Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set
Author: F. T. Lukens
Date: 2020-07-07 00:00:00+00:00
Description: Ren grew up listening to his mother's stories about Star Hosts—mythical people possessed by the power of the stars. In a twist of fate, Ren learns his destiny is closely tied to his mother's tales. He befriends a soldier named Asher, who helps him master his growing power, and together they comb the galaxy in search of Ren's missing brother. But with allegiances uncertain, Ren must make decisions to protect the ones he loves from a brewing galactic war. From the award-winning author of "The Rules and Regulations for Mediating Myths & Magic," the Broken Moon series is a space opera roller coast
Publisher: Chicago Review Press, Incorporated
Rights: 2020 F.T. Lukens

Copyright © 2020 F.T. Lukens

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 13: 978-1-945053-74-0 (ebook)

Published by Duet, an imprint of Interlude Press
http://duetbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All trademarks and registered trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

Book design and Cover illustrations by CB Messer

Character designs by Melinda Timpone

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Interlude Press, New York

PRAISE FOR

THE BROKEN MOON SERIES

F.T. LUKENS

“Lukens writes a satisfying balance of action and romance in a science fiction setting that will feel familiar to fans of the genre… Add this title to young adult sci-fi collections, and expect readers to eagerly anticipate the next book in the series.”

—School Library Journal on The Star Host

“The Star Host by F.T. Lukens hooked me from the blurb. It still hasn’t let me go, and I finished reading it hours ago. I want more… like right, the heck now. I need more Asher and Ren in my life. You need more Asher and Ren in your lives.”

—Prism Book Alliance on The Star Host

“The short version is that this book is amazing, and I am hard-pressed to be more coherent than ASKLJFDAH and OMGFLAIL.”

—D.E Atwood, author of If We Shadows on The Star Host

“Fans of queer sci-fi adventure, this is the series for you. Start at The Star Host and plow right on through Ghosts & Ashes in one go. Told in Lukens’ no-nonsense prose, this story will draw you in and not let go.”

—Teen Vogue on Ghosts & Ashes

“This is a rollicking adventure that blends elements from westerns, sci-fi, YA, and romance into a cohesive page-flipping thrill ride.”

—Foreword Reviews on Ghosts & Ashes

Contents

Book One: The Star Host

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

Book Two: Ghosts & Ashes

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

Book Three: Zenith Dream

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Epilogue

About the Author

Broken Moon Extras

Darby

Character Design: Ren

Character Design: Asher

Book One: The Star Host

This book is dedicated to The College of William and Mary Science Fiction and Fantasy Club – affectionately known as Skiffy, and to these members specifically: Angela, Tom, Corey, Seanie, Sean, Karyl, Craig, Liza, Chris S., & Skittles “Mike.”

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

—“The Old Astronomer” by Sarah Williams

1

Ren sprinted.

Chest heaving with laughter, he ran toward the lake. He shucked off his homespun shirt and dropped it on the beach. He hopped, pulling off his boots one at a time and kicking white sand everywhere. His younger brother emerged from the forest a few paces behind him. Liam’s legs were not as long as Ren’s, and he stumbled onto the beach, red-faced and sweating.

“No fair,” Liam panted. “You always beat me.”

Down to his trousers, his clothing thrown into a haphazard pile, Ren glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I’m older. It’s my right.”

Liam huffed as he wriggled out of his shirt. “I hope you burn.”

“Sore loser,” Ren said. He waded into the lake; the cool water lapped at his calves. “Are you coming?”

Liam didn’t answer, but the large splash that soaked Ren was answer enough. Water spilled over Ren’s dark hair, and he laughed. Wiping the droplets off his face, Ren dove under the low, rolling waves.

Spring had finally arrived at their village on the planet Erden. The sun, the brightest star in the cluster, burned above them. It warmed the soil and melted the snow and ice from the distant mountains. In the late afternoon, the shadows of the forest grew longer, casting dark blobs on the small beach. Twilight would arrive soon, as the sky was already darkening toward sunset.

Ren and Liam bobbed in the lake; the water was too cool for them to swim for long. After splashing a few minutes, Ren paddled to the shore. He plopped onto the sand, spread out his limbs and basked in the fading sunlight, allowing the last few rays to dry his hair and skin.

“Done already?” Liam called.

“It’s cold.”

“Stick-in-the-mud.”

Ren chuckled and folded his arms behind his head. He squinted up into the deepening blue and spotted the broken moon of Erden hanging low, emerging slowly among the wispy clouds. Liam dropped beside him and shook his head, spraying Ren with icy droplets.

“Ugh. Stop it,” Ren said, pushing Liam on the shoulder. “Go shake like a dog over there.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Ren dropped his hand to the sand. “Do what?”

“Look at the stuff in the sky. You’re never getting up there, you know.”

Ren frowned. “I might.”

“Not likely,” Liam answered. He lay down next to Ren so their shoulders touched.

Ren was older than Liam by two years. They shared a mother, but not a father. Ren’s father was a member of a Phoenix Corps regiment that had passed through their village eighteen years ago. Ren never knew him. And while Liam took after their mother—short, stocky and fair—Ren was his father’s child, tall and gangly with dark hair and dark eyes.

“You’re so sure of that, are you? One day, I’m going to be on one of those ships and find work on a drift.”

“Doing what? Harvesting their nonexistent fields? You can wish on the stars all you want, Ren, but you were born a duster. Dusters don’t leave their planets.”

Ren sighed. His brother was too pragmatic for his age, too stuck in the way things were always done. Ren could dream. He always did, of a place among the stars.

“We’re not meant to be planet-bound. We’re part of them, you know.”

“You’re not seriously quoting the bedtime story Mom always told us.”

Ren elbowed Liam in the ribs and earned a grunt. “It’s not a story. It’s a legend.”

“It’s fiction.”

“Legends have truth in them.”

Liam sat up, brushed away the sand clinging to his arms. “You honestly believe we’re made of stardust?”

“It’s better than believing we’re made of dirt.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “And do you believe in men so powerful they broke the sky? And in women who can tell the future? And humans who became machines? And meteorites that can grant wishes?”

“Well,” Ren said with a lazy grin, “I know the last one isn’t true.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wishing you’d shut up since you were born, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

Liam barked out a laugh. He grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it in Ren’s hair. Ren grasped his wrist and pulled him down. They wrestled, breathless and laughing, toppling over each other in the sand. Liam pinned Ren by his shoulders, punched him hard in the arm once and then toppled to the side.

“If you go,” Liam said, after a few moments of companionable silence, “you’ll have to come home to visit. Mom will miss you like crazy.”

Ren smiled and rubbed the blossoming bruise on his arm, knowing Liam wasn’t only talking about their mother. “Of course. I’d miss Mom too. And you, despite your tendency to be a brat.”

Liam smirked. “Speaking of that, we should get back,” he said, sitting up. “Mom and Dad will be looking for us.” Liam stood, gathered his clothes and slipped his shirt over his freckled shoulders.

“I’ll follow in a while,” Ren said.

“Suit yourself.”

Ren closed his eyes and listened to the rustle of fabric as Liam dressed. He heard the cracks of twigs and the crunch of leaves as Liam left the beach and walked back into the forest toward their home on the edge of the village.

Relaxing in the sand as its warmth leeched away with the slowly setting sun, Ren slipped in and out of a doze, fantasizing about escaping his dull life in the village. Every morning he woke and dressed and completed chores. At seventeen, Ren was too old for school, but too young to apprentice anywhere near the space docks, according to his mother. He was stuck weeding the garden or herding sheep or doing whatever his stepfather told him to do. Sometimes, Ren fixed gadgets, since he possessed a natural affinity for tech, but though those days were his favorites, they were few and far between. Their village had very little in the way of tech, since it usually cost more than it helped. And most of it was funneled from the space dock merchants to the Baron anyway.

In the quiet moments, Ren could close his eyes and picture a life beyond the borders of their little community: gleaming metal and flashing lights and artificial gravity and colorful people—a life of adventure and purpose. If only he could reach out and touch…

The ground suddenly rumbled beneath him, and the waves of the lake increased to a frenzy, slapping against the shore. Ren frowned, opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. It wasn’t unheard of for their planet to shake from time to time, but when he heard the low hum of engines, he scrambled to his feet.

“Liam!” he yelled, snatching his shirt up from the beach, hoping his brother hadn’t wandered too far. He tugged it on. “Liam!”

Floaters were coming—the Baron’s army looking for new recruits, willing or not.

Heart in his throat, Ren managed to shove his sandy feet into his boots. Then he ran into the forest. Arms pumping, lungs burning, he tore through the underbrush. He tripped, tore the heels of his hands on bark and stones. Pinpricks of blood dripped down his fingers. His calf muscles clenched; his thighs trembled. Sweat beaded along his forehead, flattened his dark hair to his temples and gathered at the back of his neck, dripping between the prominent bones of his shoulder blades.

He had to find Liam. They had to hide lest they be forced to serve. They were old enough now.

Ren could hear the floaters; the deep growl of their engines was a constant underlying thrum, an echo of his rabbit-fast heartbeat. Engineered to fly low to the ground and to carry soldiers, the floaters’ thrusters shook the earth. As Ren stumbled toward home, the sound grew louder, as did the voices of the men they carried. In the rapidly growing darkness, Ren sought a glimpse of his brother.

Too wide to navigate through the trees, the flatbed hovercrafts searched roads and alleys and dropped off soldiers for foot pursuit. Ren started to meet the youths of the village fleeing into the dense crush of the forest. Ren felt like a fish swimming upstream, as his shoulders bumped into boys and girls he knew.

“Ren!” Jakob called. “You’re going the wrong way. They’re right behind us.”

Ren plunged forward, desperately looking for a flash of reddish hair and pale skin.

Sorcha brushed past him and Ren caught her hand. She pulled to a stop, hair and eyes wild, face white. “Ren, what are you doing?”

“Have you seen Liam?”

She shook her head.

“I have to find him.”

Her small fingers curled around his own. “He’s probably already hidden. Come on,” she said, tugging. “I know a place we can go.”

Ren was tempted. She promised safety, and once Ren would have given anything for her to hold his hand, but the sounds of shouts and of boots tromping through the underbrush closed in. Screeches of fear and the charge of prods and yells of pain surrounded them, and Ren couldn’t leave until he knew his brother was safe.

He let her go. “I have to find Liam first.”

“If you get caught…”

“I know. Go. I’ll catch up.”

She nodded, gave him one last long look, and then turned and ran.

Ren changed direction and ran parallel to the edge of the forest, scanning the breaks in the new growth for a sign of his brother. He didn’t see him, but the sound of Liam’s voice, high-pitched and filled with fear, sliced through the encroaching noise.

“Help me!”

“Liam!”

Ren dashed toward the sound. He crashed through the undergrowth and burst into a meadow.

Three men in helmets, dressed in a mishmash of gray and black body armor, surrounded Liam. They stalked around him; their long cylindrical prods targeted him. They turned toward Ren.

“Another one.”

Liam shouted. “Ren!”

“Get the little one first.”

One of the men sprang toward Liam; a blue arc of electricity snapped from the end of his prod.

“No!” Ren cried. He tackled the attacking soldier before the weapon could touch Liam’s skin. The light of the prod shuddered out; the weapon had malfunctioned before it could deliver its debilitating shock. Ren thanked the stars, scrambled to his feet and backed away from the fallen man.

With the other two guards now focused on him, and with Liam behind him, Ren crouched low. The taller of the men approached them. His expression beneath the glossy face shield was unknowable, but Ren read his anger in the tight-gloved grip on his weapon and the tense line of his posture. With the lengthening shadows playing across his molded chest plate and shoulders, he appeared otherworldly, like a demon from one of Ren’s mother’s stories. He wasn’t an apparition born from the shadows in the wood to scare children back to their homes, but he was a monster all the same, and the fear of him shook Ren to his bones.

“Run, Liam,” Ren said, voice breathy.

“I won’t leave you.”

“Go. Now. Find Sorcha.”

“But Ren–”

“I’ll catch up.”

It was a lie. They both knew it.

“Bye, Ren,” Liam said, his voice catching.

Ren didn’t turn around, but he let out a sigh of relief when he heard his brother’s footsteps retreat.

One of the soldiers moved to run after Liam, but Ren collided with him, with enough force to bring them both to the ground. Ren had never fought, not even with the other boys in the village. He occasionally wrestled with Liam for fun, but never had he needed to defend himself.

Fueled by adrenaline and fear, he kicked and hit as they rolled on the leaf-strewn meadow. He clawed and scratched to keep the prod away from his body. The weapon sputtered out, leaving the soldier to rely on his superior training to keep Ren on the ground.

The first punch to his jaw snapped Ren’s head back and the second stunned him. His limbs went limp.

The soldier stood, breathing harshly.

“How the hell did you do that?” the soldier demanded.

Ren rolled his head to the side. His chest heaved. His vision swam. His jaw hurt; the corner of his lip bled.

“I didn’t.”

The soldier grabbed the last working prod from his companion. He tested it. Electricity sizzled, crackling in the air. The smell of ozone wafted into Ren’s nose.

Ren scurried backward, pulse racing, fear ratcheting higher with every step the soldier took toward him.

He didn’t get far. His palms slipped on a patch of slick moss. He squeezed his eyes shut when the soldier stabbed the sparking weapon into his torso. He waited for the pain, braced himself against it, muscles tensing, but all he felt was the blunt end of the prod grinding against his ribs.

He opened one eye and found the three soldiers staring down at him with astonished expressions. The prod rested useless in the soldier’s slack fingers.

“What the stars?”

“Who are you? What are you?”

Ren was as confused as they were. “I’m nothing,” he said.

“Yeah. I don’t believe that for half a second.”

The soldier looked at the weapon and the other two crowded closer, checking the charge, arguing over what buttons to push.

Ren saw his last chance at escape. He rolled to his stomach and coiled his legs beneath his body, but that was as much as he managed. The prods were still effective clubs, and the pain of the blow erupted at the base of Ren’s skull.

He flopped forward, face smooshed in the grass. His vision wavered, the edges blackening with every breath.

He felt a toe nudge his hip. “Three prods dead on one kid. We’re going to catch hell when we get back to the citadel.”

Ren made one last effort to crawl away, but a heavy boot settled on the small of his back. Ren knew he should be afraid, but his thoughts were scattered, slipping through his mind like sand through a sieve. The soldiers pulled his arms behind him and snapped on a pair of shackles. The tech automatically adjusted to the size of Ren’s wrists, binding them tight. With one last fleeting thought of Liam, Ren passed out.

2

Ren woke slowly.

His head ached; pain was a constant pulse in his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut against the bright sun as an errant tear tracked down his cheek.

Stars, he hurt, and the jostling of the vehicle he rode in didn’t help matters at all. He was in a floater—that much he had gathered from the hum of the engines—one that had seen better days, if the rocking and sputtering were any indication.

With a low groan, Ren opened his eyes. He was alone, unguarded, obviously not deemed a threat or a flight risk. His head rested on a sack of grain, his body on boxes, and the corners were digging into his lanky frame. He was in a cargo bed, and, judging by the number of crates, not only had the soldiers raided the village for new recruits, they had taken the remnants of the winter stores as well. The village would suffer a few harsh weeks, but it was spring, and game would return to the forest and the fruit trees would bloom. They’d be all right.

Ren wasn’t so sure he would be. The sun was rising. The blow to the head had rendered him unconscious for hours. He could feel the tacky sensation of dried blood pulling on his skin as he craned his neck to look around.

He tested his restraints. His hands were bound behind his back. His shoulders ached and his fingers tingled. It would be hard to maneuver, but he needed to see where he was and if he had any chance at escape.

Sighing, he used his shoulder for leverage and managed to roll onto his side. His vision swam.

He tugged against the shackles. “I wish these could come off,” he muttered.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard a whirr and a click and the tech loosened. Gasping in surprise, he gave another pull and the cuffs fell away.

Carefully, Ren brought his hands to the front of his body, breathing through the stings of pain in his arms and the rush of blood back to his fingers. He stared at his hands, confused and awed, and he gently rubbed his wrists where thick red lines circled them from the cuffs.

After a few minutes, while Ren allowed his body and head to adjust, he slowly reached for the shackles. They flapped open. The clasp was no longer powered; the energy source was depleted, just like the prods, rendered utterly useless. Was the Baron’s tech this bad or was Ren extremely lucky? Either way, it meant Ren was free.

His heart thumped hard. He was free. Escape was now a possibility. He could go home.

Swallowing the sudden excitement, Ren took a few deep, steadying breaths and formed a tentative plan. The floater’s bed was a few feet deep, so his body was not readily visible unless a guard looked down and in, but because Ren was lying on top of the supplies, he could lift his head and peek over the side. Depending on what he saw, he could easily swing over to the ground and make a run for it.

He looked out over the lip of the bed.

His breath caught.

All along the side of the cargo ship floaters hovered, fully manned, with soldiers standing in the beds, armed and alert. Most of them wielded prods, but a few had stunners—guns that shot pulses of electricity, meant to incapacitate and hurt, but not cause lasting harm. If Ren tried to run, he wouldn’t make it far.

The soldiers weren’t the only thing that made Ren’s resolve sink. Behind each floater marched a line of young men and women, hands shackled in front of them, all of them looking exhausted, filthy and tattered. Among them, Ren picked out the striking white-blonde of Sorcha’s hair, and next to her Jakob trudged wearily along, blood caked on the side of his face.

There were others too. Dozens of youths Ren didn’t recognize, probably from villages near his own.

He scanned the crowd as best as he could, looking for Liam. He didn’t see him in the pack from home, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, somewhere, among the groups that were too far away for Ren to see clearly.

Ren ducked back down quickly; to keep searching would mean discovery. The hope he had moments before was utterly gone. Liam could be out there. He could be shoved into the back of a floater, like Ren.

Ren wasn’t going to abandon his brother to the fate that awaited them at the Baron’s citadel, but he was going to be smart about it.

Squirming around, Ren found a spot where he could sit up against a crate and stretch out his legs, but remain unseen. He picked up the malfunctioning cuffs; the clasps opened; the mechanism became inert. Cautiously, he fitted the cuffs around his wrists, pretending to bind his hands, but in the front of his body, like the others. He could pretend to be shackled until the moment was right, until he could find Liam, and together they would escape.

Hands in his lap, Ren adjusted the cuffs as best he could so they would appear to be working. And just as he managed that, the shackles whirred back to life and clamped down, forcing a gasp from Ren. They bound him tightly, as if they had never stopped working.

He stared down at them open-mouthed, confused and wishing they hadn’t formed so tightly around his wrists that they restricted his blood flow.

The cuffs loosened.

Ren flexed his fingers.

Something was strange about the Baron’s tech, and if Ren could puzzle out what it was, when the time came, it could help in his and Liam’s escape.

He would have to study it. And he would, because he was not going to be a slave and neither was his brother.

* * *

For as long as Ren could remember, the Baron had been the ruler of their fief, a patch of land that included several villages, a spaceport that bordered the neighboring fief and several lakes. He wasn’t a hands-on leader by any means and Ren didn’t think he’d visited their village in his lifetime. And that was fine as long as he left them alone. The council took care of their problems, brokered peace and trade negotiations with the nearby villages, dealt with the few crimes that were committed. The people of his village led a quiet life.

But a few years ago, the raids had started.

At first, it had been supplies–their grain, their wool, their dried fish and meat. The Baron declared they were his due. The council had begun setting aside a part of the stores to make the ordeal easier.

Then it had been their people.

The soldiers called it volunteering.

The villagers called it slavery.

Sitting in the back of a floater, hands tied, stomach growling, throat burning with thirst, Ren silently agreed with his family and friends. At least over the course of the day the ride had become smoother. It was a small comfort in the face of impending bondage.

Dusk started to fall before the soldiers called a halt. Ren peeked over the side again. The vehicles slowly formed a circle, and the soldiers ushered the prisoners into the middle, splitting them into groups. Fires blazed, popping up in random patterns within the circle; the flames sawed into the gathering dark.

As Ren watched, he half hoped he’d been forgotten; but his stomach growled, and he realized that being noticed might not be so horrible if it got him rations. The speculation didn’t last long. A soldier popped into Ren’s vision. Startled, he reared back and fell onto the supplies with a squawk.

“Finally awake,” the man grunted from beneath his helmet. He was portly; his armor barely stretched over his girth; but he was strong, and he reached in and grabbed the front of Ren’s shirt, easily yanking him over the lip of the floater’s bed.

The drop wasn’t far—the thrusters were not powerful enough to push them more than a few feet off the ground—but it was enough to knock the air from Ren’s lungs. He landed on his side, jarring his already bruised body, and he rolled as momentum sent him tumbling. He didn’t get a moment to breathe, to collect himself, before the large soldier grabbed the back of Ren’s shirt. He lifted Ren to his feet. Balance off-kilter because his hands were bound, Ren stumbled.

“Lazy duster.”

Ren bit his tongue to keep from saying anything that would get him into trouble.

“Find a fire. Sit and eat and rest. You won’t have such a cushy journey tomorrow.”

Ren frowned, but walked into the makeshift camp. The guard left him once he was in the boundary, probably to harass someone else. Ren found Sorcha among the crowd easily; her blonde hair was a beacon. Jakob sat next to her. Ren joined their fire; his joints creaked as he folded to sit with them and the rest of the small group.

“Ren,” Sorcha breathed, nudging his shoulder. It was as close to a hug as they could manage with their hands in shackles. “We thought you were dead.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Dead?”

Jakob leaned forward. The firelight played along the dried blood on his cheek and sparked in his blue eyes. With his dark hair tangled, falling into his pale, crusted face, he looked gruesome, as if he had walked out of one of the stories Ren’s mother told to keep him out of the forest when he was younger. “Yeah, when they carried you out of the woods, you didn’t look so good.”

“You two saw?”

Sorcha nodded. “You just hung over their shoulder, and there was blood everywhere.” She winced. “There still kind of is.”

Ren tentatively touched the large sticky patch on his neck; his fingers grazed the ends of his crusted hair. He turned his head and for the first time noticed the crimson stains on his shoulders and down his back. Jakob wasn’t the only gruesome one.

“Who else was taken?” Ren asked. “Did you see Liam?”

“A few others. But no. I didn’t see him.”

“I didn’t either,” Jakob added.

Ren blew out a breath; relief washed over him like the cool water from the lake. “Thank the stars. He must have hid.”

Jakob opened his mouth but snapped it shut; his posture stiffened. Ren looked up and saw a soldier walking toward them with a canteen hanging from his shoulder and a sack in his hand. He stopped at their group and dropped the canteen in the dirt.

“That’s for all of you. Don’t waste it.” He kicked the boy next to Jakob in the leg. “Hold out your hands if you want food.”

They all did.

Palms up and open as best as the shackles would allow, Ren quietly accepted the strip of dried meat and the crust of bread. He ate voraciously. The meat was tough and the bread hard, and they settled in his stomach like lead. But they stopped the growling.

The prisoners passed around the canteen, twelve of them sipping the water. Ren took a mouthful, just enough to slake his thirst, and handed the canteen to the girl next to him. It was nearly empty before the last boy could drink, and he sobbed when only a few drops passed his cracked lips.

Ren looked away. Jakob and Sorcha crowded close together.

“How’d you two get caught?”

Jakob shrugged. “They got close to where me and a few of the younger kids were hiding. I ran to draw them off. I wasn’t fast enough. Stunner in the back. Tripped and,” he gestured to his head, “you can see the rest.”

Ren’s estimation of Jakob’s character went up. They hadn’t interacted much in the village, had hardly been friends. Jakob’s father was part of the council, which allowed Jakob to attend school. Ren worked. Ren never pegged Jakob as a person who would risk his privilege to save anyone.

“That’s very brave,” Sorcha said, resting her hand on Jakob’s arm.

“Not really. I have a better chance. My father is on the council. The Baron will have to let me go once he realizes who I am.”

Oh. Obviously Jakob hadn’t learned from the dozen or so villagers who had been taken and never came back.

Ren forced a smile. “Good plan.”

“Yes, it is.” Sorcha cast a knowing look at Ren. “I was found. I didn’t want to get buzzed so I went with them.” She smiled sadly. “Not very brave at all.”

“You’re brave, Sorcha. I know you are. And it’s okay,” Ren said. “The three of us are together now. We’ll get out of this. I know we can.”

“You can say that all you want,” a boy near them chimed in. “But you’re doomed like the rest of us, together or not.”

Jakob straightened and glared, balling up his fists. “I don’t believe you’re in this conversation. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

The boy shrunk back and turned his head.

“What else happened?” Ren asked, low. Jakob and Sorcha exchanged a glance. Jakob squirmed, a far cry from the combative boy he was a moment before. “What?” Ren demanded.

“Your mother…” Sorcha trailed off.

Ren’s heartbeat stuttered. “What happened to my mother?”

“She saw you and she… she tried to get you back.”

Ren sucked in a breath. Oh no. No. “She didn’t… they didn’t—”

“She was prodded,” Jakob said. “That’s all. And then your stepdad took her back into your house.”

Ren could barely swallow around the lump in his throat, but he choked back the tears. He scrubbed them away with the back of his hand, closed his eyes and took a breath. He pushed away the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a liability; in fact, all emotions were liabilities. He would need to pack them away if he was going to survive.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Sorcha and Jakob in the firelight. They flinched. He didn’t know what they saw; he only knew what he needed to do.

“We’re getting out of here.”

Sorcha placed her hand over his. “Okay.”

Jakob reached over and joined, his hand resting over Sorcha’s delicate knuckles. “I’m in.”

“Good.” Ren nodded. “Keep your eyes open. We’ll find a way.”

The nosy kid snorted, but Jakob cast a glare at him and he scooted away.

“For now, we should rest,” Sorcha said.

For the first time, Ren noticed how exhausted both Jakob and Sorcha looked. Their clothes were tattered. Sorcha’s skirt sported a large rip at the hem, and Jakob’s usually impeccable finery was encrusted with dust. Their boots were scuffed from an entire day of walking. He’d share their fate tomorrow, and his head continued to ache.

“Good idea.”

After a little bit of squirming, the three of them managed to find a comfortable position that provided each of them a modicum of warmth. The air grew colder, and they inched as close to the fire as they could with the others around them. Sorcha ended up in the middle with her head on Jakob’s shoulder. Ren lay along her side so the line of her body was a reassuring presence at his back. It struck Ren as funny, how a day ago, lying next to Sorcha would have sent his pulse racing, but now it seemed like the many times he and Liam had shared a space to rest, merely a necessity.

Ren closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep to the sound of the fire crackling and the chirps of crickets.

* * *

Ren was going to smack Liam for making so much noise. Didn’t he know Ren was trying to sleep? Why the stars was he blowing a horn?

“Ren, wake up!”

Sorcha?

He groaned and rolled over. He tried to stretch his arms, but couldn’t. He frowned, wondering how he had become tangled in the sheets, but after a tug his wrists were freed and he was able splay his arms wide, though his shoulders burned from the movement.

“Ren!” It sounded like Jakob, but urgent and scared.

“Liam?” Ren muttered.

“Ren, for stars sake, Liam’s not here.”

Jerking awake, Ren remembered where he was and he scrambled into a sitting position, eyes open, gaze flicking about the camp.

Dawn hadn’t broken, but the sky was lightening quickly. Soldiers marched about, blowing horns, waking the sleeping captives. The fire had dwindled to coals, and everyone stared at Ren with open mouths and wide eyes.

“What?”

“Your cuffs,” Sorcha said, breathy and quiet.

Ren looked down. His hands were unbound, and his shackles sat in the dirt and leaves. Not again. He grabbed them. They flopped open, useless.

“You’re free,” Jakob whispered. “What are you doing? Run. Go.”

Ren shook his head. “No, no. I’ll fix them. I can fix them.”

“Are you crazy?” Jakob said, leaning forward. “Get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you two.”

Sorcha bit her lip and looked at the chaos of the camp, at Jakob’s fierce gaze and then at Ren. “Put them back on before the guards notice.”

“He should go.”

Ren looked around wildly; his dark hair fell into his face. Maybe he should run. He could come back and save them. He could get his stepfather and Jakob’s father and return for them.

He shook the thoughts from his head. He wouldn’t get far. There were guards everywhere, stunners charged and ready. Ren clasped the cuffs around his wrists and willed them to work. The power source hummed, but they didn’t clamp down.

He looked over his shoulder. The landscape was flat and open, no cover unless Ren could make it to the smattering of trees that lined the road. He pulled his body into a crouch.

“Ren,” Sorcha pleaded. “Wait. Don’t, please.”

Suddenly, a figure broke from a group in front of them and took off toward the road. The boy sprinted, feet kicking up dust, jacket flapping madly behind him. Shouts from the soldiers erupted around the camp. A guard standing on the back of a floater lifted his stunner and took aim. Ren didn’t realize he was on his feet, with his heart pounding in his ears as he watched, until Jakob yanked him back down to the ground.

A burst of electricity shot from the muzzle of the stunner. The ball of blue light traveled through the air like a spark. It hit the boy between the shoulder blades. He went down screaming, tumbling in the dirt, his limbs twitching. His yell echoed throughout the camp and in Ren’s ears.

The cuffs squeezed around Ren’s wrists, engaging violently as if the power source had been recharged. Ren’s decision made for him, he sat in the dirt and shuffled closer to Sorcha and Jakob, gaze fixed on two soldiers dragging the boy back to camp.

Jakob’s features twisted in empathy as the boy cried out and his body jerked from residual shock. “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he said, but his voice was thick.

The soldiers brought the boy to the middle of the camp and dropped him. The leader lifted a bullhorn to his mouth.

“Let this be a lesson to you,” he said, the words amplified and distorted. The bullhorn picked up the whimpers of the boy on the ground, and it wasn’t only Ren who sought comfort; Jakob scooted closer and pressed his shoulder hard into Ren’s side. “If you try to run away, we will stop you. If you don’t do as we say, we will hurt you. If you don’t fall in line, we will punish you. The next person who tries will get more than a nasty shock.”

The camp was silent. Not a murmur broke. The only sounds Ren heard were his own harsh breaths and the sobs of the kid a few yards away.

“Break camp. We’re moving out. We will reach the citadel within a few days.”

Moving stiffly, on autopilot, Ren stood with the others. He dropped into formation as instructed with Sorcha next to him and Jakob in front. They marched past the boy on the ground, and Ren saw the soldier’s foot on the back of the boy’s neck and his face in the dirt, streaked with tears.

Again, Ren pushed his own fears away, swallowed it down. If they thought this would break his resolve, they were wrong.

He would escape, and he would take as many of the other kids with him as he could.

Ren pulled his shoulders back and began the march to the Baron’s castle.

3

The farther they trudged, the more the landscape changed. The barren dusty plains gave way to gently rolling green hills. The hills grew steeper and the road grew narrower as it meandered through valleys and sometimes sliced through the terrain with sheer rock walls on either side. As they moved, Ren could occasionally see a ship rocket through the sky, burning through the atmosphere to worlds unknown. He wished he were on one, traveling away to a distant drift rather than marching on sore legs.

They marched from dawn to dusk once again. They camped in a crescent, where a rock wall curved around them at three sides, the land hollowed out. There was only one way out and in, and the soldiers blocked it with floaters placed two deep. Ren didn’t talk much that night. Neither did Jakob and Sorcha. They were all too exhausted to keep their eyes open after a dinner of dried meat, bread and water. Ren fell into a hard sleep, once again piled with Jakob and Sorcha around a dying fire.

There were no attempts at escape.

The next day was the same. As was the next. And the next. The days and nights bled into each other until Ren only knew the haze of walking and the nothingness of sleep.

On the sixth day, there was deep, lush grass on either side of the road and tall trees that cast cool shade. Ren lifted his gaze and on the horizon, he could make out the turrets of the citadel. The Baron’s standards flapped in the breeze, a slash of red and black against the blue spring sky.

Relief and dread welled within Ren in equal parts. Relief won out, however, when Jakob stumbled and went down to his knees. Ren quickly grabbed the back of Jakob’s shirt and hauled him up, but his weight almost pulled them both back down.

“Almost there, Jakob,” Ren grunted, helping his friend to his feet, keeping his own balance through sheer will. “On your feet; we don’t want their attention.”

“So tired,” Jakob mumbled.

“I know. I know, but we’ll be there by nightfall.” Ren licked his dry lips. “There might even be food, a welcome dinner or something for the Baron’s new guests. Or baths. I don’t know about you, but I could use a bar of soap.”

Jakob laughed, a harsh, grating sound, as he staggered forward; his feet slid along the packed dirt path. “I never knew you had a sense of humor,” he said. “At home, you were always distant. Your body was present, but your mind was somewhere else.”

“My stepfather said my head was always in the stars,” Ren said. He kept his hand on Jakob’s arm. It was awkward, but it kept them moving and kept the soldiers’ attention elsewhere.

“I wish I’d known you better. We could’ve been friends.”

“We’re friends now,” Ren said, squeezing Jakob’s shoulder.

Jakob patted Ren’s fingers, a surprisingly gentle gesture. “At least for a little while.”

Ren mustered a smile.

However, Ren was wrong. They made it to the castle in the late afternoon. The dark splotch of stone became larger and larger until it blotted out the sinking sun, casting the caravan into shadow. Ren craned his neck; his gaze traveled over the structure, taking in all the details he could. Any information would aid in their escape.

The castle was the biggest building Ren had ever seen. The towers scraped the sky. The stone walls loomed, menacing and impenetrable. Squinting, Ren could make out the figures of guards marching along the battlements. As they neared, shouts went up, and the massive doors of the main entrance creaked open on iron hinges. And beyond, Ren could see the blueish sheen of a force field.

Eyebrows raised, Ren watched as the head soldier, the one who had had his boot on the neck of the boy so many days ago, punched a code into a keypad built into the stone. Ren was too far away to see the string of numbers, but he was close enough to hear the field power down and see it flicker out. Ren stood on his toes and peered beyond the arch, where a raised wooden platform stood in the middle of a courtyard.

The soldiers ushered the captives into the castle grounds. Wide-eyed, with his hand still wrapped around Jakob’s elbow, Ren stared up at the arch. He tried to discern the points of origin for the force field. His slow pace earned him a sharp shove to the back, and this time it was Jakob who kept Ren upright as they stumbled into the courtyard. Once the entire group was inside, the force field hummed back to life, and the doors closed solidly, echoing with finality.

Ren gulped.

If they were to escape, Ren doubted it would be through those doors. They’d have to find another way.

Jakob nudged his side. “Looks like we’re getting a welcome after all.”

Ren turned around. He spotted Sorcha in the crowd in front of them, close to the raised dais, where a man stood. He had the bearing of an official with his spine ramrod straight and his shoulders held back under fine clothes of red trimmed in black, an echo of the Baron’s standards. His severe gaze swept the crowd, and the setting sun cast an orange haze on his pale skin. His iron-gray hair was shorn close to his head, his beard was neatly trimmed, and he stood on the platform like a general assessing an army. He reminded Ren of a hawk; his nose hooked like a beak and his eyes were sharp, and Ren felt like prey.

Their body armor dusty from the trip, the soldiers flanked the man. Looking around, Ren saw other guards surrounding the captives, herding them closer to the center of the courtyard. After the shuffling, Jakob and Ren were near Sorcha, and she took Jakob’s hand, twining their fingers.

“Welcome,” the man said, his voice booming across the square. “I am General Abiathar. You are now guests of Baron Vos of Erden.”

“Humph, guests,” Jakob muttered.

Ren elbowed him when they received a sharp look from a soldier.

“You are here to aid the Baron in fulfilling his grand destiny. Some of you will do so as servants in the castle. Others will become soldiers. If you follow orders you will do well. If you do not, you endanger yourself and the villages you came from.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. The threat hung in the air. Ren shuddered as an image of Liam, bloodied and marching, popped unbidden into his mind’s eye. He shook it off.

“Each of you will be vetted for your talents and assigned to an area. Then, you will be given food and allowed rest.”

Abiathar gestured, and the soldiers moved through the crowd, manhandling the prisoners into a line. Ren moved as he was directed, not resisting the flow of the bodies. He lowered his head so that his dark hair fell across his face, but he kept one hand on Jakob’s back.

As the progression moved, each prisoner walked up the stairs and faced Abiathar.

“Soldier,” he said to a tall boy from another village. One of the guards unlocked the cuffs and pushed the boy toward a corner of the enclosure where a smattering of guards stood.

And so it went. Young women and young men were dispersed into different departments.

The line moved slowly forward until, after an hour, Sorcha moved up the stairs. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Ren and Jakob, and Ren held his breath.

Abiathar looked her over. He fingered a lock of her blonde hair, and Ren felt Jakob stiffen in front of him.

“Kitchens,” Abiathar said.

The soldier took off her cuffs and she rubbed her wrists, moving toward an arch in the courtyard where a gathering of women and younger boys stood.

Ren sighed in relief.

Jakob stepped up the stairs and Ren stood at the base of the dais.

“Soldier,” Abiathar said, waving Jakob away.

“Wait,” Jakob said, as the cuffs fell from his wrists. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

Jakob wasn’t the first who had spoken. Some of them had pleaded to be sent home. Others asked to be with members of their village. All requests had been denied. Ren wondered if Abiathar took a sick pleasure in crushing the captives’ hopes.

Abiathar raised a steel-colored eyebrow at Jakob. “Explain.”

“My father is on the council of our village. He ensures that the Baron receives the supplies he needs from us. I’m his only son.”

“I see,” Abiathar said. “I thank your father for his sacrifice.” He addressed the soldier behind Jakob. “Make sure this young man has the appropriate accommodations.”

Ren couldn’t see Jakob’s face, but he saw the straightening of his shoulders, and the protest brimming in his body language. Ren heard the static charge of a prod, saw the shift of the guard’s body and raced up the steps. Though his hands were cuffed, he clasped his fingers around Jakob’s upper arm.

“Don’t.”

There wasn’t much room to maneuver on the wooden platform, and Ren pressed against Jakob’s side.

Abiathar’s blue gaze landed on him, and Ren felt like a worm on a hook.

“And who are you?”

Ren swallowed the fear rising in his throat, and his mouth went dry. He didn’t have to answer.

“This is the one, General.”

The twitch of Abiathar’s eyebrows was almost imperceptible, but from where Ren stood, he could track every nuance of Abiathar’s expression. Interest and curiosity were evident in the slow curl of his lips and the glint in his eyes.

With a nod of his head, Abiathar signaled for Jakob to be removed from the dais, and, though Ren attempted to hold on and Jakob grabbed Ren’s hand, the soldier pried them apart. Jakob was forcibly escorted to the group in the middle of the training yard, which was ringed by weapon-wielding guards.

“Your reputation precedes you,” Abiathar said, slowly.

“My what?”

Ren’s question was ignored. “How many prods was it that you disarmed?”

Confused, Ren’s mouth fell open. His palms went clammy. “I… I… what? None. I didn’t do anything!” His voice cracked.

Abiathar hummed. He gestured to Ren’s cuffs. “Take those off.”

“I can’t. I don’t have the electronic signature.”

“Yes, you can.”

Ren looked down at them, heard their energy source thrumming, saw the lights blinking around the bands. Ren jerked on his wrists. Nothing happened.

“I can’t.”

The movement of Abiathar’s hand was so quick, Ren didn’t register it until claw-like fingers dug into his jaw. Abiathar yanked Ren’s chin, forcing his gaze up from his wrists and into the uncompromising will in Abiathar’s eyes. Ren couldn’t pull away. Abiathar’s grip was bruising, and Ren stared into rings of blue around black pupils.

“You will unlock them.”

Ren flinched. Abiathar’s voice echoed in his mind and slithered in his ear, and Ren found his body swaying unconsciously, reacting to the sound against his will. He blinked with sluggish eyelids, and he shook his head.

“What are you…?”

“Unlock them.”

A shiver worked its way down Ren’s spine. It felt wrong, having another voice in his head. Everything was muted but Abiathar’s words, sharp and pulsing in Ren’s skull.

Unlock them. Unlock them. Unlock them.

Ren’s senses tangled. He could taste color, touch the words that resonated throughout his body. Something warm and golden tingled in Ren’s fingertips, and it raced down Ren’s limbs.

He gasped.

The cuffs fell away.

Abiathar let him go, and Ren staggered back. Reality snapped back into place. His head spinning, his chest heaving, Ren looked around to see everyone staring, most with pale faces, and with undisguised fear.

Abiathar smiled, his mouth a red slash across his face.

“Very good.” He nodded to the guard over Ren’s shoulder. “Take him to the iron cell. Be careful with him.”

Reeling, Ren didn’t fight when the guard grabbed his arms and actually leaned into the touch to steady his body. He half-stumbled down the stairs and, when he looked at the line of captives waiting for their audience, he saw a line of cuffs at their feet, as if they had all fallen off, malfunctioned simultaneously.

Another guard joined the one holding him. On shaky legs, Ren walked where he was led, sometimes pushed, and when he passed the group of soon-to-be soldiers, he saw Jakob. His eyes were wide and his mouth open. He stared at Ren as though he’d never seen him before, and Ren didn’t know what that meant.

* * *

“Where are you taking me?” Ren asked, panicked once he came back to himself. Two soldiers flanked him on either side, their hands on his arms as they guided him into an archway. The temperature was significantly cooler in the shade of the stone, and the light was dim. Heart in his throat, Ren squirmed, turning to look back at the sunlight. “Where are we going?” he said again, voice small.

“To the iron cell. You can’t manipulate tech in there.”

“I can’t what? What do you mean?”

The soldier pressed his lips together and shook his head. The other remained silent.

The innards of the castle were a crisscrossing maze of corridors, and Ren couldn’t keep track of the route to wherever it was they were going. He didn’t know if this was purposeful, if the route was meant to confuse him, make it harder for escape, or if the castle actually was a labyrinth. As they moved farther into the stone bowels, going down steep steps, taking turns at crossroads, their way was lit by glowing tech lights built into the walls.

Ren marveled at the construction. His home in the village was made of wood and dirt, and the only tech were small gadgets with their own power sources, like the touch lights they used at night, and the cold box for their food, the one extravagance his mother had purchased from the space docks. Here, tech fit seamlessly into stone.

They finally stopped at a large wooden door with a metal latch. The guard pulled out an old key, fitted it in the keyhole and, with a grunt, opened the lock. The door swung outward, and waiting just on the other side was another flickering force field. A passcode punched into the keypad powered it down, and the soldiers escorted Ren into the room.

The light on the far side of the dungeon was out, casting half the space in shadow, but Ren could clearly see the two prison cells that sat side by side.

Ren swallowed hard, studying the iron grid and the massive lock, and the lonely room that was to become his new home.

“Why are you putting me in here? I don’t understand.”

One of the guards swung open the cell door and the other pushed Ren in. They closed it. The sound of the door rang in the small space.

Ren stood at the front of the cell with his hands wrapped around the iron. “Don’t leave me in here. Please.”

“Piece of advice, kid,” the soldier said, standing on the other side of the force field. “Do what Abiathar says. You seem like a nice kid. I’d hate to see what happened to the last occupant of that cell happen to you.”

“What happened?” Ren called, as the door creaked closed. “What happened?”

There was no answer.

Ren stepped back.

Lonely and afraid, Ren ran his hands down his arms and looked around. The cell was a square. A hay-stuffed mattress sat along the back wall. A bucket and a tin plate were the only other contents.

Ren looked down at his shaking hands; his fingers were dirty, caked with dust from the march, and bruises ringed his wrists from the shackles.

The shackles.

They’d fallen off.

Abiathar’s voice had done something to him. He’d coaxed him into… into… making the cuffs unlock. But how did Ren do that? How was it possible?

“What did I do?” he whispered, flexing his fingers. “Why am I here?”

“Because you manipulated tech.”

Ren reeled backward, falling to the ground. He scrambled to the far corner of the cell, pressed his back against the stone and clutched the hay mattress underneath him.

He trembled. “Who’s there?”

He heard a shuffle of feet from the shadows of the other cell, and then a man stepped into the light. He leaned on the iron grid that separated the cells with his arms bent above his head and his fingers dangling. The sparse light cast a halo on his greasy blond hair. His clothes were finer than anything Ren owned, but they were worn and dirty from the cell. He was young, probably a little older than Ren but not by many years, and his body was lean, stretched out along the slats.

“You got the cuffs to fall off, didn’t you?”

Ren furrowed his brow. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “How did you know?”

“It’s Abiathar’s favorite trick.”

“Trick? What does that mean?”

The captive cocked his head, eyebrows raised. “You don’t know.”

Ren shook his head.

“Let me guess, small village, not much tech. Right?”

“Yeah,” Ren said, slowly, unsure he appreciated the insinuation. “Tech is more trouble than it’s worth most of the time. Why use a hover engine to pull a plow when a horse could do the work and has less chance of breaking?”

“Spoken like a true duster,” the prisoner muttered.

Ren scoffed. “And what are you? A spacer?”

“No, I’m a drifter.”

Ren sat up from where he had propped his head on his hand. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as a life support malfunction.”

A drifter. An actual person who’d been born on a drift. Ren had never met one. If they did come planet-side, which Ren had learned was rare, they stuck to the spaceports. Even the traveling tech salesmen who occasionally came to the village were dusters.

Ren couldn’t stop the questions. “Then what are you doing here? How’d you get here? How long have you been here?”

The man smiled lazily. It looked out of place on his smudged face. “My name is Asher. Everyone calls me Ash.”

Ren blinked. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Not really, but it’s my name. You did ask a few minutes ago.”

Ren exhaled roughly and looked away. Of course, the one person he was stuck with was a condescending drifter. It was just his luck. He focused his gaze on the force field, the blue sheen glimmering in the low light. He could hear the hum of the energy.

His throat ached. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since morning. His thoughts whirring, he absently rubbed his abdomen.

“Don’t be like that. We’re neighbors now. It doesn’t matter where we’re from. I’m just as trapped as you.” Asher ducked his head, his expression imploring. “Come on, what’s your name?”

Ren sighed, shoulders drooping. “Ren.”

“Nice to meet you, Ren. Welcome to your new home.”

Ren pulled his knees to his chest and propped his chin on them. “Well, I don’t plan to be here long.”

Asher made a noise of disbelief and pushed away from the slats. “That’s what they all say,” he said, settling down on his own mattress. He leaned against the wall, long legs out in front of him. “Trust me, Ren. Don’t do anything stupid. It’s not worth it.”

Ren didn’t reply. He stared at the locked door behind a force field and imagined the maze of corridors and the guards on the walls and his throat went tight. He’d find a way out. He had to.

* * *

An indeterminate time later the guards returned, and Ren scrambled to his feet from his half-doze on the mattress. They opened his cell and ushered him out, not sparing Asher a glance.

“Hold out your arms.”

Tired and depleted of emotional energy, Ren did as he was told without complaint. The guards snapped iron shackles on Ren’s wrists. Heavier than the electronic restraints, they afforded more room to move since several links of chain joined the cuffs.

“What’s this for?” Ren asked as the cold metal pinched the skin of his wrists.

“The General doesn’t want a prize like you getting away.”

Casting a glimpse over his shoulder, Ren saw Asher sitting in the shadows, watching disinterestedly. Ren didn’t know what he expected, but Asher’s lack of reaction made his dislike for him double. However, it did nothing to squelch his curiosity.

A yank to Ren’s shackles made him stumble forward, and he turned around lest he run into a wall. The soldiers guided him back down the maze of hallways and staircases, and yet again, Ren’s head spun with trying to keep track of all the turns. After one sharp right, Ren saw the twilight sky through an arch. The blue of day inched toward darkening night, and Ren saw the emergence of twinkling stars.

Stepping out into the expansive courtyard, Ren smelled the thick scent of food, and his stomach rumbled. He quickly looked around for Sorcha and Jakob, but didn’t see either of them in the groups of people milling about, though he didn’t get much chance to look. The guards ushered him toward the far end, where a line of boys were taking turns at a few troughs of water. Several other soldiers stood around, prods out, and Ren winced at the thought of the combination of electricity and water.

“Get cleaned up,” one barked at the waiting line. “And hurry if you want your supper.”

By the time it was Ren’s turn, the water was cold. The shackles made it difficult, but Ren managed. Using a cake of soap, Ren washed off the days of grime, blood and dust and, despite the situation, he felt infinitely better once clean.

The guards pointed him toward another line where the food was dished out. While waiting his turn, Ren glanced around the courtyard again. He was the only one in shackles. Everyone else was unbound, apparently not considered flight risks.

Nearing the front of the line, Ren picked up a tin bowl and cup from the table and shuffled forward. He held out his plate, and the girl in front of him ladled a portion of the stew from the pot and poured it into his tin.

“Ren,” the girl whispered.

Ren looked up and met her gaze.

“Sorcha?”

She nodded. Her long white-blonde hair was pulled back and tucked under a kerchief. Without it framing her face, Ren hardly recognized her; her blue eyes were too large, her cheekbones too sharp.

“Are you all right?” Ren asked.

She bit her lip and nodded. “Where did they take you?”

Ren opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

“Hey,” a guard yelled. “Quit holding up the line.”

Ren gave Sorcha a weak smile and moved, grabbing a crust of bread from the stack. He dipped his cup in the bucket of drinking water, then left the line and sat in the courtyard with the others. Like the washing water, the stew was cold, but it was thick and better than the dried tack he’d eaten the last few days.

Someone dropped beside him and Ren looked up from slurping to find Jakob at his elbow.

“Hey,” Jakob said, low, “where are they keeping you?”

“In a cell in a dungeon,” Ren said, scooping up stew with his bread. His shackles clinked as he moved. “What about you?”

“In a barracks with a bunch of other new recruits. I have a space on the floor next to five others. It’s a tight fit. I’m glad we were all forced to bathe.”

Ren smiled. Leave it to Jakob to complain about accommodations while being a slave. “At least the food isn’t bad,” he offered.

Jakob snorted. They ate in silence until Jakob elbowed Ren in the side.

“How come you never told anyone you could do that?”

Ren used the rest of his bread to sop up his stew. “Do what?”

“You know,” Jakob gestured with his free hand, “the thing with the cuffs.”

“I didn’t do anything. It was Abiathar. It’s a trick,” Ren said, ducking his head, keeping his gaze fixed on his now-empty plate. His stomach growled.

“Huh. Well, from where I was standing it looked like it was you. Your eyes glowed and—”

“My eyes glowed?” Ren said, snapping his head up and staring at Jakob. “What do you mean?”

Jakob shrugged. “They went blue, like, uh, the kind of electric blue when the stunners fire.”

“My eyes are brown.”

Jakob scrunched his nose. “I know. I’m looking at them right now. But I’m telling you, they went blue. And then your cuffs fell off and the cuffs of the people behind you did too.”

“But I didn’t… it wasn’t me. It was Abiathar. He can do this trick with his voice and it—”

“You know, you don’t have to lie, Ren. We’re not at home anymore. It’s not like you’ll be branded any stranger than you already are.”

“Jakob,” Ren said, at a loss.

Jakob stood, empty plate dangling from his fingers. His voice went hard. “Just keep looking for a way out,” he said, “and don’t forget me and Sorcha if you find one.”

He stalked off, dropped his dirty plate in the pile where a few girls were washing them in a tub, and disappeared under an arch, presumably the way to the barracks.

Ren watched him go. A hollow feeling took up residence in his gut and it wasn’t hunger. He stood and dropped off his own plate, before walking to the archway that led back to the cell.

“I’m ready to go back,” he said softly.

The guard muttered under his breath, but he turned and led Ren into the labyrinth of hallways. Along the way, a girl scurried past them clutching dishes, her head down, hair pulled back like Sorcha’s. Ren furrowed his brow as she brushed past them and looked at the guard, who didn’t act as if her appearance was unusual at all.

When they arrived at the door, the guard unlocked it, entered his passcode and then unlocked Ren’s cell. Ren stood patiently during it all, even when the guard took two tries to unlock the shackles before pushing Ren into his cell.

“Say what you want about the hospitality,” Asher said, once the guard had left, “but you can’t beat the stew. Cold or not.”

Ren ignored him. He dropped to the hay mattress and lay down facing the wall. Sleep was a long time coming, and when it finally did, it was filled with dreams of electricity and stars.

4

When the guards came in the morning, they ignored Asher. They gave Ren an apple, which he ate as they walked toward the courtyard. His shackles pinched the skin of his wrists, and the chain clinked as he bit into the sweet flesh of the fruit. As they emerged from the bowels of the castle, Ren blinked in the low-slung sunlight and sleepily observed the goings-on.

The dozens of children who were to be soldiers stood at attention in rows as a high-ranking official yelled at them. Ren spotted Jakob, his back straight, chin raised in defiance, toward the end of one line. It wouldn’t be long before Jakob did something rash to earn a prod.

A few of the younger kids, too small to be soldiers but old enough to be captured, ran around performing errands—carrying buckets of water to the kitchens, handing notes to various soldiers, carrying baskets of linens. The castle was like a village unto itself, bustling with people, though not self-sustaining, as the raids on Ren’s village demonstrated. A nagging thought entered Ren’s mind. What happened to the people who had been here before? Where were the young people who had been captured the previous year, and the ones before then? What happened to them? Why did the Baron need to replenish his supply?

And what was Ren here to do? It obviously wasn’t to be a soldier.

“What am I supposed to be doing?” Ren asked, following his guard.

“Shut up and keep walking.”

Ren sighed. The guard, a heavily muscled man with dark skin, took him to the corner of the yard and stopped in a shady spot where a low table was set up, a plank of wood on two blocks of stone. It overflowed with tech. A box of tools sat open on the ground. Ren raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Fix them.”

“Fix them? I don’t even know what some of these things are.”

The guard shrugged. He stood next to the table, tucked his prod into his belt and gestured for Ren to start. Ren stared down at the pile of useless tech. Well, it wasn’t much different than when he fixed tech at home.

He upended a nearby crate and pulled it over. He sat, his knees bumping into the lip of the table, and set to work.

Ren picked up a prod. He was somewhat familiar with it, having seen it in action, even if he’d never held one.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me work with weapons,” Ren said, as he inspected the prod. He tried to get it to spark. It sputtered, but didn’t light.

The guard crossed his thick arms. “You won’t do anything,” he said, confidently. “You won’t risk it.”

“Who says I won’t? Don’t think I’m brave enough?”

“No. I don’t think you’re stupid enough.”

Ren smiled in spite of himself. He flipped open the compartment in the handle of the weapon and stared at the burnt wires. No wonder it wouldn’t work. He grabbed a wire cutter out of the toolbox and began to strip them.

“My name is Ren,” he said as he worked.

The guard grunted and took a breath, and Ren looked up to see him observing the courtyard with his strong jaw clenched and his curly hair pinned back from his face. He looked young, despite the worry lines etched into his forehead.

“I’m Oz,” he replied in a low voice. “Now, shut up and get to work.”

Ren’s smile grew. And he did as he was told.

A few minutes later, after Ren bastardized a few wires from a dead comm to use in the prod, it hummed to life.

* * *

Ren worked the entire day. At lunchtime, a girl from the kitchens, the one Ren had seen in the hallway, dropped off a plate of cheese and bread and a cup of water. Ren thanked her, and she scurried away. The soldiers formed a line shortly thereafter, and Ren watched as Sorcha emerged from the door to the kitchens with a pot. She dished out stew under the watchful eye of the head cook.

“Is she from your village?” Oz asked, nodding toward Sorcha, noticing Ren’s gaze. “Was she your girl?”

Ren ducked his head. “No.” It was true he had thought about it, but he’d thought about other girls and boys too. Now, he was certain that part of his life was over or, more accurately, would never begin. “She’s just a girl I knew.”

“Ah,” Oz said. “I understand.”

“Were you like us?” Ren asked, his fingers poking at the innards of a stunner. “Taken from your home? Forced to serve?”

“I’m not like you.”

“Not now, you’re not, but before. Are you from one of the nearby villages?”

Oz uncrossed his arms and flexed his hands. “I serve Baron Vos. That’s all you need to know.”

“Yes, but did you always serve him? And where are the others?”

“It’s not your concern.”

Ren squinted at a troublesome circuit. “That’s what I thought.”

Jaw clenched, Oz’s green eyes glittered as he stared at Ren. “Shut up and work. I’m your guard, not your friend.”

Ren hunched over the table and went back to fiddling with the components. Oz may not have given Ren an answer, but his defensiveness did tell Ren there was a reason none of the previous captives were here, and it had to do with what Abiathar said the previous day, about the Baron’s destiny. Whatever it was, Ren would figure it out. He had to, because the more he observed, the more he knew escape would be impossible without all the pieces of the puzzle.

Hours passed in silence as Ren attempted to fix tech he had no experience with while Oz stood at his shoulder. Sometimes, Ren would take a moment to see what the recruits were doing. He watched as Jakob was made to do pushups. Those who lagged were prodded, and as electricity coursed through their bodies, Ren smelled ozone wafting on the light breeze. The trainers pitted the recruits against each other in wrestling matches, and by the end of them, Jakob sported a bloody nose and a torn shirt, but at least he’d won a few bouts. He wasn’t on the bottom rung of the group.

By the end of the day, Ren had seen more of the training techniques than he wanted, and winced as soldiers dragged several of the boys away to the barracks, exhausted and injured. For his own work, Ren had fixed several prods and a stunner. His stomach churned at the thought of the weapons being used against more villages and their inhabitants. But there was nothing he could do. If he didn’t work, then he’d be punished, or his friends would be. And he couldn’t escape if he was hurt, and neither could they.

A different guard relieved Oz a few hours before twilight, and after another dinner of stew and water that Ren ate alone, the guard led Ren back to his cell.

Asher was there, hands behind his head, sprawled on the stone floor of his cell.

“Escape yet?” he asked lazily.

Ren bristled. “Screw you.”

“Relax,” Asher said, propping up on his elbows. “The sooner you realize there’s nothing you can do, the sooner you can accept your fate.”

Ren sat down on his mattress. He pulled off his boots, wincing at the smell. What he wouldn’t do for an actual bath. “I’m not accepting anything,” he answered.

Asher nodded, his expression bored. “Right. You look like you’re fighting the power at every turn.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No bruises. No smell of burnt hair, so you weren’t prodded today. No blood. Looks like you did exactly what the general wanted you to do. And it sure as hell wasn’t training for his army.”

Ren frowned. He rubbed his wrists, where the joints ached from the pull of the shackles. “Just because I’m not rebelling doesn’t mean I’m not planning.”

“Sure you are.”

“I don’t want to draw attention. I can’t escape if I’m being watched at every turn.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “So you are smart. I didn’t think dusters could be cunning.”

“And I didn’t think drifters would be so annoying. But here we are.”

Asher laughed, the sound echoing in the stone space, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wow, personality beneath your solemn exterior. Who knew?”

The corner of Ren’s lip curled in a half-smile. Teasing reminded him of Liam. “Who says I’m solemn?”

“Your face.” Asher stood and leaned against the grid that separated them. In the soft light, his features looked less severe, younger, beautiful, unlike the harsh exterior that existed in the half-shadows. “You always look like you’re sucking a lemon. I thought it was a weird duster deformity at first.”

“Call it an unfortunate side effect of being captured and made a slave.”

Asher laughed again. “Snarky. Anyway, but then you smiled, so I figured out it was a personality thing. It suits you, by the way—smiling. You should do it more often.”

Ren blinked. “Thanks?”

“No problem. At least you’re more talkative than the last occupant of your cell.”

Ren remembered what the guard had warned him about the previous day. He swallowed. “What happened to them?”

Shrugging, Asher rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “She went out with the guards one day and didn’t come back.”

Ren bit his lip. “Did she unlock the cuffs too?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t talk much. She told me her name and that was about it. She cried a lot.”

“Probably another unfortunate side effect of being taken from your home.”

“Probably,” Asher agreed. “But I have you now, and you’re infinitely more fun. I see my hours of boredom being cut in half, at least.” Asher made a slashing motion with his hand; his grin was wide despite the heavy topic.

“Glad I can be a source of entertainment.” Body cushioned by the hay, Ren relaxed against the wall. “But don’t you get out at all?”

Asher shook his head. “No. Unlike you, I’m not allowed outside of these four walls. It can be quite dull.”

Ren furrowed his brow. He hadn’t seen Asher taken from the cell, but he’d only been here two days. If Asher wasn’t a soldier or a servant, what was his purpose? What was he doing here?

Asher sighed and flexed his grip on the iron separating them. “Go ahead and ask.”

“Who are you? I mean, what’s your purpose? Why keep you around?”

“My good looks, obviously,” Asher said with a wink. At Ren’s unimpressed expression, Asher wilted. He leaned heavily on the bars. “I’m a hostage. I’m insurance so off-planet authorities don’t interfere with the Baron’s plans. That’s my purpose.”

“What plans?” Ren stood, his bare feet flat on the cool stone. He walked closer to Asher, and with the small distance between them, Ren noticed how tired Asher looked; the shadows under his eyes were not a trick of the low light, and his skin was pale from being kept inside. The flippant attitude was an act, a defense mechanism, and Ren could see it in the slump of Asher’s posture and the tightness of his jaw. “What plans?” Ren said, again.

Asher looked away. “His plans to take over your entire planet.”

“He can’t do that,” Ren said. “Erden is divided into five fiefs. Each fief has its own ruler and they report to a distant lord I don’t even know the name of.”

Groaning, Asher banged his forehead on the bars. “Oh my stars, you really are a duster, aren’t you? You don’t even know the ruler of your own backward feudal system of government. No wonder your people are easy pickings for a power-mad despot. Don’t you even watch your planet’s communication bulletins?”

“Insulting me isn’t helping,” Ren said, stepping closer. “And no, my mother didn’t allow it. What does it matter? Our village took care of itself.”

“It matters because that lord was assassinated last year. That created a power vacuum and your beloved Baron is gobbling up every bit of land he can get his hands on in a bid for power.”

Ren’s stomach dropped to the floor. “That’s why he’s building an army.”

“No, he’s built an army. It’s spread all over four of the five fiefs. He needed this new batch of people as reinforcements. You and the people from your village are his cavalry.”

“How do you know all this? Who are you?”

Asher pushed away from the barrier. He turned and pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a thin thread of a necklace and flashing the patch of skin on his right shoulder blade. In the dim light, Ren could make out the dark tattoo on Asher’s pale skin: a stylistic bird with its wings outstretched and flames rising around its feet. Ren recognized it immediately from the patch of cloth his mother kept in a box Ren wasn’t supposed to know about. But Asher’s was different; a swath of scar tissue cut through the mark.

“Phoenix Corps,” Ren breathed.

“So you know it then?”

Ren stepped closer. He reached out to touch in a daze, and only stopped when he realized what he was doing. His fingers curled back in to his palm. “Yes.”

“The lord of your planet called us in.” Asher said, hitching his shirt up to cover the tattoo. He turned around and cleared his throat. “He knew the Baron was amassing power, stealing from the villages he was supposed to protect. My regiment landed and we all thought it was some stupid duster conflict that would take us a day to clear up. The Baron’s army waited for us and overwhelmed our handful of troops by sheer numbers. I was captured along with a few others. The only reason the Baron spared me is because my mother is a high-ranking elected official in the Drift Alliance. As long as I am alive, the Phoenix Corps will not interfere with the Baron’s plans.”

Now, as Asher paced the small length of his cell, it was Ren, drawn to Asher’s story, leaning on the bars. Asher provided answers to many of the questions that had plagued Ren. The previous captives were fighting a conflict across the fiefs for the Baron. The Baron was after power and land and wealth and was not above using untrained villagers to acquire them. And while Ren processed all of the new information, one fact stuck out and made him ache down to his bones.

“You’ve been here for over a year?” he asked quietly.

Asher stopped his pacing, gaze leveled at Ren. “Yes,” he said softly. “It’s been me and these four walls and occasionally a companion in the cell next to me.” He cast Ren an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s you for now.”

“Don’t apologize. How does your mother know you’re alive?” Ren’s throat went tight around the words. He thought of his mother and wondered if she grieved for him. If he could find a way to tell her he was alive, that he was fine and looking for a way to escape, he’d gladly do it.

“The guards take videos.” Asher rubbed his stubbled cheeks. “They even let me bathe and shave before them. I tell her I’m being treated well and I wave and they send it to her.”

“Have you tried to escape?” Ren pressed, fingers wrapped around the slats.

Asher, hands on his hips, stared at the floor. “I was injured badly when they brought me here. I never had a chance.”

“Your shoulder.”

Asher rubbed the joint and rolled it several times. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Asher huffed a laugh. “Don’t be. Look, it’s like I said. The sooner you realize there’s nothing you can do, the better.”

Ren dropped his arms and pulled away. He crossed to his mattress and sat on it. Asher’s words sank like arrows into his body; his hopelessness hurt Ren in a way he didn’t think it could.

“I have to get out of here,” Ren whispered.

“And go where? He’s not going to stop, Ren. He’s going to keep going to your villages. He’s going to keep taking your food and your people. So even if you run home, he’s going to drag you right back.”

Ren curled up on the mattress. Asher was right. If what he said was true, then the Baron would continue to hunt them, and Liam was in danger. Ren had to get home to warn his family, and then they could run. Maybe they could find a way off-world.

“I’m sorry, Ren,” Asher said. When Ren didn’t respond, Asher sighed. “Get some rest. I’m sure the guards will come for you early. And hopefully, you’ll come back.”

Ren tucked his hands under his cheek and closed his eyes.

%

Time passed in a haze for Ren. His life took on a new routine. He woke up. He ate breakfast. He worked in the courtyard. He watched Jakob train to become a soldier against his will. He watched Sorcha scrub pots and pans and serve food. He fixed tech and slowly learned the common ways in which the different objects broke. Prods tended to burn out. Stunners’ triggers malfunctioned often. Comms broke from being dropped on the stone and having their circuits jarred loose. He even fixed the personal holovid recorder of one of the guards, which earned him an extra piece of bread at dinner.

Each night, Ren was taken back to the cell.

And while Ren lay on his mattress, arms aching from the shackles, he listened to Asher tell stories of his time in the Phoenix Corps.

“I was sixteen when I ran away from Mykonos and joined the Corps. My mother was furious. She said I was too young, too stupid, too reckless. But my older sister was running her own ship and I was eager to start my own life. There wasn’t anything she could do. I signed my name on the form. Four years later,” he said, looking around the cell, “and here I am. Maybe I should have listened to her a little more.”

“The lament of most teenagers,” Ren said around a yawn. “I should’ve listened to my mom.”

Asher laughed.

Ren raised his head and smiled.

Asher had taken to sitting in the corner next to their shared wall. He rested his head on the slats with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms propped on his bent legs.

“All right,” he said, looking at Ren, “your turn.”

“My turn?”

“I’ve been talking for a week. It’s your turn to tell me a story.”

Ren flopped back on the mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, a grid of stone, just like the walls and the floor. He wondered how Asher hadn’t gone mad yet.

“I don’t have any stories.”

“Sure you do. Your village couldn’t have been so boring that you don’t have any stories.”

Ren crossed his arms behind his head. “Actually, it was.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Ren sighed. “I have a brother. Liam. My mother used to tell us these weird stories about women who could tell the future and about humans who became machines and broke the sky.”

“Tell me one of those,” Asher said, voice oddly quiet.

“I don’t tell it as well as my mother does.”

“Try. I’ll bite my tongue if you suck at it.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Oh, come on, you cog. Out with it.”

Ren laughed. He rolled to his side and peered at Asher in the dark. “What did you call me?”

“You heard me. Make with the story.”

“Fine,” Ren said. He took a breath.

“Back when this world was new, an old star exploded. The dust rocketed through space and most of it burned up in the atmosphere, but a few specks, a very few, floated down to the planet’s surface. These specks were inhaled by people, and they became hosts to the star’s power. Then the star hosts developed special abilities.”

“What kind of abilities?”

“I thought you were going to bite your tongue?”

Asher looked contrite. He pressed his lips together and gestured for Ren to continue.

“Anyway,” Ren said, “some of the star hosts developed the power to see into the future. The first seer, a woman named Cassandra, was so accurate she could predict death. But no one believed her. And when they finally did, it was always too late. Cassandra was driven mad by her own power and was locked away.” Ren stopped and smiled softly. “At this point, story time usually devolved into Liam and me asking questions about our own futures.”

“Do you believe it?”

“Believe what?”

“That there are star hosts. With powers? Who can tell the future?”

Ren shrugged. “It’s just a legend.”

“Legends usually have a little truth to them.”

Ren closed his eyes and remembered how he had told Liam the same thing. It seemed like only yesterday, but weeks had passed since Ren had last seen his brother, since Liam had declared Ren a dreamer in a duster’s body.

Ren missed him. He missed him so much it was as if a hole had opened up in his chest. Sometimes, he thought he saw Liam, but it was always a figment of his imagination, or some other unfortunate boy who had been captured along with them.

Hot tears gathered swiftly behind his eyes, and Ren angrily scrubbed them away.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

“Yeah,” Ren said, voice thick. “Just thinking about home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ren said. “And I don’t know what to believe. For the longest time I thought if I could just get away, I could find out what truth really is out there. Maybe find something spectacular. But now, I’m miles away from my village, my family, and all I want to do is go home. I couldn’t care less about legends.” Ren picked a piece of hay from his mattress and rolled it between his fingers. “It must sound like duster nonsense to you.”

Asher shifted and turned so that his crossed legs pushed his knees against the grate. “It doesn’t. When I was gallivanting across the cluster, visiting drifts and backwater planets like yours, I missed my home too. It’s not duster nonsense.”

“Well,” Ren said, squirming around on the mattress, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. “At least you’ll get to leave here when this is all over. I don’t know where I’ll be.”

“Right,” Asher replied. It came out solemn and tired. “I hope you get to go home, Ren. Until then, lay low. You were right not to draw attention to yourself.”

Ren yawned. “I’ll do my best. Now, let me sleep. Some of us have important work in the morning.”

Scoffing, Asher crawled to his own mattress and plopped down onto it. “Goodnight, you idiot duster.”

Ren closed his eyes. “Goodnight, you arrogant drifter.” And he went to sleep.

5

After two weeks of being led to and from the courtyard, Ren could almost navigate the twists and turns of the corridors. He followed Oz, counting the steps, noting the turns. His chains clanked, but Ren had become used to their sound and weight. After the last sharp right, Ren could see the glow of the dawn ahead.

Smiling to himself, Ren stepped into the courtyard and blinked against the sudden natural light. He took a deep breath, inhaling the brisk morning air. He moved toward his normal spot in the corner of the courtyard, but Oz gripped his shoulder and stopped him.

“Not today,” Oz said. “This way.”

Another guard joined them, and they brought Ren to a wrought iron door.

Every day thus far, Ren had been taken from his cell, and every evening had been brought back. But the fear of not returning weighed heavily on his mind. And though Asher hid everything behind a glib exterior and snarky commentary, Ren saw he was relieved, as well, when Ren walked back into the dungeon at night.

“Where are we going?” Ren asked. Fear welled up into his middle, sending his pulse racing.

“You’re needed elsewhere today,” Oz said.

“Am I coming back?”

Oz didn’t reply. Instead, he opened the door, punched in the code for the force field and pushed Ren through when he didn’t immediately follow the other guard.

It was a corridor, like those Ren had experienced in his walk to and from the courtyard, but this one was narrower; its ceiling was short and curved. Oz slouched to walk through, and they had to walk single file. Ren’s shoulders brushed both walls. The tunnel was dark, with no natural light and no tech lights apparent in the walls, but it was short. They stopped at another force field, and beyond it, instead of a door, was a circular grate.

Ducking through it, Ren emerged into a line of bushes. He turned to look over his shoulder and stopped short, amazed to see the sheer outer stone wall of the citadel. It was massive, reaching toward the sky, looming over the landscape.

It took a moment for the implication to hit him. He was outside. He was on the other side of the wall.

Ren swallowed his panic. He wished he had said something to Asher that morning. He wished he’d talked to Sorcha the night before as she served food. He wished he’d sought out Jakob, even after their strained conversation weeks ago.

“An escape tunnel,” Ren said. “Why would a citadel need a hidden tunnel?”

“In case of a siege,” Oz replied. He spun Ren around and shoved him forward. “Now, keep walking. No more questions.”

Ren stumbled, but righted his body using the wall. They walked parallel to it for several yards, hidden behind greenery, until they stepped through a small break.

A floater waited for them, filled with supplies.

The guards ushered him in. Ren sat between them in the front, which was infinitely better than riding in the back among the cargo.

“Where are you taking me?” Ren asked. He set his shackled hands in his lap; the chain curled on the seat.

Oz gave him a blank look and the question went unanswered.

Oz drove the floater across the flat landscape. Ren hadn’t seen the land around the castle, other than the front approach, but now he made sure to catalog what he saw. Plains stretched for miles, though off toward the horizon, Ren could see rolling hills that grew into mountains. And in the distance, Ren saw a ship take off and shoot into the atmosphere. He tracked the white trail arcing through the blue sky before it burned away toward space.

Not for the first time, Ren wished he were aboard.

They rode for about an hour, following the curves of the road, until a building appeared in front of them. It was surrounded by a chained fence, and a cluster of smaller buildings sat nearby. Oz spoke into the comm on his wrist.

“Requesting entrance to compound, code: comet. Over.”

A voice crackled back. “Wait for confirmation. Over.”

There was a long silence until the voice came back over the comm. “Entrance granted. Gate opening in five. Out.”

Ren counted to five in his head, and on the mark, the gate slowly rolled open.

Oz maneuvered the floater through the opening and toward the large building. After powering down, the guards led Ren inside.

“It’s a hangar,” he said.

A row of ships stretched in front of him, different shapes and sizes, all heavily equipped. They gleamed in the sunlight pouring in through the high windows. Ren stared in awe.

“You’re to help fix them.”

Ren laughed. “Fix them? I’ve never been on one. How am I supposed to fix them?”

Oz crossed his arms, his biceps bulged. “The same way you fix the tech in the courtyard. Figure it out.”

The other guard thrust a piece of paper at him. “Here’s a list for the lancer over there. It’s everything you need to do. Report to the other engineer on board. You will assist.”

Ren’s mouth dropped open as he gingerly took the piece of paper. “I know you must think I’m good at my job, but I don’t know how to fix,” he looked down at the sheet, “a starboard propulsion thruster.”

Oz rolled his eyes and blew out a breath, obviously annoyed. He shoved Ren in the shoulder. “Report to the engineer—Janus.”

Ren clutched the paper and walked toward the first ship. A lancer is what the guard had called it. It was obviously military grade, from the plating and the weapons array fixed to the outside. Ren had never seen a ship up close before. His mother had forbid him to visit the space docks near his village, but he had seen ships in books and the occasional holovid. This one was bigger than a personal transport or merchant ship, but smaller than a freighter. A small door in the hull stood open, and Ren tentatively climbed the ramp and entered.

Ren had dreamed for years about being on a ship. Now he was here, he didn’t want to be. He never thought he’d rather be at home than walking into a ship, but here he was.

Ren stepped into an open space, which looked like an engineering section. Tools were strewn everywhere. Wires hung out of open circuit boards. It was a mess.

“Hello,” he called, voice echoing. “I’m here to report to the engineer.”

There was a rustle nearby and Ren stepped toward the sound cautiously.

“Hello?”

“Idle your engines,” a voice snapped back.

Ren tapped his foot and waited. Soon, he heard more noise, and then a woman popped up from underneath a console. She was short, with wiry gray hair, and wore large goggles, which enlarged her blue eyes. She wore an outfit like the guards, but without the body armor. Her shrewd gaze swept over Ren’s frame, and Ren felt her scrutiny much as he had felt Abiathar’s. It took every bit of his resolve not to twitch.

“For cog’s sake, they sent me another duster. And just what am I supposed to do with you?”

Ren shrunk away. Her voice was sharp and loud, like a dagger in the ear, and her mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed. Ren crinkled the paper; sweat from his palm moistened it.

She bustled forward and snatched the sheet.

“Useless giving you that. Stupid guards. Well? Can you strip wires? Do you know how?”

“Yes,” Ren said.

“Good.” She pointed to a table filled with metal parts. Wires stuck out everywhere. “Sit there. Pull out all the wires from that heap and strip them all. Don’t talk.”

He moved and his shackles clinked.

She scrunched her nose and, quick as a snake, grabbed the chain that hung between his wrists.

“Shackled, huh? Did you try to run away?”

Ren shook his head.

“Well, what did you do to earn them? Speak, boy.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“What? Surely you did something.”

Ren shrugged. “My cuffs fell off in the courtyard.”

She stiffened and backed away, moving slowly, hand up. Her face drained of all color. “One of those, huh? Worse than a duster.”

Confused, Ren rubbed a hand over his brow, feeling a headache blossom behind his eyes. Janus made a small noise at the sudden movement.

“Listen to me,” she said, sharply. “Go over there and don’t touch anything. Strip those wires, and when you’re done you go on back to the castle. I don’t want your kind here. Abiathar may think he can control you, but I know better.”

Clearly, this woman was a fuse short. Ren raised his hands in supplication and walked to the table. He sat on a stool and started working, keeping his head down as he disassembled a large piece of tech. He felt her hot gaze on him for a long time.

Salvaging the parts for wires from the dead parts took much longer than Ren thought it would. By the end, his fingers hurt from manipulating the small pieces of metal and small cuts were scattered all over his hands, but he did have a large pile of stripped wire to show for it. He flexed his fingers and grimaced at the sting. His first time on a ship and he absolutely hated every minute.

“I’m done,” he said.

Janus, who had been working on another project, startled at his voice. She snapped her head up, her eyes comically large behind the goggles.

“Good. Leave. Don’t touch anything.”

Ren was tempted to trail his fingers over everything as he walked out, but didn’t. He kept his hands in fists with his fingers tucked toward his palms. With his luck, one foolish gesture would have him in serious trouble, and Janus was paranoid enough. He didn’t need to provoke her, though he really had no idea why.

Leaving the ship, Ren cast one last look over his shoulder, and Janus watched him with lips pressed together.

He waved. She flinched.

And Ren hid a smile as he descended the steps to the hangar floor. He found Oz chatting with a group of people, guards and workers judging by their uniforms.

“I’m done,” Ren said.

“Good.” Oz handed him a sandwich and a canteen full of water. “Eat. Drink. It’s already late, so we’ll stay here for the night and you can work here again tomorrow.”

His stomach growling, Ren bit into the food. The sandwich had meat and cheese, two things he didn’t get much of at the castle. He had to slow down to keep from devouring it. But then Oz’s words sunk in, and Ren’s heart dropped. If he didn’t go back tonight, Asher might think something happened to him, that he wouldn’t be coming back. And despite their rough beginning, Asher had become his friend. He couldn’t let him think he was alone again.

“Uh…” Ren said, around a mouthful of food. “The engineer lady really doesn’t want me here. She wouldn’t let me touch anything and she kept watching me. I think I hindered more than I helped.”

Oz sighed. “Stars, that woman. She’s paranoid about everything. Sit here. I’ll go talk to her.”

Ren found a chair and sat in it while he polished off the sandwich. He drank from the canteen, long, slow draughts of the sweet water. It was cold, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk water that wasn’t lukewarm—and then only a cupful at a time.

Once the canteen was empty, Ren pulled his legs into the chair and surveyed the hangar. His first impression hadn’t been far off. It was a large building with several ships in a row, all waiting to be fixed. A few workmen moved about, but it wasn’t fully staffed by any means, not if the Baron wanted these ships in the air anytime soon. Especially not with a spacer like Janus running things.

Ren heard yelling, one of the voices being Oz’s, and then he heard Oz stomping down the lane between the ships toward Ren. His hands were clenched at his sides. A wayward curl escaped from his hair pin and bounced erratically on his forehead; his expression was extremely annoyed.

“Come on,” he said, gruffly. “We’re leaving.”

Ren stood and looped the canteen over his shoulder. He followed Oz outside and to the floater. It was nearing dusk and, with the hour ride, it would be late by the time they reached the castle, later than Ren was usually back in his cell.

Asher would worry.

“I don’t know what the hell you said to her, but, stars, that woman does not like you. I’ll have to talk with Abiathar about your assignment.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Oz grunted.

They rode back in silence, and because the other guard stayed behind, Ren was able to sprawl in the seat. He was half asleep by the time Oz parked the floater. They climbed out and Ren again followed Oz to the siege tunnel.

Ren thought about escaping. This was as good a chance as any. He could possibly take Oz from behind. His shackles were heavy enough to render Oz unconscious. But then what? He had no provisions, other than an empty canteen. And he couldn’t leave Sorcha, Jakob, and Asher behind. And as Asher had said, to where would he run?

No, it wasn’t time yet. He would hold off and hope his time would come soon.

The courtyard was empty when they passed through; the quiet and stillness seemed odd.

Again, when Ren was led back to the cell, he counted the turns and the steps and only made one mistake. He was getting better. He was sure he’d be able to do it on his own soon. It was one step closer to getting out.

When they arrived at the dungeon, Asher was on his feet, pacing the small length of his cell. He snapped his head up when Ren entered, and Ren could hear the sigh of relief. Asher waited impatiently as Oz unlocked Ren’s shackles and took the canteen, but once Oz was gone, he crossed to their shared wall and reached through. He grabbed Ren’s arm, right above his elbow, and squeezed.

“I was scared you were gone. That you weren’t coming back.” Asher’s face was paler than normal; his green eyes were wide and worried. His grip was just on the edge of painful.

Ren smiled softly. He patted Asher’s hand. It was the first time they had touched, and Ren would have sworn he felt a spark when he touched Asher’s skin. But he was tired, so he chalked the feeling up to being relieved he was back in his cell. And how funny was it that Ren was beginning to think of these stone walls as home?

“I knew you would think that,” he said. “It’s why I made sure they brought me back tonight.”

“Where have you been?”

“It’s been a long day,” Ren said. He nodded toward the corner. “Let’s get comfortable first, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Asher’s cheeks flushed as his gaze dropped to where he clutched Ren. He dropped his hand and pulled it back through the grid.

“Sorry,” he said, choked. “I was worried.”

“I was worried too.”

Ren pulled his mattress from the far corner and positioned it along the grid. Asher did the same. Ren collapsed, pulled off his boots and sat back against the stone with his side pressed to the length of their shared wall. Asher mirrored his pose, and if the iron had not separated them, they would have been pressed together from shoulders to toes.

“They took me outside the castle,” Ren said. “I thought I wasn’t coming back.”

Asher shifted. “Where did you go?”

“A hangar. They wanted me to work on ships even though I’d never even set foot on one before. There was this weird engineer. She was scared of me. I have no idea why. I think it had something to do with the shackles.”

Asher turned to him and brow furrowed. “Ships? What kind of ships?”

“Military, I think. I only know what I’ve seen in books and vids, but they had weapons.”

“Are you sure they were ships? They could break atmo?”

“I know I’m a stupid duster, but I know what a ship is, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Asher snapped back. “There’s a difference between ships that would be used on the planet versus those that would go out into space. I understand why the Baron would need the former, but not the latter.”

Ren let his head thump back against the stone. He thought back to the list Oz had thrust at him. “These were definitely spaceworthy,” he said. “One of the systems that needed to be fixed was an artificial gravity stabilizer.”

“Stars,” Asher said quietly. He rubbed a hand over his face, pushing the limp strands of his blond hair out of his eyes. “Stars, Ren. What if he means to go after the drifts? What if your little planet was only the beginning?”

“But you said he only had four of the five fiefs under his control.”

“Yes, but that was a year ago. A lot can change in a year.” Asher pulled his knees to his chest. “It makes sense,” he muttered. “Why he would need people like you.”

“Like me? Why me?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, people mechanically inclined. To fix the ships.”

“You’re worse than they are,” Ren said, pointing toward the force field. “I don’t know how anyone thinks I can fix tech, much less fix ships I’ve never set foot on. I don’t understand any of this. I sometimes think I’m the only sane person around here.”

The corner of Asher’s mouth lifted into a smile. He shook his head. “That’s not likely.”

Ren crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Asher knew something and he wasn’t telling. In fact, Ren had a feeling he was the only one kept in the dark.

The smile dropped from Asher’s face, as if he’d had a realization. “I have to get out of here,” he said quietly. “I have to warn them. I have to warn my mother. The drifts won’t be prepared.”

“Won’t be prepared for some duster Baron?”

“If the Phoenix Corps isn’t alerted in time, they won’t be. My presence here is keeping the Corps from even knowing what is going on. They’re vulnerable. I have to get out of here.” Asher turned to look at Ren, his eyes piercing Ren to the core. “Tell me you’ve been planning.”

Ren flushed hot under the intense gaze. “Yes. I’ve been observing. I have pieces of a plan. I just need to put it all together.”

“Good. We’ll do it. And you and I and your friends are going to get out of here, together.”

Ren smiled. “All right.”

“Okay, now, tell me what you know.”

* * *

Ren told Asher about the siege tunnel. He told him how the courtyard was empty at night. And he told him about how he’d memorized the way out of the dungeon.

“That’s all I have so far. We have to figure out a way to break out of here and then get through the force field and door of the siege tunnel. And then a way to cross the landscape without being seen.”

“It’s a start,” Asher said. Arms crossed behind his head, he stretched out on his mattress. “If anyone can figure a way out of here, it’s you.”

Ren snorted. “What happened to me being an idiot duster?”

“You know I don’t think that. Well, not now, anyway.”

“Jerk,” Ren said with a laugh.

Asher sobered. “You’re smart, Ren. And you haven’t given up yet despite the odds. You’ll find a way.”

Ren lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, flattered Asher would think of him as smart and determined.

“We’ll leave together,” he said. “You’ll see the sun again.”

Asher moaned. “I’ve missed the sun. You have no idea.”

Ren laughed. He didn’t know why they hadn’t moved their mattresses to the common wall before. The closeness was nice, reassuring, and Ren took comfort in the sound of Asher shifting around on his mattress and his slow, even breaths.

“Tell me another one of your stories,” Asher said, sounding as if on the edge of sleep. “One about space.”

Ren rolled to his back. “Why? You grew up in space. I doubt it will be entertaining.”

Reaching through the grid, Asher lazily poked Ren in the side. Ren squirmed away, ticklish.

“Come on, humor me.”

“Fine,” Ren sighed. “My mother told this one about men who broke the sky. I don’t remember it completely because she only told it a few times and only when Liam wasn’t around. I think she was scared of upsetting him.”

Asher nodded and gestured for Ren to go on.

“Once upon a time,” Ren began. As he talked, the environment changed, the air became heavy, all sound muted save for his voice. Even the hum of the force field sounded far away. For a moment, it was only them, no worry about what the world held for them beyond the four walls of the cell or beyond the atmosphere. It was just one boy telling a story to another.

“There were star hosts who had the ability to merge with machines. They grew powerful. Their consciousness intermingled with ships and weapons and slowly they became more machines than men.”

Ren stared at the ceiling, but he didn’t see it. He imagined the night sky above him.

“The more they interfaced, the more dangerous they became. Cold and calculating, more reason than emotion, they lost their humanity. As with Cassandra, they were slowly driven insane. Turning on their human counterparts, they started a war.”

Ren took a breath.

