The Heroes Return

by Monica Tesler

  “How?” Regis’s voice shakes.

  I slap his leg, trying to inject a dose of confidence that I don’t feel myself. “However you can. Fling their weapons away. You remember the pillow fight our first tour.”

  “That didn’t go my way,” Regis whispers.

  I look him in the eyes. “This time it will.”

  Regis nods.

  Denver looks up at the lid of the crate. “Let’s do this.”

  I close my eyes and tap into the energy of my gloves. The familiar current courses through me. Once I’ve aligned with the source, I point my fingertips at the crate’s lid. I take a deep breath, then force all my mental effort into blowing the top of the crate to the roof.

  The lid flies off, and fresh air rushes into the crate. The light is so bright after being shut in all day, I have to squint. And I have to move. Denver springs to a squat and starts firing. Regis and I both leap off the sides and take cover behind the crate. My muscles scream from being cramped in a crate all day, but I let the adrenaline surge through me, forcing my limbs to obey.

  “How many?” Regis shouts over the sound of weapons firing. He holds his palms out in front of him. I can almost see the energy radiating from his fingers.

  “I’ll check.” Peeking around the side of the crate, I count five Alks, none of them close enough to see if I know them from Alkalinia. There are also about a dozen other aliens in the bay, who I assume are the chirpers. They’re tall and skinny and have three sets of mini wings around their midriff. They don’t fly, exactly, but they leap in the air and flutter, making them hard for Denver to target.

  Luckily, only about half of the chirpers are armed, and most of them share tandem rifles.

  Denver quickly takes out four of them.

  The buzz of a laser nearly gives me a haircut. I duck back behind the crate. “Five Alks and about a dozen chirpers.”

  Regis nods and flutters his gloved fingers. “Now or never.”

  I steady my breath, and the world shifts into that slow-motion mode like when we placed the degradation patch on the Youli vessel or when I brought the shield down in Alkalinia.

  Every minute, every moment of every minute, means life or death right now.

  “On my count.” I raise a finger . . . one, two, three.

  I pivot out from behind the box and raise both hands. I whip my right palm at the closest group of chirpers and seize control of their atoms. With my left, I condense the air around me into a viscous bubble that hopefully will slow down incoming fire. I fling the chirpers against the far wall and fix my sights on the Alks.

  Two of them are firing at Denver, and three others hover near the door. I dash behind a stack of empty shipping containers and seize control of the flying throne of the nearest Alk. Focusing my intentions, I flip the seat, and the Alk tumbles to the ground and tries to slither out of range. I seize him by his cyborg arm and send him flying across the bay. On the other side of the hangar, Regis takes out two chirpers and their tandem rifle.

  “Behind you!” Denver shouts from the top of the crate.

  I swing around just in time to fend off another chirper duo.

  Denver trades shots with an Alk wielding a laser staff. “Help me out, kid!” he hollers, nodding at a pair of chirpers targeting him with their rifle.

  I grab the atoms of the chirper on the left and toss him to the edge of the bay. Then I fling the other one up in the air. He collides with the ceiling and crashes down. His long, skinny body bends in a bad way on the ground; his paper-thin wings flitter to a stop.

  “Yeah, kid!” Denver shouts. He dives into the crate as his Alk adversary lets loose a laser beam from his staff.

  Sparks ricochet off the crate and ding across the port, sending more chirpers for the door. Regis uses the distraction to dash across the bay and take cover behind a stack of empty crates. Now our offensive has the remaining Alks and chirpers pinned in.

  Regis freezes the Alk firing at Denver, leaving Denver free to take him out with the gun.

  “Nice trick!” I shout.

  That leaves a final group of chirpers and a single Alk left to immobilize. As he closes in, his features come into focus. It’s Steve, our guide from Alkalinia.

  The chirpers break for the door. Regis and I use the same strategy to freeze the chirpers, and Denver picks them off one by one with the gun.

  Until Steve is the only one left.

  Denver aims the gun.

  “Wait!” I raise my gloved hand at Denver. “He’s mine.”

  Steve’s back is to me as he races for the exit. I seize his throne and slowly rein it in. Then I spin him like a top until he’s facing me.

