Starflight (33 page)

“It wasn’t her fault,” Kane said. “Two of the ruling families have been at each other’s throats for ages. The war is way overdue.”

“But my marriage was supposed to stop it,” Cassia muttered, her gaze fixed on the floor. “My parents called a meeting with the enemy house. They agreed to join our families by promising me to a prince named Marius.” Her upper lip hitched. “I wanted nothing to do with him. I threw a dozen fits, but my parents wouldn’t budge. They said I was being selfish—that it was my duty to bring an end to all the fighting. We argued about it for months. At one point, we quit talking. Then the week before the wedding, my parents hosted a banquet for Marius, and I overheard him telling one of his men that he didn’t want anything to do with me, either. And his family’s goal wasn’t peace. He was supposed to marry me, then kill my father so he’d rule both kingdoms.”

“Not to mention,” Kane added, “scoop out Cassy’s melon and turn her into a puppet.”

Cassia nodded. “His family invented the same technology the Daeva use to block their prefrontal cortex. They had it all figured out—the perfect takeover. But when I told my father, he didn’t believe me. I guess after all the tantrums, he thought I was pulling another stunt to delay the wedding.” Her eyes met Kane’s, and she gave him a weary smile. “So I went to my best friend and asked for help. He dropped everything and followed me out the door, even though his clerk’s apprenticeship was almost finished.”

Kane squeezed her hand. “Palace life was overrated anyway.”

“A few weeks later, we met the captain,” she said. “We were begging for work at every port, and he was the only one to take us—”

“Wait a minute,” Doran said, rubbing his temples. “This is all very touching, but what does any of it have to do with selling me out to the Enforcers?”

“I panicked and I made a mistake,” Cassia told him. “I thought you’d be easy to break, or you’d lead the Daeva to us.” She splayed both hands in an unspoken apology, but it didn’t escape Doran’s notice that she hadn’t bothered to say she was sorry. “I was wrong. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for.”

“Here’s a news flash, Your Highness,” Doran snapped, his anger building again. “You’re more of a threat to this crew than I ever was. If you wanted someone thrown off the ship, you should’ve started with yourself.”

“Hey, back off,” Kane warned. “She said she was wrong. There’s no harm done.”

“No harm done?” Doran repeated with a glare at Kane. “Do you really believe the words coming out of your mouth, or are you just desperate to score with your princess?”

Kane puffed up like a bear and took two threatening steps forward. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“You hypocrite,” Doran spat. “And I’ll say whatever the hell I want!”

Renny wedged himself between them and shoved in opposite directions. “Knock it off, both of you,” he said. “This has gone far enough. Either shake hands so we can discuss this like adults, or I’m putting you on lockdown.”

Doran narrowed his eyes. He wanted to give Kane a good shake, but by way of his throat, not his hand.

“Fine, then,” Renny said. “Back to your quarters. You first, Kane.” When all that moved was Kane’s flaring nostrils, Renny barked, “That’s an order!” Once Kane had charged away and slammed his door, Renny nodded at Doran and told him to do the same. “And don’t come out,” Renny called, “until you’re both ready to make nice.”

It wasn’t until six hours later that hunger forced them out of their rooms for a stiff handshake and a round of meaningless apologies. As far as Doran was concerned, he would coexist with Cassia and Kane, but their friendship was over.

Dinner that night was more awkward than a hug from death.

Nobody made eye contact, and the only sounds were the scrapes of utensils against plates. Even Acorn seemed to sense the tension. She hid inside the captain’s pocket throughout supper, occasionally reaching out a paw for a new raisin.

Halfway through the meal, the captain cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said to no one in particular. “Everyone panics and makes stupid choices, even me. I’m still wanted on Earth for desertion in the last war.” He glanced at Doran and asked, “Did I ever tell you that?”

Reluctantly, Doran shook his head. He could tell a lecture was coming, and he was in no mood to hear it.

“I was about your age,” the captain said. “It was the night before my first battle, and I was piss-scared. Got up from my bunk and told the sergeant I had to use the latrine, then ran away without bothering to put on my pants.” He grunted to himself. “Let me tell you, there’s not much worse than turning tail in your underwear.”

Doran poked at his dinner and tried to imagine the stone-cold captain running away from a fight. He couldn’t picture it.

“I couldn’t go home and face my father,” Rossi continued. “So I joined a crew and ended up out here. Never saw my folks after that, but I swore I’d never shame them again. And I’m proud to say I kept my word.” He fed Acorn another raisin and said, “We’re all allowed a moment or two of weakness. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“True,” Doran agreed, and shut down the sermon with his next words. “But some mistakes are bigger than others.”

After that, Renny wisely changed the subject. “Whose turn is it tonight?”

The captain jerked his spoon toward Kane.

“Do you have a question ready?” Renny asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Kane said out of the corner of his mouth. He took a swig of water and set down his cup, pausing until Doran looked at him. There was still plenty of resentment in Kane’s eyes. “Would you rather ruin the lives of two innocent strangers,” he asked, “or watch someone you love die a violent death?”

The subtext behind that question was about as subtle as a pipe bomb. Doran brought his mug to his lips and tipped it back, refusing to be the first person to answer. When the rest of the crew chimed in, everyone gave the same response. If given the hypothetical choice, they wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice innocent lives to protect the one they loved. The captain went a step further, reminding them of the settlers on New Haven and how he’d placed the safety of his crew above that of an entire village.