“It was brutal. Heavy casualties on both sides. A swath of space became so saturated with debris it became unnavigable. My mother called it the Perilous Space. The machine men were wiped out, so they say.” After a minute, Ren said softly, “Sorry for the depressing story.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to hear it. It’s interesting.” Asher’s voice was equally quiet, lending to the intimacy of the moment.

“All the stories my mother used to tell us about the star hosts ended with a tragedy. Do you think they were destined to go insane?”

“I don’t know,” Asher said. “It must be difficult to have that much power contained in a body not meant for it.” He looked Ren over, his gaze sweeping up and down Ren’s slim frame. “But other than being star hosts, both stories have a similarity.”

“What’s that?”

“They were alone.”

Ren was surprised at Asher’s insightfulness. And he was right. Cassandra wasn’t believed and died alone, and the machine men had cut themselves off from humanity. They didn’t have companionship from family, or friends, or lovers.

“Huh,” Ren said. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I am,” Asher said, sticking his chin out playfully. “I’m always right. You should know that by now. And you should remember it when I’m trying to rescue you.”

Ren groaned. The spell broke, the circumstances of their world rushed back in. “You’re horrible.”

“Yes, I’m that too.”

Ren pushed his toes through the slats and dug them into Asher’s leg. “I’m going to sleep. Try not to rescue me while I’m sleeping.”

Asher laughed. “Sure thing, damsel.”

“Shut up.”

“Night,” Asher said, chuckling.

Ren rolled over and curled into a ball. He fell asleep smiling.

%

The next day found Ren back in a floater heading out to the hangar, smooshed between Oz and a big, burly guard Ren hadn’t seen before. The big guy, Art, laughed a lot and draped his heavy arm across Ren’s shoulders.

Ren disliked him immediately.

But Ren wasn’t looking forward to any part of the day. Oz had arrived at his cell in the morning stating that Abiathar wanted Ren back at the ships despite Janus’s protests. And now, tucked into Art’s side with his hot breath on the side of Ren’s neck and his meaty hand wrapped around Ren’s shoulder, Ren cursed his luck. His frustration grew with every minute.

Once at the hangar, Ren broke away from the two guards and entered the lancer. Irritation was a heavy feeling in his chest.

“Reporting for work,” Ren said, his tone heavily laced with annoyance.

Janus popped up from a console she had been working under, goggles on her face, gray hair sticking up everywhere. “You!” she snapped. “I told you not to come back.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “It’s not my choice. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”

“Where are your guards? I told the dumb one not to bring you back, Abiathar’s orders be damned. I don’t want your kind working on these ships.”

She poked a finger hard into Ren’s chest, and he staggered back and rubbed his hand over the spot.

“What the stars do you mean by ‘my kind’?”

“You don’t know?” She laughed, almost hysterical. “You’re more dangerous than I thought. You can’t try to control it if you don’t even know what you are.”

Ren frowned. His tolerance for the cryptic nonsense everyone had spouted since he arrived was gone. He took a step toward the hull, and Janus stiffened.

“Don’t,” she barked.

“Don’t what? Touch it? What will happen, huh?”

Her face paled, and her chest heaved. “You don’t know what you’re capable of.”

Ren laughed. “I’m capable of nothing. I’m a duster, planet-born with very limited experience with tech. You have no reason to be frightened of me.”

He moved closer to the hull, hand outstretched, fingers splayed.

She whimpered. “Please, don’t.”

Ren slammed his hand against the hull. His fingertips left greasy marks on the shiny surface. As he predicted, nothing happened.

He turned back to Janus. “See? Nothing–”

His words tangled in his throat, cut off, because suddenly, Ren was consumed with power, rushing from his toes to his fingertips. A blue tint clouded his vision, and his body suffused with golden warmth. And then he was floating amongst the wires, connected to the ship, to the energy source, to everything. The lancer pulsed under his skin, woven in his veins, its systems integrated with his senses.

It was freeing and frightening.

His consciousness raced along the circuits and he could fix it. He could fix everything. He found the twist of wires in the artificial gravity system and bypassed it. He found the broken circuits in the air recyclers and, with a pulse of power, refurbished them. He saw the static in the comm system, a physical entity, and he cleared it away with a brush of his metaphysical hand.

The longer Ren floated through the ship, the less connected he was to his physical body. He didn’t need his body. He was free here. He moved around with ease; the wires and the systems were his route, and the more he pushed, the more he felt the other ships, too. They were nearby, on the edge of his perception, and he could go to those, he could jump to the other ones and repair them.

He could.

He could.

Suddenly, he slammed violently back in his body, his consciousness rushed in and he found himself on the floor, looking up at the ceiling of the ship. His back ached from where he had hit the deck plate, and Oz stood over him, looking worried and afraid.

Ren shivered, and his chest heaved as though he hadn’t breathed in days. He was covered in a sticky sweat. His limbs were overly heavy; the shackles pulled his hands to the deck. He could barely move.

“What happened?” he breathed.

“Ask him,” Janus shouted. “Ask him. Ask him now.”

Oz visibly steeled himself. “A man tells you everything he speaks is a lie. Is it a truth or a lie?”

Ren shook his head, trying to clear the static. The question made no sense. “It’s a paradox?” he said, though his answer sounded more like a question.

Oz blew out a breath. “Yes. It’s a paradox.”

Laughing wildly, Janus pointed her finger at Ren. “I warned you. I warned you both.”

Oz helped Ren to his feet, his hands under Ren’s arms, but Ren’s knees buckled even with the support.

“I was… I was in the ship,” Ren said. He barely believed it, but the way Oz looked at him, and the way Janus shook her head, he knew it was true. “What… what am I?”

“You’re trouble. You’re a liability. You need to go.”

Ren leaned hard into the strength of Oz’s body. His head lolled on Oz’s shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

“Come on,” Oz said, dragging Ren toward the exit. “Let’s get you back to the citadel.”

“Did you tackle me?” Ren asked as Oz helped him down the stairs to the hangar floor.

“Yes. I broke the connection.”

Ren wanted to ask why, but he was drained. His body ached all over and he missed the freedom of the machine. He longed for it, to be free of his lanky, uncoordinated mortal self. His joints creaked, his body felt bulky and, when he looked at his hands and flexed his fingers, they felt foreign, detached.

“I feel strange,” he said, as Oz loaded him into the floater.

Oz didn’t say anything. His expression was pinched; his eyebrows were drawn together. He started the floater, leaving Art to deal with Janus, and drove them back to the castle.

Ren slumped into the seat. Eyelids heavy, he watched the landscape zip by, but he existed in a daze. Time meant nothing. His body meant nothing. His circumstances meant nothing.

Ren’s fingers drifted toward the metal of the floater. It was a machine. He could merge with it. He could fix the catch in the engine. He could repair the front starboard thruster, which wasn’t running at full capacity. All it would take was a brush of Ren’s fingers, and he could run free along the circuits.

“Hands in your lap,” Oz barked.

Ren roused from his stupor and realized his hand was hovering in front of him, and his fingertips were but a hair’s breadth away from touching the casing.

He dropped his hands in his lap, threaded his fingers together and gripped them hard.

“Keep your wits about you. At least until I can get you back in your cell.”

Ren nodded. Yes, he had to stay awake. He couldn’t doze off. He opened his eyes wide, concentrated on the countryside and counted the trees and bushes. He was up to seventy-three when Oz pulled the floater to a stop.

“Can you walk?”

Ren turned his head. His mind buzzed. His skin tingled. His legs felt disconnected from his body. He took too long to respond, because by the time an answer formed in his head, Oz had pulled him out of floater and tossed Ren over his shoulder.

Ren hung limply. Oz’s shoulder dug into his stomach. Blood rushed to his head and his vision blurred.

“What happened?” Asher’s voice cut through Ren’s haze and he became more alert. He had missed the entire walk back to the dungeon, and Asher sounded absolutely panicked.

Ren heard Oz unlock the cell. Then he went from hanging upside down to being tossed onto the hay mattress. He lay there and waited as Oz unlocked the cuffs.

Asher hovered nearby, hands curled around the iron, looking down on Ren, concerned.

“Ren?” he asked. “Ren? Ren talk to me. What did you do? What happened?” He looked to Oz. “What did you do?”

“Ask him. I have to report.”

Oz left, and the force field engaged behind him. Its hum was loud in Ren’s ears.

“Ren?” Asher said. He knelt next to the wall. He shoved his arm through the slats and gripped Ren’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Asher’s voice and his touch grounded Ren, and the buzz in his head fell away. The desire to fuse with any available tech dimmed to an annoying twinge instead of a consuming fire.

“Ren?” Asher said softly.

Ren looked at Asher. “I’m exhausted.”

Asher swallowed. “Get some rest then. I’ll be right here.”

Reaching up, Ren patted Asher’s hand. The spark was more pronounced this time, but Ren ignored it. “Okay.”

“Go to sleep, duster.”

Ren smiled and gave in to sleep.

* * *

Ren slept the rest of the night and didn’t wake until Oz clanged open the door to his cell. When Ren stood to accept the shackles onto his wrists, he glanced at Asher.

He looked paler than normal, and dark circles stood stark under his eyes.

“Did you stay awake all night?”

“Someone had to make sure you were breathing.”

“Thank you.”

Asher offered a wan smile. “Don’t worry about it. You be careful today, okay? And make sure you come back. You have to tell me what happened.”

“I will.” Oz yanked on Ren’s chain, and he stumbled out of the cell. “See you in a few hours, Ash.”

Ren left the cell and walked the corridors to the courtyard. He didn’t bother counting the turns. His mind was still too fuzzy. He doubted he would get much work done.

“Are you taking me back to the ships?”

“No,” Oz said. “You’re not going to go back there for a while. It’s the courtyard today for you.”

Relief washed over him. He remembered the want that had coursed through him and he didn’t know if he could control it if he was on the ship. Small tech seemed a much safer bet.

Ren sat on his stool and surveyed the piles of broken tech.

Tentatively, he picked up a prod.

“Hey, Oz,” he said. “I want to try something. Be ready to knock me on my butt again.”

Oz snorted, but he nodded, his eyes fixed on Ren.

Ren took a breath and closed his eyes. He pushed at the prod, and his fingers tingled. He felt a surge of heat wrapping him in warmth from his middle to his shoulder and down his arm. It wasn’t like when Abiathar made him unlock the cuffs. He wasn’t being commanded. He did this on his own. He understood that now.

Ren imagined his power as a stream, and his will was a dam, a solid wall that held back the vastness of a lake. He could control a tendril. And he did, wielding the power with ease, seeking out the damaged parts of the prod. There was a loose connection in the energy source, and Ren mended it, using his mind to tighten down the joining. The prod sparked to life in his hand.

With considerable effort, Ren disentangled from the circuits and, when he was back within his organic self, he opened his eyes.

He gasped and dropped the prod. Oz eyed him with suspicion, while Ren’s pulse raced and he gulped down air.

“You need to learn to breathe when you do that,” Oz said. “You almost turned blue.”

“How long was I out?”

“A minute, maybe more.”

Ren took stock. He felt a little odd, but not nearly as bad as the day before. His hands tingled, but everything was attached. He was winded, as if he had beaten Liam in a footrace, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t recover from. He licked his lips.

“Can I have water?”

Oz shrugged. “Sure. I’ll get you a canteen.” He took a step, but paused. “Don’t do any more until I get back.”

“Good idea.”

Ren dropped the prod into a crate and picked up a comm. He studied it for a moment, twirled it in his fingertips.

Whatever this was… whatever Ren could do… he was going to master it and he was going to use it to escape. And he was going to take Asher and Sorcha and Jakob with him. He cocked his head as he observed the courtyard: the young boys carrying buckets, the reluctant soldiers training, the girls scrubbing dishes while guards leered. No, he was going to take them all with him.

6

Ren practiced for most of the morning and afternoon. He was careful not to overexert himself, but by the end of the day, his hands trembled and a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. He drank two canteens of water. Evidently thirst was a side effect of using his gift. He wolfed down his lunch, which was brought to him by a kitchen girl. The recruits had left the courtyard, and the quiet allowed Ren to concentrate.

Though he’d thought he wouldn’t accomplish much, his pile of broken tech dwindled, and by dinnertime, he had one comm left to fix. He held it in his palm, took a breath and closed his eyes.

A commotion broke out near the main gate.

Ren snapped his eyes open. The recruits bustled back in with guards surrounding them, shouting at them to get into the courtyard, their prods and stunners at the ready. Ren heard “deserter” and “escape,” but the words mingled in the cacophony, and he couldn’t tell if it was guards or recruits who muttered them.

“What’s going on?” he asked Oz.

Oz shook his head. “I don’t know. Stay put. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Ren sat quietly. Oz was right. Ren didn’t want attention, especially now that he planned to use his gift as a means of escape.

However, all thoughts of not getting involved vanished when the last of the guards dragged in a bloodied Jakob, his hands bound in front of him, his feet tripping over the paving stones.

“Oh no,” Ren breathed.

He shot to his feet when they pulled Jakob onto the raised platform and kicked his legs out from under him. Jakob dropped to his knees with his head bowed and blood running in a steady stream down the side of his face. He looked a far cry from the boy Ren knew in his village. His cheeks had hollowed, and his clothes were tattered. Slouched forward, he was humbled in a way he never would’ve been back home.

“We have a deserter,” one of the guards on the platform yelled. The boom of his voice forced silence onto the courtyard. “This boy tried to sneak away from his post. General Abiathar will determine his punishment.”

Panic and sweat prickled Ren’s skin. He moved from behind his table to stand in front of it, though still separated from the crowd. Oz grabbed his arm and Ren shook him off, casting a glare in his direction.

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s good as dead. Don’t be stupid, Ren. You can’t do anything.”

Ren stood there, hands shackled, brown eyes wide as Abiathar emerged from within the keep and ascended the stairs. Dressed all in black, he looked like a shadow, except for the steel gray of his hair and beard. He walked a loop around Jakob, staring down at him like a buzzard lazily circling a corpse.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked, polished black boot nudging Jakob’s side. “What was so important you risked your life and the lives of your fellow villagers?”

Jakob raised his head. His voice wavered. “I want to go home.”

Each word pierced Ren to his core. His eyes filled with tears and his throat went tight. He couldn’t swallow the grief and the homesickness fast enough, and it spilled over in a wet gasp. He knew how Jakob felt, knew intimately the yearning for home, how it could fill every crevice until it consumed his thoughts. Ren had been trying to find a way. But he wasn’t fast enough. He hadn’t been fast enough.

“Home? You have no home.” Abiathar turned his piercing gaze to the crowd. “I warned you about the punishment for attempting escape. This boy must be an example for the rest of you. I hate to lose a potential soldier, but if his death will strengthen the resolve of the rest of you, so be it.”

“Death” rang in Ren’s head. Jakob was going to die.

“No!” Ren yelled.

He lunged forward, but Oz grabbed his arms and every head in the courtyard turned at his outburst. Even Jakob lifted his head. Ren fought against Oz’s grip, but he held fast, his fingers digging hard into the flesh of Ren’s arms.

“No! Don’t touch him! Please!”

Ren’s chains clanked as he hung in Oz’s grip, but he didn’t stop struggling, not even when Abiathar turned his predator’s eyes on him. Gaze locked on Ren as he thrashed, Abiathar lifted his fingers and gestured to the guards. They activated their prods so electricity sparked at the ends.

Ren ripped his arms away from Oz, just to be caught in another guard’s grip with a bicep like iron clamped across his chest. There were two on him now, and Oz’s voice echoed in his ears, urging him to stop, to calm down, but Ren couldn’t. He couldn’t. He had promised.

The guards on the stage inched their prods closer to Jakob. Ren managed to knock one of his captors down, but another took his place.

Time stopped when the sparking ends touched Jakob’s skin. He screamed. The sound stabbed through Ren. Jakob writhed. The electricity arched over him; its blue tangles streaked across his body, flashed from his open mouth.

Tears spilled over Ren’s cheeks. Sorcha’s scream wove with Jakob’s cries, horrific in intensity and anguish.

Ren had failed. He had failed, and he sagged in the guards’ grip, sobbing, yelling, still fighting.

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 slithered 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.

Asher made a noise in his throat. “Your eyes are tinted blue.”

“My eyes are brown,” Ren said, automatically.

“Not right now they’re not. What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been working on getting us out of here. Or don’t you want to escape?” Ren snapped back, lingering irritation crawling up his spine.

“I do, but not at your expense.” Asher leaned on the bars and wrapped his fingers around the iron. “Ren,” he said, softly, “You’ve been overdoing it, using too much of your power.”

Sighing, Ren pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids and saw the electricity reflected there.

“Why do you think that?” Ren asked.

“You’re not yourself.” Asher’s tone was steady and sure.

He was right, and it made sense: the lack of empathy, the calculating way Ren was considering their escape, the barrier he felt between him and the others. “I was a cog to Sorcha. Like a big one.”

Asher let out a relieved chuckle. “She’ll forgive you.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t worry about it now. Get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Ren dropped his hands and blinked. Asher’s companionship had banished the last of the star’s influence. He sat on the mattress and leaned against the wall, kicking out his legs. “Hey, it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Tell me a story.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I want to hear one. Take my mind off everything.”

“Well, I do have a good one about my sister and me accidentally setting off a ventilation alarm on our home drift.”

“I want to hear all about it.”

Asher launched into his story; the cadence of his voice soothed Ren’s turmoil. And for a while, he allowed himself to relax and set aside the burdens that rested on his shoulders.

* * *

“Abiathar wants to see you,” Oz said, as he entered the dungeon the next morning.

Ren shot up from his mattress. “What?”

“You heard me. He wants to talk to you. Probably about you going supernova in the courtyard the other day.”

Asher and Ren exchanged a worried glance. Asher stepped forward and wrapped his hands around the bars.

“Are you going to bring him back?” he asked, thickly. He sounded scared, and Ren knew the feeling.

“I don’t know. Sorry.”

Ren pulled on his boots. He adjusted his threadbare shirt and brushed off his trousers. He pushed his brown hair out of his face. He desperately needed a haircut and a bath, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He walked out of the cell and held out his arms for the shackles.

He turned to Asher. “I’ll come back. I will.”

“You better,” Asher said, forcing a grin. It didn’t reach his eyes, and Ren ached with the worry he saw there.

Before he left, he stood in front of Asher’s cell and leaned close with his voice pitched low, “Sorcha is going to come tonight. If I’m not back, you know what to do.”

“I won’t. Not without you.”

“You will,” Ren said. “You have to. For Liam. Promise me.”

Asher nodded. “I’ll try. I promise.”

“Good.”

Ren followed Oz out of the dungeon. However, instead of going to the courtyard, Oz took him a different route into the keep. Ren tried to keep track of the turns and corridors, but his attention strayed to thoughts of what awaited him.

The castle was far bigger than Ren had thought. Electric lights illuminated their way, and tapestries hung from the walls. The hallways widened as they approached the center of the keep, and the rooms became larger.

They stopped in front of an ornate wooden door, and Oz knocked twice before stepping back.

“Enter.”

Oz opened the door. He squeezed Ren’s shoulder in a surprising gesture of friendship.

Ren didn’t get a chance to process Oz’s actions before he was beckoned over the threshold. Cautiously, he entered the room.

Abiathar had a large polished desk with a high-backed chair behind it. Rugs carpeted the floor. Tapestries adorned the walls. And Abiathar sat at his desk, looking down as he wrote on a techpad. The glow highlighted his hawkish features. He finished with a tap and a flourish, then raised his head to stare at Ren. His eyes pierced Ren to his core.

“Sit,” he said.

Ren inched forward and sat in one of the plush chairs facing Abiathar’s desk. He kept his back straight and his legs under him, on guard, though he knew he could do nothing against Abiathar. The chain of his shackles hung between his knees.

“No need to be frightened,” Abiathar said, folding his fingers together. “I merely wanted to speak with you about the incident in the courtyard.”

Jakob, Ren wanted to say. When you killed my friend, Jakob. He kept his lips pressed together.

“It was an impressive display. You managed to disable quite a few devices.”

“It was an accident.”

Abiathar pursed his lips. “Of that, I am sure.” He heaved a breath. “Do you know what you are?”

Ren studied one of the tapestries on the wall. It showed a battle. A man on a horse charged through an army, sword slicing through the air. To his left rode a sorcerer, bedecked in robes, with lightning forking from his spread fingers and dark clouds swirling overhead.

“No,” Ren lied.

“You are a technopath. A powerful one. I’ve never seen one able to merge with machines from a distance. All the others have to be touching the object they wish to manipulate.”

Ren snapped his gaze back to Abiathar. “Others?”

“You’re not the only one in the Baron’s service.”

Ren knew of the girl who had been in the cell before him, but Asher hadn’t mentioned others. How many were there?

“Captured, you mean.”

His eyes narrowed. “Drafted. You and your fellow villagers are assisting a great man to reach his destiny. You should be proud your powers will be used to bring forth a new world.”

“If he’s so great, where is he? Huh? And why can’t he do it himself?”

“It is not your place to question.”

“Then what is my place? To die in your war?”

Abiathar leaned back in his chair. “You are to be reassigned. You will be on the first wave of ships to bring justice to the corrupt Drift Alliance.”

“I won’t.” Ren gripped the arm rests of his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. “I won’t do it.”

“You will.”

“I won’t.”

Abiathar clenched his jaw. His eyes glinted brighter, and, when he spoke, the words crawled down Ren’s spine.

“You will. I will compel you.”

Ren gasped. As before, Abiathar’s voice slithered into his ear, and for a moment, Ren would. He would. He’d do anything Abiathar asked.

When the voice dissipated, Ren shook his head and stared at Abiathar.

“Your trick. You’re a star host too. Aren’t you? It’s how you can get into my head.”

“It’s called suggestion. And I will bend you to my will when the time comes. For now, however, you will be kept in the castle until such time as you will join your comrades on the ships.” Abiathar pressed a comm. “Come collect the boy and take him to his new quarters.”

When the guard opened the door, Ren stood and was waved away by Abiathar as he returned to his techpad. The guard wasn’t one Ren knew, and she grabbed Ren’s chain and yanked, causing him to stumble on his way out of the door.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To your quarters.”

“Wait,” Ren dug in his heels, yanked back on the chain. “I want to go say goodbye to my friend in the dungeon.”

The guard laughed. “No way, kid.”

“But—”

“No,” she said, gripping his wrist and hauling him forward. “We all saw what you did. Do you think I’m stupid? Come on.”

She dragged him down the corridor and stopped at a thick double door. She disabled the force field, then pulled out a heavy iron key for the lock. Once the door was open, she shoved Ren in with a push to the center of his back.

“Enjoy your new home,” she said with a smug smile before she pulled the door shut. Ren heard the key and then the hum of the field rising into place.

* * *

The new room was more spacious than the cell, even opulant in comparison. There was a bed instead of just a mattress, and plush carpets lay over the stone. A table held fruit and a pitcher of water, and a low fire crackled in a hearth, fending off the spring chill. However, as nice as it was, it was still a prison.

Ren tried the door, but no jiggling of the iron would loosen it. He could hear the hum of the force field. He could disable that, but he could do nothing about the lock itself.

Despair washed through him. Hours had passed since he was locked in. Dinner had come and gone and the sun had set, which meant Sorcha had already freed Asher. But they would not be able to access the siege tunnel without the code to the fields. And without Ren, they wouldn’t get far. He ached at the thought of possibly having sent his two friends to their deaths.

But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He had to find his own way out, or he would become part of the Baron’s machine of war, and much sooner than he had thought. He walked around the room, checked the desk drawers and peered out the lone window. He found nothing that could help. He brushed back a tapestry, and lightly pressed his fingertips to the stone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed out, but he only felt the lights embedded in the walls, and even those circuits were dimmed by the massive amount of material between them.

Ren blinked back frustrated tears. Escape appeared impossible.

Slumping down into a chair, he took an apple from the fruit dish and bit into it. At least the food was better. He had grown tired of stale bread and stew.

As he took another bite, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. He heard the force field power down and then the jangle of keys, and then the sound of the tumblers of the lock turning. He stood and waited, wondering if his time had already come.

The door swung open, and Oz stepped in. He pushed the door closed behind him and flipped the lock, effectively bolting them in.

“What are you doing?”

Oz quickly crossed the room and grabbed Ren by the upper arm. He dragged him to the door and pulled out his prod.

“Disable me.”

“What?” Ren looked down at the shiny black handle of the weapon, but made no move to take it.

Oz shoved it toward him. “Take it. Shock me. And then steal my keys and go.”

Ren flinched away; the dormant end of the prod grazed his stomach. “What? No. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Take it!” Oz demanded. Expression pleading, he looked at Ren and dropped his voice. “You need to get Asher and get out of here. Abiathar is going to destroy you. Understand? He will burn you up until you’ve depleted your speck of star or he will drive you to insanity. Either way, this doesn’t end well for you.”

Ren licked his dry lips and gingerly took the weapon. His hands shook. This was his chance, but he was terrified. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you deserve better.”

“Come with us,” Ren said. His voice cracked, beseeching. “You can help us.”

Oz took a deep breath and shook his head. “I can’t risk it. My family… it would put them in danger. At least here, I can keep an eye on them. I can help them. I can’t do that if I run.” Oz guided the end of the prod to his ribs and placed the tip there. “I’ll tell them you wrestled it away from me and took the keys.”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t have much time. Abiathar is going to cart you off-world in the morning. If you want to escape, you need to do it now.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

Oz grinned softly. “How about not sparking me too hard?”

“Okay. Okay,” Ren said. He ghosted his thumb over the switch. “Thank you,” he said and then he pressed the trigger. He allowed only a short burst, but it was enough to send Oz to the ground, body arching with the current. He writhed for a moment, then stilled, eyes closed, breathing shallow, but only stunned.

Ren dropped the prod, and it clattered to the stone. With shaking hands and apologies tumbling from his lips, he took the keys from Oz’s belt and gave his friend’s shoulder one last squeeze before he stood. He unlocked his shackles. The heavy weight fell from his wrists, and it felt like freedom.

With one last apology to Oz, Ren shoved the keys into his pocket. He ran over to the bed and shook the pillow out of the linen pillow case. Then he bounded to the table and dumped the bowl of fruit into the case and twisted one end shut. He would have to keep an eye out for a canteen along the way.

After unlocking the door, Ren cautiously peeked around the frame. Seeing no one in the corridor, he stepped out. He closed the door behind him and started down the hallway. He didn’t know this part of the keep, and he hadn’t been paying much attention when he was brought to his new room, but he did know force fields were used to separate the keep from the servant areas. And he knew how their energy signatures felt. If he could find one, it could lead to a way out.

He crept along, placing his hand on the stone, dimming the lights to elongate the shadows. Fingertips trailing, he reached out with his ability every few feet, searching for the familiar hum and crackle of energy.

The process was slow, and several times Ren, pulse racing, palms clammy, sweat prickling along the back of his neck, ducked into a crevice or behind a heavy tapestry when he heard voices. If he was caught, he didn’t think he’d share the same fate as Jakob. Abiathar called him valuable, but he was certain the punishment, if not fatal, would be far from pleasant.

Fervent voices echoed along with hurried steps, and Ren quickly ducked behind a curtain.

“We have to find him. I’m not leaving without him.”

“I agree, but we should think this through.”

Ren moved the curtain to the side. He recognized those voices.

“We don’t have time. It’s already been too long since the guard took him. He could be gone or worse, hurt,” Asher said, gesturing wildly, turning the corner. Sorcha walked next to him; her head barely came up to Asher’s shoulder.

Ren could’ve wept at the sight of them.

He moved the curtain aside and stepped into their path. “It’s about time,” he said, grinning widely.

Asher yanked Sorcha behind him and dropped into a low crouch. A kitchen knife glinted in his grip. He blinked, then straightened.

“Ren?”

“In the flesh,” he said, arms open, smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “I see you two have met and managed to get free.”

Asher straightened from his defensive pose. “Thank the stars.” He grabbed Ren into a firm hug, strong arms wrapping around his frame. Ren returned the embrace, happy and relieved, and thankful, finally, for a bright spot along the dark path his life had taken.

Asher disengaged, his fingers gripping Ren’s shoulder. His gaze swept from Ren’s feet to his head. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you? What did Abiathar want?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we’re on our way out of this place.”

“Good idea,” Sorcha piped up. She stepped around Asher, took the bag of fruit from Ren’s hand and threaded her fingers with his. “Let’s go.” She tugged. “This way.”

“How do you know?

“I’ve had to learn to deliver food around the castle. This is the way.”

Ren gladly allowed Sorcha to lead them out of the keep. She didn’t let go of Ren’s hand and Ren reached behind him and took Asher’s as well, forming a chain. He took comfort in Asher’s strong grip and his warm skin as they navigated their way to the courtyard.

There, Ren was surprised to see a small gathering of girls and boys huddled in an alcove.

“From the kitchens,” Sorcha clarified.

She beckoned them out and they shuffled over.

“Are we really escaping?” one asked.

Ren and Asher exchanged a quick look. Ren was glad they were no longer holding hands, because Asher would feel the clamminess of his palms, the anxiety building in his core.

Pulling his shoulders back, Asher addressed the group as a leader would. “Yes. Right now.”

Mindy stepped forward, eyeing the three of them. “My brother is in the barracks. I’m not leaving without him.”

“You won’t have to,” Sorcha said. She passed the bag of fruit to another girl and pulled out a set of keys. “Is there a force field on the door?”

Mindy shook her head. “Good. Mindy and I will go. You two,” Sorcha said, pointing a finger at Ren and Asher, “start leading the rest of them out.”

“Meet us at the siege tunnel door,” Ren said.

They split up. Asher and Ren led the small group across the dark courtyard. Ren was not worried about running into guards. When Oz had brought him back from the hangar, no one had been walking about but them.

Ren allowed himself the luxury of observing Asher. He moved purposefully, with his back straight and his head held high so the starlight glinted off his blond hair. As they walked side by side, Ren noted that Asher was slightly taller and broader in the shoulders, and that the only indication he had spent the last year in a cell was the hollow line of his cheeks and the paleness of his skin.

“Are you all right?” Ren whispered as they moved quietly into the corridor with the siege tunnel door.

Asher raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s your first time out in a year. You might be a little nervous.”

“I’m Phoenix Corps. I don’t get nervous.”

“Well, I’m nervous,” Ren said. “I’m actually terrified this won’t work and we’re leading all these people to their deaths.”

Ren was close enough to see Asher smile slightly, though he kept alert, his gaze darting about. “Have a little faith,” he said, quietly.

“This from the guy who told me to give up.”

“Yes, well, I may have seen the error of my ways. There was this annoying duster in the cell next to me who wouldn’t shut up about escaping. He may have influenced me a bit.”

Ren flushed, pleased and embarrassed, the heat of it working up the back of his neck.

They stopped at the wrought iron door. With fumbling fingers, as adrenaline pulsed in Ren’s veins, he tried the first key on Oz’s ring. It didn’t fit. Neither did the second or the third. The crowd behind him grew anxious; their murmurs increased in volume and intensity.

“Be quiet,” Asher whispered sharply.

The fourth key slid in, and Ren heard the tumbler of the lock engage. He blew out a relieved breath and unlocked the door. Wincing as the hinges creaked, Ren pulled it open, Asher assisting, his body a wall of heat and comfort at Ren’s shoulder.

As they opened the door, revealing the force field, Sorcha arrived with a large group of recruits. Ren felt the tension of the people waiting behind him, errand boys, kitchen girls and recruits all standing and waiting, with freedom a palpable possibility.

“You can do this,” Asher said, as Ren pressed his fingers to the control panel for the field.

Taking a deep breath, Ren closed his eyes and searched for the switch to the energy source. He found it quickly and turned off the force field. It powered down, the crackling hum receded, but another field lay at the end of the tunnel. Ren could feel the fine buzz of it trembling down his bones.

The whispers around him grew, but he blocked them out and focused on the distant whine of the circuits nestled in the stone. Fueled by fear, Ren allowed the tendril of power to turn into a stream, and he was racing along the wires to the end of the tunnel. He could see the blue flicker of the field and feel the static, and with a thought, the field dropped.

Pulling back down the tunnel was difficult, but he managed it, and when he opened his eyes, it took a few blinks before the courtyard was no longer tinged blue.

Asher stared at him, something akin to awe written in his features.

“I did it,” Ren said. He shoved the keys into Asher’s hands. “Go. Lead the others down.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t worry.”

Asher gripped the keys. He turned to the group behind him. “Follow me. Once you hit the outside, scatter.”

“There’s a small wood,” Ren added. “South of here. It’s not far. It’s harder to be caught in the trees.”

Asher ducked into the opening and disappeared down the tunnel. One by one the others followed. The procession was slow going due to the cramped space. Ren stood by the door, arms crossed, keeping watch, looking for any movement from the other entrances to the courtyard. He regretted leaving Oz’s prod, but he guessed he’d be all right without it. He could make them malfunction at will.

Sorcha came and stood beside him.

“I can’t believe we’re going home,” she whispered.

Her words sank in and Ren inwardly cringed. “I’m not going home.”

Sorcha rounded on him, her mouth twisted in a frown. She shoved him in the shoulder. “What do you mean you’re not going home? What about your mother? What about Liam?”

“You will have to tell them I’m all right. But I can’t go back. Abiathar will follow me and it will put them and you in danger.”

“But where are you going to go?”

“With Asher.”

She stuck out her chin. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“You can’t, Sorcha. You have to go back to the village. You have to warn them.”

“It’s true then? What Asher told me about the five fiefs and about them wanting to use you to attack the drifts?”

“It is. It’s why I have to go with him. And you have to make the council listen to you.” Ren rested his hands on her shoulders. “You have to tell Jakob’s family.”

Sorcha sniffed and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. She took a breath, then nodded. “Okay. I can do it. But,” she said, punching Ren in the arm, “you have to come back. Promise me you’ll come back after whatever it is you have to do.”

Rubbing the sore spot, Ren smiled softly. “Okay. I will. Hey, tell Liam for me—” A commotion on the other side of the courtyard cut Ren off. A handful of guards burst out of the passageway from the keep, spilling into the square. Weapons out, they pointed at the open siege door and started yelling. A warning bell clanged from a tower, alerting everyone to the escape.

“There they are!”

“Stop them!”

“Cogs,” Ren breathed. He pushed his way through the line and yelled down the tunnel. “Go faster! Guards are coming.”

The line of captives collapsed into the tunnel and Sorcha and Ren packed the younger kids in. The first stunner blast missed and hit next to the door, sending chips of stone raining down on the group. The second blast caught a former recruit in the back. He toppled forward, and Sorcha caught him around the waist.

“Go!” Ren yelled, ducking from another shot, the electricity crackling in the air, the smell of ozone thick. “Go. Take him and go!”

Sorcha didn’t protest. With help from another girl, they dragged the incapacitated boy into the tunnel. They were the last of the line. Ren stepped in. He slammed his hand down on the control pad and urged the force field to sizzle back to life, just in time for an energy blast to smash into it. Ren flinched, but the field merely shimmered; blue veins of energy spidered out along the barrier. A guard ran forward and skidded to a stop. He angrily smacked his fist against the field, but it held fast.

Connected to the system, Ren accessed the password and changed the code to a random sequence. It would take them some time to follow, but that didn’t mean they weren’t already utilizing other exits. And Ren could do nothing about those.

He turned and ran down the tunnel, and at the end, he found Asher helping Sorcha through.

“There you are,” Asher said, grasping Ren’s arm and yanking him out on the other side. “Took you long enough.”

“We need to hurry. Guards are right behind us.”

Asher handed the keys and the kitchen knife to Sorcha. “Just in case,” he said, and she slipped them into her apron pocket.

“This is where we part ways,” she said. She gave Ren a hug. “Be careful. I’ll see you soon.”

Ren hugged her back.

She let go and then hugged Asher, who stiffened. She kissed his cheek. “Take care of him.”

And then she turned and followed the others as they disappeared in the line of brush. And she was gone.

Ren watched the space where she disappeared for a long moment before looking back to Asher.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ren nodded. He took a breath, and together he and Asher ran.

7

The chaos of several groups of former captives splintering in different directions allowed Asher and Ren to flee across the open countryside. While the majority of their companions headed for the tree line pursued by floaters and guards, Ren and Asher ran for the rolling hills. They sprinted away from the back of the castle with the glow from the broken moon of Erden and the stars their guiding light. Their route was the opposite direction from where Ren and the villagers were brought in, and Ren made sure they also veered away from the direction of the hangar. He didn’t want to risk encountering anyone associated with the Baron or Abiathar while he and Asher made their way toward a spaceport.

Cutting across the landscape, they managed to ditch the lone contingent that followed them by finding a copse of trees and barreling through it, using low-hanging branches, the new spring growth and shadows as cover. They darted through the saplings and old trees, avoiding stunner blasts by tracking the sporadic light they emitted. They ran until the sounds of electric charges and yells from the guards faded, and the only noise was their steps in the bracken and their own harsh breathing.

They fled until the morning sun breached the horizon, spilling light across the land like molten gold, and only then did they stop.

Asher doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping. Sweat glistened in his hairline and wet the fabric of his shirt. Ren wasn’t much better. His clothes clung to his body, his feet ached and his hands bled from stumbling in the dark and scraping the rough bark of trees. His chest heaved as he fought for breath.

“I’m dying,” Asher said between pants. “Go on without me.”

Ren would have laughed if he had been able. “Never. You didn’t leave me. I won’t leave you. Even if your physical stamina fails.”

“I’m so out of shape. My superiors would be disappointed if they saw me now. Weak and winded like a spacer used to low gravity.”

“Good thing they’re not around.”

Asher cracked a smile. “Good thing.” He straightened, wobbled and leaned hard against a tree. Ren mirrored the pose, legs shaking.

“We need to find water.”

Ren licked his dry lips. “In a minute. I don’t think I can move now that I’ve stopped.”

“A few minutes,” Asher agreed. He tipped his head back and sucked in a lungful of air. “It’s been a year. It’s like a dream,” he said, smiling softly. “I never thought I’d be happy breathing in unrecycled air, planet-side, while standing in a beam of radiation, but here I am.”

The sunlight glinted on the strands of Asher’s gold hair, caressed the slopes of his face, the line of his nose, the pout of his mouth, and Ren couldn’t help but think he looked otherworldly. Ren’s mother had often told him of angels, beings that descended from the heavens, and in that moment, luminous and beautiful, Asher met the description.

Ren looked away, studied the sun-dappled landscape, and squinted to see if there was an obvious water source nearby. In the distance, he saw a flash and a sparkle along the ground.

“Over there,” he said with a nod, too tired to raise his arm and point. “I think I see a stream.”

“Excellent.” Asher pushed off from the tree. “We need to keep moving. Abiathar is going to look for you, and the sooner we find a spaceport, the better.”

Ren followed on wobbly legs, feeling like a newborn lamb, gangly and uncoordinated, especially next to Asher’s military stride. They found the water, a muddy puddle near the roots of a tree, and stared at it. Asher wrinkled his nose.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“I don’t know when we’ll find water again,” Ren said, feeling as unenthusiastic as Asher looked. “We’re dehydrated already from the run. We shouldn’t risk passing it by.”

“We shouldn’t risk drinking it.”

“Take it from the duster,” Ren said, kneeling to the ground. “It’s probably safe.”

“That doesn’t sound confident at all.”

Ren dipped his finger in the water. It was tepid and the silt stirred at his touch, turning the water even browner. He stood. “Okay, you’re right, I’m not drinking—”

The sound of voices nearby had Ren swallowing his words, and Asher wrapping his arms around Ren’s frame and pulling him down behind a tangle of bushes. Ren bit his lip to keep the squawk of surprise from tumbling out of his mouth.

They crouched together, hidden in the itchy twigs. Asher put a finger to his mouth and gestured toward where the voices were gaining in volume. Heart thumping hard, legs trembling, Ren watched and waited, desperately hoping the voices didn’t come from the Baron’s guards.

When they came into view, Ren released the breath he’d been holding and Asher shot him a wary glance.

The villagers wore work clothes and hats and held old bolt-action rifles. It was a hunting party, scaring up game, probably for a summer celebration for their village. Their conversation centered on bagging a deer or a few rabbits, maybe a quail.

Ren shifted, about to stand, but Asher grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip, fingers digging into Ren’s flesh, surely leaving bruises. Asher shook his head.

Confused, Ren tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Ren and Asher could ask for help or directions to the nearest space dock. The villagers could help, and it wasn’t as if they were agents of the Baron—their speech and their clothes attested to that.

Asher glared, jaw clenched, mouth in a firm line. He shook his head again, and pointed his finger at the ground.

Ren hunched further. Together, they waited for the hunters to move on. The group walked past Ren and Asher’s hiding spot, laughing about someone’s wife’s cooking, not noticing them. Ren didn’t have high hopes for their hunting expedition.

After their voices and the crunch of their footsteps faded, Asher pulled Ren up with him. Ren tried not to stumble; his joints ached from crouching so long.

“They could’ve helped us,” Ren said. He didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but exhaustion and thirst and hunger affected his tone. “We could use their comms to send a message to your sister.”

“The fewer people who know about us, the better. Especially you. Abiathar will have guards combing the countryside looking for a technopath. Villagers might not remember the specifics of your appearance, but they will remember a stranger. That’s the only clue Abiathar will need to track us down.” Asher began moving, stepping over a fallen log. “Also, they’ll be scanning all frequencies. Any message we send will have to be coded.”

Ren scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt, feeling every inch the stereotype of a naïve duster. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, that’s why you have me. Come on, their town must be that way,” Asher said, pointing in the direction the hunters had come from. “And a village means water.”

Ren’s throat ached at the thought of cool, clean water, and they set off together with renewed vigor in their steps.

* * *

They found the village, and a stream that ran along its perimeter. They also found an unguarded clothesline with shirts and trousers flapping in the breeze, and Ren felt only slightly guilty when they stole freshly laundered outfits. There was also a bucket nearby with a cake of soap, which Ren snatched as well.

“Good thinking about the soap,” Asher said, as he scrubbed his hands through his hair, soap frothing in the strands. He rubbed the hinge of his jaw, where a scruffy line had grown since the last time the guards had allowed him to shave. “We’ll be much less conspicuous if we’re bathed and wearing decent clothes when we get to the space dock.” Asher ducked his head in the stream and gasped, shivering when he tossed back his wet hair. His identification tags gleamed in the light and bounced as he moved, clinking delicately.

The stream wasn’t swift or deep, but it was cold, especially in the shaded, secluded place Ren and Asher had found to bathe.

Ren gingerly stripped off his shirt. He knelt beside the water and splashed it over his arms and chest while goosebumps bloomed over his skin. The stream was refreshing, and Ren scrubbed off the reek of captivity with fervor. Asher did the same. His skin was pale, except for the angry red scar that ran from his collarbone over his shoulder and sliced through the black ink of the Phoenix Corps tattoo on his shoulder blade. Ren had caught Asher grimacing in pain from time to time while in the cells, and now, as he watched Asher gingerly roll his shoulder while water sluiced over his skin, he remembered the spark he had felt when he touched Asher’s hand.

“I wasn’t thinking about being presentable,” Ren admitted, catching the soap Asher tossed his way. “I just didn’t want to stink anymore.”

Asher laughed for the first time since they had escaped, and it was loud and brash. “Stars, this feels good. I wish it wasn’t so cold.”

Ren rubbed the soap over his skin and remembered when he last saw Liam, how they had splashed in the cool lake—their first time that spring.

“The last time I saw my brother,” Ren said, sticking his feet in the water, “we had gone swimming in the lake. It was too cold to stay in long, but we were stupid and impatient.” Ren frowned. “He went home before me because he didn’t want to sit around and hear me whine about not being able to go to the space dock near our home. The floaters came, and I went looking for him. He managed to get away.”

“That’s how Abiathar knew you were different, right?”

“The prods didn’t work,” Ren said. “But they captured me anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Asher said. “But on the bright side, you did meet me.”

Laughing, Ren slapped his hand in the water and splashed Asher, sending droplets spilling over his chest. “You are so arrogant,” Ren said. “Are all drifters like you or are you special?”

“You are going to find out soon enough. I’m not going to ruin the surprise.”

Excitement warred with guilt in Ren’s mind. Here was the chance he so desperately wanted, to leave the planet, yet the circumstances were less than ideal. “I hope so. I can’t wait to get off this stars-forsaken planet.”

“Soon,” Asher said. “We’ll find a space dock and get a message to my sister. She’ll buy us passage or she’ll come get us herself, and we’ll be blasting off this planet quicker than a York Drift minute.”

Ren had no idea what that meant, but he liked the sound of it.

%

Three days of wandering around the countryside and Ren was exhausted. He was also hungry, and he lamented that he had given away his pillow case of fruit so many days ago. Nuts and the overripe fruit they foraged weren’t enough for them to subside on, especially with the energy they burned traveling on foot. He followed Asher, stumbling occasionally through the underbrush, leaning on trees to rest before pushing off and carrying on.

They hadn’t stopped moving since they’d escaped the castle, except once for a long nap in the dead of night, squished uncomfortably together in a hollowed-out tree. Ren had slept like the dead and could’ve kept sleeping, but Asher spurred him on. And Ren understood. The likelihood of their recapture increased the longer they stayed on the planet.

Asher was undaunted in his quest to reach a spaceport. While Ren shared the sentiment, he wavered, mentally and physically unable to keep up with a Phoenix Corps-trained soldier even though Asher had spent the last year in a cell. At least they knew the general direction, having seen the contrails of ships leaving atmo.

Ren felt more like himself. Without tech to merge with, Ren was once again connected to his body, corporeal, steady, even if it was so sore and so hungry he could barely keep going.

Eyes half-closed, too tired to raise his head, Ren overlooked the dip in the road. He tripped and fell to his knees; the fabric of his stolen pants ripped and the skin underneath was scraped by the gravel of the path. They had emerged from the forest yesterday and now traveled in open country. The rolling hills and valleys were murder on Ren’s legs. They walked on a footpath next to the road. Even in the dying light of day, it was dangerous for two fugitives, but necessary. They had only encountered a few horse-drawn carts and one hovercraft thus far, and they had heard all of them in time to duck into the ravine that ran parallel to their route.

Ren swayed. He tried to gather his legs under himself.

“I can’t,” he said.

Asher stopped. He came to stand by Ren’s side. “Get up. A little farther.”

Ren shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Asher gripped Ren’s bicep. He yanked Ren upward, and Ren pushed. Asher maneuvered them so Ren’s arm was slung over his shoulder and his was wrapped around Ren’s waist. “I know you’re tired.”

Ren’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “Understatement.”

“Yeah, okay, but look up.”

Ren raised his head and blinked. He squinted in the orange sunset. In the distance, he could see the gleam of metal and the tall columns of towers scraping the wispy clouds. As he stared, a speck of a ship eased down through the sky and another rocketed through the atmo, leaving a white trail in its wake.

“A space dock.”

“See?” Asher said. “We’ll be there in a few hours. Then, I promise you can rest. We’ll find a spot to sack out while we wait for my sister.”

Ren took a wobbly step forward. “I can do this.”

“Yes. Yes, you can. Come on, Ren. A bit farther.”

They walked twined together, and Ren realized Asher’s pep talk wasn’t for his benefit alone. The longer they moved, the heavier Asher became, and he could feel Asher’s fatigue in the tremble of his muscles and the heavy tread of his steps. Only once did they need to hide, and they collapsed in the ravine, hidden amongst tall grasses as the hover carriage passed.

It took monumental effort to stand again and continue on their way.

Finally, in the small hours of the morning, they stood on a gentle slope overlooking the spaceport. Despite the hour, lights flashed brightly, and it teemed with people and activity; drifters and spacers did not follow Erden’s clock.

“Almost there,” Asher breathed. He rubbed his shoulder and winced.

Ren breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t wait for a bed and food and water.

“What are we waiting for?” Ren croaked.

Asher mustered a smile. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

They crept down the slope, and as they approached the entrance, they both looked for any sign of the Baron’s guards. If he did indeed rule all five fiefs, there might be a contingent nearby, especially near a space dock. However, Ren and Asher spotted none near the entrance.

“Act like you belong here,” Asher said, as they approached. “But don’t talk. Leave that to me.”

Ren didn’t argue.

They walked through the metal archway, and Ren had half a second to admire the structure, the flashing signs, the booths of wares, the bustle of the people, before they both pulled up short. Just inside was a group of the Baron’s soldiers, prods strapped to their waists, comms pinned to their uniforms, some wearing body armor and helmets, others carrying stunners. They talked and laughed, barely glancing as Ren and Asher walked in.

“Plan B,” Asher whispered harshly, “keep your head down, keep walking, and we find a ship that is taking passengers and get the hell on it.”

“What about your sister? We can’t afford passage.”

“We’ll figure something else out. We can’t stay here,” Asher said. He grabbed Ren by the back of his shirt and dragged him to an information kiosk.

Asher pulled up the dock manifest, quickly scrolling through the names of ships, their length of stay, their destination and if they were accepting passengers. Ren kept his hands curled into fists by his side. As tired as he was, with the sudden appearance of tech the tendril of power reached out, searching for anything to latch onto, and he wrestled it back with a grimace, teeth clenched. Everything buzzed or hummed or clicked and the noise traveled up from the soles of Ren’s feet to settle in his chest. He was a conduit; the star’s power ached to burst from his fingertips, and he shook to keep it in check, but as hard as he fought, it slipped out, like a leak in a pipe.

“There,” Asher said, pointing to a name. “The Nomad. Slip twenty. Destination Nineveh Drift, taking passengers and leaving in the next six hours. That’s our ride.” He looked up and stopped short. “Your eyes.”

Ren squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry, it’s overwhelming.”

“Stars. I should’ve realized. We should have rested before we came.”

“No, no we would’ve missed the Nomad. I can control it. I can.”

Ren took a deep breath, calmed his racing heart and opened his eyes. It didn’t work. Everything was tinged blue.

“Cogs,” Asher said, voice low. He reached out and touched Ren’s hand.

It was the wrong thing to do, and Ren gasped. His power raced up Asher’s arm and into his shoulder. Asher snatched his hand away and looked at Ren as if he were something to be in awe of, afraid of.

“Your shoulder is tech,” Ren said, voice a raspy croak.

Mouth open, eyes wide, Asher rubbed his hand. He gulped once, then squared his shoulders and passed a hand over his face, and what Ren now recognized as Asher’s Phoenix Corps expression slipped into place. “We’re drawing attention.”

Ren glanced at the Baron’s contingent and saw two of them staring in his direction. Ren looked away, but not before they started to cross the space between them and move toward the info kiosk.

Stars, he needed to pull it together. He imagined shoving a stopper in the power leak, cutting off the stream. It hurt. He trembled and let out a whimper, and he knew bottling it up was going to be trouble in the end, but for the moment, it was what he needed to do.

“We need to go,” Asher said. “Act normal and walk away slowly.”

Ren nodded.

He and Asher turned and started walking down the line of slips, intermingling with the crowd, trying to blend in.

“Hey you!” one of the soldiers yelled.

Ren kept walking.

“You! Skinny guy, with the brown hair. I order you to stop!”

“I think they mean me,” Ren said to Asher.

“Don’t stop. Go a little faster.” They picked up their pace, knocking into people as they went, moving as quickly as they could short of sprinting.

“Hey! I said stop.”

The sound of a stunner charging was distinct despite the noise of the bustling station, and Asher gripped Ren’s wrist. He made sure to keep a layer of cloth between his touch and Ren’s skin.

“Run,” Asher whispered harshly.

They took off, ignoring the shouts of the guards behind them, weaving in and out of the crowd, ducking around merchant stalls. Fueled by adrenaline, Ren kept up with Asher, but they were unable to ditch the guards. They turned a corner, and Ren spied an alcove, a slim slit in the wall, hidden in shadow. He turned sharply and yanked Asher in after him.

The space was tiny, and Ren and Asher were aligned from shoulders to thighs, panting in the dark. Facing each other, pressed close, Ren could see the bruise-like circles under Asher’s eyes, the tired lines around his mouth and the fatigued set of his shoulders. The cut of his cheekbones was more pronounced after four days of constant movement and little food, but he remained alert, with his head turned to stare out of their small space.

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see them. They must’ve doubled back.”

“Come on. Let’s report to Abiathar. He’ll want to know.”

Ren held his breath as the soldiers passed their hiding place. Ren and Asher stayed a few more minutes, making sure they were really gone.

“Quick thinking,” Asher said.

Ren inwardly preened. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Not yet.” Asher’s expression was one of concern when he looked at Ren. “Almost. I haven’t forgotten my promise.”

Ren smiled. “And you keep those?”

“Always.”

They squeezed out of the space, and Ren’s head spun. He needed rest, food, and water, and he’d take them in any order.

“Come on. Slip twenty isn’t far.”

They stayed as alert as possible, avoiding anyone who wore anything resembling the Baron’s uniform, and slowly made their way to the Nomad.

It was a large ship, at least to Ren’s eyes, bigger than the lancer he had worked on in the hangar. There were no visible weapons, however, and the cargo bay acted as the entrance. Sitting at the end of the ramp was an older woman in coveralls. Her black hair was streaked with gray, and her smile was warm and friendly. She sat cross-legged on the ground, knitting needles in her dexterous hands.

She gave them a once-over as they approached. Ren wondered what they looked like to her. Two dusters looking for passage? Two fugitives, dead tired from running? A drifter and a technopath?

Her smile didn’t waver, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

“Can I help you?”

Asher stepped in front of Ren, angling his body to block her view of him. It was a protective gesture, and Ren was both annoyed and comforted by it.

“We would like passage to Nineveh.”

She set her knitting aside and stood. She was barefoot, and the patches on her worn coveralls were pictures of butterflies and kittens.

“Five hundred credits or coin,” she said with a smile. “Each.”

Asher cast a look over his shoulder at Ren. “We don’t have that much on us. But we can get it. After we get to Nineveh.”

“No deal.”

“Look,” Asher spread his hands, palms up. “We could really use some help. I can give you a thousand apiece once we get to the drift. That’s twice the potential fare of other passengers.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You two are cute, but no thanks. Ship doesn’t run on potential.”

Asher stuck out his chin and placed his hands on his hips. “Two thousand. Please.”

“Ah,” she said with a knowing nod. “You’re the troublemakers those soldiers were chasing, aren’t you? What do they have on you? Stealing? Murder? Piss someone off?”

“Nothing like that,” Ren piped up.

Asher glared over his shoulder and shook his head, a signal to shut up. The woman noticed. Her eyes softened.

“He your brother? Friend?” she asked. “Did he get into trouble, and now you’re here to try and get him out of it?”

“Something like that,” Asher said.

“You remind me of my boys. A little rough around the edges, but good boys just the same, and if they were in trouble, I’d hope someone would help them out. But the risk isn’t worth the reward. You gotta give me something other than a promise of coin.”

“I can fix your ship,” Ren blurted.

Asher’s look was murderous.

“Can you?” she asked, stepping forward. She ignored the way Asher’s whole body had stiffened, and the way his green eyes glittered dangerously. “You’ve worked on ships before?”

“Yes.” It technically wasn’t a lie.

“Our sensor array has been acting up recently. Think you can fix it?”

“Yes.”

She scratched her chin. “All right. We are leaving in six hours. You fix the array before we go, and you and your friend can have passage. And I will expect a thousand once we hit Nineveh. Apiece. Understand?”

“My friend has to rest first,” Asher interrupted. “But I think we can manage the deal.”

Her gaze flitted between them. “You both look a little worse for wear. You can share the empty crew quarters for a few hours. Then you fix the array,” she said, wagging her finger at Ren. “Or the deal’s off.”

Ren nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“All right. Up the stairs to the right. Third door. I’m Cass, by the way. You can call me Captain.”

“I’m Ash. This is Ren. Thank you, Captain.”

She stepped out of their way and gestured toward the stairs. “Welcome aboard, boys.”

Asher gripped Ren by the shoulder and they entered the expansive hold. Steering around a few boxes of cargo, Asher led Ren up metal stairs and into the crew hallway.

“Don’t touch anything,” he said, as they opened the third door.

The room was about the size of one of their cells, but there was a bed, with a mattress that didn’t smell like old hay. Ren swayed toward it, like a moth to moonlight.

Asher closed the door behind them.

“What the stars were you thinking?” His voice was quiet, but harsh; his eyebrows were drawn together. “Do you want everyone to know what you are?”

If Ren could have mustered indignation, he would’ve, but he was too exhausted and relieved to try. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Asher admitted, slumping. “Can you fix the array?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Yes, but you’re not doing it now. Rest for a few hours.”

Ren groaned. Rest. A bed. Sleep. It sounded wonderful, and he sagged heavily to the bed. With clumsy fingers, he undid the laces of his boots, and then kicked them off.

In the wall was a sink and Asher turned on the faucet. Clear water spewed out and he washed his hands, wiping off days’ worth of grime. Once his hands were clean, he cupped them and drank water right from the tap. He gulped it down; a trickle streamed from the side of his mouth and down his neck. In a daze, Ren tracked its progress.

“Drink first,” Asher said, pulling Ren forward by his shirt. Ren noticed that Asher had not touched his skin, not since Ren had felt the tech in his shoulder.

Ren washed, then drank and sighed in relief when the cool water slid down his parched throat. He drank until water sloshed uncomfortably in his empty belly.

“Rest,” Asher said, pushing Ren toward the bed. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

“You’re not going to sleep?”

“I’ll keep watch. We’re still on Erden. Who knows what can happen?”

Ren climbed on the bed and stretched out. It was like sleeping on a cloud, and he couldn’t believe their luck. There was even a pillow. “Are you sure? We can share.” He patted the space next to him, arm flopping, eyes already half-closed.

Asher laughed. “I’ll take you up on it in a little bit. Sleep so you can fix the array without glowing.”

Ren closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

He was asleep before he heard Asher’s response.

* * *

The pounding on the door woke Ren from a dead sleep. He sat up and looked about wildly, half expecting to see the rock walls and iron grid of the dungeon, and was surprised when he saw the smooth metal walls of the crew quarters.

Asher shot up where he had fallen asleep while keeping watch.

“We’re leaving in an hour,” Cass’s voice boomed. “That array needs to be ready or you’re being left behind.”

“Sure thing!” Ren yelled back, sounding much more awake than he felt.

Asher pushed the heel of his hand to his forehead and brushed back his blond locks. “What happened?” he asked, voice muzzy.

Ren smiled. “You fell asleep, Mister I’m-Keeping-Watch.”

“Stars,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’ve never fallen asleep on watch.”

Ren’s jaw cracked when he yawned. He stretched his arms over his head. “You’ve been awake for three days. It’s amazing we weren’t both hallucinating.”

“I’m not so sure we’re not. Are we really on a ship?” Asher spread his hand against the hull. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on one, I’m not sure.”

“Yes. We’ve made it.” Ren stood. He staggered and his head spun and his stomach growled, but it was the best he’d felt in days. He also felt in control. Well, more in control than he had a few hours ago. Everything still buzzed around him; his world was no longer silent, and if he wasn’t careful, he could inadvertently set something off, but at least he wasn’t unconsciously glowing. “And we’ll be fine as long as I fix the array. So, where is it located?”

“We’re screwed,” Asher deadpanned.

Ren rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers. “Technopath, remember. I can fix it.”

“Say it louder. I don’t think the guards who chased us heard you. And it’s on the bridge.” Asher heaved to his feet. “Let’s go. We don’t want to get thrown off.”

“Relax. Let me be the one who saves us this time.” Ren smirked. “I got this.”

* * *

“We’re screwed,” Ren whispered as they stepped onto the bridge.

It wasn’t that Ren didn’t think he could fix the array. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the bridge was filled with expectant people, waiting for Ren to work. Cass was there, as well as a man about her age and two other men who shared Cass’s features—her sons.

Asher shuffled closer to his side and dipped his head. “Make sure to close your eyes.”

Ren had never been on the bridge of a ship. And he took a moment to take it in, noted the position of the captain’s chair, the screen displaying information, the large window across the front, showing the landscape surrounding the dock. There was an open panel under a console, and Ren hoped it was where he was supposed to work.

“This is my husband, Cyril,” Cass said. “And my boys, Malachi and Zeke. They have some cargo to move, but I wanted you to meet them in case you saw them on the ship.”

Ren waved awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Zeke here opened up the panel for you so you can get to work. You’re cutting it awful close.”

“He’ll be fine.” Asher clasped Ren’s shoulder and gave him a little shove toward the console. “He’s a fast worker.”

“He better be, or you’ll both be staying on this dusty planet,” Cass said.

Malachi cracked his knuckles. The sons both stared at Asher, and Zeke brushed Asher’s shoulder as they walked past. Asher stumbled back as fatigue got the best of him.

Ren swallowed hard. “Well, then, I better get to it.”

Ren casually walked over to the panel. He squatted and studied the mass of wires, circuits and switches and had no clue what to do with any of them. The gazes of Cass and Cyril burned into the back of his neck, and sweat prickled along his hairline.

He looked over his shoulder at Asher. Asher gave him an affirming nod, and that was enough for Ren.

He scooted closer, making sure his back was to Cass and Cyril.

“Can you tell me what the problem was again?” he asked.

“It shorts out on long hauls,” Cyril said, his voice deep. “We pulled into Erden blind.”

“Ah, sounds like an overheating issue.” Ren had experienced that with the prods at the castle. If they were turned on continuously, they would burn out. This sounded much the same. “I just need to find the source of the energy surge. You might have a broken breaker.”

Ren did his best to sound confident. He hoped it worked. Remembering Asher’s warning to keep his eyes closed, he splayed his fingers and moved to press them into the circuits.

“Don’t you want some tools?” Cass asked.

Ren stopped short. “Uh… no?”

“Is that a question?”

“No,” Ren amended. “No, I think I can handle the problem.”

Before they could ask another question, Ren plunged his hand into the workings. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the stopper from the dam. His power gushed out, eager and potent, and suddenly Ren’s consciousness was surfing along the circuits, rushing through the sensor array. He found the problem easily. It was as he expected and, without much thought, he diverted the power around the broken areas, rerouted it and, while he was in there, increased efficiency.

But why stop there?

Ren floated through the systems. He found a hiccup in the air recyclers and, with a push and a flick, he soothed the problem. He flitted to the connection the ship had with the dock, scrolled through the information Cass and her family had downloaded and halted when he found the warrants for him and Asher. He read them, internally balking at being labeled dangerous. There was no mention of his ability, though, and Ren was certain Abiathar wanted to keep that information close to his chest. Most people thought that technopaths were mythical beings, and he wouldn’t want to advertise that one existed.

The pictures attached to the warrant were a drawing of Ren and a digital capture of Asher from the videos sent to his mother. Ren checked the time stamp. It had been downloaded only an hour ago, when Asher and Ren were sleeping.

They were in danger.

With effort, Ren pulled out of the system; he came back to his body in a surge. He stood and blinked until the room was no longer tinted blue.

He turned and forced a smile. “Try it now.”

Cyril was clearly dubious when he accessed the sensor array using the touch panel, but the tilt of his head and the twitch of his mouth told Ren he appreciated what he saw.

“Huh?” he said. “Looks good.”

“Excellent,” Asher said, clapping his hands. “So we have a deal then?”

Ren moved across the bridge, stood closer to Asher than was appropriate and bit his lip as Cass watched them, her hands on her hips. “Yes. We’ll take you on to Nineveh.”

“Great! Now, if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long day and would like to get more rest,” Ren said, tugging Asher toward the exit.

Cass narrowed her eyes. “That’s fine. We shove off in about an hour. We’ll have a meal at six ship’s time.”

Ren’s stomach cramped with the thought of food, but he ignored it. “Thanks. Until then.”

And he pulled Asher through the door.

They walked briskly down the hallway. Ren didn’t release Asher’s sleeve until they were safely in their room.

He took a deep breath. “They know,” he said simply. “Or someone knows. I don’t know which one.”

Asher drooped. He sat on the bed and rubbed a hand over his face. His posture screamed exhaustion, and the latest information seemed to have drained the last of Asher’s energy reserves.

“How?” he said, sounding defeated.

“Someone downloaded our warrants from the dock about an hour ago.”

“Cogs.” Asher slumped forward. “I don’t know what to do, Ren. We can’t stay at the dock, but if we stay here, they could turn us in.”

“I know.” He sat down next to Asher, determined to make the decision. Asher had been stalwart since they escaped, pushing Ren to the next step, taking care of him, making all the tough calls, and it was time for Ren to lift the burden. “I’ll send a message to your sister through their comm system. I can do it right now, just tell me what to say.”

“And then what? Even if we send a message, it won’t save us when the Baron’s soldiers come knocking on the door.”

“No, it won’t. But I can use the video feed and monitor the dock. If I see them coming, I’ll take the ship.”

Asher blinked. “I think I am hallucinating now. Did you say you’d take the ship?”

Ren puffed out his chest. “I can do it. I have access to everything, air locks, door locks, ventilation, artificial gravity, just by pressing my fingers to the hull. Now we’re here, we’ll be safe. I’ll make us safe.”

“And what about you? Do you remember how exhausted you were last time you merged with a ship? And that was when you had had a full night’s sleep. Or what about the personality transplant you had last time when you overdid it? You don’t think I remember when my friend dissociated?”

“Acceptable risks,” Ren said, firmly. “We have to get off this planet, and you’ve kept me safe thus far. Now, it’s my turn.”

Asher wilted. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re too stubborn and I’m too tired.”

“Good. Now, what do you want to tell your sister?”

Asher drafted a quick message and made sure to include an inside joke so she would know it was him. And with a touch of his fingers to the floor, Ren flickered into the comm system and wrote the message. He sent it out with a pulse, and he felt the information race out in a wave, hunting for Rowan Morgan, captain of the Star Stream.

Ren didn’t disconnect. Instead he folded down to the floor and leaned against the bed while he monitored the dock camera feed. It was odd, seeing the entrance to the ship from a different angle, watching Malachi and Zeke work as they loaded cargo and observing the individuals who walked by.

He saw soldiers, but they didn’t stop, didn’t even glance the Nomad’s way, and Ren breathed a huge sigh of relief when the doors to the bay closed. A few minutes later, he heard a knock on their door.

Ren pulled out of the systems to find Asher asleep. He ached to sleep too, but he didn’t dare, not until they left atmo. He stood, blinked away the blue hue and opened the door.

Cass stood on the other side.

“Can we talk?”

Ren leaned against the door. He blocked Cass’s view of Asher and nodded.

“I know who you are.”

“I know.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Why didn’t you turn us in?”

“Because I don’t believe the people who want you have good intentions. And I have a feeling I would have been in more trouble if I had.”

“Your feeling was right.”

“I thought so,” she said with a nod. “My husband and children don’t know. I expect you two to be model citizens while you are on board. I don’t want to think I’ve made a mistake.”

“We’ll stay out of your way.”

Cass turned to go but hesitated. “You’re special, aren’t you? Are you as powerful as I think you are?”

Ren didn’t see any reason to lie, but he hardly knew the truth himself. “I don’t know.”

“But you could kill us, if you wanted to. Right now.”

“Yes,” Ren said. A hollow feeling took up residence in his chest at that answer, but he could. It would be easy. And they’d have no way to stop him. Maybe he really was dangerous.

“You won’t, though.” She said it with such certainty, Ren was surprised.

It wasn’t a question, and Ren knew what Cass saw when she looked at him—a frightened, bedraggled teenager far from home, not a mythical star host.

“Not unless I have a reason.”

“Let’s hope one doesn’t come up.”

“Let’s hope.”

Ren closed the door. He locked it from the inside and delved into the mechanism to ensure he and Asher would sleep safely.

Asher lay sacked out, slumped awkwardly on the bed. Ren shook his shoulder gently and Asher rolled to the side, curling up, leaving a sliver of the mattress open. Ren kicked off his boots, took the blanket from the end of the bed and lay down along the line of Asher’s back. He draped the blanket over them and fell into a deep sleep.

8

The trip to Nineveh took several days. Ren slept for most of it, sometimes in the bed with Asher, other times on his own. He woke to eat with Cass’s family at the appointed times, then went back to sleep.

The first time they sat at the table and Malachi set a plate in front of him, filled with meat and vegetables, Ren dove in ferociously. He didn’t breathe, but shoved food into his mouth with his fingers and licked them clean. Asher was more restrained, but barely. Cass watched them with wide eyes, and offered them seconds with a tight smile. Ren got so full, he almost vomited.

Because of the extra rest, Ren’s power lay dormant, and Ren didn’t think he would explode by being on the ship. However, he kept his hands away from the hull and ensured there was a layer of fabric between his touch and Asher’s skin lest he hurt Asher’s already sore shoulder.

When Ren was awake, he vacillated between excitement and guilt. Being on the ship was everything he had dreamed of, and despite the need to be careful with his power, Ren brimmed with exhilaration every time he walked the halls of the vessel. He and Asher were not allowed on the bridge, and as Asher advised, stuck only to their room and the mess to keep from garnering any unwanted attention from Cyril and the brothers. But Ren took every opportunity to appreciate the engineering that had gone into the Nomad and its systems—the metal and circuits that navigated the cluster, produced the ship’s own gravity and protected the crew from the vacuum of space. There were no windows in the areas Asher and Ren frequented, but Ren could sense the vast, unending blanket of stars beyond the walls. It amazed and terrified him in equal measure.

Yet, much as he marveled at being where he had once wanted to be, Ren was not the same boy who’d lain on a beach and looked to the stars for his future. That naïve duster was gone, and in his place was the person who looked back at Ren from the grimy mirror above the sink. His hair was much longer, shaggy, brown and falling across his forehead, almost into his eyes. He was paler, gaunt; his brown eyes were filled with fear and remorse, not with the excitement that should accompany his first time on a ship. This boy had experienced grief and terror and guilt, emotions beyond the radar of the person Ren had been. However, despite everything that had happened and despite all the odds, Ren was on a ship heading for a drift, and that fact gave him hope.

Ren splashed water on his face and wiped the excess away with the end of his sleeve.

He turned to find Asher sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, staring hard at the communications console in the wall.

While Ren used their trip to sleep and recover, Asher waited for word from his sister. The fourth day into their route, and with their arrival imminent, he still had heard nothing.

Ren crossed the room, and climbed into the bunk. “Anything?”

Asher shook his head, his expression drawn. “Nothing yet.”

“She’ll respond.”

“I hope so.”

“Have a little faith,” Ren said, with a small smile. “We escaped a citadel, traveled across the countryside and found a ship headed to a drift. She’ll respond.”

Asher grinned. “Using my own words against me. I see how you work.”

“It’s a gift.”

Sighing, Asher stretched his legs out. “She better respond, or we’re going to owe Cass more than a fixed sensor array.”

“I could fix everything,” Ren said, flexing his fingers in front of him. “It’d be worth the credits. She already knows what I am.”

Ren had told Asher about the conversation with Cass, but only after they had crested the horizon into space and both had rested. Asher had been less than pleased.

He was still irritated, if the huff and the narrowing of his eyes were any indication. “You’re too careless. We’re lucky Cass was more interested in having her ship fixed than in turning you in.”

Ren leaned back on his elbows and bit back a yawn. “Faith, Ash. It applies to people too. She and her family are good people, if a little rough around the edges.”

“That’s spacers for you,” Asher said. “Still, we need to be more careful. The Baron isn’t the only person interested in star hosts. There are people who would do more than place a reward on your head. They’d leave a trail of bodies in their wake to get their hands on you.”

“You make it sound like I’m a valuable commodity.”

“You are. Imagine having, in your control, an individual who can manipulate any machine in the universe.”

“Huh,” Ren said, flopping back on the mattress. “Try being that individual.”

“No, thank you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I feel like too.”

Asher sighed. “Just think, in a few hours, we’ll be on a drift. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“Subtle change of subject.”

“I’m serious,” Asher said. He stretched out on the floor. Ren tossed him the pillow, and Asher shoved it under his head. “Granted, Nineveh isn’t the biggest drift by any means, but it’s nice, if I remember correctly. I’ll show you the amazing sights.”

“Sounds like a plan. That is, if we have the credits.”

Groaning, Asher rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

* * *

Several hours later, the Nomad docked at Nineveh. Ren and Asher stood in the cargo hold with Cass and her family.

“We’re here,” Cass said. “I expect my credits now.”

Ren fidgeted, but Asher answered for them, confident and terse. “You’ll have them. But I will need to leave to get them.”

“Well, then you won’t mind if your little friend stays with us until you come back.”

Asher reached beside him and grabbed Ren’s wrist, fingers encircling the joint over the sleeve of Ren’s shirt.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving without him.”

“And you’re crazy if you think I am going to let both of you leave.”

Asher’s grip tightened. Ren moved closer. He was about to offer to fix anything they wanted and maybe mention the glitch in their aft airlock, but a loud buzzer rang out, echoing in the large space.

Malachi moved to check the outer door.

“There’s a woman out there,” he said, simply.

Cass didn’t move her eyes from them, but she addressed her son. “Open the door.”

The bay doors creaked open slowly, and Ren’s gaze flickered between the standoff with Cass and the sliver of widening light as the doors parted. His pulse raced. Everything he dreamed of lay on the other side of those doors. He sucked in a breath when they revealed the drift. And in the spectacle beyond—the flashing signs, the bustle of diverse individuals, the general chaos—the woman stood out. She had her arms crossed; the toe of her black boot tapped on the shiny deck plate. Her long golden hair draped over her shoulder in a braid that tickled her waist. Strapped to her hip was a holster with a pulse gun in it, and the flat expression on her face told Ren she was as dangerous as the weapon implied.

She was beautiful and, like Asher, she reminded him of the stories his mother had told him of angels from the sky.

“Rowan?” Asher breathed.

She dropped her arms and utter relief flickered over her features. She stepped forward, mouth parted, Asher’s name on her lips.

Asher dropped Ren’s hand. The woman and Asher crashed together and wrapped their arms around each other. Her hand clasped the back of Asher’s neck and she held on, and Asher buried his face in her hair, though he had to bend over to do so.

“You’re here.”

“Of course I am, you idiot. I got your message.”

“You didn’t reply.”

“Because I didn’t know if you were safe.”

She broke away and held him at arm’s length. “What the stars are you wearing?”

Asher’s laugh, loud and happy, startled Ren in its intensity and joy. Asher wiped at his eyes. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, little brother. Now, who do I owe these credits to?”

Asher gestured to Cass. Rowan walked forward and handed Cass a card. “Two thousand credits.”

Cass plucked the card from Rowan’s hand and passed it off to Zeke. “Run it.”

Zeke took it to the computer by the bay door. He scanned it and, after a few tense moments, nodded his head.

“Thank you for returning my brother to me. We’re leaving now.”

Looping her arm with Asher’s, as if staking a claim, she nodded at Ren. “Come on, little one.”

“Wait just a minute,” Cass said. “I am thinking maybe two thousand is enough for your brother, but not quite enough for the techie.”

Ren froze, stomach sinking.

“Are you going back on your deal?” Rowan asked. She tapped her fingers along the handle of her pulser. “Because that’s generally frowned upon in the circles we both run in.”

Cass nodded toward her sons and the bay doors began to slide closed. Asher grabbed Ren’s wrist and tugged him to join Rowan’s side. Ren looked anxiously back at the door as the two halves creaked toward each other. They wouldn’t make it through.

“I transported an admittedly dangerous technopath for four days while his warrant was blasted all over the nearby planets and drifts. If anyone finds out he was traveling on my ship, I could be in serious trouble.”

“A risk you agreed to,” Asher pointed out. “You knew before we left the planet.”

The door clanged shut, and Malachi and Zeke moved to block them in. Asher turned to face the brothers while Rowan kept her body turned toward Cass and Cyril. Ren didn’t know what to do. He twisted his fingers together; fear welled in his throat. He didn’t want to be captured again, and as his heart beat faster, his power flickered to life in his gut. The ship hummed around him, and the more amped up Ren became, the more he could feel the vibrations of it in his skin.

“A risk I agreed to because of an implied threat.”

Rowan’s eyebrows twitched up. “The beanpole threatened you? With what? Eating all of your food for the journey?”

“You obviously don’t know what he is.”

“He’s a scared kid. And I’m not leaving here without him, but I sure as hell am not paying any more credits. So either you let us walk out of here or you’re going to have a problem.”

Cass crossed her arms. She looked at her boys, and they moved toward Asher. He dropped into a defensive crouch and Rowan pulled her weapon. The sound of metal scraping against the leather of her holster was loud in the tense silence. With a steady hand, she leveled the pulser at Cass.

“What was it you said about faith, Ren?” Asher bit out.

“I thought… I didn’t know.”

Panic crawled along Ren’s limbs, followed closely by the pulse of electricity. His hands shook; the control he had managed to gain over the course of the journey unraveled with each harsh breath. In a feedback loop, his anxiety combined with worry over inadvertently releasing his power, which fed into his heightened sensitivity to the ship and its systems.

“Stay calm, Ren,” Asher said. “You’re starting to glow.”

“I can’t,” he said, his breath coming in pants. He clenched his hands at his sides, but he knew that didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered in the courtyard with Jakob and it didn’t matter now as the dam splintered.

“Look, Cass,” Asher said, staring down Malachi and Zeke, “you’re about to have a problem if you don’t let us go. And as scary as she is, it’s not my sister.”

“You can leave. I’m not keeping you here,” Cass said. “But the boy stays.”

Ren blinked and his vision went blue. The ship vibrated around him. He could feel the mechanism for the door. It was their way out. He could reach it. He could. And then, he’d disable the engine and their communications. They wouldn’t be able to report to the Baron. They wouldn’t be able to leave. And while he was at it, why not cut the ventilation? Disable the life support? They couldn’t hurt him if they couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t talk to the people who were after him if they had no air.

“Ren,” Asher said. “Ren, come back.”

Distantly he felt Asher’s fingers gripping his arm. But it was secondary to the grip of the ship. In the ship, he wasn’t afraid, wasn’t panicking. He was safe there.

“Ren, we can leave. They’re letting us leave.”

The words sliced into Ren’s consciousness and he gasped and came back to his body. His surroundings were no longer tinged blue. He glanced around the cargo bay. Cass stared at him, pale and trembling. The door to the drift stood open, and Zeke and Malachi huddled to the side.

“What happened?” Ren whispered.

“You opened the door. They agreed to let us go. We’re leaving. You okay?”

Ren pushed a hand to his temple. He felt muzzy and disconnected. “Yes, I think.”

“Good.”

Rowan eyed him, but shoved her pulser into the holster. “Let’s go.”

Rowan didn’t turn her back on Cass and her family, but Ren did as he followed Asher down the bay ramp and into the drift itself. Asher kept his hand on Ren, which was good, since it steadied Ren’s clumsy gait. Asher guided Ren through the crowd with Rowan half a step behind them.

“What the hell happened back there?” she demanded. “What the hell is going on? Who are you?”

“I’m Ren.”

“You’re the package from my brother’s message?”

“Yes, he’s the package.”

“You two have explaining to do. Lots of explaining. But first, I’m feeding you. You both look like you could use a hearty meal.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had, sis.”

“You’re complimenting me? Now I know you’re hungry.”

The sibling banter washed over Ren. He focused on Asher’s voice, and as before, it pulled him to the surface. His haze dissipated and he was able to look around.

The drift was far busier than the space dock. People of all shapes and sizes bustled around him, dressed in various forms of clothing. A group of men and women walked by wearing colorful robes and handing out flyers about the end of the universe. Phoenix Corps recruiters, their insignias unmistakable, held tablets and talked to young people. Ren stared so hard at a woman on stilts that he almost bumped into another woman who had a large snake draped over her shoulders. Children raced on hover boards, laughing as they dodged through the crowd. The drift was riotous with sound and color, and that was only the people. The tech was just as loud. Signs blinked and flashed. Trash receptacles whirred. Drones carrying packages and mail buzzed overhead. Music and announcements played over the comm system, but Ren didn’t know how anyone could pay attention to them above the din of people talking, laughing, bartering and living.

Asher pulled Ren past a window and Ren dug in his heels. His eyes widened as he stared out of the drift into the stars. On the Nomad, Ren didn’t have a view of the outside. But here was space, vast and dark, rotating outside of the thick panes of glass, and Ren stared in awe. Asher stood beside him. Rowan stood at his other shoulder.

“A duster, huh?” she asked.

Ren pressed his hand against the glass; his fingertips left smudges. “It’s beautiful.” He swallowed down the joy. His brother had believed Ren would never see the stars from space, that he would never make it to a ship, much less to a drift. But he had. He had, and it was everything he had dreamed; and yet it wasn’t home. It didn’t seem fair to be staring out at the terrifying beauty of space but wishing for dirt and dust.

He missed his home with an all-consuming ache, and he laughed at his silliness. Here was everything he had imagined as he lay on the sand that day, the lake lapping on the shore, the spring air cool on his skin. And here he was. And he couldn’t help but want to be home.

“As much as I want to stand here and admire the frightening vastness of space, I do have a ship to run.”

“Give him one more minute,” Asher said. He knocked shoulders with Ren. “What did I tell you about the sights?”

Despite everything, Ren grinned. “You weren’t wrong.”

“You’re both idiots,” Rowan said, but she smiled. She ruffled Asher’s hair before pulling him close to her side.

* * *

Rowan escorted them through several levels of the drift until she paused at a wide entrance under a flashing sign proclaiming Restaurant. Ren and Asher followed her into the building. Ren’s stomach growled at the smell of food wafting from the kitchen and his eyes widened at the sight of servers carrying laden trays. In his village on Erden, a tavern served beer and a bland, watery stew. This was certainly no mere tavern, and Ren tried to suppress his excitement and his inexperience.

He needn’t have worried. Rowan conducted all the business, waving over several servers and piling plates on the table until it was overflowing.

“Eat,” she commanded, pushing a plate toward Ren. “And in between bites, you can tell me everything.”

Over the long meal, Asher and Ren relayed their stories. Absently rubbing his shoulder where the scar dissected the Phoenix Corps tattoo, Asher spoke of his injury and his capture. He kept his account short and to the point.

“And then you met him?” Rowan asked, pointing toward Ren.

Asher nodded. “Kept in the cell next to mine.”

“Because,” she said as she wiggled her fingers, “of the glowing eyes.”

“Yes,” Asher said around a mouthful. “But don’t worry. He’s working on controlling it.”

“I’ve gotten better,” Ren added. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

Rowan handed him a napkin. “Stars, an actual star host. And he’s a teenage kid with hardly any table manners.”

Asher laughed. “He’s something, isn’t he?”

“Sure is,” Rowan said. “Now, tell me how you escaped.”

During their lunch, Ren was distracted by everything, but contributed as needed, all the while shoveling several different varieties of food into his mouth. While Asher was more refined, he was just as enthusiastic. Rowan wrinkled her nose and muttered “Boys,” as they ate.

Afterward, she guided them to her ship, keeping one hand on Asher and the other on the holster at her side.

The drift was loud; the conversation of individuals, the announcements overhead and the music drifting from the open doors of bars all mashed together to create a cacophony. It was wonderful and vibrant, and Ren basked in it. More than once, Asher had to collect Ren from where he had stopped to observe something, a stall of trinkets, or an entertainer, or the view from the occasional window.

It was a wonder Ren didn’t get lost.

Underneath it all, the sights, the sounds, the taste of the air, Ren could feel something more. He could hear the hum of the systems that kept the drift livable—the thrusters, which spun the structure to create gravity, the ventilation systems and the air scrubbers, the water recyclers. He could feel the vibrations in the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers. And sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he could see a blue-tinged flash of components on the other side of the gleaming metal.

His star wasn’t out of control, not yet. Ren wasn’t stressed and he wasn’t tired, so he had a grip on his power. But it was present all the same, a tremor under his skin, an inkling in the back of his mind.

“We’re here,” Rowan announced, sweeping her arm to show off the Star Stream. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

The ship resembled the Nomad, though it was older, a little more rundown. It was a merchant ship with a large cargo bay. It didn’t gleam, and it looked as if it had quite a few miles on it, but it radiated a sense of home Ren hadn’t experienced in many long weeks. Ren liked it immediately.

Bending close, Rowan whispered in Ren’s ear. “Keep the glowing business between us. At least, until they get to know you. Okay?”

Ren nodded.

She patted his head. “Good.”

Sitting on a cargo crate at the end of the bay ramp was a young woman with dark skin and long, curly brown hair. She looked up from a book and shot to her feet, her brown eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open.

“Ash?” she said.

“Penelope? Is that you?”

Laughing, she ran toward them and grabbed Asher into a firm hug; her feet lifted off the ground as he spun her.

Ren’s stomach churned and he attributed it to all the food. He wasn’t jealous. He shouldn’t be jealous. He had no reason to be jealous.

“You were the package? Oh my stars, does your mother know? How have you been? Where have you been? Your hair is so long! Rowan, why didn’t you say anything?”

Asher set her on the ground and placed his hands on her upper arms. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

She beamed, her pretty face splitting into a grin. She punched his shoulder, and Asher failed to hide the wince. However, only Ren noticed.

“You, my dear friend, have been missed. I can’t believe it’s been years. You look the same, except for the hair. And the scruff.”

Asher brushed the blond locks off his forehead. “It’s been a while.”

“Oh!” Penelope said, noticing Ren. “And who are you? Are you a friend of Ash’s?” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Penelope. I was Rowan’s friend first, but I’ve known Ash for years. Ever since he was a little menace running around causing ventilation scares.”

Ren tentatively took her hand. Her fingers were calloused and grease-stained.

“Penelope is our mechanic slash medic slash cook. This is Ren,” Rowan said with a small smile. “He’s a mechanic too.”

Penelope lit up and gripped Ren’s fingers hard. “Oh, brilliant! I love talking about ships and parts and systems and everything there is to know about how they run. It will be so great to have another person on board to help me. I assume you’re coming on board, right? Are you going to finish the run to Delphi with us? I hope so.”

Ren’s eyes bugged. He couldn’t pull his hand away. She continued to pump it and then she tugged him onto the ship, leaving Rowan and Asher behind.

Asher laughed. “Penelope, you’re scaring him. Slow down a little.”

She dropped his hand, and Ren snatched it back as if he’d been burned.

“I am so sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. “My husband is always going on about how I babble when I’m excited. I haven’t seen Ash in forever and I know his Corps regiment was captured and I love meeting new people.”

Husband. That was the only word that registered in Ren’s mind, and whatever irritation he had felt with Penelope dropped away. She wasn’t so bad.

“Speaking of, has Lucas charted our course? We should be getting underway.”

“Yes,” Penelope said, blushing. “He has. And we’re ready to go when you are, Captain.”

“Great. Let’s get these two into their quarters and we’ll head on out.”

Rowan pressed a large button near the bay door and engaged the mechanism. The ramp rose slowly, creaking along until it fit snugly into its slot. Another pair of doors slid shut behind it, creating a seal.

Asher walked up behind Ren and slapped him on the back. “Now, we’re safe,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I can finally relax.”

“And contact Mother,” Rowan said, brushing by them. “Get settled, then come to the bridge. And Penelope, find the little one some clothes.”

Ren tried not to bristle at the nickname, but with Asher by his side, smiling and relaxed, he couldn’t complain.