  Anger rises in my chest. My eyes swim with rage at the memory of Addy and Marco racing through the venom tube, Serena sliding in to help them, all of her abandoned babies rushing to greet her and ripping the tube in two.

  I pull Steve’s throne to the floor then throw it back in the air, launching Steve from his velvet cushion. Before he hits the ground, I grab his scaly Alk body and tear his cyborg arm clean off. He drops to the floor and wriggles for the door.

  I don’t even bother using my gloves. I run across the bay and step on Steve’s tail. Then I bend over my old Alk guide. “Hello, Sss-Steve. Tell Sss-Seelok I say hello.”

  He hisses at me, but his translator is nowhere in sight. “Grab a voice box from one of those chirpers!” I shout at Regis.

  When I have the box, I shove it under Steve’s scaly chin. “How did you know we’d be here?”

  Steve clicks and hisses. “Sss-silly boy, don’t you know what Alksss do? We deal in sss-secretsss. Nothing is off-limitsss at the right price-sss.”

  “Who sold us out?”

  “Molesss are everywhere, Jasss-per, even in the Resss-issstanssse.”

  Denver walks up behind me. “We need to go, kid.”

  “Someone squealed. We need answers.”

  “No time. They’ll be on us in seconds if we don’t move.” Denver grabs my arm.

  I shake free. “Not yet.” I lift my gloved hand and seize the atoms around Steve’s scrawny neck. He struggles to breathe, his hisses leaking from his throat in a weak stutter. All it would take is a bit more pressure. Just a little squeeze. He deserves it. If he’d had his way, I’d be dead. All the Bounders would be dead.

  “Let’s go!” Regis calls.

  Denver gently places his hand on my wrist and lowers my gloved hand to my side.

  “He could warn the others,” I say to Denver. Why shouldn’t we finish what we started? We already took out the chirpers and the other Alks.

  Denver stoops over Steve and brings the butt of the gun down hard on his head, knocking him out. “Not anymore.”

  I scan the bay and take stock. Part of me still wants Steve dead, but I know it’s not necessary. If I killed him now, I’d be no better than the Alks.

  Regis stands by a rear exit, waving his arms. “This way!”

  Denver and I jog across the bay and follow Regis into a dark hallway. We pick our way through the back halls, trying to avoid contact with anyone. Soon, though, the hall fills with chirpers flitting swiftly by, carrying dirty plates and glasses and paying absolutely zero attention to us.

  “What’s that smell?” I ask. “It’s like a mash-up of red licorice and dirty sneakers.”

  “Where did you come up with that?” Denver asks.

  Regis stops us. “We’re almost at the kitchens. Beyond them is the bar. That’s where we’ll meet our ride.”

  Denver nods and starts back down the hall.

  Regis grabs his arm. “Not so fast.” He points to the gun. “Hand it over.”

  Denver dangles the gun in Regis’s face. When Regis reaches for it, Denver laughs and shoves it in his waistband. “Not a chance. This gun is mine now.”

  “No way.” Regis balls his hands into fists.

  Denver keeps right on laughing. “What are you going to do, fight me for it?”

  “Forget it, Regis,” I say. “He saved our but
ts back there. I guess we all need to practice more trust.”

  Regis shakes his head. “Fine.” He flips the hood of his sweatshirt up, then pulls some hats out of the duffel and hands them to me and Denver. “You’re two of the most wanted guys in the galaxy. Put these on and keep a low profile. And put your gloves away, Jasper. We don’t want to raise any red flags.”

  As I slip off my gloves and zip them into my blast pack, I think about what Regis said. There are probably a few bounty hunters in that bar who could make a pretty penny bringing Denver and me back to Earth. Maybe Regis was right to ask for the gun back. With our gloves stowed, Denver is the only one of us who’s armed. There’s not much stopping him from marching us up to the head of the port and turning us in. I’m sure he could catch a ride back to Earth in no time.

  Hopefully our heart-to-heart in the crate counts for something.

  We follow Regis into the bar. It’s shaped in a circle with the bartenders in the center, counter seats surrounding them, and a ring of tables on the rim. The place throbs with a rapid bass beat and whistles with the sound of electronic music blaring a reed setting in a minor key.

