Haven 6 (33 page)

“Oh Eri, how can I help?”

Eri’s thoughts flitted a kilometer a minute, and she had to calm them down to form coherent sentences. “First of all, I’ll need a toothbrush and a small makeup mirror.”

Aquaria rolled her eyes. “That’s easy. What’s the hard part?”

Eri breathed deeply. If Aquaria didn’t agree with her, she may have to fight her own sister. “I’m going to talk to the commander. If she doesn’t bend…” Eri touched her laser. “I’ll take over command of the ship myself.” She paused, gauging her sister’s reaction.

Aquaria looked as though she’d swallowed a large, bitter pill. Then she breathed deeply, nodding her head and glancing at the daisies before her gaze returned to Eri. “I’m going with you.”

Blinding light.

Weightlessness.

Profound, all-encompassing peace.

Weaver’s eyelids fluttered open. The river coursed beside him, water cresting around the rocks, spitting puddles of white foam. The rapids used to grip him with fear, but today he calmly teetering over the banks. The spray had lost its icy touch, and the rocks were solid and level under his feet. The sunlight cast everything in a haze, and the world seemed muted, as if it were finally at peace.

A fishing rod lay on the rock beside him, the dark lumber contrasting with the gray stone. Weaver bent down and ran his fingers over the smoothed wood. A silver grubber dangled at the end on a hook, thousands of legs wiggling in the air. Recognition hit him like a splash in the face.
This is my rod; the one I’d lost that day when I tumbled into the freezing water.

Holding the lost rod in his hands gave him a sense of completion, like he’d found the one item that had been missing his whole life.
Silly, it’s just a branch with a grubber at the end.

A trotter leaped from the rapids, gleaming silver-pink in the sunlight before plunging to the pool below. Today was a good day for fishing. The slight angle of the sun and the chill on his arms assured him trotter season was in full swing. The waters were probably littered with throngs of fat specimens as they swam toward the breeding grounds in the lower plateau south of his village.

But he never went fishing alone. Where was Striver? A current of unease shot through his gut. He’d been involved in something before this. Something important. Striver had been there.

A high-pitched whistle echoed from upstream, distracting him. The call of a swillow wisp, sweeter than any sound he’d ever heard. Thinking about roasted wing made his stomach gurgle. Maybe he’d set a trap instead of fishing. Clutching the rod, Weaver jumped from rock to rock upstream.

The swillow wisp gazed at him with a skeptical black eye and launched into the canopy.

Where there’s one, there’s more.
Weaver scanned the banks for swamp reeds to tie into a trap. The rocks he stood on were bare, but a thicket of reeds sprouted farther upstream. Weaver leapt distances he’d never broached in the past. His legs stretched longer, and he landed with ease. Wiping his dry forehead, he glanced at his shirt. No sweat. A trek upriver like that would have surely, in the least, quickened his heart. But today the muscle beat steady and calm. He bent down to pull the tough casings from the reeds and they slipped off effortlessly in his fingers.

It felt good to be doing something he was familiar with, unlike whatever or wherever he’d just come from. He thought he’d smelled fire and ash only a moment ago, but the sweet lily pad blossoms overpowered any scent from his memories. Had there been a fire?

Low humming rode the wind. Weaver mouthed the words to the tune.

Gentle, silent breeze

Lift me up

Where stars twinkle in the night.

Where no walls divide

Or laws abide

Where no one needs to hide.

Gentle, silent breeze

Lift me up

Where my heart reigns free

Only then will I see

How to live in harmony

And be who I’m meant to be.

The song eased the worries prowling in the back of his mind. The humming grew fainter and Weaver shot up, dropping the reeds on the rocks below.

He followed the tune farther upstream to the foothills of the mountains. The trees grew dense, and the river widened until he knew he couldn’t swim to the opposite bank. What did it matter? The wall was on the other side.
No one wants to go behind the wall, do they?

A silhouette stood farther up the riverbank, a tall man casting a lure with a fishing rod of his own. Weaver ran, and the warm wind pushed him along. The man turned and blinked as if he wasn’t expecting to see another soul on that bank with him. Weaver froze, paralyzed by disbelief and hope.