Penelope looked him up and down. “We had a passenger a while back who left a bag behind. I think his clothes might fit you. Come on. The room next to Ash’s is empty. We’ll get you set up in there. And then you can meet my husband and my brother.”

Ren followed quietly along and took comfort in the rumble of the engines and the fact that he was among Asher’s friends and family. He didn’t think he could share Asher’s sentiments about feeling safe, however. Abiathar was still looking for him, and the Baron was going to follow through with his supposed destiny, with or without Ren’s assistance.

* * *

Ren was pleasantly surprised to find his new accommodations had an attached shower room, which he shared with Asher, whose room was on the other side. It was filled with amenities Ren hadn’t seen since he was forced from his home. He washed with soap, scrubbed until the water ran clear and then let the warm water beat on his shoulders. He shaved the minimal scruff that had grown on his upper lip and chin, and tried not to look too long at the color of his eyes, knowing they could flash blue at any moment, or the hollow of his cheeks. Both were reminders of the castle, and he wanted to forget that, at least for a moment.

His tugged his brown hair away from his face, but it was futile. He thought about a haircut before deciding to leave it alone. He cleaned his teeth and swished mouthwash. Ren smelled cleaner than he had in a long time. And that made him feel infinitely better.

He dressed in black pants, which were an inch too short, and a soft long-sleeved blue shirt that fell to his knuckles. Then he walked around the small square space of his new quarters.

The room was about the size of his dungeon cell, but he had a bed and a dresser for the new clothes. He had a comm on the inside of his door and a button so he could talk with everyone on the ship. It was a novelty he wouldn’t ever use. He only wanted to talk with Asher. Rowan scared him. Penelope overwhelmed him. He hadn’t met Lucas or Ollie yet, but he couldn’t see becoming attached to them either.

Bare feet on the cool metal, Ren sat on his bed and listened to Asher puttering around the bathroom on the other side of the door.

Since his capture, Ren had spent most of his time with Asher. They had shared the dungeon. They had shared a hollowed-out log. They had shared a room on a ship. And now, even though Asher was only a door away, Ren felt bereft. Asher was his constant. Asher’s voice drew him back from the haze created by using his power. Now they were in Asher’s world, and Ren was apprehensive of the coming changes.

Ren lay down on his bed and tapped his fingers against the covers. He stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He must’ve fallen into a light doze, because what seemed like a few moments later, there was a knock.

He roused. “Come in.”

Asher stepped through the door of their adjoining washroom. And Ren sat up straight.

Holding out his arms, Asher spun around, smiling. He wore his Phoenix Corps uniform, the black crisp pants, the black jacket with thick red lines that followed the line of his shoulders and down his arms. The stylized phoenix rising from the ashes, the same as Asher’s tattoo, sat on his upper right arm. However, the biggest difference was that Asher had shorn his blond locks into a military cut.

“What do you think?” Asher said, clicking the heels of his black boots. “I clean up nice.”

Ren shook his head. “You drifters are so arrogant.”

“Oh, come on, you have to admit I look better than I did at the citadel. And I smell at least fifty percent better.”

“You couldn’t have looked or smelled much worse.”

Asher rolled his eyes. He crossed the room, sat next to Ren on his bed and gave him a hard shove.

“I didn’t know what I expected from an idiot duster.”

Ren returned the shove while his heart fluttered. “You can take the boy off the planet, but you can’t take the planet out of the boy.”

“How are you holding up?” Asher asked. “I know this is all different for you. Are you okay? How’s the…” he trailed off and wiggled his fingers, “star power feeling?”

“Under control,” Ren said, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to blow anything up.”

“That’s not what I meant. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Ren said on a sigh. “I miss my home, but know I can’t go there. This is as good a place as any.”

Asher patted Ren’s shoulder. “Think of this ship as your second home. I want you to.”

Warmth suffused Ren at Asher’s kindness. “Okay then. Does that mean I get to eat whatever and whenever I want?”

Asher threw his head back and laughed. He ruffled Ren’s hair, making it stand on end. “Sure. If you ask Penelope first, she might even make food for you. She’s notoriously soft-hearted.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

Ren’s comm crackled, breaking into their easy conversation. Rowan’s voice was clouded with static, but comprehensible.

“Ash, are you there?”

Asher stood and crossed the room. He hit the button. “Yes.”

“I have Mother on the line. She’s excited to talk with you. Get up here.”

“Be there in a minute.”

“Hurry up before she starts crying.”

Asher’s face broke into a large grin; incandescent with happiness, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Mother, cry? Now I know you’re joking.”

“Ash, on the bridge, please.”

“All right. Stop nagging. Ren and I will be up in a meteor flash.”

Ren couldn’t begrudge his friend his happiness, but he felt a tug of regret deep in his own gut. He wanted to speak to his own mother. He wanted to ask her why she had never told him what he was and how she knew. Was it connected to his father? He wanted to talk to Liam, tell him about everything he’d seen—the space dock, the drifts, the ships, the stars. Stars, he’d even settle for talking to his stepfather, who was terse on a good day. He only wanted to know they were okay. But at least, if Sorcha made it back, she’d tell them Ren was alive.

“Come on,” Asher said, waving Ren forward. “I want you to meet my mom.”

* * *

When they arrived, they found the bridge empty save for Rowan and an image of Councilor Morgan on the large screen.

Asher and Rowan favored their mother. She had the same blonde hair, the same sparkling green eyes and the same wide smile. She didn’t cry when she saw Asher, but it was a near thing; her eyes shone with unshed tears. She praised her son’s bravery and thanked her daughter for ensuring Asher’s safety, while Rowan and Asher stood ramrod straight in her presence.

Ren was obviously missing something about their relationship. Asher had said his mother was angry about him joining the Phoenix Corps, and he had mentioned his sister acquiring her own merchant ship at an early age.

Whatever caused the strain, Asher and Rowan could not deny that Councilor Morgan was their mother. They shared most of her features, including their arrogance.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you alive, my love,” she told Asher, hand over her heart. “How did you escape?”

“My friend, Ren,” Asher said. “He helped me.”

When her gaze focused on him from the large screen at the front of the ship, Ren waved shyly.

“Aren’t you sweet? Thank you for returning my son to me. I can’t believe he was imprisoned by that horrible tyrant for over a year. But you look well, love, if a bit gaunt.”

Asher straightened his shoulders. “About the tyrant, Mother. He’s dangerous. You must send a Phoenix Corps regiment down to Erden and take care of the situation immediately.”

“Asher, if we learned anything from your capture it is to not interfere with planet-side squabbles. The Corps was created to protect the Drift Alliance, not to meddle in every border dispute.”

Ren stepped forward, hands clenched by his sides. “They’re stealing children from their homes and forcing them to work and to serve in the Baron’s army. How can you not interfere?”

Councilor Morgan looked down her nose at Ren. “As horrible as it is, it’s not the Drift Alliance’s concern. Unless his actions adversely affect a drift, we will not interfere.”

Asher put out an arm and stopped Ren from approaching the screen.

“He has ships, Mother,” Asher said, calmly. “Ren saw them. He is planning something.”

She arched a manicured eyebrow. “How many?”

“I saw at least five. There may be more.”

The corner of her lip curled up. “Five?” she said, her tone mocking. “Five ships against the drifts? Surely you don’t believe he has any chance against us if he were foolish enough to attack.”

“He also has technopaths,” Asher said. “We don’t know how many. At least one. And he’s planning to use them.”

“His General said he’d be expanding to the drifts. He believes he has a destiny,” Ren added.

Her laugh was delicate and condescending, and Ren bristled. “Technopaths? Star hosts? They’re duster myths. Stories created to explain concepts they don’t understand.”

“I can assure you,” Asher said, arm like iron clamped around Ren, “they’re not. Mother, the things I’ve seen…”

“Sweetheart,” she said, pursing her lips. “You and your friend have had a harrowing experience. You’ve obviously been underfed. You were threatened. You were separated from everything you know. Of course you saw things, but they weren’t real. Do you honestly believe there are people who merged with machines and broke the sky?”

“But, Mother—”

“We’ll discuss it further when you arrive. Get some rest. Eat something. I’ll reimburse your sister’s credits and send extra. I look forward to seeing you both when you arrive at Mykonos. Safe travels.”

“Thank you.” Asher gave her a short bow, and the transmission blipped out.

Ren brimmed with anger. He turned on his heel and stalked off the bridge.

“Ren!” Asher called, following him. “Ren, stop for a minute.”

Ren kept walking. He’d known there was a divide between dusters and drifters and spacers, but he never imagined it went this deep. His village, his planet, his family were in danger, and Councilor Morgan brushed him off, as if he were dirt and not made of stardust.

“Ren, stop, please. I know it’s not the reaction we wanted.”

Ren spun. He pointed a finger hard into Asher’s chest. “Not what we wanted? She said I didn’t exist. Or did you miss that part?”

Asher sighed, shoulders drooping. He placed his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling. “Ren, we’ll figure something else out. I’ll go to the Corps directly.”

“Oh, so they can tell you it’s all duster nonsense.”

“I know you’re upset.”

“Understatement,” Ren deadpanned.

“Fine. But my own mother basically said the entire year I spent as prisoner was a hallucination. So, you know, you’re not the only one pissed off here.”

“Oh, poor you,” Ren shot back. “At least you have your family. At least your mother knows you’re alive. I was taken from my home. I watched my friend die. I was almost manipulated into being a weapon. And the one hope I had in helping my planet has blown away like dust because of your drifter arrogance.”

Asher’s eyes narrowed. “My drifter arrogance? I think you’re forgetting I’m on your team. Or was it someone else who managed to get us off the planet?”

Ren blinked and the world went blue. Static filled his ears. “You were content,” Ren spat. “Content to sit in the cell and wait and serve your purpose until I showed up. You didn’t care about my village, my friends, or any of it until you realized the drifts were in danger as well. So don’t”—he swallowed the hot lump in his throat—“don’t pretend you give a damn about me.”

Asher looked stricken. He moved to reach out, but stopped and curled his fingers back into his palm. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

And Ren couldn’t look at the undeniable hurt written in his expression. The blue in Ren’s vision faded. He turned on his heel and went to his quarters with his hands shaking the entire way.

* * *

A few hours later, someone knocked on Ren’s door. He sat up from his sprawl on the bunk and closed the book he had found in the stranger’s suitcase.

“It’s open.”

The door creaked inward and Asher stood sheepishly on the other side. “May I come in?”

Ren set the book aside. “Sure,” he said, subdued.

Asher walked into the room and sat in the chair opposite the bed.

“Rowan has a job to finish before we can go to Mykonos. She has cargo to run to Delphi and is already behind due to collecting us here at Nineveh.”

“That’s fine. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be,” Ren said.

Asher rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Ren. But what do you want me to do? If we go back to Erden, you’ll be caught. You’re safer here. You know that, right?”

Ren did know, but knowledge didn’t erase the worry and disappointment. “I can’t abandon my family.”

“And I don’t want you to,” Asher said, moving across the room and settling next to Ren on the bed. “Look, we’ll finish Rowan’s run, go to Mykonos and show my mother what you can do. If she sees you, she’ll have to believe. And if she doesn’t, then you and I will do something. I promise.”

Ren wilted. “All right. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

Asher knocked his shoulder. “Penelope is making dinner. I hear it’s going to be fantastic.”

Ren smiled. “Is food all you think about?”

“It’s very high on my list these days.” Asher locked an arm around Ren’s neck and pulled him into a half-hug. “Come on. We better get there before Ollie. He eats everything.” He rubbed Ren’s hair and let go. He stood and strode to the door. “Coming?”

Ren pressed his hair back down and stared at Asher, incredulous.

Asher raised his eyebrows, imperious. “Well?”

“Fine. But it better be fantastic.”

Asher laughed.

9

Ren soon learned where the stereotype that spacers were nuts came from. Space was… boring.

Ren met Lucas, the pilot and navigator, and Ollie, the procurer. Ren didn’t quite understand Ollie’s role, other than as Penelope’s brother, but apparently he had connections. Both were nice, if a little intimidating. Lucas was incredibly smart. Thin and willowy, Lucas wore goggles atop his light brown hair for no discernible reason, and no one mentioned why. He liked to talk about navigation and old holovids, and he could do so for hours. Ren understood how Lucas and Penelope had gravitated to each other. Ollie, on the other hand, was quiet. He was so tall he had to duck to maneuver around the ship. His muscles had muscles, and Ollie and Asher spent time in the hold working out together, betting who could do more pushups. Ollie always won.

Ren didn’t steer clear of Ollie and Lucas, but he preferred to interact with Asher or Penelope. He didn’t feel uneducated or pathetically small around them.

Over the next week, Ren developed a routine. Every morning he’d wake at the same time. He’d wash, get dressed and then walk to the kitchen and have a cup of tea and jam on toast. Asher was usually there, and they’d banter back and forth before Asher went to do whatever it was he did. Ren would meander down to the engine housing. He’d press his fingers against the casing, take a quick look around and make sure everything was running optimally. If it wasn’t, he’d fix it with a tug or a push or whatever was needed.

Following Rowan’s instructions and his own instincts, Ren didn’t broadcast what he was. Asher knew. Rowan knew. For Ren, that was enough. He didn’t lie, but Penelope never asked and Ren didn’t offer. When he talked with Penelope, while idly swinging in the hammock that was strung across the corner of the supply room, it was usually about his village. She’d never been to a planet and found Ren’s stories of lakes and forests and dirt as fascinating as he found her stories of drifts and ships and stars.

When she wasn’t available, Ren would read the book he’d found or a technical journal Penelope kept on hand. Or he would go to the bridge, sprawl in the captain’s chair if Rowan wasn’t there, and stare out of the view screen, marveling that he was finally in space. Sometimes, he’d assist Ollie and Lucas with small tasks or nap before heading back to the common area to meet with Asher and play a board game.

Ren drank tea and Asher guzzled coffee, and they both complained about Ollie’s socks since he had taken to walking around without shoes. They bickered over whether to play the games with regular rules or with ones they made up. Asher always preferred the former while Ren preferred the latter, but it didn’t really matter since Asher always obliterated him anyway.

“You really have no concept of strategy,” Asher said, as they played chess. He knocked over Ren’s knight with an unnecessary flourish. “But I wager you probably don’t need it where you’re from.”

Ren scowled as he looked down at the board. “A common drifter misconception about us dusters, but you’re partially right. I’m much better at being sneaky,” he said as he moved his pawn and took Asher’s bishop.

Ren grinned widely at Asher’s surprised noise.

“Sneaky as you may be,” Asher said while gazing at the pieces, “you still have no head for strategy.” He moved his queen down the board. “Checkmate.”

Ren frowned and reset the game. “Obviously, I need more practice.”

At such times, Penelope would inevitably wander in and give them both a fond smile. Then Ren would assist her with making dinner while Asher shouted directions from the sofa.

Sometimes, instead, they would go to the cargo bay and Ren would watch as Rowan, Lucas, Ollie and Asher played a spacer ball game and Asher tried to enforce the invented rules.

“Ollie! The crates are clearly out of bounds,” Asher said one day, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Aw, come on, Ash. It was a great play!” Ollie protested.

“Because everyone else knew you were out of bounds so no one guarded you.”

Ollie pouted. “Fine. But next time, I get to make the rules.”

Asher placed his hands on his hips, dramatically rolled his eyes and breathed hard, while sweat dampened the collar of his shirt and under his arms.

“You two are ridiculous. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Rowan said, picking up the ball where it lay forgotten in a corner.

Inevitably, someone would trip and there would be an injury time-out and the game would devolve into kicking a ball at each other as hard as they could.

Ren stayed away from the athletics, but he always cheered for Asher, and Asher, sweaty and smiling, would raise his gaze to Ren on the gangplank and make faces.

Yes, Ren could understand why spacers were known for being a little odd, but he also knew this life of routine and easy friendship and nights spent sprawled on the couch with Asher, both of them laughing over stories told by the rest of the crew, was by far the best time of his life. These nights Ren would cherish forever. His worry over being forgotten by Asher once he was in this new place had been totally unfounded, as they were inseparable.

Their closeness didn’t go unnoticed.

One night, Ren cleaned up the latest board game, in which he and Asher had teamed against Lucas to wipe him off the board before turning on each other. Everyone else had turned in, leaving only Ren and Rowan.

“Thank you,” she said softly as Ren packed away the pieces.

Ren shrugged. “Cleaning up a game is easy enough.”

She reached out, her fingers encircling his wrist. He paused, startled, dropping a piece back on the table.

“Not for that,” she clarified with a smile. “For being friends with Asher.”

“Oh,” Ren answered, hoping he didn’t blush. “That’s not much of a hardship either.”

Rowan released Ren’s arm with a small laugh and patted his hand. “Don’t lie. We all know Asher has his moments. When he was younger, he was always so serious, so anxious to get away, to forge his own life. I was scared when I received the message he’d escaped that I wouldn’t find the boy I knew. And I didn’t.” She smiled. “I like this one better.”

“Really?” Ren asked, settling the lid on the game. “We’re talking about the same person who spit juice out of his nose not an hour ago.”

Rowan laughed. “Yes, one and the same. He’s much more sociable since he met you,” Rowan said. “There’s something about you, Ren.”

Ren blushed. “There’s nothing… I haven’t…”

She smiled. “It’s not an accusation, merely an observation. Whatever you did when you two were captured has changed him. For the better. So thank you.”

Ren looked down, ran his hand over the brightly colored game box and mentally replayed the moment when Asher had thrown his head back and laughed so hard at Ollie’s affronted expression when he realized what they had done. Asher didn’t laugh like that often, and Ren had been treated to an unhindered view of Asher’s jawline. His pulse had jumped under his skin.

“You’re welcome, Captain,” Ren said. The tips of his ears burned and he hoped Rowan didn’t notice.

She clasped Ren’s shoulder lightly in a familiar and comforting touch, then left the common area.

That night when Ren lay down in his bunk and curled around his pillow, he didn’t fall asleep worrying about his home, about his power, about his family. He didn’t fall asleep dreading the bad dreams that sometimes woke him in the dead of night, dreams in which he went mad without anyone to pull him back to the surface, or that Liam was caught instead of him. He didn’t fall asleep hearing Abiathar’s voice slither into his ear, or Oz’s warnings, or Jakob’s cries of pain.

He fell asleep thinking of Asher.

%

Ren didn’t think he’d get to see much of Delphi Drift. He assisted in unloading the cargo, though what Ollie could move in one trip took Ren three. He helped Penelope draft a list of supplies the ship needed. He even helped Lucas plot the course from Delphi to Mykonos, where they would meet Councilor Morgan.

But when it came time for the crew to set foot on the drift, Rowan blocked his path, putting one palm on his chest.

“Sorry, little one,” she said. “You have several people looking for you. A new bounty popped over the drift’s information system as soon as we docked. You better stay here.”

Ren deflated. He peered over Rowan’s shoulder, past the slip and into the main drift area, seeing the people, the wares, the food.

“Really?”

She smiled sadly. “Sorry. I can’t allow you to risk it.”

Lucas patted Ren on the back as he walked by, descending the ramp. “I’ll bring you back something, kiddo. And maybe, one day, you’ll tell us what the stars you did that gave you such a high bounty.”

Smacking his arm lightly, Penelope shushed her husband. “How about a sweet? Delphi is known for its chocolate,” Penelope said to Ren, pushing her husband down the ramp. “I’ll pick out something special.”

Ren prickled at being treated like a child, especially when Ollie walked by and ruffled his hair, and he tamped down the desire to stamp his foot and cause a scene. He settled for pouting.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Rowan said. “Ash is staying behind too.”

Ren crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“We’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t let anyone on board you don’t know, and don’t leave the ship.” Rowan waved over her shoulder while the ramp raised and settled in its spot.

Ren scowled.

Asher, who had been silent, draped his arm over Ren’s shoulders. “So, ready to go out?”

Eyebrows shooting up, Ren cast Asher a hopeful look. “But your sister said to stay put.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Ren beamed.

“Don’t get too happy,” Asher said, with a shove to Ren’s shoulder. “You’ll have to wear a disguise.”

“That’s fine.”

Asher grinned.

The disguise was a jacket with a hood, which Asher made Ren promise he would keep pulled up at all times. It was red, which, among the bright colors everyone wore on the drift, blended in perfectly. Asher wore civilian clothes so he wouldn’t stand out in his uniform.

Asher tugged Ren along as Ren stopped to look at a sparkling necklace he knew his mother would adore. And then again when Ren dug in his heels to watch a magician pull a flower from behind a child’s ear. And then again when they passed a stall selling sweet bread.

“Will you come on?” Asher said. “I promise, where we’re going is way better than all of that.”

Ren rolled his eyes, but kept his head down.

They hadn’t walked much farther when Asher halted and Ren bumped into his back. He looked up to see a flashing sign declaring they’d found Delphi Drift’s best buffet. Ren took a deep breath and his mouth watered at the smell of food wafting from the entrance.

“What’s a buffet?” Ren asked, drifting closer to the glass windows.

“Amazing is what it is. We pay one price and eat all the food we can.”

Ren’s eyes widened and his stomach growled. Through the glass, he could see tables upon tables of food. “It’s so beautiful, I could cry.”

“I know, which is why I swiped this.” Asher pulled out a card and waved it in Ren’s face. It was Rowan’s credit chip. A small smirk curled over Asher’s lips.

“Want to try it?”

Ren smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. “Yes!”

* * *

Stumbling out of the restaurant an hour later, Ren felt as if he was going to explode. He rubbed his belly, full of every food imaginable, and leaned into Asher’s side.

“I ate too much,” Asher groaned. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

“Please don’t.”

Asher slung his arm around Ren’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to roll me back to the ship. I can’t walk.”

“Ugh. You’re too heavy.”

Half-drunk from food and sugar, Ren and Asher bumped their way through the crowd toward the ship. With his hood up, Ren couldn’t take in everything, as he wanted to; but he didn’t dare pull it down, for fear of being recognized. He had only joined Rowan’s ship; he didn’t want to incur her ire over something as silly as sneaking out.

Despite his hindered view, Ren caught sight of a sign that captured his interest. It didn’t blink or flash like all the others. It was simple and handwritten and displayed across a small door.

Seer. Know your future.

Ren stopped suddenly and ignored the grumblings of the people behind him. Shrugging off Asher’s arm, he slowly moved toward the door and stood in front of it. His mother had been right about the men who could merge with machines. Maybe she was right about people who could see the future.

“What are you doing?” Asher asked, squinting at the sign.

“A seer. A star host. Like me.”

Asher frowned. “Ren, more than likely, it’s a charlatan. People make stuff up all the time. It doesn’t mean it’s real.”

Ren ran his fingertips over the lettering. “But what if it is real? People say I don’t exist, but here I am.”

“Ren…”

“What if they can give me information? What if they can see my family?” Ren looked at Asher, pleading. “Please.”

Asher sighed. He put his hands on his hips and looked around. “Fine, but one whiff of anything strange and we’re out of there. Got it? I’m not going to get you caught over a fake fortune teller.”

“Thank you,” Ren said with a nod and a small smile.

“Don’t thank me. I’m pretending not to have anything to do with this.” Asher gestured toward the door. “Go on then.”

Swallowing his doubts, Ren pushed through the door.

The office was small and dimly lit. It smelled of herbs and earth, and Ren was reminded of his home. Around the interior were shelves filled with vials and jars. Each held something different, and Ren leaned toward a large blue one with something floating in it.

“May I help you?”

Ren flailed backward and was only saved from breaking something by Asher’s firm grip. His hood fell back to reveal his face.

A woman emerged through a beaded curtain with her hands clasped in front of her and an amused smile playing around her lips. She had copper skin and long, straight black hair. She wore a blue, red and orange dress, and its hem tickled the tops of her bare feet. She seemed young, but she had an air of wisdom that made Ren question her apparent age.

“Uh…” Ren said, as Asher pushed him forward. He stumbled and kneed a low desk full of books.

She laughed and it was a tinkling of bells, clear and strange and beautiful.

Ren cleared his throat. “I was hoping you could help me.” He tangled his fingers and looked back to Asher, who wore a wary expression. “I wanted to know if you could see my family.”

She tilted her head; her deep black eyes stared through him. “I’m sorry,” she said. She spread her hands, so the rings she wore caught the low light. “I specialize in seeing the individual. It is difficult to see events in which the individual is not present.”

Ren swallowed, choked. “Does that mean I won’t be with my family again?”

“Oh no, little star host, it does not mean that at all.”

Asher straightened and, posture threatening, stepped close to Ren’s side. Ren’s pulse fluttered.

“How did you—”

“There is no need for fear, Phoenix. I will not hurt your friend or you.” She smiled. “Come.” She pulled the curtain aside. “I will tell you what I see.”

“How much?” Asher asked.

“So practical, Phoenix. If it pleases you, how about ten credits?”

Ren furrowed his brow. That was less than the entrance to the buffet. He had expected she would charge more.

As if reading his mind, she smirked. “I wouldn’t be much of a seer if I couldn’t figure out how to use my gift to ensure my profits.”

Ren barked out a laugh, and Asher’s lips twitched.

“Ten credits it is then,” he said. He swiped Rowan’s credit chip across the device on the wall and entered the amount.

“It is appreciated. Now, follow me.”

Ren eagerly stepped through the curtain with Asher a step behind him. The room was small and close, and decorations filled every available surface and hung on all the walls. Cushions were piled in the corners. A round table sat in the middle of the room, and the woman took a seat there.

Ren sat across from her with Asher next to his elbow.

“My name is Nadie,” she said, clasping her hands on the table, her bracelets jangling.

“I’m Ren. This is Asher.”

“A star host and a Phoenix,” she corrected. She eyed them both. “I will not use the cards. They lie in the face of power and you,” she said, gaze zeroing on Asher, “will not believe them.”

Asher crossed his arms. “Well, for a fraud, you’re not half bad.”

Her expression went flat, and her black eyes glittered. “You insult me in my home. Watch your tongue, Phoenix.”

Ren felt something crackle in the air and the beaded curtain shook, the strands bouncing into each other. Ren knocked his knee into Asher’s.

“I apologize,” Asher said, quickly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she held out her hand, palm up. “Give me your hand,” she commanded Ren.

Tentatively, Ren reached across the table and slid his hand into hers, palm to palm. She clasped her fingers around his, bruising.

Her eyes glowed red and Ren flinched, but she held on, her fingernails digging into his skin.

“He will find you,” she said, her voice echoing around the room, otherworldly and terrifying. “He will find you. He will use you. It will consume you. Your eyes will turn blue and you will forget.”

Ren tried to pull away, but he couldn’t. Her grip held fast. “Ash,” he said, panicked.

Asher moved to help, but she reached out with her other hand and grabbed his forearm. He attempted to wrench away, but she cackled, and the hairs on Ren’s arms rose.

“It’s like iron,” Asher grunted, yanking back from her, unsuccessfully.

“Your voice is his anchor. You died in ashes. You rose from ashes and you will die again in them.”

Terror gripped Ren at her words; his insides churned. Asher was going to die. He was going to be caught. He was going to be consumed by his power.

She opened her mouth to speak again, and Ren struggled against her grip. “Let go!”

Her fingers opened, and Ren fell backward in his chair. Scrambling upright, he saw the red fade from her eyes and the pleasant woman she had been at first stared at them again.

His back to the wall, Ren cradled his arm where a line of scratches from her fingernails bled lightly. Asher stood close to his shoulder with his chest heaving and his face pale, and they both watched her.

Her gaze flitted between them. “I didn’t tell you the story of your first kiss, did I?” she asked. “It was something frightening.”

Ren gulped and shook his head slowly. “You mean you don’t know?”

Brushing her long black hair over her shoulder, she blinked. “No. When I tune into my power, I become someone else. My body is merely a mouthpiece for what the stars reveal.”

“It is the same for me,” Ren said, rubbing his hand. “I’m a conduit. I can control it sometimes, but others, I can’t.”

She tilted her head again and studied him. “We are the same.”

“He’s nothing like you,” Asher spat. “He wouldn’t scare us as a party trick.”

She lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “You still do not believe me?” She stood, slowly, shoulders back, eyes flickering red. “I have seen glimpses of your past and your future. He can connect with machines at will. There are others who can control the will of individuals with their voice. Yet you disparage my gift. Why?”

“The future is fluid,” Asher said.

“Yes, but the past is fixed. A past leads to a future.”

“It can be changed. What if knowing what you’ve seen changes it? What if we make different decisions?” Asher licked his lips and looked at Ren. “It doesn’t have to turn out that way.”

“Oh, I see,” Nadie said with a warm smile. “Do not be frightened of your future. I have seen only pieces. There is always more than what I reveal.”

“We should go,” Ren said. He reached over and took Asher’s sleeve. “We need to get back to our ship.”

She dipped her chin and bowed slightly. “Go with the stars.”

“Yeah, uh, same.”

Ren pulled Asher through the beaded curtain, pretending he didn’t feel the tremors in Asher’s hands. He flipped up his hood, and they exited the shop.

“I’m sorry,” Ren blurted as soon as they stepped outside. “We shouldn’t have. It was a bad idea. I’ll pay you back the money. I’ll do chores on the ship, wash the dishes, fix the sensors. Anything.” Ren realized he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop. Any sense of peace he had experienced since being rescued by Rowan had been scattered on the wind by what Nadie revealed. His breath came in stuttered gasps.

“Hey,” Asher said, placing his hands on Ren’s shoulders. “Calm down. It wasn’t real. It was all guesses.”

“He’s going to find me.” Ren’s heart hammered. “I’m going to forget. Do you know what that means? I’m going to forget my humanity.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.” Ren gulped. “She said you were going to die.”

“Death can mean anything. She said I’d already died once and here I am walking around. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything will be fine.”

“But what if it’s not?”

Asher gave Ren a firm shake. “The future is fluid. We can change it. We will change it.”

“Do you think we can?”

“Yes.” Asher said it firmly, and Ren almost believed him. “We should get back. Rowan is going to kill us if she realizes we left.”

“Don’t let me.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let you what? Get in trouble? Sorry, I can’t do anything about that. Rowan is the captain.”

“No, not that. Don’t let me. Okay? If I start to… if I experience another personality glitch… or if I’m about to do something horrific. You stop me, okay?”

“That’s not going to happen.” Asher moved to walk toward the ship, and Ren caught his elbow, stopping Asher in his tracks.

“Ash, please. Promise me.”

Asher looked down to where Ren’s fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. He nodded. “I promise.”

“And you keep your promises. I know that about you.”

Asher’s lips ticked up in a grin. “Yeah, I do.”

With Asher’s promise, Ren felt mildly better, though Nadie’s words haunted him as they walked to the ship.

* * *

They got back mere moments before Rowan and the others entered the cargo bay. Asher and Ren shared a quick grin, especially when Penelope handed Ren a parcel of sweets and a sympathetic smile. Rowan didn’t learn of their adventure until days later, when the charges showed up on her credit chip.

10

Ren reclined on his bunk, bare feet up on the mattress, head and body cushioned on a pillow that was larger than any Ren had ever had. A technical manual lay open on his lap as he mapped the systems of the Star Stream. He studied the communication system and with a press of his fingertips against the wall of his room, allowed his eyes to flutter shut. With a small push, he was able to race along the wires and the circuits of the ship and follow the path of a message from Rowan on the bridge to Ollie in the hold.

He had practiced this each day with a different system since Delphi Drift in an effort to gain control. The more he practiced, the better he became at untangling his consciousness from the ship. Despite his ever-strengthening skill, Nadie’s words hovered in his thoughts. He wouldn’t be responsible for Asher’s death, and he wasn’t going to fall under Abiathar’s influence. He wasn’t, if he could help it. And he clung to Asher’s promise.

He heard a crackle and Rowan’s voice.

“Asher, come to the bridge. Now.”

Ren had never heard that particular inflection from Rowan. She sounded almost panicked, which was unusual. Rowan was unflappable.

“What do you want?” Asher responded in a whine. “I was napping.”

“Get. Up. Here. Now.”

Ren pulled out of the Star Stream and blinked to clear the blue from his vision. He hopped to his feet and was out of his door in seconds, on his way to the bridge. He arrived at the same time as Asher.

Asher gave him an odd look.

Ren shrugged. “I heard on the comm.”

“Ah, playing around in the systems again.”

“Learning. Practicing. It couldn’t hurt.”

Rowan stood up from the captain’s chair when they ascended the short stairway to the bridge. Lucas sat at the controls, forearms straining as he attempted to maneuver through a debris field. He wasn’t perfect; the debris was widespread and dense, and while he could navigate around the larger pieces, the smaller ones banged against the hull.

Asher squinted and leaned forward. “What is that?”

“That’s why I called you up here.” Rowan cast a glance at Ren, her eyebrow quirking up. “Were you two napping together?”

“Huh?”

Ren flushed. “No. Why? What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sure,” Rowan said, smirking.

“Anyway, why did you interrupt my nap over debris?”

Rowan’s smirk disappeared. She turned to look at the vid screen. “Because we’re on a certified trade route, patrolled by the Corps. There shouldn’t be any debris.”

Lucas had a white-knuckled grip on the controls as he wove through the field. “Maybe it was a cargo dump.”

Ren walked to the front of the bridge and looked out into the myriad of stars and the bits and pieces of metal that floated by. “Why would someone drop their cargo?”

“Maybe it was illegal. Or maybe they needed to lighten their load,” Lucas said with a tense shrug. “It’s not unheard of.”

“But it is unusual,” Rowan said.

Ren studied a scrap that floated by, and suddenly his heart jumped into his throat. “This isn’t cargo,” Ren whispered. He pointed to a piece, his hand trembling. “That’s part of an engine.” He quickly pointed to another. “That’s a sensor array.”

Asher came to stand by Ren’s shoulder. “You sure?”

“I’ve been studying. I’m certain.”

“It’s a ship,” Rowan breathed. “Stars, it’s a ship.”

As if to confirm this, a large piece of hull drifted past. Using the vid screen, her fingers tapping quickly on the console, Rowan zoomed in. Scorch marks adorned the metal, but the identification numbers were unmistakable to Ren. He knew the sequence. He knew them because he had been inside the ship’s systems and its identity was forever part of him.

The Nomad.

The conversation around Ren fuzzed out. He distantly heard Lucas asking how a ship could blow up on a protected trade route, and Rowan’s answer.

“Any number of reasons,” Ren heard her say. “A spark in a fuel cell. A loss of pressurization. A sudden impact of some sort. Maybe with an asteroid?”

“Or a weapon,” Asher said.

“We don’t know that,” Rowan said. She tugged sharply on her braid. “Those scorch marks could be from a tough reentry or a collision in atmo. We don’t know it was an attack.”

“Yes, we do.” Ren ran a hand over his face, remembering how Cass had taken him and Asher in despite their appearance and their lack of funds. Sure, she tried to hold Ren for ransom, but she was only trying to make her way in an unforgiving world and ensure her family’s future. Ren understood that. And for her kindness, or greed, her family was gone. “It’s the ship that brought me and Asher to Nineveh. It’s the Nomad.”

“Are you certain?” Rowan asked. Her fingers flew across the screen, looking up the hull numbers. She brought the information up on the vid screen, and sure enough, the demographics matched—Cassidy Franklin, captain of the Nomad, departed from Nineveh thirty-one days ago.

Ren looked to Asher and met his concerned gaze. “He’s looking for me. He’s going to find me.”

“Ren,” Asher started, voice low and soft.

But Ren shook his head. “No. It’s my fault. This is a message. Either Abiathar was looking for us and realized we weren’t on their ship, or he knew we’d already joined Rowan and would pass this way. No matter the situation, you are in danger. My presence is putting you in danger.”

“Lucas,” Rowan commanded, settling back in her chair, “get us out of here. Ash, alert the Corps. Let them know what we’ve found.”

“I will.” Asher turned to go.

Ren twisted his fingers. The weight of implications settled hard on his shoulders. Abiathar was still looking, and now he had the ability to maneuver in the trade routes. One or more of the military vessels Ren was supposed to assist in repairing were now out there, trying to track them down. “To what end?” he asked in a biting, sharp tone. “The Corps won’t listen. There is no perceived threat. Your mother said so herself.”

“Maybe not from some duster Baron, but a ship exploded. They’ll have to investigate.”

“A ship was attacked,” Ren snapped. “A ship we were on a month ago. It’s not a coincidence.”

“I know,” Asher said. “Okay? I realize what this means.”

“Could you tell me, because I’m completely in the dark,” Lucas said. He eased the ship around another large section of the Nomad.

Ren’s stomach churned.

“They’re being ridiculous, Lucas.” Rowan stood, agitated, and addressed the two of them. “You believe this Baron is after you because of Ren’s powers? Are you serious? I’m sure he has infinitely better things to do than chase a teenager across the cluster.”

“It’s more than that,” Ren said. “He wants to use what I can do to take over the drifts. The ships are functional. He’s out here. Even if he doesn’t find me, there are others.”

“And what will they do? Do you honestly think they will be able to get through the Corps?”

“Yes,” Asher answered flatly. “Yes. You’re underestimating them.”

“And you’re overestimating the power of a Baron and a General from Erden—the most backward planet in the damn cluster!”

Ren prickled. “We’re not backward.”

“Oh, save me from idiot dusters.”

“You—” Ren started, pointing a finger at Rowan. A sudden surge of power crackled along his limbs and he could see the blue film edging into the corners of his vision.

“Ren,” Asher said. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

“Yes, Ren. Take a breath. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

Ren pressed the tips of his fingers to his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the way the Star Stream called to him. He opened his eyes, and though he felt calmer, the ship buzzed in his head. He could feel it in his joints, humming through his veins.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

Asher bumped his arm. “You’re not.”

“Guys,” Lucas said calmly. “Guys. Sorry to interrupt here, but we have a problem.”

“What now?” Rowan sighed.

“Three ships incoming. Fast. One in front and two on our flank.”

“Argument tabled until further notice.” Rowan tossed her braid over her shoulder and jumped into her seat. “Can we outrun them?”

“Doubtful. They’re trekking. If we tried, we wouldn’t get far.”

“Best stay, then. Make it look like we’re either brave or stupid.” Rowan hit the comm. “Penelope and Ollie. Get up to the bridge. We have a situation.” She quickly tapped on the console to her right, bringing up the specs on the ships.

Ren recognized them, just as he did the Nomad. He’d connected with one of them when working for Janus and the others had called to him while he was in the hangar bay on Erden.

“No signatures,” Rowan said. “Unregistered. That’s one violation of the Trade Laws.”

“Blowing up ships would be another,” Asher said. He moved to stand at Rowan’s elbow.

Ren slunk to the back of the bridge and hid near the shadows.

“Who’s blowing stuff up?” Ollie asked, ducking through the entrance to the bridge. Penelope followed on his heels.

“Hopefully no one. We’ll see, though. Pen, take over the communications console. Ollie, stand beside me and look intimidating.”

“Sure thing,” Penelope said, moving to the station and standing behind it.

Ollie stood on the other side of Rowan and crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

“Okay. Lucas, what are those things?”

“Military. But really old military. Corps castoffs more than likely.”

“Weapons?”

“Several.”

“Cogs.” Rowan cursed.

Ren tried to melt into the wall. Staving off panic, he could feel the sizzle of his star in his chest, aching to be released.

Lucas frowned. “They’ve surrounded us. Definitely an act of aggression.”

“We’re being hailed, Captain,” Penelope said, small fingers flying across the flat screen.

Rowan crossed her legs, positioning herself so she looked like a queen holding court with her head high, her shoulders back. Next to her, Asher stood at attention, exuding every bit of the military bearing ingrained in him so these ships would know exactly who they were dealing with. With Ollie the giant, the three of them made a formidable sight.

It wouldn’t matter.

“Open a channel,” Rowan commanded. “On screen.”

The connection was immediate and before them, displayed across their viewing screens, was a cold, calculating smile. Abiathar loomed, with piercing blue eyes, a long nose and a severe expression. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth spoke of long years but certainly not frailty or senility.

“I am Abiathar,” he said, his voice deep and hard. “You have something I want.”

“What right do you have, impeding our passage on this trade route?” Rowan demanded. “We have nothing of yours. This is a gross obstruction and violation of the Trade Route Protection Act of…”

“Good to see you again, Asher. Though you do look different not cowering behind bars. How’s the shoulder? All right, I hope.”

Asher didn’t flinch, though Ren did. He tried to make himself as small as possible, but his presence didn’t go unnoticed.

Abiathar’s eyes brightened and his lips pulled wider; his gaze settled hard on Ren. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Your presence is requested on this ship within ten minutes or I will take action.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Abiathar didn’t acknowledge Asher’s statement. He addressed Ren. “Would you rather I have my men kill the crew or suggest you do it yourself?”

Cold fear washed through Ren, turning his blood to ice. He remembered Abiathar’s voice, how he pushed Ren to take off the cuffs, how he threatened Ren in his chambers, how he commanded Ren with a word until it was all Ren could hear. He could only imagine what Abiathar could make him do.

“No,” Ren whispered.

Abiathar laughed. “Captain, you have no idea what you have on board. You should be grateful that I am willing to take him off your hands.”

Rowan stood, gracefully, menacingly, her full lips pursed. Fury radiated from every inch of her, from the line of her posture to the flatness of her gaze. “You will take nothing off this ship.”

“I will take what I need to fulfill my employer’s destiny.”

Rowan put her hands on her hips. “You have no right to block us. Move from our path or I will be forced to contact the Corps.”

Abiathar scoffed. “He has eluded me for weeks, Captain. I won’t allow him out of my grasp.”

Asher stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides. “Are you going to destroy us like you did the Nomad?”

“Oh, Corporal,” Abiathar purred. “I should’ve known you’d be as blunt as you are dim. No, I’m not going to obliterate the Star Stream. I’m going to disable it. Then I’m going to board it. My men and I will ferret out your little friend, capture him and then kill the rest of you.”

“If you attempt to board us, I will make sure there are many nasty surprises awaiting you.”

“Now, now. No need to be combative, Captain. This could all be avoided if you would simply hand him over.”

“I’m not handing anyone over! Now, move from our path or I will be forced to—”

“You disappoint me, Captain!” he shouted. “This is your last chance to be reasonable and comply.”

“And you disappoint me if you think I will succumb to threats. Now kindly go to hell.”

Rowan sent a quick glance to Penelope, who cut the transmission.

Shaking, Ren cleared his throat. Everyone on the bridge swiveled to look at him. “Hand me over,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t put yourselves at risk.”

Rowan blinked at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. No one orders me around. And it’ll be a cold day in a supernova before I obey that cog.” Barking orders, Rowan wasted no time. “Lucas, get us the hell out of here. I know we’re not fast enough, but make us a hard target.”

“With pleasure,” Lucas answered, leaning forward on the controls to take the ship into a dive.

“Penelope.”

“Transmission sent to the Corps as soon as he started talking,” she answered. “The nearest ship is several leagues away.”

“Cogs,” Asher whispered.

“Looks like we’re on our own,” Ollie said.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Ash, I need you to—”

The first barrage from Abiathar’s ship rocked the Star Stream, pitching them all to the side as the shot struck the port bow. Ren fell to his knees. He let out a grunt as the ship shuddered and the ominous creaking and moaning of metal echoed around them.

“Stars, they weren’t playing around,” Ollie said, holding on to the captain’s chair with a death grip.

“No, they weren’t,” Rowan agreed. “Lucas?”

Ren watched as Lucas struggled with the controls, spurring them into a spinning dive, but there was no way to avoid the second blast.

“We’re losing power,” Penelope yelled as sparks skittered across the command console.

“Rowan,” Asher said, expression pinched, his hard grip on the navigation console the only thing keeping him standing, “the ships are breaking off. They are moving to either side of us.”

“Lucas?” Rowan called. Her voice was high, panicked.

“Flight controls are gone, Captain. We can’t run.”

Another blast struck the hull. And then another, in rapid succession. The ship rocked, sending the crew scattering like confetti on a breeze. Ren squeezed his eyes shut and waited, but another blast didn’t come. Carefully, Ren opened his eyes.

He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and took everything in. Asher cradled his arm to his chest, and Ollie slowly rose from his sprawl on the floor.

The power was off. The glow of the emergency lights was eerie amid the sounds of stressed metal and the fizzle-pop of systems shutting down. Backup life support was running, but everything else was fried. Ren could feel in his bones how the ship gave up, one system at a time, as the energy from Abaithar’s blast crackled over its frame and down into its circuits.

The imminent failing of the Star Stream’s systems was enough to spur Ren’s power to try and stetch beyond his tight grip. It begged inside him—to flee, to fix, to fight—but he held it back, afraid to give in. Afraid of what Nadie had warned of his humanity.

Watching as sparks sputtered from consoles and danced across the floor, and hearing the shouts of the crew, of Asher’s family, cracked his resolve. The sounds rattled in Ren’s head, mixed with the pings and snaps of the deck plate and the hull. The ship sloped to the side, jerking under the continued assault.

Abiathar ensured the Star Stream was dead in the water.

The sound of twin thunks echoed, the evidence of grappling lines connecting to either side of the ship. Abiathar planned to secure a connection and pull the Star Stream closer in order to board.

“He’s going to attempt to seal with the aft airlock,” Rowan said. A strand of hair had come loose from her braid and it stuck to a wound in her hairline, from which blood trailed slowly down her temple. “We’ll fight him.”

“Ren,” Asher said, looking toward where Ren cowered. “You need to hide. Find a duct or a closet. Anything. We’ll fight him off. But you have to hide.”

Asher’s words struck a chord inside Ren he couldn’t explain. Ren thought about his village on Erden, remembering the times he hid with Liam in the forest as floaters prowled the village, how they had shaken with terror as they huddled in a nest of wet leaves and dirt. He remembered the fear of being snatched off the street, and the hopelessness, knowing one day he would be caught. He remembered the day they captured him, how he had fought so Liam might be safe and how he had failed to protect Jakob and Sorcha at the citadel. And he felt the sadness and the guilt that crushed him when he stole away on the first ship he and Asher could find, feeling his connection with Erden shrink and snap with the distance as he left his family behind.

They couldn’t run. Ren wouldn’t hide.

Determination powering him, Ren stood on shaky legs as the ship juddered beneath his feet. Power and lights flickered. The systems were overloaded by the blasts from Abiathar’s ship.

Ren heard Asher’s questioning voice over the pounding in his ears but he ignored him, firmly focused on what he had to do.

He made it to the nav controls. Ren took a breath, the star welling within him. He gave Asher one last, brave smile, then slapped his hand down and let go.

Ren released the raging flow of everything in him, and abruptly every system whirred to life. It was only for a moment, a brief second, but long enough for every hair on his body to raise and his skin to prickle with electricity. His vision went blue, but more than that he could feel the star bursting from him, glowing in the corners of the bridge, gathering power, before the ship emitted a large blue pulse.

It was the last thing Ren saw before everything went dark.

11

Ren’s awareness faded in like static. Amid the blur of sounds and the white noise of panic, Ren picked out one voice—one soothing cadence that whispered his name and pulled him back from the brink.

Asher.

Slogging through circuits and systems and the enticement of being free in the machines, Ren reached for the sound. He wanted the voice, needed to hear it echo in his ears. He left the ship and slotted into his body, anchored back in his bones.

Once again corporeal, Ren felt every ache and every sore muscle. He felt the lead weight of his eyelids and was unable to drag them open. Exhausted and blurred, Ren slipped into sleep. Asher’s words followed him into his dreams.

%

The next time Ren awoke, he realized he wasn’t on the bridge. The common room couch cradled his bruised body. And other than Asher’s voice, recounting a story, everything was silent—the previous chaos was gone. Even the Star Stream was quiet, no longer rocking from blasts or popping from stress. The dread that hung over Ren dissipated.

“I told Rowan not to pet the magician’s bunny. But did she listen? No, of course not. She listens about as well as stone. You know that. You’ve met her. Anyway, the bunny did not want to be touched and it reared back and—”

“Let me guess. It bit her.” Ren’s voice grated out of his throat, raw and hoarse, as if he had screamed for days.

The sound of Asher falling off whatever he sat on made Ren smile, albeit weakly. He opened his eyes and stared into the dim overhead light. He squinted against it, but Asher’s face popped into his vision, blocking the glow from the emergency lights.

“You’re awake!”

“Looks that way.”

Asher’s grin was wide and brilliant.

Ren mustered a smile in return, though it felt brittle. He moved to raise his body to his elbows, but Asher placed a hand on his chest and stopped him. His touch burned through the fabric of Ren’s shirt and swept through him. Ren collapsed back to the pillow.

“You’ve been out for a solid day. You need to keep resting until Penelope can have a look.”

Ren’s eyes widened. “A day?” he asked. “What happened? What did I do?”

“You don’t remember?” Asher kept his fingers splayed on the center of Ren’s chest. His touch was gentle, but firm.

Ren shook his head. “The last thing I remember is deciding I didn’t want to hide anymore.” He put a hand to his temple and bit back a groan from using his sore muscles. “On Erden, we hid in the forest when the soldiers came. We never fought back. I don’t know why we didn’t. Maybe it was easier to hide, but I couldn’t do that again.”

Asher’s features softened, and Ren tried not to focus on how Asher’s hand lightly curled in Ren’s shirt.

“I can understand that.”

Ren shifted on the mattress, testing his joints. They ached, as they had after days marching to the castle. That seemed so long ago.

“What did I do?”

Asher laughed slightly. “Actually, you uh… we don’t know how you did it, but there was this pulse of light and sound. And afterward, Abiathar and his ships were gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah,” Asher said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gone.”

“Did I…?” Ren’s throat went dry. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No!” Asher was quick to reassure. “No, not that we know. You… uh… you didn’t do anything to their ships. You did something to ours.”

Ren rolled his head to the side and looked around. The common room appeared intact, but Ren couldn’t hear the ever-present hum of the engines, or feel the soft breeze from the air recyclers, or hear the crackle of the comm system. The emergency lights were on, at least, and life support must not be malfunctioning or Ren wouldn’t have awoken at all.

“I broke the ship? Is Rowan angry?”

“You didn’t break the ship. Abiathar broke the ship.”

“Then what did I do?” Ren bit out, frustrated. He didn’t understand why Asher danced around what happened. If Ren didn’t break anything or kill anyone, why was he avoiding telling him?

Asher broke eye contact and looked away. “You saved us. You transported us halfway across the cluster.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Apparently, it is.”

Ren laughed, a hysterical edge to the sound. How ironic. Not wanting to run away again led to him tapping into his ability, and it deemed the best way to help was to transport them away. So much for not running.

Ren ran a hand down his face. “How do you know?”

“You know how Lucas is. He collects star charts. He actually had to pull one out and use it since the nav system is shot.”

Ren raised his eyebrows. “I noticed we’re running on reserve power.”

“Yeah. Abiathar disabled us. We think that when you transported us, you fixed the backup life support systems to keep us alive. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Ren laughed lightly. It hurt his ribs. “Nothing about this makes sense. It’s straight out of one of the fairy tales my mother always told me.”

“Well,” Asher said, patting Ren’s chest, “at least it’s one about space and not about wolves. I don’t do well with animals.”

Smiling, Ren pushed his body up, and this time Asher allowed it. “I’m guessing you need me to fix the rest of the systems.”

“Not now,” Asher said, quickly. The small smile he wore dropped away. “You should take it easy.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing a little star power,” Ren started, wiggling his fingers, “won’t fix.”

“Don’t!” Asher pulled away and ran a hand through his hair. He started to pace, his body rigid. “Don’t. Don’t joke about it. You… you didn’t see what it did to you. Your eyes glowed and your whole body went stiff. And no matter how loud I called for you, you didn’t respond. You were here, but you weren’t. I don’t… I don’t want to see that again.”

Sitting up fully, Ren swung his legs over the side of the couch. “I heard you, though. I did. I remember your voice.”

“It’s like Nadie said.” Asher’s brow furrowed. “She was right.”

“I thought you didn’t believe Nadie.”

Asher shrugged. “Well, my best friend is a star host with technopathic powers. Maybe I had a change of heart. Anyway, my voice is your anchor.”

“Good thing you don’t shut up, then.”

Asher rolled his eyes. He looked down and fiddled with a shiny button on his uniform. “You scared me,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You saved us.”

“I put you in danger.”

“We already were in danger.”

Ren frowned. “He wouldn’t be after this ship if it weren’t for me.” He gathered his legs under him, but couldn’t muster the energy to stand. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I thought I told you not to move.”

The admonishment didn’t have any heat behind it, and now that Ren was sitting upright, Asher handed him a glass of water. Ren drank it quickly; the water soothed the sting in his throat. And while he didn’t want to admit it, the simple act of sitting up already had Ren exhausted. He slumped back against the cushions and handed the glass back to Asher.

“So we’re dead in space except for life support,” Ren said. “And we have the lapdog of a psychotic despot after us. And I’m one slip-up away from becoming disconnected from humanity.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Penelope can’t fix the ship on her own.”

“No, she can’t, but you can help her. Little by little. Slowly. Nothing dramatic.”

“A break from drama does sound appealing.” Ren slumped further down on the couch. His eyelids were heavy; he could drop into sleep at any second. “A nap sounds good too.”

“You should rest. I’ll let Penelope know you woke up.”

Ren vaguely waved his hand. “Okay.”

As he drifted off, his eyes fluttered shut. Cradled by the comfy cushions, he felt the ghost of a touch to his cheek.

* * *

Ren woke sometime later. A note sat on the table next to him with a glass of water and a plate of food. The note was from Penelope.

“Your vitals are fine,” it read. “Eat. Then go to your room to rest. We’ll start on the ship in the morning.”

Ren blinked. He had no idea what time it was, but with the lack of crew in the common area, he could only guess everyone was asleep. Hoisting his body upright, Ren drank the water. He ate the snacks despite not feeling hungry. He was more tired than anything else, even after resting for hours.

Not wanting to fall asleep on the couch again, Ren heaved to his feet. He wavered slightly and gripped the dining room table, using it to maneuver toward the door. Breathing hard, he walked close to the wall and exited the common room. He turned and headed toward his quarters; his shoulder brushed along the metal wall.

Voices ahead of him made him slow his walk. It was late, Ren knew that, and he found it odd that two people were up talking in the middle of the night.

Asher’s voice was unmistakable, but the timbre of it sent a shiver down Ren’s spine; it wasn’t his normal, congenial tone. Leaning heavily on the wall, Ren inched closer until he reached a bend in the corridor. He walked around the corner and found Rowan and Asher staring each other down. Asher looked exhausted; the shadows under his eyes were apparent even in the low light, and Rowan tipped her chin up, arms crossed over her chest, defensive and angry.

Engrossed in their argument, they didn’t notice Ren.

“What have you brought on this ship?” Rowan spat, crowding close to Asher, pushing her finger into his chest. Her long fingernail made a dent in his crisp uniform, like the tip of a knife against skin the moment before it cuts.

Ren quickly ducked back into the hallway and pressed his body flat against the wall. He listened, cautiously peeking around the corner.

“What do you mean?” Asher asked. He cradled his arm to his chest. “Are you still mad about the credits? I told you—”

“Not those, Ash. Stars, either you’re as dense as mud or you suck at deflecting. I’m talking about Ren. Your little friend has been nothing but trouble since we brought him on board.”

He heard Asher take a deep breath. “You knew what he was in Nineveh. You saw him open the Nomad’s bay door without touching it. You saw his eyes.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think he’d be as dangerous as he’s turning out to be.”

“He’s not dangerous.”

“He is. Or did we not transport halfway across the cluster. And that’s not even counting the mass-murdering cog we have on our tail.”

“Rowan, he needs our help. He’s special.”

“I don’t care what he is to you, Ash! I don’t care that he’s a myth or a legend or whatever you want to call it. He’s a danger. We are in danger because of him!”

“No. We’re in danger because no one will help us. It’s not his fault.”

Rowan pursed her lips. “Ash, I love you. You’re my family, my annoying little brother, and I am so thankful you escaped that place and made it back to where you belong. But you have to be pragmatic. Ren is right. They will never stop looking for him. These people will chase him down to the ends of the galaxy.”

“Then we must help him.”

“Ash—”

“What?” Asher said, challenging. “Do you want to drop him off at the nearest drift? How about push him out of an airlock? Either way, it doesn’t matter. You saw the pieces of the Nomad. We hadn’t been there for near a month and Abiathar incinerated it anyway. He would have done the same to us after he’d boarded and captured Ren again. Ren saved us.”

“He saved us from a situation his presence put us in. Ash, I know you understand this. You’re being stubborn because you like him, okay? I get it. But think of Penelope. And Ollie. And Lucas. Do you want them to die because of your feelings for some duster kid?”

Ren stood in the hallway, unwilling to move, holding his breath. He wanted to hear Asher’s response, but he also didn’t want to hear it. His feelings tangled up inside him, twisted into knots.

“What do you suggest?”

Ren’s stomach dropped to the floor, and his body almost followed. Lightheaded and trembling, Ren pressed his forehead to the cool metal wall.

“We take him back to his planet. We take him to his family. That’s what he wants, right? To get back to them?”

“Okay,” Asher said, nodding. “Okay. If you do, you drop me off too.”

“What?” Rowan’s voice went shrill. “Are you crazy?”

“You’re right. I don’t want to endanger the others, but I made a promise to Ren we’d figure something out. Together. And I won’t go back on that.”

Rowan sighed. From his position, Ren could see Rowan reach out and touch Asher’s sore shoulder. “Do you remember what your last promise cost you?”

Asher flinched away.

And Ren couldn’t listen to any more. He snuck away, looped around to his quarters. His middle fluttered like butterflies, giddy that Asher had confirmed what Ren had felt since their time together at the citadel. He was awed by the feeling, had been certain he had packed that part of himself away when he was captured. Obviously, he hadn’t done it well enough.

But he couldn’t let Asher give up his family, give up his life for Ren. Promise or not, Ren couldn’t allow Asher to be hurt again.

Ren clenched his jaw and, with a new resolve, made a decision.

%

Days passed slowly in space. Ren restored the systems of the Star Stream one agonizing component at a time. The first was the sensor array so they could detect any threats, though they wouldn’t be able to do anything about them. The second was the engine and the nav controls, so they might be able to flee. But they didn’t move from their spot, merely drifted in space and time as Rowan didn’t want to make for the nearest drift on half-power. She didn’t want to risk encountering Abiathar again so soon. Ren didn’t blame her.

Penelope assisted, but she kept her distance. Her normally chatty personality was tempered by her obvious fear. Ren didn’t blame her. He was scared of himself too.

As Asher commanded, Ren didn’t push beyond his limits. He did everything meticulously, despite his power wanting to rush out and merge, fix, control, be free. At the end of each day, Ren fell into bed, exhausted. Keeping such tight control was as taxing as letting the star consume him. And Ren wondered if he’d ever feel complete in his bones again, or if he would forever be cursed to want to vibrate out of them.

The others gave him a wide berth. Rowan glared at him when they were in the same room. Lucas muttered under his breath. Ollie stared as if afraid, and it made Ren shrink inside that such a large man could be afraid of a weed like him. He understood, though. They didn’t know him. They didn’t know him as Asher did. They hadn’t seen him in shackles, at the mercy of guards and a madman. They hadn’t heard him cry after his friend was killed.

They hadn’t seen the facets of his humanity as Asher had. When they looked at Ren, they saw a star host capable of terrifying things. They saw a person destined for insanity.

It all came to a head a few days later. Ren had purposefully avoided the common room during mealtimes because he couldn’t handle the awkward silences and he didn’t want to intrude on the crew’s family time. But that day, when Ren slunk into the kitchen area to grab his dinner, the group hadn’t yet left.

He froze in the doorway as they all looked up from their meal.

Asher grinned, but the others paused. Ollie’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, and the pasta slid back to his plate with a plop.

“Ren,” Asher greeted. “Done for the day? Come join us.”

Asher beckoned him forward with his good arm, gesturing to the empty seat next to him as if everything was fine.

Ren didn’t move.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would still be in here. I’ll come back later.”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you overworking yourself and missing dinner. Now come on, there’s plenty of Pen’s delicious pasta.”

Ren swallowed. “Ash, I don’t think…” Ren trailed off. He didn’t know what to say, but the reason for his hesitancy dawned on Asher. His eyebrows rose and he looked around the table. No one would meet his gaze, other than Rowan, and she pursed her lips.

“You’ve not been overworking,” Asher said softly.

Ren shrugged. “The ship is almost ready. Only a few more things to check.” He looked down, and scuffed his boot on the metal deck plate. “The comms are mostly static.”

“The comms have been mostly static for ages.” Asher shook his head, eyes wide and incredulous. “I can’t believe you all. You’re frightened of a seventeen-year-old twig.”

Penelope set down her fork. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “He’s a star host,” she said by way of explanation.

“So? He’s my friend.”

“He transported us across the cluster,” Lucas said. “Didn’t you see the star charts?”

“Yes, I know. He saved us. Or do you not remember the ship almost shuddering to pieces.”

Lucas winced.

Sighing, Ren took a step back, almost out of the room. “Ash, really, it’s okay. I understand.”

“It’s not okay!” Asher slammed his hand on the table. He took a breath. “It’s not okay,” he said, calmer. “Now, come over here.”

Ren stepped inside.

Asher rolled his eyes. He grabbed the empty plate and the serving spoon. He heaped a portion of the it onto the plate, spilling a few bits of pasta on the table, and then set it in the empty spot next to him. He grabbed a hunk of bread from the basket in the middle of the table and dropped it onto the plate as well. Turning, Asher raised an expectant eyebrow.

Unable to refuse Asher, Ren crossed the room, head down, and awkwardly lowered his body into the chair.

“I didn’t mean to put any of you in danger. And I didn’t know the lengths Abiathar would take to find me. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything I can to ensure your safety.”

Asher puffed out his chest. “They know that. The ship has never run better since when you came on board. You help out in areas you don’t need to. You’re eager to learn even the most mundane operations of the ship. You’ve been nothing but friendly, and they should know you don’t have an evil bone in your entire body.”

Sufficiently chastised, Penelope rubbed a hand over her eyes and Lucas bowed his head, finding great interest in the puddle of red sauce on his plate. With a grunt, Ollie reached across the table and grabbed the jug of water. He poured a glass and then set it down next to Ren’s napkin.

Ren stared at his plate before picking up his fork and shoveling in the spirals and sauce.

It wasn’t acceptance by any means. Rowan glowered. Penny shied away from Ren’s gaze. Lucas didn’t look up and Ollie didn’t try to break the silence with a joke. But Asher smiled and nudged Ren’s shoulder with his own, and that was enough for Ren.

* * *

By the next afternoon, the ship was fixed. Everything worked, and it would only be a few hours before the Star Stream was underway again. With that knowledge, Ren hardened his resolve. He wouldn’t allow Asher to keep his promise as long as it put him in danger.

He threw what he could into his borrowed pack. He left the technical manuals, but he kept the clothes. He’d need them on whatever drift he ended up on, and the other passenger wasn’t coming back for them or for the bag he tossed the stuff into. He would need a few tools as well, just to remain inconspicuous, and he didn’t feel too terrible about throwing those into the case, too. Rowan could purchase more. He’d made sure the Star Stream’s systems were running at optimal levels, and Penelope wouldn’t need them for months.

He’d be long gone by then.

He had to leave. There was no question any longer. As much as he wanted to stay with Asher, he was a liability. And as he had tried to protect his brother months ago, he’d do the same for Asher. Even if it meant his own comfort. Or his own freedom.

He was startled when his door slammed open, but not surprised when Asher strode into the room, red-faced and furious. His hands clenched at his sides with his shoulders pulled back, his arm no longer in a sling, his spine ramrod straight, he looked as if he were going to battle.

“What are you doing?” he bit out. “Rowan said you threatened her?”

“Hardly,” Ren said. He shoved a pair of trousers into the luggage. “I asked her to take me to the nearest drift.”

“Or else you’d take us there yourself by reprogramming the nav controls. I read the message, Ren.”

“So what? Are you here to stop me?”

“No,” Asher said. He crossed his arms gingerly. “I’m here to help you pack.” Ren raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m here to stop you! Stars, Ren, you spend most of your time trying to prove to us you aren’t an idiot duster and then you go and do something like this. Are you addled?”

Ren narrowed his eyes. He grabbed a cake of soap out of their shared bathroom and put it in the pack. He would miss regular showers.

“I’m not addled. I’m leaving. I’m not going to put you in danger any longer. It was stupid for me to think I’d be able to be normal.”

“Ren, you’ll never be normal, psychopathic despots or not.”

Zipping up his bag, Ren hefted it to his shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” He brushed past Asher, but Asher grabbed his arm, right above the elbow.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Ren looked down at where Asher’s pale fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, dug into the skin of his arm underneath. “Let go.”

“No.” Asher squeezed tighter.

“Let. Go.”

“The answer is still no.”

Frustrated, Ren tried to pull his arm away to no avail. “Damn it, Ash! I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t want your protection.”

“Well, what do you want?”

Asher’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the question. He fumbled for a moment, stuttering for words, but then he narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow. He yanked on Ren’s arm, causing Ren to stumble forward and collide with Asher’s broad chest.

“Stars, Ash, what are you—”

The kiss was more a mash of mouths than anything else. Ren felt a frisson of his star seek out Asher’s shoulder, and a thrill of desire ran to his toes. Ren didn’t have time to register much else before Asher pulled away, his expression as shocked as Ren felt. Ren raised a hand to his bruised mouth, rested his fingertips against it as if he could hold the fleeting feel of Asher’s lips there. His pulse raced, and his mind blanked of everything other than the fact that Asher had kissed him.

Asher had kissed him. His first kiss. And it was something Nadie hadn’t predicted.

A hysterical laughed bubbled up in Ren’s throat, but he clamped down on it and bit it back as he pressed his fingers against the swell of his mouth.

“Why did you…?” Ren whispered, trailing off.

Asher dropped Ren’s arm as if he was burned and hurriedly stepped away. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Forget it happened.”

“No, I—”

“Don’t leave.” Asher shifted nervously. His face flushed; the tips of his ears turned a deep red. Staring at the floor or the wall over Ren’s shoulder, he refused to meet Ren’s gaze. “Just… don’t leave. Okay? I made you a promise. I can’t keep it if you go.”

“Okay,” Ren said, placing the packed bag at his feet. His voice was hoarse, and his tongue fumbled the word in his mouth. His lips tingled and his resolve lay in pieces at his feet. “I won’t. But we have to let Ollie and Lucas and Penelope choose what they want to do. I don’t want to be responsible for…”

“I know. You won’t be. We’ll talk with them.” Asher’s gaze flitted up for a moment, his cheeks pink, his mouth wet and red.

Ren wondered what Asher would do if Ren kissed him back, but he didn’t act.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Asher ducked his head.

“I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” Ren said quickly. Though Ren had no experience with romance, he was fairly certain most first kisses didn’t end like this, with the other party obviously uncomfortable and running away.

“I should. I didn’t mean to…” Asher’s fingers twitched. “I’ll tell Rowan you’ve decided to stay. She’ll call a crew meeting and we’ll talk it out. Everything will be okay.”

“Okay.”

Asher nodded. He backed toward the door, tripping over his boot and stumbling into the wall. He coughed, straightened his uniform and rested his hand on the door handle.

“See you soon.”

And then Asher was out the door, closing it behind him.

Ren stood in place. He took deep breaths and unclenched his hand from around the bag’s strap. He moved to his bed and sank down on the mattress.

He pushed a finger to his lower lip. It hurt, especially where one of Asher’s teeth had caught on the tender flesh. It was probably the worst first kiss in the history of kisses, but it was Ren’s, and his alone.

He couldn’t help but smile.

12

“We’re here to discuss what to do next,” Rowan said. She stood at the head of the table, hands on her hips, long blond braid slung over her shoulder. With her shoulders pulled back and her jaw clenched, she looked every inch a captain in her form-fitting black clothes with a pulser attached to her outer thigh. “The ship is running at optimal levels, so we have a few choices.”

Lucas sat to her left, Ollie on her right. Penelope sat next to her brother and Asher sat across from her. Ren was on the other end, tapping his fingers on the scarred wood.

“Lucas informs me there is an outlier drift not a day from here. We could head there and hide for a while. Asher contacted the Corps about the Nomad. Maybe they’ll believe Asher’s story now about the cog on our tail.”

“We can’t hide,” Asher said. “Abiathar will find us. He’ll try to capture Ren again. We can’t let that happen. You saw how powerful he is. If his star were to fall into the wrong hands, the Drift Alliance would fall to Baron Vos. No matter if he’s a duster or not.”

“Oh, I don’t vote for that then,” Penelope said softly. She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “What are the other options?”

“We go to Mykonos and meet with our mother. We’re several days away, but she will know what to do. With the power of the Phoenix Corps at her disposal, Ren would be safe.”

Ren ducked his head. He hated being the reason all this was happening, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“And the other possibility?” Asher asked.

Rowan took a breath. “We drop Ren off wherever he wants to go and wash our hands of the mess.”

“That’s not an option,” Asher bit out.

Ren wilted. “Ash,” he said softly.

“No, Ren.” Asher turned in his seat, his green eyes glittering. Since their kiss the day before, their interactions had been awkward and stilted. This was the first time Asher had talked to him directly. “It’s not an option.”

“Ash, if he wants to go, we can’t make him stay,” Penelope suggested lightly.

Asher glared at her. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot duster.”

Ren couldn’t help the small tug at the corner of his mouth. “Arrogant drifter,” he muttered. Asher kicked his foot under the table.

“Well, if Ren can’t leave, that’s not stopping the rest of you,” Rowan said. “You can disembark at the outlier drift and Asher and I will take Ren to Mykonos.” Rowan met Penelope’s gaze. “After everything is over, I’d come back for you.” She looked to Ollie and Lucas as well. “All of you.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but that’s bullshit,” Ollie said. “You and whoever else will have to pry me off this ship.”

Ren’s stomach sank.

Penelope smiled. “I’m staying with my family.”

“Same here,” Lucas said. He reached out and took Penelope’s hand.

“Please, don’t.” Ren’s voice went hoarse and quiet. “Don’t risk yourselves for me.”

Ollie shook his head. “No offense, but I’ve heard you’re an idiot duster who I’m not supposed to listen to.”

Ren’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “But… but—”

“Now it is settled,” Rowan said, cutting Ren off from commenting further. “We will follow a course to Mykonos under full power. Essential systems only to speed us along. Lucas, set a course. Ash, send a message to Mother. Ollie, I want all our weapons inventoried in case we run into something unpleasant. I won’t be threatened with boarding again. And Pen, you take stock of supplies—medical and otherwise.” Rowan placed her palms on the table and leaned over, gaze locked on Ren. “Ren, can you divert power to help get us there faster?”

“Yes,” Ren answered quickly. It was the least he could do, since they all seemed determined to risk their lives helping him. “Of course I can.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe you should get on that then?”

Ren shot to his feet and almost tripped over his own chair. Asher grabbed Ren’s arm to steady him, and Ren suppressed a shiver. Not only could Ren feel the pain in Asher’s shoulder, for a moment, he was back in his quarters a day ago, when Asher had molded his mouth to Ren’s and stolen a kiss.

“Don’t overdo it,” Asher said quietly.

Ren nodded, a blush burning in his cheeks and up the back of his neck. “I won’t. I promise. And I know how much stake you put in promises.”

A grin flirted around the corners of Asher’s mouth, and after a small squeeze, he released his grip on Ren.

Ren ducked out of the common room and headed to the engine compartment with the phantom feeling of Asher’s touch burning on his skin.

* * *

Hours later, the ship powered toward Mykonos as fast as the engine would allow. Ren had diverted as much power as he could, but the engine could only stand so much before it would burn up. The Star Stream moved toward the drift at an increased speed, but not fast enough for Ren’s liking. He wanted to meet with Councilor Morgan as soon as possible. He wanted to show her what he could do, why the Baron from Erden was dangerous. The sooner he did so, the sooner he could return home to his mother and Liam.

Liam.

He hadn’t thought about his brother in ages. He missed him. He missed his home, and the ache burned a hole in his middle. Ren didn’t know if it was a good thing that sometimes he could forget everything, push it down, especially when he was around Asher.

Asher, who had kissed him and tried to protect him, and who made Ren’s heart flutter like dragonfly wings.

Ren thought he had shut down the romantic part of himself the moment he had been captured. After all, the days sleeping next to Sorcha had stirred nothing within him. Now, with the ever-present phantom sensation of Asher’s lips against his, he knew that part was very much alive, and he wanted to give in to it.

Since the kiss, their interactions were awkward, with stilted words, blushes and barely-there eye contact, and Ren couldn’t live on tenterhooks. He needed Asher, especially when facing whatever lay ahead, and he wasn’t too proud to admit it.

Approaching the crew quarters, Ren steeled himself. Asher’s door was open, but Ren didn’t want to barge in. He knocked on the frame, and Asher looked up from where he reading his tablet. He set the device down and stood. He wasn’t wearing his crisp uniform, but a soft-looking shirt and a pair of pants, which might have come from Ollie’s closet since the hems brushed the tops of his toes.

“Hey,” Ren said softly.

Asher crossed his arms and then uncrossed them. He put his hands in his pockets, pulled them out and settled for placing them on his hips. He hid his wince poorly. His shoulder was obviously sore from their encounter with Abiathar.

“Hey.” He swallowed. “You doing all right? Do you need something?”

Ren shrugged. He leaned on the doorframe, trying for nonchalant despite the churning in his stomach. “I’d like to talk, if that’s okay?”

Asher cast a glance at the tablet and frowned. “Sure.”

“Has your mother responded?”

A furrow appeared on Asher’s brow. “No. But it could be lag.”

Judging by Asher’s tone, he didn’t believe it.

“I could check the communication system again.” Ren jerked his thumb toward the hallway.

Asher waved his hand. “No. I’m sure we’ll hear soon.”

Ren rocked back on his heels. “Can I come in?”

Blinking, Asher seemed to realize they were standing in the doorway facing each other. “Oh, yeah, come on in.”

Ren walked in and settled on the edge of Asher’s bunk. He was so nervous he felt as if he could crawl out of his skin. He kept his back straight and his body tense, and he hated that the familiarity, the ease and comfort, of their friendship had all but vanished.

Asher didn’t meet Ren’s gaze as he lowered into the chair next to his desk. Ren didn’t know how to begin, and when he finally gathered his courage, Asher cut him off.

“I’m sorry,” Asher said. He watched his hands, slowly flexing his fingers. “I shouldn’t have… done what I did.”

Asher’s words felt like a slap. Ren flinched.

Asher read the reaction the wrong way.

“You’re my friend,” he added quickly. “The best friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want a mistake to ruin our friendship.”

Asher leaned over to pat Ren’s knee, but he gasped halfway through the action. Grimacing, he snatched his hand back and curled his arm against his chest. He touched his shoulder with his other hand and rubbed the joint.

“You’re hurt,” Ren said, his concern for Asher overriding his own confusion and disappointment.

Asher rolled his shoulder and bit his lip to contain a grunt of pain. It didn’t work, and Ren could see the hurt written clearly in Asher’s features.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Ren stood. “I could help you,” he said, moving to the back of Asher’s chair. “I’ve felt the mechanism before.”

Asher waved him away. “Don’t trouble yourself. Don’t waste your gift.”

“Ash,” Ren said softly. “It’s not a waste. And… we need you. The crew needs you healthy and able when we face whatever it is we’re about to face.”

Asher ran a hand down his face and slumped forward. “Ren, please—”

“I need you.” Asher’s body went stiff at the declaration and Ren plowed on. “I need you, Ash. I need you to keep me grounded and real. I need your voice. I need your presence or I’m going to break apart.”

“Okay,” Asher said. “Okay, see what you can do.”

Tentatively, Ren moved close, standing behind Asher as he sat in his chair. Trembling, Ren brushed his fingers down the line of Asher’s neck. Asher shivered under his touch, and Ren settled his palm on the curve of Asher’s injured shoulder, under the collar of his shirt. The fabric brushed Ren’s wrist. Asher’s skin was hot under his hand; the raised scar was rough against his palm.

“Let me know if I hurt you.”

Asher merely nodded, and Ren released his star. Heat prickled all over Ren’s body; he closed his eyes and followed the pull of the mechanism in Asher’s shoulder.

Usually when Ren merged with a device, he could see everything, from one expanse to another. Within the ship, he could travel from the bridge to the hold in a blink. Probing Asher’s shoulder was different. The space around the wound was flesh and dark to Ren’s star gaze, but the metal and circuit joint of his shoulder glowed in Ren’s vision. He could see it, how Asher’s shoulder was obliterated, how titanium reinforced the bones and where the mechanisms melded with flesh. Asher was both man and machine, as Ren was.

“There’s a gear out of alignment,” Ren said. “I’m going to fix it. It might hurt.”

Ren felt Asher tense and steel himself. “Okay,” he said.

The pressure built. The first jolt of the star had to be painful, and Ren grimaced as he felt the gears shifting, moving, as they slotted into place. Energy crackled down Ren’s arms and into his fingers, which dug into Asher’s flesh, and the fine hairs of his arms stood on end. With force and power, Ren strained as both he and the star manipulated the joint, and then everything clicked.

Asher jerked and let out a small cry followed by a sob. “Oh,” Asher said, sagging forward. “Oh, oh stars, that was… that was…” He shuddered.

Ren snapped back into his body like a rubber band. His fingers creaked when he unclenched them from Asher’s shoulder, and he could see the indents where his fingers had dug in, but Asher didn’t seem bothered. He stood and turned, mouth open, expression dazed and awed.

“There’s no pain,” he whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it come undone. He rolled his shoulder. “I can’t believe it.” He wobbled and Ren caught him.

“How did it feel?” Ren asked, manhandling Asher to his bunk. Together they sat on the bed, hip to hip, Ren’s arm around Asher’s back.

“There was pressure and tingling and pain, and then relief. The absence of pain is amazing. I feel drunk… and sleepy.”

Ren smiled. “Maybe you should sleep then.”

“No.” Asher shook his head. “What did it look like to you?”

“Beautiful,” Ren said without thinking. He flushed immediately. “I mean, I could see the mechanism. It’s hurt you for a while, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t think I can remember a time since I was injured that my shoulder hasn’t hurt.”

Ren nodded. “I could feel it before when we touched. I think that’s why I sparked sometimes, because my star wanted to fix it. Fix you.” Ren looked at Asher. He was drowsy, on the verge of sleep, his eyes half-lidded. “I should go.”

Ren pulled his arm away.

“Wait. You wanted to talk, and I didn’t let you. So talk now,” Asher said with a wave of his hand. His pupils were blown wide and his movements were clumsy.

Ren bit back a laugh. It didn’t seem fair to broach the subject now, with Asher delirious from pain relief, but Ren couldn’t continue the way they were. He took a steadying breath and turned slightly. Wanting Asher to have no questions or doubts, Ren placed his hands on either side of Asher’s face with his fingertips lightly brushing the fuzz of Asher’s shorn hair.

Asher’s eyes were wide. Their vibrant green reminded Ren of the lush fields near his village.

“What are you—” Asher started, but Ren stopped him by pressing his mouth to Asher’s.

It wasn’t really a kiss, more a light brush of Ren’s lips over Asher’s, but Ren felt the shock of it down to his toes. He pulled away and dropped his hands to his lap, blushing hotly.

“When everything is over, we’ll figure this out,” Ren said softly, staring at the floor. “Until then, we’ll be the friends we were before. No more awkwardness between us. I wasn’t lying when I said I need you.”

Asher’s fingers curled around Ren’s palm. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Ren’s stomach fluttered, and his heart thumped so hard he swore Asher could hear it.

“For the record,” Asher continued, “I need you too. I would be sitting in a cage on your backwater planet right now if it weren’t for you. I’d still be in pain.”

Ren smirked. “How you’re able to compliment me and insult me in the same breath is a talent.”

Asher squeezed Ren’s fingers. “It’s a gift born of my superior upbringing on a drift.”

“Arrogant drifter.”

“Idiot duster,” Asher replied, the fondness in his tone causing Ren to smile widely. “Hey, want to go to the common room and play a board game and eat all the food?”

“You’re not too tired?”

Asher shrugged, then grinned and pointed to his shoulder. “I may fall asleep on the couch but I promise not to snore.”

“Yes,” Ren said. “That sounds perfect.”

Asher stood, keeping his hand clasped with Ren’s. He tugged Ren to standing. “Come on. Let’s see if Ollie wants to get trounced again.”

Ren laughed, feeling happy and warm, and allowed Asher to lead him out of the room and down the hallway.

%

“No word from Mother?” Rowan asked. She sat in her captain’s chair, staring at the pinprick that was Mykonos Drift on the view screen. They would dock in under an hour.

“Nothing.” Asher, in his uniform, stood at her side.

Rowan squinted and tapped on the screen next to her chair. “No radio traffic.” She frowned. “That’s weird. We should be within range to hear not only the drift but any ships docking or leaving. But there’s nothing.”

The drift was a spinning beacon in the midst of the blackness of space, but upon their approach Ren noticed several differences from Delphi. There was no ship traffic, no chatter on the open comms and no pleasant welcome from the docking authority. Ren couldn’t even feel a crackle of the energy that should be present.

Lucas squirmed in the pilot’s seat. “And we’ve run into no other ships. Mykonos is a busy port. We should have at least two or three other ships on the same trajectory.”

Ren and Asher exchanged a glance.

“Lucas, approach with caution. Ren, can you boost the sensors?” Rowan asked. She stared at the spinning drift, which was slowly growing in size on the screen.

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

Ren pressed his hand to the navigation console and flickered in. Within seconds, he was peering out of the sensors, taking in everything he could, processing the information. There was little of it. Crackling along the circuits, Ren pushed farther, extended his star outward, and that’s when he felt it.

It wasn’t enemy ships that had Ren gasping back to his body, but sensing another star. A technopath was on the drift, dampening the drift signature and hiding the communications between the drift and the ships. Ren could sense her presence, curious and seeking, poking at him as he danced away from her. He retreated into the data of the Star Stream to hide from her.

He focused on the other ships. A few of them Ren knew well, from the hangar on Erden, but there was a large one, a flagship, which Ren didn’t recognize. He couldn’t get a read on anything more.

Asher was at Ren’s side in an instant. “What? What did you see?”

“Ships,” Ren said on a gulp. “Several of them hiding on the other side of the drift. And there’s someone like me there.”

“You could feel them?”

“And she could feel me. They know we’re coming.”

13

“What do you mean someone like you?” Rowan barked. She stood on the bridge, hands on her hips. Eyes wide and round, Lucas looked over his shoulder at them and kept his hands on the steering controls, though he wasn’t using them at the moment.

“Another star host. I could feel her.”

“And what are they doing on Mykonos?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Asher asked. “The other technopath is under Abiathar’s control. He used her to take over the drift.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yes, but it’s true. And it’s only the start. Once the Baron establishes a base out here, it’s only a matter of time before he expands further.”

“Ollie and Penelope,” Rowan said, slamming her hand down on the comm, “get to the bridge. Now.” Rowan took a deep breath and tugged on the end of her braid. She began to pace, talking low, almost to herself. “Okay, so the drift our mother lives on has been invaded by the lapdog of a psychotic despot. The Phoenix Corps detachment there must have been overrun. We have no weapons, which means our only chance is stealth. I wonder if Mother was able to get a message to another Corps regiment.” She snapped her head up. “Set up a repeating beacon. A distress signal to alert the Phoenixes and a warning for everyone else to stay away.”

“I can do that,” Ren said.

“No, let Ash do it. We need you on the sensors. We need to know if there is any movement by those ships on the other side.”

“Too late, Cap,” Lucas said, gaze glued to the vid screen. “We have one already incoming. And a large one at that.”

“Who’s coming?” Ollie asked as he and his sister entered the bridge. “Please tell me they are friendly.”

“No such luck, Ollie,” Lucas said, flipping switches to shift the piloting to manual. “They’ve seen us and they are approaching fast.”

“So much for stealth,” Asher said, casting Rowan a wry glance. “Beacon set. We can hope it will draw attention before we’re blasted out of space.”

“Evasive maneuvers, Lucas,” Rowan said calmly, though her fingers were wrapped tight around her braid. “And the rest of you brace yourselves for engagement.”

Ren grimaced, anxiety bubbling into his throat. The ship approaching the Star Stream was easily five times larger than any ship Ren had seen in the hangar. Weapons array locked, it bore down on them. Ren had the sinking suspicion that they hadn’t been blown out of the sky only because the other technopath knew Ren was aboard.

Asher rolled his shoulders. “There’s still a chance we can outrun them. Retreat and bring back a Corps regiment of our own. Maybe they’ll believe us now.”

He was cut off by a warning shot across the bow.

The ship pitched beneath Ren’s feet, and he grabbed the wall to keep standing.

Rowan barked orders for evasive action while Asher and Ollie tried to gather intelligence on the attacking ship. Penelope manned the sensors and fed Lucas information about positions and tactics as Lucas kept them an erratically moving target.

The next shot was not a warning, and the ship rocked. Instruments shorted in a flurry of sparks.

“We’re losing power,” Penelope shouted. “Long range sensors are gone.”

“It’s a good thing it’s close combat then,” Rowan yelled back over the sound of the metal groaning in distress.

Ren felt the panic of the crew rising as the uncertainty of survival increased with every broken system, every pop in the metal.

Another blast struck the port side, and the ship juddered. More sparks flew.

Ren had to do something, but he was strangely calm. Panic and fear made his star unpredictable. He needed control, especially since he did not intend to run away again.

Taking a deep breath, Ren walked across the bridge and gently pushed Penelope away from the sensor console.

“Ren, what are you doing?” She grabbed Ollie’s arm to keep standing.

“What I need to,” Ren said. He looked at Asher, who stared back at him. “Keep your promise,” Ren said. “Don’t let me become a monster.”

Asher gave him a short nod. Ren bit his lip, trying to convey everything to Asher in one last look: all his desires and his fears and everything he wanted to do with Asher, but probably wouldn’t get the chance to. Ren hoped Asher understood.

A proximity alarm blared as the enemy ship closed. Ren turned his attention to the sensor console. He laid his palms flat against it and let the star free.

Ren shook, his whole body quivering as his power rushed through the ship, repairing everything. Flickers of electricity, blue and gold, tangled over themselves, climbed over the walls and the floor, seeking and fixing as Ren trembled. His gaze went blue. He curled his hands into the metal and clenched his eyes shut.

He flooded into the sensors, downloading the data about the other ship. The signature indicated the ship was named The Argonaut. The crew manifest showed forty-four hands. He cast it on the bridge vid screen. He heard his crew’s comments, their panic, their shouts. He felt the frizzles and pops of circuits as the Star Stream absorbed another blast. It was all muffled, as if he were under water, as when he dunked his head in the lake and Liam tried to talk to him from above the surface.

His body swayed with the movement of Lucas’s piloting. He distantly felt the metal warm from the touch of his fingers. Yet he was detached. He was there, but he wasn’t. He was both man and machine, like Asher. He was part of the crew and part of the ship. And as he heard the crew’s cries and felt the fission of another blast spark through the inner workings of the ship, Ren didn’t care about the battle or his friends.