  It’s packed. I’m trying to keep my head down and not attract attention, but I steal a few glances. The chirpers are working the tables. A tall dude who looks kind of like a twig with lots of arms is bartending. And there are dozens of species of aliens I’ve never seen before. Gedney wasn’t kidding when he described the intragalactic scene as vast.

  Fortunately, I don’t spot any Alks or Youli, but I’m pretty sure I spy a table of Tunnelers in the back. There are lots of humanoid-like aliens with different-colored skins and odd appendages, but there are also aliens I don’t even have words to describe and that I never would have imagined existed if I weren’t staring at them right now with my own two eyes. Like the giant slug-looking thing that’s driving around in a motorized cart, or the table filled with tiny creatures that look more like ants than any alien I’ve ever seen.

  Regis jerks his head toward a table in the corner. We follow him and slide into seats. Seconds later, one of the chirpers flits to our table. She has silver chains wrapped around her body, with coins jangling from hooks. Her wings are dyed purple and pierced with multicolored crystals.

  She chirps at us, then presses a button on her translator. A husky woman’s voice booms out, “What’ll it be, boys?”

  Denver laughs. “Who programmed that voice box?”

  “Low profile,” Regis mutters under his breath. Then he smiles at the chirper. “Three sour ticklers.”

  “Coming right up, honey.” She reaches into her apron and pulls out a handful of small foil packages. “Enjoy your nuts.”

  I peel back the foil and out roll a bunch of black rocks. I’m about to pick one up when it jumps on the table. I jerk back. “What are those?”

  Regis pops all of his in his mouth at once. “Hoppers. They’re imported from one of the nearby planets. They taste kind of like soy nuggets.”

  Denver smells one of the hoppers, then bites it in half. “They’re not bad.”

  “Not bad” is not good enough for me to even try. I push the foil-wrapped nuts over to Regis. “Have mine.”

  My stomach grumbles. I dig in my bag and pull out a protein bar.

  “Not in here!” Regis says. “It’s rude!”

  “Since when do you care about being rude?”

  Denver swipes my bar and shoves it in the duffel. “If you’re hungry, eat your hoppers, kid.”

  I’m about to protest when the chirper arrives with our drinks—they’re blue and frothy and releasing teal steam into the air.

  A long, curly straw sticks out of the glass. I take a tiny sip. My lips pucker. It tastes like jelly beans and sour peach candy mixed together. So, in other words, I love it.

  Denver tries his drink and makes a face. I guess I’m not the only picky one. “What are we supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for our ride to show up?”

  “Don’t worry,” Regis says, scanning the bar. “She’ll show. She’s probably just waiting until it’s safe. I’m sure security has found our trail of carnage by now.”

  “Speaking of that,” I say, “what if they figure out that we were behind that? We’re basically sitting ducks right here.”

  “Which is why we need to keep a low profile,” Regis says.

  As soon as the words “low profile” leave his mouth, a fit of barking erupts at my back.

  I spin around just as a voice box starts to spit out a long stream of words.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh! I was so very worried! Especially when I heard the rumors. And oh! Oh! Oh! They’re true! They’re true! Jasper Adams! I didn’t know if I would ever see you again! But oh! You’re here! Give me a hug!”

  Neeka throws her furry Tunneler arms around my neck before the voice box finishes translating.

  25

  “NEEKA! I HAD NO IDEA you were going to be here!” I free myself from her furry arms but keep hold of her paw. My Tunneler friend is wearing an emerald-green tunic that makes the green of her eyes shine. Gone are the days of the burlap sack—standard Tunneler attire under Earth Force control.

  “Neither did I,” Regis says.

  Neeka growls. “Oh! Shut up! You know I didn’t come here for you.”

  Denver leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “Your little reunion is quite possibly the furthest thing from low profile.” Nodding at Neeka, he adds, “Isn’t someone going to introduce us?”

  “Oh! Captain Reddy!” Neeka says through the voice box. She drops my hand and offers her paw to Denver, who shakes it a little awkwardly. “I do apologize. I am so very sorry! Oh! I was ever so rude! I told myself before I got here that the very first thing I—”

  “Hey!” Denver holds up his hands. “Stop talking for a minute! Start off by telling me who you are.”