“Father?”

The man stepped toward Weaver, placed his rod in a crevice between the rocks, and rubbed his thumb over the stubble on his son’s cheek. Searching Weaver’s features as if he didn’t recognize him, his father whispered, “You’ve grown so much.”

All these years, and his father stood not a minute older than the day he disappeared, with no apparent injuries to hold him back. Weaver felt betrayed. “Where have you been?”

“Wandering.” He spread his hands over the river expanse.

Wandering? What kind of an answer is that?
Weaver’s jaw tightened in anger. “While you’ve been fishing, Striver and I had to grow up on our own. Mom got sick, and you weren’t there.”

His father narrowed his eyes, like Weaver spoke in riddles. “I’ve only just set out a while back.”

“A while back? You mean ten years back.” Weaver felt a mixture of wanting to put his arms around the man and hug him and wanting to shake some sense into him.

“Funny you speak of years, Weave.” Dad spread his hands out before him. “I’m not a day older than when I left.”

Weaver’s shoulders tingled as he realized what should have been apparent from the start. “You’re right.”

His father put a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, catch your breath. It looks as though you’ve been running from something.” Golden swirls danced in his father’s gaze.

The scene of the battle rushed back to him. Jolt had hit him with his gun. The golden light had gushed around him, entering his head and his soul until he couldn’t block it out, until the golden mist became part of him and he vanished into its stream. He was in the place of nontime, the other dimension Eri had talked about. But this wasn’t a memory.

Weaver had never met his father like this on the upper banks of the river. They always came together, fished together, and left for home. Besides, his father would only notice his aged appearance if…if he was the real deal.

“You’re really here, aren’t you?”

“It’s good to see you, son.”

Striver had been right. He’d argued with his brother over their father’s disappearance all their lives. Weaver thought their dad had grown restless and joined the Lawless, while Striver remained adamant he’d never leave them if he could help it.

Was he stuck here forever? There was so much left unfinished, so much he’d wanted to do.

“Take me back!” he shouted to the placid, uncaring sky. “I wasn’t finished yet.”

The rush of the rapids was the only muted voice answering his pleas. Weaver kicked a rock, and it skipped across the clear waters. He ran his fingers through his hair, tears rolling down his cheeks. His life had been so short and so full of hate. All those moments he’d lost when he could have enjoyed himself and those around him. What an utter waste.

I wish I had a chance to talk to Striver one last time, to tell him I’m sorry.

Would Eri do it for him? He trusted her. If she succeeded, she’d tell the whole village about how he sacrificed himself to get her to the ship. Weaver closed his eyes, hoping she made it, hoping he’d helped someone for once in his life.

His eyelids fluttered open, and his father still stood before him with both eyebrows raised in expectation. Weaver had always wanted to live free of Striver’s shadow. He’d fought for his father’s unending attention. Now he had it. For the first time in his life, Weaver released the pain and hate stored up in his heart. There was no place for it here, and he didn’t want to waste any more of his time on self-destructive thoughts. He had one more chance to make the most of it.

Weaver put his arm around his father. “Let’s see how many trotters we can catch.”

Eri’s heart sped as she directed Aquaria through the restricted corridors leading to the commander’s control deck. She’d only been once before, when the commander had asked her to join the exploratory team. Back then, she’d been a timid, inexperienced follower, lacking confidence. Now, she stormed the corridors as a battle veteran, ready to take over the ship.

They reached the end of the hall undetected. They paused, catching their breaths. Eri extended a mirror glued to a toothbrush to peek around the corner.

“Ten guards, all with gallium crystal void rays.”

Aquaria turned the ring on her finger over and over. “You’d think the commander would order them out to the battlefield to help the others.”

“Guess she’s not taking any chances with her own safety.” Eri shook her head. They could have used those void rays on Jolt. Maybe then, Weaver would still be alive.

Aquaria’s third finger was turning red. “It’s going to be hard to convince them all to leave.”