What did they matter when he was part of the ship? What did anything matter, really? This was where he belonged, dancing among the circuits, at one with the systems. He was powerful this way, as a beam of light, as a star. What was his humanity worth if it only brought heartache and pain? Guilt and jealousy? He was fragile as flesh and blood, but as energy he was eternal. He pictured his consciousness hurtling through space, hopping from star to star, ship to ship, free of all confines. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“Ren!” Asher’s voice cut through the haze.

Ren opened his eyes to slits. He realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the The Argonaut and so had put them all in danger. Asher was in danger. And while Ren might survive, there was no life for Asher as either man or machine if the Star Stream were obliterated in space.

With a thought, Ren dove back into the sensory array. He reversed the mechanism and, instead of bringing information in, he aimed his power outward. He could feel the presence of the other technopath, a phantom existence on the periphery of his senses, but that was not what warranted his attention. The other ship launched two more blasts, and they headed straight for the Star Stream.

They would be destroyed.

Ren hunched over and gritted his teeth. His entire body quaked. Crackling blue energy gathered in the corners of the bridge, just as it had when Ren teleported them.

The blue pulse emanated from the ship in a flash of light and a blast of sound. It caught the incoming projectiles in a wave and froze them in their trajectories. Ren watched with satisfaction as the missiles fell apart, deconstructed, were rendered harmless under the force of his concentrated power.

Ren thought it brilliant. He could only imagine how the others saw it. They were probably terrified, but that was not Ren’s problem.

Shuddering, sweat beading along his skin, his hair damp, spine bowed, Ren attempted to rein everything in, tried to shove a stopper back into the dam wall. He couldn’t.

“Ren,” Asher said, voice low, gentle, barely permeating the haze Ren was firmly ensconced in. “Listen to me. Let it go.”

“I can’t,” Ren gasped. “Not until you’re safe.” He pushed further and felt his body resist; the star cracked through him as if hatching from an egg. Light poured from his eyes and his fingertips. “Disabling weapons systems on The Argonaut.” His voice came out in monotone, but he barely noticed.

The vid screen displayed another pulse of energy from the Star Stream.

Ren bent in half, with his forehead on the console and his legs barely holding him up. “Disabling engines and sensors.”

Another wave shot out.

“Captain, the other ship is hailing us,” Penelope said. “They want to talk about cessation of hostilities.”

Ollie laughed. “Look who is ready to negotiate terms of surrender.”

“Ren,” Asher said again, “you’re done. Disengage. We’re safe now. You’ve done your job.”

Ren heard him, but kept his sweating palms flat against the metal. He shook his head; his forehead rolled on the console. Ren couldn’t trust the captain of the other ship. He could only trust himself and Asher. The words of advice Ren had spoken to Asher about having faith in others pinged in his memory. He shoved them aside.

“On screen,” Rowan said, sitting primly in her chair.

The captain of The Argonaut appeared in front of them. Frantic and terrified, he begged and pleaded with them to call off their technopath.

“I’ve never seen one so powerful,” he babbled. “And you have him loose!” His wide, frightened eyes stared at Ren, who was glowing. “How are you controlling him? Make him stop!”

Ren took a deep breath and ignored the stinging words.

Rowan ignored them as well. “Where is Abiathar?”

“On the drift.”

“And how did he take control of Mykonos? I assume that is what happened here.”

He nodded, head bobbing. “He has a technopath with him. Not nearly as powerful as yours. But she helped him. They snuck her onto the drift and she took over. Once she had control, we moved in as support.”

“And the Baron? Is he here as well?”

The captain shifted uneasily. “His location is unknown to us, but we assume he is nearby.”

Asher scoffed.

Rowan ignored him. “Why Mykonos? Nineveh is a better strategic position for movement within the Drift Alliance.”

The captain bit his lip and for the first time seemed reticent.

Rowan tented her fingers. “I can have my technopath get it out of you.”

“No! He was looking for a Councilor Morgan.”

Ren’s stomach sank. Asher’s mother. Abiathar was after Asher’s mother. And he was after her because he knew Asher and Ren would flee to her or, if Asher and Ren had parted ways, that Asher would have information about Ren’s location.

Asher’s gasp was audible.

It pained Ren. And he thought about his own mother. He thought about Sorcha and Jakob and the other families torn apart.

Anger bloomed, swift and hot, and the last vestige of control Ren commanded over his star melted away in fury and hurt.

He snapped to attention, spine straight, and turned his cold, glowing eyes on the captain.

“The Argonaut is wanted in connection with crimes against the Drift Alliance, including the violation of protected trade routes, the unwarranted attack on a ship, aiding and abetting the criminal known as Abiathar, and the seizure of Mykonos Drift. The Argonaut, forty-four hands. The Star Stream’s capacity is fifteen total. Apprehension of adversary crew is impossible.” His voice was monotonous, far away, like an echo in his head.

“Ren, what are you doing?” Asher asked, tentatively.

“Ensuring justice. Sealing bulkheads.”

The chorus of outrage from The Argonaut’s captain and the Star Stream’s crew didn’t faze Ren at all.

“Atmospheric ventilation in four minutes.”

“You can’t do this! We surrender!”

“Ren, pull out. This isn’t you. This is the star.”

Ren shuddered as Asher’s voice permeated his being, shook him to the marrow of his bones. Ren knew what he was doing wasn’t right, but he couldn’t stop. The images of Jakob, of Sorcha, of Liam flashed through his mind like a holovid. He remembered the fear and the pain and the thirst he’d felt as he and Asher stumbled over the countryside. He remembered the anxiety he’d experienced on Cass’s ship and the guilt that followed when they found the pieces of her home and family scattered across the trade route. He remembered the way Abiathar controlled him, and his helplessness when Abiathar’s voice sank into his consciousness, compelling him like a puppet on strings.

“Atmospheric ventilation in two minutes.”

Rowan’s voice went shrill. “Ash, sever the link!”

“Ren!” Asher yelled. “I made a promise. I’m not going to let you do this.”

Ren’s mouth pulled into a smirk. As if Asher could stop him. Didn’t he know Ren was a star? He was unstoppable, irreproachable. He was above them all.

One moment, Ren mentally counted down the seconds to rendering justice, and the next, Asher wrapped his arms around Ren’s torso and they tumbled to the deck plate. Ren fought with his human body. He scrambled for purchase, turned over onto his stomach and crawled back toward the console. His hands sought out any metal he could touch and control.

Asher yanked him back by the belt loops on his trousers, but Ren merely placed his hands on the bulkhead and remained connected to the ship, tangled in her systems. Asher grabbed Ren’s fingers and let out a cry when Ren’s star inadvertently sparked into his body, seeking the mechanism in Asher’s shoulder. Ren vaguely realized he had hurt Asher, but disconnected as he was, he didn’t care.

Ren fought, grappling and twisting in Asher’s grip.

“This isn’t you,” Asher gritted out. “Listen to me, Ren. Fight it.”

“Atmospheric ventilation in sixty seconds.”

“Ollie!” Asher yelled, as he and Ren tumbled across the bridge. “A little help!”

Ren shouted as Ollie wrested him out of Asher’s grasp and then pulled Ren to standing. Ren squirmed in Ollie’s hold, wriggled and fought, until Ollie clamped him in a bear hug and restrained Ren by holding him to his chest. Ollie grabbed Ren’s wrists, wrapped them in his large hands and pinned them by Ren’s sides. Ren’s fingers twitched. His eyes glowed, bathing his vision in blue static. Though he was no longer physically touching the ship, Ren’s star sought out the systems. Tangles of electricity crawled down his arms and dripped from his fingers. He was beyond humanity, beyond control, enslaved by the pull of the machines.

Asher stood, rolled his shoulder and kept his distance, beyond Ren’s reach. “Ren! You have to stop. Listen to my voice. Come back to me.”

“Twenty seconds until atmospheric—”

Asher surged forward and kissed him.

As in a fairy tale, the moment Asher’s lips touched his, Ren snapped back into his body. He blinked away the static, gasped into Asher’s mouth and kissed him back with fervor. When Asher broke away, Ren wilted against Ollie’s chest and pressed his face into Asher’s palm where he tenderly cupped Ren’s cheek.

“Atmosphere ventilation averted,” Penelope said, breaking the confused silence. “In case anyone cares.”

Asher dropped his hand, and if not for Ollie holding him up, Ren would have crumpled. As it was, his knees were weak, his lips tingled, and he was speechless.

The captain of The Argonaut was not.

“I told you they needed to be controlled!” he yelled. His face turned red, and his eyes bugged. Faces pale, his crew stood behind him. “Technopaths have no empathy. They are not human. Yours needs to be locked up, or better yet, destroyed before he kills someone.”

Ren controlled his flinch, and Asher reached out to touch Ren’s wrist but halted with his fingers curling into his palm. Ren’s stomach twisted and he bit back bile at the thought of Asher afraid of him.

The captain watched him with a frightened but shrewd gaze. Ren needed to portray strength, not the exhaustion that had started to settle in, or horror at his own actions.

“He is an aberration. Star hosts have no right to be among us humans.”

Ren stared at the captain defiantly.

Rowan drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair. “Are you finished?”

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Good. Now tell the other ships to stand down. We know they are on the other side of the drift. So unless they want to experience the terror of facing down the cluster’s most powerful technopath, tell them to back off.”

He nodded.

“If any of you try to stop us, he’ll destroy you. If anyone alerts Abiathar, he will know. Do not test the wrath of my technopath. Understand?”

“We understand.”

“Good. Since your systems have been disabled, I’d wait patiently for a Corps regiment. We’ll put in a good word for you, since you surrendered so amicably. Morgan out.”

The vid screen went blank.

A tense silence settled on the bridge. Asher avoided Ren’s gaze. Ollie’s grip was like a vise on Ren’s arms. Penelope wandered close to Lucas and took his hand in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

Ren ached.

“Your technopath?” Ren rasped out.

Rowan strode across the bridge to where Ollie held Ren. Asher shuffled to the side, head bowed.

“You’re part of my crew, human or star or stupid teenager from Erden.” She wagged a finger in his face. “But if you ever do something like that again, I’ll pitch you out of an airlock. Am I clear?”

Ren blinked slowly. “Yes?”

“Good.” Her expression softened, and her voice took on a motherly tone, which Ren found disconcerting. “Now are you ready to storm the drift, save my mother, capture Abiathar and take on the other technopath, or do you need a minute with my brother?”

Asher’s head snapped up. Ren straightened and disengaged from Ollie’s grasp. The room spun, but he was determined.

“I need a minute and then I’ll be ready.”

“Fine. I’ll comm you when we dock or if we run into any problems.”

* * *

Standing in the hallway next to the crew quarters, Ren rested heavily against the wall. Asher stood across from him, stiff and uncertain. He cleared his throat, and Ren winced.

“I’m sorry—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

Ren bit his lip and chuckled. Asher blushed.

“You go first,” Asher said.

Ren studied the deck plate. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I couldn’t stop the star. And I couldn’t stop thinking about… everything. The things we’ve been through made destroying the other ship seem like the moral choice.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Asher didn’t meet Ren’s gaze. “Your thoughts flashed on the screen. We saw everything. Your brother. Jakob. You and I in the forest. It was a montage of your darkest moments, and I understand why the star would push you to render justice.”

Humiliation washed over Ren. Everyone had seen. They knew. That was why Rowan wanted to coddle him in the midst of an emergency. “It doesn’t excuse anything, Ash. I hurt you and I knew I had done it, and I didn’t care.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right! My past doesn’t justify murder.”

Asher raised his hands, placating. “I know. I know, Ren.”

Ren tugged on his hair. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I understand if you don’t want me to touch you again.”

Ren couldn’t stifle the gasp of surprise when he felt Asher’s fingers tangle with his. Something inside of him snapped back into place, and Asher’s touch filled him with warmth. His humanity had never seemed more real. The points of contact where their skin met hummed, and Ren wanted to sink into the feeling.

“I’m not scared of you,” Asher said in a low voice.

“You should be.”

“Afraid of a duster twig? Never.”

Ren managed a half-hearted grin at the familiar teasing. “Thank you for stopping me.”

“I should’ve figured out a better way to do it.” Asher finally lifted his head and met Ren’s gaze. His green eyes were warm and pierced Ren’s core, filled him in a way the star never could.

Heat crept into Ren’s cheeks. “It was a fine way.”

“We said we’d wait until everything was over. I should have honored that. I should have tried punching you instead.”

Ren pulled a face. “I’d rather have the kiss.”

“Yeah,” Asher said, rocking back on his heels. “Me, too. I’ll remember that for next time.”

The small smile Ren wore dropped away. “I don’t want there to be a next time.”

Asher’s grip tightened on Ren’s fingers. “I don’t want there to be a next time either. Are you okay?”

Ren’s smile was wan. “I’m not sure. My body is a little weak. My mind is jumbled. I don’t want to lose my humanity, or you. I’m not sure I can prevent that.”

“You can. I’ll help you. We’ll all help you. Ren, you’re incredible. We just need to figure out how to keep you grounded.”

“Kissing helps.”

Asher laughed. “We’ll keep that in our back pocket. Anything else?”

Ren furrowed his brow. “Your voice. I can hear it, even when I can’t hear anything else, when it’s all static.” Ren thought about the times he had merged with machines and remembered the time on the ship, when Oz had asked him a question. He had posed a paradox, and it had forced Ren’s humanity to the surface. “You can ask me a paradox.”

“What?”

Ren shivered; the sheen of sweat covering him was like ice. “When I slip under, use your voice to bring me back. Ask me a paradox. When I’m in the machines, I cannot answer them.”

“Are you certain?”

Ren nodded, throat dry. “Yes. Yes, it will work.”

“All right then. I’ll think of a few impossible questions to have at my disposal.”

“Heh,” Ren said. “Let’s hope we don’t have to use them.”

“Agreed.”

They grinned at each other. Asher flexed his hand, gripping Ren’s fingers tightly. They stood there for a long moment. Ren’s heart fluttered, and, despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t begin to regret any of it.

14

Lucas had no trouble docking the ship. The automated procedures emanating from the drift repeated eerily onto the bridge as Lucas maneuvered the Star Stream closer to Mykonos. They glided into the slip and settled in, landing lightly on the extended landing pads. The doors closed behind them, the metal halves meeting smoothly, and Ren gulped at the fact they were now locked in, at the mercy of Abiathar and the other technopath.

He could feel her, even without being connected to the ship or the drift. She hovered on the perimeter of his consciousness. She knew he was there and she was surely under Abiathar’s control. But she had allowed them to dock, and Ren wondered if this was all an elaborate trap.

As they waited for pressurization, the crew gathered at the bay door. Asher stood close to Ren, their shoulders brushing, and Ren tried to focus on anything but the heat of him.

“Ollie, you are with Ren and Asher and me. Lucas and Penelope, I want you two to stay with the ship. Protect it and be ready in case we have to flee.”

Penelope nodded and Lucas gave Rowan a jaunty salute.

Rowan unlocked a metal cage attached to the wall. The door creaked open and revealed a veritable stockade of weapons. She surveyed it critically for a moment before pulling out a small pulser about the length of her hand and passing it to Penelope.

“It should be fully charged. No one but us comes aboard.”

Penelope smiled bravely. “I can do that.”

Rowan handed Ollie a large weapon that reminded Ren of the stunners back on Erden. Asher took a pulser, and Lucas did as well.

Rowan looked at Ren, and he felt like a worm on a hook. She raised an eyebrow and picked up one of the guns and offered it to him.

“No,” he blurted. He flushed as the others looked at him. “No. I mean, you’ve seen what I can do with systems. What if… my star… I don’t want to hurt anyone. I could, accidentally, if you give me a weapon.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Ollie asked, hefting the large weapon on his shoulder.

“We go in. We assess. We find Mother. We do what we need to until the Corps arrives and then we step back. Understood?” She pinned Asher with her gaze. “Don’t do anything heroic or stupid.”

“Why are you directing that at me?” Asher said. He slid his gun into the holster strapped to his thigh. “I’m the only one here with actual military experience.”

“Do you really have to ask? I grew up with you, cog. I know what you’re like. I know what your promises get you into.”

Asher blushed and looked away. Ren wanted to know what Asher’s reaction meant, but he filed it away for later. Now was not the time.

“Are we ready?”

“Ladies first,” Ollie said, with a gesture.

Rowan made a rude gesture, but turned to the door. She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and opened it.

Everyone stood at the ready. Ren tensed, his pulse thrumming, his palms sweaty.

The door creaked on its hinges, and Rowan winced as the sound echoed through the slip. She continued to pull, and slowly the door opened to reveal… nothing.

Nervous laughter bubbled from Ren’s throat. Rowan arched an eyebrow, and with Asher leading, his hands gripping his weapon tightly, they funneled out of the ship. Ollie closed the door behind them after one last wave to his sister.

The fact that there wasn’t a platoon of Abiathar’s soldiers there to greet them wasn’t the only thing that pinged wrong. The entire drift was vacant. Mykonos housed thousands of people, and even more visited daily, but all the inhabitants were gone or in hiding. The boards were lit, blasting ads and information. Music blared, jarring in the otherwise silence. Lights blinked and blinded, baring their movements to the cameras mounted in the ceiling.

Asher crouched low, silent as he looked around their immediate area. He held a finger to his lips, pointed at Rowan and Ollie, and the two fanned out on either side, weapons at the ready.

Ren was impressed that they knew what to do though Asher hadn’t uttered a word. He was also mesmerized by the way Asher took control. Ren had seen it before, when they escaped and when they stumbled across the countryside. Ren hadn’t been able to appreciate it then, but now he admired Asher’s efficiency of movement and his tactical prowess as he led the group from the slip and onto the main floor of the drift level.

“We’re sitting ducks with those cameras and this light.” Asher looked to Ren. “Can you shut off the lights and cameras?”

“Yes.”

Asher nodded. “Do it then.”

Ren placed his hand on the bulkhead, fingers splayed, metal cool under his palm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His power raced out and he sensed the presence of the other technopath in the system. She was much stronger there than when he felt her from the Star Stream, but she was distracted by other duties. She tolerated him in her space, and he took advantage of that.

Ren found the route from the power supply to the lights and severed it with a thought. Next, he found the video feeds. He rerouted them, tangled the stream in a mess of circuits. It would take time for the other technopath to detangle them, and Ren hoped that by then, they’d be either safe or long gone.

Ren heard a whisper of his name. He knew it was Asher calling for him, and he felt the ghost of Asher’s touch on his physical body. He disconnected, easing back into his corporeal self. Ren opened his eyes and found Asher’s hand clamped around his wrist. He let out a shaky breath and they shared a glance. Ren knew Asher checked his eyes, but Ren didn’t care when Asher gave him a grin and a nod for a job well done.

When Ren pulled his gaze away, he found the drift dark and soundless.

Asher took no chances. They stuck to the deeper shadows between the glow of emergency lights. They darted between kiosks full of goods and hid behind overturned benches. Ducking behind a large potted plant, Asher held up his hand as they reached a cross section. He scanned the area and waved them forward into an alcove, where a large map of the drift spread across the wall.

“What now?” Rowan asked, as they studied the map.

The drift consisted of stacked levels. Each level was the shape of a wheel in which the hallways that connected to the core were the spokes and the curves were the outermost areas. Each level connected to the one below or above it via a lift. According to the map, Mykonos consisted of twenty-five levels, which in the dark would make for a dangerous game of chutes and ladders.

“We find the Corps regiment stationed here. It won’t be large, a couple hundred at the most, but they should be around here somewhere.” Asher tapped a spot on the map. “The Corps recruitment office is on the fifteenth level. We’re on the tenth. We need to go up.”

“Mother’s office is on the sixteenth and her apartment is on the twelfth. We should look there as well.”

“I can tap into the comms and try to find any radio chatter,” Ren offered. “I can also hook into the cameras and try to locate the Corps.”

Asher clenched his jaw. It was obvious he didn’t want Ren overexerting his power.

“I’ll be fine,” Ren assured.

“You better,” Asher answered. He took a breath. “Go ahead.”

Ren pressed his fingertips to the wall and closed his eyes. Immediately, the other technopath was there, pressing back as Ren tried to dive in. Irritated at his intrusion, she blocked him with her presence.

Get out.

Her voice was an odd sensation of sound and touch.

No.

Ren shouldered in, looked for the comm system and realized it was useless. She could hear everything as well as he could, and the Corps wouldn’t be stupid enough to broadcast their whereabouts. He was forced to try the video, which he had sufficiently tangled only a few minutes ago.

She was waiting, angry and frustrated. She had yet to unravel his mess.

Fix it, she demanded.

No.

Then get out!

This was pain Ren hadn’t felt before. He knew she couldn’t do anything to him physically, not with Asher, Rowan and Ollie protecting his body. But she did something to him, something that had him gasping and retreating with pain blooming sharp and real. A wave of sickness overtook him. It made him feel weak and nauseated. His star flinched from the onslaught.

He pulled out with a cry and fell to his knees. Pain spiked in his head, drowning out everything around him. Black dots danced in his vision, and his ears rang with high-pitched sounds. Ren dry-heaved, back arching, his hands and knees planted on the drift floor. Sweat prickled on the back of his neck, and he felt ill in a way he hadn’t since he was a child.

“Ren. Ren! What is going on?”

“She did something to me.”

“What did she do?” Rowan asked. She dropped down beside him and petted his head. Her fingers were a comfort threading through his hair.

“I don’t know,” he gasped. “But she didn’t want me in there. She was mad.”

“I thought you were more powerful than her,” Ollie said. “Couldn’t you fight back?”

Ren should’ve been able to, but he couldn’t. He shook his head, swallowing the bile that wanted to crawl out of his mouth. “No. I didn’t know how.”

“She’s under Abiathar’s control. Maybe it was something he taught her.”

Ren took a few deep breaths, which helped to stop the nausea and clear the black dots in his vision. He shivered and ungracefully made it to his feet with Rowan and Ollie’s help.

“You look pale,” Rowan said. “Maybe you should go back to the ship. You’ve done what you could, but with the other technopath in there, you won’t be able to help us now.”

“No,” Ren said. “I’m staying.”

“Ren, maybe it would be safer,” Asher said, offering a fleeting touch on Ren’s hand. “Abiathar’s here and I don’t want to risk—”

“Yes, he’s here. And he has a lot to answer for, and I’m going to be there when he does.”

Asher’s lips pressed into a grim line, but he acquiesced. “Fine. We should keep moving. She probably knows where we are now, and she might alert some of Abiathar’s soldiers.”

“I don’t think that’s a probably,” Ollie said, softly, hefting his gun to his shoulder. “Listen.”

They crouched in the dark of the alcove, pressed to the wall for cover, and, sure enough, they heard voices and the rhythmic tread of boots.

Asher pushed Ren behind him and he, Rowan and Ollie readied their weapons. The moment was long and tense, but then the soldiers walked into view. They wore helmets and the same mismatched body armor Ren was familiar with from his time in the citadel. Stunners and prods in their hands, they swept their lights across the floor and, by some miracle, they missed the group on the first pass.

One didn’t miss them on the second.

The light shone right into Ren’s eyes, and he flinched, raising his hand to shield them. The soldier raised his weapon, but didn’t shout, as Ren expected. He didn’t move, not even in the face of Ollie standing to loom above him, or Asher moving into his offensive crouch; either action would have had Ren running.

The soldier didn’t run. Instead, he raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Then he turned and yelled. “Hey,” he shouted, the sound ringing out through the empty hallways. “I think I saw someone run into the cross section over there.” He pointed toward an unoccupied stretch of the drift.

In a flurry of movement, the sounds of boots and yells filled the small space. Asher stiffened, pressing closer to Ren’s side, and they both held their breath, though for different reasons. The sounds and soldiers retreated as the group marched away, chasing phantoms.

Ren didn’t register any of the commotion, because he knew that voice. He had heard it all his life growing up in his small village. He had thought the last echo of it would forever haunt him—a cry of pain followed by bleak silence. But that was no longer true. The joy of it pinged around inside of him.

Ren stood. Asher caught his sleeve, but Ren ignored him and his furious whispers of “Get down, Ren. Stars, what are you doing?”

“Don’t come any closer,” the soldier said, raising his stunner and pointing it right at Ren. He sounded fearful. He shouldn’t have been. Ren wasn’t going to hurt him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Ren walked closer, confident and certain. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

The stunner charged, humming to life; the spark glowed in the core of the weapon.

“I’m serious.” The soldier’s voice came out choked. “You don’t understand.”

“Ren! Get out of the way!” Rowan’s harsh whisper added to the growing tension.

Ren felt it, gathering in the atmosphere like a storm, resting along his shoulders. He could feel Ollie’s presence at his back, and Asher’s worried gaze, but he didn’t stop. He kept walking, until the muzzle of the stunner rested against the center of his chest. He reached up, wrapped his fingers around the weapon and pushed it aside.

“You left me,” the soldier said, voice breaking on a sob.

Ren felt shattered. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you were too.”

Overcome, Ren lunged and wrapped his arms around Jakob’s shoulders and clutched him close. Jakob dropped the stunner. It thudded to the floor, harmless. He pushed off his helmet and then grabbed Ren fiercely, his hands clutching the back of Ren’s shirt. Jakob buried his head in the crook of Ren’s neck and heaved a sob.

“They bragged,” Jakob said between harsh breaths, “about how they blew the ship you were on out of the sky.”

Ren tightened his grip. “They didn’t.” He shook in Jakob’s embrace. “I thought you died, right there in front of me.”

Jakob pulled back, but stayed in the circle of Ren’s embrace. “I thought I did too, but I didn’t. When I recovered, I found out you’d gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jakob’s expression was solemn. “I was angry with you for a long time. I still am, to be honest, but you saved Sorcha, and I’m grateful for that.” He looked over Ren’s shoulder, his gaze searching. “Is she with you?”

Ren’s heart sank. “She didn’t come with me.”

Jakob’s gaze snapped back to Ren’s face. He stepped away from Ren and picked up the stunner. “What?” he asked softly.

Swallowing, Ren pressed on. “She went back to the village. She went home.”

“Why?” Jakob breathed. “Why would you let her do that? Why didn’t you make sure she was safe?” Jakob pushed hard at Ren’s shoulder. Ren took a faltering step back, right into Ollie.

“She needed to go home. To warn everyone about what was going on.”

Jakob moved closer and pushed Ren hard again. “Stars, Ren! Did you even think about what would happen when you escaped? Did you even think about the villages?”

Ren froze, and for the second time in a few minutes, his stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” he asked, filling with dread.

“They raided everywhere looking for you. Abiathar may have followed you to space, but the Baron and his other puppets looked all over Erden for the escaped prisoners, especially the powerful technopath who shorted out all the weapons in the courtyard while his friend was beaten.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t think—”

“Of course you didn’t think,” Jakob snapped. “Ren, our village is gone. Do you understand? It’s gone.”

Ren’s knees went weak, and only Ollie’s quick reflexes kept him standing.

“How?” he rasped. “When? Why?”

Jakob expression went dark and Ren could see the fatigue in his eyes, the defeat in his shoulders. “He made sure no one had a home to run to. You and I are the last of our village.”

Ren gasped and this time he did sink to his knees. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and doubled over. His mother was gone. Liam was gone. Sorcha was gone. He was going to be sick.

Asher shouldered in between them. He forced Jakob back.

“Now is not the time for this,” Asher said. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re fugitives on a captured drift, and you’re aligned with the enemy.”

“Do you think I want to be here? I had nowhere else to go. My father is dead. My village is destroyed. The only option was obey or be prodded to near death… again.”

“But we’re here now,” Rowan said, stepping in smoothly. “I’m Rowan Morgan, captain of the Star Stream. This is my brother, Asher. And my crewman, Ollie. Our mother, Councilor Morgan of the Drift Alliance, has been taken hostage by Abiathar. We’re here to save her. If you help us, I promise to get you back home, or wherever you want to be.”

Jakob’s eyebrows ticked up. “You’ll take me wherever I want to go?”

“They’re people of their word,” Ren said, from his spot on the ground. “They’ve never gone back on their promises.” Ren gave Asher a significant glance.

Jakob licked his lips and hefted his stunner. “There’s a control room on the twentieth level, right in the middle. Abiathar is there with the technopath. Despite the power failure, the internal defenses are active and ready to cut down anyone who looks like a threat. The entire populace is spread out on levels three and four. He’s threatened to vent those levels if he’s challenged. He sent us out to round up any stragglers and to track down the crew from the ship that docked. I’m assuming that’s you.”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Ren said. He closed his eyes, pulled himself together, and stood. He’d mourn later. Now, he needed to do what he could to end this.

“Twentieth level? So we need to go up,” Ollie said. “I thought we established this.”

“How are we going to get up there?”

“Have you seen any Corps members?”

“What about the other technopath?”

“What about our mother?”

The barrage of questions came quickly, and Jakob took a step back, blue eyes wide. He raised a hand and checked over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen your mother or any Corps, though I heard some of them escaped. And you won’t be able to get close to Abiathar because of the internal defenses. He’ll need to think you’re not a threat.”

“We can’t risk him venting the levels with the captives,” Ren said. “And I can’t do anything about it.”

Asher crossed his arms. He leveled Jakob with a harsh gaze. “How many of your compatriots are like you? Willing to switch sides?”

Jakob shrugged. “A few. They’re like me, only here because they don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Ash, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I have a plan.”

* * *

Ren flinched when Jakob snapped the cuffs around his wrists. Asher placed a reassuring hand on Ren’s shoulder, but the comforting touch did little to allay Ren’s fears about being captured again.

“It’s for show,” Asher said.

“It feels a little too real,” Ren replied, flexing his fingers. “I don’t like it.”

He knew he could take the electronic cuffs off. He’d done it before, but the thought didn’t keep Ren from remembering the iron shackles that had been his constant companions during his time at the citadel. Being bound made him anxious and afraid, even if it was Jakob who had secured the cuffs.

Ollie slid a helmet over his head, borrowed from one of the other soldiers. “Don’t worry, Ren. We’ll be there.”

“I know,” he said, squirming. “I trust you. I just…”

“We understand.” Rowan held her wrists out and didn’t blink when Jakob cuffed her. “But it’s merely to get us past the internal defenses. Once we’re inside the control center, the ruse drops.”

Jakob radioed a few of his buddies who were less than sold on the Baron’s ideas of glory and domination. And while they were reluctant to take up arms, they were fine with standing aside and allowing Rowan’s group to do what was needed. They even loaned their armor so Ollie and Asher would be in disguise. The three of them would march Ren and Rowan to the control room. Once there, they’d capture Abiathar, take out the other technopath, save the captives and free the drift.

Ren had his doubts.

Not that he doubted Asher, but nothing had run smoothly since he had been captured. This wouldn’t be any different.

He was right.

Walking down the hallway toward the pneumatic lift that would take them to level twenty, Ren and Rowan marched side by side, with Jakob, Asher and Ollie, weapons drawn and ready, behind them.

The first shot was a surprise for everyone.

Smoke drifted upward from the scorch mark next to Asher’s foot.

The second shot caught Jakob in the side. It glanced off his body armor, but it was enough to knock him down.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by ten guards carrying weapons, dressed in smart uniforms. Ollie assisted Jakob to his feet, and they both raised their hands in surrender.

Asher burst out laughing.

At first, Ren thought Asher had finally lost it, which he could understand. It seemed fortune was never on their side. Then Ren noticed the stylized Phoenix rising from flames on a patch on the shoulders of the guards.

“Stars almighty,” Rowan breathed.

Asher took off his helmet and wiped his eyes. “This could not be funnier.”

“Hands up! Release the hostages.”

“We’re not hostages. Really,” Ren said. He tapped into his star, and the cuffs released, clanging to the floor. He reached over and did the same to Rowan’s. “And they’re not soldiers.”

Ren found the guns trained on him and realized his mistake a little too late.

“He’s a star host. Watch him.”

“Cogs,” Rowan cursed. “Save me from duster idiots and superstitious fools. Ash, please do something about this.”

Asher chuckled before holding out a hand. “Okay. So we’ve found the Corps regiment. Good to know.” He set down his helmet and stunner, and the pulsers all shifted to point at him.

Ren’s throat clogged with anxiety. “Ash,” he said. Nadie’s warning rang in his memory.

“Relax,” Asher said, addressing both the Corps and Ren. “My name is Corporal Asher Morgan. I’m going to reach into my shirt and pull out my tags. You can scan them and my thumbprint to confirm my identity. And then you can put your weapons down.”

The Phoenix members looked to their leader, and she nodded. One pulled out a scanner and approached warily, but Asher remained still. His tags were scanned and his thumbprint read, and the guard hastily went back to join his ranks. He showed the results to his superior.

She pulled off her own helmet. Her black hair was unkempt; she had dark circles under her eyes. Eyebrow arched, she surveyed the screen and then swept her gaze over their ragtag group.

“Corporal,” she said. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Daly, acting officer of this Corps regiment. Welcome to Mykonos Drift.”

“Yeah, thanks. Where’s your CO?”

“Dead. At the hands of the technopath. She vented the Corps barracks and killed everyone inside. We few are what’s left of the regiment.”

Daly’s gaze flickered to Ren. The weapons remained raised in his direction. He kept still and kept his hands up. The indignation he felt about being lumped in with the girl burned, but he wasn’t about to act on it.

Asher noticed. “You can lower your weapons. We’re all on the same team.”

“If it’s all the same to you, we feel more comfortable if you had your technopath under control.”

“Now look here,” Jakob started, but Ollie slapped a hand over his mouth. Jakob kept talking, though muffled and unintelligible. Ren shook his head, eyes wide, and Jakob ceased, though his brow remained furrowed.

“Ren is not a threat,” Rowan said. “He’s part of my crew and he’s helping us take back this drift. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a plan to enact.”

“A plan?” Daly asked.

“Yeah, and it’s a good one,” Ollie added with a large smile.

Ren could see the indecision in her eyes. She didn’t know if she was going to let them go on their way or if she was going to take them into custody. She was probably wondering how the hell they’d got on the drift to begin with. And there was little doubt she perceived Ren as a threat.

Daly crossed her arms. “Our reconnaissance shows any direct attack on the control center would have disastrous consequences for the captives.”

“Which is why we aren’t mounting a direct assault,” Asher replied, evenly.

She nodded, her shrewd gaze drifting over them, taking in the disguises and the discarded cuffs.

“I want in.”

“Only if I lead,” Asher shot back.

“I outrank you. I’m in control of this regiment.”

“Bang-up job you’re doing,” Jakob said. Ollie smirked.

Daly ignored them. She lifted her chin. “I am the commanding officer. I order you to stand down, Corporal.”

“Right.” Asher looked to Ren and gave a nod. “Ren.”

Ren had no idea what Asher expected him to do, but he was fairly certain it was a power play. Ren raised his hands and focused on the weapon nearest him. He tapped into his star and pushed it out; the power infused his middle, spread down his arms to his fingers. He kept his eyes open, knowing they glowed blue, and reached out toward the pulser. The blueprint of the weapon flashed through Ren’s mind and he easily disassembled it. The weapon fell apart, pinging on the floor, and with a blink, Ren snapped back into his body.

He smiled at the mess on the deck with satisfaction.

“Ren, what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object?” Asher asked.

All vestiges of Ren’s star retreated and his smile grew. “That’s a paradox, Corporal.”

Daly’s expression was only mildly impressed, but her regiment eyed Ren with unfettered suspicion and fear. And for the first time, Ren didn’t mind.

“Fine,” Daly gritted out. “You take the lead, since you seem to be able to keep the technopath under control.”

Ren’s smile dimmed.

“Great,” Asher said. He moved through the group and clapped Ren on the shoulder as he passed. “Let’s get started then. Ollie and Jakob, back to original positions. Ren and Rowan, electronic shackles on. Daly, go with your regiment to levels three and four and wait for the signal.”

“What’s going to be the signal?” a low-level Corpsman asked, hand tentatively raised.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

Jakob twisted his lips. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

Ren silently agreed.

* * *

They made it to the pneumatic lift without incident. However, it wasn’t running. When Ren had cut everything but the emergency power, it meant power to the lifts as well. The other technopath hadn’t undone the tangle. Ren didn’t take this as a compliment to his skills, but a warning that whatever else she was doing was deemed more important. They’d been on the drift for hours now. She’d had the drift in her power for days. What was she waiting for?

“Cogs,” Rowan cursed. “Now what?”

“The stairs then,” Jakob said.

They opened the door and found a ladder that went straight up. Rowan and Ren looked at their bound hands.

“The universe is against us,” Ren said on a sigh.

Asher looked into the shaft and craned his neck. “Well, up we go.”

“No. This is ridiculous,” Jakob said. “Ren, power the lift.”

Ren scratched his chin. “Uh, about that… I can’t.”

“Of course you can. I just watched you disassemble a weapon you weren’t even touching. You can power this.”

“No, he can’t,” Asher cut in. “It will be fine.”

“Is this a bad time to remind everyone I’m afraid of heights?” Ollie said.

Rowan sighed and cast Ren a look.

“Fine. Everyone into the lift.”

They piled in and Ren quickly allowed his star into the controls. The lift shot upward and everyone grabbed onto the sides. Ollie gasped in surprise.

Ren felt the other technopath, but he kept himself as separate as possible. She shoved him, and his stomach churned. He clenched his jaw and counted the levels in his head. When they reached the twentieth level, he stopped the lift and immediately pulled out. The lift stopped with a jolt. When the doors opened, they stumbled out.

“Ren,” Asher said softly, “you all right? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” He mustered a smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

Back in their positions, they began the walk to the control center. The emergency lights gave an eerie glow to the march, and Ren’s anxiety spiked. His cuffs loosened and tightened on his wrists with every stuttered breath he took.

Helmets on, Asher, Ollie and Jakob all looked the part of the Baron’s soldiers, even if Jakob walked slightly bent due to the shot to his side. Rowan and Ren acted the submissive captives. To everyone’s surprise, it worked. The defenses did not fire.

At the doors, Jakob stepped forward. He pressed the comm button.

“Captives from the ship, General.”

There was no answer, but the double doors slowly creaked open. Jakob stepped back, his hands tight around his weapon.

“You ready?” Asher whispered.

Ren took a deep breath. He wasn’t. His hands shook. Sweat broke out along his brow. This was a bad idea, facing the man who had captured him, who bent Ren to his will. “Yes.”

The doors opened to reveal the control center. The technopath stood there, her eyes glowing, her hands buried in the circuit boards. Her long dark hair wisped into her pale face. Short and thin, she wore a tattered dress. She kept her bare feet planted against the deck, but her body swayed. She looked unnatural, the way Ren imagined ghosts did: her expression was slack, eyes open and unblinking as her irises burned.

Ren now knew how he appeared to Asher and the others when he was lost in the machines.

“It’s her,” Ren heard Asher whisper. “The girl from the cell. I know her name.”

Ren didn’t have time to reply, for Abiathar stood in the middle of the room, dressed in black. In the glow of the emergency lights, he appeared intimidating and otherworldly.

Ren swallowed. This was a bad idea.

Abaithar’s cold, stern gaze settled on the group. “I knew you would not be able to elude me forever,” he said, addressing Ren. “You will be of use to me as we lay the foundation of our great society.”

“You’re insane,” Rowan said.

Asher raised his weapon. “And you’re under arrest.”

Abiathar smirked, his lips a cruel twist. His stoic mask didn’t flicker. It was as if he wasn’t surprised at all.

“You’d risk the demise of the thousands of captives on this drift?” He tsked. “Your drifter arrogance is astounding.”

“It’s not as astounding as your duster idiocy,” Ren said. “Do you think we would have shown up here without a plan? Seriously?”

Abiathar gave them a considering look. He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “Don’t shoot the one like you,” he commanded the girl. “Kill the others.”

The internal defenses whirred to life. Pulsers mounted in the ceiling swiveled to attention and fixed their aim on the group.

Oh, stars.

“Get down!”

Asher grabbed the front of Ren’s shirt and yanked him to the floor behind an overturned table. The others hit the ground, ducking behind overturned furniture. Ollie dove to the doorframe and rolled out of the control center, his bulk too easy a target. Loud and chaotic, the sound of the discharges echoed in the small space. Ren heard Rowan hiss in pain. He heard Jakob curse.

“We’re pinned,” Jakob yelled. “I can’t get a shot.”

“You don’t need one,” Asher shouted back.

Amid the pings and sizzle-pops, Asher’s voice rang out, strong and clear.

“Millicent,” Asher called to the girl. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

Ren watched from under a chair as a flicker of confusion shot across Abiathar’s features. Ren’s spirit soared. Abiathar didn’t understand. He didn’t know about the power of paradox.

Ren felt giddy when the light in the girl’s eyes dimmed, and her mouth moved.

“Millicent, a man tells you everything he says is a lie. Is that the truth or a lie?” Asher yelled.

She blinked. She stopped swaying. Her hands slowly unclenched; the white-knuckle grip went slack. The internal defenses kept firing, but the shots became sporadic and unfocused. The influence of her star slipped, as did Abiathar’s control.

“No,” Abiathar barked. “Vent levels three and four. Call the soldiers back to the command center. Now!”

“Millicent, can a man drown in the fountain of eternal youth?”

She gasped. She let go of the circuits, and the blue light faded from her eyes.

“Ren, now!”

Ren jumped to his feet and leapt toward the console. He dove in with abandon.

Unfettered within the drift, Ren could see everything. He spread out from the epicenter of the control tower in a blast and raced out along the systems. He went in every direction, splintering around comms, dancing along the sensors and breezing through life support. With a heave, Ren turned everything on.

The doors to levels three and four unlocked. Power sparked into the media boards, the music, the lights, the intercoms. Ren fragmented further, looked out of the drift’s sensors and stopped short.

Phoenix Corps ships floated on the edge of sensor range, surrounding the drift, but not moving. Waiting for a signal perhaps? Ren could give them one. Ren could do anything. He was massive, spread out as he was, and he was omnipotent. He could vent the whole drift. He could destroy all the ships. He could bend the technology to his will.

But he didn’t want to.

He didn’t need to.

Ren retreated and began the process of shrinking into his body. Then something caught his eye. It was a message, blinking and small, and Ren drifted toward it. He poked it and the missive unfurled in colors.

Ren had never laid eyes on the Baron of his fief in Erden, but somehow he instantly recognized that he was the author of the message.

“I will arrive in a few hours. Be ready.”

The message was time-stamped a couple of hours before.

The Baron was nearby. He was nearby.

This was what Millicent was waiting for. She was holding Mykonos for him. This was to be his new citadel.

Immediately, Ren went back into the sensors and scanned the area around the drift. There! A ship, smaller than Star Stream, far enough out to almost be out of the drift’s range. It was turning around and speeding away.

Ren whipped back into his body. He opened his eyes and gasped.

Millicent clung to Ollie and cried into his chest. Rowan sported a burn on her arm. Jakob held his side and stood slightly bent. Abiathar lay on the floor, gagged. Ren was grateful to whomever had the foresight to keep Abiathar’s mouth shut.

“Ash,” Ren said, “he’s here. The Baron was here. The Phoenix Corps has surrounded Mykonos but he’s getting away.”

Asher stumbled over a chair and lurched to the comm control. “What? Tell me again.”

“We don’t have time,” Ren said, flipping switches and grabbing a radio. He shoved it into Asher’s hand. “Use your call sign and your last name. Tell Daly or anyone who will listen to stop that ship!”

“Daly, this is Morgan. Do you come in? Message. Over.”

There was a beat of silence and then the comm in his hand crackled to life.

“Morgan. This is Daly. Send message. Over.”

“Daly. This is Morgan. One suspect in custody. Another suspect in ship leaving perimeter of Mykonos. Corps ships at standby and able to intercept. Relay message. Over.”

“Morgan. This is Daly. Message relayed to General VanMeerten. Second suspect not priority. Over.”

Ren shivered at the expression of anger on Asher’s face. “Daly. This is Morgan,” he gritted into the comm. “Permission to pursue second suspect with my crew. Over.”

“Morgan. Daly. Wait for Bravo squad at your position to turn over prime suspect. Do not leave area. Do not pursue. Orders firm. Over.”

“But…” Asher sputtered into the comm, all military formality disappearing. “But he’s the one behind everything. Abiathar is his puppet. Go after the ship, or at least let us go.” He heaved a breath. “Over,” he added as an afterthought.

“Morgan. Daly. Stand down. Orders firm. Wait for Bravo squad. Out.”

Ren startled when Asher threw the receiver across the room. It bounced on the wall, and fell to the ground in a heap of wires and metal. Shoulders tense, Asher bent over the console.

Ren hesitantly touched Asher’s arm.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“No! You don’t understand! This is what they do!” He gestured wildly. “They tell you backup is coming and to hold your position, and it never comes. It never comes, and they leave you to bleed out in the mud of some dirt-hole planet because you were stupid enough to believe them.”

Asher’s chest heaved, and Ren could see tears of exhaustion and pain shimmer in the corners of Asher’s eyes. Asher place a splayed hand on the center of his chest and rubbed, his breaths coming quick and panicked, and Ren moved close, offering comfort with proximity.

“Ash,” Ren said softly. “I promise it’s going to be okay.”

And then Ren wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders. Asher’s body slumped into the embrace and he buried his head in Ren’s neck, clenching his hands in the back of Ren’s shirt. He grabbed on as if his life depended on it, and inhaled deep, steadying breaths, as if he could take Ren in through his lungs and keep him there.

Ren remembered calling Asher out for his apathy in the dungeon and after all their time together, Ren finally understood why Asher had hunkered in his cell for a year instead of attempting an escape. The truth of his capture bled out in trembling muscles and shaky gasps.

Ren grasped tighter. “It’s all right. You’ve got a crew, and your crew needs you. We need you, Ash. More than we need another adventure.”

Asher took a shuddering breath in Ren’s arms. He composed himself and straightened, discreetly wiping at his eyes.

Ren looked to his friends. Jakob leaned on Rowan, and Millicent clutched Ollie’s hand in both of her own.

“Right,” Asher said softly. “My crew.”

Rowan’s mouth twitched into a smile. “My crew,” she countered.

Asher rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Our crew.”

“Fine,” Rowan said, exhaling a put-upon sigh. “Our crew.”

Ollie grinned. “We’ll need a bigger ship.”

“Nah,” Ren said, wiggling his fingers. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Asher’s palm was warm when he wrapped it around Ren’s, capturing his fingers. “Not like that.” He gave Ren’s hand a squeeze. “It’s almost over,” Asher said with a small smile.

Ren nodded in return, but he knew it was far from over. He looked to Abiathar and then down at his own hands. He felt the power hum within him, the invisible tether that bound him to the drift, to Asher, to the Star Stream.

They may have captured Abiathar, but their adventure had only begun.

15

Sitting in a chair, hands in his lap, Ren felt as though he was in the village schoolhouse on Erden. Except it wasn’t the teacher staring him down from across a desk, but General VanMeerten. She was an older woman with coarse hair pulled back in a severe bun and an impressive scar that ran from her earlobe to the point of her chin. Dressed in an immaculate uniform studded with stars and medals, she put Asher to shame.

Ren bounced his knee, nervous and shaky, adrenaline still slowly leaving his system. Asher placed his hand on it. Asher’s palm was warm through the thin fabric of Ren’s trousers and his touch bled off some of Ren’s anxiety. The action didn’t go unnoticed by VanMeerten; her gaze zeroed in on Asher’s hand, but she didn’t comment.

She hadn’t spoken since the group shuffled into the Phoenix Corps training room, escorted by Bravo squad, and took seats among the rows of hard-backed chairs. Ollie sprawled. Lucas and Penelope, who had been collected from the ship, held hands. Jakob listed to the side, eyes heavy, wearing his exhaustion like a second skin. Rowan crossed her arms and glared.

Asher sat beside Ren, hiding his fear better than Ren was. He squeezed Ren’s knee and Ren took comfort in the gesture. When Asher pulled away, Ren felt the loss keenly.

Minutes passed, and Ren didn’t know what VanMeerten waited for. They were all there, except that Abiathar had been whisked away and Millicent had been bound and escorted away as well, despite Ren’s protests and his assertions of her innocence.

The silence was oppressive. Ren was about to crack, say something, squirm, break the tension, when the back door opened and Daly appeared. She strode down the center aisle and stopped in front of VanMeerten’s desk. They engaged in a fierce whispered conversation, during which Daly pointedly looked at Ren.

Ren gulped.

Daly left. She closed the door.

VanMeerten pinned Ren with a stare, and he wondered if he was going to end back up in chains. He was trapped. His star prickled in the middle of his chest.

VanMeerten leaned forward, palms spread on the desk.

“You want to tell me what you are.”

“Is that a question?” Ren asked, voice cracking.

“He’s not answering anything,” Rowan snapped. “Not until you tell us what we’re doing here. We’ve done nothing wrong, yet we’ve been treated like criminals since the Corps came out of hiding to address what was going on here.”

VanMeerten’s face clouded.

“And you are?”

“Captain Rowan Morgan, daughter of Councilor Morgan, the woman who determines your salary.”

“Spoiled drifter trash, then.”

Asher bristled. Ren laid a hand on Asher’s forearm.

“And who are you?” Rowan countered. She tugged on her braid.

“General VanMeerten of the Phoenix Corps. Dirt-born, if that’s what you’re asking. Raised with enough common sense not to engage a hostile when hostages’ lives are at risk.”

“We saved those people,” Asher said, back stiff. “Which is more than I can say for the Corps.”

“Corporal Morgan, I assume. Daly told me about you. How you were insubordinate to her rank. How you led this group of ragtag would-be soldiers despite her orders. Weren’t you captured on a planet somewhere?”

Asher pressed his lips into a thin line, and Ren tightened his grip on Asher’s arm.

“And you,” VanMeerten looked hard at Ren, “are going to answer my question. Or do I need to hand you over to the interrogators?”

“You leave him alone,” Asher said, jumping to his feet.

Rowan was half a second behind him, on her feet, wagging her finger and yelling.

Yet it was Jakob, slowly standing, whose voice cut through the noise. “Don’t touch him,” he said, voice low and deadly. “If you so much as think of laying a hand on him, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” VanMeerten said, striding around the desk. “There is nothing you can threaten me with, boy, that would scare me. None of you.” Her gaze swept over the group. “Now, this posturing leads me to believe what Daly said is correct.”

Ren stiffened, his muscles tensing. Daly had seen him disassemble the weapon.

“And if that’s the case, then—”

The door at the back of the room flung open and banged against the wall. Ren jumped and almost fell out of his chair. VanMeerten didn’t flinch.

A woman marched in. Her blond hair wisped about her head, and her clothes were disheveled, but Ren recognized those green eyes. Despite her haggard appearance, Councilor Morgan commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

“Mom!” Asher said.

The Councilor ignored her son and stopped right in front of VanMeerten.

“What is the meaning of this?” she barked. “Why are you holding my children? What charges could you possibly have against them?”

“Councilor Morgan,” VanMeerten greeted. “It’s good to see you.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry I can’t say the same.”

“Your children are being questioned in reference to the events that transpired here. They seemed to be in the thick of things.”

“What happened here was the result of an insane duster. He took over the drift with a technopath and intended to vent the levels containing all the captives, including myself. My son and his friend tried to warn me,” she smiled warmly at Asher. “I made the mistake of not believing them. I do now.”

“The girl… the technopath was controlled against her will,” Ren blurted. Everyone turned to stare at him, including Asher, who quickly shook his head. Ren stood on shaky legs. “Abiathar, the man who took over, can control people with his voice. That’s how he got her to do everything. It wasn’t her fault.”

VanMeerten arched an eyebrow. “You know this how?”

“Because we saw it,” Rowan interrupted. “We saw him do it, but we were able to break the connection. When the girl came out of it, it was obvious she had no idea where she was or what she had done.”

“That poor girl.” Councilor Morgan placed a hand over her heart. “Is she in custody? If so, you must release her immediately.”

“Not a chance, Morgan. Or did you miss the part where she vented the Corps barracks? She’s dangerous. And so is he.”

Ren stepped back under the force of VanMeerten’s glare.

Councilor Morgan scoffed. “Oh, Regina, you certainly have a skewed perception if you think that little Erden teenager is a threat. He doesn’t look strong enough to withstand a breeze from an air recycler.”

Ren tried not to take offense.

“Now,” she continued, “I will gladly provide the Corps with a statement in exchange for the release of my children and their crew. I lived through this ordeal and can relay the obvious heroism of this group better than they can themselves.”

VanMeerten narrowed her eyes. “I’m not done with them.”

“Yes, you are, for now. If you need further statements, I suggest you contact my office and we’ll arrange something.” Councilor Morgan didn’t give VanMeerten a chance to respond. She clapped her hands. “Now, everyone, come along. I have to reconnect with my children, and you all look as though you could use some rest and medical care.” She turned on her heel, and Rowan and Asher immediately followed her down the aisle like overgrown ducklings.

Ren exchanged a confused glance with Jakob, but shrugged and gestured for him to follow. Ollie, Lucas and Penelope filed out. Ren was the last to join them.

He made it two steps before VanMeerten stopped him with a claw-like grip on his shoulder. Her fingers dug in as she moved close to Ren’s back and leaned down to speak into his ear.

“I know what you are,” she said.

Ren shivered, goosebumps blossoming down his arms.

“The Corps will be watching you. I will be watching you. Don’t think for a moment I’m going to allow your kind to wreak havoc like your predecessors.”

“I’m not like them.”

“No? I have a captain of a disabled ship that says otherwise.”

Ren’s stomach churned.

“He’s wrong. I have something my ancestors didn’t.”

“What’s that?”

Ren straightened and looked over his shoulder. “An anchor to humanity.”

She looked grim. “We’ll see. I’m sure we’ll speak again. Soon.”

Shrugging off her grasp, Ren walked away quickly, hoping he appeared calmer than he felt. He burst out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Leaning against it, he took a few shuddering breaths. The Corps knew what he was. They were going to be watching him. He had a feeling he’d just gone from the frying pan into the fire.

* * *

Councilor Morgan wielded substantial power on the drift. Ren saw that not only in her confrontation with VanMeerten, but also in the suite of hotel rooms she gave the crew. His room was bigger than anything he’d experienced.

Ren had never been on a bed so comfy. He sprawled out like a starfish and sank into the blankets and the pillows. The bed was like a cloud. After a warm shower, in which Ren let the water massage the tension out of his shoulders, he was content to spend the rest of the day in bed. Since Asher was visiting his mother, and the rest of the crew were ensconced in their own rooms, Ren thought a nap was in order. On the edge of sleep, Ren almost missed the knock on his door.

He sat up, suddenly wired, on alert, heart thumping. It amazed him how he could go from half-asleep to ready to run in the span of a breath. He missed not being afraid all the time.

Ren crossed the room, peeped through the hole in the door and let out a sigh of relief.

He opened the door.

“Jakob,” he said, “how are you doing?”

Jakob stepped inside and looked around. “Can you believe these rooms?” he asked. His arm was in a sling, and Ren spied bandages under his shirt. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I never want to leave.”

“Have you tried the bed yet?”

Jakob’s eyes widened. “Is it amazing?”

“It’s like a giant cotton ball.”

“I can’t wait. I am going to sleep for days.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

They crossed the room and sat on the couch. Ren offered Jakob a glass of water from the tray that a staff person had brought. Ren had eaten all the food already.

“Thanks.”

“Are you all right?”

Jakob nodded. “Bruised ribs, a slight burn and exhaustion. I’ll be fine. You?”

“I’m good.”

“Good,” Jakob said. “So, I thought we should talk.” Jakob took a sip from the glass.

Ren swallowed. “Okay.”

“Look, I know I was a jerk to you when we were younger. I know if we had stayed in the village we probably wouldn’t have interacted outside my family asking your family to plow our fields or something.”

Ren rolled his eyes.

Jakob lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, then continued.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up.

“For what? You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I left you. I let Sorcha go back to the village.”

“I have it on good authority you thought I was dead. And you didn’t know Baron Vos was going to do what he did.”

“I should’ve known.”

Jakob shook his head. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Don’t do that to yourself, okay? You’re not clairvoyant, unless there are more things you can do than you’ve let on.”

Ren shook his head.

“Okay, then.” Jakob sat his glass on the end table. “I loved her. I always had. And whatever happened to her, she wouldn’t want me to be mad at you. It might be difficult, but I can let go of the anger I felt toward you, so you need to do the same.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Ren sighed. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. You have to. Especially if I’m going to be part of Rowan’s crew. I can’t be your friend if you’re going to be a morose cog all the time.”

Looking up, Ren opened his mouth and closed it. “What?”

“You look like a fish.”

“I… what?”

“You heard me. I talked with Rowan while we were being bandaged. She said I had a spot if I wanted it. And since you and I are the last of our village, I’m not going to let you gallivant across the cluster without me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, space can be really boring. And really dangerous.”

Jakob shrugged. “I think I’ve earned a little boring. And danger? Don’t make me laugh.”

Ren huffed in amusement. “That’s true.”

“So we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Ren said with a grin. “We’re good.”

“Good,” Jakob said, standing. “Because you need me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you were the one running toward the floaters while everyone else was running away.”

Ren laughed. “‘Night, Jakob.”

“‘Night,” he replied as he shut the door.

* * *

Exhausted as Ren was, he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned amid the lush pillows, but after a few hours, gave up. He rolled out of the bed and pulled on fresh clothes, which were also courtesy of Councilor Morgan.

For once, the clothes fit. The trousers were of a fine, dark fabric, and the shirt was a vibrant blue. Ren felt overdressed for a quick walk, but he needed to escape the lonely confines of his room, if only for a few moments.

The hallway was softly lit, drift time being the wee hours of the morning, and Ren gently shut the door behind him. There was a nondescript door across from his, with a number in the center, and others on either side. Ren wasn’t sure who had what room, and though he knew, despite the hour, he’d be welcome in Asher’s or Jakob’s or even Rowan’s, Ren didn’t knock.

Hands in his pockets, Ren wandered down the hall, so lost in his head he didn’t realize he’d stopped in front of one of the other doors until he felt a flicker of power that wasn’t his own. The sensation was familiar, an echo of what Ren had felt before, but this time it didn’t try to hurt him.

Millicent.

She’d been released.

Without hesitation, Ren knocked on the door.

He waited long enough to consider that maybe she wasn’t awake and the spark he’d felt was a figment of his imagination, but as Ren turned to walk away, the locks disengaged. The door inched inward, revealing a sliver of light and a curtain of dark hair.

The first time Ren had seen her, she had been lost in the drift, her irises blazing blue. Now, she looked up, strands of hair falling down her forehead and alongside her nose, and Ren noted that her eyes were hazel. She had a round face and delicate features, and lines of exhaustion near the corners of her mouth and dark circles under her eyes. She wore a long formless dress that brushed the tops of her bare feet, and she appeared anything but frightening.

“You,” she said softly, not accusingly, but not as a question either. A statement.

Ren nodded. “You,” he replied.

She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin. When Ren had seen her last, she had been led away by Bravo squad with her hands in cuffs and her head down. She’d looked so small and scared, and she did still. She stood in the small crack she allowed between the doorframe and the door’s edge, hands gripping the frame so hard her knuckles turned white. But she met his gaze and didn’t flinch.

Ren admired that.

“My name is Ren. I wanted to check that you were okay,” he said, gently.

She pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m Millicent, which I think you already know. Do you want to come in?” Her gaze flickered down the hallway. “And talk privately?”

Ren swallowed. She’d hurt him, but it was while under Abiathar’s control. He didn’t think she was dangerous now, and he’d vouched for her innocence, but he didn’t know. On the other hand, she might have some answers, and Ren had discovered those were precious in this world.

“Sure.”

She opened the door and Ren stepped into the room. It was the same as his, lavish and impractical. She settled on the couch in the sitting area, and Ren opted to sit in the armchair across from her, wary of sharing the same space.

“I’m fine,” she said without preamble. “I’m confused and upset over what I’ve apparently done, but I’m fine.”

Ren thought she said this for her own benefit, to convince herself that it was true.

“I’m glad.” Ren clasped his hands and placed his elbows on his knees. “What do you remember?”

She shrugged and chewed her bottom lip. “Not much. I remember my home and being in the cell in the citadel and traveling in a few ships and then here.”

Millicent’s voice was soothing, with a lilt Ren couldn’t place. It put Ren at ease, and he relaxed in the chair, fairly assured he was safe. Especially since it seemed they shared similar journeys, though hers was experienced mostly under Abiathar’s influence.

“How long have you been gone?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “A while, I guess.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

Ren stared at the intricate carpet on the floor. “No, I mean.” He wiggled his fingers, as Asher and Rowan had both done before to him.

“Oh! You mean my star gift? It’s like it’s always been.”

“It’s under control?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Ren snapped his head up. Millicent studied him, her eyebrows drawn down in confusion.

“It’s not erratic? You don’t get…” Ren searched for a word. “Lost?”

“Sometimes, when I was younger, but not anymore. You still do?”

Ren sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his brow. “I only discovered I am a technopath not long ago. I’m still learning.”

She nodded. “You’re powerful, though. More than I am. It’s probably easier for me since I don’t have much power and I’ve been practicing all my life.”

Ren recognized that Millicent was attempting to be comforting, but it only served to make him feel pathetic and naive.

“Maybe we can talk more about it when it’s not so late?”

“I’d like that,” she said softly, the first hint of a smile curling her lips. “If they allow me.”

Ren didn’t have to guess who she was referring to. The Phoenix Corps. “You’ve been released.”

“Only because of you and your friend. The handsome one with the unanswerable questions.” She blushed at that, and Ren bit his tongue. “But I’m certain I won’t be able to just go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Ren offered.

“Don’t be. I did horrible things.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“But you were under his control.”

“I know.” She looked off in the distance and shivered. She hugged her arms across her body, and Ren wasn’t going to push. He could see it wasn’t the time. There would be more questions and answers later, but Millicent was still recovering. She needed a friend, not an interrogator.

And he could only imagine what it had all been like for her. He was lucky. He’d escaped. He had someone who anchored him and friends who protected him. She was alone, and Ren couldn’t begin to imagine how different his own journey would have been if not for Asher.

“I should let you rest,” Ren said, standing.

Millicent blinked and visibly shook off whatever thoughts she had been tangled in. She looked at Ren, her eyes wide. “We’re rare, you know. I’m glad to know you exist.”

This was probably the weirdest, yet nicest, thing anyone had said to Ren all day, but he understood.

“I’m glad you exist too.” They didn’t hug or shake hands or touch at all. Millicent stayed on the couch, and Ren didn’t approach her. He didn’t know how their stars would react, and he didn’t want to find out right then. He gave her an awkward wave and walked to the door.

“I hope to see you later, Ren.”

“You will,” he said.

Ren still wasn’t sleepy when he left her room and wandered out of the hotel. The drift was wide awake, despite the hour and the events of the past few days. Maybe it helped the populace gain a sense of normalcy to resume their regular activities as if nothing had happened. Ren envied them.

He’d love some normal, especially if it meant he didn’t startle at every noise, or dread capture because someone knocked on his door.

Near the entrance of the hotel was one of the big observation windows tucked into a rounded alcove. He sat on the bench and gazed out.

Mesmerized by the intricate paths of the ships coming and going and the twinkle of the stars as their backdrop, Ren was amazed by the vast, unending blackness that stretched out before him, not only by the sheer enormity of it, but also by his place in it. His life was forever changed, drastically and dramatically, since he had run after Liam in the woods on Erden.

He had yearned so fiercely to be among the stars only a few short months ago, but now they offered no warmth, no companionship. They were only stars, distant and cold. Even the powerful one buried within him was nothing like he’d imagined. Space was not his home. Mykonos was not his home.

He wanted to go home.

Yet, he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know where to go from here.

At least he had friends. He also had a power he could only barely control and didn’t understand most of the time. He had experienced much. He had lost more.

He had gained Asher.

Asher.

“Ren?”

Ren sucked in a quick breath and looked up, his fear easing when he saw who it was.

“Ash.” As if summoned, Asher stood behind the bench, decked out in a crisp Phoenix Corps uniform. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Actually, just getting in. I’ve been speaking with Mother and then with Corps higher-ups.”

“You must be exhausted.”

Asher shrugged. “May I join you?”

Ren scooted over on the bench and made room. He patted the space next to him, and Asher settled in.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Asher asked. He threaded his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I know it sounds silly, but I think the bed was too soft. Not a problem I ever thought I would have.”

Asher chuckled. “Drifter problems.”

Smiling, Ren knocked into Asher’s side. “You would know.” Asher rolled his eyes. They lapsed into a companionable silence in which Ren eyed Asher. In the flashing lights of the drift, Asher was as beautiful as ever. Ren’s heart skipped a beat.

“How were the meetings?” Ren asked.

Asher tore his gaze from the window and looked at Ren. “Abiathar is on his way to the prison drift on the edge of Perilous Space. They released Millicent into Rowan’s care.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? She’ll be relieved to hear that.”

“I’m sure,” Asher said with a nod. “You’ve talked to her?”

“She couldn’t sleep either. Not that I can blame her. She has a lot to work through.”

“She does. Pen should be able to assist with that. She always knows the right thing to say, and if not, she’ll cook something.” Asher paused and pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Of course,” he started, sounding reluctant, “her release is with the caveat that you would also be on board to help her learn control and that you would both participate in mandatory Corps check-ins.”

“What?” Ren said, surprise making his voice high-pitched. He stopped, took a calming breath and started again. “I mean, what?”

“It was one of the conditions to keep you out of chains. I thought it was a fair compromise to keep you free,” Asher said, obviously annoyed. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Ren wilted. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. Thank you,” he said. “For doing what you could.”

Asher reached over and touched Ren’s hand, features softening. “There’s more, Ren.”

Tensing, Ren gripped his knees. “More?”

“When I enlisted at sixteen, I promised five years. I’ve given four. Granted, one year of that was in a cell, but they’re counting it.”

“You have a year left,” Ren said slowly. He paused and tracked a merchant ship leaving orbit, the metal gleaming in the beacon lights of the drift. His thoughts were a blur. “So what Nadie said is true. You died in the ashes, rose out of them and you’ve returned to ashes. You’re back in the Corps.”

“Yeah,” Asher said, looking down. He wrapped his fingers around Ren’s hand.

Ren’s throat went tight. He stared at their joined hands. “What’s your assignment? Some far-off place, I guess.”

“No, I’m not that lucky.” Asher shook his head.

Ren crinkled his brow. “What could possibly be worse?”

“You.”

“What?”

“They’ve assigned me as your handler.”

“Cog!” Ren laughed. The weight that had settled on his chest lifted. He was suddenly lighter, as if he could float among the stars. “Are you serious?”

“As a life support malfunction. I’m your handler. I’m part of the deal to keep you and Millicent out of a Corps facility. I’m your protector now.”

“And you’re okay with it? You’re fine with following me around and making sure I don’t blow stuff up?”

Asher smiled, wide and bright. “I figured I already had experience with the job. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Laughing, Ren flung himself toward Asher. He wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders, accidentally bumped his nose into Asher’s throat, and all but ended up sprawled in Asher’s lap, but it was the best hug. Asher clutched Ren close and chuckled right into Ren’s ear, making him shiver.

“To be honest, I thought you might be a little annoyed. Glad to see I was wrong.”

Ren pulled away slightly and, seeing the happiness on Asher’s face and knowing it was mirrored on his own, he took a chance. He kissed Asher on the mouth, fleetingly but joyously. Asher returned the kiss, smiling against Ren’s lips.

“I’m happy,” Ren said, disengaging from their awkward sprawl. “I’m so happy I think I can handle being your assignment as long as we can still be whatever we are.”

“Whatever we are? Is that some kind of duster term I’m not aware of?”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Stars, you’re a cog.”

“Yes,” Asher said with a serious nod then he broke into a shy grin. “But I’m your cog.”

“So that’s what we’re calling it?”

Asher shook his head, laughing softly. “Let’s not assign a label. We’ve enough of those, don’t you think?”

Duster. Dreamer. Captive. Slave. Fugitive. Technopath. Liability. Star Host.

Asher was right. Ren was tired of labels. He didn’t need another.

“Okay,” Ren said, squeezing Asher’s hand. “I agree.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Ren echoed. “For the record, I’m still happy you’re not being shipped off to a remote location with bugs, radiation and non-recycled air.”

“Me too, because that sounds positively awful.”

They laughed, and Ren was light-headed with joy or exhaustion. He couldn’t tell the difference, and he didn’t care to.

Asher patted Ren’s knee with his free hand, and Ren’s star pulsed, shooting off a spark.

“I’m happy, too,” Asher said, staring at their joined hands. He smirked. “You idiot duster.”

“Arrogant drifter,” Ren replied.

Asher laughed, loud and vibrant, head thrown back, eyes scrunched shut.

Ren knew there were things he still had to face. He had to find his mother and stepfather and Liam. He would have to return to Erden. He needed to see what was left of his village. He needed to find out what had happened to Sorcha. He needed to learn how to control his star and ensure he wouldn’t succumb to the machines like his predecessors. He needed to talk further with Millicent about her own substantial power. “Need to” hung over him like a sword, but in this moment, Asher’s arms around him, his laugh ringing in Ren’s ears, Ren wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Hey,” Ren said. “I’m glad I was thrown into the cell next to yours. It’s been enlightening.”

“You bet your sweet star it has. When I met you, you were nothing but an ignorant duster, but now you have all the qualities of a drifter. Well, your condescension could use a little work. And you haven’t quite mastered the air of superiority you’ll need.”

Ren groaned. “Oh my stars, is this what I’m going to be stuck with?”

“Always,” Asher said with a nod. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

“I know how you keep your promises. And I guess it’ll be okay. I need someone to be a bad influence in my life.”

“It’s settled then,” Asher said, with a swat to Ren’s arm and a glint in his eye. “For my first act as your official bad influence, I’m taking you to a restaurant we must try. The word “fried” is actually in the name.”

Ren laughed, and the weight of the unknown lifted from his shoulders. “Really? I’m in.”

“Great, because Rowan turned up her nose and Penelope went faintly green.”

Chuckling, they both stood, and Ren fell in step next to Asher, listening intently to how the rest of the crew had reacted to Asher’s proposal.

Ren bumped Asher’s shoulder, and Asher retaliated by grabbing Ren’s hand and lacing their fingers. In the warmth of Asher’s friendship and affection, Ren’s star hummed, complacent, tucked away in his chest. And for the moment, he was carefree and happy amid the stars.

Book Two: Ghosts & Ashes

To the heroes of sci-fi—past, present, and future

When your bow is broken and your last arrow spent, then shoot, shoot with your whole heart.

—Zen saying

1

In all the days Ren spent dreaming about leaving his home planet and venturing to the stars, his imagination had never conjured a scenario like this.

“What do you think?” Penelope asked, holding up two shirts. “The blue or the black?” Her fingers curled over the stiff collars, and the fabric wrinkled under her grip. Her lips pulling tight over her teeth, she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“The black,” Jakob said, from his position on Ren’s bunk. He lounged on his elbows with his booted feet dangling over the edge. “It’s subdued.”

“But the blue matches Ren’s eyes,” Penelope said. Then she bit her lip, realizing her misstep. “Or… well… the black then.”

Ren’s small room on the Star Stream was crowded with the three of them in there, but he couldn’t begrudge the company of his friends. They thought they were helping.

Ren leaned against the wall, dressed in his sleep clothes with his dark hair hanging in his face. He was half-awake; his senses were fogged, and he was processing slower than usual. The rumble of the ship vibrated through the soles of his bare feet and settled in his middle, where it soothed the pinpricks of panic that were starting to well within him.

He took the shirt Penelope handed him. “Thank you.”

“Now, how about trousers?” She opened the small chest of drawers in Ren’s room and rooted about.

Jakob yawned. “Weeds, Pen, I think Ren can dress himself.”

“Yes,” she said. She pulled out a tan pair and shook them. “But we want to make sure he is at his best for this meeting.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “General VanMeerten isn’t going to care about my clothes.”

“No,” Jakob agreed. “She’s going to be more interested in the circles under your eyes and that you’re awfully pale for a duster.”

“We’ve been in space for months. Of course I’m pale.” Ren didn’t mention the nightmares, the anxiety attacks, or the call of the ship—all of which contributed to his appearance and his mental state.

Jakob sat up and crossed his arms. “I know. Speaking of, are you going to ask today?”

The shirt fluttered from Ren’s slack fingers. His mouth went dry. His pulse ticked up.

“Tact, Jakob,” Penelope said, picking up the shirt and smoothing it. She folded it and placed it on Ren’s pillow, next to the trousers and a pair of socks.

Ren licked his lips and focused his gaze on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t think… It was hard enough to…” Ren trailed off.

Frowning, Jakob nodded. “Right.” He took a breath. “Sorry,” he added, his tone softer.

Ren lifted his head and managed to give Jakob a conciliatory half-smile.

“I think we should leave Ren to getting dressed. Asher will be here soon, I’m sure.”

Ren’s heart clenched; the smile dropped from his face.

Jakob stood and stretched his hands over his head. He yawned again, acting as tired as Ren felt. “Sounds good to me. I need a nap.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Come on then. See you later, Ren.”

“Good luck, buddy,” Jakob said, clapping his hand hard on Ren’s shoulder. “Try to keep the power under wraps.”

“Tact,” Penelope said again, as they left the room. She closed the door softly behind them.

Ren took a few calming breaths before crossing the small space and fingering the fabric of the shirt. It slid through his fingers, slick and cool, and finer than anything Ren had ever owned before. His new clothes were gifts—thank-yous from Asher’s mother for bringing him home from the prison cell.

Ren shook his head and squinched his eyes shut to banish the memories before they could interlace and overwhelm him.

He padded to his connected bathroom and washed as fine tremors snaked up his body and into his hands. He dressed, sat on the edge of his bed, and tapped his foot against the deck plate. He stood again; his potential energy demanding to be kinetic.

Ren paced. He stalked the length of his cell—no, his room—it was his room on the Star Stream. He had to remember that. He couldn’t become mired in memories, not now, not this time.

He shook his head and pressed his palms against his ears to try to silence his swirling thoughts, but they mounted, escalating into a cacophony. Panic choked him, and his inhale sounded reedy. His body was a live wire, a string pulled taut. His muscles were tense, and he shook out his hands to release the excess energy.

He hated these meetings. He hated waiting for these meetings.

Standing in front of General VanMeerten, the senior Phoenix Corps member who decided his fate, was nerve wracking, even when Ren was well. But now that he wasn’t well, the daily meetings were worse—so much worse.

He grabbed his brown hair, tugged on the long strands, and focused on the pain to drown out the fear. He needed to be grounded in his body, not tangled in the ship. He needed an anchor. He needed Asher, but….

Ren pressed his fingers against his eyelids while visions and memories flashed through the black. He took another breath, shorter, gasping. Dread was a crushing weight on his chest. Bile crawled up his throat. Terror twisted his insides. His breathing was too rapid; he was on the edge of hyperventilating. The scope of his vision darkened on its edges. His heart pounded.

Ren’s legs gave out, and he fell heavily to the deck plate; his knees banged on the metal. He hunched, wheezing, feeling as if he was drowning on land. He pressed his sweaty hands to the floor, took comfort in the thrum of the ship, and allowed his senses to fuzz out.

* * *

The blaring of alarms wrenched Ren out of the panic attack. It was quickly followed by the sound of someone pounding at his door and calling his name. The voice was frantic, hoarse, and painfully familiar.

Cheek pressed to the floor, heart beating hard in his ears, Ren came back to himself. Drenched in sweat, he panted as he rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. He took a moment to remember where he was; the fog of panic was thick in his head. In the glow of emergency lights and the red flash of claxons, he saw taped above him the stupid picture of a spaceship Jakob had drawn. The reminder jolted Ren to the present.

He was on the Star Stream. He was safe. He was safe. Well, relatively so, if the alarms were any indication.

Ren’s chest was tight and his throat was raw, as if he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. His grasp of reality was tenuous recently. Taking stock, Ren noted the air was cold in his lungs and on his skin—it tasted stale. That wasn’t right.

Oh, yes, the alarms. Something was wrong with the ship. He could fix it. Untangling his consciousness, Ren pulled his attention to the situation at hand.

Damp shirt twisted around his body, he sat up and pressed his palm to the metal of the hull by the comm. He entered the systems and found the problem instinctively. Life support was failing, the air recyclers had stopped, oxygen levels were falling rapidly, and the temperature had dropped to freezing.

Ren fixed the glitch and restored power to the systems that had been blocked. The high-pitched whine of the ship’s warning system was replaced by the rapid cadence of a fist striking the door.

“Ren! Ren! Can you hear me?”

Asher.

There was a time when Asher’s voice, his presence, his touch, could snap Ren back to his corporeal self. A remnant of that remained, but it was a memory, an echo.

The deck plate was cold against the soles of Ren’s bare feet when he stood, and his skin prickled with goosebumps. How had it become so cold so quickly? How long had he been out? What had he done to the ship?

With a thought, Ren sent a blast of heat through the air vents to all the crew areas as an apology.

He crossed the room to open the door. The lock disengaged without Ren touching it. Asher stood on the other side. His fist was raised in mid-movement, and Ren was certain only Asher’s military training kept him from accidentally punching Ren in the nose.

“I’m all right,” Ren said.

Asher dropped his hand. “That’s debatable.” His breath puffed out in a cloud.

Ren nodded and pushed his hair from his eyes. It fell right back. “Is everyone okay?”

Asher leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. His muscles bulged. His cheeks had flushed from the cold; twin lines of pink showed along his cheekbones. He looked tired when he raised his eyebrows. Ren saw smudges of blue under his eyes. He frowned. “I assume so. The alarms stopped. That means everything is fixed. Right?”

Ren shrugged. “I don’t think the crew is going to die gasping if that’s what you mean.”

Gasping.

Ren took a step back, and rubbed his chest. Gasping. The word triggered a sense memory from the attack, of Ren not being able to breathe, of not being able to get air.

“Ren,” Asher said, expression going soft. “Are you okay?” He reached out but stopped, curling his fingers in toward his palm.

Lost in the implications, Ren stared at the aborted movement. He nodded. “I felt like I was drowning.”

“Ah, that… makes a morbid kind of sense.”

“I’m sorry.” Ren pulled at the collar of his shirt because he found the fabric suffocating, and then he shivered as sweat dried on the back of his neck and left him cold. His skin tingled. “I couldn’t breathe and I guess I made it so the rest of you couldn’t either. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. Did anyone see?”

“It wasn’t on the vid screens this time.”

Okay, that was… okay. A small victory, at least.

The comm by Ren’s door crackled to life.

“Shipwide,” Rowan’s voice cut through the static. “Everyone okay?”

Ren listened intently as a chorus of voices rang out over the comm system. Penelope and Jakob were fine in the common room. Lucas shouted through from his bunk. Ollie and Millicent answered from the cargo bay.

Asher pressed the small button next to Ren’s door. “Ren and Ash checking in. All is well.”

“That’s questionable,” Rowan said. “But all right. As you were, everyone. Except you, Ren. Let’s try not to break any other valuable parts of the ship today.”

Ren stretched out with a shaking hand and hit the comm. “Noted, Captain.”

“Rowan out.”

Asher fidgeted in the doorway. He reached out again, but paused, retreated, and clasped his hands behind him. He straightened and pulled his shoulders back.

Asher cleared his throat. “Your top button is undone.”

Ren’s shirt had pulled from his trousers. His hair was a mess. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. And Asher worried over a button, as if that was the one detail stopping General VanMeerten from taking Ren from the Star Stream and locking him away.

“Thanks.” Ren raised shaking hands and fumbled with the buttonhole.

After a moment, Asher stepped closer. “Here. Let me.”

Ren dropped his hands. If they waited for his fingers to stop trembling, they’d be late to the meeting. At the thought, his breath caught.

Asher’s fingers were strong and firm but cold when they grazed the skin of Ren’s neck. He smoothed a wrinkle over Ren’s collarbone.

“There.”

“Am I presentable now?” Ren’s voice was a croak.

Asher assessed him. “We have time for you to freshen up.”

So, Ren looked like absolute hell. Asher was gracious enough not to say it outright this time.

Despite the early hour, Asher wore his uniform. The crisp black fabric did wonders for his muscular frame. The symbol of the Phoenix Corps blazed on the outside of his upper arm—a stylized red bird rising from flames with wings outstretched. Ren stared at it. Though it was an image that had intrigued Ren when he was a child sneaking into his mother’s things, and later had awed Ren when Asher wore it, he had begun to resent it. It invaded every aspect of his life, and sometimes he wished he’d never laid eyes on it.

Ren went back into his room and into the en-suite bathroom. Asher sat on Ren’s bunk.

“Have you slept recently?”

Ren grasped the sink with both hands. “No,” he admitted. “Nightmares.”

“Yes, we know.”

Ren cleaned his gritted teeth and ignored the mirror, which reflected a person with bloodshot eyes shadowed by dark circles. He checked them and was relieved to see their familiar brown color and not the blue he’d seen far too often. He tried to fix his hair, which was much longer than it had ever been; its ends curled under his ears and at the nape of his neck. He gave up, and a lock of hair fell into his face. His wayward hair might hide how tired he looked, but he doubted it. VanMeerten watched him like a hawk at each report. Nothing slid past her sharp gaze.

“Was it a nightmare this time?”

Ren washed his face with a cloth. “No. Panic attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Asher said.

Ren peered around the bathroom doorframe. “If I didn’t have to stand in front of a vid screen every day and prove I’m not a threat to the Drift Alliance maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Not this again,” Asher muttered. He placed his hands on the bed and tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. Spying Jakob’s spaceship drawing, he snorted. “I don’t want to have this discussion.”

“Then don’t.”

Asher sighed. He rolled his shoulder. “I won’t be drawn into an argument.”

“It’s not an argument.”

“It is an argument. It’s one we have had daily for the past three months. It’s the reason we’re not…” Asher trailed off. He looked away, staring at the doorframe.

Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. Asher’s profile was as beautiful as the day he’d met him in the dungeon back on Erden. Then, he had been dirty and scruffy, and Ren had thought him handsome. Now, he was clean-shaven, and Ren had an unhindered view of the line of his strong jaw, the slope of his nose, and the beautiful green of his eyes. He was ethereal. He looked like an angel who had stepped out of myth. But he was a man, a soldier, and, on occasion, he was Ren’s friend. A few short months ago, they had been on the brink of more. But it was difficult to be more when Asher was his handler and Ren was desperately trying not to be a threat to his friends. He was failing. His panic attack and the subsequent attempt to suffocate the crew was evidence—the latest in a mounting pile.

Ren’s heart ached. “You’re right. It is an argument and it is a reason.”

Asher’s gaze flicked back to Ren, and Ren read the naked hurt. “We need to go.”

“I need another minute.”

Asher pursed his lips, but didn’t argue.

Ren sat on the bed; the mattress dipped from his weight. Avoiding distraction, he maintained a careful distance from Asher. His body sagged.

Ren put his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands across his face. He focused on his breathing, the inhale and exhale of air, the expansion and contraction of his lungs. He concentrated on the feel of the material of his shirt against his skin, the weight of his body, the deck plate beneath his feet. He flexed his muscles; his body was sore and stiff from a series of restless nights. Pressing the tips of two fingers against his neck, Ren counted the beats of his pulse until they slowed and he was certain he had slotted completely back into his body.

The cataloguing of sensation had become a ritual, a way for Ren to know where he was, who he was. He needed it, especially when he woke up so often now emerging from vivid dreams, muddled from images and emotions, and partially tangled within the ship. Reality was fluid. Ren was both man and star, human and not, and some mornings, like this one, it was difficult for Ren to discern what he needed to be. Before, Asher’s presence, his voice, his touch could bring Ren back, could pull him from the thrall of the machines. But he couldn’t continue to rely on Asher anymore. “I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Ren bit his lip.

Asher stood. “Good. Let’s go.”

Ren followed. “Jakob wants me to ask about going home, returning to Erden.”

Shaking his head, Asher guided Ren down the hallway. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to keep your head down and your mouth shut,” Asher stopped and grabbed Ren’s arm. “I know you’re an idiot duster, but I also know you’re smart enough to understand that any attention from General VanMeerten is bad attention. Pressing to go dirtside after she’s only just allowed you to leave the drift is pushing it.”

Ren shrugged off the touch. The teasing barb, that had once been a term of affection, carried an edge it didn’t have before.

“I’m asking.” Ren clenched his jaw. “I have the right to go home. She can’t keep me here.”

“She can and she will. Or do you want to end up in the prison near Perilous Space? That’s your only other option.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m—” Asher blew out an annoyed breath. He shook his head. “Fine. Don’t listen.” He turned on his heel.

Ren fumed. They walked the rest of the way to the bridge in silence. Trailing his fingers along the shiny surface of the bulkhead, he found peace in the systems of the ship, the vibrations of the engines, the sparks of the circuits. He could find freedom within these walls, if he let go. He wouldn’t need permission then, to leave, to flee, to go home.

He banished the thoughts. They were too tempting.

At the steps to the bridge, Ren remembered in time to duck his head as he entered. Rowan, the captain and Asher’s sister, greeted them with a tight smile. Millicent was already there. She was a fellow star host, a guest aboard the ship, also subjected to the scrutiny of the Corps.

Ren took his position. He stood in front of the vid screen with his head bowed and his gaze focused on the floor. Rowan stood to his right with her long blond hair in a braid and her pulse gun strapped to her side. Asher moved to Ren’s left and caged Ren between them—trapped.

His pulse ticked up; his heart beat was a steady drumming in his ears.

The vid screen flickered to life and General VanMeerten appeared. She wore her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun and turned her head to show the scar that ran from her earlobe to the point of her chin. She looked down her nose at the group and peered at Ren as though he was mud on the bottom of her boot. Though she sat in a chair, her image loomed above them, and the artificial light from her office glinted along the row of medals on her chest.

Ren shrank in her presence. She didn’t scare him, but she had the power to put him in a cell on the edge of Perilous Space and throw away the key. Even Asher’s mother, an official of the Drift Alliance, couldn’t protect him—not if VanMeerten deemed him a threat. He hated her, hated everything she stood for, and bitterness burned in Ren’s gut.

“You look ill,” she said without preamble.

Rowan shifted slightly, closer to Ren’s side. “He’s been under the weather recently,” she lied easily. “Space sick. An inner ear imbalance. That happens to dusters.”

“I’m aware. You forget I’m dirt-born, myself.”

“Then you know how artificial gravity can affect the delicate equilibrium of the human body, especially when you’re not used to it.”

Her black eyes glittered. “Are you lecturing me, Ms. Morgan?”

“Captain,” Rowan corrected. “And I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” VanMeerten looked at Millicent. “And you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, suitably meek.

“Not ill, like this one?”

Ren bristled, but bit his tongue.

“No, ma’am. But I’ve been eating and sleeping well.”

She’d picked the absolute wrong thing to say.

VanMeerten’s gaze darted to Ren. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed him. “You’re not sleeping?”

Ren opened his mouth, but Asher cut him off. “He’s not sleeping well. We’re working on it. Stress, you know, from the ordeal.”

She curled her lip. “It is my understanding one of the first signs of decompensation is the loss of the ability to sleep.”

“But isn’t oversleeping also a symptom?” Rowan said sweetly.

VanMeerten huffed. “And are you eating? I can’t tell. You were scrawny when I met you and you still are.”