  “Oh! Oh! You are oh so right! Where are my manners? Oh!”

  Denver looks at me. “On second thought, kid, you tell me who your friend is.”

  “Denver, meet Neeka.” I put my arm across her shoulders. She wraps herself around me and squeezes. “She was our pod’s junior ambassador on Gulaga, and she’s awesome.”

  Neeka smiles up at me. “Your sister can’t wait to see you.”

  “You’ve met Addy?”

  She nods.

  A swell of emotion rises in my chest, making me feel light-headed and heavy on my feet at the same time. I’m going to see Addy. I’m here with Neeka. Yes, there’s a war. And yes, we’ll try to push for peace. But it’s also about family and friends, the things that matter most in life.

  “We should go,” Regis says quietly.

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Neeka barks back.

  “He’s right,” I say to her. “We had a run-in with some old friends back in the cargo hold.”

  “Friends?” Neeka asks.

  “Kidding,” I say. “They were Alks, and they had a heads-up we were coming.”

  “Someone’s going to want to know who left the mess,” Denver says.

  “Plus,” I say, grinning at Neeka, “I can’t wait to see Addy.”

  We follow Neeka out of the bar and back through the rear hallways until we reach a hangar crowded with small ships. Pilots and crew hang about chatting, cleaning their crafts, loading cargo. Neeka leads us across the hangar, greeting almost everyone we pass. She stops in front of the most banged-up, piece-of-junk ship in the hangar.

  “Oh! Here’s my baby,” she says, patting the ship with her paw.

  “This thing flies?” Denver asks.

  “Barely,” Regis grumbles.

  Neeka swats him. “Oh! Excuse me? This beauty is a ruby in the rough. Isn’t that how your cliché goes?”

  “Diamond, but who’s listening to me?” Regis says.

  “No one, as usual.” She places her paw on the lock sensor, and the loading bridge drops down. “All aboard! Oh! I can’t wait to fly you to Gulaga, Jasper! It’s where you belong!”

  We climb ont
o Neeka’s ship, which looks just as bad inside as out. Once we strap in, she flips a bunch of switches, backs us up, and steers us out of the hangar into open space. While we fly, Denver peppers her with questions about the Resistance. From the way Neeka’s talking, it’s clear she’s a pretty high-ranking rebel. After her dad died during the battle with the Youli, she sought out Barrick and volunteered for the Resistance, and she’s taken every chance she can to prove herself and rise in the ranks.

  “Commander Krag was your father?” Denver asks. Apparently, he met Krag when he came with Admiral Eames and the other Earth Force officers to hammer out the Earth-Tunneler treaty. “I remember him. He was a fierce and loyal advocate for his people, even when we were much younger. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Neeka says. “Even though it’s been a year and a half since my dad died, the wound feels fresh. Sometimes I can almost hear him whispering to me.” She doesn’t ask Denver any questions about his time in Gulaga twenty years ago. She must have already known he was there and accepts that we need to move forward. Plus, the fact that Denver’s voice sounded heavy with guilt probably helps.

  “I’m sure your dad would be very proud of you, Neeka,” I say.

  “Definitely,” Regis says.

  Neeka snaps at him. “Oh! Don’t you dare try to ingratiate yourself with me, Regis!”

  “You don’t want me to kiss your furry butt?”

  She hops up barking. “Out! Get out of my sight! Go strap in by the engine and stay there until we land!”

  “Gladly,” Regis says. He undoes his harness and disappears to the back of the craft.

  “What’s your deal with him?” I ask once he’s gone.

  “Oh! What is my deal?” Neeka barks, her temper still sizzling. “What is your deal? How could you forgive him for all the evils he caused? Do you not remember what happened on Gulaga? He almost killed you and Mira more than once!”

  “That explains a lot,” Denver says.

  “I definitely wouldn’t say I’ve forgiven him. It’s complicated.”

  Neeka doesn’t respond. She checks some of the gauges on the ship and prepares for the shift to FTL. Once that’s done, she asks in a much calmer voice, “How is Mira?”