, his eyes dark. “I think that’s where I’ve been my entire life.”

  Avienne sucked in her breath, as surprised as she was shocked by her brother’s words. Those should have been her lines, really. Except even she would have had more tact, and at least turned them into a joke.

  Cailan looked toward the battlefield and the way the old captain’s shoulders dropped made Avienne want to slap her brother. “Sometimes,” his voice was so tired, it stilled the harsh words she was preparing for Ardin. “Sometimes, my young friend, it is the only place for one to be.”

  Ardin’s eyes softened with what Avienne believed might be apology, but he kept his silence and slowly turned back to view the destruction before them.

  All I want is to leave, and all he wants is to live a little bit more. I guess, in the end, Ardin and I both crave the same thing.

  ­Her console lit up.

  “Message coming through from Gobran Kipso, Captain,” Avienne said, grateful for the distraction. “Putting him on speaker.”

  “Captain Cailan.” The voice was calm on the speakers, coated with the sounds of battle. “We need to get the heir to Mirial and we could use more firepower. If you are willing and able, it would be an honour to fight by the Destiny once again.” Kipso’s voice was gone and the channel closed.

  “All stations report,” Cailan ordered calmly.

  “Engine is patched up, but I can’t guarantee how long it’ll hold,” Ardin said.

  “We have some weapons,” Avienne followed, “and some shields, but our actual armour is still badly wounded, and the patch jobs the Mirialers deigned to do are not only ugly, they’re of questionable alloys.”

  “Navigation’s fine,” Lang reported, unlocking his chair and letting it carry him one full turn. “Unlike all the fancy stuff you youngsters deal with, I actually have to use my brain and memory.”

  “A miracle we don’t crash more often,” Avienne mumbled and Ardin shot her a grin. The familiar sight washed over her like warm water and she grinned back at him.

  “If we’re going to go down,” Cailan said as he sat straighter, his shoulders strong and squared, “then let’s go down like true Mirialers.”

  “I’m not a Mirialer!” Lang complained as he locked his chair back down.

  Cailan ignored him. “Ardin, Avienne...” He hesitated and his voice softened. “If you’d like to get off the ship now, please do. I could never hold that against you, or think less of you.”

  Avienne sighed. Now he offers. Ardin turned around and locked eyes with her. She grinned and shrugged. “Ask me again after this.”

  Cailan turned and cocked an eyebrow at her, a smile creeping into his eyes. He turned back and looked at Ardin, who nodded to him.

  “Crazy kids. I’d have gone,” Lang muttered. A ship exploded outside the view port, and he whistled low.

  “Avienne, advise them that we’re coming. Ardin, bring us to Victory’s side and protect her wounded flank. Lang, keep an eye on all the other ships.”

  “Is that all?” the navigator mumbled, and emptied a small metal flask.

  The ship heaved forward, the lights flickered once, and the great beast warmed and gained in speed.

  Avienne concentrated on the incoming government ships. Cailan rubbed his hand on the arm of his chair and whispered, “Just one more battle, Lady. Just one more victory and then you can rest.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Deep within the decks of the Destiny, past the door where Travan had lost his life, a floor panel lifted, pushed up by two pairs of gloved hands.

  “I don’t like this,” Romero whispered as he pulled Seela up. “We should stay together and double our chance of success.”

  Seela brought her hand to the side of his face, so human except for its orange eyes, and she fought the urge to reach for his hands and rip his gloves off. There would be time for that later.

  “It’s the best way. I’ll find the girl, you tear down the Destiny’s engines. Then the colonel can have his day and we can maybe take a vacation.” She smiled up at him, running her fingers down his face and his chest until the orange eyes closed.

  She could still see the protest in them when they reopened seconds later. “And don’t worry about me. The Berganda will protect me. She needs me.”

  Romero still looked sceptical. “She seemed loyal to her friend.”

  Seela gave a short laugh. “She saved me from that smuggler in the flower shop, remember? And besides, if there’s one thing you must know about Berganda, it’s that the survival of our race is imperial in my kin’s minds.” She paused and winked at him. “And I, dear Romero, represent the only chance for the Berganda to survive. And she knows it.”

  i

  Layela struggled to find the surface again, struggled to breathe fresh air. A part of her knew that it was nowhere to be found, but she craved it so wildly that her lungs hurt.

  She was drowning, and had been drowning forever. All she needed was to gulp one breath of fresh air, and another, and maybe she could win this battle. Her lungs were closing, weight heavy on them, and still she could not gasp. She wanted to scream in fury, b
ut the next breath was too precious to waste on a frivolous scream.

  “Layela,” she heard her name called out. Warmth exploded through her body and the weight lifted from her lungs, ever so slowly. Soon she could breathe fully again. It was stale air, but she didn’t care.

  She breathed slowly, not gulping air greedily as her body begged her to do. She counted her breaths until she reached ten, and then she felt strong enough to speak.

  “Bloody Yoma.” The words immediately reconnected her with her surroundings and made her feel better. She opened her eyes. Josmere was throwing a syringe away.

  “Your sister does indeed like to use efficient drugs,” the Berganda said casually. She locked eyes with Layela, only their light discoloration betraying her relief.

  “She was on the ship, Josmere. The bloody ship that blew up the Meltor.”

  Josmere nodded and drew a deep breath as she smiled. “Now we know why you stopped Avienne from firing on that ship.”

  Layela swallowed hard and slowly sat up, taking deep breaths as the world spun around her. Once the dizziness had passed, she spoke again. “It’s still two hundred innocent lives stolen, Josmere. And for what?”

  Josmere gave her a crooked smile. “For the chance for others to live. Isn’t that always the way?”

  Layela eyed her friend suspiciously. “Since when are you a philosopher?”

  Josmere gave a short laugh before a look of horror crossed her face. “Blood and bones. We’ve got company. Stay here, Layl,” the Berganda leapt to her feet, only to yelp and collapse against the wall.

  “You’re wounded!” Layela exclaimed. She made her way towards her, slowly at first, testing her recently drugged body’s willingness to move.

  “It’s not that bad,” Josmere said, sidestepping awkwardly. “I’m healing it, I just need some time. Take this, just in case.” She handed Layela one of the guns and holsters.

  “Josmere!” Layela clenched her teeth and fought down the anger that quickened her pulse.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” The Berganda exited the room, much faster than Layela would have thought possible with her wound.