Ren curled his hands into fists. His body shook.

“You can’t expect a person who is space sick to be able to eat regular meals. As my brother said, we’re working on it.”

“I shouldn’t have allowed this trip along the space route. He’s a danger when healthy, and even more so if he’s deteriorating.”

Ren’s heart sank. He bowed his head, bit his lip, and kept his posture bent and humble. He was penitent in image while his body thrummed. The same flood of warmth and energy filled him as when his star engaged in his chest, and he closed his eyes. He didn’t want her to see the blue burning in his irises.

“Allow?” Rowan challenged. “Allow? May I remind you that I am the captain of this ship and I choose where my crew goes. We were grounded on Mykonos for ten weeks. Ten! While your bureaucracy deliberated over details before finally releasing us for this run.”

VanMeerten narrowed her eyes. “No one hindered your departure except yourself. You could’ve left the star hosts and your brother behind.”

“Not on your life.” Rowan crossed her arms. “I lost my brother once. Never again. And if you think—”

“I want to be alerted at the first moment of any trouble regarding that one’s sleeping patterns,” she said, cutting Rowan off mid-word and addressing Asher. “No excuses. I’ll not risk the lives of the people of the Drift Alliance because a star host can’t get a good night’s rest. Drug him if you have to.”

Ren flinched, and his star swirled in his middle. Anger pricked up the length of his spine and settled in the tense line of his shoulders.

“Yes, we’ll do what we can,” Asher assured.

“Good. Anything else to report?” Her gaze flicked over the group, and they remained silent, though Rowan tugged on her braid and Millicent scratched at a spot on her skin. “Fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. Until then.”

The vid screen powered down.

Ren opened his eyes and stood in silence. He realized he hadn’t asked Jakob’s question, and guilt churned in his gut, mixed with the humiliation and the fear, and it was all too overwhelming. He turned and left the bridge.

Asher was a step behind and followed him until Ren stood in front of his own door.

“What do you want?” he asked. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and he was tired, so tired. Exhaustion settled over him like a fog, dulling his senses, removing the barrier between him and the ship. His equilibrium unbalanced, he staggered and leaned against the wall. He wanted to lie in his bed, merge with the ship, and leave his mortal self behind for a while, to find the freedom that he missed within the circuits and wires and systems of the Star Stream.

“I want to talk with you.”

“Haven’t we talked enough?”

Asher sighed. He took Ren’s hand and squeezed his fingers. “Ren, we haven’t said anything significant to each other in weeks.” He furrowed his brow and stared at their hands. “I understand you’re upset. Things have been different. I have a job to do and… it’s harder for us to be friends. I understand that, but I promised to protect you. And I’m doing it the only way I know how.”

“I don’t want your protection. I don’t need your protection. I want you to be my friend, my…” Ren trailed off.

“I know you’re not happy.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then tell me.” Asher moved closer. His body was a pillar of strength Ren had to resist falling into. “You didn’t have a problem telling me off when we were trapped in a dungeon together. You didn’t have a problem with making me listen to you on the Nomad and on Mykonos. What’s the problem now?”

Ren’s tongue was heavy. “If I tell you, can you promise me you won’t report it back to the Phoenix Corps? That it will stay between us?”

Asher exhaled. “Ren.” He paused. Then he nodded. “Yeah, it’ll stay between us. This time.” His voice was thick, almost uncertain. “I promise.”

Ren swayed closer, rested his forehead on Asher’s shoulder. “I know you keep your promises.”

Asher cupped the back of Ren’s neck. “I do.”

“I needed to hear that.”

“Come on, you can barely stand.”

Ren allowed Asher to tug him into the room and push him to the bed. Ren stretched out on the sheets. He kicked off his boots. Asher lay next to him. Their shoulders touched, and that reminded Ren of the times in the dungeon on Erden, when they slept next to the lattice between their cells. It reminded Ren of the tense trip on the Nomad when they didn’t know if Rowan would pay the credits they owed or if they were going to be turned in when they arrived at the Nineveh Drift. But then Asher had been Ren’s rock, his anchor, his foundation.

The past few weeks without him had been torture, but for the moment, Ren was grounded. He held no illusions that the awkwardness wouldn’t return, but now it was only them, as it had been in the dark nights in the cell when they’d trade secrets.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know if I can stop it. It’s harder now since I… since… the incident on the bridge when I couldn’t let go.”

Asher stiffened. He was obviously thinking about when Ren had been stuck inside the Star Stream, when Ren’s humanity had burned away and the cold logic of the machines had taken over. Ren had gone beyond where anyone could reach him, and it was only Asher’s quick thinking that had stopped him from killing dozens of people.

“When the power overtook you. Is that what happens at night?”

“I dream,” Ren said, softly. “I dream of Erden. I dream of people I knew. The dreams are so vivid, so terrible, and I can’t stop, even if I try.”

“They trigger your power. Like before, when you were upset or threatened, like the panic this morning. Your power activated.”

“Yes,” Ren said.

“And the ship responds. You couldn’t breathe, so life support kicked off.”

Ren swallowed. “Yes.”

“The dreams are getting worse, aren’t they?”

Ren focused on the heat of Asher’s body along the line of his side, the touch of Asher’s pinky finger against his, the cradle of the mattress against his body. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut and didn’t answer.

“Because you’re not dead exhausted at night now? Or is it something else?”

Ren shrugged. The drowsy lull of sleep slipped over him.

“It’s because we’re not as close, isn’t it? You don’t know if you can trust me because of my position with the Corps. Because you feel trapped by the people you thought would save you. Because you don’t believe I’m on your side any longer.”

No one could say Asher wasn’t perceptive. He was. It was what made him such a good soldier and a good friend. But Ren didn’t want to talk about any of it. He was blunted, right then, with the blurred edges of slumber overtaking him.

“Remember, right after, when we stayed in that hotel.” Asher shifted slightly on the bunk mattress. “And I took you to that garden? We walked around the paths and held hands.”

“You kissed me next to the carnivorous shrub.”

Asher chuckled. “You liked it.”

“I did.” Ren smiled.

“We got sprayed by the sprinklers. My shirt was soaked.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I liked the smell of the wet dirt and mulch. Your nose was scrunched the whole time.”

“It reminded me of…” Asher trailed off.

Ren heard the words anyway. It reminded Asher of Erden, of his cell, of his captivity.

“It reminded me of home.” Ren said. His smile faded.

“I miss us,” Asher said softly.

The words were an arrow in Ren’s gut. “Ash,” Ren said. “I’m tired.”

Asher patted his hand. “I know. Go to sleep, Ren.”

A shiver of fear slipped up Ren’s spine, and he gripped Asher’s hand, laced their fingers. “Please stay?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Rest, Ren. I’ll be here to keep you safe.”

Ren believed him, and, unafraid, eased into a doze.

2

When Ren woke, the entire day had passed. Asher was gone, but a note sat tented by Ren’s head.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t stay. I was needed elsewhere. I’ll see you at the next check-in.

- A

Ren crumpled the paper. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed his body erect and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. He washed his face; the cold water shocked him into wakefulness.

Needing to see something different from the four walls, he slipped on his boots and left his room. Because their relationship was broken, Asher was no longer his anchor, and Ren relied on the others.

He heard voices in the common room and stepped through the doorway. The conversation stopped dead. He waved his hand at the occupants, Jakob and Penelope, before shuffling to the counter to pour a cup of day-old coffee.

“Hey, Ren,” Jakob said, standing up from the sagging couch and crossing the room. He clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “It’s been an exciting day.”

Ren twisted his lips as he added sweetener to the steaming liquid and stirred it with a spoon. He preferred tea, but found the caffeine from the coffee helpful. Asher had shown him how to make coffee less bitter, which now seemed ironic.

“Is that your way of tactfully getting me to talk about this morning? Because you failed.”

Jakob scoffed. “I’ve been practicing my tact. Haven’t I, Pen?”

Penelope smiled, but the action did not reach her brown eyes. She brushed a long lock of curly dark hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

“Sorry, Jakob. I’m going to have to agree with Ren on this one.”

“Weeds,” Jakob said, giving Ren a shake. “I have to work harder then.”

“Probably,” Ren said, moving out from under Jakob’s touch to sit at the table. He hunched over his drink and sipped it. It burned his tongue. Ren took comfort from the sting.

“Well, now that the ice is broken… do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Ren pretended he didn’t notice the concerned glance Jakob and Penelope shared.

“Are you sure?” Penelope said. “Talking may help?”

Irritation crawled through Ren’s middle. He knew they were only trying to support him. They were his friends and undoubtedly they were scared because Ren had almost killed everyone that morning through oxygen deprivation and hypothermia and because of the other times Ren had accessed systems in the throes of a nightmare. But Penelope’s tone rubbed him the wrong way, like sandpaper against his nerves.

“The picture helped,” Ren said, recognizing that he had to give them something.

Jakob smiled as he sat down across from Ren. “It did?”

“Yeah, it reminded me I was on the ship.”

After the first time, when Ren had dreamed he was locked in the cell on Erden with Abiathar’s voice in his head and his sleeping, unconscious self had tried to open all the doors on the Star Stream including the airlocks, Jakob had drawn him the picture. Ren had laughed at the misshapen spaceship speeding along a map of stars leaving a rainbow trail in its wake. Stick-figure representations of the crew members dotted all sides of the border. Asher had a silver shoulder and a scribble of blond hair and a ridiculous frown. There had been several incidents after that.

No one was laughing anymore.

“That’s great!” Pen said, sitting up straighter. “Would you like me to draw you one as well? Oh, I know, Lucas is a great artist. You’ve seen the maps. He could do it. Would that help?”

They both regarded Ren so seriously, so earnestly, that Ren couldn’t be angry. “Sure,” he said.

Penelope’s smile went from forced to relieved. “I’ll ask him. Maybe one of his maps would help? It could remind you we’re in space?”

“And that it would be a bad idea to try to open the doors,” Jakob added. “Because of the terrifying vacuum that is right outside and the fact we would all die.”

“Noted,” Ren said, dryly.

Jakob ruffled Ren’s hair, and Ren scowled as he tried to pat it back down.

“Please, stop.”

“What? It can’t look any worse,” Jakob said with a grin.

Ren rolled his eyes. He gulped down his coffee, unable to stand the forced levity of Jakob and Pen’s combined presence. They tried too hard. Penelope wore her notoriously soft heart on her sleeve, and Jakob was acting like the boy he’d been in their home village on Erden. Jakob had always been haughty, brash, and impulsive, but likeable, and he’d inspired the admiration of the other youths. He had never teased Ren, because Ren wasn’t worth the effort; he wasn’t even on Jakob’s periphery.

Jakob was far from that boy now: His exterior was hardened, his shoulders were weary, his mind had become calculating, his point of view had been widened by what he had experienced. But he pretended for Ren’s sake.

Ren didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. “Don’t you have something to do?” Ren stood and put his mug in the sink. “A task from our beloved Captain? Other than bothering me?”

Jakob’s smile grew. “Nope, other than enjoy the ride. You were right, Ren, space is boring when you haven’t been forcibly conscripted into the service of an insane despot.”

“Glad you’re having a nice time,” Ren said; his sarcasm was both thick and sharp.

“Actually,” Penelope said, interrupting, “we really should take stock of our supplies before we head to bed, Jakob. We’re pulling into port soon and we should check to see if we’re short of anything.”

“Well, then, I do have something to do other than give you a hard time.”

“Thank the stars for that.”

Jakob playfully pushed Ren’s shoulder, but then his expression turned serious.

“Did you ask?”

Ren’s coffee turned sour in his stomach.

“Jakob…” Ren trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Jakob wanted to go back to Erden, to look for their friend, Sorcha, to look for his family. But Asher was right. The Corps wouldn’t grant permission, not now. Ren had a sneaking suspicion the constraints were partly because if Ren were planetside, he’d be out of the Corps’ jurisdiction and off their radar. They couldn’t afford to lose track of him and couldn’t be caught dirt-side following him. They didn’t belong on planets unless invited.

“No, I know. I shouldn’t have asked. Not with—” Jacob wiggled his fingers “—everything you’ve had to deal with already this morning.”

Ren couldn’t have felt more awful. “I’ll ask. I’ll ask tomorrow. The worst she can do is say no.”

Jakob had a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

Ren squirmed, unable to handle any more emotion. He turned for the door.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Pen asked before Ren could slip away. “I have leftovers from dinner.”

“I’m not hungry and I should probably check on the ship. Make sure I didn’t break anything important this time.”

“I could make you a sandwich to take with you.”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” Ren snapped. At her stricken expression, Ren moderated his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. I should go.”

She gave him a fragile smile. “Okay.”

Feeling worse for being annoyed with Pen than he did for almost killing them all, Ren ducked his head and left the common room.

There was nothing wrong with the ship. Ren used the possibility as an excuse, which was a tactic he used often to escape uncomfortable interactions. He could feel the pulse of the Star Stream in his veins, could hear the heartbeat of the systems echo his own. The ship was an extension of him. His star knew every circuit, every wire, every inch of the vessel intimately.

Touching the wall, he closed his eyes and merged with the vid feeds. He watched his own body from a camera as he walked. The experience was surreal, but more real to him than looking out of his own eyes. He was a combination of machine and man and he didn’t know what that made him—if he was human or a different entity entirely—but he did know he was safe in the systems.

He only wanted to be safe.

And he wanted his friends to be safe. But that, apparently, was a harder task than he had anticipated.

Ren pulled out of the ship and wandered to the cargo bay where he knew Millicent would be. She liked the open area and she liked that Ollie worked out down there. She wasn’t fooling anyone—well, maybe Ollie. Not that Ren could give relationship advice, since his was fairly nonexistent, if it had ever existed at all.

He detected Millicent’s own star’s signature. She radiated a calm Ren could only hope to achieve. In the beginning, the thought was that Ren would teach her control, but they all soon learned it would be the other way around. Millicent had a soft-spoken way about her and impeccable restraint. She wasn’t as powerful as Ren, though she could take over the entirety of Mykonos Drift, and she could nuance her power in a way that Ren was still trying to master.

She had been able to push Ren out of the drift’s systems when they first met, and it wasn’t all because she had been under Abiathar’s control.

She, too, had found her niche in the crew of the Star Stream. Rowan and Pen treated her like a long-lost sister. Lucas and Ollie wanted to protect her.

Ren wasn’t jealous. Or—he shouldn’t be jealous—but he was. He’d rather be regarded as a harmless kitten than a threat. It was a strange dichotomy, and Ren was working on reconciling it.

“Ren,” Millicent said, as he descended the steps to the floor of the cargo bay. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he said.

“You’re lying.”

She sat cross-legged on a rug with her back stiff. Her dark hair hung in long, straight strands; the tips curled on the floor. She stared, large eyes unblinking, pretty mouth pulled into a frown. Penelope’s mixer sat in front of her. She put the tip of her finger on the casing. Ren shuddered at the pulse of Millicent’s star, and the mixer came to life, only to short out a few moments later.

Ren sat on the floor across from her. “You should take lessons on tact from Jakob. He at least tried to cushion it when he called me out.”

She didn’t smile. “I’m not Jakob. The others may not be able to feel it, but I can.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Feel what?”

“Feel that you’re drifting. You’re everywhere in this ship, and that means you’re not in there,” she said, pushing her finger into Ren’s chest.

He rubbed the spot where her fingernail had dug in. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not anchored.”

“Well, my anchor turned out to be a cog. It’s a little difficult to want to be around someone who has more allegiance to his boss than his friend.”

She blinked, her expression unreadable. “He’s protecting you.”

Ren frowned. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference between being protected and being prisoner.” That wasn’t entirely fair, but Ren wasn’t in the mood to be fair.

“That’s not true. You need to talk to him.”

Ren glanced away. “I know, but I… can’t. We’re… trying, but things are different now.”

“You’d risk venting us all into space instead of talking to a person who holds affection for you?”

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Ren grumbled.

“He needs to understand that you don’t need protecting.”

“Did you miss the part where I have a powerful military organization wanting to lock me up? Lock us both up?”

Millicent slowly turned her head to the side. She may be calm, but sometimes the way she moved made Ren think of a puppet. It was eerily reminiscent of when he’d met her, when she was under the influence of Abiathar’s voice and her eyes had glowed in her vacant body.

“We’re stars. We’re more powerful than any person or any group. Protection from Asher means nothing.”

“I’d think twice about saying that to anyone other than me. It sounds a little scary and threatening. The crew might not understand what you mean.”

“Do you understand?”

Ren’s frown deepened. He cleared his throat. “What are you up to?” Changing the subject, he gestured at the machine.

Millicent slowly tilted her head to the other side. “Playing with Penelope’s mixer. I haven’t been successful.”

“Is it broken?”

“I don’t think so? Unless I broke it.”

Ren hid a smile. Millicent and he were opposites. When Abiathar used her powers to take over the drift, it had drained her; Ren’s powers only seemed to grow. He had tapped into the vastness of space and unleashed a torrent of potential, while her star withered. As they had discovered, their bodies reacted differently to the innate power. Millicent had control, and Ren was going to burn up from the inside. Abiathar could influence others with his voice. Nadie could see the future. Who knew what others could do?

Ren held out his hand and concentrated. The tingle of power emanated from his chest and trickled down to his fingertips; his vision went blue as he pushed out and explored the simplistic innards of the mixer. There was a slight glitch, which he fixed, but otherwise nothing was broken and the power source was fully charged. He found the switch, flicked it on, and the beater whirred to life. He turned it off and disengaged.

Millicent pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “How can you do that without touching it?”

“I don’t know. I see it and I know what to do. I can’t really explain it.”

She shook her head so her long hair swept across the floor. “I understand why you have a hard time controlling it. We should work on control. Sit with me.”

They’d done this before, when Ren had started to go haywire, after the first time he had entered the ship in his dreams. He mirrored her pose, and she guided him through breathing exercises.

“I think everyone has gone to bed,” she said softly. “Except Lucas, who is on the bridge. Wearing goggles.”

“Yeah, I don’t get that either.”

She snorted.

Ren lifted the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes and followed her lead, inhaling and exhaling. With each breath, his star centered. The warmth glowed in the middle of his chest and pulsed with his heartbeat. The ship enveloped him in tranquility. The soothing hum of its systems and the energy from circuits flowed through the ship like a life force. The exercises were meant to make him more concentrated in his own body, in his corporeal self, but Ren found the opposite.

He reached for calm, but it was elusive, especially when his emotions were in such turmoil. Serenity was slippery, like a fish pulled from the lake on Erden. The systems pulled on his being, and he couldn’t resist, and his thoughts turned toward the dark and dire—the confines of his cell on Erden, the loss of his brother, the desperate days of wandering across the countryside.

He gave in to the Star Stream; he fled from the tumultuous mortal coil into the freedom and safety of the ship. He floated amid the systems, and found the ship’s time much later than he thought. He’d lost time during his walk from the common area to the cargo bay, and the fact disconcerted him. Everyone was indeed asleep, except Lucas and Asher.

Through the comm system, he could hear Asher talking. Curious, Ren followed the stream of information.

“The subjects continue to remain stable.”

Ren flinched from the clinical terms. Subjects. Then he bristled. He was a star host, and Asher would do well to remember that.

“The female is in control of her power. There have been no incidents. The male…”

Here, Asher trailed off. He put down the tablet he dictated into and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He pushed the tablet away and turned to the bed.

“Oh, Ren,” he muttered. “What is going on with you?” He plopped onto the bunk and hit his pillow twice. “I don’t know how to help you.”

Asher seemed reluctant, confused, and sad. He didn’t gleefully recount that Ren had nearly killed them that morning—while in the throes of panic, but no less dangerous for that. Asher didn’t report the incident or Ren’s confession. And when Asher sighed and kicked off his shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head, Ren spied the marred flesh of his shoulder, the shredded Corps tattoo, the reminder that Asher had suffered at the hands of the Corps himself. Yet, he had faith.

Ren’s heart lurched.

Asher wore a tough front most of the time, but still waters ran deep. Ren ached to be with him, ached to wrap his arms around Asher and hold on, keep him safe, bolster him.

He couldn’t.

Ren blinked his eyes open, fully present in his body. He sat across from Millicent, and his heart thumped, his pulse raced, and he could feel the moisture gather in the corners of his eyes.

“Ren?” Millicent asked. “Are you okay?”

He breathed. “I’m… fine. I think?”

“Where did you go?”

“Comm system,” he said. He flexed his fingers and absently touched the cool deck plate. “Asher is awake.”

Millicent frowned. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t feel it.”

“I could.” Ren wiped at his eyes. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to feel anymore. I’m… adrift.”

Millicent gave him a commiserating glance. “Maybe you shouldn’t worry about how you feel right now. Focus on being present in yourself, in your star and in your body. You’re putting yourself in danger if you can’t control it.”

“I’m putting everyone in danger.” Ren hunched and crossed his arms. “For so long all I wanted to do was be out here in space, among the stars, and now I think it would’ve been better if I had never left Erden, if I had stayed and hid and let Asher leave on his own.”

Millicent blinked her large eyes and pursed her lips. “Then he would have won. And your friends would be in danger—or dead.”

And Ren couldn’t argue with that. He ducked his head and traced the scratches that adorned the deck plate of the cargo bay.

“You need rest,” she said.

Ren nodded. Despite sleeping all day, he hadn’t recovered from the past few weeks of insomnia and interrupted sleep. He had to look better for tomorrow when he would check in with VanMeerten.

He needed to give Asher reasons not to doubt him, not to have to choose between him and the Corps, because Ren was fairly certain he’d lose.

“Goodnight, Millicent.”

She smiled, small and private. “Goodnight, Ren. Sweet dreams.”

“Let’s hope.”

With that, Ren left the cargo bay and slipped like a ghost through the hallways to his room.

* * *

Ren was lost. He was in the forest, that much he knew. He could see the sinking sun through the trees and the canopy of leaves. He listened for the sound of anyone or anything, but it was silent: no birds, no wind, no animals scampering in the underbrush, no life. As he trudged along the winding path, the trees loomed, blocking the meager light, casting shadows that danced and threatened. Their spindly branches reached out, grabbed at his jacket, dug their claws into the fabric, and held him. Ren pulled away from the terrifying embrace, as the forest creaked, the tree bark moaned, and terror seized Ren’s heart.

He ran. Legs pumping, Ren burst through the bracken and stumbled onto a familiar beach. The sun disappeared over the horizon with an unnatural quickness, and the stars and broken moon cast sparkles on the water. Ren’s feet sank in the sand, and, when he tried to move, he was stuck fast. The air was syrupy, sticky and dense. He struggled to inhale and his hands shook as he clutched at his shirt.

Ren looked behind him and the forest swayed, menacing and unreal. But Ren recognized this beach; he recognized the lake and the sky. A memory stirred, and then a name.

“Liam!” he yelled.

He was on Erden. This was his and Liam’s lake. He remembered. He remembered lying in the sand before the floaters came, carted him away, and scared Liam into hiding, beyond Ren’s reach.

“Liam!” he yelled again; his voice caught on his brother’s name.

He managed to pull his foot from his boot, leaving it in the quicksand. He moved toward the water, and from one wave to the next, the water turned from clear blue to red.

Crimson foam and red froth slapped on the shore and smelled of metal and fear. Ren tasted it in the back of his throat.

“Liam!”

“Ren,” the voice came from next to him, over his shoulder. The breath was hot against his ear.

“Liam?” He spun and caught sight of a fleeting shadow. But there was nothing behind him, and Ren knew he was chasing a ghost.

He ran anyway, moving slowly, his limbs heavy. Even his blinking was slowed by the viscous atmosphere. Sound returned in the soft slap of the waves on the shore and the torture of Liam’s voice taunting him.

“Why did you leave me?” Liam’s voice echoed, accusatory and broken.

“I didn’t!” Ren shouted, desperate. “I was taken. They took me away. I didn’t want to leave!”

“You left me. You left me.”

Ren spun in a circle and the wash of colors of the forest and the lake blended in his vision. He smelled the tang of the blood-water.

“I will find you,” Ren said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I will find you. I promise. I will bring you home.”

“You can’t.”

“I will!”

The voice faded, and with it the presence of whomever had been with him. Ren became frantic, pleading. “Liam?” He dropped to his knees and scrabbled along the beach; his hands sank into the wet sand. “Liam!”

“Ren,” the voice was next to him now, but deeper, softer, not Liam’s.

Ren sobbed.

“Ren, wake up.”

Ren rocketed out of sleep. There were no alarms, no indication he had entered the workings of the ship, but he had been dreaming.

Asher’s arms were strong around him, and Ren fought. He pushed until he was no longer trapped and fell to the deck plate. His body hurt, sore from the dream, sore from slapping against the metal. He flailed his limbs and noted they moved at their normal speed, unhindered. He breathed and it was no longer a labor. Gaze wild, he looked around the room and saw the gleaming walls of the ship. Looking up, he saw Jakob’s picture and a new star chart.

“Ren?” Asher crouched, and his voice was soft, as if he was gentling a wild animal.

Ren held up a hand. “Don’t touch me,” he gasped. “Don’t. Stay away. I can’t… I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Asher nodded. He curled his fists against his thighs. “Okay. I won’t touch you.”

“Liam?”

“You were dreaming.”

“I was on Erden. I was stuck in the forest. In the sand.” Ren looked around, confused. The light was low and the shadows moved. They made Ren nervous, and, after a flick of his hand, the lights blazed.

Asher blinked, then stood. “Ren, it was a dream. You’re on the Star Stream.”

“I know,” Ren snapped, pulling his body straight. He paced the length of his cell. His pulse thumped; adrenaline was a live current in his veins. He gazed around the small space, not seeing it. Expecting to see granules of sand, he studied his palms. There was nothing.

“I need to go back.”

“Where?”

“Home. I need to go back home.”

Asher put his hands on his hips and gazed at the ceiling. “Ren, we’ve talked about that. It’s not possible right now. Not until you’re stable.”

“This is how you can help me.”

Asher went pale. “What?”

“You want to help me. This is how you can help me. You want me to be the person you knew? I need to go back.”

“How? Were you… listening to me? Spying on me?”

Ren froze. He ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky with sweat, and he pushed it from his face.

“I heard you over the comm. I was in the ship.”

“Purposefully?”

“Kind of? That’s not the point.”

“It kind of is the point, Ren. You spied on me.”

“That doesn’t matter. If you do care about me, you’ll help me.”

“And if I don’t?”

Ren hadn’t considered that. He narrowed his eyes and slowed his manic pacing. “I’ll do what I have to, anything I have to.”

Asher pointed at him. “You are out of control,” he said, enunciating every word. “Do you understand that? Do you get the position I’m in here? I’m trying to protect you!”

“You are trying to keep me captive!” The words erupted from Ren’s mouth. As his power flickered, the lights dimmed, and the comm crackled. “I don’t need you to protect me. I am a star, more powerful than anyone on this ship.”

Asher stepped back. His green eyes narrowed, and his mouth clamped into a firm line. He clenched his jaw, and, with his shoulders pulled back, he was every inch a soldier.

Ren hated it.

“Your behavior is erratic. You can’t sleep. You don’t eat. You dream and you put everyone on this ship at risk. You are falling apart, and everyone can see it but you.”

“You think I can’t see it? You think I don’t feel it? I know, all right? I know.” Ren peered at his hands. He pulled his fingers toward his palm, then straightened them and spread them out as far as they could go. “I know all of that. I know and I’m trying. But you don’t understand.”

“And I suppose Millicent does.”

Ren snapped his head up. “What the stars does that mean?”

Asher crossed his arms. He studied the door to the hallway intently, as if it held the secrets to the universe. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Ren frowned. His body trembled. “I want to go back to my village. I want to try to find my family. I want to find Liam. I need to know if everyone really is gone.”

Asher met Ren’s pleading gaze with a hard, cold one of his own. “You can’t.”

“Ash—”

“Not while VanMeerten is looking for any excuse to throw you in a cell. You need to stay under her radar and keep your power under control. Am I clear?”

Ren flushed, embarrassed, ashamed, and angry. “Crystal. And I think you should leave.”

“Ren—”

“Get out.” He bit out the words. “Or do I need permission for that, too?”

The remaining color of Asher’s complexion fled save for two bright spots on his cheeks. He stood with his body in one long, taut line.

“Fine. Report in an hour. Try to be presentable.”

Asher spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. He slammed the door behind him with enough force that Ren’s night table rattled.

The star throbbed in Ren’s middle, and he was livid down to his bones. He yelled, wordless, and a pulse of blue light flashed. The comm crackled, and his lights stuttered. For a moment, every system halted, frozen by Ren’s frustration. It was only a moment, then everything whirred back to life.

He sank to his floor and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

After he calmed down, Ren washed, and, following Asher’s instructions, attempted to look presentable. Foregoing breakfast, he walked to the bridge and jerkily moved to his spot next to Rowan.

She raked her gaze over him, and her mouth tightened. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with the slight pause in the ship’s systems about an hour ago, would you?”

Ren glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I figured.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I’m glad you managed to rest. But you’re looking a little… defiant today. You may want to tuck that away before the feed goes live.”

Ren didn’t answer. He lifted his chin and he heard Rowan sigh next to him.

Millicent skipped up the stairs and, meek as always, stood next to Rowan. Her deference made Ren burn even more. Asher was the last to join them. He didn’t look at Ren. He kept his gaze on the far wall and when he turned to face the vid screen, his movements were abrupt and sure, soaked in military routine.

Rowan glanced at them, but said nothing. The tension on the bridge was thick enough to cut with a saw. It would be apparent to VanMeerten and it would launch questions and give her enough reason to make the Star Stream turn around and go back to Mykonos Drift.

But Ren was finished playing a part. He was a star host. He was a being imbued with the power of the stars. He was more than this body. He would not apologize for his existence any longer.

The screen blinked into life. In her uniform as always, VanMeerten sat at her desk. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and there was no indication she had moved since the last time Ren had seen her. She could very well be as nonhuman as Ren. He had no proof she wasn’t.

“I trust you are all well,” she said, tenting her fingers and peering down at them from the end of her pointed nose.

Unflinching, Ren met her gaze. He didn’t speak, but she raised her eyebrow at him and her lips curled.

“Everything is very well,” Rowan said. “As you can see, Ren has rested and is looking better. His power is under control, and Millicent is adjusting to crew life.”

“He is over space sickness in one day? That’s impressive. In my experience, it takes closer to a week.”

“It was a mild case, and our medic is second to none.”

“I see. Well, if there are no concerns, then I will check in again tomorrow.”

On the screen, VanMeerten reached to close the connection, but before she could, Asher stepped forward. He blocked Ren’s view of the general. All Ren could see was the strong line of Asher’s back and the symbol of the rising Phoenix, wings outspread, flames wreathed around the bird’s talons, on the top of his bicep.

“Actually, I have an incident to report.”

Rowan cut her gaze to Asher. She seemed concerned, scared, and confused.

“Ash,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Telling the truth,” he said.

Ren couldn’t see VanMeerten’s face, but he could imagine how she appeared as her features took on a predator-like expression. She was hungry for any reason to lock Ren away for the rest of his natural life—until she had use for him.

“Ren has nightmares,” Asher continued. “He has nightmares and panic attacks and he puts us at risk. He has attempted to vent the ship on one occasion. On another, the oxygen began to fail.”

“Ash!” Rowan barked.

The words lanced through Ren like a sword; the betrayal bit deep into his flesh. His mouth fell open. Asher kept his eyes fixed on the screen.

“Why have you not reported this sooner?”

“Because I was giving the subject the benefit of the doubt. I was attached to him, but I cannot remain quiet any longer. He obviously cannot handle the environment here and he is putting us all in danger.”

Ren recoiled from the impersonal language. Asher spoke in the past tense. He “was” attached, as if he wasn’t now. Ren had known the end was coming, but to hear it, to experience it, in front of the woman who wanted him locked away and in front of his friends was more than he could bear. Part of him wanted to shrivel up and die, but another part of him, the part intimately connected to the star, that part of him raged.

“I see. Captain Morgan, I believe this experiment of allowing the subjects into space has failed. Come back to Mykonos immediately.”

Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “No. The Corps does not dictate my business. I have made a commitment to see this supply run through and I will not have my reputation sullied because of a snit fit between my brother and Ren.”

“Do you not agree that the subject is a danger?”

“He’s about as dangerous as anyone on this ship. I have a pulse gun and know how to use it. Ollie easily is the strongest. Pen could poison us. A teenage twig from a dust-hole planet is merely one of many threats.”

“So you do believe him a threat? A weapon?”

Rowan opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut. VanMeerten had twisted her words. Rowan couldn’t backtrack.

Ren, however, had heard enough. He was through with others deciding his fate. He was taking control of this situation—his status be damned. He pushed Asher out of his way and stood in front of VanMeerten.

“I want to go home,” Ren said, his voice even, his tone sharp as steel.

VanMeerten raised an eyebrow. She braced her hands on her desk, fingers spread. “What?”

“I want to go home,” Ren stated. “I don’t know how much simpler I can say it.”

“Ren,” Asher whispered harshly, but Ren ignored him.

“You don’t have a home. It was my understanding that your village was destroyed.”

Ren controlled his flinch and stood his ground. He pulled his spine straight and didn’t shrink from her gaze.

“Maybe, but I want to see for myself. You can’t keep me from going.”

She stood, hands gripping the edge of her desk, and loomed forward. “I can. And I will. Captain Morgan, I want you to turn your ship around immediately and bring this young man back to Mykonos.”

“No,” Ren said. “You will not, Captain.”

“Are you testing me, star host?”

“I have a name,” Ren said. He clenched his fists; anger rose hot and quick. Sparks flickered around his fingers. “I’m not a subject. I’m a person and I have a home.” His vision turned blue around the edges. “And I want to go back to my planet and find my family. You have no right to deny me.”

“I have every right. You are a threat, and it is my duty to protect—”

“I am not a threat!” The vid screen fluttered as static gathered at the corners. “I am a star host, and you cannot stop me. Your Phoenix Corps cannot stop me, and you know that.”

“Ren,” Asher said, his voice a low command. “You need to calm down. Your eyes are blue.”

“Stay out of this, Ash, especially if all you are going to do is take her side.” Ren pointed a shaking finger toward the vid screen. Asher crossed his arms and kept his expression flat, and Ren saw the connection between them turn to cinder. Good. He didn’t need Asher. It was better he didn’t have any emotional entanglements.

“I can see that this situation has gotten out of hand. I’ve allowed you too much freedom. I’m afraid I am going to have to call you back to Mykonos and, if you cannot control yourself, I will be forced to send you to the facility near the Perilous Space.”

Ren turned back to VanMeerten and stalked forward. “Do I need to remind you I disabled an entire ship with a thought? That I can make your weapons inert with barely a whisper? I can infect Mykonos Drift like a virus in a mere breath, and then where will you be? How can you protect your people from a power like mine?”

Ren hit a nerve. He could see it in the twitch of VanMeerten’s mouth, the worried wrinkle that appeared on her forehead, the almost imperceptible movement of her eyebrows.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rowan said. She slammed her hand down on Ren’s shoulder and yanked him back. “Obviously, Ren here is a little homesick and a lot more space sick than we thought. General, the crew of the Star Stream will gladly take him back to Erden under the watchful eye of your very own corporal here after we finish this supply run. If you grant us this request, of course. I am sure you understand that with the extra mouths to feed on the ship, I need all the income available to me, even with the Corps’ generous stipend. I will personally see that Ren gets a good night’s sleep, drugged if needed as per your suggestion.” She gave Ren a shake as if he was a naughty puppy. “We’ll check in tomorrow, and you can give us your decision regarding the trip back to his planet. Until then, Morgan out.”

Asher lunged for the comm console and ended the transmission before the general could so much as blink.

Then Ren found himself pinned to the wall with Rowan’s forearm like iron across his chest and her face tilted up to stare right into his.

“What the stars has gotten into you?” she demanded, seeming utterly furious; her cheeks were pink. “Are you addled? Threatening the Corps? After what you did yesterday morning? Stars, Ren. I should shove you out the aft airlock right now after that stunt. Seriously. Taunting a general? You are going to end up in Perilous Space!”

Ren could barely breathe. His head thunked against the wall. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t, not in front of Asher and Rowan and Millicent, but the tears burned in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but they spilled down his cheeks in rivulets.

“And you!” she said, swinging around to thrust a finger into Asher’s chest, and thereby letting go so Ren could breathe again. “What the stars was that? I thought the plan was to protect Ren, not throw him to a black hole?”

“It needed to be said.”

“What is going on with you two?”

Asher stuck out his chin. “It needed to be reported for our own safety. Rowan, do you honestly think the Corps wouldn’t charge you with treason if they found out what’s been going on without us telling them? They’d take away your license to captain. Stars, they’d take away this ship! Are you willing to risk everyone’s home? Your livelihood?”

Rowan stared, astonished, mouth open. “What’s wrong with you? A few months ago you would’ve died for this kid and now you’re acting like you hardly know him.”

Asher crossed his arms. “Things change.”

Rowan threw up her hands. “That’s great. Just great. You’re both acting like your personalities were replaced when I wasn’t looking, like you’ve been swapped out.” She paused. “You haven’t been, have you?”

“No,” Ren said.

Asher rolled his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know. Since I’ve met you I’ve seen things I didn’t know were possible. What’s body snatchers compared to transporting a ship across the cluster?” She tossed her long, golden braid over her shoulder. “What do we do now?”

“I need to go back to Erden,” Ren said softly. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” He was. He was so sorry. “I’m not myself. I don’t feel like myself.”

Her expression softened. “We’ll figure it out, Ren. But you can’t do that,” she said, sweeping her arm toward the vid screen. “Understand? You have a target on your back a league wide, and if you want to live, if you want to have any kind of freedom, you have to be on your best behavior.”

Ren bit his lip and nodded. He didn’t want to say anything about his supposed freedom. This wasn’t the moment. But he understood. Cogs, what had he done? “I understand.”

She touched his arm. “Good. Now, go do something and get out of my sight. I’m irritated just looking at you.”

With his eyes downcast, Ren nodded. He brushed passed Asher. Their shoulders touched, the tips of Ren’s fingers whispered over the back of Asher’s hand, and, for a split second, the components of Asher’s shoulder flashed in Ren’s mind. But the moment ended, and the feelings Ren had for Asher were mired in complications and regret.

Maybe it would be easier if Ren hadn’t formed such a strong bond with Asher in the beginning. Maybe if they hadn’t kissed; maybe if Ren hadn’t allowed himself the affection he had for Asher; maybe if Ren hadn’t fallen so quickly, so deeply, hadn’t counted on Asher and cared for Asher; maybe the thick tension between them wouldn’t seem so terrible.

In his heart, Ren wanted Asher’s friendship back. He wanted to explore their relationship. He wanted to hold hands and kiss and be together. And once he’d been certain Asher wanted that too. Ren wasn’t sure of that any longer. And stars, Ren couldn’t get past the fact he had traded one prison for another. Instead of a despotic baron, the organization to which Asher held the most allegiance was his captor.

Now, when Ren saw Asher, all he could see was another person who wanted to control and use him—and who had betrayed him.

It made panic and fear crawl into his throat and sweat break out along his skin. It made his heart stutter, and not in the way it should. Everything was wrong.

And there was no way to fix it.

3

Another day in space. Another dream.

Ren woke on the floor with cold sweat rolling down the nape of his neck as he panted; his breath fogged the deck plate. He didn’t know how he got there. He hadn’t woken when he’d jarred to the floor, but his fingers were pressed flat against the metal and his arms were tense, as though he had dragged himself there. No ship alarms sounded, but his door swung open. There stood Jakob and Asher, both in their sleeping clothes and both absolutely panicked.

Ren turned his head and regarded them with a hazy slitted gaze. Jakob was ashen; his brown hair was mussed and in disarray. Asher crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Ren with his jaw clenched. Neither breached the threshold, and that told Ren more than anything.

“What did you see?”

“Everything,” Asher said at the same time Jakob replied with, “Nothing.”

Jakob lied.

Ren nodded with his overheated cheek pressed to the cool floor. He stayed sprawled there for a long moment as his senses came out of the fog of the nightmare like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

“Did I do anything else?”

Jakob shot a glance to Asher. He licked his lips. “Not this time,” Jakob said, staring over Asher’s shoulder. “No turning off the artificial gravity. No trying to vent the ship. Not even the creepy woman’s voice over the comm telling stories. Just the… images on the vid screen.”

Ren gasped and nodded. “That’s good… that’s better.”

Asher’s mouth twisted.

“Yeah. Incident number six was way better than incident number five when you tried to suffocate us.”

Humor. Levity. Ren couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it.

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Are you okay?” Jakob asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Jakob said softly. He mustered a smile in Ren’s direction.

Asher merely frowned.

Ren waved them both away and pushed his aching body upright. He didn’t go far, but chose to remain on the floor, leaning against the lip of his bunk, with his legs crossed.

When he looked up, Jakob was gone, and Asher had stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Ren sighed. Asher wanted to talk, and Ren’s insides ached with a fierce loneliness he hadn’t experienced since the first night in the cell of the Baron’s citadel. He didn’t want Asher’s words or his pity. And he didn’t want to relive the details of the nightmare, which had sent him twisting in his sheets and crawling across the floor. The sense memories clung to him, like cobwebs whose phantom threads, fluttery and strange and stubborn, brushed against his skin. The strands were infinite; they touched the deep places of Ren’s consciousness and burrowed down to his marrow to pull out the things that terrified him most.

He didn’t want to share the nightmare, but Asher’s flat countenance and sure gaze couldn’t hide his worry. It flashed in his eyes and ran in shaky tremors down the length of his crossed arms, as if he hugged himself to keep in his concerns and not as a defense to reflect whatever Ren had to throw at him.

Ren bent his knees, propped his arm up, and allowed his fingertips to dangle. Sweat flattened his hair against his temples. He regarded Asher coolly as Asher sat on the edge of Ren’s bunk.

“Do you remember when we went dancing?”

Asher blinked at the non-sequitur. “On Mykonos?”

Rowan had taken them dancing in a place with loud music and rotating lights. The beat had vibrated through Ren’s boots. “I had never been dancing like that before.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t bad. Well, not as bad as Jakob.”

“I liked the slow dance.” Asher had grabbed Ren in his arms and pulled him to the dance floor. They’d laughed and moved, and all Ren’s worries had dissolved in happiness and the rhythm of the music. “I liked being with you. With the crew. I miss that.”

“We’re here now, Ren.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re not. It’s different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Ren looked away.

“Ren, you’re not okay,” he said flatly.

“No. I’m not, but I didn’t feel like broadcasting it.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Asher said softly. Ren’s stomach twisted. Asher had all but confirmed his latest nightmare had played on the vid screens. The crew had seen what Ren couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember. “You’re getting worse. And they know it.”

Ren twisted his lips. “I’m aware the crew already knows. Pen can’t lie for anything.”

“Not them. The Corps.”

Ren rested his head on his knees. “You told her. You threw me to the wolves.”

“I had to.”

“Why? Do you want me to leave? Be locked away?”

“Stars, Ren. You know I don’t want that.”

“I don’t know what you want, to be honest. I don’t understand why you hold allegiance to them at all.”

“Because I have to. I promised five years.”

“You and your promises,” Ren said bitterly. That was loyalty Ren couldn’t understand, not after what the Corps had done to Asher, not after having left him for a year to rot in a cell on what they called a backwater planet. But Ren was beginning to realize there were things he would never understand and maybe wasn’t meant to.

“And I promised I’d keep you safe. Any way I could. This is the only way. Don’t you understand that?”

Ren felt the slight touch of Asher’s fingertips across the back of his hand. His star sparked and sought out the mechanism in Asher’s shoulder instinctually.

Asher shivered.

“There’s a fine line between safety and captivity.”

Asher tensed and frowned. “You think this is bad? Wait until you get yourself locked away in a real cell.”

Ren laughed. His laughter bordered on hysterical and it bubbled, harsh and loud, from his throat. “You think I don’t know? You think I want to spend my nights mired in dreams? You think I want any of this?”

Asher’s jaw creaked. “I don’t know. You’re certainly acting like you don’t care. What the hell was wrong with you yesterday in front of VanMeerten?”

“Me?” Ren asked, voice breaking. “You’re the one who ratted me out as being unstable.”

Avoiding Ren’s gaze, Asher studied the walls. “It needed to be done. I had to.”

Ren swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He narrowed his eyes, and the sense of being betrayed welled up fresh within him. It bled out from Ren’s core, like a tide, push-pulling its way through him until he was filled with it, until it was a torrent right under his skin.

“I never thought you would become the person I would need to fear.”

Asher whipped his head around and stared, his green eyes bright and furious, at Ren sitting on the floor. His skin turned red, and his mouth pulled into a taut, flat line. His voice quivered, though Ren didn’t know if it was due to fury or shock or both. “You’re afraid of me?”

Ren was hollow down to his bones. He didn’t have it within him to placate Asher, to reassure him. He listed to the side and allowed his head to thump against the pristine wall. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Asher didn’t respond right away, and that was answer enough for Ren.

It seemed Asher didn’t have the humor to respond with his usual, “of a stick like you?” or, “of a duster? Never.”

All the levity that had marked their relationship had been sucked out and replaced with an uneasy truce, which included secrets, tense silences, and duplicity.

Ren rubbed his face. “I can’t do this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Asher’s eyes turned sad. “I know,” he said again softly.

Ren flexed his fingers and kept eyes down. “You were my anchor and now… I’m drifting.”

“I know that, too. You have to… find someone else.”

“Are you telling me to give up on us?” Ren dragged his gaze up to meet Asher’s.

Asher wouldn’t meet his eyes. He picked at his sleep trousers, worrying a thread between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes.”

This moment had been inevitable. Ren had begun to dread it over the last few days and, now it was here, he was oddly relieved. He had imagined the feeling would be akin to a punch to the chest. Ren had envisioned that if he were standing, he would’ve gone weak-kneed and fallen to the deck plate, doubled over and clutching at his heart, barely able to breathe. But he was sitting, with his legs bent, his chin resting on his knees, his feet flat on the floor. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic. In fact, the pain was more like a throb than a stab, and even that was pitiful compared to what Ren’s thoughts had conjured.

“Oh,” Ren breathed. He knotted his fingers in his shirt. All traces of his earlier anger fled, and he was left with a numbness that settled into his middle. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“I guess it is.” Asher stood. “Ren,” he started, looking down on Ren’s hunched form, “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m doing everything I can. Even if I can’t be your tether, I’m going to follow through on my promises. All of them.”

And there was the dagger-sharp pain Ren had been waiting for. It came wrapped in familiar language and concern, in a combination of truth and lies and pity. It sliced through Ren, making his eyes sting and his hands tremble.

“Please go,” he said, blinking.

Asher nodded. “Report in an hour,” he said. “If you’re up for it. I can cover for you, maybe, if you’d rather–”

“I’ll be there,” Ren said his voice was a whisper. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and willed himself to be stronger. “I’ll be there. I don’t want to arouse suspicion, especially after last time. So I’ll be there.”

“All right. Ren, I–”

“Please leave.” Ren squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to hear any more.

Asher didn’t hesitate, and Ren heard his slow footsteps as he crossed the room. He paused at the threshold, but, to Ren’s relief, didn’t say anything and left, softly closing the door behind him.

Ren stayed on the floor for a long moment. Then he opened his eyes, shook his hand from the fabric of his shirt, and pressed his fingertips to the floor. He slid into the ship, cast off his body, and stayed in the freedom of the systems as long as he could.

* * *

The defiance that had marked Ren’s appearance in front of VanMeerten the day before had tempered into a feeling less fierce, less incendiary—a slow-burning stubbornness. He yearned to go home, to find Liam, to see his village, but those desires had shifted to the back of his mind after his conversation with Asher that morning. His immediate thoughts centered on other matters, such as staying sane without an anchor.

However, he lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes when the general appeared on screen.

For the first time since the check-ins had started, VanMeerten appeared human. A few flyaway strands of her iron-gray hair escaped her bun. She had a worry line between her eyebrows, and, while her medals still shined, there was a crease in her uniform.

It didn’t seem like a victory. Ren didn’t look much better, wearing his sleep clothes, barefoot, hair mussed. Their confrontation had taken a toll on both of them. Ren wondered what that meant.

“Good morning,” Rowan said from her position between Ren and Millicent.

“Hello, Captain Morgan. I trust everyone is well.”

Rowan was thrown by the politeness. “Sure?” she answered.

VanMeerten nodded. “Good.” She lifted a manila folder from her desk and shuffled a few papers. “Corporal Morgan has reported that the male star host has been experiencing vivid nightmares bordering on hallucinations and has unconsciously caused failures in several different systems aboard your ship. He shows symptoms of mental decompensation. He is an active danger, though unintentionally, and could become a substantial threat if his connections with technology continue. Is this correct, Corporal?”

“Yes.” Asher didn’t hesitate.

Ren bristled; his body went tense. He bit his lower lip to keep from lashing out, from saying anything stupid to get him in more trouble.

“And your recommendation is to remove the subject from an artificial environment?”

“Yes. For a while. A break from technology may provide a necessary reset.”

Ren stiffened. His eyes wide, he glared at the side of Asher’s head. Was he recommending Ren be removed from the Star Stream? Did he want Ren to be locked away? Like in the iron cell at the citadel? The star in Ren’s chest pulsed, and the warmth of it spread down his limbs.

“Captain Morgan,” VanMeerten said, tenting her fingers and leveling her hard stare at Rowan. “Does your offer stand of taking the star hosts to their home planet?”

Ren’s mouth dropped open, and he whipped his head around to stare at Rowan.

Rowan blinked. She cast a glance in Ren’s direction; her eyebrows were pulled together. “Excuse me?” she asked, addressing the general.

“Can you take them back to Erden?” VanMeerten said, punctuating each word.

“Yes. Yes, after we finish our current trajectory, we’ll plot a course and—”

“No. It must happen immediately.”

Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “I think I’ve been clear about how I feel in regard to the Corps interfering in my business.”

“I understand, Captain.” VanMeerten said, putting down the papers. “I will have a regiment meet you at your destination.”

“Wait,” Rowan said. “What?”

“To take the male into custody.”

“Explain.”

“If Corporal Morgan’s assessment is correct, then the threat is imminent. Either the star host goes back to the dirt to reset, as the corporal has endorsed, or we take him to the prison near Perilous Space and monitor his progress there.”

Cold fear washed down Ren’s body, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking. He knew that he had pressed last time, but he didn’t think he’d done so much damage. He had touched a nerve, exposed VanMeerten’s fear, and now he paid the price. Ren shrank back and pressed his shoulder blades against the wall.

Rowan’s jaw worked. “That seems a bit of an overreaction.”

VanMeerten smiled, predatory, with the scar on her cheek prominent. “You said yourself he was a danger.”

“But—”

VanMeerten placed her hands on her desk and loomed. “Either the planet or the prison. It’s your choice, Captain.”

Rowan tapped her foot and tugged her braid, then crossed her arms over her chest. Using their eyes, mouths, and eyebrows, she and Asher shared an intense silent conversation, which Ren couldn’t decipher. For a strained moment, Ren thought Rowan would choose her job over him, especially given the influence from Asher. “It’s not much of a choice, is it?” she finally replied. “I’m not going to condemn Ren to another cell.”

“Very well. Your decision is confirmed and will be documented.”

“I’ll have our pilot plot a course to Erden.”

VanMeerten didn’t acknowledge the statement. She cut the video feed. The screen went blank.

The tense atmosphere relaxed as if a taut string had been cut and the ends were fluttering to the ground. Ren sagged against the wall. Rowan bowed her head, and Asher rubbed a hand over his brow. They didn’t speak. Ren silently thanked the stars for Rowan.

“She didn’t ask about me,” Millicent said, softly.

Rowan laughed, breathless. “No, no she didn’t. I think that’s a good thing.”

Millicent’s mouth turned down at the corner, but she shrugged and swayed off the bridge.

“We’re going to have a talk,” Rowan said to Asher. “About what the hell you’re up to.”

Asher shifted uncomfortably. “It got him back to his planet,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “It’s what he wanted.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs.

In disbelief, Ren watched Asher leave.

“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but I think Asher just manipulated a high-ranking military official to make sure you get to go back home.”

Ren’s mouth went dry.

“I think he manipulated me, too,” Rowan said, smiling softly. “Brothers, huh?”

Ren took a long moment to answer. “Thank you, Captain.” His body trembled, and he didn’t have the strength to move from the wall. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, string bean. We’ll figure it out.” She tapped her fingertips against her mouth. “We’ll have to. I need to talk to Lucas.” She mustered a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. On her way out, she ruffled Ren’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”

Ren was certain she said it more for her own benefit than his. But it was a nice sentiment. They’d figure it out. In the meantime, he was going home. He was going home.

The thought was a bright spot amid the dark, and Ren clung to it.

* * *

Ren drifted from the bridge to his room to engineering and finally found himself in the cargo bay.

Millicent was not there but Ollie was. He glanced up from where he moved crates around; his brown eyes glinted under the naked light that hung above the expansive room. Ollie’s muscles flexed under his brown skin as he dragged a heavy cargo box across the floor. The sound of scraping was loud and harsh, until he paused near where Millicent kept her rug.

Ollie beckoned to Ren. “Hey, Ren. Got this box in a trade. Might be of interest.”

Ren didn’t think it would be, but Ollie was the first person to interact with Ren since the conversation on the bridge. Ren needed companionship. Maybe it would take the focus off the thoughts in his head and the whispers of the ship around him.

Ren descended the stairs and stood by the crate.

Using a crowbar, Ollie popped off the lid; the wood clattered to the floor. A cloud of dust floated up, and Ren coughed and waved it out of his face.

“Did you know when you traded for it that it was full of junk?”

Ollie shrugged but didn’t answer. He sifted through the parts and pieces of broken tech as Ren peered over his massive shoulder.

Ollie straightened and clapped his hands together to brush off the sawdust.

“Go on then,” Ollie said, gesturing at the broken bits of circuitry.

“Go on what?”

“To practice. Figured you and Millie might want a few objects to mess with other than Pen’s mixer.”

Ren swayed closer to the mess.

“So you did know what it was.”

Ollie’s smile was small but it was there.

“If you got these back on Mykonos, why wait so long to share them?”

Ollie shrugged again; his mouth straightened into a flat line. “You want them or not? If you can fix them, we can turn them around and sell them for a profit.”

Ren thought he should stop questioning motives and take the gesture for what it was: a gift of distraction, born out of concern and thoughtfulness.

Ren pulled out a few circuit boards. “Thanks, Ollie.”

“No problem, Ren. Anything to help.”

Ren clutched the circuitry to his chest. The metal and wire caught on the fabric of his shirt and bit into the skin of his hands. “No, really,” he said, throat tight. “I appreciate it.”

Ollie dropped a large hand on Ren’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re welcome, Ren. I know things may seem like dirt right now, but ride it out and you’ll be fine. You’ll never be lost as long as you look to the stars.”

Ren nodded. “Did you learn that in all your years of traversing the cluster?”

Ollie laughed. “No. I read it in a book of maps Lucas had. Doesn’t mean it’s not true though.”

“I’m not so sure, Ollie. Looking at the stars only made me lonelier and more lost.”

“Maybe you weren’t looking at the right angle.”

Ren toed at the corner of the box; his boot broke off a splinter.

Ollie crossed the bay to move another crate. “Back to work for me,” he said, as he picked up his clipboard. “I need to prepare if we’re going to pull off what Rowan wants. Apparently, her reputation is at stake.” He grinned.

“Yeah, I’m… going to go work on these.”

“Come back and get more when you’re finished.”

“All right.”

Ollie waved over his shoulder as Ren ascended the stairs to the main part of the ship. He made his way to the common room, which was blessedly empty.

Settling on the end of the couch, Ren picked up the first of the boards and lost himself in work.

* * *

Ren was still there when time for the midday meal rolled around. Penelope was the first to breeze in and she gave Ren a light tap on his outstretched leg as she passed to begin fixing lunch. Asher was next, and Ren pretended to be busy with the circuit board, even though he had fixed it and its partner in about twenty minutes. He fiddled with the circuits; his eyes glowed blue. Asher stared at him but Ren ignored it.

Penelope engaged Asher in light conversation. She whipped up a quick midday meal. When she finished, she alerted everyone via shipwide comm. As Ren fiddled, the crew members shuffled in and sat in their usual places around the large table. A plate of sandwiches made with meat spread sat in the middle beside a bowl of a congealed noodles with vegetables. It was obvious their fresh supplies had run out.

Ren’s stomach turned at the thought of trying to eat anything. No one else seemed fazed.

“Not joining us, Ren?” Rowan asked as she bit into her sandwich.

Ren shook his head and kept his lips together in a firm line. Much to his relief, Rowan didn’t press. Instead, she leveled her gaze at Jakob.

“Have you heard the news?” she asked.

Jakob looked over his shoulder and then at the group. “Me?” he asked, pointing to his chest.

Rowan nodded.

“What news? Ren, what’s she talking about?”

Ren bit his lip.

“Asher, you tell them,” Rowan said, saving Ren from having to participate. He was grateful for that and uncertain how to report that his captors had granted him a small reprieve.

Asher snapped his head and stopped pushing his food around on his plate. He straightened, tugged at the collar of his uniform, and brushed out imaginary wrinkles.

“General VanMeerten has granted the request.” He pulled his shoulders back. Ren wanted to scoff at Asher’s transformation from friend to lapdog soldier. “To take you back to Erden.”

Jakob sat stunned. “We’re going back?” he asked, dropping his spoon on his plate. “You’re not joking? Are you? Because that would be cruel, Ash. Very cruel.”

“It’s not a joke. We’re going to Erden.”

Seeing the smile that broke over Jakob’s face was like watching the morning sun crest the horizon and throw sparkles on the lake. He bent his head, smiled at his plate, then glanced up and fidgeted. He picked up his bread and set it down. His cheeks flushed, and he laughed while rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Ren had never seen Jakob so excited he did not know what to do with his limbs. It was endearing.

“Did you hear, Ren? We’re going home.” The tone of awe was also new.

Ren nodded and forced a smile. “We are.”

“I… I… thank you,” he said to Asher. “Thank you. I don’t know how you convinced her, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Ren for threatening the Phoenix Corps and nearly getting himself thrown into the prison near Perilous Space.”

Jakob’s joy tempered. “You did what?” he asked quietly. “Ren, what?”

“I reminded VanMeerten what I’m capable of,” Ren said, lifting one shoulder in an awkward shrug. He set the circuits aside and threaded his fingers.

Jakob pointed his finger at Ren. “I said ask, not threaten. Are you addled? Stars, Ren, all they need is a reason.”

Ren crossed his arms. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am happy. But you didn’t need to poke a beehive.”

“What’s a beehive?” Lucas asked, coming into the room. He gave Penelope a kiss, then took his seat at the table.

“Seriously?” Jakob asked.

Lucas plopped a large serving of the noodles on his plate. They splattered and oozed into an unappetizing puddle. “What? Is it a duster thing?”

“Yes, it’s a duster thing.” Jakob rolled his eyes and shared a look with Ren that conveyed his disbelief.

“Oh, I saw that,” Lucas said. “I grew up in space, okay? I don’t understand the flora and fauna of your dirt.”

“I’m not even going to respond. There’s so much wrong with that,” Jakob said.

Ren smiled, but he stayed on his perch on the couch. No one seemed to notice that he was not joining in, or if they did, they didn’t comment.

“Mill,” Jakob said, “can you believe it? We’re going home.”

Millicent blinked her large eyes. “Home?” she asked.

“Yeah, to Erden. Ren… convinced them. Isn’t that great?”

“Oh, yes. I was there. I heard.” She took a bite of her bread. “But Erden isn’t my home.”

Everyone froze. Jakob cocked his head and tapped his fork against his plate in a nervous rhythm. He shot a look to Ren. Ren frowned, as confused as everyone else. Millicent didn’t talk much of her past before they’d met her on Mykonos. All Ren knew was she had grown up with the knowledge of what she was.

Asher leaned forward. “What do you mean? You were in the cell next to mine.”

“Yes,” she said. She took a bite from her sandwich and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She folded it. “I was in the cell next to yours, but I was brought there.” Millicent didn’t seem to notice how the crew hung on every word. She didn’t notice that Rowan stared and Asher clutched his fork so tightly it was beginning to bend. “I’m from the planet Crei.”

“How are we just learning about this?” Rowan demanded.

Millicent’s hazel eyes were wide and her face was pale. “No one has asked.”

“Then how in the hell did you end up on Erden with Asher?”

She sighed. “Because that is where Abiathar took me after he found me and offered me the chance to leave my planet and travel if I helped him. He promised me a prominent place among the drifts if I would use my gift in his service.”

After a moment of thick silence, of disbelief, Ren’s stomach dropped.

“You enlisted?” Jakob shouted. “You agreed to help that cog?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, voice never wavering. “He said he’d take me away from the factories and the smoke and the pollution and bring me to the stars. How could I say no?”

Jakob’s jaw dropped. “Ren, are you hearing this?”

“Yes,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Jakob jumped to his feet, sending his chair skidding behind him. “Doesn’t matter? Our village was destroyed. Our families are gone. Sorcha is gone. And she played a part.” He pointed a shaking finger at Millicent.

Ren placed his hands in his lap and tried to sort through his thoughts and feelings. He took a breath. “I know, Jakob. I’m sorry.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Jakob slammed his fist on the table; his plate clattered, and the water in his cup sloshed. He heaved a few breaths, and his body shook; the rest of the group stared in awkward and sympathetic silence.

“I need air,” Jakob choked on the words. He stalked out.

No one moved except Millicent, who took a bite of her sandwich unperturbed.

Rowan cleared her throat. “I think the bigger issue here is: What the stars was that insane old man doing on Crei in the first place?”

“Looking for star hosts,” Lucas said. “And finding them, obviously.” He jerked his chin toward Millicent, and his goggles slid crooked.

Millicent continued to eat her lunch.

“Or,” Asher said, “the threat against the drifts is bigger than we thought.”

“I’m sorry,” Pen said softly, “But please explain. I don’t understand.”

Asher dropped his bent fork. With his elbows on the table, he tented his fingers and leaned forward. “What if it’s more than one crazy despotic Baron on a backward planet? What if it’s two planets, or three, conspiring against the drifts? What if it’s Erden and Crei and Stahl and more? What if Baron Vos was only the first?”

“That’s a lot of ifs, Ash,” Rowan said. “And it’s not what we need to concentrate on right now. Because of this decision by the Corps, we’re not going to be able to finish our cargo run.”

“What are we going to do?” Pen asked.

“I’ve already asked Ollie to arrange the cargo as needed for an in-transit pick-up. And I’ve asked Lucas to find a friendly along our route.” She leveled her gaze at Lucas.

He fidgeted, pushed his goggles onto the crown of his head from where they had slipped down to his brow. The strap caught in his red hair and left a strand standing on end.

“Yeah, about that.”

“Yes?”

“We really only have one choice.” He squirmed. “It’s Hatfield.”

The protests were loud, and Ren shrank back, startled at the vehemence not only from Ollie and Asher, but from Penelope as well.

“Do you not remember what happened last time?” Ollie spat. “They tried to pull us into an ancient feud they had with another trading family. We were shot at.”

“By both families,” Penelope added.

“In a crossfire.”

“I was dressing pulse gun grazes for weeks.”

Lucas threw up his hands. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t make a cargo ship appear from nowhere. And they are nearby, within a day if they stuck to their submitted schedule and route.”

Ren zoned out as they argued. Maybe Lucas couldn’t make a cargo ship appear, but Ren could transport the Star Stream across the cluster. He’d done it before. It would take concentration and tapping into the well of his power, but he could do it. It would help Rowan, too, and she had given up so much for him. He could repay her.

“I could do it,” he said, interrupting.

The group turned to look at him. Asher’s gaze swept over Ren.

“Do what?”

“Transport us. To the drift. I’ve done it before.”

Asher’s response was quick. “No.”

“Absolutely not,” Rowan agreed.

Ren jutted out his chin. “I could do it. I’m powerful enough.”

Asher planted his palms on the table next to his plate, and his chest heaved. “You’ve done it once under extreme duress. And even then you didn’t know when you did it, how you did it, and where you transported us. It wiped you out for days. And do you honestly think you’re in control enough to do it? If you think for one moment I will allow you to endanger the crew or yourself then you have absolutely gone as crazy as the Corps believes.”

In a long moment of silence Ren’s insides twisted in confusion and frustration.

“I think what Asher is trying to say,” Penelope said, “is let’s try meeting with the Hatfields first, and if that fails, we’ll try… star-powered transporting.”

Ren nodded. “Fine.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Rowan said, with the finality of a captain. “We’ll meet with the Hatfields tomorrow, transfer the cargo, and head to Erden.” She took a bite of her food. “It’ll be easy. I’m certain of it.”

No one else was convinced.

4

In fact, it wasn’t easy.

Maybe Lucas was the best pilot in the cluster, if everyone on the Star Stream was to be believed, but maneuvering to seal with another ship was difficult even for him. And Ren was forbidden to assist, as was Millicent. Asher was wary their powers may give them away and cause more stress in an already stressful situation.

So Ren waited impotently on the walk above the cargo bay while Ollie and Asher readied the crates. The twin thunks of towing cables hitting the hull triggered the memory of the Star Stream under attack by Abiathar. Ren clutched the railing and willed his fear to stay in check while he endured every scrape of metal against metal and every jolt and shudder as the ships bumped into position. It was difficult. He’d been connected to the ship since the moment they’d departed Mykonos and he could feel the distress of metal in his throat and the groan of the systems in his bones.

Ren’s power itched inside of him, right in the middle of his chest, and he clenched down on it and drew it in instead of allowing it to flow out.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Millicent’s voice startled him, and he gritted his teeth as she drifted toward him. “Your face is scrunched.”

“I’m doing what Asher asked.” Ren’s grip tightened on the railing. Sweat beaded along his hairline.

“You’ve been in the systems too long. Pulling back will be almost impossible.”

“I can do it.”

“I don’t understand why you need to.” She placed her hand on Ren’s forearm, where the muscles strained beneath the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. “You’re only hurting yourself when you could be helping.”

“According to Asher, this is helping.”

Millicent blinked. “He doesn’t understand that holding back is more dangerous than letting go. He isn’t one of us.”

That was… true. Asher didn’t understand the nuances of power or its terrible sweetness.

“He’s trying to protect you again, but he can’t protect you from what you are,” Millicent continued.

Ren closed his eyes and relaxed just a bit; his shoulders dropped from near his ears. Spurred by Millicent’s power, his star traveled down the length of his body, searching for a destination. Ren was only the conduit. The Star Stream’s systems were home and welcomed him with open circuits as his power poured into them. He found solace in the video feeds and, even with his eyes closed, he could see the whole cargo bay and observe as Asher and Ollie talked. He could see his own tall, willowy body and shaggy brown hair, and noted that his face was relaxed as if he were asleep. Compared to Millicent’s small frame and pale skin, Ren looked alien.

“There you go,” Millicent said. “See? That feels better, doesn’t it?”

Ren nodded. Yes, this was good. Millicent was right. She was always in control, and Ren should learn from her, learn to wield his gift to help others instead of being in constant fear of it.

The ship vibrated under Ren’s feet, and instantly he was at the aft airlock and in the comm system. He listened as the Hatfield crew talked with Lucas and, after a wrenching sound, confirmed they were in position. Ren eased along the docking apparatus and coaxed it out of the Star Stream’s outer pocket until it met with the extension from the Family Honor. He monitored the seal and the pressurization of the resulting tunnel, ensuring everything was safe.

Though there was no video in the access tunnel, there was audio, and, through the connection, Ren snuck into the systems of the Family Honor. He scrolled through the crew manifest—fifteen hands, all family if the names were any indication, led by Captain Anse. He browsed their video feeds and found their cargo area, noting the four crew members who stood near their airlock, waiting for the go-ahead to venture across. Three were men, dressed in clothes Ren thought were more duster than spacer, all with shocking red hair. A woman was the point, and her posture reminded Ren of Rowan as she stood with her arms crossed and her back straight. She wore a tool belt and had goggles on her straight red hair and a pulse gun strapped to her leg. In fact, they all had weapons. They each carried at least one gun, and two of the men had electric staffs that reminded Ren of the prods back on Erden.

Tuning into their comms, whose static rendered them almost useless, he heard most of their conversation.

“Are you sure about this, Rosie?”

“Yes. Rowan Morgan is no pirate. She’s not going to do us wrong.”

“What if they’re cross about last time?”

“Then they wouldn’t have contacted us.”

“Wonder what was so coggin’ important that they have to relinquish their cargo in the middle of a run?”

Rosie shook her head and shifted. “Didn’t say much. An emergency with one of their crew.”

Ren crackled.

“Be on your guard, though,” she continued. “I may trust Rowan, but who knows what is going to be on the other side of this walk.”

“And if it goes south?”

“Protect yourself. Kill who you have to. Take the cargo.”

“Maybe we should do that anyway.” Ren zeroed in on the speaker—a tall man with freckles across his nose, a tattoo on his neck, and half an ear. “Forget the niceties.”

Rosie smirked. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

The group laughed.

Ren snapped back into his body. He staggered backward, released the railing, and almost fell on his backside. While he’d drifted, Millicent had wandered away, and Rowan had joined Asher and Ollie on the bay floor. She had her weapon, but the other two were unarmed.

They were unarmed.

Ren jolted upright, gathered his shaky legs under himself, and stumbled down the metal steps.

“Don’t let them come aboard,” Ren shouted as he tripped his way to the trio. “They’re armed. They want the cargo. Why don’t you have weapons?”

“Ren? Are you okay?” Ollie asked, grabbing Ren’s arm as he barreled into their group. “What are you talking about?”

“The Hatfields are armed to the teeth. They were talking about killing you and taking the cargo.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shot up, but Asher’s expression turned dark.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

Ren shook off Ollie’s grip. “I heard them.”

“By using your power after I specifically said to stay out of the way and out of trouble. I told you that you were not to do anything to add stress to this situation.”

Ren clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes. He was not going to be scolded like a naughty child for trying to protect his friends. “Are you seriously lecturing me when I’m trying to warn you? The Hatfields are dangerous.”

“We know, Ren,” Rowan said, voice quiet but harsh. “We aren’t going into this blind.”

“But, they said—”

Asher sighed, cutting him off. “Look, there is trade etiquette going on here your little duster self doesn’t understand, which is why I didn’t want you here. Not to mention your erratic behavior the last few weeks. We don’t need you spouting accusations at people we’re trying to do business with.”

“Hey, guys,” Lucas’s voice came over the shipwide comm. “They’re approaching. Be ready to open the airlock.”

Rowan nodded toward Ollie, who left the group after a worried glance cast Ren’s way.

“Go sit down on the stairs, Ren,” Rowan said, and it was an order, not a suggestion.

Ren took a step back. “But—”

“Go. Or are you disobeying a direct order from your captain?”

Ren slunk away, head down, shoulders hunched. His stomach churned. He knew what he’d heard, but what if he had misunderstood? Rowan was confident. Ollie was intimidating by merely standing there; his bulky form was heads taller than most men. And Asher had military experience. He wouldn’t allow Rowan to walk into a dangerous situation.

Ren sighed as he settled on the stairs. Ren spotted Jakob and Penelope on the overhead walkway, overlooking the proceedings. Jakob had a pulse gun in the crook of his arm, and Penelope had a small gun peeking from her tool belt. Ren winced when he realized the rest of the crew had had a plan all along.

One they hadn’t shared with him.

Ollie opened the airlock, and the seal hissed as the group from the Hatfield ship walked into the bay. They paused on the other side of the threshold. Rosie was in front as the three men fanned out behind her.

Ren focused on the man who had joked about foregoing niceties and taking their cargo. The man observed Ollie, sizing him up, as Ollie resealed the door. His eyes twitched, and his mouth set in a frown. And he held his body in a way which suggested a familiarity with these types of situations. He was dangerous. Ren saw it in the missing piece of his ear, the tattoo of a wildcat on his neck, the nicked body armor, and the ease of his steps. Ren’s chest burned.

“Rosie Hatfield,” Rowan said, with a forced smile. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, Rowan Morgan.” Her smiled wasn’t overly friendly; the corners of her mouth barely lifted. “Long time, no see.”

“I trust your father was able to confirm the information with the recipient.” Rowan wasn’t one for small talk, but was always to the point, especially when it pertained to business.

Rosie took stock of the hold. Her gaze stopped on Ren before raking across Jakob and Penelope.

“Yes. We’ll give you ten percent of the take.”

Rowan arched an eyebrow. “Ten percent? That’s ridiculous. My crew brokered the deal. My ship has taken it over halfway. Ten percent is robbery.” The atmosphere grew tense. Asher shifted. Ollie moved to stand behind Rowan.

Rosie controlled her expression to look bored, but her gaze flicked to the suspended walk and back. “And?”

“Sixty percent,” Rowan countered, hands on her hips.

“Now who is being ridiculous? Twenty.”

“Forty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Thirty.”

Rosie rolled her eyes, then checked over her shoulder and held a silent conversation with the guy with the tattoo.

Were negotiations niceties? Ren sat up straighter and watched the exchange, on alert.

Rosie turned back. “Fine.”

She held out her hand, and Rowan took it. The handshake sealed the deal.

“Pleasure doing business.”

“Likewise.” Rose jerked her head toward the crates laid out in front of Asher. “My brothers will be taking those.” The three large men moved, but Rowan held up her hand.

“The thirty percent first, please.”

Rosie frowned. Her fingers danced along the holster at her side. “Thirty upon delivery.”

“No, thirty now. I wasn’t born yesterday, Rosie. Credits now, then cargo.”

Rosie twisted her lips, but she reached into her pocket and pulled out a chip. She held it between two of her fingers. “This chip has twenty-five percent on it. Take this now or thirty upon delivery.”

Rowan tapped her foot. She brushed her blond braid over her shoulder. “Are you crunching me?”

Shrugging, Rosie spun the credit chip between her fingers. “This is what I got, Rowan. Take it or leave it.”

Rowan placed her hands on her hips. “Save me from cutthroats,” she muttered. “Fine, we’ll take it. But I’ll remember this.”

Rosie’s smile grew, but it wasn’t friendly. “I’m sure you will.”

She tossed Rowan the chip, and Rowan handed it to Asher, who checked it in the reader. He nodded.

Rosie gestured, and her family stepped forward to gather the crates. The brother approached Ollie. He laughed at an untold joke and pushed Ollie’s shoulder, roughly. It was too friendly and too aggressive, with his mouth twisted into a smile or a snarl, Ren couldn’t tell. He touched Ollie again, on the arm, and his grease-stained fingers wrapped over Ollie’s bicep, his nails making indents in Ollie’s brown flesh.

Ren’s heart sped up.

Then the Hatfield brother’s other hand fluttered near his side, and his fingers brushed over the grip of his pulse gun. Ren trembled with fear.

He shot to his feet. Static filled his head. His vision flickered blue. Ren’s limbs jerked as he crossed the space. His muscles were taut, his eyes were ablaze, and he raised his hand, fingers splayed.

The star poured from his fingertips and burst from his body in a pulse of blue light. For one chilling second, everything went still. Time slowed to a crawl as the wave of power engulfed the room.

Their weapons were easy. He broke them with a thought, all of them—snapped the mechanisms in the pulse guns’ triggers and burned the wires in the prods. He even shorted their comms, keeping them from contacting support. No. They weren’t going to hurt this crew—his friends, his family.

Ren stalked forward with electricity sparking between his fingers. One of the intruders pulled his inert weapon and, with twisted pleasure, Ren disassembled it. The mechanisms fell like snow to the deck plate, where they pinged. The invading group scrambled back, yelling, screaming, and Ren smiled.

Let them be scared. Let them run. Let them be terrified. They were bullies—cutthroats as Rowan said. They were dangerous. They didn’t belong on the ship.

Ren opened the airlock. The metal door banged open, and the Hatfields lunged for it. With his senses tangled in the systems, Ren could hear the conversation through the comms.

“What is he?” Rosie yelled. “What the stars is happening, Rowan?”

“Ren!” In the vid feeds, Ren saw Asher step into his path. The pressure of Asher’s hands on Ren’s shoulders was negligible. His voice stirred nothing.

“Stop him, Ash.”

“Ren, listen to my voice. Listen to me. They’re not trying to hurt us.”

Ren tilted his head. “Forget the niceties.”

“That was a joke!” The voice cracked with fear. “I swear. It was a joke.”

Ren was in the Star Stream. He was in the airlock and in the tunnel. He was in the Family Honor. He was spread between the two ships, in every system, in every nook, and he could do anything.

“We’re leaving. Keep the cargo and the chip.”

“No!” Asher held out a hand. “Stay put. Don’t go in the tunnel.”

“Snap him out of it, Ash!”

“Ren! Move out of the way, Pen. I can help!”

Rowan pointed a finger toward the walkway. “Stay where you are, Jakob.”

“Ren, listen to my voice. Listen to me. Come on.” Asher was close, filling Ren’s blue vision. His grip was tight on Ren’s body, though his touch was distant. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

Ren paused. The question didn’t make sense. He couldn’t answer it. Why was Asher assisting the people who wanted to hurt them? He’d kept them from entering the tunnel where Ren could’ve vented them, but no matter. They threatened Ren’s family. He could threaten theirs.

“The Family Honor is sealed. Crew manifest shows fifteen hands.” He couldn’t vent them, not while they were connected to the Star Stream. He’d have to kill them another way. “Preparing to disable life support systems.”

“Ash! Stop him!”

“I can’t!”

Rowan’s voice was a shriek. Asher pushed on Ren’s corporeal body as paradoxes fell from his lips. The questions made Ren twitch and flinch and stalled him from continuing with his plans. They were annoying, like a vibration, a sticky cog in a machine. Ren pulled his attention from the ships and fixated on Asher.

His shoulder was tech, metal fused with bone. Ren pushed into it and rendered the apparatus inert, and the arm fell useless to Asher’s side. Asher staggered back; his eyes were wide, and his hand clutched his unusable bicep.

“Ren,” he whispered, confused, hurt, and afraid.

And then Ollie arrived in front of him.

“Sorry, friend,” Ollie said. He pulled back his fist, and Ren didn’t duck.

His head snapped around, and his vision flickered from blue to normal to spotted black. His jaw ached, and tears gathered in his eyes. Ren’s knees went weak, and he fell to the floor like a rag doll.

“Can a man drown in the fountain of youth?”

Ren cradled his jaw in his hand. “Paradox,” he slurred.

“He’s fine,” Ollie called. “Everything is fine.”

Ren wasn’t sure about that. His body was limp against the deck, and his face hurt. He closed his eyes and allowed the exhaustion and the force of Ollie’s blow pull him into darkness.

* * *

Ren woke to an argument. He was on the couch in the common room, of that much he was certain: for one, it smelled a bit, and two, a spring dug into Ren’s back just enough to be truly uncomfortable. He didn’t move, however, because his head swam and his face throbbed. Feigning sleep seemed a good choice, especially since there was yelling.

Rowan’s voice bounced off the metal walls, almost drowning out her steps as she paced. “Stars, Ash! When were you going to tell me that Ren has gone completely around the bend?”

“Rowan,” Ash said, sounding pained. “Can we not go into that right now?”

“Are you coggin’ kidding me? We can and we will. Did you not see him attack the Hatfields? And they were friendlies!”

“They were armed,” Asher replied. He sounded weary and troubled.

“And,” Ollie’s voice came from the other side of the room, “that one guy did push me, and his hand touched his pulse gun. Ren was only protecting us.”

“That doesn’t matter. He went supernova again, and almost cost us the cargo, the credits, and my reputation, not to mention he almost killed people!”

There was a scrape of a chair sliding across the floor. “I know. All right? I know.”

“Why the hell couldn’t you pull him out of it? Why didn’t your voice or the questions work? For stars’ sake, why didn’t you kiss him?”

Ren’s throat went tight. “Because I’m not his anchor anymore. We’re not… he’s not… he doesn’t trust me.”

Rowan stopped. Ren pictured her sinking into her chair at the head of the table. “We need to take precautions. He doesn’t sleep alone anymore in case he tries to access the ship in his nightmares. And no more using his power. If we need a fix, we have Millicent on board.” Rowan paused. “Where the hell was she when this all happened anyway? Couldn’t she have pushed Ren out? She’s done that before.”

“Probably hiding from Jakob. They’re not friends at the moment.”

“Cogs,” Rowan breathed. “Am I running a ship full of actual children?”

“It’s going to be all right, Cap,” Ollie said. His boots were heavy as he crossed the room. “I’ll move the hammock into Ren’s bunk. Jakob and I will switch off. We’re only a few days out from Erden. We’ll manage.”

“I hope so. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Ren included. He’s a kid, and I know he’s doing the best he can. It’s… well, it’s hard to reconcile the thing that can disable weapons and vent a ship with the duster asleep on the couch.”

Ren’s eyes stung. His insides twisted with guilt and anger and sorrow. He needed to leave the ship. He needed to get home, so he would stop putting everyone in danger.

Ollie left the room and his steps retreated down the hall, presumably to move the hammock.

Rowan spoke, voice low. “How’s your arm?”

“Hurts,” Asher replied.

“I figured that, moron. Can it be fixed?”

Asher sighed. “I think so. Ren could. Millicent maybe, too.”

Ren bit his lip to keep from begging Asher to ask him and not Millicent. He’d fix it. He broke it, he hurt Asher, and he’d do anything to take that back. Just because Ren couldn’t rely on Asher any longer didn’t mean he wanted Asher to be in pain. He wanted Asher to have everything, everything Ren couldn’t give him, and that was one of the reasons Ren had to leave.

“Be careful,” Rowan said.

“I will.”

“What are we going to do when he wakes up?”

There was a rustle and the creak of a chair. “We’re going to move on. We’re going to take him back to his planet and hope being away from the ship helps him.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we figure out another way for him to be safe. For us to be safe.”

“Even if it means he goes to the Perilous Space prison?”

Ren’s heart clenched as icy fingers of fear wrapped around it and squeezed. He stiffened and begged his body to keep from trembling and giving himself away.

“We’ll do what we have to.”

And just like that, Ren knew once he set foot on Erden, he would not be returning with the crew to the Star Stream.

5

He was by the lake. His toes sank into the warm sand; the water nipped at his skin. He leaned back on his elbows. The stars twinkled above him. He wasn’t afraid. Ren inhaled the scent of the water and of the fresh green trees behind him.

“I’m not here, you know.”

Ren sat up and craned his neck to look over his shoulder at his younger brother. Liam stood behind him with his hands in his pockets, dressed the same as the day Ren was taken from their home.

“Liam?”

Liam stepped forward, moving like a ghost with his feet barely skimming the ground. His skin and hair were paler than Ren remembered, his freckles were barely discernible in the light, and the red of his hair not as bright: It seemed washed out.

Liam peered out over the water.

“Why always here?”

“What?”

“You always dream you are at this dumb lake. You’ve been all over now—drifts and ships—and you come to this place. Why?”

Ren followed Liam’s gaze and watched the lake. In the dark, it was endlessly black; the rhythm of the waves was a living, shifting thing, terrifying and comforting at once.

“Because it’s home, I guess.”

Liam shook his head. “Then dream about the house. Or the village.”

“Because it’s the last place I saw you.”

Liam stared at Ren, and his gaze seemed to pierce Ren to the marrow. Ren hunched in, pulled his knees to his chest, and protected his core.

“I’m not here.”

“I know, Liam,” Ren snapped. “I don’t expect you to be hanging out on the beach when we land on Erden. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to look. I’m going to look for you and find you.”

Liam frowned. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head.

The water inched closer as the waves, increasing in intensity, slapped against the shore.

“You need to leave before she pulls you in.”

Liam nodded toward the lake to point out how the icy water spilled over Ren’s ankles and climbed up his skin to his knees.

Ren jumped to his feet, but the lake was sentient, and the water became fingers, gripping his legs, yanking him down. He fell to his knees, and the water surged to his waist, then his shoulders.

“Liam,” Ren gasped. “Help.”

“I’m not here.” Liam said. He stepped away. His figure shimmered, and then he faded.

Ren struggled against the water, but it was viscous and stifling, squeezing around his chest, leeching up his neck, to his chin, to his mouth—

“Wake up!”

Ren sat up gasping. Jakob sat on the edge of his bunk. His hands were heavy on Ren’s shoulders; his hair was mussed, and his eyes were wide.

“Did I… have I…?”

“No,” Jakob shook his head. “No. You’re okay.” Jakob’s reassurances and smile were brittle. His face was pale; his expression was a thin veneer of calm over panic.

“I was on Erden, and Liam was there at the lake and he kept saying he wasn’t there. But he was and…” Ren pushed a hand into his hair and gripped it and breathed.

“It was a dream. Only a dream, Ren.”

“I… I’m not sure. Jakob, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Ren grabbed Jakob’s sleep shirt and twined his fingers in the fabric.

Jakob’s cheeks were sleep-pink, and he had a crease across his face from the pillow. He sighed and patted Ren’s hand. His touch eased the tension in Ren’s grip.

“We’ll get you home, Ren. And you’ll be better. It’s not much farther.”

Ren nodded. He eased his fingers open, releasing Jakob. “Okay.”

“We’re going home, Ren. Aren’t you happy?”

Ren didn’t know what he was, but he wouldn’t describe it as happy. He shrugged. “I don’t know what we’ll find.”

Jakob nodded; the corners of his mouth were turned down. “I don’t either. But we’ll look for our families. We’ll look for Sorcha. And we won’t have to be on this ship any longer.” Jakob offered a hesitant smile. Ren didn’t speak as the feelings from the dream were clinging to his waking thoughts.

“Are you going back to sleep?” Jakob asked.

“No. No, I’ll stay up for a while.”

“Is it okay if I sleep in your bed? The hammock is uncomfortable.” Jakob made a face.

Ren supposed it was meant to lighten the mood. It didn’t, but Ren appreciated the effort. “Sure.” He stood, his legs wobbly, and crossed the room. He hoisted himself into the hammock while Jakob scrambled into Ren’s bunk and flopped across the mattress with a groan. It was only a few minutes until Jakob’s breaths evened out in sleep.

Ren stayed in the hammock with his feet dangling over the side. They would land on Erden in a few hours.

Ever since the incident with the Hatfields, there was always a member of the crew with him, especially when he slept. The presence of another person made it difficult for Ren to sleep, to think, to do anything knowing someone was watching him. The room was cramped. Jakob talked in his sleep, and Ollie snored, but as much as Ren hated being treated as if he couldn’t take care of himself, he knew it was necessary.

Ren’s sleep schedule had been erratic at best the last few days. He lost track of ship’s time, and if it wasn’t for his shadows, usually in the form of Jakob and Ollie, Ren would’ve wandered the ship at all hours.

As it was now, he couldn’t sleep. He gave up lying in the hammock and went into the en-suite bathroom. The bruise on his jaw from Ollie’s punch was deep blue, and, at times, he could see Ollie stare at it. Ren needed to talk to him, to thank Ollie for pulling him from the ships.

Ren stumbled to the cargo bay to find him before he remembered Ollie probably wouldn’t be there, but would be tucked safe in his own room.