Eri put her hand over her sister’s before she twisted her finger off. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Aquaria nodded. “I’m just thinking out loud. That’s all.”

“If this fails, we’ll both be branded as rebels.”

“I’d rather be in a category with you and Litus, and save those poor people, than live on this ship in an exclusive society.”

“Okay.” Eri pocketed the toothbrush and stepped into the doorframe of a storage unit, pressing her back against the wall to hide. “Do your stuff.”

“One more thing.” Aquaria squeezed her hand. Resolution shone fiercely in her oceanic eyes. “Do what’s necessary to keep all those people, including Litus, safe. Okay?”

Eri nodded, reassuring herself this act of treason, something she’d never thought of doing in all her life on the
Heritage
, was warranted. She fought for Striver and his village, and their right to exist. Failure was not an option.

Aquaria took a deep breath and let out a spine-tingling scream. She winked at Eri before scrambling around the corner. Eri scrunched up against the doorframe, waiting for her cue.

“Please, you have to come help. All of you.” Aquaria’s voice shook.

“What’s the problem, miss?” a deep baritone voice rumbled.

“I’m Mrs. Muller.” Aquaria knew how to use her connections to their advantage. Litus’s wife would have more credibility than any unknown colonist.

“Oh, Mrs. Muller. I didn’t recognize—”

“It doesn’t matter. Some of the natives snuck on the ship. They’re heading to the reactor core.” Aquaria sounded so authentic, Eri almost believed her for a second. All those times they played pretend as kids must have improved her plausibility.

The sound of thumping feet and buzzing guns echoed down the corridor. “How many did you see?”

Eri bit her nails while Aquaria paused.

“Ten, maybe twenty.”

Good thinking, Aquaria. That will mean the whole brigade has to go.

“Hurry!”

“We’re on it, Mrs. Muller. Show us where you saw them.”

“Come with me.”

That was Eri’s cue. She waited until the foot traffic faded before extending the toothbrush mirror again. Two men had stayed behind to guard the control room entrance.

Cyberhell!

Now it was up to her. Eri switched her laser gun to stun. After witnessing Weaver’s horrible demise on her account, she didn’t want any more deaths on her head. These guards were just following orders.

Taking a deep breath, she thought about her next move. She only had seconds to shoot, and both shots had to be accurate, or they’d return fire. Checking their positions one more time in the mirror, she took a few deep breaths.
You can do this.

Aquaria could only keep the guards busy for so long. Eri tightened her grip on her laser.
Now or never.

She leaned around the corner and zapped the guard on the left before he knew what hit him. He fell back against the wall and slumped. What she didn’t count on was the time it took her laser gun to recharge. She pulled the trigger as the high-pitched buzz grew louder, but nothing happened. The guard on the right raised his void ray.

She ducked back around the corner as a laser blackened the opposite wall.
His gun is definitely not on stun.

It took all of her courage to throw herself back out there, aim at his midsection, and shoot again. This time the trigger worked. But this guard moved quickly. He ducked and rolled toward her, and her shot hit the wall behind him. She ducked back around the corner.

Damn!

Eri held her breath and listened. She’d grown used to the chirps of jungle birds and the rustling of leaves, so the silent stillness made her uneasy. The guard breathed heavily. Plastic creaked, and clothes rustled. He was closer this time, and both of their guns had recharged. It was going to be a shoot-out, just like in those westerns from Old Earth she’d studied for linguistics jargon. Only she didn’t think she had the faster trigger finger.

Yes, but my laser gun is smaller. The trigger is faster. Maybe that’s enough.

It had to be, or that void ray would turn her into burned toast, the commander would order the attack on Striver’s village, and they would all die.
No pressure.

Each second felt like torture, her heart beating wildly, her throat constricting until she fought for breath, her sweaty hands gripping the laser. At least it would be over soon.

Eri turned, shot in the direction of the heavy breathing, and dove. She didn’t stop to see what happened, scrambling across the open space for the other corner. She hit the chrome floor and rolled. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for searing pain, but none came.