All eyes landed on Doran for his answer. He felt Solara squeeze his hand under the table, and when she peered up at him with that dimpled grin, he was forced to admit to himself that he would have done the same thing in Cassia’s and Kane’s position. That didn’t mean he trusted them, and it didn’t mean he was ready to forgive. But he gave a begrudging nod along with his answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Kane said, and returned his attention to his bowl. “You’re no different from us.”

M
uch as Doran had expected, Planet X was a frozen wasteland.

Its distant sun, visible as a pinprick of warmth on the horizon, cast a slanted glow over the landscape that seemed to create more shadow than light. The contrast allowed him to see that its hills were made from belts of ice stacked into tiny steps. Everywhere else, the terrain was relatively flat, dented with shallow pockmarks that reminded him of a scarred face. If any useful or dangerous ore existed down there, he’d need an industrial drill to find it.

What did his father expect him to do at these coordinates?

As Doran stood in the pilothouse and scanned the desolate panorama, it became clear there were no signs of life down there—plant or animal. And yet the
Banshee
’s sensors detected enough electrical current to power a town. Something was lying to him, either the equipment or his eyes.

“When was the last time you had your sensors checked?” he asked the captain.

“There’s nothing wrong with my equipment,” Rossi said, stroking his beard and staring out the windshield with a frown. “If we’re picking up a charge, there’s machinery running.”

“Maybe it’s cloaked,” Doran said. “Or buried underground.”

They ran a scan for metals and detected a disk embedded in the ice near the heart of the power source. From the computer’s preliminary sketch, it appeared to be an air-lock hatch, which supported his theory that something was operating beneath the planet’s surface.

“Whatever’s down there must be huge,” the captain mused. “It’s using a ton of juice.”

“Try to land by the hatch,” Doran said. “I’m going to suit up and see if I can get inside.”

“Take Renny and Kane with you,” the captain told him. “Armed, just in case.”

Doran hesitated. He didn’t want Kane anywhere near him. “I can manage without—”

“Renny
and
Kane,” the captain repeated. “That’s not up for debate.”

Doran knew better than to argue.

He made his way to the cargo level, and by the time the
Banshee
alighted on the planet’s surface, the three of them were securing oxygen helmets to their pressurized suits.

To test out the suit’s com-link, Doran glanced at Renny and warned, “I don’t know what’s down there, but I think Infinium might be a weapon. And if I’m right, whoever’s building it won’t appreciate a visit.”

“Not a problem,” Renny said. “We’ve got your back.”

Kane froze for a second while pulling on his gloves. His lips tightened beneath the fiberglass helmet, but he nodded in agreement. Renny handed them each a pistol, and after strapping the weapons to their hips, they exited the ship.

The insulated suits didn’t do much to keep out the chill, and even with weights at their ankles, their boots slipped and skidded over the icy ground as they fought their way toward the hatch. A fierce wind howled across the stark landscape, fighting their every move and creating a creepy whistle when mixed with the steady release of oxygen inside Doran’s helmet. By the time they reached the hatch, his skin was covered in goose bumps, more from the eerie surroundings than the temperature.

They couldn’t find an automatic switch, so Doran grabbed the manual lever and tugged it aside while Kane hauled open the thick metal door. One by one, they descended the ladder leading to the air-lock chamber. Doran was about to close the hatch when a new helmet appeared out of nowhere, and he flinched, nearly losing his grip on the steel rung.

It was Solara.

“There’s no way I’m missing this,” she said through the com-link.

Doran exhaled in relief. She’d promised to stay behind until they knew it was safe, but secretly he was glad to have her here. “Fine, but hurry. That wind is killing me.”

After she descended the ladder and closed the hatch, they flipped on the oxygen switch and listened to the low hum of heated air filling the chamber. A green light flashed to indicate optimal pressure and oxygen saturation, and a door in the chamber wall clicked ajar. Doran removed his helmet and hooked it to the utility belt on his hip, then pulled open the door and peeked through to the other side.

“It looks like a bunker,” he said, taking in the concrete walls and floors of the dimly lit hallway. It led to a corner about ten yards ahead, then continued to the right. He noticed the slightly stale scent of recycled air, but nothing out of the ordinary. No reek of decay or musty odor of neglect. But despite that, his instincts told him this place was no oasis.

“I don’t see anyone.” He cocked one ear and added, “Or hear anything.”

A computerized voice called out from the chamber ceiling, making everyone jump in shock. “Interior air-lock port closing in ten seconds,” it said, and began counting backward.

Doran shared a nervous glance with the others. Because it seemed they had no choice but to continue or turn back, they made their way inside the corridor and removed their helmets as the air-lock door sealed behind them. In tentative steps, Doran led the way into the bunker. As soon as he rounded the corner, motion sensors activated a strip of overhead lights, causing him to shield his eyes from the brightness.

Solara squinted while hooking her helmet to her belt. “These sensors might report to a centralized system,” she warned. “We should be prepared for company.”

“Draw your weapons,” Renny told them. “But set the safety latch.”

Having never used a pistol before, Doran had to watch Kane to learn what to do. He removed his gloves and used a thumb to flick a switch near the trigger, then fisted the weapon and continued down the empty hallway.