Finding Millicent’s rug, Ren folded down onto it and sat cross-legged.

Despite being ordered not to access his power, Ren pressed his fingertips to the hull, took a breath, and closed his eyes. The ship hummed around him, and he meandered through the systems. He peered through the sensors at the vastness of space. He sensed the signatures of a few other vessels along the route, and Ren catalogued their specs, their names, their registries. Once he had finished, he left the sensors, sat in the comms, and listened in on the other occupants of the ship.

Millicent was asleep, if the sound of her soft even breaths was any indication. Ollie snored in his room. Jakob muttered as he tossed and turned. Lucas and Pen shuffled a few times in their shared bed, whispered to each other, then went quiet.

Rowan was awake in her quarters muttering to herself over what must be financial reports.

Asher was also awake. On the bridge, he was flicking through news reports, reading, and studying. Ren focused on him through the video feeds.

Asher wore his sleep clothes, but he was wide awake, sipping coffee as he tapped away on his tablet. He wore a sling on his arm, and Ren sighed. He needed to fix that, too, both the shoulder and the relationship. Asher’s brow furrowed, and Ren saw the tight lines around Asher’s mouth, as if he were worried or in pain.

A lifetime ago Ren would have gone to Asher and sat with him. They would have joked, played a silly game, talked until the clock ticked into the morning hours and the rest of the crew woke.

Ren’s chest ached. His interactions with Asher since the incident had been exercises in avoidance on both their parts. At some future time, they would need to talk, but Ren didn’t know if he could handle what Asher had to say. Maybe it would be better once they arrived on Erden, and Ren was clear-headed. Until then, Ren would continue to make his presence scarce.

It was better that way.

* * *

A few hours later, Rowan announced over the shipwide comm that the Star Stream was approaching the planet and would begin the descent into atmo. Ren went to the bridge and stood in the corner, watching as the green and blue sphere became bigger on the screen. Jakob stood next to him and elbowed Ren in the side.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Jakob eyed him. “Perk up, Ren. We’re going home. We’re going to see our families and Sorcha, and everything will be okay. Aren’t you excited?”

It was the same speech Jakob had given only a few hours before, but this time, it wasn’t tempered by exhaustion. Jakob’s excitement was effusive. Ren was surprised that his own grin didn’t need too much forcing. “Yeah.”

Lucas didn’t have much experience with planet gravity, and the descent was less smooth than when he docked at a drift. But the ship survived, and soon they were resting in a space dock slip on the planet.

The group gathered at the aft door. Jakob vibrated with happiness and nerves; his smile broke over his face as the group gathered supplies. He stopped every few moments and tucked his face toward his arm. His excitement was palpable. Ren couldn’t begrudge him his happiness, but unease slipped between Ren’s ribs, prodded his insides.

“Everyone ready?” Rowan asked, standing near the door. She checked with Asher. He nodded, jaw clenched; his bag was looped over his uninjured shoulder.

Penelope clapped. “I can’t believe I’m going to be on a planet—unrecycled air and dirt. I’m going to touch dirt!”

Jakob looked at Penelope as though she was insane. He turned to Ren. “Listen to her. She thinks this is a vacation.”

“I’m only excited. I know this is serious.”

Ren remembered the first time he’d been on a ship and later on a drift. How excited he’d been despite the circumstances. He nudged Jakob’s shoulder. “Let her have her fun. No harm done.”

Jakob frowned, but nodded.

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Ollie asked. He wasn’t as excited as Penelope or, if he was, he hid it better. Calm and composed, he stood next to his sister.

“We’ll first travel to Ren and Jakob’s village and see what’s there and if there is anything we can do to help.” Addressing Jakob and Ren, she said, “I can’t promise anything. What we find will determine what happens next. My crew comes first and foremost. Understand?”

“We understand,” Ren spoke. He squeezed Jakob’s arm. “We won’t hold you to anything, Rowan. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us already.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“Lucas, I think you should stay behind. Millicent, you, too. Pen, we’ll need you if we find anyone in need of medical assistance. Ollie, your presence is always welcome.”

Millicent nodded. “I don’t want to go on the planet anyway. It’s not my home.”

Jakob bristled, and Ren shook his head.

“Um… I really don’t either. The thought of all that fresh air is terrifying. I’ll gladly stay on the ship.” Lucas wrapped an arm around Penelope’s waist and reeled her in for a quick kiss. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Asher should stay behind too,” Ren blurted.

Asher stiffened. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ren said. “You’re injured and…” He trailed off and gestured uselessly.

“And who is responsible for that?” Asher shot back.

Guilt flooded Ren. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can fix it.”

“If I wanted you to fix it, I would’ve asked.”

Ren clenched his jaw. He narrowed his eyes as guilt gave way to anger. “Well, I do seem to remember you saying my home planet was a backwater dirt hole. I doubt you want to experience it again.”

Asher tilted his head and swept his hot gaze over Ren. “Maybe you’re right.” He took a step forward. “I should stay where I’m actually wanted.”

“Good choice.”

They faced each other and stood chest to chest. Ren didn’t know how they’d moved so close, but they stared levelly, unflinching.

Rowan shouldered between them.

“Enough. Asher is coming. He’s the only one of us who has true military experience, and his knowledge of the planet may be useful.”

“Jakob and I know the planet, and Ollie should be force enough.”

“Are you questioning my orders, little one?”

Ren broke the staring contest and dropped his gaze. “No, Captain.”

“Good. I don’t care what’s going on between you two, but let me make myself clear. If either of you does something stupid because of a spat, I will not hesitate to drag your asses back to this ship and lock you in your rooms. Now, Ren, hurt or not, Asher is an asset, so he’s coming.” She turned to her brother; her finger pointed hard in his chest. “No Corps uniform. Go change. We’ll wait. And keep your disparaging comments about the planet to yourself. Clear?”

Asher glared at Ren. “Crystal,” he said. He turned and left.

Jakob gripped Ren’s shoulder; his fingers dug into the blade. He said into Ren’s ear, “You’re my friend, Ren. And I stand with you, no matter what. If we need to ditch this lot to do what we came here to do, we will.”

Ren patted Jakob’s hand. “Okay.”

“Are you ready for what we might find?”

Ren took a shuddering breath. “I have to be.”

“Yeah, I’m not either.”

Jakob dropped his hand when Asher returned. He had changed into civilian clothes but there was no hiding the bearing of a soldier. Beneath the nondescript jacket and shirt and trousers, Asher’s shoulders were broad, and his posture was straight. The air of confidence Ren had admired so many months ago emanated from him. He had a pulse gun strapped to his waist, a large knife attached to his outer thigh, and a bulging pack on his back.

“Ready?” Rowan asked.

Asher nodded.

She tugged her braid. “Good. Let’s go.”

She hit the switch, and the bay doors slowly opened to reveal the space dock. Ren could’ve cut the tension with a knife. When the doors stopped moving, the group stared out at an underwhelming scene.

“Oh,” Pen said, stepping out. “It’s not much different than a small drift. I was expecting it… to be more alien, honestly.”

Jakob rolled his eyes. “Idiots,” he said, brushing past the group with his boots thumping against the metal. “Follow me.”

It wasn’t the same dock Asher and Ren had departed from what seemed like centuries ago. This one, closer to the village, was where Ren had wished his mother would’ve allowed him to visit and find work. When Ren had lain on the beach at the lake and watched the ships fly through the sky, they had originated from this port. To the boy who dreamed of leaving Erden, this place would’ve been amazing. To Ren now, it was small, dingy, and poorly maintained. It confirmed every duster cliché he’d heard on the drifts.

Ashamed, Ren kept his head down as the crew, his friends, experienced such a lackluster introduction to his home planet.

Maneuvering through this space dock was about the same as it had been the last time Ren had been in one, but without the soldiers trying to capture him. Then, he’d been so exhausted his power had seeped out at every turn. This time, he wasn’t as tired, but his power, though not sparking randomly, did wash out of his fingers and the soles of his feet.

He could feel everything. He could see it all, and his consciousness spread out into the flooring, then crawled up the wall and into the systems. He could hear the chatter between the dock and the ships descending into atmo. He could feel the environmental controls, the lighting, the vid feeds, and the force fields in different sections. Everything whispered to him, invaded him, and he welcomed it as he strode through the dock with his consciousness filling up with the tech until it was all that remained inside of him. He slowed his pace, lingering, and his star flickered as the crew disappeared around the corner and out to the planet surface.

Ren ignored the calls of the tech, ignored the errors and breaks, and followed. Once he stepped through the double doors into the open air of Erden, the connection to the systems faded with each step he took. It stretched until it snapped, and Ren was wholly corporeal. The static cleared, the voices dimmed, and Ren saw the planet clearly. Sunlight broke through the heavy layer of clouds and illuminated the bleak landscape. Trees stood spindly and barren against the gray sky. When Ren breathed, he smelled the crisp, fresh snow, which fell in large flakes. His ears burned from the cold, and the tip of his nose went numb.

He saw the group and joined them. With his consciousness uncluttered, Ren could think freely for the first time in ages. His thoughts centered on the journey ahead.

“What is this stuff?” Pen said, stepping carefully through the white powder that covered the landscape. It gathered wetly on the toes of her boots. “And why is it so cold?” She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.

Ren scuffed his heel, revealing dirt under the thin white layer: snow. It had snowed. He’d been away so long he’d forgotten about the weather, the seasons. It had been early spring when he’d been captured, and, in his mind, the planet hadn’t changed. To him it had always been early spring on Erden. But the fresh layer of ice and slush told him otherwise.

It was a shock to realize his home had continued on without him. The planet had moved; the seasons had changed. His family would have changed, too, just as he had.

His breath hung in puffs of condensation, and the tips of his fingers started to freeze. He was glad he wore a jacket, and he tucked his hands under his arms, which were crossed over his skinny chest.

“It’s snow. And this isn’t so bad,” Jakob said. He tilted his face to the sky and took a deep breath. “It’ll get much colder once the sun sets.”

“We should get going,” Ren mumbled. The clouds were pregnant with the promise of more snow, and half their group wasn’t dressed for the cold—Ren included.

“Do you know the way?” Rowan asked, brushing flakes from her shoulders and hair. “And will we get there before this becomes any deeper?”

Jakob hefted the pack on his shoulders. “I know the way. It’s only about an hour on foot. We’ll be fine.”

“Ren?”

Ren held out his palm, and snow landed on his skin, then melted. How could he have forgotten it would be winter?

“Ren?”

He turned his hand over, staring at it. The tips of his fingers were pink; his fingernails were white. The nail on his ring finger was torn and jagged, and a bead of dried blood sat at the corner. When had that happened?

“Ren!” Rowan snapped.

He jerked, dropped his hand, and lifted his head. “Yes?”

The group stared at him. They all looked ridiculous in their drifter clothes with snow gathering in their hair and around their collars. Rowan’s nose was red already. Penelope’s brow furrowed as she kicked at the ground. Ollie shivered. And Asher…

Asher’s expression was haunted.

“Is Jakob right? We can walk there?”

“Oh,” Ren said. He nodded. “Yes. It’s not far.”

“Then lead the way, you two. Or do you want to stand here and freeze to death?”

Jakob brushed past Ren and took the front position. “It’s not that cold,” he muttered.

Ren fell in behind him, and the group trudged forward. Ren kept his focus on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find the familiar rhythm of walking on the planet’s surface, but he couldn’t shake the look on Asher’s face.

* * *

“I feel like I’ve gained a million pounds,” Penelope said as they walked. “I didn’t realize the gravity would be this different.”

“I’m cold,” Ollie responded. “How come no one mentioned it would be your cold season? And there might be… whatever this stuff is?”

“I’d forgotten,” Ren said.

It was the first thing he’d said in almost an hour. No one had spoken much, though Ollie and Penelope had a hero’s go at keeping up a conversation.

Rowan was tense. Her body was taut as a bowstring, and her hand was never too far from her pulse gun. Asher was alert too, but in a different way, as if one wrong move would catch him up in his memories of the planet and his own capture. Ren had forgotten that as well. Asher carried as much emotional baggage about being back here as Ren and Jakob did. He, too, was a victim of circumstance, of wrong-place, wrong-time.

Jakob’s long strides and fast pace were too much for those not dirt-born, and several times he had to slow down, stop, and wait as the drifters’ bodies adjusted. He wore his frustration like battle armor; his expression dared anyone to remark on the speed. No one did.

They weren’t far from the village now. The snow had tapered off as they walked and the sun sank lazily into the horizon.

Ren recognized the landscape: the forest on either side, the trees with names carved in the bark—a ritual for betrothed couples. A boundary rock marked the entrance to the village lands. Ren brushed away the snow to reveal the language of his ancestors.

“What does it say?” Rowan asked, studying the symbols.

“It’s a warning to anyone who wants to do harm to the village. And it is a spell for protection.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Those squiggly lines are all superstition?”

Ren stood and his shoulder knocked into hers. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t work anyway.” Leaving Rowan and her drifter arrogance behind, he caught up to the group,

Ren’s apprehension and excitement grew as they drew closer to the village. The snow had begun to blow again, harder than before. Everyone huddled in their coats except Jakob, who pushed the ankle-high snow out of the way with his determined stride. In front of them stood a small rise, and right over it would be the bowl that held the village.

Jakob plowed on, but Ren stopped at the bottom of the rise.

Asher ran into his back. “Ren?”

Ren swallowed hard. “It’s over the crest of the hill.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I… don’t know what we’ll find.”

“Hopefully shelter,” Ollie said, rubbing his arms.

Ren ignored him.

Rowan’s cold fingers encircled Ren’s wrist. “We’re with you.”

“I know.”

Jakob stopped at the top of the hill. His silhouette, backlit by the setting sun, was bathed in reds and golds. His shoulders slumped, and he dropped to his knees. The anguished cry he let out ripped through Ren. He ran forward, pushing Ollie and Rowan out of his way. He tripped once, slipping on the ice, so his hands skidded. The fall didn’t stop him. He scrambled, boots kicking up snow, until he could sink next to Jakob’s side.

Rubble spread out as far as he could see. A few buildings stood, but they listed under the weight of the snow. Ren wrapped his arms around Jakob’s shoulders, and Jakob clutched at him, burying his face in Ren’s neck. His body shook, and his hands clenched the fabric of Ren’s jacket.

Jakob howled. Ren didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think there was anything he could say. He had no comfort to offer. Grief and pain surged in his middle, and his star sparked, but there was nowhere for it to go. There was no tech to draw from, no machine to flee into, to hide from the emotions raging inside him.

He didn’t know the others stood beside them until Pen knelt behind him and wrapped her arms tight around them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice watery. “I’m so sorry.”

“We need to move,” Rowan said. “Let’s go down there and see what we can find. I know it’s tough, boys, but we’re not safe standing in the open on this hill.”

“On your feet,” Ollie said, gripping Ren’s upper arm and hauling him up. Asher and Penelope pulled Jakob to standing, but Ren gripped Jakob’s hand tight. Jakob rubbed at his cheeks. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bright with tears.

Ren didn’t cry. Tears had been wrung out of him months ago. But his body trembled, and his knees were weak as they walked down the other side of the hill and into the village. Ren and Jakob had grown up here. They knew every inch of road and path and maneuvered them easily despite the broken bricks and the detritus in their way.

“We should split up,” Ren said, his voice thick and scratchy. “Cover more ground.”

Ren didn’t mention that Jakob had grown up on the other side of the village from him. They could take stock separately, instead of slowing one another down. They had led such different lives in the same place. Because of their class differences, Ren wasn’t prepared to share his sorrow with the only person who could come close to understanding.

“Pen and Ollie go with Jakob. Asher and I will go with Ren. Meet in an hour by the big pile over there.” Rowan jerked her chin to what was once the town square and the mound of rubble which had been the council meeting place.

Jakob moved like a ghost; his once-brisk steps were slow and reluctant. His face had gone pale. The flush of anger and pain had been replaced with a sickly look. He seemed hollowed out, as if what had made him Jakob had been scooped away. Ren squeezed his hand in a gesture of companionship and then let go.

Ren had always been a dreamer, but since he’d been captured, been chased across the cluster, and merged with machines, he’d become pragmatic. Jakob had always held on to hope that the soldiers had been lying when he was told the village had been destroyed. After all, they had lied about blowing Ren out of the sky.

But Ren had known there was little hope. He hadn’t known what he would find when he walked over the hill, but it wouldn’t be good. He’d held no illusions about what he would find, but he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t confirmed what he’d been told.

Ren was reluctant to lead Rowan and Asher to his home on the outskirts of the village, where it was tucked away in a crescent-shaped copse. His determination to find out what happened to his family whipped away with the snow on the brisk wind.

He stopped in front of what was left and put his hands in his pockets, desperate for something to hold on to. The door of the house stood, and the frame was held up by the crumbling sides. That was all, though. The roof was mostly gone; the sides had caved in. Its contents had been tossed into the street and the small yard, where they peeked through the snow.

Ren tried the doorknob, and it was locked. He laughed, loud and half-hysterical, and Rowan and Asher pressed close to his sides.

“This was where I grew up.” His voice sounded shredded, foreign to his own ears.

Asher and Rowan exchanged a glance but said nothing. Ren didn’t blame them. He’d had no idea how to comfort Jakob, and they had no idea how to comfort him. Maybe there was no comfort to be had.

He walked around the doorframe and stepped through a hole in the standing wall. With every step he took, his feet crunched on rubble mixed with mud and ice. A tinkle of glass made Ren bend down and dig with frozen fingers until he found a vid-still of him and Liam—too young and too happy—in front of the lake. Slowly, Ren stood and shook the picture free of the wood frame and broken glass.

“Is that your brother?” Rowan asked.

Ren nodded. His throat went tight and, suddenly, Ren realized his tears hadn’t dried up. He folded the picture and put it in his pocket. “I’d like to be alone for a bit,” he said. “To look around.” To mourn.

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Asher asked. His voice was gentle, and Ren resisted recoiling from it.

He peered at the destruction. He questioned the structural integrity of the building, but it had held on thus far. Ren was fairly certain he’d be okay, for a little while at least.

“I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be right outside,” Rowan said and winced. “I mean, around the corner. Over there,” she amended, waving her hand. “Take your time.”

Ren nodded, unmoved by her uncharacteristic awkwardness. He stood still as they ducked through an opening in the wall and disappeared. Turning his head to stare at the scorch marks on the wall, Ren ignored the last glance Asher cast his way. Once the sound of their footsteps faded, Ren walked through the remnants of his home.

The last time he’d been here, he and Liam were racing through their chores, hoping to get out to the lake before the sun sank too low. An age had passed since then.

He went into the room he and Liam had shared. He stared at the chest of clothes at the end of his bed and thought about stuffing his favorites into his pack. But he remembered Asher’s mother had bought him new clothes, clothes made of finer material that fit better, and he had no use for homespun rags.

The bed that had been his was hidden beneath a fallen wall. Liam’s bed was cluttered with a few cheap books he had bought from another village kid. Ren fingered the pages. The sheets had shriveled, and the ink had run. The words were barely discernible. Liam would be furious they were ruined. He should put them in a drawer away from the elements. He should find the scrap of blanket Liam treasured and slept with constantly. He’d want that back. He should find the rock Liam had claimed was a meteorite and gave to him one birthday because it was a piece of a star. He should clean everything up for when they returned. He should… he should…

Ren shook his head. He wasn’t staying here.

He couldn’t stay here.

He snatched a comic from the bed and stuffed it into his pocket with the picture. He backed out into the hallway. The clench on his heart was painful. He swallowed the sorrow and moved to the room his mother and stepfather had shared. It was mostly intact, but the roof threatened to bow under the gathering snow.

Ren fell to his knees, shoved his arm under the bed, and felt for the keepsake box his mother kept there. It would have things his mother held dear, and though he might not have any emotion tied to them, his mother did. That would be enough.

But he found nothing. Frowning, Ren ducked to look into the sliver of dark space, but didn’t see the small tin box. That was odd. It wasn’t worth anything. It wasn’t worth taking by anyone other than his mother.

Unless… unless.

Hope was a dangerous thing, frightening, yet thrilling. Ren shot to his feet and tore open the closet door. A smattering of clothes hung there, but more were missing. He pushed the remnants to the side. The large pack his stepfather used on hunting trips was gone.

Ren ran to the kitchen. He righted a chair, climbed onto the counter, and reached to the top of the shelves. He pulled down the glass jar his mother used for her special sweet juice, and it shattered on the floor. He pushed aside the serving platter they used for birthday cakes and the pottery bowl his stepfather had bought his mother from the next town over. He stepped along the counter, perched dangerously, and swiped down everything from the cabinets; around him crockery rained, shattering and splintering along the floor.

Asher came running in and skidded to a stop as Ren flung open another door and pawed through the remnants.

“Ren? What are you doing? I thought the house was coming down.”

“It’s gone,” Ren said. His tone didn’t match the thrumming of his veins or the pounding of his heart. “It’s gone. They escaped. They had to have escaped.”

Asher frowned. “Ren, come down.”

Ren hopped to the floor. His boots crushed the memories to dust. “Don’t you understand? The keepsake box is gone and the emergency credits.”

“So? The soldiers took them? Ren, they’ve ransacked the place.”

“No.” Ren shook his head. He resisted the urge to shake Asher. “They were hidden. And the box has no value to anyone other than my mother. There would be no point for a soldier to take it.”

Placating, insufferable, Asher’s raised his hands. “I know you want to believe they got away.”

“They did!” Ren said, kicking over the nearest chair. It slid across the floor. “Don’t act like you understand. You don’t!”

“I know I don’t, but I’m trying here. Okay? I am not going to support you in a delusion.”

“Why? Why do you care?”

“Because I do!” Asher stepped around the table and gripped Ren’s shoulder with his good arm. “I do because I care about you. I still care about you and I’m not going to stop just because you hate me.”

“You only care if I’m a threat.”

“That is not true, and you know it.”

Ren clenched his jaw. He ignored that statement; he had to, or he might break in pieces. “And what makes you so sure it’s a delusion? The keepsake box is gone. The emergency credits. My stepfather’s travel bag. It all points to—”

“Rowan and I found a mass grave.”

Ren wrenched out of Asher’s grasp. Breathing heavily, he pushed his way past Asher and into the main room. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the darkening day and the falling snow.

Rowan approached him. “Did Asher tell you?”

“Yes.”

Gently, her voice low, she nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Is there anything I can do? Are you going to be okay?”

No. No, he was not. “I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ren, it’s okay if you’re not—”

“I need a minute.”

Ren walked briskly to the path he knew so well. His body was flushed. Sweat gathered at his temples and the base of his hairline. It dried on his skin, and he shivered. Snow fell into his eyes and his hair. It gathered around the collar of his jacket and chilled him, but it didn’t hinder his progress. His steps didn’t falter.

He pushed through the low-hanging, snow-laded branches of the evergreens along the trail and ignored the bare, spindly twigs of the deciduous trees as they caught on the fabric of his clothes. The farther he went, the more anxious he became; emotions and memories overwhelmed him. Suddenly walking wasn’t quick enough. His body hummed with energy, so he broke into a jog, which turned into a full-out run. He sprinted, his legs and arms pumped, and his breath came in fraught gasps, until he stumbled wildly onto the beach.

Kicking up sand and snow, Ren fell to his knees at the edge of the water. Chest heaving, Ren stared out over the lake, flat as glass with the shore of the other side barely visible in the gathering darkness. A thin layer of ice glinted in the fading light. Underneath, the water moved, swirled inky-black like in his dreams.

His dreams, where Liam was alive and real and talked with him. I’m not here.

Sitting there with the cold leeching into his legs through the thin fabrics of his trousers, Ren knew. Liam wasn’t here. He wasn’t at the lake. He wasn’t in the village. He wasn’t in the ground.

Hope was dangerous.

“This must be the lake you talked so much about,” Asher said, coming to stand next to Ren at the water’s edge.

Ren hadn’t heard his footsteps and he jumped at his voice. He craned his neck and looked up. Asher stared at the lake.

“It’s not quite like you described.”

Ren frowned. “That’s because it was barely spring when I left.”

“Ah,” Asher said. He toed at the ground. “It’s nice.”

“It’s not.”

Asher raised an eyebrow.

Ren continued. “It’s almost always cold except in the heat of summer. The sand gets stuck everywhere. Things live in it, and they bump into your legs when you swim. And if you splash too much, the water gets too murky to see. It’s gross and it’s nothing like the clear fountains and warm pools on the drifts where you can swim and not be afraid of being pinched by a creature or getting tangled in lake grass.” Ren pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

Asher sighed. “I wasn’t comparing it to the water on the drifts.”

Ren didn’t say anything. The sun was gone, and the sky edged from twilight to full dark. The broken moon was visible through the breaks in the clouds, as were a few pinpricks of stars.

“Was this the spot where…” Asher trailed off. He swallowed; his expression was pained, as though he realized his question bordered on cruel.

“Where I last saw my brother? Not the exact spot, but…” Ren waved his hand dismissively. “But nearby.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For everything. For all that’s happened. For pushing you away. For the people of your village. For your home.”

Ren stood. “My family is alive. They escaped. I know they did.”

Placating, Asher raised his hand and took a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, Ren. Whatever you need to believe.”

Ren didn’t register the doubt behind Asher’s words. Instead, he zeroed in on Asher’s limp arm. He wasn’t wearing a sling, maybe to hide the fact he had limited use in case they wound up in a fight. Asher’s fingers twitched.

Again, shame overwhelmed Ren, but not for his humble planet, or his gross lake. This was deeper.

“Last time you were here,” he said, clearing his throat, “you were attacked, injured, and captured. I’ve been selfish. I never thought about your feelings about coming back here, what that might trigger for you. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve not been yourself.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And how do you feel now?” Asher’s voice was hesitant; the question was weighted with meaning.

Ren tilted his head and watched the clouds drift. He blinked against a few wandering snowflakes.

“Ashamed. Guilty. Heartbroken. Hopeful.” He met Asher’s gaze. “Uncluttered.”

“Is that good?”

“Yeah.” Ren’s voice came out in a whisper; his breath made a puff of cloud. He stood and brushed off the back of his trousers.

“We should get back,” Asher said. “It’s getting too dark to see.”

“I know the way.” Ren stepped into Asher’s space. His pulse raced, and in the low light he saw Asher’s bemused expression. Carefully, slowly, Ren ghosted his fingers over Asher’s hand. “Let me fix it.”

The space between them charged with electricity, and the spark raised the fine hairs on Ren’s arms. He shivered, and it wasn’t only from the cold.

Asher licked his lips. His green eyes were wide in the dying light, reflecting the broken moon and the ice on the water. “I don’t…” He took a breath. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“Honestly? No, and you don’t trust me either. But I trust my own judgment. You may not be the Ren I became friends when we were on this planet together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Asher closed his eyes, as if in surrender. “Do it.”

Ren threaded his fingers with Asher’s lax hand, their skin frigid. He closed his eyes, and pushed out with his power. Asher’s shoulder lit up in Ren’s mind. He saw a blueprint of machine and bone, of tech surrounded by flesh and sinew. In the hold of his star, Ren had rendered the mechanism inert, crippling Asher, his friend, the person for whom he held the most affection. Remorse threatened to drown him. Ren pressed closer, needing to convey his contrition. His lips rasped over the stubbled skin of Asher’s cheek in a whisper of a kiss. Asher’s body was a wall of heat and comfort, and when Ren pressed his cold lips to Asher’s jaw, he released his star.

Asher’s gasp puffed against Ren’s cheek. He shook his hand free of Ren’s grip and reached up to splay against the back of Ren’s neck, holding him still.

Other than that small gesture, Asher didn’t move, merely held Ren as they breathed, as they shared a moment by Ren’s childhood lake under the stars Ren used to dream about, with the gentle whispered hush of falling snow the only sound.

“Thank you,” Asher said, quietly, after an eternity.

At the words, Ren’s eyes filled. A lump lodged in his throat, and everything he had held back broke over him in a wave. He dropped his forehead to Asher’s shoulder and sobbed.

Asher’s grip tightened while Ren shuddered apart.

He didn’t let go.

6

Trudging back through the forest was a solemn process. With little light, Asher relied on Ren to guide him, and that required Asher to rest his hand on Ren’s shoulder. They didn’t speak, not after Ren, shy, embarrassed, and rubbing at his eyes, had hiccupped and pulled back from Asher’s embrace.

Healing Asher’s shoulder and crying had been cathartic, and, though their relationship wasn’t what they’d once had, they were closer than they had been since leaving Mykonos all those weeks ago.

Ren spied the flickering of flame up ahead, and they found Rowan holding a torch and wearing a sour expression.

“Where the stars have you been?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Asher replied. He picked up one of the two packs at Rowan’s feet and slung it over his shoulder.

Rowan huffed, opened her mouth—undoubtedly for a retort which included the word idiot—but paused. Her eyes widened as she saw Asher grasp the packs straps with both hands. She looked to Ren and back to Asher and her mouth pulled down at the corners.

“Your shoulder—”

“We’ll talk later,” Asher said, cutting her off. “We should find the others.”

“This way,” Ren said. At a brisk walk, he followed the path from his home into the village. He didn’t wait for Asher; the closeness they had shared at the lake had evaporated in the face of Rowan’s quiet appraisal.

Toward the village center, he found Ollie, bundled in a scavenged coat. The fabric stretched tight over his shoulders, and the buttons strained over Ollie’s chest.

“Jakob’s over there, down that road. His house is standing and will be good shelter for the night.”

“Lead the way,” Rowan said.

Ren jumped, not realizing how close Rowan stood at his shoulder. Ren turned slightly and found Rowan and Asher flanking him. Their breaths puffed in soft clouds; their cheeks were flushed with cold. Flakes of snow clung to Asher’s golden eyelashes and framed the green of his eyes in the flickering shadows caused by Rowan’s makeshift torch.

Ren spun back around and stared at Ollie’s back as he led them toward Jakob’s home.

Ren knew where it was. He remembered it from when he was a child, when he and Liam had passed it while they played or completed chores. To young Ren, it had appeared enormous, like a mansion or a castle.

Approaching it now, the house resembled a skeleton with its bone white columns broken and falling. The open front door was a maw. Scorch marks tattooed the shutters. The glass in the windows was broken. It had fared better than Ren’s humble home, but the family’s possessions were strewn all over the front porch and yard.

Ren peered around the entranceway and noted the solid construction and the extra spaces that Ren’s home didn’t have. He turned a corner and found Jakob and Penelope dragging mattresses from the upstairs bedrooms into a den. A fire roared in a fireplace. Broken furniture had been pushed to the back wall. A pile of blankets rose in a corner, and another pile of clothes sat by the fire, warming. The room gave off a cozy, but intimidating, vibe. Ren wanted to sink into the nest of cushions closest to the fire and warm his bones, but he shuffled to a stop. He’d never been in Jakob’s social class, let alone in his home.

Jakob dropped the mattress he dragged and greeted Ren with a lukewarm smile. “Welcome to my home.”

Ren shrugged out of his damp jacket and laid it by the fire to dry. “I’ve never been in your house. It’s big.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is opulent.”

“Sure,” Ren said.

“Look, we made a fire. And we’ll have a nice, warm place to sleep tonight.” Penelope sat on a mattress and patted the space beside her. She smiled, and her brown eyes caught the firelight and seemed to glow. “Have a nice dinner from our packs and a good rest. Everything will look brighter in the morning.”

“Obviously,” Jakob muttered.

Ren bit his lip to stifle his snicker.

“No power?” Rowan entered the space with no stutter in her step or worry for propriety and looked around with her hands on her hips.

“We have candles,” Penelope offered.

“We could have power if Ren is willing,” Jakob said. He crossed his arms. “And then you would be able to enjoy the splendor of my family home.”

“Ren is here to disconnect. I don’t think having him power anything is a good idea.” Ren agreed with Asher. He shrugged his shoulders at Jakob in apology. “Besides,” Asher continued, “lighting this place up would be a beacon. We shouldn’t draw attention, especially if we are going to stay here a few days.”

“We’re not,” Rowan stated. “We’ll head back to the ship in the morning.”

Jakob dropped his arms. His mouth flapped open, and he took a step forward. “What? But we’ve only just arrived!”

“And staying would be for what purpose? Your families are gone. No one is here. There isn’t a reason to hang around.”

“You’re joking. You have to be joking.” Jakob looked to Ren, pleading. “We got here only a few hours ago, Ren.”

“I know.”

“Then make them let us stay.”

Rowan twisted her mouth and grabbed her braid. “No one is going to make me do anything. Understood? I am the captain here, and no little dusters are going to order me around. I don’t care if they have technopathic abilities or opulent houses.”

Jakob turned red; the color burned in the apples of his cheeks. “Screw you. Screw all of you weeds.” He kicked the pile of blankets, and Penelope lunged to keep them from tumbling into the fire. Jakob stalked off, slamming the door behind him.

“Good job, Cap,” Ollie said. He joined his sister by the fire. “I think Ren showed more empathy when he tried to kill the Hatfields.”

Ren winced.

Rowan rounded on Ollie, finger pointed. “Don’t start. I’ve rearranged my, our, entire lives for these two. We’ve been pursued by an insane man, stormed a drift, and almost shot out of the damn cluster. We’ve done everything we can and now we’re on some stars-forsaken ball of dirt looking for people who are probably dead.”

“Rowan!” Penelope said, scandalized. “They could be alive.”

Rowan cut her gaze to Asher.

Asher sighed. “We found a gravesite. It was large.”

“Does Jakob know?” Ollie asked.

Asher shook his head.

Penelope stood. “One of us should tell him.”

“I’ll do it.” Ren needed air. The pressure in the room was stifling.

Penelope wrung her hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at Rowan. “It should come from me. I’ll make sure to use all my empathy.”

Rowan glared.

Ren left the room through the door Jakob had just slammed. The house was dark, but Ren followed the glow of a candle to another room.

Jakob sat on a bench in the curve of a large window. He had one leg tucked beneath him, and he stared out over their village. The candle sat next to him in an ornate holder; the flame flickered in time with Jakob’s breaths. The window surface was fogged from the heat of Jakob’s body while the snow continued to drift outside.

The carpet softened the sound of Ren’s footsteps, but in the tomb-like silence of the room, and with the creak of wood beneath him, he couldn’t have sneaked up on Jakob if he’d wanted. Jakob didn’t turn around, but Ren’s image reflected in the window and their gazes met before Ren looked away.

“Did the drifters send you to talk me down?”

“No, they didn’t. I volunteered.”

Ren pulled out a chair from a large, decorative-but-sturdy, table. A chandelier hung overhead, where its crystals flung tiny rainbows on the ceiling and the walls. A broken cabinet stood nearby which, by the look of the mess on the floor, had once been filled with fine dishes. Ren sat stiffly, imagining fancy, stilted dinners, complete with rich foods and wine. Then he dragged the chair to the window and joined Jakob in staring at the landscape.

“Well?” Jakob prodded. “Are you going talk to me about how it’s better if we leave? How we’re selfish for wanting to stay here and risk Rowan’s reputation and their livelihood?”

“No.”

“I’m not going back, not until I’ve found my father, not until I’ve found Sorcha. They can’t make me. And if you want to join them and go do whatever it is the Phoenix Corps wants you to, then go. I’ll be fine here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Jakob rubbed his forehead. His brown hair stuck up in the back. His skin looked pale, even in the warm, yellow light. He shivered, since the room was much colder than the den, and tucked his coat tighter around his body. He looked fragile, as if he might break into shards like the china at their feet.

“You’re not?” He turned and swept his gaze up and down Ren’s frame. “Are you in your right mind? Or are you addled?”

“I’m better.” Ren swallowed, knowing everyone had realized he wasn’t correct while on the Star Stream—everyone but him. “I’m not… fixed. But I’m better being away from the ship.”

Jakob nodded. “Then what’s the plan? Are we heading out on our own?”

“Yes. I think my mother and stepfather escaped. I think… my mother’s keepsake box was gone and so were the emergency credits we hid in the kitchen.”

“I think my father and sisters fled, too. Their rooms are destroyed but things are missing that only they would care about.”

Ren had forgotten Jakob had sisters. He didn’t talk much about them. They were younger, still in school. Ren didn’t remember their names, but he did remember Jakob’s account of being captured, how he’d run to draw soldiers away, to protect a group of younger children.

“Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find them, even if I have to search the whole countryside. And no one is getting in my way. Clear enough?”

“Yeah, Jakob. I’m with you.”

Jakob cleared his throat. “Liam?”

“He’s not here.”

“Right.”

“We should get some rest. We’ll sneak out in a few hours, when the others are asleep.”

“Do you think they’ll follow?”

Ren’s gut twisted. “No. And if they do, they don’t know the area like we do. They won’t find us.”

“Not even Asher?” Jakob raised his eyebrows. “He’s your protector. He’s your friend.”

“He’s my jailer.” Ren needed to remember that. Even if their relationship was being repaired, Asher held allegiance to the Phoenix Corps. And the Corps wanted Ren locked away near Perilous Space. They would never allow Ren to gallivant across the Erden landscape looking for his family. He was only here to reset, to detox from the thrall of the star. They didn’t care about him. They only cared about what he could do for them or against them.

“He’ll look for you.”

Ren didn’t believe that. “Come on.” Ren stood. “We don’t want to raise suspicion by being gone too long.”

Jakob nodded and glanced back to the window. He pressed his fingers to cold glass, leaving smudge marks. “We’ll find them.”

“Yeah, we will.”

Ren didn’t mention the graves. There was no point in undermining Jakob’s belief, his hope. Jakob did stupid things when he was desperate. Jakob couldn’t find anyone if he was dead.

* * *

After a hurried dinner of dried meat from their packs and water from the canteens, Ren curled up in a nest of blankets on top of one of the mattresses. The softness was murder on his back. He didn’t take off his boots and kept his feet off the end of the mattress and on the floor, but it was hard not to fall into a deep sleep with the crackling of the fire, the gentle hush of the snow outside, a full stomach, and warm, heavy covers. The mattress Ren had chosen was on the outskirts of the circle, and no one questioned it. Jakob hung back and checked the locks on the doors before he found his own spot at the edge of the group.

Asher was the last to settle. He stretched out on the couch. He toed off his boots and flung an arm over his eyes. Ren studied him, as Asher’s body slowly relaxed into the cushions and his breaths evened out when he gave into sleep. Ren had seen this when they were in the dungeon together, when they were on The Nomad escaping Erden, when they stayed up too late in the common area of the Star Stream. Knowing he might not see it again, Ren committed the image of Asher to memory: the gold of his hair, the slope of his nose, the peaceful curl of his fingers, the slight bend of his knee.

Amid the ambient sounds, including Ollie’s snores, Ren closed his eyes, sighed, and slipped into a light doze.

It seemed only a few minutes had passed before Ren was woken by a shake to his shoulder. Finger to his lips, Jakob stood over him. He had a pack over one shoulder and wore a heavy black coat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He handed Ren a similar coat, and Ren shrugged into the thick fabric. Once he had it zipped, Jakob passed him gloves and a hat.

The fire had burned low. Asher lay curled into himself under a blanket. Rowan and Penelope hadn’t stirred, huddled together under blankets on the floor near Asher. Ollie’s snores had ceased, and Ren found Ollie propped up on his elbows with his brown eyes reflecting the firelight.

Ren froze. Jakob noticed and his body stiffened.

A silent staring contest ensued. No one moved. Ollie’s mouth turned down in a frown; his eyebrows raised. Ren gave him a shrug and tried to convey his apology with his expression. Ren didn’t know what Ollie saw or if he understood the driving need for both Jakob and Ren to at least look farther.

A log cracked in the fireplace. Rowan stirred, rolling around in her comforter, before snorting and falling back into sleep.

Ollie nodded once at Ren and lay back down.

Ren didn’t dare breathe. His muscles were tight and cramped, as he and Jakob crept out of the room and into the kitchen, down a hallway to a pantry, and then out a back door. Jakob closed it softly behind him and ensured it had locked.

The clouds had cleared; the broken moon was bright. It lit up the snow, and what Ren could see of the village looked like a painting, a tranquil scene of rustic life, and not the site of a horrible tragedy. The air was cold and crisp and burned Ren’s lungs as he took a relieved breath that they had come this far.

Silently, Jakob and Ren moved away from the mansion. Jakob didn’t look back, but kept his shoulders straight and his eyes forward. The only sound was the crunch of their boots in the snow, but even that was hushed.

They found the familiar path that led them out of the village and curved toward some outlying farms. Having learned from his and Asher’s trek across the countryside, Ren hopped down into the ravine beside it and pulled Jakob down with him. Ren gestured for Jakob to follow, and together they ducked into the trees that lined the road.

The branches bowed under the weight of the snow and blocked the light of the moon and the stars. It was slower going, and they had to step more carefully than if they were on the trail, but their tracks would be harder to find and they blended in wearing their dark clothes.

They trudged through the wood, keeping the path in sight to their right. The village disappeared behind them. A farmhouse, large but rundown, appeared in front of them. As they neared, Ren made out broken windows and a door barely holding on to its hinges.

Abandoned.

They passed it and kept going. Hours went by. The sun rose; darkness gave way to a slow brightening of the sky. Ren stopped to watch as it crested over the horizon: dawn breaking magnificent, the landscape awash in pinks and golds.

Jakob bumped into him. “What are you stopped for?” His voice was muffled behind the collar of his coat.

“I forgot what sunrise looked like.” As much as Ren loved space, the terrifying beauty of the stars dotted in the black, he couldn’t deny the warm splendor of the planet waking up.

“Well, now you remember. Let’s keep walking.”

“Do you have any idea where we are going?” The chill had worked its way under Ren’s coat a few hours ago. The small part of his face that was exposed was numb. His feet were lead weights; snow was caked to his boots and pant legs. “Or any idea of where we are other than east of the village.”

“I know exactly where we are and I have an idea of where we’re going.” Jakob shouldered past.

“An idea? Care to share?”

Jakob stopped. He looked behind them and then met Ren’s gaze. “You’re going to be mad.”

Ren raised an eyebrow.

Jakob sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket. Using his teeth, he pulled off his glove and reached into his coat. He removed a slip of folded paper and held it out.

Carefully, Ren took it and unfolded it. He read: “East to North. North to flee from the sun like Daphne. Then there’s an X.”

“I found it on the floor of my father’s room. It took me a few hours to figure it out, but I think that’s where my family is.”

Ren furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“East to North. Do you remember the Roper family? They came into town on festival days to trade. There was the one daughter with the… really nice… assets.”

“Vaguely,” Ren answered.

Jakob took the note. “Anyway, the head of the family was named North. Their farm lies east of the village. So East to North Roper’s farm. It’s only a few miles ahead, Ren. We’re almost there.”

“And then what? What the stars does ‘flee from the sun’ mean? Who is Daphne?”

“That confused me, too, since I didn’t remember anyone named Daphne, but once I realized he was talking about a story, I got it.”

Ren tilted his head. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, come on, Ren. I know you didn’t stay in school as long as I did, but surely you know the story of Daphne.”

It clicked. Flee from the sun. In the story, Daphne had fled from the sun god and her legs turned to roots and her arms splintered into branches. She became a tree to escape him. “The Laurels.”

“And the X means to cross the Laurels.”

“Why didn’t you show Rowan? We wouldn’t have had to sneak away! She would’ve taken us there instead of us trudging through the snow. Cogs, Jakob!”

Jakob shook his head. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes!”

“Then you’re more naïve than I thought. You honestly think she would risk more days on a hunch? On a piece of paper that may mean nothing at all?”

“But it does mean something!” Ren waved his hands. “It’s obviously a code. You figured it out.”

“It’s a code to us dusters. Not to them. They would’ve dismissed it because they’re drifters. They’re not like us.”

Ren’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Jakob?” he yelled. “Those drifters took us in! They’ve acted like our family. Penelope thinks the world of you. They’ve fed us, included us, protected us.”

“They want to throw you in a prison!”

That brought Ren up short. “Asher and I are… working on it.”

“And if they don’t do that, they want to use you. You are nothing but a tool or a weapon to them.”

“That’s the Corps, not the crew.” It was an important distinction to make, since sometimes Ren couldn’t see the difference himself.

“It doesn’t matter. Now you’re free and you can use your power to help us. Think about it. You could be a hero to Erden.”

Ren took a step back.

“Jakob,” he said softly, “did you lure me away to use me?”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant! I swear. I just…” Jakob kicked the snow. “I want everything to go back like it was, before the stupid soldiers showed up, before being captured. I know it can’t. I know it will never be the same, but this is my chance, our chance, to find our families and have a normal life again. I need that, Ren. I’m not strong like you.”

Ren looked up and blinked against the brightness. He didn’t want to make a choice of leaving one family for another, but that is what he’d done.

Had he chosen the correct one? There was no going back now.

“Jakob,” Ren said, looking east. “I don’t think I’m destined for a normal life.”

“Probably not.” Jakob pushed past Ren. “But you can have one for a little while.”

“And if you’re wrong? If they’re not across the Laurels, what will we do?”

Jakob didn’t stop. “My father left me this note. He had faith I’d come back and find it. I have to have faith that they’re there.”

Ren sighed. Anger roiled in his gut. “Save me from idiot dusters.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, steeled his resolve, and followed.

* * *

They made it to the farm after a few hours.

Ren shivered despite the layers he wore; his limbs were freezing despite constant movement. To find the old house, he and Jakob had to abandon the safety of the trees and cut across flat land. The wind whipped viciously, blowing snow, obscuring their vision, and cutting through Ren like a blade, slicing him to the bone.

Out in the open, they were unprotected, visible to anyone nearby, even in the swirling snow storm: two dark blobs that staggered in the deepening snow. Maybe recent events had Ren paranoid, but he swore someone was watching them as they trudged toward the Roper farm. He thought he heard footsteps other than his own over the whistling wind. His skin crawled with the feeling of a gaze upon him. Ren tried his best to look around, but the stab of the cold on his cheeks and nose kept him hunched into his coat and scarf. He wouldn’t have been able to spot them anyway. And that made him all the more guarded. His power flared in his middle and searched for any nearby tech.

There was an inkling, a tug on the edge of his perception, but when he stopped to concentrate, it flitted away. Someone was out there, and Ren and Jakob were sitting ducks.

However, by the time they stumbled up the walk to the front porch, Ren didn’t care if someone was out there or not. He was determined to go inside and sit by a fire and warm the frozen nubs that were his toes.

“We’ll stay the night here,” Jakob yelled over the wind’s howl.

“We have to. We’ll both be icicles if we keep going.”

“Good point.”

The chill was no better on the porch. Ren stomped on the weathered wood, kicking off mounds of snow, while Jakob knocked on the door. With the protection from the overhang, Ren pulled the cloth from around his face and turned to scan the landscape.

He could see nothing but the blankness of snow. It didn’t soothe his unease, but at least there was not an immediate threat.

Jakob knocked again, louder, insistent, but there was no answer.

The house didn’t look as if it had been disturbed by the same forces that had destroyed his childhood home, but it didn’t look inhabited either. The building appeared sturdy, as did the surrounding outbuildings—the barn, the chicken coop, the tool shed. It was all intact, and in the winter Ren wouldn’t expect to see anyone walking around outside. However, he would expect to see the healthy glow of a fire, or heating elements, or even light coming from the window he peered into. He saw nothing, except his breath fogging on the glass.

“I don’t think they’re home.”

“Astute observation, Ren.” Jakob tried the door, and the knob turned. “It’s unlocked.”

They entered and looked around. A layer of dust clung to the flat surfaces, and the house was almost as cold inside as it was outside.

“They’re gone,” Jakob said. “They must have left with the others.”

“Or they were run off,” Ren said. He wandered into the main room and was relieved to find a stack of wood by the fireplace. “Let’s get a fire started and eat and rest. We’ll leave for the Laurels at first light.”

Between the two of them, they had a roaring fire in no time. They searched the deserted house and found blankets and linens in the upper rooms and set them in front of the fire to warm while they continued to explore. In the kitchen, Ren drifted his fingers over the small pieces of tech that the family had left behind. His star pulsed under his skin and throbbed with the desire to be allowed out, to merge, and Ren gritted his teeth against a deluge. He allowed a trickle to seep from his fingertips, and it vibrated down his limbs and sought out the circuits and systems of the appliances. With the power came familiarity and comfort, and Ren controlled the flow easier with each passing moment. He didn’t feel as if he were drowning in a current or being helplessly swept away. In fact, flexing his star was like stretching a muscle, a good ache, and, when he reined it back in, he had minimal trouble. There was no overwhelming need to fix everything or kill anyone, which he counted a plus.

Asher had been right about Ren’s need to disconnect. Without the Star Stream in his head, Ren could think clearly. He was slotted in his body experiencing every hunger pang, every throb of his joints, and every stretch of his muscles. At the current moment, Ren wasn’t certain being able to feel everything was the gift it was supposed to be.

Ren went back into the main room. He and Jakob ate a meal from their packs. Ren toed his boots off and peeled his trousers down his legs. His skin was red and stinging from the combination of wet cold and sudden heat. He set out his wet clothes near the hearth. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up in a plush chair. They didn’t talk, and the darkness crept closer around them as the sun started its descent and the wind beat against the house. The wood creaked under the assault. The fire snapped and crackled. Ren pulled the blanket closer, tucking the corner under his bare feet, warding off the chill and the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but imagine that he was a character in one of his mother’s stories, trespassing in a sacred place. With each passing moment, Ren was more certain he was in a room of ghosts.

Exhausted, warm, and fed, Ren let his eyes droop as he watched the sun slowly sink toward the horizon. He was half asleep when he heard it—a loud thump and then a rattle at the front window.

Ren snapped to instant wakefulness and sat up in the chair. Heart thumping hard and sitting still as stone, he strained to hear. Just when he had begun to think it was his imagination and had relaxed into the cushion, he heard it again.

“Jakob,” he whispered, tone harsh, panicked. “Wake up.”

Jakob stirred where he had slumped on a soft rug under a large quilt. He made a noise which was part snore and part shout.

“Be quiet,” Ren said, shooting to his feet. “I hear something.”

There was another loud noise, and then the door handle of the front door shook. It didn’t give, because Jakob had locked the knob and the deadbolt. There was another noise, and the stomp of footsteps retreating.

Ren shook, body trembling, as he watched the front door. Agonizing minutes passed. Ren relaxed his shoulders. A thump reverberated on the other side of the house. Ren whipped around. The handle on the back door began to turn.

Jakob inched close to Ren. “Please tell me you locked the back door.”

Ren gulped. “I didn’t.”

A gust of wind shook the house. The flames flickered, casting shadows along the walls.

“Maybe it’s North Roper.” Jakob attempted a hopeful tone, but his voice cracked.

“Or maybe it’s someone responsible for what happened at our village.”

The door pushed open, but stopped, caught on a rug by the door. A gust of wind blew inside, and goosebumps bloomed on Ren’s arms. The person on the other side struggled with the door, and Ren glimpsed a pulse gun in a gloved hand.

“Hide!” Ren said, shoving Jakob’s shoulder.

The door budged, and the rug gave way. Jakob dropped his blanket and took off, bare feet thumping across the wood floor.

Ren faced the intruder. He reached for his star; the power crackled at his fingertips like lightning in a storm. The hairs on his legs and arms rose. Blue bled into his vision, and he reached out and saw the mechanisms of the pulse gun as a blueprint.

The person stalked in, covered head to toe in a layer of snow and ice over a thick coat and scarf. Only a sliver of his face was visible, and his cheeks were flayed red from the wind. His green eyes glittered, and he stalked forward, undeterred when Ren’s power dismantled the weapon. The weapon lay in pieces on the floor, but the man kept coming. When Ren realized he wasn’t stopping, it was too late to flee, but he tried, staggering backward, tripping over the quilt Jakob left behind. His pulse raced; fear was tangible with the cold sweat at the back of his neck. Ren’s feet tangled, and he fell against a chair. He let out a strangled cry as he pushed out of the man’s grasp and stumbled to the staircase.

He made it up one step before the man grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backward. His collar dug into his throat, cutting off his air, and he slipped. Grabbing the banister, Ren held on, desperate and afraid, in his last attempt at escape.

But the intruder was stronger. He pried Ren’s arms back, and then Ren was pressed hard against the wall so the back of his head knocked into it. Bruisingly tight, an arm pressed across his body. His chest heaved. He struggled weakly, gasping. The tips of his toes barely touched the wood floor. This was it! He was going to die at the hands of someone he didn’t even know. He had survived capture, the citadel, mercenaries, the Phoenix Corps, only to perish in an old farmhouse, a day away from possibly finding his family.

Then he was let go. He sagged on the wall; his knees were weak.

The man pulled the scarf away from his face. His mouth was turned down in a frown; his expression was absolutely livid. He hit Ren on the back of the head.

“You idiot!” Asher said. “You left the door unlocked. Do you want to be killed? You have no idea who or what is wandering around out there. Tracking you was depressingly easy. You could have at least tried to cover your tracks.”

Ren let his head thump on the wall. “Cogs, Ash! You scared the star right out of me.”

“And running up the stairs? Unless you were going to jump from a window, you would have had no escape. Plus, no boots. No trousers. For someone who ran away from people who were protecting him, you have done an abysmal job of trying to keep yourself alive.”

Ren slid to the floor so his bare legs stuck out. A flush worked up his neck. He was mortified to be caught half-naked, but relief won out over the humiliation.

“I could go on, but I am going to go lock the back door.” Asher went back the way he came, passing a closet door. He grabbed the handle and wrenched it open. “Predictable hiding place, Jakob.”

Ren laughed, giddy, as Jakob stepped out. Jakob shot a glare to Ren, which only made him chuckle harder as his fear morphed into lightheadedness.

The back door slammed, and Asher carried a pack into the main space. He stripped out of his own hat, scarf, gloves, and jacket. The snow clinging to Asher’s boots and trousers melted into puddles as he stood near the flames.

“Where the stars do you two think you are going, anyway?”

Jakob snatched his quilt from its heap and went back to his nest on the floor next to the fire. “None of your business.”

Once Ren gathered his wits, embarrassment welled through him, though Asher had seen Ren looking worse, and he quickly found his own blanket and wrapped up in it. He sat in his chair and huddled into the warmth. “Where are the others?”

“Heading toward Delphi, hopefully.” Asher warmed his hands over the fire and rubbed them. His fingers were red.

“They left?”

“Rowan is justifiably furious. She says she’ll meet us at Delphi and if she’s not there when we get there, to wait for her.”

“They let you go off alone?” Ren asked. He rested his cheek on his pulled-up knees.

“Ollie wanted to come,” Asher said. He unlaced his boots and stepped out of them. His socks had a hole in the toe. “But I made him escort Rowan and Penelope back to the ship. Not that I think they couldn’t take care of themselves, but because if Ollie came, then Penelope would want to come, too, and that would leave Rowan alone. She’d feel abandoned by her crew. And then I’d have to deal with that. So here I am.”

“You could’ve announced that it was you when you came through the door. You didn’t need to scare us,” Jakob snapped.

A slow, cruel smile bloomed across Asher’s lips. “What would have been the fun in that? Besides, you two deserved it, for sneaking off on a dumb mission for nothing.”

“It’s not for nothing,” Ren said, quietly. “And we know where we are going.”

Asher lifted an eyebrow. “You do, huh? Something you want to share?”

“Jakob found a note.”

“Stars, Ren! Why don’t you tell everyone? I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind since he wrote it in code.”

Ren gestured. The blanket slipped down his shoulder. “It’s Ash.”

Jakob gave Asher a narrowed-eye glare. “My father left a note. We have an idea about where my family is living and we’re going to check it out. You can go back to the space dock and wait for us there.”

“Like hell.”

“Ash,” Ren said.

“No. I’m not letting you two out of my sight, even if it means staying up all night in case you get it in your heads to sneak off again.”

Jakob snorted.

Ren sighed. “No need for that. You should rest. We leave at first light.”

Asher studied Ren, then nodded.

Jakob grumbled as he twisted in his nest to get comfortable. Ren grasped his blanket tighter. Asher settled down, careful of the small pools from the melted snow. Ren’s eyes drifted closed, and the last image he saw was the flames reflecting in Asher’s gold hair.

7
bundled in layers and carrying their packs, they left the farmhouse as the sun rose. Ren had reconstructed Asher’s pulse gun, though that was more difficult than making it fall apart. It had taken a few minutes, but in the end, Ren was fairly certain it would work. Asher had it tucked near his hip, hidden beneath his bulky coat.

Ren covered up; only the barest sliver of skin was exposed to the cold and the frost. They trudged through the snow: Jakob leading, Asher a step behind, and Ren bringing up the rear. The snowstorm had died down during the night, and the sky was clear. The sun was bright and beating down on the rolling fields covered in powdery white.

Ren looked over his shoulder at the house as it diminished in the distance. He was glad to be out of there; the place had left him unsettled.

“I’m still mad at you for scaring us, by the way,” Ren said, as they walked.

Asher laughed. “Well, I’m still mad at you for sneaking away from the group.”

Ren hummed. “Fair, I guess. Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you get from the front door to the back door so fast last night?”

Asher stopped. He frowned. “I wasn’t at the front door.”

Ren’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I approached the house from the back when I spotted the fire through the windows. I was freezing and went for the direct route.” Ren swallowed. Fear must have shown in his eyes because Asher moved close. His voice was full of concern. “Was there someone at the front door last night?”

“It must have been my imagination.” The wind had been brutal. He had already been thinking of ghosts and of being watched. And only a few days ago, he’d been slowly driven insane by a spaceship.

“Are you sure?”

Ren picked up his pace and brushed past Asher. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

By the afternoon, Ren sweated beneath his layers from exertion and the warmth of the day. He didn’t remove his scarf or coat, however, knowing that his sweat would chill and leave him colder than before.

When his stomach growled, they all stopped to eat the dried meat Penelope had packed and to drink from the canteens. The cold water chilled Ren’s throat and chest, and he coughed into his fist. Before they moved on, Asher packed fresh snow into the empty canteen, then looped it over his shoulder.

The path they took wound through the countryside. They started in farm fields, but as they neared the entrance to the Laurels, they encountered a small wood. They stuck close to the edges, taking refuge under the canopy of evergreen branches. Ren didn’t experience the feeling of being followed or watched again, but he occasionally prodded the area with his power to make sure. He didn’t experience any feedback from tech, which put his mind somewhat at ease.

As they traveled, Ren couldn’t help but remember the time he and Asher had spent days wandering the countryside on their way to a spaceport: how they had slept in a hollowed-out log, how they had bathed in a stream, how they had spent most of their days in a dazed sleepless state, how they’d kept moving out of fear and desperation. Ren had spent days watching Asher’s back as he’d pushed them onward. The circumstances weren’t quite the same, but the span of Asher’s shoulders was no different and neither was the determined length of his strides.

Their relationship was different, though. The closeness they had found in the dungeon and in their escape had evaporated. Maybe that’s all their relationship had been—born of mutual desperation. When the fighting was over, the flimsy premise had disappeared, and whatever they had been crumbled.

Ren frowned and pushed the thoughts away. It wasn’t the time to dwell on the past and the things Ren couldn’t change. He would always be a duster technopath, and Asher would always belong to the stars.

“We’re getting close to the entrance to the Laurels,” Jakob said, in the late afternoon. “We should start looking for a place to take shelter.”

“I think I saw a thicket a few yards back that would be good,” Ren said, pointing over his shoulder.

“We should keep going,” Asher said. “And find actual shelter. I don’t want to be out here in another snowstorm.” Asher waited for Ren to join him. “Not that I don’t think we could tough it out, but there may be better shelter ahead. I’d hate to go backward.”

Ren shrugged. “Whatever you say—”

A sharp crack of a twig cut Ren off.

Asher grabbed Ren’s coat and yanked him back while stepping between Ren and the place where the sound originated. A shrub rustled nearby. Footsteps approached.

Jakob joined them and crowded close. Asher had his pulse gun out of his holster. Ren reached with his star, and four pieces of tech pinged back from different directions.

“Four of them,” Ren whispered. “We’re surrounded.”

Jakob had a knife in his hand; his gloved fingers were wrapped tight around the hilt.

“Come out,” Asher called. “We know you’re there.”

Four figures, dressed like villagers, but wearing body armor and helmets reminiscent of the Baron’s soldiers, melted out of the wood. Three of them had prods, the fourth carried a stunner. Suddenly the thought they were being watched didn’t seem so farfetched after all.

“Well, this is familiar,” Jakob said, low.

The four fanned out with weapons trained on their small group.

“I can take care of this,” Ren said. They had fewer weapons than the Hatfields had, and Ren’s star already crackled through him, lighting up his nerves from his frozen toes to his fingers.

“No,” Asher replied, voice low. “Don’t reveal yourself. Not yet.”

“You’re trespassing,” one of the group said. She stepped forward. Her red hair peeked out from beneath her helmet and trailed over her shoulders. She hefted the stunner. “Turn around and go back, and we won’t hurt you.”

“No weedin’ way,” Jakob shot back. “We’re heading to the Laurels. And you’re not stopping us.”

“Stars,” Asher said, voice low and irritated. “You want to get us captured?”

“The Laurels,” the woman said. She looked them up and down, but the helmet covered her expression. “Why?”

“We’re looking for someone.”

Their potential captors shifted, adjusting their weapons, firmly pointing them at the group. If they weren’t on edge before, they certainly were now.

“He didn’t mean that in a threatening way at all,” Ren said. That didn’t help, especially when one of the group moved forward so his prod grazed the outer layer of Ren’s coat. Ren struggled with reining in his desire to lash out, to render the weapons harmless, to protect the three of them. His eyes flashed as he blinked blue for a second. He choked back his power, packed it up, and shoved it down.

Asher looked to the sky. “Save me from idiot dusters.”

“We should take them with us,” one of the others said. “Let the leader handle them.”

“And lead them to our camp? No. What if they are birdmen?”

“They don’t look like birdmen.”

“What the hell is a birdman?” Jakob said. He pushed his hood back and pulled the scarf from around his face. “Whatever. I don’t care. I’m looking for my father and my sisters. We’re not here to hurt anyone or steal anything. Okay? Just let us go.”

The leader tilted her head. “You look familiar.”

“Well, I am a duster from the village near the lake.”

They murmured. The leader allowed the muzzle of the stunner to aim at the ground. “Surrender your weapon and come with us.”

Asher resisted, standing still. He looked to Ren, read the hope apparent in Ren’s expression, then spun the pulse gun in his hand and held it out to the nearest person, grip first.

The person holstered a prod and took the pulse gun, then tucked it into their belt.

“Good,” the leader said with a nod. “Follow us. We’ll be back to our camp before sundown.”

The end of a prod pushed into Ren’s back, and he lurched forward; he held his body stiff lest he sizzle with electricity. He followed the woman with the stunner into the trees. She led. Jakob and Asher and Ren walked in the middle of the cluster. The three others surrounded them and herded them.

“How long have you been tracking us?”

“A while.”

“Since Roper’s farm?”

The woman looked over her shoulder. “No.”

Asher and Ren exchanged a glance.

There was someone else out there. Or Ren should start believing in ghosts.

An hour later, the group stopped. The wood thinned, and the evergreens and the thick bark of leafless oaks gave way to a copse of slender branched trees. Ren stepped forward and ran his hand over the smooth, white bark. The roots forked like legs and dug into the earth in a curve like the arch of a foot. The branches rose toward the sky, like arms raised in supplication to a higher being. Daphne ran, and prayed, and turned into a tree, frozen in beauty for all time.

Asher placed his own hand next to Ren’s. “They’re beautiful. What are they?”

“The Laurels,” Ren said.

“Why are they so different from the other trees?”

The question had their captors whipping their heads around to stare at Asher. At least, that is what Ren thought they were doing. It was hard to tell through the shields of their helmets.

“There’s a story,” Ren said. “I’ll tell you another time.”

Asher realized his question had marked him as an outsider, either because he didn’t know the lore or because he had limited experience with trees, which was clearly a drifter trait. Ren was afraid he’d do something rash, but instead, Asher shrank back near Ren with his shoulders hunched and his head down.

“Who did you say you were again?” the woman asked.

“We didn’t,” Jakob shot back.

She crossed her arms. The stunner was strapped to her back but within easy reach. The electric charge of the prods pricked the star in Ren’s middle, and he sparked in response. It was only a flicker, but again, Ren blinked blue.

Asher grabbed his hand.

“I think maybe you should. Or we might decide to leave you out here to the elements.”

Jakob lifted his chin. His cheeks were pink from exertion. His eyes shone a cold blue. His breath hung in clouds. “I think maybe you should fetch someone in charge if you can’t decide whether to bring us to the camp or not.”

Ren sighed. Asher rubbed a hand over his face. So much for keeping Jakob from being reckless.

The statement certainly struck a nerve. The leader moved forward and pushed hard on Jakob’s shoulder. He took a step back to keep his balance; snow and twigs crunched under his heel.

“I am in charge.”

“Prove it. Take us in.”

She shoved a finger in his face. “You don’t give me orders.”

“Obviously someone does.”

She bristled. “Fine, we’ll go.” She held up her gloved hand to silence the chatter from her men. “But if you try anything, we’ll kill that one first.”

She pointed to Ren.

“Fine,” Jakob said.

Ren balked. “Wait, what?”

She cocked her hip, and Ren imagined her mouth in a self-satisfied smirk.

He started to protest, but was shoved in the back again, and this time Asher grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. He shot a glare to the owner of the prod before the group started moving, but received no reaction, not that he could tell. He loathed the face shields.

They continued on, following the woman along the boundary of the tree line that separated the small forest from the Laurels. The white trees on the right of their path grew thicker, until the branches intertwined, and even bare from the season, the brush was so thick it was difficult to see through. Ren didn’t know how they would be able to traverse the Laurels. To complicate matters further, the snow and the white wood of the laurel trees blended, and, even squinting, Ren found it difficult to discern any passage. Other vegetation ran wild in the small spaces left—ferns and vines and briar patches. Though dormant because of the cold and the snow, they still made the area impassable. Everything was a blur of white with occasional patches of brown. If they had entered on their own, they would have been lost within minutes and would never have found their way out.

Ren’s questions about the entrance were answered when they stopped in front of a thick group of trees. At their feet, almost hidden by the clinging snow, was a protection stone. Carved into the rock was the familiar lettering of the language of his ancestors. And beneath those was an X. On the note the X didn’t mean to cross the Laurels. It marked the entrance.

Ren nudged Jakob and jerked his head toward the symbol.

Jakob’s eyebrows shot up, and he smiled, quick and bright, then smothered it when a guard looked his way.

Their leader glanced around, and then swept back a curtain of vines to reveal a small alcove. She ushered them through, kept watch until the entire group was inside, then allowed the vines to fall back, which obscured the view and the light. Ren found himself beneath a natural arch made from two trees that had sprouted near each other and grown until their branches had become entangled. Ren couldn’t tell where one tree ended and the other began.

Asher’s eyes were wide, and he pushed his hood back. “This is amazing.”

“Quiet, now,” the woman said harshly. “Come on.”

She beckoned them onward. They ducked, bodies hunched, as they walked several feet through a tunnel that was longer than Ren had thought. About the time Ren developed a crick in his neck, the tunnel opened up and revealed the head of a twisting path.

Two more guards stood waiting, weapons in their hands, helmets on. “What do you have?”

“Stragglers,” she answered. “Found them wandering in the forest. They claim they’re from the village by the lake.”

“Really?”

One of the guards pulled off her helmet. She was impossibly young to be wielding any kind of weapon, and her wide smile when she saw Jakob made that more evident. With her wild dark hair and bright blue eyes, the resemblance was striking.

“Jakob!” she cried. She dropped her prod and her helmet in the dirty snow and leapt at her brother.

He caught her in a hug. “Ezzy!” He squeezed her tight so her feet left the ground, and they held on for a long, intense moment. When Jakob finally set her down, he didn’t let her go, but kept one arm around her shoulders.

“Ezzy, you remember Ren? Right?”

She blushed and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, of course. Liam’s older brother.”

“Is he here?” Ren asked. His pulse fluttered. Hope was present and dangerous, until she looked at the ground and shook her head.

“No, I’m sorry. But your mother and father are here.”

Ren’s knees went weak. His vision and hearing fuzzed out; the only sound was his heart thundering, while black dots danced across his eyes. He staggered back, dizzy, and clumsy. Asher caught him and held him up before he fell to the ground. His legs trembled and he had a stray thought about how Liam would’ve made fun of him for swooning. He chuckled and rubbed at his eyes and leaned on Asher’s embrace until he regained his bearings.

“They are?” His voice was a shiver. “Where?”

“In the camp,” Ezzy gestured over her shoulder. “Follow the path.”

“Wait,” the leader of the group that had found them said. She took off her helmet; her red hair stood on end. “How do you know these two?”

Ezzy squished into Jakob’s side. “This is my older brother Jakob. Jakob, this is the leader of our guard, Beatrice.”

“You’re Levitt’s son?”

Jakob nodded.

“Well, why in the hell didn’t you say so when we met?”

“Because I didn’t know who the hell you were.”

“You should’ve said!”

“You’re dressed like one of Vos’s guards and you’re carrying a stunner.”

She made a scathing retort. They bickered, and Ren barely paid attention to the conversation. His thoughts centered on talking to his mother, on what he might say, what he might do—but his focus snapped back when he heard mention of the stronghold.

“Salvaged, from the citadel,” Beatrice said, both pride and a challenge in her words.

“You go to the citadel?” Ren straightened, though he was unsteady on his feet. Asher’s hand stayed on his arm.

“When we need supplies.”

“So it’s empty, then?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Sometimes there are birdmen hanging about, but we avoid them easily enough.”

“What are birdmen? You keep mentioning them, but it’s a term I’m not familiar with.”

Beatrice smiled; her freckled cheeks were like apples. “It’s a term we used in my village. It means the Phoenix Corps.”

“There are Phoenix Corps? Here?” Asher asked.

“Unfortunately. The limited intel we gathered is that they’re looking for someone or maybe a few people. We’re not really sure. But they’re here and they are a bunch of weeds, let me tell you.”

“I need more information.” Asher pointed a finger at the group.

“And who are you?” Beatrice crossed her arms and eyed Asher critically.

“He’s a friend,” Ren said, twining his fingers with Asher’s, ignoring the way Asher startled and stared at their hands. “And we can find out more in a while, but my parents…” Ren trailed off. A lump formed in his throat. “My parents are here,” he said, quiet, awed.

“Right.” Asher backed down. “You should see them.”

Ezzy clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I can take you to the camp.” She looped her arm through Jakob’s. “Come on. Daddy is going to fall over when he sees you.”

A mixture of excitement and dread swirled in Ren’s stomach as he walked down the path to the village. He was about to see his parents, about to talk to his mom. He didn’t know what to say, what to reveal, if anything at all.

The path curved gently, and, when they’d stepped through another copse, the camp lay before them. The buildings were no more than shacks that looked as if they could barely bear the weight of a light snow, but there was no snow on them at all. They had been clustered in no discernible pattern. There were dozens, made from a combination of wood, metal, and blankets. Some of them shared walls the way apartments were stacked on the drifts. Which one belonged to his parents?

Cooking fires burned outside away from the wood and cloth. Tarps hung overhead in the trees as well. They reflected the smoke and the flames, and, when Ren crossed into the meadow, under the first layer of canvas, it was like walking into a wall of heat. He took off his scarf and unzipped his coat, shrugging out of the heavy fabric. Asher and Jakob did the same. At Ezzy’s instruction, they dropped their winter gear into a pile, and she led them deeper into the commune.

Ren didn’t know how the villagers had pulled it off, but the ground was free of frost and snow, and small gardens grew. Ren and Asher lingered. Asher bent to finger the leaves, as Ezzy and Jakob continued ahead of them.

“It’s a greenhouse,” Asher said. “Like on the drifts.”

Ren elbowed Asher hard in the ribs and shook his head. “Keep it down. We shouldn’t broadcast that you’re a drifter. Keep your tags and tattoo hidden. Something’s going on here.”

“I noticed.” He looked around, scoffing. “Birdmen? What the cogs? The Phoenix isn’t just a bird. It’s a mythological creature, and we are soldiers.”

Ren bit back a retort. “Your ridiculous contempt for the name is noted. Now, will you shut up?”

Asher pouted and crossed his arms.

Sighing, Ren pushed his hair from his eyes. “I’m serious. Try to keep your drifter opinions to yourself so you don’t get us thrown out of—”

“Ren?”

The voice was tentative, uncertain, but familiar. Ren snapped his head up and watched as his stepfather approached, carrying a bundle of wood. He looked the same, big and brawny. His brown hair was salted with gray, and his beard was full, as he always wore it in the winter.

“Ren, is that you?”

Ren straightened. He raised his hand in an awkward wave. “Um… hi.”

The firewood tumbled to the ground, and Ren found himself caught up in a bear hug. His stepfather’s arms crushed Ren to his barrel chest.

“I can’t believe it.”

Ren’s relationship with his stepfather had been lukewarm at best, awkward and strained most of the time, and contentious every once in a while. They didn’t hug. Emotion hadn’t been an aspect of their association. But wrapped tight in his stepfather’s arms, Ren felt tears gather because he was safe. For the first time in a long while, he was safe, without the throb of the star in his chest. He clutched back.

“Katherine!” he bellowed. “Kat! Come out here.”

He pushed Ren to arm’s length; his meaty hand curled around Ren’s forearm.

“What is it, honey?” she said, a laugh on the edge of her words. Pushing back a curtain decorated with flowers, she emerged from one of the shacks nearby. “What is the fuss all about?”

She wiped her hands on her apron. Her red hair was pulled back from her face in a complicated knot, and she had streaks of gray at her temples. Her eyes were bright, but her face had aged. She looked careworn, fatigued—the price of losing her home and both of her sons.

She gasped when she saw Ren. Her hands flew to cover her open mouth. Her voice trembled. “Ren?”

“Mom.”

She attacked him. It was the only way he could describe it. He wobbled backward, almost fell, but Asher supported him for a second. His palm made a reassuring pressure between Ren’s shoulder blades before he stepped away.

“My boy.” She cupped his face. Her hands were warm, and she kissed his forehead. “Oh, my son. How did you…? Where have you…?” She hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe it. Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’m good.” He held her hand to his face. He was good. He was bursting. All he’d wanted was to return home, and he had. He had made it. He had made it.

“You need a haircut. You’re shaggy.”

Ren laughed.

“And you need a good meal. You don’t look like you’ve been eating.”

That was true. Ren hadn’t been eating on the ship. He’d been too consumed with nightmares and electricity and power. What else did she see? The circles under his eyes? Could she read the things that had happened in tense lines around his mouth or the slump of his shoulders?

“A lot has happened,” he said simply.

She nodded; her smile dimmed. “It has,” she confirmed. She patted his cheeks and pulled away. She wiped at her eyes, then noticed Asher for the first time. “And who is this?”

“I’m Ash,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Ren’s friend.”

“We met at the citadel, when…” Ren trailed off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Kat pushed away Asher’s arm and pulled him into a hug. Asher held his body stiff, but, after a moment, he relaxed into her embrace.

“You look like you need a good meal as well,” she said, stepping back and eyeing them. “And a warm place to sleep and ward off the chill.”

“That would be very nice,” Asher said.

His stepfather bent to gather the wood back into his arms. “Come along, then. We’ll get you both sorted.”

Kat beamed. She took Ren’s arm and tugged. Ren grabbed Asher’s hand, and they were swept along into the camp.

* * *

His parents’ shack was tiny. The four of them fit, but barely, sitting on a threadbare rug on the floor. But it was cozy and warm, which was a surprise.

Ren and Asher received bowls of rich, hearty stew. The broth was fragrant, the vegetables were fresh, and the meat chunks were plentiful. Ren ate his fill, slurping from his bowl and sopping the remnants with a hunk of bread. Asher ate politely, though with zeal, and, by the end, Ren could’ve dozed off where he sat—warm and content and happy and back where he belonged, even if he wasn’t so sure of that last part.

His stepfather left to tend to the fires, which was his job in the little community. When he departed after a tender pat on the head to Ren and a kiss for Ren’s mother, the three of them were alone. His mother stacked the dishes, then fidgeted. She picked at a loose thread in her apron. Her fingernails were dirty. When she spoke, she didn’t look at him, but stared at a spot on the packed dirt floor. “What happened, Ren? When you were taken?”

The question was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure how to ask, or whether she really wanted to know.

Ren and Asher exchanged a glance, and Ren sat up straighter, keeping his legs crossed beneath him.

“You have to be more specific. So much has… it’s been almost a year. It was barely spring the last time I saw you.”

“The last I saw of you and Liam was when you two went to swim in the lake.” Her brow furrowed, and she worried the string between her fingers. “Was Liam with you when you went to the castle?”

“No,” Ren said. “I saw him in the forest. They had him, but he got away.” Ren ignored the sharp glance from Asher. Asher knew the whole story, having heard it on one of the nights they’d spent locked in the dungeon. “You haven’t seen him?”

“I dream about him,” she said. “But no, I haven’t seen him. Not since the day they took you. He must have been taken, too.”

Ren pressed his lips together and took a shallow breath. “He wasn’t at the citadel. Where else would he have been taken? Who other than Vos would have wanted him?”

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were green, like Liam’s, but they were haunted, afraid. “There are several possibilities for people with special gifts like him. Like you.”

The confession was like a stunner blast to the chest rendering him helpless. One moment, Ren’s heart beat, and the next, it seized painfully. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. His muscles locked. He stared at her with fists clenched against his thighs, eyes burning, body rigid.

“You knew,” Asher said, softly, gently accusing, but oddly compassionate, as if her knowledge was a burden.

She nodded. The gesture unlocked Ren like a key. He breathed, though it wasn’t calming or even; it was ragged and distressed. Tears of anger welled in his eyes as he remembered: the confusion and the dread; the prods and the locks and the cell and the ships; the nights wondering what was happening to him and trembling with exhaustion; the panic as he slipped into the machines; being hunted across a landscape and across the cluster and not really understanding why; being overwhelmed with power and having his humanity burned out of him in waves of blue electricity; having no agency, no control; being weaponized, dehumanized, and scared, so scared; terrified he would succumb to the thrall of tech, lose his humanity, lose his mind.

Ren jumped to his feet; the action startled both his mother and Asher. He towered over her, with his shoulders hunched to keep from knocking his head on the ceiling.

“Ren?” Asher said. “Calm down.”

“You didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He sparked out. His vision went blue. There was nowhere for the star to bleed to, other than Asher’s pulse gun, or the tech in his shoulder. And both were too small to warrant the attention of the rage which throbbed through him.

His mother blinked at him. Her face was pale, and she had twin spots of red on her freckled cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Ren. You have to understand. There are things going on that you don’t know.”

“No coggin’ shit.”

“You will not take that tone with me. I am your mother, no matter what you think of me.”

“What I think is that you were scared of me, like everyone else, like you should be, and you couldn’t face that. Were you scared of Liam too? Is he like me?” Ren held out his hand. Electricity snapped and crackled down his fingers, flickering along his skin. “What didn’t you tell him? Where is he?”

“Ren, I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared for you.”

She stood and folded her hand over Ren’s, snuffing out the sparks of power. Her eyes flashed gold. Ren’s star receded, tucked back into his chest, and when he squeezed his eyes shut, the blue faded. He blinked and caught the fading color in his mother’s eyes.

“How did you do that?”

“There is much more going on than you understand,” she repeated. “I’m sorry you had to figure it out on your own. And you must know that everything I did was to protect you and your brother.” She released his hand. “Now, sit down.”

Ren folded to the floor, partly in shock, partly from compulsion. Ren had always attributed his power to his nonexistent father. It hadn’t crossed his mind that his mother would be the one. He should’ve known.

Asher patted his arm, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by his mother. “Do you want me to step outside?” he asked.

“No. You should hear this too,” Ren said. He lifted his chin and waited for his mother to argue, but she did not.

“I’m not powerful,” she said. “And I can only comfort and calm. When you were small, you toddled to one of your toys, touched it, and your eyes went blue. When that happened, I had your stepfather throw out all of the limited tech we had. And we kept it that way.”

“I figured it out in Vos’s dungeon. Why we didn’t have tech. Why you wouldn’t let me go to the space docks.” His throat went tight. He had guessed about his mother’s knowledge all those months ago, but to hear it confirmed was entirely different. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide it?”

“I was hoping you would never be forced to know. I was hoping that it would pass you by, and you would never know the star that pulsed within you.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Your plan was that you hoped he wouldn’t need to use it? Wouldn’t be captured? Even though you knew there was a chance? That is the worst plan. That’s not even a plan. And what if he wanted to leave?”

She stared at Asher with a flat expression.

Ren turned his head away, against the realization that all his aspirations, all his hopes of leaving Erden would have never manifested if he hadn’t been taken by the soldiers. Liam had been right: His dreams were dust.

“I was never going to leave here,” he said softly. “You condemned me to a life on this weedin’ planet, in this stupid village, because you were afraid.”

“This is a wonderful life, Ren. This isn’t anything to be ashamed of, even if drifters deem it backward or spacers don’t understand.”

Ren didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say. He bowed his head and stared at the dirt floor.

“You couldn’t have left, Ren. You needed to stay here and remain hidden. There are things you don’t know. Things about us, about star hosts, and what we had to do to survive.”

“I can’t listen to any more.” Ren stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I think I’ll join you,” Asher said, also standing.

His mother got to her feet, and the three of them huddled in the shack. The air was too close; the secrets were too thick.

“You have to listen to me, Ren. You need the whole story.”

Ren shook his head. “I’ve been figuring it out on my own. I can figure out the rest, too.” He brushed past Asher, pushed the blanket curtain aside, and left the shack. He heaved a breath of the crisp, unfiltered air.

“Your son is wonderful and amazing and brave. He’s incredibly brave. I wish you could’ve seen that while he was here and trusted him enough to tell him what he needed to know. He’s survived, but not without cost, and that could have been prevented.”

“That’s easy for you to say, as someone not burdened with the gift of the stars.”

“No, it’s easy for me to say as someone who cares for him.”

Ren sucked in a breath.

Asher left the shack with a determined stride and stopped short. “I thought you would’ve walked a little farther away.” His cheeks bloomed with a pink flush.

Ren licked his lips; his pulse beat hard beneath his skin. “You care for me?”

“Of course, you know that.”

Ren did. Away from the ship, away from tech, this fact was a solid, irrefutable presence in his middle, separate from the star. It had its own space, its own force, and Ren could’ve cried from the warmth. He lifted his hand, curled it around the nape of Asher’s neck, and drew him close. The kiss was soft, not filled with the desperation of their other kisses, but significant all the same. It took a moment for Asher to respond, and, when he did, he sank into it, relaxed the tense line of his shoulders, and pulled Ren closer with an arm around his waist.

They kissed in front of the home where Ren’s parents lived, in the middle of a community of which Ren never really was a member. They kissed and didn’t care who saw, and while they did, while Ren’s lips molded to Asher’s mouth, he was at peace. The turmoil which constantly threatened to break him into pieces was soothed, and the universe shrank to Asher’s hand combing through his hair, and the movement of Asher’s mouth on his, and the beat of Asher’s pulse beneath Ren’s fingertips.

It was Asher who broke away, too soon, and Ren wasn’t prepared to relinquish the quiet thrum of intimacy, of affection.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven for being an arrogant drifter birdman?” Asher’s words vibrated against Ren’s mouth; his breath ghosted over Ren’s cheek.

Ren huffed a laugh. “We’ll work on it.” He pressed a quick kiss to Asher’s cheek. “What about me? Does this mean I’m forgiven for being an unpredictable, sometimes homicidal, star host?”

“We’ll work on it.”

Ren smiled, and it wasn’t brittle. He didn’t feel as if he’d break.

“I haven’t seen you smile in so long,” Asher whispered; he touched the corner of Ren’s mouth with his fingertips. “I had forgotten what it looked like.”

Ren clutched Asher tighter, prepared to continue working on forgiveness, but a hurried crunch of footsteps and a loud voice stopped him.

“Oh, thank the stars!” Jakob yelled. “I need to talk to both of you, right now.”

8

They found a fire and a ring of rocks. No one was nearby, which was a blessing, and the fire was large enough that it created a comfortable circumference of heat. They sat down, and Jakob kicked a bundle of firewood.

“I’ve been here less than a day and I already want to get the hell out of here.”

“Me, too,” Ren said quietly. He rubbed his hands together, then splayed his fingers toward the fire.

“My father wanted to know why I didn’t come back sooner. He said I had shirked my duties here and said I was a coward for staying away so long.” Jakob crossed his arms and frowned. “It’s not like I almost died or anything.”

Jakob’s admission was a surprise. To Ren, Jakob had led a charmed life of privilege, the only son of the head of the village council, the wealthiest man in the village. But there was more to the story, and, seeing Jakob hunched over his knees, Ren empathized.

“We could leave,” Ren said softly.

Asher snapped his gaze to him. “I thought you would want to stay. Coming home was what you wanted from the beginning.”

Ren furrowed his brow. “I have wanted to come home. I’ve wanted to find Liam. But this isn’t my home. My home doesn’t exist anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jakob said.

Asher looked at them. “If you don’t want to be here, we don’t have to stay. We could head back to the port and find transport.”

Jakob shifted. He stared at the fire. “I don’t know.”

Asher gazed at Ren, searching.

Ren shrugged. “I don’t want to be stuck here. And if I stay, I will be. And I… I don’t want to lose you. And the family I’ve built.”

“Are you sure?” Asher asked.

“No. I’m not.” Ren took a breath. “I’m not well on the ship. I’m a liability, a prisoner to the Corps there. But I don’t belong here either.” He swallowed. “I’ve outgrown it here. And Liam is still out there. But I….” Ren trailed off.

“Face it, Ren. We don’t belong here. I don’t want to leave my sisters, but they are safe. And I have other things to look for.”

Ren nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I wish I had a place where I belonged.”

Asher touched the back of Ren’s hand. “We’ll leave and if we don’t find a place, we’ll make one.”

“But what about…” Ren trailed off. He hadn’t heard anyone mention Sorcha’s name.

Jakob kicked the firewood again. “She’s not here, Ren. No one has seen her. I asked about her family and… well… apparently there is a gravesite at the village.”

“I know.”

Jakob pressed his lips together. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I didn’t want to take away your hope.”

Jakob nodded. He tossed a twig into the flames. “I am going to keep looking for her. I’m not going to give up.” He sighed. “So what happened with you? I saw you two had made up.”

“We’re working on it,” Asher said.

“My mother and I had an argument,” Ren said. He tilted his head and looked at the canvas above him. It blocked the stars. A spot in Ren’s chest ached because he couldn’t trace the familiar patterns. “About what I am.”

“She knew, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Sucks.”

“Understatement.”

They sat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire, and the distant hum of the encampment. Asher held out his arm, and Ren squirmed to his side, enjoying the closeness while lost in his thoughts. He laid his head on Asher’s shoulder and watched the flickering flames. His eyes became heavy-lidded. Emotional and physical exhaustion caught up with him. He slipped into a doze, curled into Asher’s body.

Ren dreamed. He couldn’t make out the setting. The area was dark save for a small light. But he wasn’t afraid. The dark wasn’t ominous, but merely there, a void. He squinted into the distance, and a blob of color appeared, but it had no shape, and the longer Ren stared, the harder it was to discern anything about the figure. However, he would swear he heard Liam’s voice. “This is much harder when you’re not connected to your own power.”

“Liam?”

Before he could receive a response, Ren was shaken awake, and he snapped to the present.

“Ren?”

“I’m awake,” he grumbled.

“Sure you are,” the voice was not Asher’s or Jakob’s.

Ren craned his neck to see Beatrice, her hands on her hips, her red hair spilling over her shoulders and sticking up in places to create a halo in the firelight.

“I hear you weeds want to get out of here.”

“Where did you hear that?” Ren asked. He sat up, pulled from Asher’s embrace, self-conscious under her knowing stare.

“A little bird told me. Sound travels in the hot box. Might want to keep your voices down next time.”

“What’s it to you?” Jakob said.

Beatrice arched an eyebrow. “We’re going on a supply run to the castle in the morning. If you haven’t noticed, we could do with comms and alarm systems, maybe even force-field tech for the entrance. You weeds want to come?”

Jakob and Ren exchanged a look. It would give them a purpose, at least for a while, and delay them having to make a decision to leave Erden altogether. They could help the encampment while using the time to think about their own destinies.

“You could look for clues,” Ren said. “Maybe find a trail from where Sorcha escaped.”

Ren knew any trail would be long gone, trampled over, broken up by weather and the change of the seasons, but Ren couldn’t take away Jakob’s hope, not when Ren clung to his own.

“And you could have breathing space,” Jakob replied.

Ren gathered his legs beneath him and stood. He was slightly taller than Beatrice, and she crossed her arms.

“We’ll go.”

“Good. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Do you have a place where we can sleep?”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t question that they would not sleep with their families.

“We have a communal area with free beds. You can doze there.”

They followed Beatrice into the heart of the camp. Asher placed a hand on Ren’s shoulder, and Ren was bolstered by the touch.

* * *

Ren settled down at Asher’s side in the communal tent. Though he was exhausted, Ren couldn’t sleep, but Asher’s soft snores were a calming rhythm in his ear. His mind flitted from thought to thought, flinched from his mother’s duplicity, and wondered what his brother could do, whether he knew his power, and where he might possibly be. He thought about going back to the citadel, and asked himself if that was a wise choice. Maybe they should go to the spaceport instead and leave, leave this place where Ren didn’t fit, where Ren would remain for his lifetime, if his family had their choice.

That was what stung the most. He had talked nonstop about leaving, about working on the drifts, about honing a skill that would be marketable, that would earn him passage. His parents had heard every word, often at the dinner table after a long day of shearing or planting or harvesting. What had they thought when he babbled about the contrails he had seen that day? Why had they remained silent? Had they cared? Ren gave up trying to sleep. He slid off the cot and the blanket and stood.

Asher stirred immediately. His eyes blinked open in the low light of the banked fires. “Ren?” He smacked his lips. “You okay?”

“Fine. Stretching. Go back to sleep.”

Asher huffed. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Asher rolled over, pulled the thin blanket up to his ears, and dropped into sleep on the next snore.

Ren left the communal area, which was just a large tent in the middle of the camp with several beds. Beatrice explained it was a good place for guards on duty to sleep between shifts and a transitional place for new refugees before their own accommodations could be arranged. They’d had a steady stream of new people for a while, from different villages, but the numbers had decreased once winter struck. Ren understood why. He wouldn’t have wanted to search for a hidden encampment in the middle of winter either, unless he absolutely had to.

Ren wandered a few feet from the tent and stretched his arms over his head. His shirt rode up; goosebumps bloomed over the skin of his stomach in the cooler air away from the fires. He yawned and sighed and looked up at the canvas. He frowned. As silly as it seemed, he did miss the view of the stars. He sighed and imagined the twinkle of the constellations against the blue-black sky.

A twig snapped to Ren’s left, and he turned quickly, peering into the darkness. “Is someone there?” he whispered. He took a few steps toward the sound. His bare feet were noiseless on the packed dirt and moss. “Hello—”

A hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off his speech and his air, and a strong arm wrapped around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides. He yelled against the gloved palm, twisted and turned in the iron grip, but his captor lifted Ren off the ground. He fought, kicked his legs, and threw his head back only to find a hard shoulder, but the arms held him, crushing Ren to a strong chest. Fingers dug into his jaw, and it hurt.

Ren lashed out with his power, but found no tech, nowhere for his star to go. He could only thrash and make noise as he was dragged to the outskirts of the camp, out of sight of the communal tent, away from the banked fires.

“Quit struggling.” The voice was frustrated and fierce, loud in the shell of Ren’s ear, but hushed.

Ren froze. His stepfather’s large hands clutched him, and they were not gentle, but Ren didn’t think he would hurt him. He held himself stiff and tense, waiting. His stepfather dragged him to the very edge of the encampment, where the trees began to grow thick and the canvas drooped. A line of snow marked the end of the hot box, and Ren shivered as they crossed it. They came to a small break in the branches, and his stepfather stopped.

“Set him down.”

Ren’s bare feet sank into the snow. The cold stung his skin, and when he was finally let go, he wrapped his arms around his body. His breath came in fraught, cloudy puffs.

“Mom?”

She held a candle but it barely illuminated the space. The darkness was dense under the twined branches of the Laurels. Ren glanced up and spied the broken moon.

“Yes. I needed to talk to you.”

Ren’s mouth dropped open, and he settled his incredulous gaze on the cloaked figure of his mother. “Are you serious? You had to kidnap me? What the weedin’ hell?”

“I had to get you away from that birdman you are traveling with. I couldn’t talk to you in front of him.”

Ren narrowed his eyes, but didn’t confirm Asher’s identity. Beatrice had warned them sound traveled in the hot box, and it seemed his mother had heard Asher refer to himself as Phoenix Corps. Ren looked at his stepfather, who stood nearby, arms crossed, watching intently, and his expression was confirmation.

“And the best way to do that was to make me think I was being captured again?”

“We don’t have time for you to be difficult.”

Irritation flared, but Ren didn’t speak. He clenched his jaw and gestured for her to continue.

“You cannot trust the Phoenix Corps.” She stepped forward and grasped Ren’s wrist. “I know you want to, but you cannot trust him.”

“Why?”

“Because he does not have your best interests at heart.”

Ren pulled his hand away. “And you do? I’m supposed to believe you?”

“You don’t know everything that has happened.”

“Then tell me,” Ren shot back. “Stop being cryptic and stop thinking I’m too young or I can’t handle it, because I can. I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, threatened, and I’ve been possessed by a ship which has slowly driven me insane. I think I deserve a reason.”

“You do. I’m sorry for everything that has happened. It wasn’t my intention for you to ever have to be involved with all of this.” She cast a glance around them. “When the technopaths were destroyed after they rose against the drifters, the other star hosts fled to the planets. Our ancestors dispersed, hid themselves, and destroyed any record of their existence. They disappeared among the dusters and passed down their history and knowledge through stories.”

“They became myths like the ones you used to tell me and Liam.”

She nodded. “Yes. It was their way of hiding while The Phoenix Corps hunted them.”

Ren furrowed his brow. “The Phoenix Corps hates coming planetside. They don’t want to meddle in our affairs. That’s how Vos managed to get away with what he was doing for so long.”

His mother shook her head. “Vos knew the truth to the legends. He knew that there were star hosts on this planet and on others. He knew that they would be the key to his plans. But with his rash actions, and, I wager, due to your own experiences with the Corps, the birdmen are back and searching.”

Ren swallowed. “Vos’s soldiers told Jakob they destroyed the village looking for me. Is that true?” Ren asked, voice low. “Who killed Sorcha’s family?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

Ren steeled himself for the answer he already knew. Vos had lied before; it wouldn’t have been out of character for him to lie again to ensure allegiance, to crush the recruits’ hopes.

“Vos’s soldiers did come back looking for more recruits. But that was normal. They came, took what they wanted, and left.”

“The Corps came later.” Ren’s voice was thick; he choked on the words.

“A few months after Vos retreated. They had already destroyed some of the other villages in the fiefs, so we were prepared. The Laurels was already set as one of the encampments.”

Ren’s knees went weak. He grasped one of the trees, felt the bark smooth beneath his palm, and fell heavily against it. The cold was forgotten.

“They cannot be trusted, Ren. They are here to find others like you, like us, and destroy us before we can destroy them.”

Ren rubbed a hand over his chest. “But the scrap of cloth you keep, the insignia. My father.”

“That is how I know you cannot trust your friend. I loved your father. I trusted him. But he was Corps and here for a reason. When he tried to betray me, your stepfather intervened.”

Ren shifted. His feet burned from the cold. His arms were numb. His thoughts were in turmoil. He looked at his stepfather. “Did you kill him?” His throat worked, and he glared, looking for anything in his expression that might tell him the truth. “Did you kill him?” Ren said again, voice hard, incensed.

“Ren! Ren! Where are you?”

Worried and sharp, Asher’s voice pierced through the trees.

“What other encampments? There are others? Where?”

His stepfather spoke. “I’ll not allow you to lead him to the others. It’s bad enough he knows of us.”

“Are you going to kill him, too?” Ren snapped.

His stepfather bristled, but Ren ignored him. He turned back to his mother. “I’m leaving in the morning. I won’t ever be back. I’m going to find Liam. I’m going to find a place to belong.”

“You can stay with us, love. You can always stay.”

“No.”

Jakob’s voice joined Asher’s, calling out for Ren.

“When I was in that cell and scared and wondering what was going on with me, I wished, I wished so much that I could be home, that I could see you again, that you could at least know what happened to me. Even though I never fit in here, even though I dreamed of leaving, I thought if I could get home, everything would be okay. But this whole time, all you’ve done is lie to me and manipulate me. You’re just like Vos. You’re just like the Corps.”

“We’re nothing like them. We love you and we only have your best interests at heart. We want you to be safe.”

Ren laughed, the sound hollow. “That’s what I thought I wanted, too. But being safe here is just another prison. I’d rather take my chances out there. At least I’ll be free.”

“You can be free here.” Her voice took on a pleading edge.

“No. I can’t. I’ve done so much, seen so much, met so many people who do care for me. I can’t imagine staying here.”

Tears spilled down his mother’s cheeks, and she didn’t wipe them away. They glistened in the candlelight. When she reached for him, he didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He allowed the hug, allowed her to clutch her hands in the back of his shirt and rest her forehead on his shoulder. He allowed it, but he didn’t hug her back. He stood unmoving as stone and waited for her to say goodbye. When she let go, Ren gave her a nod. He left the small clearing, passed his stepfather without saying a word, and stepped back into the hot box.

Asher’s voice echoed in the enclosed area. Chest tight, body taut, Ren was a powder keg, but he clamped down on the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He bit his lip and followed Asher’s frenzied voice. He was unable to call back lest the sobs building in his throat let loose.

“There you are!” Asher said, striding toward him, wrapping him in an embrace. “Stars, you’re freezing.” Asher rubbed Ren’s arms; his palms swept over the chilled skin. “Where have you been? You left and never came back. Jakob and I have been looking all over for you.”

Ren pitched forward, planted his face in Asher’s chest, and shook. The terror at being taken again mixed with the crushing truths from his parents overwhelmed him.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Asher pulled Ren close. “What happened? Was it a dream? Sleepwalking?”

Ren stilled. Pressed close to Asher’s body, it would be easy to give into the urge to tell him everything, to spill the truth about what his parents had said about the Corps and the star hosts, and the history his life was mired in. But his mother’s words lingered in the back of his mind, and Ren remembered how Asher had sided with VanMeerten so many times since the debacle on the drift. Asher was Phoenix Corps, through and through. His allegiance was split, torn between Ren and his duty as a soldier. And how much did he know? Was Asher aware that the first mission of the Corps was to hunt down the scattered remnants of the star hosts? Or did he only know what he had been told, like the rest of them?

Ren heaved a breath, pulled himself together, and stepped away. He wiped at his eyes.

“I had another talk with my mother,” he said.

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. It didn’t go well.”

“What did she say?”

“Goodbye.”

Asher’s expression shifted from disdainful caution to sympathy, and the corners of his mouth turned down. “I’m sorry.”

Ren waved him off. “It’s fine.”

“It’s really not.”

Ren scrubbed at his face. He yawned and his jaw cracked. “I should try to get some sleep. It’s still early.”

“Good idea. I’ll let Jakob know you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

Ren shuffled away, but Asher’s voice stopped him. “And Ren? It’ll be okay. We’ll help your village, and then we’ll go back to the ship. We’ll figure it out.”

Ren’s stomach roiled: back to the ship, back to being a different kind of prisoner. “Okay.”

Asher smiled.

Ren forced a grin, and went to his cot.

He tossed and turned until the sky lightened with the dawn.

%

“We’re going in that?” Jakob pointed to a beat-up floater half-hidden under a pile of leaves and bracken. The hover transport was rusted in some places and dented in others, and the vehicle’s cab sported cracked glass. “We’ll die.”

Wrapped in his winter clothes, Ren peeked over his collar and eyed the run-down equipment with trepidation. He didn’t think they would die, but they definitely would make a lot of noise. It could garner unwanted attention. They would probably go faster walking.

Beatrice crossed her arms over her own overstuffed coat. Her wild red hair was captured in a braid. “We’ve used it before, and it worked fine. Or would you rather walk?”

“Walk. I would really rather walk,” Jakob said.

“Fine, then. You can walk. And Ezzy and I will take the floater.”

Asher’s breath was a gust of hot air on Ren’s neck. “Can you fix it?”

Ren was exhausted. His head was fuzzy, but, as ever, the star burned inside him and easily flooded to his fingertips. He didn’t need to pull off his glove, but he did anyway. The chill in the air nipped at his exposed fingers when he held them out and closed his eyes.

The floater was junk, battered and old. However, Beatrice was correct. It did run.

“What’s he doing?” she asked. “Is he addled?”

Ren cracked open an eye and frowned. He stalked forward, brushing past the group, and slapped his palm onto the cold metal of the transport. He let go and poured his power into the circuits and mechanisms. He could fix it. As he raced along the broken wires and repaired them, and as he rerouted power around components that were too damaged to save, Ren was free from mortal concerns. He was happy, unburdened from impending decisions and from his loss, and content to stay there. His star hummed throughout his body and throughout the floater. Once he was finished, he flicked on the power source.

The floater lifted under his hand and the thrusters engaged, propelling the hunk of metal a few feet off the ground. He reveled in the whir of engines and the thrum of power in his veins. Satisfied, he eased off the power, allowed the floater to settle to the ground, and pulled out of the circuits.

Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Ezzy grinned, her face lit up.

“What are you?” Beatrice asked.

“I’m a technopath.”

“A star host,” she said, awed. “An actual star host.”

Jakob laughed. He walked past Beatrice with a smug look. “Did you hear that engine purr?”

She snapped her mouth shut and glared.

They all squeezed onto the front bench seat. It was a tight fit, but Ezzy was small and half sat on Jakob’s lap. After an argument over who would drive, Beatrice started the floater, and they eased out of its hiding spot in a copse outside the dense crush of the Laurels.

“Ren fixed it,” Jakob said, leaning over and jostling the rest of them. “You can go faster.”

Beatrice scowled, but she picked up speed, and soon the floater hurtled over the landscape: Scenery passed in a blur of snow and sky.

“We’ll have to ditch the floater before we get too close to the walls,” Beatrice said, her voice carrying in the wind. “In case there are birdmen around. Our patrols didn’t report seeing any in the woods last night, but we can’t be too careful.”

“What would happen if they saw us?” Jakob asked.

She kept her gaze on the sprawl of the land in front of them, but she lifted her eyebrow.

“They’ll kill us,” she said.

Ezzy nodded. Her gloved hands were wrapped tight around the nearby handles. “Or they’ll take us and ask us questions and then kill us.”

“Surely that’s a rumor,” Asher said. “The Corps has no interest in dusters. They’re probably here looking for Vos.”

“Vos is gone,” Beatrice replied. “He cleared out with his troops and never returned. Everyone knows that. And the leaders of our village told them so, but that didn’t stop them from burning it to the ground.”

Ren winced.

“It was the Corps that destroyed your village?” Asher asked, tone brittle.

“Yeah, and all the villages around it.” She stared at Ren. “Including yours.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Asher said. He turned to Ren. “They wouldn’t do that,” he repeated, though his voice was softer. “Would they?”

Ren shrugged. “I’m sorry, Asher. But it looks like they did.”

“What is your problem?” Beatrice asked, staring at Asher. “Are you some kind of birdman sympathizer? Or are you one of those, ‘they are only following orders’ people?” She kept one hand on the steering stick and placed the other on her throat. She fluttered her eyelashes. “They’re good people, honestly.” She talked softly with a strange accent. “It’s not their fault. They have to do what they are told.”

Ezzy snickered.

Asher paled. “Stop. Just stop.”

Beatrice batted her eyelashes again, then dropped her hand and sneered. “What the stars is your problem?”

“Drop it, Bea,” Jakob said. “You can understand it’s a touchy subject. And we’re all on edge. The three of us were actually held in the citadel, you know. I almost died there. This isn’t a fun jaunt across the countryside for us, whatever it might be for you.”

Beatrice huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

Asher looked stricken, with eyebrows drawn together, mouth in a tense line, and eyes shadowed. Ren interlaced their fingers. He gave a comforting squeeze, but Asher didn’t respond. His gaze was far away, unfocused, as the terrain passed beneath them.

The next few hours were spent in awkward silence as Beatrice drove on, except for Ezzy, who updated Jakob on all the gossip of the encampment, leading Ren to believe Ezzy was the “little bird” who’d spilled their desire to leave. Eventually, Beatrice changed course.

Ren roused from half-sleep and squinted. The sun shone high above them in the middle of the day and illuminated the snow-laden fields. The citadel rose above them, dark against the gray sky. The stone castle loomed over the landscape. The sheer outer wall was formidable and familiar. Turrets pierced the clouds, and from their tops the Baron’s standards flapped in the wind. Ren shivered, remembering the first time he had seen them almost a year ago.

Beatrice guided the floater parallel to the front of the castle and to a small gathering of trees. Ren recognized the woods he’d seen Sorcha run for, and he tried not to think about what might have happened to her. Jakob may have hope that he would see her again, but Ren wasn’t so sure.

Beatrice settled the floater on the tree line. The transport was too big to fit between the bushes and trees. The group climbed out and Ren stretched his arms, glad to walk after the ride. The floater stood out against the snow and the barren trees.

“We’re just going to leave it?” Jakob asked.

“Yes.”

“So someone can come along and steal it?”

Beatrice ignored the question, grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Ezzy did the same. They each took a weapon—Ezzy a prod and Beatrice the stunner—but they left the body armor and helmets behind.

“No armor?” Ren asked.

Beatrice’s gaze flicked to Ren. “We don’t need it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I think, maybe, it would be a good idea—”

“You know, Ezzy and I have been doing this for months,” Beatrice snapped. “We haven’t been killed, yet. I think we know what we’re doing.”

Jakob didn’t look pleased. “It’s a wonder how you haven’t been. We’re not only advertising that someone with a floater is here, but we’re leaving it unlocked. And you’re not even worried!”

“I don’t think I like your tone, Jakob.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I like that you’ve been endangering my little sister.”

“I’ve been protecting your sister because you weren’t here to do it.”

Jakob turned a dangerous shade of red; his muscles tensed. Asher grabbed his arm to keep him from advancing.

“Can Ren do something to it?” Ezzy asked. “To keep it from starting in case someone comes along?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” Ren reached for his power and blocked the path from the power source to the ignition. It only took a few seconds, and then Ren retreated. He took a moment to take stock, to indulge in his ritual of counting his heartbeats. His consciousness settled back into his body. “It’s done.”

“Your eyes glow blue,” Ezzy breathed. “They’re beautiful.” Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes went wide. “Not that they aren’t always beautiful. I mean, I’ve never seen someone do that.”

Jakob pulled his own pack and weapon from the back, then wrapped his arm around Ezzy’s shoulders. “Get used to it. He does it a lot.”

“Let’s get going,” Beatrice grumbled. She broke off from the group and trudged through the snow.

Asher followed her, uncharacteristically silent.

“How are we going in?” Ren asked.

“The front door, of course.”

“Do you think that’s safe?”

Beatrice threw up her hands. “Your little group really is a bunch of weeds. Can you just let me lead and stop questioning everything? Like I said, Ezzy and I have done this before. We’ll be fine.”

Ren sighed. There was another way in, the siege door that Asher and he had escaped through, but even if Ren could lower the force field, they didn’t have a key for the iron doors. And if they couldn’t get through, trying would waste more time. He nodded, acquiescing to Beatrice’s experience.

“Good. Now follow me. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Ezzy, take the rear and make sure your weed of a brother stays out of trouble.”

Jakob glared, but kept his lips pressed together so hard they turned white.

They crept across the open countryside that surrounded the towering walls of the citadel. The stone was stark against the wispy snow clouds and the occasional sliver of blue in the sky. It didn’t seem safe. Ren swore he was being watched, and his skin prickled with the sensation.

He reached out, searching for weapons or energy signals, but his power balked. His senses fuzzed out as his star twisted and writhed, tangling up. His head buzzed, and his vision went blue. Static overwhelmed him and tingled through his body down to his toes. He tasted electricity and colors and smelled sound, and the citadel vibrated in his bones. He clapped his gloved hands over his ears and hunched forward, gritting his teeth—none of which quelled the all-consuming whine of white noise invading his head.

Ren let out a whimper. Despite being invaded, he felt hands on his shoulders, someone pulling him up, then fabric against his cheeks.

He didn’t realize he had clenched his eyes shut until a voice asked him to open them. He did, and Asher’s face took shape: a blurry impression amid the blurred lines of blue and black and white.

“What’s going on?” Asher said.

Ren furrowed his brow, not able to speak as his power went haywire. Ren flinched, but the action made everything worse, and he realized fighting or hiding wasn’t going to work. Instead of withdrawing from the signal, he opened to it. He engaged with it. His star was a throbbing pressure in his chest. His body shivered and shook, his muscles tensed, his joints locked. But despite the assault on his senses, the more Ren succumbed to it, the clearer it became.

Vos’s voice. Repeating a warning in Ren’s head.

Asher shook him, and Ren’s teeth clacked. “Ren? What is going on? Are you okay?”

“Do you hear it?” he asked, his voice far away, blunted, barely a sound in the noise.

“No. No, we don’t hear anything. What do you hear?”

Stay away. Stay away. Not safe. Report to other base. Leave.

“A warning,” he managed to grit out. “From Vos. A signal.”

“This is why we need comms,” Beatrice said. “I bet we would pick it up on those.”

Asher ignored her. “Can you block it out?” His touch was gentle on Ren’s face. “Ren?”

Ren scrunched his eyes shut, but the message was insidious. It overran his mind and echoed through his thoughts.

Stay away. Stay away. Not safe. Report to other base. Leave.

Except you.

Ren shivered. The last words were softer, an intimate whisper in the shell of Ren’s ear, an invitation. Abiathar’s voice was a caress; his power of suggestion was present within the sound, and Ren was certain those words would not be picked up on any comm system. Fear crept down his spine as the phrase appeared again in the static.

Except you. Come in.

No. No!

Ren wrenched from Asher’s grip and broke away from the group. He ran, kicking up snow behind him, and sprinted across the wide-open area toward the stone.

He had to shut it off.

He had to shut it off.

He had to—

Come in.

9

Ren had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he had to push Vos and Abiathar out of his head. He got to the shadows cast by the towers and blindly felt along the stone edges. Not finding what he needed, he pulled off his gloves, ignored the shouts of the others behind him, and ran farther, trailing his hand along the citadel’s wall. The stone was cold and it scratched his palm, but he had to find it, had to find the source. He had to shut it off.

Come in. Come in.

“No!”

Ren stumbled to the castle gate. The portcullis was propped open and the heavy doors swung wide on broken hinges. The force field wasn’t active but the system was enough.

Ren slammed his power into it and raced through the wires and the circuits, up into the stone, through the courtyard, into the keep. He climbed and climbed, hopping from system to system, until he found the communications. Set in the highest tower, the beacon blared, alerting stragglers of Vos’s empire to their orders. It must’ve run for months, since Vos had left and Abiathar, his lead general, took the army to the drifts.

With a surge, Ren cut it off. He silenced the bleating repetition of words.

One second, the static consumed him, and in the next, it was gone. Ren was flesh and bone, weary, breathing hard from running. He sagged against the wall and slid down. Sitting in the snow, knees bent, he waited for the others to catch up.

He had outrun them all, and the group approached, weapons out and at the ready. Ren didn’t miss the fact that while Asher, Jakob, and Ezzy had their pulse guns and prods pointed outward, Beatrice’s stunner was aimed squarely at Ren.

Ren’s chest stung from the cold, and his hands bled from a few scratches. He warily eyed Beatrice as they approached. Though he could disable the weapon with a blink, she didn’t know that, and he didn’t know if he could stop her if she chose to pull the trigger with no warning.

The massive wooden door that Ren had walked through almost a year ago banged against the stone wall in a gust of the bitter wind. It sounded suspiciously like come in, but Ren shook his head, clearing away the clutter of words.

“What the stars was that?” Beatrice barked. “Are you trying to get us killed? If there were any birdmen around they would’ve picked you off for sure. Are you addled?”

Ren pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Your eyes are blue.”

“My eyes are brown.”

“She means you’re glowing, Ren,” Jakob said.

“Oh. I’m detangling.” Ren’s consciousness was stretched from the entrance to the tower, and he slowly contracted, pulled himself out of the remnants of the castle systems.

Ezzy’s eyes were bright, and her mouth was slightly open. “What did you do?”

“I turned off the signal,” Ren said. “I had to. It was… too much.”

“Are you okay?” Asher knelt, placed his hand on Ren’s shoulder, and squeezed.

“Yeah, I’m all right.” Ren tugged and he slotted back into his physical self. He took stock, counted his pulse, and wiggled his fingers.

Come in.

“For good measure, can you ask me an impossible question?”

Asher narrowed his eyes. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

The question chimed sharply in Ren’s mind. “Paradox.”

“Good.”

Beatrice heaved a sigh. “Well, any cover we had was blown as soon as you took off running. We might as well go in.”

“Any cover we had was gone the minute we stepped out of the floater,” Asher said. He stood and slid his pulse gun back into his holster. “If anyone wanted us dead, we would be. But that doesn’t mean we should throw caution into an air recycler.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Wind.”

“What?”

“Throw caution to the wind. Why would you throw caution into an air recycler?”

“I… what?”

“Weeds, you’re a drifter, aren’t you?” She pointed her finger at Asher’s chest. “That’s why you have such a problem with the truth about the Corps. You’re spoiled drifter trash.”

His jaw clenching, Asher visibly restrained himself from commenting. Ren rested a hand on his arm before rolling his eyes and sharing a commiserating look with Jakob. Ren stood, and Jakob shouldered between Asher and Beatrice.

“Can we finish what we came here to do? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to spend the night here. Let’s go.” Jakob brushed through the center of the group, breaking the tension.

“I’m leading,” Beatrice said. “And you three better start paying attention or you’re going to end up dust.”

They inched toward the opening to the courtyard. They stepped around the heavy wooden doors, and then ducked under the portcullis, which was pried open so its slats rested on a tower of pilfered stone. Beatrice led, checking around corners, with her weapon out and ready. Asher moved in tandem with her, inspecting corners and passageways. Beatrice remained stone-faced, but after putting together that Asher was a drifter, and the way he moved and handled his pulse gun, it was only a matter of moments before she figured out he was Phoenix Corps.

But Ren had bigger things to worry about for the moment.

Come in.

Past the threshold, the entryway split. The left led to the keep. The right took them to the courtyard.

Beatrice eyed him. “We’ve already picked the courtyard clean, and so has everyone else. We need to go into the keep.”

“We can get into the keep from the courtyard and then into the barracks. Jakob knows the way. So does Ren.”

She huffed. “Fine.”

The group moved to the right, quietly, on edge.

The courtyard was eerily silent. The sun was high; the walls cast shadows. The raised platform stood in the middle, looming over the closed-in area. Ren swallowed the lump in his throat, and Jakob crowded close to Ren’s side as he stared at the wooden structure.

“I died there.”

Ren cautiously touched Jakob’s shoulder, remembering when the soldiers had tortured Jakob in front of him for attempting escape, how Jakob’s cries had echoed through the courtyard, how his body had hung so limply. “Don’t look at it.”

“Hard not to.”

“I know.”

Ren looked at the corner where he’d spent his days. The bench was there. The buckets of broken tech were turned over and rooted through. He hefted the container onto the wooden board that used to be his desk.

“That stuff is junk,” Ezzy said, coming to stand at his elbow. She had her prod leaning on one shoulder.

Ren shifted the broken pieces and in the bottom he found a comm. It was indeed broken, but, with a flash of his star, he fixed it. He handed it to Ezzy. The small green light around the rim indicated it was on and working.

“Whoa,” she said. “You fixed it.”

“Yeah. It’s working now. We only need to find a few more and tune the frequencies.”

“You’re amazing,” she said, cheeks red.

Ren laughed. “Not really.”

“Yes, you are. I noticed, even when we lived in the village, before everything.” She cleared her throat. “I used to watch you work. I could see the fields from my window and the livery.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up. He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

“Aren’t you… uh… young to… uh…” Ren cast a helpless look around the courtyard, but the others were busy. Beatrice stood watch, while Asher and Jakob looked for tech in any of the mess left behind. “Notice people?”

“I’m thirteen,” she said.

“Oh. We should find more tech.” Ren walked away to join Asher. His limbs moved awkwardly, and he felt heat in his cheeks.

Asher handed Ren another comm. “Found it in the dirt. Can you fix it?”

Ren nodded. Distracted though he was, it flared to life in his palm, and a voice came across loud and clear.

“Fox, you see anything? Over.”

“Saw a group go in through the front. Not birds. Didn’t see if they went to the stone or the dirt. Be careful. Over.”

“Okay. Might be friendlies. We’ll be careful. Over.”

“Comm if you need me. I’ll be watching. Over.”

“In the tunnel, heading in. Radio silence for now. Out.”

Ren and Asher exchanged a glance. “Someone’s coming!” Asher said, harshly. “Come on. Under the arch.”

Beatrice, Ezzy, and Jakob ran to the shelter and crowded in. It was the arch Ren had walked through every morning and night of his captivity and it only offered minimal shelter. They could hide, but only if the group didn’t walk directly in front of them. Pressed against the stone, in the shadows, Ren held the comm in his fist, while Asher peeked out. The sun lit a slant across Asher’s features. The tension in the small corridor was thick as the group held its collective breath.

“What’s happening?” Ezzy whispered.

Jakob shushed her, and she made a face and opened her mouth to retort, but Asher waved her quiet.

“Weapons ready,” the female voice from the comm said. “Fox saw a group. Not birds, but we’re not taking any chances.”

Jakob went still, then he pushed away from the wall where he had been squished between Ezzy and Beatrice.

“I know that voice.” Jakob stepped toward the opening.

“Jakob, no,” Asher said. He reached out to grab Jakob’s sleeve, but Jakob was too quick. He pulled his arm away and ran into the sunlight.

Ren watched as Jakob put his hands up, and he felt the weapons charge, heard the loud hum of the energy, and smelled the slight ozone tinge of the air. Ren gathered his power and waited, body coiled as a spring, ready if he needed to defend Jakob.

“Wait,” the voice said. There was a charged moment, and then a timid, “Jakob?”

“Sorcha,” he said.

Sorcha!

Ren’s body unlocked, and he vaulted from the wall and into the sunlight. He skidded to a stop next to Jakob.

The sunlight blinded him for a brief terrifying second, but then he found himself staring at a ragtag group of dusters with Sorcha at the lead. Her white-blonde hair was cut short; her blue eyes were large in her round face. She had her head tilted and her weapon pointed to the ground, but the group behind her had their stunners trained on the pair of them.

Ren ignored the cursing coming from the tunnel and grinned at her. He belatedly raised his hands in surrender, and that had Sorcha’s lips twitching into an amused smile.

“Ren,” she greeted.

“Sorcha.”

“Is it really you two?” she asked. She took a step forward, her boots crunching in the snow.

Jakob trembled. “Is it really you?” His voice shook, and Sorcha’s expression softened. “I’ve been looking for you,” he continued. “We came back for you. I came back for you.”

Sorcha dropped her stunner. It fell to the snow, and she gave up any pretense of caution. She threw her arms around Jakob’s neck, and he grabbed her, threaded his gloved hands through her short hair, and held on.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, words thick and muffled by Jakob’s coat.

“I thought you were dead,” he replied in kind.

“We went to the village,” Ren said. “We saw and we didn’t know if…”

She lifted her head from Jakob’s shoulder, and met Ren’s gaze. She held out an arm. Ren leaned into it and she embraced both of them, then clung to them.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you both so much.”

Ren closed his eyes and sighed, happy to be with his friends, the two people who had started the journey with him. They were together, though in the place they didn’t want to ever see again.

Sorcha pulled away. “Where’s Asher?”

There was an annoyed sigh, and a shuffle of footsteps.

“Right here.”

Sorcha beamed at him. “You’ve taken care of him. Good job.”

“It’s been difficult,” Asher said. “I’m glad to see you,” he added sincerely.

Sorcha laughed. “I’m glad to see you too, Ash.”

Their reunion was cut short when someone behind them cleared their throat. “Sorcha?”

“Oh.” She turned around and addressed the group of five behind her. “They’re friendlies. No worries here.”

They relaxed and holstered their weapons. “So what are we doing?”

“We’re going to scavenge like we came to do. But we might be staying the night. What do you say to that?” She looked to Jakob.

“Yeah. We are too.”

“Since when?” Beatrice asked, stepping out of the alcove.

“Since now.”

Jakob glared at her, daring her to protest, but she didn’t. Her gaze dropped to Jakob’s fingers laced with Sorcha’s, and she acquiesced with an annoyed grunt.

“Fine.”

* * *

Beatrice and Ezzy disappeared into the keep with Matt, one of Sorcha’s men who knew the way. He was another teenager who had escaped with Ren and Asher the last time they had been at the castle. Asher, Jakob, and Sorcha ventured into the barracks and tunnels that led to the kitchens and dungeons.

Ren set up his old workstation and inspected tech the others brought. He fixed what he could and junked what he couldn’t.

Between the two groups, Ren fixed several comms, which allowed everyone to be in touch. He helped Asher and Jakob pry the force-field tech out of the stone at the siege tunnel. With three points of contact, Ren was certain someone mechanically inclined could set it up at the entrance of the encampment. Not him, though. He wasn’t going back to the Laurels, to his family. He was certain of that now.

Ren worked, and the others worked, and soon they had a pile of tech that would be of good use. They also had clothes, rugs, and pots and pans. There were some dried stores in sacks. There was a single prod, which Ren managed to get to spark.

As night began to fall, so did the temperature, and the groups agreed to take respite from the cold inside the keep. They hauled their bounty inside and assembled in a large room with a fireplace. A rug that was too big to move lay on a stack of rushes. The doors were intact and they closed. Sturdy chairs were dragged in front of them to provide protection, however inadequate.

Ren wasn’t worried. He had Asher, Jakob, Beatrice, Sorcha, all equipped with weapons, and all hardened by their experiences.

They started a fire and gathered around it. Jakob stayed close to Sorcha’s side. They shared provisions from their packs and from the stores they had found in the kitchens. As in the farmhouse, Ren was surrounded by stories and ghosts, the echoes of the people who had been here before him. He could feel them in the electricity in the air, in the systems in the walls, in the lights which glowed, and in the reflections in the glass of the high windows.

Come find me.

“So you found Ren on a drift?”

Jakob nodded and drank from a bottle of wine he had found in the stores. “Yeah. He and Asher were mounting this rescue that had ridiculously bad odds.”

“Shut up, Jakob,” Ren said, though he smiled. “We won, didn’t we?”

“Barely.”

“What happened to you, Sorcha? Where did you go?”

She took the bottle from Jakob and had a long pull. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “I never made it back home. I’m sorry,” she said to Ren. “I never found your parents or your brother, but I made it to another village, and they took me and a bunch of the others in. They hid us when the soldiers came. And after Vos left and the birds came…” She trailed off. “We’re in a safe place now, but for a while it was almost as bad as when we were here.”

“And Sorcha became our drift-kickin’ leader,” a voice chimed out. “Took charge, and even the council listened to her!”

The group cheered and laughed, and Sorcha ducked her head. “I did what I needed to do to protect my new family, so be quiet, you weeds.”

Jakob took her hand. “We’re glad you didn’t make it home. We’re happy you’re safe. I’m happy I found you.”

She blushed; the pink in her cheeks was evident in the firelight. “I’m glad of that, too.”

Beatrice made a noise, stood, and left the group. Ezzy shot Ren a look that he couldn’t decipher, and Ren scooted closer to Asher’s side. Asher raised an eyebrow, and offered Ren the bottle Sorcha had passed. Ren shook his head. Asher took a swig, coughed, and then handed it off to another person whose name Ren didn’t know.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ren said. He was—in both his power and in his decisions. “I’m happy they found each other.”

Ren looked back to where Jakob and Sorcha sat and startled when he saw them kissing. Jakob’s hand cupped Sorcha’s cheek, and she gripped Jakob’s jacket; her fingers twisted in his collar. They kissed as if they were dying for it, and Ren flushed and looked away.

“Oh,” Asher said. “We should give them some privacy. Probably?”

“Yeah.” Ren nodded. “I need air anyway.”

Ren stumbled to his feet. The main entrance to the room was blocked, but next to the fireplace he found an ornate wooden double-leaf door with decorative iron scrolls and swirling images carved into the wood. He pulled on the knocker, and the right side opened with a creak. The lights embedded in the stone lit as Ren entered and wandered past them, giving the space an eerie glow. Ren trailed his fingers along the wall and followed the path. He heard Asher behind him, but Ren kept going, pushed forward by an inkling, an urge.

Come find me.

“I’m coming,” Ren said softly.

The voice insisted, and Ren followed, and the passageway guided him to another open area. The lights were on there, too. The room was circular, with a desk, tapestries, and another door, which led farther into the castle. There were chairs along the walls, but the desk, heavy and lavish, had a screen embedded in the top. It glowed, and Ren approached it warily.

It wasn’t Abiathar’s room, which Ren remembered, with the tapestry that depicted sword and sorcery and with the lavish trappings.

No, this room was plainer, not as decadent—a room of a tactician, of a planner, of a leader. This was the room of Vos, a man with a mission, who wanted little distraction as he calculated his odds, his losses, his moves.

Ren sat in the uncomfortable chair behind the desk and stared down at the screen. It beckoned him.

You found me.

Ren touched the tech, and it hummed to life under his palm. His star engaged in his chest and Ren found himself standing in a room, a virtual area, with a green grid under his feet and walls of electric blue all around him.

In front of him stood a young man. Abiathar’s voice may have compelled him here, but that wasn’t who stood in front of him now. He wore simple clothes, like a duster: trousers and a homespun shirt overlaid with a black vest. His face was narrow, and his body was tall and thin. His chin was pointed, and he wore a mustache and a patch of a beard beneath his lower lip. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders, and black, and it curled at the ends.

“Who are you?” Ren’s voice echoed, bounced around like static. The sound sizzled.

The man smiled. He waved a hand, and the light from the grid reflected from a large ring, a signet ring, black and red, like the standards that flapped on top of the towers.

“You know who I am.” His voice rang out, deep and resonate, a vibration in the virtual space.

“Vos?”

“Baron Vos. To you, though, I’m a program. An illusion. Nothing for you to fear.” He walked around the space and approached Ren.

Ren blinked and took a step back. “You’re young.”

“Not as young as you.”

“That’s not saying much.”

Vos smiled.

“What is this?” Ren asked, looking around. “Why did you want me here?”

“You’re thinking, why the program? Why am I here waiting in this castle? This was not made specifically for anyone, though there are a few of you that I wager will come back here to find answers. That’s why I left the message, why I had Abiathar record a few words to call to you. As you know, he can only compel fellow hosts.”

Ren pushed his hair from his eyes. This message wasn’t only for him. It was for anyone with power, any star host. And Vos mentioned others, more who might have been here, who looked for answers. Who else had seen this?

The virtual Vos stalked around the room, and Ren spun to follow it, to keep his eyes on the figure.

“Some of you have always known the legends that surround your kind. Others have had their origin, their legends, hidden. I’m here to educate you, to give more information for you to join our cause of your own free will. By this time, I’ve either taken over the first few drifts, or I was defeated for a time and have gone to regroup at my base on Crei.”

Ren snapped to attention. Millicent’s home world! He was there. He was there, and maybe Liam was there as well. If he had another base, another army, and Liam had been captured…

“You have been made to hide all your lives because of the Phoenix Corps. They’ve hunted you, destroyed your homes. Even now, as I am certain that some of you have revealed yourselves to them and you’re being pursued or captured. You contain the power of the stars, and they are afraid of you. They want to wipe you out, make sure no one else can threaten them with your fantastic abilities.

“You must make a choice. Stand with me, and, together, we can make sure you will never have to hide again. You will never need to restrain yourself. You can give in to your power, become what you were made to be.”

Ren swallowed.

Vos stepped close to him. The figure almost touched Ren’s body, and his presence crackled through Ren and pierced almost as fiercely as his words. It brushed through Ren’s hand, and Ren’s skin tingled.

“You could rule,” Vos said, black eyes boring into Ren’s. “You could make them cower. You could live a quiet life wherever you wanted. You could touch the stars. You could be safe. You could do anything.” He took a breath. “You could be free.”

Ren shuddered. He could be free. He could join Vos at Crei and be free. He could find Liam and run away, the two of them, away from Erden, their parents, away from the Star Stream, away from the Corps. The only thing Ren ever wanted was to be free, to make his own choices. This could be that choice.

The program smiled, knowing, but genuine. The image flickered, and Ren blinked. Vos wavered, became a blur, then focused again.

“You have a choice, star host. Make the right one.”

Then Ren was back in the chair, staring down at the console, and Asher stood next to him with his hand on Ren’s arm.

“Ren?”

Ren looked up into Asher’s concerned gaze. “Yes?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did you find in the system?”

Ren focused on Asher’s touch, clammy and warm, on the back of his hand. He focused on the cold air. There was no heat in this part of the citadel, and he had goosebumps on his arms.

“Nothing really.” He didn’t stumble over the lie. “I looked at that beacon again. We could send someone up to the tower to retrieve it. It’d be a way for the encampments to communicate with each other.”

Asher eyed him. “That’s a good idea.” He nodded at the console. “Anything about Vos’s plans in there?”

“Nothing but what that message said. To report somewhere else.”

“Huh. That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah.”

Ren stood. His middle fluttered at the pointed look in Asher’s eyes.

“You know,” Asher said, pulling Ren close. “It would be a shame to waste this secluded room in an abandoned citadel where we used to be prisoners.”

Ren laughed, his lie momentarily forgotten. “Was that a horrible pickup line?”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, it did.”

Asher pulled Ren away from the console, then backed him up against the wall, caging him in. He splayed his fingers over Ren’s jaw and tilted it up. “You’re cold.”

“Are you going to warm me up?”

“Now that was a bad line.”

Ren laughed breathlessly. “Well, you know what they say about—”

Asher sealed his mouth over Ren’s, cutting him off, kissing him softly, thoroughly.

After a few long moments, Asher broke away. His eyes were bright in the artificial glow of the lights, and his expression was not one that Ren wanted to see after kissing.

“What’s wrong?”

Asher met Ren’s gaze, unflinching. “I just… don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

The statement was so earnest that Ren’s heart stuttered with affection and then sank. His and Asher’s relationship was never going to be easy, not like Sorcha’s and Jakob’s. It would always be in question, especially while Asher remained in the Corps and Ren was a star host. That much had been proven to Ren months ago on Mykonos and confirmed along the way—aboard the Star Stream, by VanMeerten, by his parents’ confession, by the message from Vos. There would always be doubt, suspicion, distrust, and Ren couldn’t promise Asher anything. He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t burn up from the inside or that he wouldn’t detach completely, so his humanity would be lost, and everything that made Ren himself would be gone in a spark and a bang.

“You haven’t lost me yet,” Ren said. “Despite my best efforts.”

Asher kissed him again, surged forward, and captured Ren’s lips with renewed desperation. Whatever this was, whatever feelings were warring within Asher, be it hope because of Jakob’s and Sorcha’s reunion, or despair at the revelation of the Corps’ actions, or even simple nostalgia at revisiting the site where they first met, Ren didn’t know. And he didn’t need to know.

He sank into the kiss, wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders, and hung on.

It was nice to be a teenager, to forget all that awaited them outside the door, and to give in to being alone, in the dark, with someone he was attracted to, held affection for, and wanted to be with. Any ties to the program, the beacon, the citadel, fell away, and all Ren could feel was the pass of Asher’s lips over his own, the heat of Asher’s body so close, and the ache in his chest that this may be taken away from him, too.

They kissed until they heard footsteps in the hallway and hushed voices and saw the approaching glow of a light.

Ezzy appeared in Vos’s office, holding a torch above her head. Beatrice was a step behind.

“There you are,” Beatrice said, hands on her hips. “Just as I thought.”

Asher stepped away, straightened his clothes and cleared his throat. Ren smoothed his hair, but he couldn’t hide his kiss-swollen mouth or the pink of his cheeks.

Ezzy’s gaze flickered between them and she frowned, confused at first, then embarrassed when she realized what she had walked in on, and then heart-broken. She bit her lip and blinked rapidly. Her hand shook as it held the torch. Ren’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away; he couldn’t watch the tearful expression on Ezzy’s features. He awkwardly shuffled farther from Asher and rubbed the back of his hand over his tingling mouth.

“We’re setting up a watch rotation. Do you want first or last?” Beatrice didn’t notice Ezzy’s demeanor, and Ren didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“I’ll take first,” Asher said. “Ren needs to sleep, since he didn’t last night.”

“Okay. I’ll take last. Jakob can have the middle. I’m sure he and his girlfriend will be awake anyway.”

“What about me?” Ezzy piped up, brandishing the torch while flames dripped onto the stone floor. “I want to take watch.”

Beatrice smirked and messed up Ezzy’s hair. “Believe me, it’s better to sleep, kid.”

Ezzy flushed, indignant.

“I’m not a kid. I can do the job. I don’t need protecting.”

“Fine, whatever, let’s go back to the main hall.” Beatrice turned away from Ezzy and rolled her eyes at Asher and Ren.

Asher ignored the gesture. “We need to discuss getting that beacon down from the tower tomorrow. Ren says it would be a good way to connect the two different encampments and maybe find others.”

Nodding sharply, Beatrice walked down the hall, and they followed with Ezzy trailing behind.

Once back in the main room, they gathered around the fire and talked about the day ahead. Ren nodded off several times before Asher suggested he go to bed. Ren didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy. Suddenly exhausted from the day, he found a blanket and an empty spot on the rug next to the fire and fell into sleep. The chatter of the others was his lullaby.

* * *

Ren woke from a dream suddenly, disoriented. He blinked his eyes in the low light; the only glow came from the embers of the fire and the low-slung pink of dawn through the large window. His thoughts were in a fog. What had pulled him out of sleep? The rest of the group was still and quiet; no one stirred. Ren was curled in a ball next to the fireplace under his blanket with his pack for a pillow. He lifted his head and found Asher at his back and Jakob spooned around Sorcha nearby, but all asleep. Ren was drifting back to sleep when he heard it.

“Ren.” The voice was muffled from static.

Ren sat up slightly and found a comm next to his pack. He hadn’t put it there the night before, but he recognized it as one he and Ezzy had found together.

Ezzy. “Ren, please. Please wake up. Please.”

Ren grabbed it. “Ezzy?” His voice was rough from sleep and loud in the quiet. Asher stirred beside him.

“Oh, thank the stars.” She sounded strange, as if she were scared of getting in trouble,

“Where are you?”

“In the tower, getting the beacon.”

Ren rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you in the tower? We decided Jakob and Asher would bring it down. And why are you whispering?”

“Because they’re here. Ren, they’re everywhere.”

“Who?”

“The birdmen.”

Ren snapped to full wakefulness. He pushed off the blanket and scrambled from the makeshift bed. He accidentally kicked Asher, who grunted and opened his eyes, scowling.

“Okay, first thing, are you safe?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, second, are we safe?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment. “No.”

Asher jumped to his feet. He woke Jakob first, then Sorcha, and in moments they were all mobilized, quietly but quickly packing and preparing.

Jakob hung over Ren’s shoulder.

“What do you see, Ezzy?”

Her harsh stuttering breath came over the comm. “I see them all around the castle and in the courtyard. And some of them went into the keep and…” She started to cry, and Jakob snatched the comm.

Ren handed over comforting duties to someone better equipped and turned to the others. “What do we do?”

“I can’t raise Fox,” Sorcha said, her own comm in her hand. “He’s not answering.”

“Which means what?” Asher asked.

Sorcha’s mouth turned down. “They’ve got him.”

“Where’s Beatrice? I thought she was on watch.”

“How did Ezzy get out if the door was shut and barricaded?”

“We are coming to get you,” Jakob said, over the din of their questions. “Don’t worry. Stay put. Shut yourself in or whatever you have to do. But I am going to come get you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re in the highest tower, right?”

“Yes.”

“There is a good chance they won’t come up there. So you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

Jakob’s tone didn’t waver or tremble, but his hand clenched the comm tight, and his jaw clenched with worry.

Sorcha strode toward the main door, where the barricade of chairs and tables was in place. “We’ve got to figure out where they are and get everyone out of here.” She grabbed a stunner and hefted it. “We have weapons but I’d rather—”

She was cut off by a loud knocking on the door.

Everyone froze as if they were playing some child’s game. They waited.

There were voices and footsteps and the scuffle of people—and a long pause. Ren held his breath. Asher squeezed Ren’s hand. The noise on the other side of the barrier ceased. Ren tensed, his muscles taut, his heart pounding so loud he could feel the pulse in his ears. Then he heard the high whine of weapons charging swiftly followed by a bang.

The door heaved inward; the wood cracked and splintered under the assault, and the group leapt into action. They picked up bags and weapons and ran from the entrance to gather behind Ren, Asher and Sorcha.

“Well,” she said wryly, “we’re not going out that way.”

The door bulged against another loud push and clatter. Ren heard the charge of weapons and smelled the burning wood.

Asher pulled his pulse gun.

Ren reached for his power and let it warm him from his core to his toes and fingertips. He succumbed to it; his vision washed blue.

“As much as I want to play ‘last stand’ with you all right now, I think it might be better if we run,” Jakob said, prod in one hand, comm in the other.

The door splintered, and there were shouts from the other side from several voices.

Ren swallowed and poked with his star, and the ping back from the weapons almost overwhelmed him. “There’s too many. We won’t stand a chance in this open area.”

“Into the passageway,” Asher commanded. “Go. Now. Run!”

The door fell in.

They ran. Ren shoved the younger kids in first, through the partial doorway, and then he ducked in, clambering through the small space. As they moved, Ren smacked into Beatrice returning from down the corridor. He skidded and almost lost his balance before righting his body. Asher was the last in, ducking behind a piece of the door. He held onto the iron ring of the knocker and pulled it shut as a stunner blast rocketed into the wood. Splinters rained on the floor.

“What is going on?” she shouted.

“Where have you been?” Ren grabbed her and turned her around, pushing her away from the half-open door and out of the line of fire toward the wall. “I thought you were on watch.”

“I was, but then I saw Ezzy was gone and went to look for her.”

“She’s in the high tower,” Jakob said.

“What the hell is she doing up there?”

“Trying to prove herself.”

There was another blast, this time closer.

Ren readied to send a burst of power, his fingers outstretched, but Asher grabbed his hand and shook his head.

“Not yet. We may be able to talk our way out of this, and we don’t want to give you away if we don’t have to.”

“Talk our way out of this? They’re shooting at us, Ash. In case you didn’t notice.” Jakob clenched the comm in his hand. “And my sister is out there.”

“All the more reason for me to try and talk.”

“Asher will stall,” Sorcha said, tucking a wayward strand of her short hair behind her ear, then hefting her weapon. “Jakob and I will find Ezzy’s route and lead the others out of the citadel. Bea, you stay here and be Ash’s back up in case this strategy doesn’t work.”

“I don’t take orders from—” Another blast into the wood cut her off and everyone ducked away.

“I’m staying with Ash,” Ren said. He took the comm Sorcha slapped into his hand.

“That was never a question. We’ll keep in touch.”

They didn’t have time for a touching goodbye. Jakob’s punch to his arm and Sorcha’s quick kiss to his cheek would have to do. And then they were gone, disappearing down the corridor, leading the rest of Sorcha’s small group to find Ezzy and escape.

Beatrice pulled her weapon from the holster on her back. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

Asher pulled out the shiny metal tags he always wore. He slipped the chain over his head, and, with a quick breath, he kissed the twin pendants. He stood from a crouch from behind the half-closed door and tossed the tags into the main room.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“No! Ash! What? What are you doing?” Ren whispered harshly, but Asher had already stepped into the line of fire, hands raised.

“Don’t shoot. I am Corporal Asher Morgan with the Phoenix Corps, stationed on Mykonos Drift, under the command of General VanMeerten.”

Ren scooted closer to the door and closer to Asher. He couldn’t see into the room. He didn’t know what weapons were leveled at Asher. He didn’t know how many of the Corps had entered and were facing Asher down. All he could see was the profile of Asher’s face, and it wasn’t enough to gauge what was happening. His military mask had fallen into place.

Beatrice huddled next to Ren.

“Be ready,” Ren said, voice low.

“To run?”

“To save him.”

“You didn’t tell me he’s Corps.”

“Shut up.”

Asher took a step forward. There was no verbal response, but Ren heard the scrape of boots on stone, and then the jangle of medal.

“You are far away from home, Corporal Morgan.”

“I’m on a special assignment. These people are under my protection.”

“Scan these,” the voice said.

Ren swallowed, throat tight. He hated not being able to see the soldiers, hated relying only on what he could hear and the nuances of Asher’s flat expression. He was difficult to read, and Ren didn’t want to miss a tell or hesitate a second too long and have Asher injured.

“I’d like to know whom I am talking to,” Asher said.

The leader scoffed. “I’m Corporal Chase Zag.”

“How did you know we were here?”

“My scouts have been tracking a small group of potential revolutionaries for days. We lost them for a day or so, but thank you for turning off the beacon. That was a sure sign they’d made their way into the citadel.”

“They are not revolutionaries. They are citizens of this planet.”

“Anyone caught scavenging tech is considered dangerous. Not that I have to explain anything to you, Asher Morgan, since I’ll be taking you into custody now.”

“Into custody? On what charge?”

“A quick scan of your identifications shows you’ve gone AWOL.”

“That’s a mistake,” Asher protested. His brow furrowed, and he changed the grip on his pulse gun slightly. “I’m on a special assignment ordered by General VanMeerten.”

“Huh. I guess it’s pretty funny that her signature is on this order of capture.”

“It’s an error.”

“Then you can take it up with her. Now, the question is, are you going to come quietly, or is this going to get messy?”

Ren coiled his legs beneath him and called his power to his fingertips. He closed his eyes and sent out a wave to pinpoint the weapons. Five. Only five. Where had the others gone? He looked up at Asher and saw the slight shift in his posture.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Asher said evenly.

“Shame,” the voice said, closer than before. “I like it when they fight.”

Asher slid his foot slowly back. “I have no intention of fighting.”

Corporal Zag made a disappointed noise.

“But you’ll be happy to know,” Asher continued, inching gradually backward, his body clearing the plane of the door. “I do plan to run.”

Ren sprang. He jumped in front of Asher and pushed a blast of power outward, disabling the weapons in the immediate area. He grabbed the other leaf of the double door and slammed it shut. Beatrice jammed her weapon into the brackets on the back, effectively locking the door from the inside.

A loud thud echoed as a body hit the door, and the wood rattled in the frame.

“That’s not going to hold them long.”

“No. Let’s go.”

They ran to Vos’s office and through the exit at the back of the rounded room, firmly shutting the door behind them.

They were in another passageway, this one long and arched, with doors down either side.

“Oh, cogs,” Asher breathed. “How do we get out of here?”

“Ezzy found a way; so can we.”

Ren lifted the comm to his mouth. “Sorcha? Report. Um… over.”

“We’re outside,” she said, tone hushed. “Safe for the moment. Hidden. But they’re everywhere. Ren, we need help, your help, or we’re not getting out of here. Over.”

Ren shuddered. “Okay. Tell us how to get to you and we’ll be there in a flash. Over.”

“Fourth door on the right.”

They didn’t hesitate.

With Sorcha giving them directions, they found their way through the labyrinth of the keep. Ren kept his hand on the comm, leading Beatrice, with Asher bringing up the rear. After one final turn, Ren stopped and recognized the corridor.

“You should be close,” Sorcha said. “Over.”

“Yeah, I recognize this place. I know the way from here. Over.” Ren had spent most of his captivity memorizing the way from the dungeon to the courtyard, and now it was coming to good use.

“Good, because…” She trailed off, and there was the sound of a scuffle before the transmission cut off.

Asher crowded next to Ren’s shoulder, staring into Ren’s palm where the device glowed. Ren willed Sorcha to speak, to come back, and when she did, her voice was hushed.

“Hurry. We’re about to be—” She stopped, breathless, and then yelled. “Jakob! No!”

Ren didn’t wait to hear any more. He ran.

Beatrice and Asher yelled after him, but he didn’t stop, skidding along the stone of the floor. He took a sharp turn and spied the arch that led to the courtyard. It glowed with sunlight, and Ren didn’t slow down, though a Corps soldier stood in silhouette in front of him.

Ren lowered his shoulder, fully prepared to barrel into him and take him down as he had with the troops who’d wanted to take his brother. A shot from behind him rendered his foolhardy idea moot, and the Corps member crumpled forward with a smoking hole in the back of his shoulder from a pulse gun.

Asher.

Ren rushed past the body, which was knocked out, not dead, not dead, not dead, because Ren couldn’t think about the consequences of that. He was too busy. His body worked, heart pounding, blood pumping, adrenaline rushing, joints and muscles and tendons stretching and contracting. His mind ran through scenarios, bleak and terrifying, and his star swelled, infusing him wholly. When he broke into the blindingly bright courtyard, he shouldn’t have been able to see, but his vision was blue, and his eyes blazed. As frightening as was the ring of Corps troops surrounding his friends, he was more so.

Every piece of tech in the courtyard sang to him—the weapons, the comms, the wires in the stone, the pirated pieces in their packs—everything was a part of him. The power tangled within him, and he pushed out. The feedback loops flowed through his body, then outward, and back. He was a nexus of blue threads, of star, of machine, of electricity.

The Corps had his friends. Ezzy, Jakob, Sorcha, and the rest of the group. Ezzy sat in the snow and clutched the beacon; her arms were wrapped around it, and its base sat between her knees. A trickle of red dripped from the corner of her mouth and splattered on her chin, and Ren’s gaze zeroed in on the line of blood, on the offense.

He burned.

“Let them go.” His voice reverberated through the comms and boomed from the beacon, and the captives clapped their hands over their ears. The Corpsmen visibly flinched, and Ren smiled, a grim manic pull of his mouth.

“Or what?” Corporal Zag stepped forward, unafraid, his pulse gun trained on Sorcha. Then he moved it to Jakob, then Ezzy. “Think you can stop a shot, star host? Are you willing to risk it? What about her?” He lifted it to point over Ren’s shoulder, where Beatrice stood behind him. “Or him?” He swung his arm, pointing the weapon at Asher.

As the Corporal taunted, Ren slowly tilted his head. With tactical clarity, he assessed and catalogued. Scattered along the ground were the remains of the tech from the packs the soldiers had upended, and lined in a haphazard row were the force-field points he and Jakob had removed from the stone. Each of the corpsmen held a weapon or had a comm on their uniform. His group of friends huddled together, and Jakob eyed Ren knowingly. Ren smirked. Jakob smiled in return.

Zag changed tactics and leveled his weapon at Ren. “Or maybe I’ll kill you. I might even get a medal for it.” He narrowed his eyes. “All I would need is one shot to wipe that smile off your face.”

Plan firmly in place, Ren gritted his teeth. “You’ll regret threatening my friends.”

Zag chuckled, his gun arm steady. “I don’t think so.” His finger twitched on the trigger.

Ren blinked.

Several things happened at once. The force fields engaged. All the weapons shorted. The comms blasted static. Zag shot. And the group of captives scattered.

Chaos reigned.

Ren poured his power outward. The force field created a partial wall between the captives and the Corps. The comms shrieked. The pulse guns spat electricity, came alive in the hands of those who wielded them, and sparked and sputtered, shocking the Corpsmen with forks and tangles of electricity. They fell, writhing on the ground, even Zag. Ren vibrated with their screams, tasted the burn of skin and hair, but it wasn’t enough.

They had destroyed his home. They had made it so Ren could never return to what he was before. They had scared Ezzy, who was only a girl with a crush, who wanted to prove herself capable in a war zone when she should’ve been learning at school, playing in the woods, swimming in the lake, or blushing around boys. They had threatened them, frightened them, and they would burn, as Ren did, blaze in misery and despair, and thrash in pain until their veins blackened and peeled like wires, until their bones glowed like circuits.

The power flowed from him in a torrent, and he pushed it, and pushed it. He ensured those responsible were filled until they burst, until their souls were scorched out of them, until their humanity had crumbled to dust as his had.

“Ren!”

“Don’t touch him, Sorcha!”

“But he’s—”

“Ash, what do we do?”

“I can’t touch him. My shoulder—”

Ren heard a desperate sob. It broke into his concentration, traveled through the din of the static and the crackle of the air. He turned a bit, and it came again, harder, sharper.

Ezzy. She cried, and Ren pulled back. Why was she crying? He had saved her. He had saved the group. She didn’t need to be afraid.

He lowered his arms from out in front of him; his joints ached. He turned fully and took in the scene through clouded eyes, and the tendrils of power receded, fled back into his chest. Ren blinked, and the haze retreated.

Around him the soldiers lay in heaps—not dead, not dead, not dead—their weapons smoked, bodies twitched. The force field hummed, but the comms were silent. The air smelled like ozone and smoke.

And Ezzy cried.

Zag’s shot, the one meant for Ren, had gone wide. Beatrice lay in the snow, eyes open and unseeing, and Ezzy clutched at her coat with hands twisted in the fabric and sobbed.

“Ren?” Sorcha asked softly.

“We need to leave,” he croaked. “We need to run.”

“No!” Ezzy yelled. “We’re not leaving her. We’re not leaving her.”

A soldier stirred.

“Jakob,” Ren said.

Jakob nodded, his face pale, his mouth flattened in a grim line. He hauled Ezzy to her feet and pulled her away from Beatrice’s body. She fought him, but not hard; her sharp cries gave way to low, shuddering sobs. She covered her face with her hands and allowed Jakob to guide her away.

Someone groaned. Another soldier rolled to his back.

“Run,” Asher said, grabbing a shocked Sorcha by her shoulders. “Through the siege tunnel. Go!”

She moved, slowly at first, with her eyes wide and locked on Ren, but after another shove from Asher, she shook her head. The key to the heavy lock already in her hand, she beckoned her group, and they sprinted across the courtyard.

Ren followed on unsteady legs. His chest heaved. His hands shook. Asher covered them with his weapon out. It was an unnecessary precaution. With the entire regiment on the ground, their weapons sizzling and smoke curling in the crisp winter air, they were not a threat. Yet.

Ren had guaranteed that.

“But what about the stuff? The whole reason we came?” Matt asked. He stuck close to Sorcha’s side and stared at Ren in awe, and fear, and admiration.

Sorcha pushed him into the siege tunnel. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ren licked his lips. “It’s garbage anyway. I destroyed it all.”

He waited for Beatrice’s groan, her snappy comeback, her cutting remark, her fire. There was only silence, a void where her voice should’ve been. Ren looked back and saw her body in the snow; her red hair was stark against the white. For a second, he agreed with Ezzy. They couldn’t leave her. They shouldn’t leave her. Why were they leaving her?

“Ren,” Asher said, his hand gentle on Ren’s shoulder. “We need to go.”

Ren nodded.

The sound of the metal grate closing behind them echoed in the small stone space, the same tunnel that he had escaped through forever ago. But this time, as he fled with Asher and Sorcha, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly whom he ran from, or whom he needed to run to.

If this was a fairytale, or a nightmare, or one of the old myths his mother used to tell him, he didn’t know who the villain was. But it wasn’t a story, it was his life. And replaying the last several minutes in his head like a vid, he couldn’t help but think, perhaps, the villain was him.

10

When the group reached the floater, they piled in, and it took a moment for Ren to realize that Beatrice had driven them there and they would need a new driver.

Sorcha took over. Ezzy continued sobbing. When Sorcha tried to power the engine, it did nothing, and Ren realized he’d have to fix the block he’d put on it. The thought of using his star made him sick. He pressed his lips together and accessed his power, tasting bile in his throat as he did. The engine roared to life.

Sorcha took a breath. “Where are we going? Where am I taking you?”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Jakob said. He had his arm around Ezzy, and he held his sister close to his side. “I’ve found you and I’m not letting you go.” He dropped a kiss to Ezzy’s hair. “Either of you.”

Sorcha gave him a soft, fond smile. Ren crossed his arms, clutched at his body, and hoped to hold himself together.

“Ren and I need a spaceport. We have to leave. There’s no question now,” Asher said.

“Why? Why can’t Ren stay with us?” Jakob demanded. “He belongs on Erden. We’ll protect him.”

Ren shuddered. “Because they won’t stop looking if they think I’m here,” Ren said, softly. “They’ll burn all of Erden to the ground searching. You’ll all be at risk.”

“Let them try. We’ll fight. We’ll keep you safe.”

“No, no, please. I can’t… I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s death.” Ren blinked; the image of Beatrice lifeless in the snow flashed in front of him.

Jakob’s gaze flickered between Ren and Asher. Ren saw sorrow, fear, and protest in the angry twist of his mouth and the glitter of his blue eyes.

But Sorcha nodded. “I can get you close to a port.” She paused. “Ren?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, that’s good. I’m good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do the things everyone needed me to do.”

“It’s okay,” she squeezed his hand. “We’ve survived without you and we will continue to survive. You’ve brought Jakob back to me. You’ve given us a chance to unite the encampments, if not the tech. And we have a floater. That’s more than what we had.”

Ren nodded. The platitudes was an insufficient balm for the turmoil that swirled within him, but at least it soothed him for a moment.

Sorcha eased the floater out of the small hiding place on the edge of the woods. With part of the group piled in the front cab and the rest in the flat bed, Sorcha piloted slowly, carefully. She was unused to the controls, but grew more confident.

Ren lost track of time. It was an instant and an eternity when Sorcha eased the floater to a stop.

“We risk too much going farther,” she said. “The port is over the hill and down.”

“We know,” Asher said. He disembarked, stepping over Jakob and Ezzy and jumping down to the ground. Ren followed.

Jakob untangled from Ezzy’s grip and stepped out of the cab, hopping down into the leaves. “Ren,” he said. He toed the ground, leaving scuffs in the snow and dirt. “Thank you for helping me, for being my friend.”

Ren swallowed around a tight throat. “You, too.”

Jakob chuckled. “Who’d have thought I’d be best friends with the weird kid?”

Ren shrugged. “Who’d have thought I’d be best friends with the rich kid with the big mouth?” he said, mustering a smile.

Jakob laughed outright. “Come here, you weed.” He pulled Ren into a tight hug. Ren returned it heartily, holding on a fraction longer than necessary. Shared grief and a tinge of desperation were in the clutch of their arms.

“You be careful,” Jakob said, low. “And if things don’t work out with Asher, you can marry Ezzy and be my brother.”

“I don’t need to marry Ezzy to be your brother.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Jakob squeezed hard and then let go and stepped away.

Ren nodded toward the floater. “Take care of them.”

“I think Sorcha has that covered, but I’ll try not to hinder her too much.” Jakob climbed back into the floater and settled in the seat. He gave Asher a nod, then winked at Ren, gracing him with a final smirk.

Ren’s heart squeezed. They were the last remnants of his home, and he didn’t know if he’d see them again. He took a stuttered breath. “Goodbye, Jakob.”

“None of that. I’ll see you later, Ren. I will.”

Ren forced a smile. “Okay. Later. Until then.”

Jakob grinned. He patted the side of the floater, and Sorcha pulled away. Ren watched them leave, streaking across the landscape, until they were a speck on the horizon.

Ren turned to see Asher disappearing into a nearby bunch of trees. Ren followed; standing in the middle of the road wasn’t such a great idea, especially now.

Asher stopped in a small space between the trees and let out a loud sigh. He kicked a pile of snow and dead leaves. His anger finally spilling out. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m listed as coggin’ AWOL. AWOL, Ren.”

Ren leaned on a tree. He was exhausted; the last hours were catching up to him as his adrenaline rush receded like the tide.

“I don’t know what that means, Ash.”

“Absent without leave! It means I’ve abandoned my post, my duty. I’m a deserter.”

Ren’s shoulders sagged. He rolled his head back against the bark. He was cold, and his breath hung in clouds. They should’ve stayed with Sorcha and Jakob, at least for the night; the sun now edged toward the horizon.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Ren’s head was fuzzy, and tiredness made his tongue loose.

The question went over as well as a lead balloon.

Asher moved quickly, suddenly looming in front of him. “What the stars does that mean? Of course it’s bad.”

“Are you sure? Or have you forgotten the part where the Corps left you on a planet by yourself for a year. Not to mention the fact that it’s obviously not the white tower of moral right you think it is.”

“You don’t get it. The Corps was everything I had. It was my family and my home. And now, I’m cast out, a fugitive. I can be arrested, captured, taken prisoner.”

Emboldened by his fatigue, Ren pushed off from the tree and stepped into Asher’s space. “Wow, I wonder how that feels?”

“It’s not the same thing, Ren. I’m not—”

“What? A star host? A threat?”

Asher clenched his jaw. His face flushed. His fingers curled into fists at his side.

Ren circled him, taunting, devastated yet unafraid. “You’re not dangerous, like me?”

“Fine,” Asher faced him. He jabbed his finger in Ren’s chest. “You want to go there? You want to have that argument right now?”

“Sure,” Ren shot back. He knocked Asher’s hand away. His body shook with spent adrenaline, exhaustion, and grief. “Right now. Let’s talk about how the organization that you hold the most allegiance to is here and killing people. They killed Beatrice, and they would have killed you today, if given the chance.”

“Okay, then let’s talk about why they are here. They’re here because you stupid dusters can’t govern your own damn planet and spawned a lunatic like Vos. The drifts were attacked, and they have every right to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Really? That’s why you think they’re here? Because of Vos?”

“Why the stars else? It’s not like anyone wants to come to this backwater dirt sphere.”

Ren laughed. “Wow. And I thought I was kept in the dark. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

Asher crossed his arms. “So you know information I don’t? I thought we were done keeping secrets.”

Ren scoffed. “As if you’re not keeping secrets from me.”

“If I am, it’s for your own good.”

“You’re an ass. You’re an arrogant drifter jerk, and sometimes there are moments when you fool me, and I think: No, he’s not so bad. But then you say crap like that.”

“Oh, come off it, Ren. If you know something, say it, or keep your mouth shut.”

Ren shook, and not from the cold. “They’re here to hunt star hosts. Happy now? They’re here to find people like me and wipe us out because that has been their purpose from day one, and because I saved a drift. They are terrified there are more like me out there, that there are more like me here, in hiding.”

Asher rolled his eyes. “Whoever told you that was lying. Stars, you’re gullible.”

“My parents are liars now?”

“Yes. Or did they not lie to you for most of your life already?”

“They did. So what? The Phoenix Corps killed Beatrice in front of us. They chased us and they tried to kill a young girl because she had tech they wanted. You can’t deny that.”

“You’re right, I can’t.” Asher said. He turned away. “But you can’t deny that Millicent killed people, too, or that you were ready to kill when the star possessed you, that you may have killed at the citadel just now.”

Ren seethed. No, he couldn’t deny it, and the knowledge threatened to sink him. He was the reason the Corps was on Erden, no one else. He thought about the dream he’d had, about being pulled under the lake, about being held down, about thrashing uselessly, unable to change anything. That was what guilt felt like—like drowning. He bit back a yell of utter frustration. He shoved his hands into his pockets and gnawed his lip, trying not to erupt with anger.

Asher paced nearby, ignoring Ren, muttering to himself. Ren was glad of it. Maybe they would calm down and begin to think logically again and find a way back to the drifts.

“How are we going to get on a ship? How are we going to get to Delphi?” Asher looked up and pinned Ren with an irritated glare. “We’re literally right back where we started when we escaped the first time.”

“Fate’s a cog,” Ren said, his voice a knife’s edge.

“This is your fault, you know.”

Ren sighed. They weren’t finished then. “My fault? How is this my fault?”

“If you and Jakob hadn’t decided to go off on your own, I’d be back on the ship and able to report. I wouldn’t be AWOL. But no, you two had to trudge off into a snowstorm.”

“You didn’t have to follow. I didn’t ask you to follow.”

“You knew I would.”

“Yes, because you can’t let a prisoner out of your sight. Couldn’t let me get away, or you’d be in trouble with your frightening boss.”

Asher blew a breath out through his nose. He looked like a bull. “No, because I care for you and I didn’t want you to die. But sure, blame it on that. Blame it on VanMeerten and on me. That’s what you’re good at.”

“What the cogs does that mean?”

Asher didn’t answer, just pressed his lips together. He put his hands on his hips and stared off into the distance.

But Ren wasn’t going to be ignored. He approached on wobbly legs and pushed his finger into Asher’s chest. “Hey, I’m talking to you. What does that mean? Huh?”

“Leave it, Ren.”

He should’ve. He really should’ve, but he was boiling. His fury was hot as the sun. He pushed Asher’s shoulder again, harder. “You started this fight. So finish it. What does that mean? Come on, Ash. Don’t spare my feelings. Out with it. Tell me. I want you to—”

“You didn’t see yourself! Okay?” Asher exploded, knocking Ren’s hand away. “It means that you didn’t see what I did, what the others did. It means that you haven’t seen anything clearly since we left Mykonos. You’re erratic and—” Asher fought for the words. “And paranoid. You’re a ghost. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. On the ship, you barely talked. You walked around at all hours with your eyes constantly blazing blue.”

“My eyes are brown.”

“They were blue,” Asher said his voice dropping so low Ren strained to hear. “More often than not. And when they were, you just,” he shrugged, helpless, subdued. “You weren’t there.”

Ren’s heart pounded. His throat went dry. A shiver sliced down his body and wracked his frame. The lost time, the lack of sleep, the intimacy with the ship all pointed to Asher telling the truth. “That’s not…” He swallowed. “That’s not… You didn’t tell me.”

“I tried, but you… you interpreted concern as… something else. And I didn’t do a good job of showing it either. I was afraid.”

Ren’s knees went weak, and he stumbled, sinking to the ground. He sat in the snow and let the cold leech into the fabric of his trousers, into his skin. The feeling steadied him, reminded him that he existed in his body. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” Asher said. He crouched. “But mainly I was afraid we were losing you.” Ducking his head, he met Ren’s gaze head on; his expression was haunted. “I was losing you.”

Suddenly exhausted, Ren dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry.” The words came out muffled by his palms. “I never wanted any of this.”

Ren heard the crunch of snow and the thud of Asher sitting next to him. His leg bumped into Ren’s, and the body heat was welcome in the cold.

“I can’t imagine the power you have inside of you. I can’t imagine what it must be like. And I have done my best to try and help, and I know it hasn’t always been what you think is right.”

Ren raised his head. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “has been harder than I thought it would be.”

Asher looked away. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “We can’t stay here. We need to get going and meet Rowan. She’ll want to know everything.”

Ren stood and reached out. Asher took his hand, and Ren hauled him to his feet. He didn’t let go of Asher’s hand. They didn’t speak. Silence pervaded the woods; all sound was dampened by the drifts of snow.

Ren lifted the side of his mouth and managed a laugh. “As you pointed out, we’ve done this before.”

Asher’s lips twitched into a small smile. “We have,” he said.

“We can do it again.”

“We can.”

Ren nodded. He dropped Asher’s hand and shoved his own hands into his pockets. “Okay, then. Let’s find a ship.”

Asher’s grin turned wry. “Let’s try not to find one with a crew who will try to ransom you.”

Ren brushed the snow from the back of his trousers and sighed. “That’s an excellent plan.”

%

The journey from Erden wasn’t nearly as stressful as the last time. They entered the spaceport and kept their heads down. Ren didn’t spark. Asher didn’t run into any Phoenix Corps members. They found a ship headed to Delphi and booked passage without a problem. Asher’s active credit chip surely helped.

They boarded and shared a room. Ren was silent. Asher brooded.

Asher resisted sending a message to Rowan, scared that the Corps would be looking for them and monitoring transmissions to and from the Star Stream.

Ren didn’t care. He slept in the bed. Asher slept on the floor. They ate with the crew, but there was no fear of discovery of Ren’s powers. He kept everything bound tight, and when he did merge, he did so discreetly, and only to see if there were warrants for them. There weren’t, meaning the Corps wanted to keep Asher’s AWOL status a secret except in the organization.

Ren had been worried about being on a ship again, but he didn’t find it difficult, which was strange. He wasn’t tempted as he had been on the Star Stream. This ship didn’t live and breathe, didn’t flood Ren’s veins, didn’t call to him when he slept. That didn’t stop Asher from staying awake at night to ensure Ren didn’t accidentally cause an emergency, but when Ren slept, he didn’t dream. He slept hard, and deep, and woke up rested.

Asher’s words rang in Ren’s head, so he made sure to eat. He talked. It was inane chatter, but Asher barely listened, anyway.

Ren tried not to think about Beatrice in the snow.

He missed Jakob, his brusque attitude and his unwavering friendship, with a fierceness that surprised him. He hoped Ezzy was okay. He knew Sorcha would take care of them all. He didn’t think about his parents.

Now, Ren’s gaze turned from Erden and into space, toward finding his brother. He might be on Crei. He might be anywhere, if Asher’s ideas about a larger conspiracy against the drifts were true. Ren didn’t offer his opinion. Asher wouldn’t appreciate it, especially since Ren could no longer tell who was in the right. Vos and his parents had planted the seed that the Corps was corrupt, and Zag’s attack on them at the citadel only made that seed grow.

But Ren couldn’t support Vos, either. He had taken Ren from his home and had forced Ren to expose his existence to the drifts, and, because of him, Ren couldn’t live a normal life, no matter how much he wanted to.

However, Ren’s objective had remained steadfast since the beginning—protect his brother. And he would. He had to. If he could find him.

They docked at Delphi. Ren and Asher disembarked without incident, though Asher radiated anxiety. He kept his head down and shoulders up, hunched in a worn jacket that had seen better days.

The drift was as Ren remembered, not remarkably different from the other drifts he had visited: a little smaller than Mykonos, but as vibrant and loud, spinning slowly in the middle of the dark of space. It bustled with activity. People from all over brushed past Ren, knocking shoulders with him.

Asher left Ren standing in an alcove near benches and plants framing a large viewing window. The sky slid past him; stars twinkled from far away. Ships eased into docks and blasted off, leaving trails of particles behind them. Checking the drift’s time, Ren found it was the middle of their day, though it seemed to him it should be the middle of the night. He stifled a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He could use a nap, and food—he was tired of rations and stale bread.

The first time he had been on Delphi, Asher had snuck him off the ship and taken him to a buffet. At the memory, Ren perked up.

Asher approached, mouth pulled into a frown. “The ship isn’t here,” he said. “Info says they should be back in two days. I sent Rowan a vague message.” Asher looked over his shoulder and ducked his head when a few Corpsmen sauntered past. “We need to find a place to lie low.”

Ren nodded. Hands in the pockets of his trousers and long-sleeved shirt pulled down over his wrists, he looked every inch a duster. Asher didn’t look much better. They stuck out, even among some of the more outrageous of the drifters.

“I want to see Nadie.”

Asher lifted an eyebrow. He grabbed Ren’s shirt and pulled him close. “Are you serious?” he said, voice low and harsh. “Are you addled?”

“You don’t have to come with me, but I want to see her. She could have information for me. She could know something I don’t.”

“What is this about, Ren? What do you have in your head?”

“Can you trust me?”

Asher sighed. He put his hands on his hips and studied Ren. His gaze pierced Ren to his core, then swept up and down his frame, finally studied the color of his eyes. They were the familiar brown. Ren was sure. He didn’t feel as though his hold had slipped or that he was sparking anywhere. Yes, the drift buzzed around him, spoke to him on levels that Asher couldn’t hear, but so did the people, the low hum of movement, the burst of voices, the rustle of fabric.

“What could she know that we don’t?”

“The future.”

Asher rolled his eyes. “Really?”

Ren’s lips almost brushed Asher’s jaw. “I control technology. You’ve met a man who can influence others with his voice. And for some reason, you still can’t believe that she can see glimpses of the future.”

“Is there a question in there?”

Ren stepped out of the alcove, knocking into Asher’s shoulder. “I’m going.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Good.” Ren looked down the outer curve of the drift floor and took a step. He stopped, looked to the inner spoke, and then back to the other side. He huffed, annoyed. “I don’t know where her office is.”

Asher smiled, smug and irritating. “It’s three floors down.”

Ren grumbled under his breath and marched to the nearest lift. During the ride down, Ren turned off the cameras with a tendril of his power, in case anyone was looking.

When they arrived where Nadie’s office used to be, all they found was a cracked window and a torn sign. Ren peered through the frosted glass and could see nothing of the eccentric room that had greeted them last time. He tried the knob and found it locked, but at a push the door fell away from the frame on broken hinges.

The mess that greeted them reminded Ren of his childhood home—broken objects, scattered papers covered in scrawled predictions, items tossed everywhere. Her business, her home, her life had been destroyed. Ren froze; fear shivered down his spine, but he had to know. Maybe she’d escaped, too. Maybe she had been warned. Maybe there was a coded message here, too. Anything. There had to be something.

Brow furrowed, Ren stepped in, but Asher’s hand on his forearm stopped him. “Don’t,” he said, voice low, full of warning.

“Why?”

“We’re being watched.”

Asher kept his chin tucked down, but jerked his head toward the middle of the drift floor. Sure enough, two birdmen watched with interest. Their hands were near their weapons; their body armor was snug around their torsos. The symbol of their institution blazed stark red on their shoulders—the phoenix with wings outspread, talons hooked, rising from flames.

The image of Beatrice’s red hair spread out against the snow flashed in Ren’s mind, and he shook with anger. He clenched his hands, and bit his lip, and fought against the swell of power that rose in him.

“Ren,” Asher whispered fiercely. “Stop whatever you’re doing.”

Ren blinked, turned away, and covered his face with his hands. “We should walk away.”

“Good idea.”

Asher jerked on Ren’s arm, pulled him away from the broken entrance of Nadie’s office, and led him parallel to the wall, back to the lifts.

They went a few steps, then passed a dark alcove, and a hand shot out, gripping Ren’s shirt. Elegant fingers with long fingernails and adorned with jewelry tugged Ren out of Asher’s grasp and then let go. Twin red orbs stared out from the darkness, and Ren remembered how Nadie’s eyes glowed red when she used her power, as his glowed blue.

“Nadie?” he asked. He moved into the alcove with Asher a hot presence at his back. “Is that you?”

“Why are you here?” Her voice was deep and resonant, as if several people spoke at once, echoing in the small space.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Do not seek him out. Do not find him.”

Ren moved closer. In the sparse light, he saw that the elegant, ageless lady he had met before was gone. Instead, a haggard woman with glowing eyes and tangled hair stood in front of him. Her dress was tattered, though colorful, and she walked with halting steps; her bare feet slid backward along the deck plate as she drew them farther into the alcove.

Asher stiffened behind Ren, but Ren followed her.

“Why not?”

She didn’t answer; her gaze shifted to Asher. “You have left the flames,” she said.

“Yeah. Not quite by choice.”

“You will watch him cross. In your arms. After you cross him. He will leave, but don’t let go. Don’t let go. To the ship.”

“What do you mean? Who will leave? Ren?”

She shook her head and the long tresses of her black hair swung at her hips. She rolled her neck and moaned, then moved her lips soundlessly. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, and then laughed as she swayed. Then abruptly, she stopped. She dropped her hands and raised her head. Her eyes were dark. Nadie blinked, looked around the alcove, and scanned the area.

She leveled her gaze at Asher. “You again. If you’re here to arrest me, I’m not going without a fight, Phoenix.”

Asher raised his hands. “I’m not here for you.”

“Then why are you here?” She jerked her chin toward the main floor. “Are they still out there?”

“Yes,” Asher said.

She stiffened. “They’ve been there for days, since they destroyed my office, my life.”

Ren stepped closer. “What happened to you, Nadie?”

She cut her gaze to Ren. Her eyes flickered, shifting from red to black, before blazing.

“I saw them. I saw them. I saw them. I saw them.” She laughed again, wildly, terrifying. “They have come for me. I hid in the shadows, waiting for you. You have come.”

Ren stiffened. “Why did you wait for me?”

She stood motionless for a long moment, and then lunged. Ren scrambled backward, but hit Asher’s chest. She grabbed him, nails digging into his skin, and she smiled, a crooked, broken expression that made Ren shudder in her grip.

“Do not seek him out. Do not let her guide you. Find the star when it happens. Find it and be safe. Be safe. Be safe. Be safe.”

She released him and went back to mumbling incoherently. She drew her nails up her arm and down again, leaving scratches. “I had a life,” she said softly. “I had a life. I wanted a life.”

Ren’s heart sank. “Cassandra,” he whispered.

She snapped to attention and stared at him with eyes like dying embers that slowly turned to ash. She lifted a trembling finger to her pale mouth, and took a breath. “You need to leave, young star. You’re putting us both in danger.”

“Come with us,” Ren said. “We can help you. We can hide you.”

Her lips pulled into a smirk. “I don’t need your help. My alter ego may be dramatic but I am prepared. I have a plan. You must go. Remember whatever I told you. I am rarely wrong.”

“No,” Ren said. He shook off the hand that Asher placed on his shoulder. “No, I’m not leaving you. We can help each other.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Save me from idiots,” she said softly. “I am not afraid. I am not helpless.”

“No, but—”

Then she screamed and her eyes glowed red.

Ren flinched backward, bumping into Asher’s chest. His eardrums rattled as she screamed and screamed. Her voice pierced Ren’s core and vibrated there, as if he were made of glass she could shatter. He and Asher scrambled from the alcove and bolted to the side as the members of the Phoenix Corps swarmed toward them.

Asher pulled Ren close, and they left the scene.

Nadie continued to scream, high-pitched, hysterical, insane.

Ren peeked over his shoulder and watched as the Corpsmen pulled her from the alcove. She shrieked and clawed and cried. Her eyes were red as fire and her body writhed as she saw a future no one else could. Ren hid his face as they marched her away, dragged her when she wouldn’t walk, took her away from her home to only she knew where. She had seen her own future, and now it enveloped her, overwhelmed her, and she succumbed to it. But as she had in the alcove, she stopped and suddenly broke their hold. She cackled as she raced away with her long black hair a streak behind her.

With the Corpsmen focused elsewhere, Ren slammed a hand on the wall, released his power and plunged the drift into darkness for the count of two breaths. Then he brought the lights back up, silencing the panicked cries of the populace.

Nadie was gone.

Asher grabbed Ren by the shoulders and pushed him into the crowd. They blended in and disappeared, and only when they were certain no birdmen were watching, they slowed.

“Ash,” Ren said. “She hid and waited for us. They drove her from her business, her home, and she waited for us. To warn us.”

“I wish you would stop believing everything you hear,” Asher said. He pulled Ren farther down the outside curve of the drift and then to a lift. He shoved Ren inside. Asher leveled a glare at the lone occupant, who scurried out. Asher slammed his hand on the close-door button. “Turn it off.”

Ren nodded, cutting the video feeds. They rode in silence; the lift took them up and up and up to the higher levels of the drift.

“She said—”

“I don’t care.” Asher cut Ren off. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I had to help her.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“She was right before.”

“Well, she wasn’t glowing and crazy last time, was she? Did you not see her, Ren? She had clearly lost whatever tenuous connection she had to humanity. She was star.”

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t accurate. If anything, it meant she was more so.”

“Who knew what she saw? That could’ve been minutes into the future, or hours, or decades.”

“So you admit that she was seeing the future?”

Asher set his jaw. He watched the numbers tick by.

“You… you didn’t like seeing her like that, did you? It reminded you of me.”

Tapping his foot, Asher breathed heavily through his nose. “Yes,” he finally said, clipped, strained.

“She was driven to that. The Corps had obviously been watching her, and they drove her into hiding, which makes what she said even more important. She waited for us, Ash. She was compelled to tell us those things.”

“She made no sense. It was a jumbled mess. What does watch you cross mean? Huh? After I cross you? It was nonsense.”

“It wasn’t nonsense.”

Asher spun on his heel. He crowded close, pushed Ren to the wall of the lift with his body. Ren was suddenly overcome by the heat of him, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his breath puffing against Ren’s neck.

“What do you want me to say? That I’ll betray you? That you’ll betray me while you’re in my arms? Do you want that future?”

Ren shivered. “No, No.”

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t believe her. Don’t make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.” He swallowed. “Don’t keep secrets.”

Ren met Asher’s gaze; Nadie’s words rang in his ears. Asher will cross him—betray him—to the Phoenix Corps, to get his rank back, his family back. Asher had already shown more allegiance to the organization that had taken him in as a teenager than to anyone else. And Ren was… Ren was a stupid duster who had been nothing but trouble—a star host, a being who skirted humanity, a person whom people feared. “I’m not keeping any,” Ren lied, voice even.

Asher dropped his head and sighed. He nodded and pushed away as the lift dinged and slowed to a stop. “Okay,” he said. He rolled his shoulder and stepped out into the bustling corridor. “Okay,” he repeated.

Hollowed out and rattled, with Nadie’s glowing eyes vivid in his mind’s eye, Ren followed.

11

“That’s for running off!” Rowan said.

A slap to the back of the head wasn’t quite what Ren was expecting when he saw Rowan again, but he couldn’t complain. Well, he could, but it wouldn’t be a good course of action. Instead, he silently rubbed the sore spot and stared at the floor, trying to convey a mixture of guilt and apology. He didn’t pull it off, if Ollie’s snort was anything to go by.

She smacked Ren again, and he ducked out of her reach. Then she did same to Asher, two quick taps to the side of his head.

“Hey!” he yelled. He pushed her shoulder. “What did I do?”

“That’s for making me worry.” Rowan put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do with the three of you.”

“How about not hit us?” Asher said, rubbing the spot above his ear. “We’ve had a difficult week, thanks.”

Ren bit his lip. Difficult was an understatement. He and Asher had hidden for two days while Rowan made her way back to Delphi. Staying below the radar was tougher than they’d first thought. Nadie had been able to hide as long as she did because she could see the future. But Asher was an AWOL Phoenix Corps soldier and somewhat of a celebrity, as the son of a high-ranking official. Ren didn’t stand out, but the Corps under VanMeerten knew every angle of his face, and though Ren could monitor vid feeds and comm systems, he wasn’t clairvoyant.

Two days of using fake names, a credit chip, and the little charm they had, got them rooms in two different hotels. They’d changed after the first night, just in case. They didn’t leave their room unless it was necessary, and thus spent two long, tense twenty-four-hour drift cycles sleeping and staring at each other. It was maddening, especially since Ren held a secret, and Asher was determined to pretend he wasn’t aware of it.

Also, Ren couldn’t shake Nadie’s visions. They pierced him; the truth of her words sank into his bones and made him wary and afraid.

“What were you thinking?” Rowan asked, moving back into Ren’s personal space. She gripped him by the collar of his jacket and shook him like a naughty puppy. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You could’ve gotten Asher killed. And where is Jakob? I need to yell at him, too.” She whirled around, finger pointed, looking behind the pair of them. When she found nothing, she froze, and her eyes went wide. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He stayed behind,” Ren said. “We found Sorcha, a friend of ours, and his sisters. He couldn’t leave them again.”

Rowan nodded, then tugged on her golden braid. Her relief that Jakob was alive was evident. “I’m glad for him. He’ll be missed. He was good crew. But I’m happy he found what he was looking for.”

“Yeah,” Ren said, throat tight.

“And you? Did you find…?”

“Not here,” Asher said, breaking his silence. He gestured at the open ramp, at the life and energy of the drift within arm’s reach, as well as vid feeds and comms.

“Fine. Come on in. Though if you weren’t family and you couldn’t turn my own ship against me with a thought, I’d draw this out a little more. I’m still angry at both of you. Keep that in mind.”

“Your stubbornness has been noted and will be filed in the proper receptacle,” Asher said.

Rowan made a rude gesture. Asher smiled smugly. Siblings.

Ren’s stomach ached.

Rowan led them into the cargo bay, and Ollie shut the doors behind them. The yellow light from above cast them in a warm glow, though it didn’t do much to illuminate the rest of the area. After the kinetic atmosphere of the drift, the dim surroundings and the silence of the closed cargo bay were a reprieve. Ren breathed slowly. Being back on the Star Stream gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt recently. It was more home than anywhere else now, and Ren was happy to be back, happy to be in a place where he knew every wire, every conduit. It was familiar and comforting, and Ren cloaked himself in it, wrapped it around him like a blanket, and indulged in the systems that welcomed him.

“Ren?” Rowan hedged, touching his sleeve. “You okay?”

Ren sucked in air. “I’m fine. Why?”

Rowan stared at him, brow furrowed. Ollie towered next to her with arms crossed over his chest and muscles bulging beneath his brown skin. He also seemed concerned. “I’ve asked you the same question three times, and you haven’t answered. You stared off into space and glowed.”

“Oh,” Ren said. He shook his head and cleared his mind of the ever-present crackle of the comm system and the glitch in the starboard thruster. “What?”

“I said, did you find what you were looking for? I hope your insubordination had a payoff.”

“I found my parents.”

“Oh, that’s… good? You don’t sound like it was good.”

“It wasn’t really.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I’m missing something.”

“You’re missing several things,” Asher said. He crossed his arms. “To make a long story short, the Phoenix Corps believes I’ve abandoned my post and that I’ve gone AWOL. They are all over Erden looking for Vos and now us. And Ren is keeping information from me.”

Ren glared. “Your short stories suck. First, the Phoenix Corps is all over Erden looking for star hosts and killing residents because they believe that there are more people like me hiding in the population. Second, we went to see Nadie.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shot up. “The seer?”

“Yes, and she warned me that Asher is going to cross me and that I’m going to cross him. So I’m sorry if I don’t feel like sharing all the information I have right now.”

Rowan looked at them, mouth pulled in a frown. “Seriously? You’re back to fighting? I’d hoped time alone together would have led to making up.”

“That’s not your business.”

“It is my business when you two act like children and keep making me intervene. Also, when your relationship with a powerful being threatens my actual money-making business, then it is my business.”

“Can we stop saying business?”

“I swear to the stars you two will be the end of me. One of you start making sense. Now.”

“The Phoenix Corps is evil,” Ren said. He stared at the deck plate. “They killed a friend of mine. They’re looking for a way to rid the cluster of people like me. And they’re doing it by killing innocents.”

“Says your parents. Who lied to you your whole life,” Asher said, sharply.

“Says my parents and Vos.”

Asher dropped his arms. Ollie’s mouth fell open. Rowan’s eyebrows shot up.

“When the hell did you talk to Vos?” Asher demanded. He crowded into Ren’s space. His expression was flat. “Is that why you needed the beacon? To contact him? Is that why Beatrice died?”

Ren lashed out, shoving Asher away from him. Asher took a step back, and Ren followed, pushing again, with his palms flat on Asher’s shoulder. He shoved and shoved and shoved.

“Ren!”

Ollie grabbed him and pinned his arms down at his sides. Ren twisted in Ollie’s grip. His star throbbed in anger; his vision washed blue.

“How dare you?” Ren spat. “How dare you say her name when it was your beloved Corps that killed her. They killed her. Not Vos. Not me.”

“If you hadn’t turned off that stupid message, they wouldn’t have known we were there.”

“Don’t take your utter denial about your place in all of this out on me.”

“My place? What? Do you think I’m like Zag? That I went to planets and murdered people?”

“You were a Phoenix Corps soldier. How do I know what you did while under orders?”

“Do you of all people want to talk about murderers? That’s slippery ground for your kind.”

“That’s enough!” Rowan barked. Her hand splayed across Asher’s chest, keeping him in place. She looked at them with lips thinned and eyes narrowed. “Ren, stand down. Asher, go to your quarters.”

“What?” Asher’s jaw clenched. His cheeks reddened. “Why? Are you siding with him?”

“Are you questioning an order from your captain? Because let me remind you how utterly pissed I am at you and how I can have Ollie throw you back out onto that drift into the waiting arms of the Corps.”

Asher’s gaze flickered to Ollie. Ren couldn’t see Ollie’s expression, but Asher paled. Still shaking with anger, and with one last glare in Ren’s direction, Asher stalked off into the belly of the ship. His stomps echoed, and Rowan sighed. She rubbed her temple.

“Little brothers.”

Ren blinked. The phrase wiped away his anger and reminded him of his purpose. He sagged in Ollie’s arms and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Rowan waved off the apology. “Just tell me the facts, and we won’t have a problem.”

Ren nodded, and after a quick walk to the common area and after sinking into the lumpy couch cushions with a cup of tea, he did. He told Rowan and Ollie everything. He talked about Beatrice and the program of Vos and the possible outpost on Crei. He talked about the ghosts in the farmhouse which could’ve been birdmen—Rowan snorted at the nickname—and the blaring message at the castle. He told them about Sorcha and Jakob and Ezzy and about Zag and the shot meant for him.

When he finished his tea, Ollie handed him a trinket from the broke-box. Ren spun the old tool in his hands and fiddled with it as he continued, fixing it with barely a thought as the words poured from him.

He talked about failure and fear and seeing Nadie driven mad and how Asher had told him he hadn’t been much different.

He talked about Liam.

He talked about his parents, about their beliefs, their warnings, about how Asher had reprimanded his mother. He talked about the story of his kind, of the star hosts, how they’d been driven to the planets to hide. And then he stopped, throat parched, with the words drying up in his mouth.

Rowan crossed from the table and sat beside Ren on the couch. She rested her hand over his; her palm was cool and comforting on his knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Ren.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, and her hand closed over his a little tighter. “One of the hardest lessons I learned when I was younger was that sometimes the people you want to believe in and look up to aren’t who you think they are. Sometimes the people you love aren’t good people. And it’s awful. It’s hard to reconcile the image you had with the things you know. But hard as that is, the good news is that you don’t have to follow in their footsteps.”

“And you get to make your own family,” Ollie added. “And those kinds of family, the ones you choose, are the best kinds.” Ollie took the now-fixed tool from Ren’s fingers and slipped another item from the box into his free hand.

Ren swallowed. He turned his hand over and gripped Rowan’s.

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “I would say it’s no problem, but you’ve been a cog in the system since you stepped on board. And I’m still angry with you, but you do have a place here, if you want it.”

“I want to find my brother.”

“I know. And you really think he’s on Crei? With Vos?”

Ren shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think Vos might know where he is. If he doesn’t, we might be able to find a clue.”

“I’ll have to think about it, Ren. I can’t endanger the crew. Again. And I have to think about Asher, too. He’s my brother and he’s considered AWOL. We may be able to get that reversed, but I don’t know what it will cost him.”

Ren looked away. “I know.”

“I don’t think you do. Look, stars know he can be a jerk, and arrogant, and a standoffish cog. But when he ran away from our mom at sixteen and joined the Phoenix Corps, they took him in. They became his family of choice. And he needed that. So if what you say is true, about what they’ve been secretly doing for years, and with him witnessing the events with Zag, he has things to work through. You may have found out that your parents weren’t shining examples of humanity, but Asher also found out that the organization he holds allegiance to is shady and corrupt. And you know he has to be replaying all the missions he’s been on, questioning if he’s contributed to the destruction of your kind.”

That was true. Asher was probably in his room, head in his hands, eyes scrunched shut, agonizing over every detail.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to go talk to him. Hang out here with Ollie and—” she picked up a broken spanner— “fix things. Honestly, I don’t understand boys at all.” She stood and dropped the tool onto the couch. She straightened her shirt, tugged it down, and smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles.

Ren mustered a smile. “It seems I don’t get them either.”

Rowan laughed. “Idiot. Don’t worry. It will all work out. You’re both under stress, and I know from experience that stress makes the pair of you stupid.”

Ren didn’t argue, but history had proven otherwise. They worked well under duress. They clicked when things around them fell apart. It was all the other times when they couldn’t get along. Ren rubbed the end of his sleeve over his face. He didn’t know how they could go from kissing in the midst of a life-or-death crisis to being safe on the ship and at each other’s throats.

Rowan left, and Ollie moved from his position on the arm of the couch to the cushion next to Ren.

“So you want to go to Crei?”

Ren nodded. He handed Ollie the repaired spanner and accepted the next broken item. He was thankful for Ollie’s strong and steady presence. It calmed him, and the mindless work kept his star occupied while he tried to think.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? What if you find something you don’t want to? Like with your parents.”

Ren shrugged. “I want to find Liam.”

Ollie nodded. He handed Ren a part from an air recycler. “I understand. If Pen were missing, I wouldn’t stop looking, either.”

“I don’t know how I’ll get there if Rowan decides she won’t risk it.”

“Rowan has two weaknesses,” Ollie said, rooting through the broken box. “Asher being one.”

“And the other?”

Ollie smiled. “Credits.”

“Well, I can’t pay her.”

“You let me handle it.”

Ren looked up from his hands and met Ollie’s gaze. “You’ll help me?”

Ollie knocked shoulders with Ren, and Ren fell sideways onto the cushions. Ollie laughed, then shrugged.

“You’re family.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know you. I know you want to do the right thing and you want to protect the people closest to you, even if that means giving yourself up. And I know if Asher decides to expend energy and emotion on you, then you must be someone worthy of it.”

Ren blushed and ducked his head. “Even if that emotion is anger?”

“Anger isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is. He wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t care for you.”

Ren didn’t quite buy into Ollie’s logic, but he appreciated the sentiment, and he was buoyed by the fact that Ollie wanted to help him. He’d have to repay Ollie’s kindness, if he ever could. He sat up from his sprawl.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m old and wise.”

Ren scoffed. “You’re not old.”

“I’m old enough to have a younger sister who is married and to have experienced lots of things, some even weirder than you. So trust me, okay?”

“I do,” Ren said.

“Good.” Ollie looked into the box. “I’ll go add this to your pile of sellable junk. And I’ll restock the box up here for you.”

Ollie stood. He ruffled Ren’s hair, grinning down on Ren as an older brother would.

“Don’t worry, Ren. I’m sure we’ll get everything sorted.”

“Thanks, Ollie.”

Ollie waved him off and lifted the box. He left the common area, and Ren leaned back on the couch.

Lighter now that he had revealed everything to Rowan, Ren tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Sharing his burdens had eased the tightness in his chest and the tense line of his shoulders. However, he couldn’t shake Nadie’s prophecy. Somehow, Asher and Ren would cross each other, and Ren didn’t want to believe it would be intentional, but Rowan confirmed his fears. Asher had lost his chosen family, his purpose. That would be difficult to get over, even if the Corps proved to be as sinister as Ren believed.

* * *

Ren’s quarters were as he had left them. The blanket was halfway off his bed, trailing on the floor. A pile of clothes in a corner needed to be washed. His sparse belongings were on the shelf, and his pillow was a misshapen lump on the bunk.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the crumpled picture he’d found in his family home. Amazed it had lasted through the time on the planet, Ren smoothed it out on the top of his dresser. The cheap comic book Ren had taken from the remnants of Liam’s room hadn’t fared well. The pages were bent and the ink had bled, but he set it next to the picture.

Ren toed off his boots and jumped on the bed, shoved his face into the pillow, and inhaled its familiar scent. It wasn’t until he was wrapped in the blanket and staring up at the picture Jakob had drawn that he realized how much he had missed his bed.

He missed Jakob, too. The sharp pang of loss made him gasp as he thought of his friend, but at least Jakob was with Sorcha and Ezzy. The three of them would be okay as long as they looked after each other. He clung to that hope.

Ren was half-asleep when his door opened. He sat up, startled, as Millicent walked into the room. Her long hair hung in limp strands to the small of her back. Her feet were bare as she picked her way into the room, toes sliding along the floor, always connected to the ship. Her eyes were large and faintly glowing, and she stared at Ren.

“A knock would have been polite,” Ren said.

She tilted her head, watching him. Her lips were pale and chapped, and Ren watched her with narrowed eyes. He gripped his pillow with fingers curled tight in the fabric.

“Millicent?”

“The ship missed you,” she said.

“I missed the ship.”

She swayed where she stood; the hem of her dark dress brushed her ankles. “You were disconnected. I couldn’t find you in the wires, but you’ve returned. Do you feel it? How the systems longed for you?”

Ren pressed one hand to the hull. “When I came back on board.”

She took a step closer to him and then another. She pressed her face to Ren’s neck and inhaled.

Ren tensed and sat still as stone, unsure how to respond. He was used to her being odd, but this was… this was above her usual level of weirdness.

“Millie?”

“You smell like dust. Like planet.”

Ren scooted back, uncomfortable, and she followed, her knees making indents on the mattress. “I showered on the drift,” he said.

“You don’t belong with the dust. You belong among the stars. In the ship. In the wires. Free in the circuits.” She hovered over him, straddling his legs, her hands on his chest.

“Um… this is weird and inappropriate.”

“There you are!” Penelope’s voice was loud, and Ren sagged in relief.

“Pen!”

She entered the room, and Lucas popped his head around the door frame. His red hair stuck up everywhere; his complexion was even paler than usual. Ren had never been more relieved to see the goggles on Lucas’s head and Penelope’s unimpressed expression.

Penelope gently took Millicent by the bicep and pulled her off. “Now, now, Millicent. That’s not polite.”

Ren mouthed a thank you to Penelope as she guided Millicent away.

“Are you okay, Ren?” Lucas asked.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, his voice coming out far higher than he would’ve liked. “What’s going on?”

“She’s been a little out of sorts since you left,” Penelope said, smiling tightly. “It’s been a challenge.”

“Yeah. Thanks for leaving me with her for those first few days,” Lucas said, also wearing a forced smile. “It was a laugh a minute.”

Penelope shot him a harsh look with her dark eyes narrowed. “Are you going to bring it up constantly? Because we’ve apologized. Several times.”

“And you’ll continue to apologize, because it was quite a traumatic experience.” Lucas kept his frozen smile, but twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks.

Ren didn’t want to know.

Millicent blinked for the first time since she had entered Ren’s room. She looked around. “How did I get in here?”

Penelope’s expression softened. “Oh, dear.”

Millicent’s gaze found Ren and she smiled the little half-smile she usually wore. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.”

“Welcome home.” Her smile became sharper and knowing, and a chill worked down Ren’s spine.

“Ren must be tired. Let’s leave him be until dinner.” Penelope tugged on Millicent and pushed her out of the room. Penelope shared a wide-eyed, exasperated look with Ren before stepping from the room.

“Glad you’re back, Ren,” Lucas said, waving.

“Thanks. Me, too.”

Ren stood and crossed the room and closed the door behind the trio. He engaged the lock, though it wouldn’t stop Millicent if she wanted to come in again.

What had happened while he was gone? What had pushed Millicent to be stranger than ever?

He flopped onto his bed and stared up at the picture. Ren closed his eyes and relaxed into the bunk. There were so many things to figure out—Liam and Crei and Vos and Millicent. Asher. Ren didn’t have the energy, and let his mind and power drift until he fell asleep.

* * *

“Weeds, you are a hard person to get in touch with. It’s easier when you’re connected to your own power.”

The area was low-lit, and Ren squinted. The floors were metal as were the walls. The only light came from tech in the ceiling. Ren could see a shadow in front of him and walls to the sides, and when he looked behind him, he found another wall. He couldn’t discern a door.

“Where am I?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liam?” Ren stepped forward. The light overhead followed him; the darkness receded as he walked, as if fleeing from his footsteps.

A few more paces, and Liam appeared in front of him. He was fair-skinned and freckled; his red hair was slicked back as though he’d been swimming in the lake.

“Hey,” Liam said, a smile breaking over his face. “You look awful. Seriously. When was the last time you ate anything? Or had a haircut?”

“You look the same.”

“Well, I’m a projection. I’m letting you see what I want you to.”

“Are you saying you’re not well?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Ren crossed the space between them. He brushed his fingers over Liam’s hand, and he felt solid, corporeal. This wasn’t a program like Vos, and Ren looked around and reached out with his star to find the trick. But there was nothing. No tech. Even the light in the room didn’t respond to him.

“Is this real?”

“It’s a dream.”

“You’re in my dream?”

Liam smiled. “Yeah. It’s kind of my thing.”

Ren’s eyes widened. “It’s your power. Your star. You can enter dreams?”

Hands in his pockets, Liam shrugged. “I’m still figuring it all out.”

Ren laughed. “Me, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a little about a powerful star host who saved a drift. It figures; you finally leave home, and the first thing you do is save people. Good job there, bro.”

“You heard about that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Liam said smiling. “You were all the talk.”

Ren laughed, giddy, relieved. “All this time I’ve been searching for you, and you’ve been coming to me in my dreams. Why couldn’t I figure it out?”

“You’re an idiot, that’s why.”

Ren laughed again. He marveled. Their environment was a mixture of real and unreal. The metal of the floor was cool on his bare feet, but the light and the shadows moved oddly. He breathed, but couldn’t smell anything.

Giving into impulse, Ren closed the gap between him and Liam and grabbed Liam in a tight hug. Liam gasped and laughed and returned the embrace. He was real. He was real. After a long moment, they disengaged.

Ren wiped at his eyes. “Where are you?”

At the question, Liam dropped his gaze and scuffed his shoe on the floor. “I don’t know.”

“But you knew you weren’t at the lake? On Erden?”

“Yeah, I knew I wasn’t there. I’m not home. But the people who took me have given me no indication where I am.”

Anger swelled in Ren. “Took you?”

“You didn’t think I ran away from Erden on my own, did you? I’m not you. I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t hide well enough apparently.”

Ren bristled and reached for his star. He found nothing, no conduit for his power. He was useless. He deflated, shoulders drooping. “Are you okay? Have they made you do anything?”

Liam’s face went red. “Weeds, Ren. You weren’t ever this protective at home.”

“I didn’t have to be. Now, answer the question.”

“It’s okay. I have a room, a bed, and I get three meals a day. But I can’t leave. I’ve gone into people’s dreams and gathered information from their subconscious. It’s not been all that bad. I mean, it’s not what I would’ve chosen to do, but you know, in the grand scheme.” Liam shrugged again.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Yes.” The sound was an urgent gasp. “Yes. I want to go home.”

Ren didn’t tell Liam about how home wasn’t there any longer, or about their parents, or their village. It wasn’t the time.

“Can they hear this? Can they see me?”

“They monitor me, so probably.”

Ren looked around the room and focused on the light. Even though it didn’t respond as real tech would, that didn’t mean he couldn’t posture. He allowed his star to flood him and let his eyes glow blue. His power burned and pulsed in him. He clenched his hands and imagined the tendrils of electricity dripping from him, down his limbs, lighting up his bones.

“I’m coming for my brother,” he said. “Understand? I’m coming, and you will not be able to stop me. I will destroy anyone who stands in my way.”

“Weeds, Ren. Dramatic much?”

Ren turned back to Liam, and Liam took a step back, his face paling even further.

“I’m going to find you and free you.”

Liam swallowed; his throat bobbed. “I think they are counting on that.”

“Good. I want the challenge.”

Liam nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Okay. Okay. I look forward to leaving. Stars, when did you get so scary? The only fight you were ever in was when Zeke pelted us with snowballs, and even then we ran away.”

Ren pulled back. He packed away the power and blinked. “That better?”

“Yes.” Liam’s voice shook. “Stars, Ren.”

Ren patted Liam’s shoulder. “They can’t stop me.”

“I should go. I need to go before the other one shows up.”

“Huh? Other?”

The light overhead flickered, and Liam started to fade. “I’ll see you around, big brother. Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“Liam? Wait! Can you come back?

Liam waved and said something, but he faded too quickly for Ren to hear.

* * *

Ren woke up with the sheets tangled around his legs and sweat slicking his hairline, but there were no alarms. Nothing blared. No one pounded at his door. He wasn’t trying to kill the crew. That was a bonus.

He pushed up to sitting and checked ship’s time. He had napped for a few hours, though his interaction with Liam had been only a few minutes long, and he hadn’t missed dinner. He had seen Liam. Liam was alive. Liam could contact him. Liam was okay, if imprisoned. And Ren was going to find him and save him. They would be family again. Ren was even more determined to get to Crei.

His stomach growled. Ren sniffed his shirt. He didn’t smell like dirt, but he had time for a quick shower anyway—probably for the best.

12

“I got us work,” Ollie said, shoveling food into his mouth. He addressed the group around a bite of casserole.

“That’s great!” Lucas said, full of false cheer. He nodded to Penelope; his goggles slipped a little to the side. “I love work.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The group had gathered around the scarred table in the mismatched chairs. Millicent ate from the pink chipped plate that everyone else avoided, except she didn’t really eat, but stared at her mass of noodles and sauce. She delicately picked up her bread and took a small bite.

Asher sat at his usual place with his shoulders hunched up around his ears and his elbows on the table. He didn’t wear his uniform, and the stretched collar of his shirt slipped down to reveal a peek at the color of his ruined tattoo. Ren gulped at the sliver of skin, scar, and ink. He grabbed his drink and guzzled it, looking away. Water ran down his chin, and when he set the cup down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, everyone stared.

“What?”

“Anyway,” Rowan said, setting down her fork. She tented her fingers. “What is this work and where is it taking us?”

“Cargo run. Taking tech to Crei.”

Ren snapped his head up. Millicent’s head swiveled, and she stared at Ollie with her wide, unnatural eyes faintly glowing. Asher stiffened and lifted his head slowly, and Ren felt his hot gaze on the side of his face before Asher ducked back down. He idly moved the crust of his bread in a puddle of sauce.

“Do you think that is wise?” Asher said, his voice clipped. “I hear there might be political unrest there.”

Rowan dabbed her mouth with her napkin, her lips were pressed into a thin line, as her face slowly turned red. She flicked her braid over her shoulder. Her expression was difficult to read, but from the way Ollie watched her, Ren guessed that Ollie hadn’t alerted Rowan to his plan. But she wasn’t going to say that, not in front of the rest of the crew. Not in front of Asher.

She ignored Asher’s question. “What’s the take?”

Ollie held up the credit chip in his fingers. “Half paid for already. We get the rest when we get there. I already have the coordinates.”

Rowan’s eyebrows twitched. “Well then, since we’ve already been paid.”

“I don’t want to go,” Millicent said. “I left there.”

Asher stood; his chair scraped across the floor. He dropped his napkin and left the room without a word.

“Well,” Lucas said, “it seems we have dissension.”

“I’m the captain. I’ll say what jobs we take and where we go.” Rowan’s words were in response to Lucas, but they were for everyone.

Ollie had overstepped on Ren’s behalf, and Ren wouldn’t ever be able to repay him.

“No argument here, Captain,” Lucas said, holding up his hands. “I think it’s a great idea. Another planet. Wow! Who would have thought? More green things.”

“You’re overselling it, honey,” Penelope said quietly. “But yes, great. Work is good. Credits are good.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t want to go,” Millicent said again.

Penelope patted her hand. “It’ll be all right. We’ll all be there. Even Ren. Right?”

“Oh, yes, sure. Yes.” He sounded awkward to his own ears. “I’m along for the ride.”

Millicent set her napkin on the table. “I’m finished. Thank you.” She stood and lightly stepped into the corridor.

Once her footsteps retreated, Lucas sighed. “She has gotten so much weirder. Ever since we landed at Erden.”

“She needs a break from the ship,” Ren said. “I’ve been thinking about it. When I disconnected and was planetside, I could think clearer. The same may work for her. If we can get her on Crei, she may be able to… reset.”

“Is that what you did?” Penelope asked. “I mean, you seem more… yourself.”

Ren flexed his hands, feeling the smooth wood of the table beneath his fingertips. He focused on his lungs expanding and contracting, the hum of the air recyclers, the scrape of Ollie’s fork on his plate, and the scent of the garlic in the bread. And in the far off recesses of his mind existed the pulse of the electricity, the whir of systems, the living mechanisms of the ship.

“I am myself,” Ren said. “I was always myself, just a little off balance.”

“Okay,” Penelope said, always tactful. “And you think having Millicent go planetside will help her balance?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Lucas muttered. Penelope elbowed him in the side. “What? Oh come on! You all left me with her, and she went a little loopy. It was strange, and I am not equipped to deal with weird girls. I’m the pilot. I’m awkward. I wear goggles. I even tried the paradoxes, and they didn’t work.”

Ollie snorted. “You? Awkward? Never would have guessed.”

“Oh, shut up. Your sister married me.”

“That’s enough,” Rowan said. Her tone was sharp, but her smile belied any real annoyance. “Honestly. Children. All of you.”

“So we’re really going? To Crei?”

“Yes.” Rowan folded her hands in front of her, back straight. “We’re going. But we have a slight problem.”

“Another one? More problems than a star host who is acting strangely? And another one who is wanted by the Phoenix Corps?”

“I’m wanted?”

Lucas leveled Ren with a disbelieving look. “Um… yeah. You could say that.”

“That’s the problem,” Rowan said. “We have on board two star hosts and an AWOL Corpsman. The Corps hasn’t bothered them or us since we’ve docked, but I doubt they’ll let us leave.”

“Why haven’t they approached us? What are they playing at?” Lucas asked.

Rowan shook her head. “They’re waiting us out. They’re waiting for us to crack under the pressure and make a move.”

“And going to Crei is our move,” Ollie said, confident.

Rowan sighed. “We’re going to have to talk with VanMeerten.”

“No.” Ren’s protest was immediate and raw. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No. “Beatrice.”

“I know, Ren. I know, but they’re not going to let us gallivant off to another planet. Not after last time. We’ll have to negotiate.”

“Then leave me out of it.”

“Okay,” Rowan said with a sympathetic look. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Lucas leaned over to Penelope. “Who is Beatrice?”

Penelope shrugged.

Ren couldn’t take it. Sorrow and guilt rose in his gullet and overwhelmed him; he pushed his plate away. He stood, and as Asher and Millicent had before him, he walked out.

* * *

A few hours later, there was a knock on his door. Ren sighed. He pulled out of the Star Stream’s systems, where he’d been fine-tuning them since he had been gone for a while and wanted them in perfect shape for the trip to Crei, and settled into his body.

It wasn’t Millicent, because the person knocked.

“Come in,” Ren said, disengaging the lock from his bunk.

Rowan walked in. She stopped at the threshold, hovering in the doorway. She wrinkled her nose at the state of the room, and Ren flushed.

“Yes?” he croaked.

“We’re leaving for Crei as soon as Lucas puts in the coordinates.”

Ren frowned. “The Corps is letting us leave?”

“Yes,” she said.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Ren’s throat went tight. “Asher.”

“Yes.”

Ren imagined scenarios where Asher was imprisoned or disciplined. Bread and water and stew flashed in his mind’s eye, and he ached thinking of Asher in a cell again.

“How?”

“You’ll have to ask him, but he’s not in the best mood. I’d wait until later. It’s a bit of a trip. You’ll have time.”

“He’s on the ship?”

“Yes.” Rowan’s green eyes flashed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for there.”

Rowan had two weaknesses—money and Asher. And Ren stared right at a crack in her brash and confident demeanor due to the latter.

“He didn’t need to. I could’ve… I could’ve given myself up. I could’ve disabled the drift and the dock and anyone else for us to leave. I could’ve done something. He didn’t need to.”

“He did,” she said simply.

Ren swallowed. “Okay.”

“If anything happens to him because of this, because of you, I want you gone. Understand? I want you and Millicent out of my sight. I’ve done everything I can for you. I’ve risked this crew and my ship. I won’t risk Asher. Not again. I allowed it before because he cares for you, but since he’s met you, he hasn’t made the greatest choices. And I won’t allow him to die for you or for anyone.”

Ren’s heart stuttered. His stomach knotted. Obviously Rowan didn’t adhere to Ollie’s sense of chosen family as staunchly as he did.

“Okay,” he said again.

“Good. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He licked his dry lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

Her expression softened. “I care for you too, Ren. But you have to know that this life isn’t easy, and I have a responsibility to Pen and Lucas and Ollie.”

“I admire you.”

“Don’t.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not worthy of a pedestal. Don’t put me on one.”

Ren didn’t agree, but he wasn’t going to argue. “I’ll make sure the ship is ready for us to depart.”

“Okay.”

She looked at Ren’s ceiling and saw the picture taped there and the stick figure with a yellow braid and a pulse gun strapped to its side. “I miss that cog,” she said softly, smiling, eyes shining. “He would’ve made an excellent drifter, if he could’ve shaken the dust off.”

She talked as if Jakob had died, and, in a way, he had. Rowan would never see him again. There would be no reason for their paths to cross.

“He might still.”

She didn’t respond, merely nodded, before turning on her heel and leaving Ren’s room. She shut the door behind her, and Ren engaged the lock again.

Flopping back to the mattress, Ren tossed his arm over his eyes and fled into the ship. At least there, things made sense, were in a predictable order, worked in a way Ren understood.

He couldn’t say the same for humanity.

%

The route to Crei was long and uneventful. Lucas piloted. Penelope prepared. Ollie engaged Ren in a few social activities, and they worked together on the box of broken tech. It occupied Ren, and he enjoyed the comforting presence and silence around Ollie.

Ren avoided Millicent. Her behavior unnerved him. He hoped going planetside would wrest control of her body away from her star, and she would be more human. Her eyes constantly glowed now, faintly, and she moved around the ship like a ghost. Ren didn’t know what Rowan said to her, but she didn’t protest their destination again. Ren silently feared she would take action against the ship and kept a vigilant watch on the systems, but he detected nothing.

Ren shuddered to think that a few weeks ago, he was in a similar state. He was more grounded now. He tried to keep his excursions into the ship minimal, only going in when he needed to fix a component or needed a break from thinking too much.

Asher and he didn’t talk. They passed by each other in the hallways, and the one time Ren attempted to speak to him, Asher shook his head.

“Ash, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? I’m sorry, okay? For what I said. For what I’ve done. For everything. Please.”

“Ren, I can’t. Don’t.”

And then he walked away, in strides on the verge of a full-out run, before disappearing around a corner.

Ren didn’t try again.

%

The landing on Crei went as well as could be expected. Lucas did what he could, but the atmosphere and the pull of the gravity made the ship shudder and shake. The vid screen clouded with fog, which worried Ren. But Lucas was an expert, and he relied on the instruments and his skill to pilot them to the station. Ren gritted his teeth and did what he could with his power to aid the descent.

They docked at the station, a tower which rose from the landscape, stark against the orange sky. The slip was an open platform buttressed by huge metal girders, with a shed-like roof to protect them from the elements. Unlike the drifts and the port on Erden, it wasn’t enclosed.

Lucas slid expertly into the tiny spot between another merchant-class ship and a smaller planet-bound transport. The group waited in the cargo bay for pressurization, and, once they had the signal, Ollie opened the bay doors.

He covered his mouth, and coughed, pinching his nose as he stepped out. They followed. Ren took a breath and immediately regretted it. He gagged and choked and slapped both hands over his mouth and nose. “What the stars?” Ren coughed around the words.

Penelope used the collar of her shirt to cover her face. “It’s like when Lucas eats onions.”

“Oh, my stars, I’m going to die. I’m getting back on the ship.” Lucas pulled his goggles down over his nose. “Or I’m going to throw up.”

Rowan shot him a clearly annoyed look, but waved him back. Penelope went with him, not waiting for permission, and, once they disappeared into the ship, the doors to the Star Stream closed tight. Ren’s chest pricked when the on-board air recyclers kicked on high.

Millicent stepped daintily along the platform and walked across to the center tower. She hit the button for the lift and waited; she tapped her foot, and the hem of her dress caught on the laces of her boots. “Home,” she said simply.

Crei was not green, as Ren learned. Crei was covered in metal, concrete, and factories that spit smoke in the air. Black tendrils curled through the atmosphere and blotted out the orange and pink sky. The world smelled like ash, and the air tasted like metal; the bite of it was sharp on Ren’s tongue.

Ren followed on Millicent’s heels, as did the others, and slipped through the doors of the lift. The lift sat in a cylinder in the middle of the landing tower. It descended quickly, and Ren grabbed onto the wall and pushed his star into the mechanisms to slow it down.

Millicent shot him a look, but with half of their group turning green from the smell, a quick drop would probably end in vomit. The lift went down and down and down, and with the descent the temperature dropped.

Ren had learned his lesson on Erden and wore a thick jacket, but he tugged it closed and fastened it as they continued.

“Are we underground?” Rowan shivered.

Millicent didn’t answer.

Asher absently rubbed his shoulder. “I read that most of the populace lives in underground tunnels due to the pollution. Most of Crei’s surface is uninhabitable.”

The corner of Ollie’s mouth lifted. “You read?”

Asher crossed his arms. “You’re lucky I do.”

The lift reached the end of its run, and Ren detangled from the system. When the door opened, there was a crowd waiting. Ren squeezed past bodies to get out of the lift before it went up again. Ollie grabbed his arm and pulled, and Ren popped out before the doors closed.

“What the weeds?”

Millicent rolled her head. “Personal space is not a concept here.” She shuddered and craned her neck to look toward the ceiling.

She was right. Now Ren understood why she had volunteered for Vos’s vision, at least on one level. Hands roamed over Ren’s body, elbows jutted into his sides, shoulders brushed his chest and arms. He shrank into himself and pushed the more aggressive hands off, pressing close to Ollie’s side. Ollie’s size and the look on his face kept the people back, but even with the occasional force of a shove they couldn’t go far.

Crei’s underground was packed to the walls with people. Where there wasn’t a person, there was a transport, or a vendor stall, or a pillar which shot up from the concrete ground to support the roof. Parts of the tunnel were concrete slab, others were metal, and a few walls were natural carved rock. There was no view of the sky, and if there had been a viewing portal, Ren wouldn’t have been able to see the stars through the ever-present haze.

“Watch for pickpockets,” Rowan said, smacking the hands of a man away from her pulse gun. “And creeps.”

“Is there anywhere to get personal space?”

Millicent cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. “Space is expensive.”

“I don’t care,” Rowan said. “I need to find our contact and I can’t do it without getting my bearings.”

Millicent nodded. “Follow me.” A creature fluent in the living pulse of the underground society, she moved through the crowd. Her movements were a dance, and, try as he might, Ren couldn’t copy it; he bumped into almost every person he passed. Ollie, a familiar presence within the heaving mass, walked at his back. Once, they were jostled apart, and Asher snapped his hand out and grabbed Ren’s wrist to pull him back to the group. They didn’t make eye contact, and as soon as Ren was back with the others Asher dropped his hand as if burned.

It took an eternity to walk a few yards to where Millicent stopped in front of a chained-off entrance. Ren heard the hum of a light source inside and stepped closer to look around the frame. He touched the chain, and it blared an alarm and flashed a red warning light.

Ren jumped back, startled.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “What do we do?”

“Slide your credit chip.” Millicent pointed to a reader near the end of the chain.

Rowan rooted down into her trouser pocket and yanked out a chip. She held it in front of the reader. It scanned, and then the chain dropped to the ground. Millicent skittered across and the rest of them followed. A second later, the barrier yanked back up.

“I don’t like this place,” Ollie said.

“I don’t think anyone does.” Asher said, arms crossed. “What do we do now? How are we going to find anyone in this mass of people?”

“Well, we’ve bought space. Let’s go talk it out.”

They shuffled into the building and found a large lounge with sofas and chairs. Radiation lamps in the ceiling provided artificial sunlight. Ren basked in the warmth and stretched out his arms in the empty air. In the entire space, there were only two others, and one of them obviously worked there—he carried a tray of drinks.

They found a couch and a couple of chairs and sat.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Rowan muttered. “I’m certain I’m being charged by the minute.”

“We should go back to the ship,” Asher said. “We’re not going to find anything down here and we’re wasting money.”

“We’re not backing out of the deal we made, despotic governments or not. These are the coordinates we were given, so our contact is here somewhere.”

Ollie stretched back onto the plush cushions and straightened his legs. “It’s pretty coggin’ genius if you think about it.”

“Think about what?” Asher asked.

“Vos. Coming here.”

Asher sighed and leaned forward. “No, I think it’s coggin’ stupid. There’s no room for a base or an army or a training ground in these tunnels. There’s no tactical advantage here.”

Ollie shook his head. “You have a populace full of people who probably want to escape this polluted, cramped planet and would be willing to sign up for any insane cause to do so,” he said, nodding at Millicent. She merely blinked. “You have tunnels and a mass of humanity to hide in. And didn’t you say the populace lives mostly underground? That leaves an entire deserted surface for a training ground and a base of operation.”

“He’s on the surface,” Rowan said. “Cogs. He’s on the surface. Coming down here was a bad idea.”

“No,” Ren said, leaning on his bent knees. “This is perfect. On Erden, there was a message emanating from a beacon, and I found it without even trying. If Millicent could show us a place to go up, and I could have a comm of some sort, I could find him.”

Rowan looked doubtful. “This isn’t a small planet, Ren. Do you think you could really scan the surface and locate him? It’s like finding a speck among asteroids.”

“I transported a ship across a cluster. I can disable weapons with a glance and turn them against their owners with a thought. I can find a signal.”

“And what are you going to do when you find it?” Asher asked. He pierced Ren with a hard gaze. “Arrest him? Talk to him? Join him?”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “He might have information about my brother.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I will walk away.”

“Are you sure?” Asher said, tone dark. “You believe Nadie’s words. She said not to seek him out, if you remember. She said not to follow—” he stopped and cut his gaze to Millicent.

“The past is fixed, but I can influence the future.”

Asher rolled his eyes. “You’re naïve.”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“Stop it. Both of you.” Rowan’s gaze bored into Ren’s. He stared back, unflinching; their conversation about Asher echoed between them. “Ollie and I will find the merchant for the tech. You, Asher, and Millicent will find a way to track the signal. Nothing more. Understood? I don’t want you going off on your own without Ollie and me.”

Ren wanted to protest. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Ollie slapped his shoulder. “Trust us. We’ve got your back.”

Ren swallowed. “Okay.”

“Meet us at the dock for dinner. Ship’s time.” She pointed a finger at Asher, then at Ren. “Keep each other safe. Don’t eat or drink anything you’re unsure of. Don’t get involved with anything other than what you’re here to do, and, for the love of the stars, don’t do anything stupid.”

Asher frowned, but nodded.

Rowan and Ollie left together. Rowan sauntered out, straightening her clothes and checking her weapon before leaving the building and going beyond the chain. Ollie was right behind her, and he tossed a wave and a grin over his shoulder before disappearing.

Ren sat stiff in his chair. The awkward silence was stifling, and he would’ve preferred the cacophony beyond the rope. Asher continued to frown. Millicent sat blankly.

“So,” Ren started.

Millicent abruptly stood. “I know a place.”

She tiptoed her way to the door and Ren scrambled to follow with Asher next to him. They bumped shoulders. Asher glared. Ren’s heart sank. Rowan’s fierce words rang in Ren’s ears.

This was going to be impossible.

* * *

Millicent led them to a row of turnstiles. She flitted to one, trailed her fingers along the mechanism, and made it turn. Ren followed, using a tendril of power to allow him to pass. He did the same for Asher, and then the three of them were on a platform with a transport in front of them.

“This way,” Millicent said.

The doors opened. A stream of people piled out of the train, and Millicent squirmed between them, hopping on. Ren and Asher made it through as the doors slid closed; the back of Ren’s jacket caught between them. He tugged it free, bumped into several people, and stammered apologies as he made his way to Millicent.

“Where are we going?” Ren asked, grabbing for the pole next to him as the transport lurched forward.

Millicent half-smiled. “To the end of the line.”

“And how long will that take?” Asher shuffled closer to Ren as a few people moved to empty seats. Ren did his best not to lean into him.

“A while.”

13

By the time the transport pulled to a screeching stop hours later, Ren, Millicent, and Asher were the only ones left in the car save for an individual stretched along the back wall asleep. Millicent stepped to the door and waited for it to open. A comm crackled to life, and the conductor’s voice filled the metal tube, issuing a warning.

“This is the end of the line. Proceed at your own risk. These tunnels are exposed to the atmosphere. This transport will now return to base.”

The doors slid jerkily open. They stepped out. The station was dark, but not abandoned. A few people milled around the space. A few boarded the train, and others wandered, talking to people, dragging boxes and sacks of items. They wore goggles and fabric tied tightly around their noses and mouths. They had hats or head coverings, and their clothes covered them from neck to toes, even their hands.

“Scavengers from the surface,” Millicent whispered.

“Should we be dressed like that?” Ren asked.

“We’ll be fine,” she said, leading them across the station and into another tunnel.

Ren exchanged a glance with Asher. Asher shrugged and brushed past him, following Millicent farther into the dark.

Ren sighed. They were definitely not making it back to the Star Stream in time for dinner. Rowan would be furious.

They walked for several meters and the air became thicker, heavier. Ren squinted and saw spots of natural light beaming in through cracks in the ceiling. Pulling up the collar of his shirt, Ren placed it over his mouth and nose as they ventured deeper. The smell gradually became oppressive, as it had been on the landing pad, and Asher’s face grew more pinched the farther they went..

Ren settled into his power, allowed it to flood through him, and probed the surrounding area, looking for whatever Millicent was leading them to. It didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“I feel it,” he said. He walked faster, jogged ahead of Millicent and Asher.

He sensed it. Pulsing with power and electricity, the blueprint was mapped out in front of him. It was a communications tower. Its roots dug into the earth, connected to an underground grid which stretched for miles and miles, but that wasn’t what Ren needed. He spiraled upward, up and up, tendrils clamoring over each other, sizzling toward Crei’s polluted sky.

Ren skidded to a stop in front of a ladder attached to the wall. He jumped onto the first rung and heaved his body up each step, heedless of Asher and Millicent calling behind him.

He wasn’t strong enough to hoist the heavy metal cover off the access hole, but it was cracked and large chunks were missing. The holes were large enough for Ren to squeeze through. His clothes caught on jagged edges, but he wiggled until he pushed through the tunnel to the planet’s surface.

He gagged, even through the fabric of his shirt. He shielded his eyes from the sun crackling through the smog, seeming to light it on fire, and creating waves of heat that shimmered in the distance. He pulled free and stood on the ground with orange ash and gravel and dust beneath the heels of his boots. He stood at the foot of the tower, a black hunk of metal rising from the surface, stark against the sky. But as he stood there, craning his neck skyward, he was also in the tower, streaking to the top and into the console, which was soaked in the noise of the planet.

Sound moved through him in waves, crashing over him like foam and spray in the lake. It was overwhelming at first, as though he had inhaled water—wrong and painful. But after a moment, he was able to filter the information, layer upon layer, siphoning out the relevant. He sorted through thousands of communications in a second. They burst through him, into his blood, into his bones, and then were propelled into the world. He was a conduit of information, of power, of light, of plans and messages.

He didn’t realize Asher and Millicent had joined him until Asher’s hand ghosted over his shoulder and Millicent’s fingers brushed his. And then she was present with him, there in the tower. Her own star signature was a touch, a brush, against his, familiar from all their time in the Star Stream together.

And while Ren sorted and devoured information and was consumed by the funnel of communications, she rifled and hovered. He stacked, and she shoved; his organization fluttered around them like paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking.”

“You’re not helping.”

She ignored him, flitting around him like a gnat. She burst through another set of information, disrupting Ren’s process, but when she did, Ren caught a sound.

He turned his head, saw Crei awash in blue, and listened.

“What do you hear?” Millicent demanded.

Ren shushed her.

Vos’s voice rang in his ears, familiar and discomfiting. He dug through the static and the encryption—Vos was more careful here than he’d been on Erden—until he found the words. “Regroup on the west abandoned line. Beneath the holy ruins…”

Ren didn’t hear the rest of the message. He was cut off, then forcibly shoved out of the system. Millicent pushed and sparked, ejecting him. Gasping, gagging, his head pounding with pain, Ren fell to his knees with his fingers curling in the rough dirt.

“Ren! Ren, what happened?”

Ren clutched a hand over his mouth as he shivered with sweat and his stomach heaved. He bent over, elbows scraping along the ground.

Asher followed him down. “What’s going on?”

“Millicent,” he gasped. “She pushed me out. We found a message and she…” Bile rose in Ren’s mouth, and his stomach clenched.

Above him, Millicent swayed, eyes glowing, face blank.

“Ren? Are you okay?”

Ren pulled his shirt from his face and spat. Stars, he felt awful, as if a sudden illness had overtaken his body. His star curled trembling in his chest.

Millicent had done this to him before. On Mykonos, when she was under Abiathar’s power, when she was more star than human, before Asher was able to break her free. She had the ability to force Ren from the systems. Was she able to pull him in as well? Was she the other one Liam had alluded to in their shared dream? The one who dragged him under water, into the ship, during his dreams?

Ren blinked. Their plan hadn’t worked. She hadn’t disconnected when she left the ship, as Ren had. There was too much tech on Crei, and now Millicent was home, where she had learned to control her star.

“Oh, no,” he said.

Millicent’s gaze snapped to him, eyes blazing blue, and then she shuddered. She shook; her long hair tossed every which way. She stopped and stood still.

Asher moved toward her.

“Don’t touch her,” Ren said. “She’ll hurt you.”

Asher absently touched his shoulder. “Millicent,” Asher said softly, “what do you call—”

Millicent turned on her heel and ran. From one moment to the next she went from standing like a statue to sprinting over the barren surface of the planet.

Ren jumped to his feet and sped across the dead landscape, darting through half-broken buildings and flat, barren red land. She was faster; her trick had left Ren weak and stumbling as she leapt over obstacles with her dark hair flying behind her. Ren sucked in the metallic air, coughing and sputtering. The bite was horrible. It burned his throat and chest. He gagged again and bent over with his hands on his knees as he spat out the taste.

Asher passed him; his chest heaved, but his stride was fast and even.

“Come on, Ren. Even if we don’t catch her, we have to get out of this air.”

Ren nodded, wondering how Asher had been so far behind, and sprinted again. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he bit down on his lip to keep his mouth closed.

Millicent was far ahead of them now, a figure on the landscape with the pink and orange sky behind her as well as the sprawling remains of several buildings. She skidded to a halt on a gravel patch and bent down.

Ren squinted, and saw the lid at her feet. She pulled it open and disappeared into the ground.

“She went down,” Ren yelled.

It was becoming difficult to see through his watering eyes, but Ren felt Asher’s presence ahead of him, close by.

“I saw. Let’s go.”

Together they popped the lid open. Ren slid in first, bypassing the built-in ladder and falling the short distance to the bottom. He landed on his feet, but fell backward as his boot slid on broken stones.

Asher came behind him, pulling the cover closed from his position on the ladder and encasing them in darkness.

Ren sat, legs and feet aching, eyes and nose dripping. He couldn’t catch his breath. He rubbed his chest and coughed. He spat again and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. “You okay?” he croaked.

Asher was nearby. Ren heard the crunch of his footsteps and the short, staccato sound of his breathing. “Fine.” His voice was raspy. “I would be better with light.”

Ren closed his eyes and reached out with his power, looking for any tech. He found some and pushed into it, fixing what he needed, and, in a few seconds, the lights hummed on. The tunnel lit up and he peeked to find a long line of embedded rope lights in the ceiling following the length of the tunnel.

“It’s an abandoned transport tunnel,” Asher said.

Ren stood. He brushed off the dirt, wiped his face again, and glanced at Asher. He looked as bad as Ren felt. His eyes were bloodshot, and his blond hair looked brown and streaked from the dirt. Tear tracks stained his cheeks.

Asher looked at Ren; his expression seemed concerned. His stomach full of sparks, Ren bit his lip as Asher swept his gaze along Ren’s frame. Finding him uninjured, Asher’s unease disappeared, and the flat affect he had worn since Erden slid into place.

Ren’s heart sank. He swallowed and turned his attention to the tunnel. It had obviously been abandoned for a long time. The tech was old and dusty, corroded in a few places, and the interior was just as bad. Boulders and rocks littered the tracks, water had gathered in puddles in a few places, and they heard squeaks of local creatures. Even with the glow of the lights above them, the gloom was thick, but the at least the air was clean. Air recyclers were on somewhere.

“She went this way,” Ren said, tripping his way down the dark tunnel. He stumbled over a large rock and caught himself on the carved wall.

Asher caught his bicep and steadied him. He panted, his breathing staccato. “How do you know?”

“I can feel her star.”

“We should find a way back to Rowan,” Asher said, but he didn’t stop feeling his way down the tunnel. “There has to be a connection to a running track.”

“And leave Millicent to run to Vos? Who knows what she’s thinking. She could tell him where I am and who I’m with. She could be confused. I don’t know.”

“She’s slipped, Ren. You know that. She’s worse off than Nadie was.”

“Yeah, and I felt guilty enough leaving Nadie. I don’t want Millicent to be that way too.”

“You can’t save everyone, Ren. You never could.”

Ren jerked his arm away from Asher’s grasp. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Apparently, I do.”

“Then leave, Ash. Leave and find a way back. I’ll join you later if I can.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Why? There’s no reason for you to stay. You’ve made that clear.”

Asher made a hurt noise. “You’re a cog, you know that?” he said, voice thick and strange. “I have every reason.”

Ren huffed. He ducked under a leaning and broken support, shuddering as he imagined what might happen if the pillar gave way completely. The farther they journeyed, the more Ren understood the reasons for abandoning this particular tunnel. A cave-in was imminent, judging by the sagging supports and the debris littering the ground.

“We pick the worst times to argue,” Ren said, following a curve in the tracks.

“I’m not arguing.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “No, you’re being yourself.”

“Ren,” Asher said, voice low, “did you ever think about how we were able to leave Delphi?”

Ren’s throat went tight. “I thought about it a lot, and I decided that if you didn’t want to tell me, then I didn’t want to know.”

“You’re a powerful being who the Phoenix Corps wanted under their control. I was considered AWOL.”

“Was considered?” Ren asked. Then he stopped, the realization sudden. “You gave them you.” He turned to look at Asher, really look at him. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Why have I done anything since the prison cell?”

Ren’s heart ached. “I don’t—”

“You!” Asher threw his arms out to the side. “You. Okay. Telling VanMeerten about your nightmares got you back home. Following you and Jakob in the snowstorm was to ensure your safety. Revealing myself to Zag was to give you time to escape. And yes, I gave them me.”

Ren crossed the space between them and grabbed Asher in a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders, and Asher clutched him back, clenched his fists in the fabric of Ren’s jacket.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Your year was almost up, and you gave them more time.”

Asher nodded curtly. “Yes. Among other things.”

“What other things? What else did they want? Ash?” Ren stepped back and grabbed Asher’s hand. “What else?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer. The high whine of charging weapons interrupted them, and Ren cursed himself for missing the ping of tech so nearby. He turned to find a group of soldiers leveling weapons at them; the red slash of the Baron’s standard was on their shoulders.

Reeling from the revelation, Ren swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Well, we found him,” he said, holding up his hands.

Asher sighed.

“Take me to Vos.” Ren demanded, sticking out his chin.

“Why should we?”

Ren let his eyes glow blue. “He’ll want to talk with me.”

“Holy stars,” one of them whispered. “Two in one day.”

Ren shared a glance with Asher before he was pushed forward; the end of the stunner was a blunt force between his shoulder blades.

“Get going.”

They walked. One of the guards took point, and Ren and Asher followed with the others trailing behind them. For once, Ren wasn’t afraid. This was what he wanted. He had Asher at his side. He could disable the weapons if needed. And he was going to finally talk to Vos.

They took a turn into an offshoot of the track, a narrower arched hallway, which widened into a larger space. It looked as though it was once a control center and was filled with screens and maps of the tunnels. On the map, Ren noted they were much closer to the tower where the Star Stream was docked than he had realized. Ren slowed, noting the pattern of the map and their position, before receiving a poke in the back to keep going. They went through another doorway.

The platform had been cleared, though a few turnstiles remained. There was a stone raised area and on it sat a shabby throne.

Vos sat there, legs crossed, hunched over. He rested one elbow on his raised knee; his chin was in his hand. His black hair was shorn close to his head, different than at the citadel, but it was him. He wore an outfit similar to the ones Ren had seen on the people of Crei—long sleeves and pants and boots, simple and dark, though a red slash adorned his shoulder—a mark of his standard. He seemed bored, with a blank expression on his thin face, but his sharp gaze landed on Ren and Asher. While he didn’t seem surprised, a slow smile spread across his lips.

Standing at the base of the throne was Millicent, surrounded by troops with weapons trained on her; she didn’t appear to be in any distress.

“Millie,” Ren called. She lifted her head, eyes glowing, long hair falling in her face. “Come here.”

She tilted her head; the movement was oddly slow. She paused, then she tiptoed away from the circle of soldiers, joining Ren’s side unhindered.

Vos clapped. The noise startled Ren and echoed in the underground cavern.

“That was almost as impressive as Abiathar, and you didn’t even need to tap into a star to do it. But between you and me, your ability is a little more extraordinary than mere suggestion.”

Asher stiffened beside Ren. He took a step forward, shielding Ren with his body. But Ren didn’t need protection, not from this man.

“Where is my brother?” Ren called.

Vos laughed. “Straight to the point. I like you.” He jumped down from the raised dais, and his black boots scuffed on the stone. He didn’t come closer, but leaned back on his elbows. “You’re the one who escaped and foiled my designs for Mykonos. I really should kill you. You’ve set me back quite a bit, but I have other plans.”

“I’m not interested in your plans,” Ren said. “I want to know where my brother is. He disappeared in one of your raids on our village.”

Vos shrugged. “He could be anywhere. I’m certainly not the only one interested in your kind.” He leveled a gaze at Asher. “But you know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asher said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Vos laughed at the obvious lie. “So you didn’t send a message to the Phoenix Corps? About half an hour ago? It left from the same console that your friend here used to scan for my beacon.”

Asher frowned. He didn’t answer; his lips were thin.

“You didn’t,” Ren whispered, turning to study Asher’s face. “Did you?”

Asher’s jaw clenched so tight Ren swore he heard his teeth grind together. “I told you. They wanted me among other things.”

Ren took a step to the side, betrayed. And he stared at Asher with disbelief. “You used me.”

Asher’s façade dropped, and he paled, looking stricken. “No. No, it was for your freedom. Me and Vos for you. That’s the deal.”

“I’m not going peacefully,” Vos said, with a wave of his hand. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll have two technopaths to cover me while we escape.”

Shocked, Ren took another step and wobbled. Asher reached out to steady him, and Ren knocked his hand away.

“No.” Ren said to Vos. “I’m not going with you.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Vos said. “Think about it, Ren. That’s your name, right? Ren?”

Ren nodded. He heard the question, but his thoughts were a blur. Asher had crossed him, as Nadie said. Asher had betrayed him.

Now it was his turn. In this future, the one Nadie had seen, Ren would cross Asher as well, but Ren bucked against it.

He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

“What you have to decide, Ren, is if you want to join with me and have your freedom to fight against the Corps or stay here and be captured again. You grew up on Erden. You grew up with choices. You have dust ingrained in your bones. You may be a star, but you are of dirt. You will never be anything but an oddity to the drifters and to the Corps. Do you want that? To be under the control of a military which would see your village, your family, burn?”

Ren’s chest heaved. His mouth went dry. “No.”

“No. No one would. Come with me,” Vos said, holding out his hand. “Come with me. Escape, and together, we can show the drifts what you’re really made of.”

Ren swallowed.

Millicent turned to him. Her fingers brushed his hand; her touch was searing. “I’ve watched you,” she said, voice soft, seductive. “I’ve watched you struggle with what you are. You can’t be star and flesh. You can’t be both. It will destroy you. You will burn up from the inside until your skin is ash and your bones brittle.”

“I… I…”

“Embrace what you are. They can’t protect you from yourself. Let go.”

Ren shuddered. “It was you,” he whispered. “You pulled me into the ship. You influenced me, made me do all those things in my dreams. You made me almost hurt the crew.”

“I helped you unlock your power. I helped you shed your restrictive shell.”

Ren swallowed. “You’re a star.”

“Yes, and you are too. Come with us. Be happy. Be what you were made to be.”

Ren took a step, swayed toward Millicent’s outstretched hand. “I… I don’t know.”

“Ren, don’t,” Asher said. “They aren’t telling you everything. It’s a trick.”

“I’ve watched you,” Millicent said again. “In the ship, you are free. In the wires, in the circuits, you are happy.”

I watched you. Ezzy had told him that too. She had watched him, in the fields, in the village, but he wasn’t happy there. He remembered longing for a better life, for more.

“We don’t have much time before the Corps invades our little sanctuary. The choice is yours, but make it quickly.”

Millicent crossed the room with her back turned to Ren and Asher. She took Vos’s hand, twining their fingers.

“I am made of stardust. I don’t belong in the ground.”

“No, you don’t, little star.” Vos smiled at her and then lifted his gaze to Ren, questioning. “Come on, Ren. Leave this birdman to his flock. You belong with us.”

Ren shuddered. Vos was right. If he stayed, he’d fall under VanMeerten’s control again. There would be check-ins and panic attacks and the threat of Perilous Space. If he left, he might have a chance to find Liam. He would be free to make choices.

“Ren, don’t be a duster idiot. His freedom comes with a price. He’s going to use you to kill people, to destroy the drifts. Are you willing to pay that? Do you think he’ll let you leave if you want to? What about Liam?” Asher pleaded. He didn’t reach out; he was hindered by the soldiers standing between them, but he begged.

Ren looked around. Vos’s people surrounded Asher; their weapons were trained on him.

“Liam’s not here,” Ren said. His voice choked. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. He blinked, and they spilled. “I can’t do this.” His hands shook, and he flexed them. “You won’t hurt him.” He said, addressing Vos, gesturing toward Asher. “You’ll let him go.”

Vos bowed at the waist. “Of course. You have my word.”

“Ren.” Asher’s voice broke on his name.

Ren took a step.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Asher said, words spilling out. “I didn’t want to leave you, but I knew I’d have to in order to keep you free. I thought it would be easier for both of us, but I was stupid, okay? I was the idiot. Don’t go.”

Ren wavered. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t decide. It was too much. But no, he’d chosen his family when he left Erden. He’d chosen Rowan and Ollie and Penelope and Lucas and Asher.

Asher had protected him the entire time. He didn’t want to leave him. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, then wrapped them around his stomach, holding himself together. His body trembled. His pulse raced. He felt as if he would quake apart.

He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t stay.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet.

“We’re out of time, lads.” Vos nodded toward his small group of soldiers. “He’s coming with us, choice or not. Grab him.”

They swarmed Ren, pinning his arms to his sides. They jerked his hands behind his back to bind them. No. No! He chose Asher. Ren fought. He squirmed and kicked, clawed and scratched. Asher shouted, pushing his way toward Ren, but there were too many bodies between them.

Above them, the ceiling cracked. Pebbles rained down. Large rocks fell, landing near where Asher and Ren struggled. The tunnel shook, and, with a blast, the rock opened to the sky.

Ren reached for his power, allowed it to flood him, and he drowned in it. The tech which surrounded him pinged in his senses. He flashed into the weapons of Vos’s soldiers and into their comms, and pushed. Blue sparks gathered like fireflies caught in a wind, crackling like lightning. A thick tension hung in the air, a gathering storm of potential. Ren drew everything in; static and strength coursed through him, until he was full of energy and light and power. His star was a second heartbeat, alive with promise, and it consumed him.

It burst from him with a yell—an explosion of blue fire, sizzling down Ren’s arms—and the men around him fell away, blown like leaves in a whirlwind.

The tunnel shuddered with the uniform stamp of feet and the whir of transports now hovering above them in the toxic air. Pieces of the tunnel fell in. Corpsmen swamped the area, filling the vast space with more bodies and tech and sound. Vos’s troops, the ones still standing, fired back.

And in the middle of it all, Ren lit up like a star—fire and electricity pulsed out like the slap of waves on the shore and with the fury of a hurricane.

Vos and Millicent were gone. They disappeared from Ren’s periphery. Millicent’s signature faded as they ran, abandoning their people to the chaos.

Ren didn’t care. He focused like a laser on those around him. Everyone was an enemy. Everyone was a threat. Everyone should cower. They were nothing in the face of a living star, and they would burn in his presence, they would fall to their knees as cinders.

Watch out. He’s a technopath.

Get the weapon.

Ren, get down!

The chatter washed over him, joined the cacophony of sound and taste and touch as Ren fused with all the tech around him. He set comms to static and let loose a scream of white noise. Lights popped, raining sparks. Weapons disassembled. Transports fell to the ground. The ceiling caved.

Chaos reigned, and Ren was king.

A sharp crack pierced through the static and the power. Ren was snapped back into his body. He swayed on his feet. His eyes were half-lidded, as he stared at the destruction he’d wrought. Bodies, wreckage, and tech lay around him in the blast zone, but the hum of the tech was absent. He was disconnected from it all. Strangely, he didn’t reconnect with his body as he usually did, as if there was another way for his body to not to feel like his own.

Zag stood a few feet away with an ancient weapon in his hand; smoke swirled from its barrel. Ren watched the wreath of gray as it dissipated, feeling as if he could follow, disappear into the ether like a ghost.

Asher stared at him with wide green eyes and an open mouth. He looked ridiculous. Ren wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t because he had no air. He swallowed and gagged at the hot metallic taste on his tongue.

Ren swayed again. Fiery pain bloomed from his side. It spread; sizzling agony swept through his nerves, engulfed him, lit him up in a way he’d never experienced. It wasn’t blue, like his power, but orange and red like flames. With a trembling hand, Ren touched the wound and raised blood-stained fingers.

“Oh,” he said.

Then his legs gave out, and he fell like rubble.

14

The ground beneath Ren was hard and cold. The colors leached away, leaving the world grey as he stared at the cracked sky.

“Ren,” Asher was at his side, cradling his face in shaking hands. “Cogs, Ren. What did they do?” Asher pushed down on Ren’s wound and it sparked another fire, but it was weak, sputtered out, and left Ren cold. “What the hell did he shoot you with?”

“Ash,” Ren said, voice thick. “What?”

“Don’t talk. Don’t talk.” Asher was frantic, barking at people, yelling—but his hands didn’t leave Ren’s body. Ren couldn’t feel Asher’s touch anymore. He missed it with an ache almost as sharp as the wound.

He was freezing. And then he laughed. Nadie. Asher had crossed him. But Ren would cross while in Asher’s arms.

“What’s so funny?” Asher asked. His voice was steady in the encroaching dark, but there was underlying fear—always fear.

“Nadie,” Ren choked. “Crossing.”

Realization, panic, and guilt flickered over Asher’s expression, until it landed on determination.

“To the ship,” he whispered. “To the ship. Hey! I need a transport. I need…”

Ren’s eyes fluttered shut, and he drifted. The sharp taps on his cheeks and the urgent voice weren’t important, and they were far away… so far away.

Noises. Voices. Movement.

Ren groaned when he was lifted; his body shuddered of its own accord. The pain was enough to rouse him. He stared up at the underside of Asher’s jaw, where blond stubble caught the low light of wherever they were. They moved too fast, and the scenery blurred. Ren closed his eyes again; the jumble of sensation was too much.

“You stay with me. Okay? You can’t get out of fighting with me by dying.”

Ren smiled, then went limp again.

What happened? Ash, what happened!

Help me get him to the ship.

Stars! Ollie! Ollie, open the bay doors! And get Pen!

Ren stirred when they crossed the threshold into the ship; the Star Stream welcomed him, enveloped him in the warmth of its embrace. He tried to move, to alert Asher, but his body wouldn’t respond. His power swelled in his chest, reminding him he was more than human, more than flesh.

Can you save him?

I don’t know what… is that a bullet?

What the stars happened? Where were you two?

Put him there. Out of the way. I’ll do what I can, but he’s lost so much blood.

Are you okay, Ash? Are you hurt?

No. No, I’m… fine. Save him, please.

Hand me that! Where did they get a bullet for stars’ sake?

This was their only option to stop him.

Why did they need to stop him? Ash?

Ren’s hand fell off Penelope’s table when she jostled him. His fingers grazed the hull. He didn’t hesitate. He fled the pain and the turmoil. He fled his unresponsive body. He fled the phantom sensations of needles and hands.

He’s still bleeding.

I’m doing the best I can. I don’t know…

He fled toward safety. He fled into the ship. Ren dissipated into the ether, into the circuits, into the wires. There, he was happy. There, he was safe.

He’s gone.

%

Ren watched from the vid feeds. He stared down at the figure on the cot, hooked up to machines, pale and small under blankets.

Someone sat next to the bed… someone… someone Ren knew. Asher. Asher sat next to the bed and held Ren’s limp hand clasped in his own, mumbling words that didn’t make sense. His blond head was bowed; his lips were pressed to his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry. What have I done? What have I done?”

Ren switched feeds, crossed the room, found another angle. He sat watching. Time ticked by, calculable down to the millisecond, not measured in moments or feelings, which were inconsequential to him now. All that mattered was the ship and the systems, operations and electricity and data.

“I have to leave. Pen is going to watch over you. And Rowan. And Lucas. Ollie, too, if he can stand to. He’s upset.”

The lights flickered. A short in the mechanism, but Ren didn’t rush to fix it. Why did Asher need to leave? He shouldn’t leave. Ren didn’t want him to leave.

A woman—Rowan, her name was Rowan—walked into the room. She lightly touched Asher’s shoulder. “They’re here for you.”

Asher gently placed Ren’s hand back on the table and tucked the blanket tighter over the body.

“Watch him.”

“You know he’s going to come looking for you when he wakes up. It’ll be the first thing he’ll want to do.”

“I don’t know about that. I betrayed him.”

“You were protecting him. He’ll understand.”

Power surged in the bay door mechanism; the lock stuck. People waited outside, dressed in uniforms, ornate birds on their shoulders—Phoenix Corps. Ren hesitated for half a second before fixing the glitch and allowing them entrance.

Rowan grabbed Asher in a hug, and they embraced tightly.

“We could run,” she whispered. “They think he’s dead. They wouldn’t follow. And if they did they’d never find us.”

“They would. And they’d figure out he’s still alive and they would take him. And they’d hurt you and the crew.”

She nodded, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Take care, little brother.”

“You, too.”

They parted.

Asher left.

Following him, Ren jumped to another feed and watched the bent figure walk down the corridor and into the bay. The group of soldiers waited for him. They surrounded him and escorted him out of the ship.

We’re departing for Mykonos.

Aye, captain.

Stars and space.

We’ve got work.

Minutes. Seconds. Hours.

New coordinates.

Another drift.

A dock.

Space and stars.

Credits.

Coordinates. Route set.

A malfunction. Fixed.

A message.

Seconds. Hours. Minutes.

Wake up, brother! Wake up.

Ren gasped when he woke. His back arched off the metal; his mouth and eyes were open. His muscles pulled taut for a long moment before he flopped back to the table, exhausted. He breathed, lungs aching, body shivering from the influx of adrenaline and from the frigid air. He weakly raised his head.

The ship was dark. And Ren was alone.

Book Three: Zenith Dream

“The history of liberty is a history of resistance.”

—Woodrow Wilson

Some readers may find some of the scenes in this book difficult to read. We have compiled a list of content warnings, which you can access at www.interludepress.com/content-warnings

1

Wake up!

Ren snapped his eyes open and gasped. His back arched, and his body pulled taut, suspended in air by his shoulders and heels, before he flopped back to a hard surface. He gulped in oxygen. Wheezing, his lungs ached. His body shivered from the influx of adrenaline and from the frigid air; goosebumps bloomed over his skin. He weakly raised his head.

He was alone. The ship was dark, lit only by emergency lights. Ren pushed to a sitting position with trembling arms; his muscles were feeble. His chest heaved, his breath puffed out in clouds in front of his face, and the blanket that covered him fell and pooled into his lap. Bent forward, Ren grasped the bed railing next to him, and the cold metal burned against his palm.

Was this real? Or was it another dream with sense memories so stark they fooled him? Was he awake this time? Was he in the ship?

The bed beneath him was hard and unforgiving; a thin mattress was all that separated him from a flat slab of metal. He smelled of antiseptic and sweat. A thin tube, currently attached to nothing, stung in the crook of his arm. He rubbed his chest; the scratchy fabric of medical scrubs pulled across his stomach, caught on something, and tugged uncomfortably on his skin. Possibly not a dream—too many sensations.

Brow furrowed, Ren lifted the hem of his shirt. White tape and gauze crisscrossed a spot far left of his navel and above his hip. Tentatively, he pulled at the bandages to reveal a dark, bloody, and scabbed wound: a jagged circle of flesh, not quite healed, but not angry and new. Starbursts of yellow and green and brown spread outward from it and bled up his torso in a sickly, painful bruise.

Ren slammed his eyes shut and sat awash in memories that scrubbed him raw, caused bile to crawl up into his throat, and sent his heart pounding. Pain and smoke and rubble. Falling, the Corps, and Asher amid the chaos. Crei and Millicent and Vos and Asher trying to save him. Prophecies and blood and dreams of Liam and Asher leaving. He pushed his hand against the gunshot wound, smoothing the tape with unsteady fingers.

Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it.

Hunched over, he reached out with his star, and the familiar signature of the ship welcomed him, calmed him, and staved off the impending panic. He didn’t recognize this bed or this blanket or the room he was in, but he was on the Star Stream. He was safe on the ship, in the ship, but for now he resisted the urge to flee into the circuits.

He was awake: a state of being he hadn’t thought he would achieve again.

He’d watched, of course. He’d been detached from it all, within the confines of circuits and switches and vid screens. He’d heard the messages on the comms, the disagreements about what to do, the times Rowan cried in her room, and when Ollie stalked the cargo bay. He’d seen Pen brush his dark hair from his forehead and Lucas pilot with bloodshot eyes. At other times, everything was black and muted, as if he was at the bottom of the lake and all his sensation was filtered through the water: sound and touch distorted by pressure and movement, sight blurred by currents and shadows. Still other times, he’d dreamed nightmares and visions so real he’d thought for certain he was awake, only to be plunged back into the depths of his body or sent scurrying for safety into the signals that sparked between relays.

Ren opened his eyes. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and shook his head, trying to ease the fog in his brain. Everything was vague and strange. He had spent an indeterminate amount of time transferring between the ship and his comatose body, and his ability to perceive and process wasn’t quite aligned.

“Hello?” his voice cracked in his throat. “Anyone there?” The words were clumsy in his mouth, and the raspy sound petered out into a breathy whisper.

Where was everyone? How long had he been asleep?

The Star Stream was powered down; reserve lights gave a gentle glow, and the core systems hummed softly, lazily, as they drew power, not from the engines, but from a power source beyond the shiny bulkhead. They were docked on a drift, but not one Ren recognized. The unfamiliar tech buzzed hazily in the back of his head. The noise was not nearly as loud as Mykonos or Delphi, indicating the drift was smaller.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ren gingerly stepped down and hissed as the pad of his foot touched the cold deck. Keeping his grip on the bedrails, he slid farther, pressed more weight against his feet. His atrophied legs clenched, and he hobbled like the newborn lambs on Erden. After a few tense moments, he steadied enough to fully straighten.

Ren grabbed the blanket and draped it over his shoulders. Unsure but determined, he lurched from the bed to the wall, stumbled, and clung to the doorframe. His body shook as he moved through the opening and found himself in the hallway through the crew quarters. Taking stock, Ren realized he’d been in Ollie’s room, while his own was farther down the hall. But where was Ollie? Where was Rowan? Or Lucas? Or Penelope?

Stars, he was addled. Splaying his hand against the wall, he entered the ship and swept along the vid screens and the comm system. No one was onboard, not even Lucas who tended to stay with the ship. He scanned the ship’s messages, and the last received was to Rowan, which stated a date and a time and a location. A coordinated exchange—Rowan was still doing business?

Ren flinched at the date. Six weeks had passed since Crei. He’d been asleep for six weeks. Asher had been gone for that whole time. Where was he? Why hadn’t Rowan found him?

He disengaged from the ship and slid to the floor; the wound in his side twinged, reminding him of the reason he’d been asleep for so long. He gauged the small progress he’d made down the hall and sighed. Settling back into his body would be difficult, especially if being corporeal meant being trapped in flesh that didn’t want to obey him and moved slowly. Already he was exhausted, and hunger gnawed his stomach. He touched the tube in his arm, and wondered if that was how Penelope had kept him alive.

Wrapping up in the blanket, Ren sent a blast of heat to his location, enough to warm the air and to stop the shivers that traveled up his body. Content to rest until his friends returned, he let his eyelids droop.

Would they be surprised to see him? Would they be happy that he was finally awake? Would they turn him away once he was stronger?

No. They wouldn’t, and doubting them was an insult to the loyalty and kindness they’d shown him. He banished the thoughts, recognizing them for the poison they were. If only he’d recognized Asher’s devotion when he’d had the chance.

Asher.

Ren’s heart seized. He’d screwed up. He’d pushed Asher away and now he was gone. He could only wonder what he was doing now. Was he being punished for being AWOL? Was he being lauded for killing the star host who had attacked them on Erden? Did he think of Ren at all? Fondly? Indifferently? Ren swallowed around the lump in his throat. His only choice was to make it right. To fix it. And he would. If it cost him his last breath, he’d talk with Asher one more time and do what he could to make everything right between them. Whatever it took, he’d do it, because he needed Asher, because his feelings for Asher were deep and affectionate and like nothing he held for anyone else.

With that decided, Ren drifted, on the edge of sleep, cozy and gradually warmer wrapped in a blanket on the deck plate. He dreamed about an orange sun and a sandy shore and a clear blue lake. He dreamed about splashing in the froth and the green canopy of trees and a breeze that ruffled his hair.

As he slipped deeper into his doze, a disturbance shook him awake. He startled, eyes sliding open. Someone approached the ship from the drift, and their presence bristled over Ren’s skin; his power alerted him to whoever was crossing the barrier he’d unconsciously created around the ship.

Ren merged with the Star Stream. Spying them from the security cameras, his hope that it was Rowan or one of the others fizzled when he saw the pair of youths huddled close to the bay door. Hats pulled low and dark scarfs over their features, they attempted to bypass the lock, inserting a chip and a code. Amused, Ren mustered a smile and blocked their inelegant attempt to open the door. They cursed when their override didn’t work.

“Cogs! I thought you said the universal key would let us in,” one hissed.

The other shrugged. “It does on most ships. Just not on this one.”

“That confirms the theory then.”

“How does that confirm the theory? It just means they have stronger locks than the other fools docked around here.”

“They have stronger locks because they have something they want to hide.”

Interest piqued, Ren focused in on the speaker—a girl with hair as black as his home’s night sky save for streaks of nebula purple that peeked from beneath her cap and with dark eyes that darted between the door and her companion.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

She pulled down her scarf to reveal olive skin and a mouth she pressed into a thin, annoyed line. “It’s my job to know. Okay? Trust me.” She flashed an impish smile.

Her companion shook his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, Darby, we live on the outermost drift in the cluster. Your information could be years old.”

“Don’t doubt me. I told you, there is something on this ship that the Phoenix Corps wants badly enough to chase it planet-side.”

Ren physically recoiled, and pain flared up his torso. He snapped into his body; the back of his head smacked into the bulkhead. The Corps. Anxiety coursed through him, and he scrambled to his feet. He stumbled down the hallway, unsure where he was going, knowing only that he needed to move, escape. Breathing hard, he ducked into the common area, tumbled past the dining table, and fell to the deck in front of the worn couch.

Forehead pressed to the cool deck floor, Ren choked on fear. His breath went reedy and thin. He exhaled in choppy pants, and in his panic, his world narrowed to the thick dread pushing through his veins, and the sweat beading along the back of his neck, and the syrupy consistency of the air. The ship called to him, and he wanted to go to the systems, be embraced by wires and electricity, but he’d done that before and lost six weeks of his life.

He fought for breath and struggled against the impulse to give in to the warmth of his power. He couldn’t run from his problems. And no one was around but him. No one was here to save him or protect the ship and that fact alone was his fault. He pressed his hands flat against the floor and counted in his head. He used the familiar rhythms of the ship to time his breathing and mindfully eased the tightness of each muscle until he relaxed, boneless, against the floor.

Once his body had calmed, he catalogued the facts he knew. The Phoenix Corps thought him to be dead. They’d seen him fall. Ren had watched Rowan report that they couldn’t save them. This girl, Darby, had information, but it might be limited and old. And if they were after him, they wouldn’t send a pair of thieves.

Clearheaded, Ren sat up and draped his body across the front of the couch. He found it funny how surviving didn’t erase the scars of the past and how panic made it difficult to be rational. Not so funny was how, in his panic, he lost his attention on the door and he didn’t block the override.

The sound of the bay door opening on creaky hinges echoed through the ship. Weeds! Ren crawled to the comm in the common room and flicked it on with a thought.

“Third time’s the charm,” Darby said, her voice crackling over the open line.

“Shh, you don’t know if anyone is here.”

“Oh yeah, I do. Crew manifest says four hands and all four of them are on the drift. The captain and her muscle are coordinating a merchant exchange and the medic and pilot were in the marketplace picking up supplies. And I know Rowan Morgan—she doesn’t trust anyone enough to leave them on ship without trusting them enough to be on the list.”

Ren frowned. He eased into the ship and into the monitoring systems and the security cameras. The intruders were already in the cargo bay, wandering around the large open area, inspecting the few boxes. She kicked a crate and muttered junk under her breath. It was the box Ollie had given him, full of broken tech, a way for Ren to channel his energy.

Irritated, Ren crackled in the comms.

“Did you hear that?” her partner asked. “I think someone is here.”

“No one is here, okay! I scoped it out. The ship is empty. I promise.”

“Not quite,” Ren said. “And don’t kick my things.” His voice rang out, its rasp echoing down the corridors and into the empty spaces. He sounded like a ghost, like the specter of a dying ship.

Darby startled, and her companion turned and ran. He jumped through the open bay door and disappeared. Before she could run, Ren sped through the systems and engaged the airlock. It slammed shut just as Darby skidded to a stop in front of it. She grasped the handle, but it wouldn’t turn, and she pounded her fist on the keypad, to no avail.

“Let me out!” She threw her body against the bulkhead, then gave it a kick and cursed when her boot collided with the thick metal.

“How do you know about the Phoenix Corps following this ship?”

Darby pushed away from the airlock and narrowed her eyes. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t bargain with thieves.”

She spun around, eyes narrowed, hair falling in her face. “It’s not fair that you can see me, and I can’t see you. Come on out. Let’s talk.” She scowled. Hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched. “Besides, I haven’t stolen anything.”

“Yet,” Ren said, noting how the side of Darby’s mouth tilted up at the addendum. He swallowed, his throat dry, and leaned heavily against the wall. “You’re trespassing.”

“And you sound horrible. Are you sick? Quarantined? Is that why you’re not on the drift with the others?” She tapped her temple. “Ah, that would explain why you’re not on the manifest. Don’t want to alert drift authority to a potential duster contagion. Confined to the ship, but that also means you’re probably confined on the ship as well.” She hopped up a step onto the stairs that led to the interior of the Star Stream. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me, would you?” She skipped up a few more, daring, teasing.

Ren frowned. A drop of sweat rolled down his spine. “Tell me what you know about the Corps and this ship, and I’ll open the door. I won’t tell the captain that you were ever here.”

Darby spun on her heel and jumped down to the bay floor. “She doesn’t scare me.”

“Then you don’t know her. And I’m fine with keeping you here until she returns.”

Paling slightly in the dim light of the cargo bay, Darby held up her hands. Her fingernails sparkled with purple polish. “Fine. What was the question?”

“What do you know about the Phoenix Corps and the captain?”

“It’s true, isn’t it? Morgan has something valuable to them. So valuable they followed the crew planet-side twice. Rumors say it’s a weapon. That they destroyed it and took one of your crew.”

Ren bristled. “Where did you hear that?”

Darby brushed her knuckles on the fabric of her shirt and ambled around the cargo bay. Discovering the camera mounted high in the corner, she moved beneath it and stared. She winked and mouthed hi there then blew a kiss. “I hear things. I know things. Information is currency.”

“If they destroyed the object, then why are you here?”

Darby shrugged. “I don’t think they actually did. Morgan has been staying away from the main drifts for several weeks. Almost like she’s hiding but still in plain sight. She’s staying on the outskirts.”

“And?”

“And that’s what I would do if I had a weapon the Corps thought they’d destroyed but hadn’t. I’d still look like I was functioning as normal, but I wouldn’t waltz into their den.” Darby shuffled through the cargo and peered into crevices. “Nice trick with the door, by the way,” she continued. “Not many are wired to close like that with remote access. It makes them too easy to open that way as well, and that’s dangerous, especially in space. Who are you?”

Ren rubbed his forehead with his thumb; a headache thumped over his right eye. He resisted responding with the weapon. “I’m the ship.”

Darby laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m guessing you’re some poor dust bunny who’s hitched a ride with Morgan for a few stops but isn’t doing so well in transit. Space sickness? Though that’s not contagious and not limited to dusters. You sound a little like a duster. And they have been planet-side. Pick you up in a space port? Did you bat your eyelashes and tell them how you wanted to see what was beyond your dirty little world?”

“Not quite.” Ren slumped against the wall. His strength was failing. He needed the crew to return. “You talk a lot.”

“It’s how I think.”

Ren wasn’t sure who was stalling whom now. Was she waiting for him to pass out? She wouldn’t find the kind of weapon she thought she was looking for. Would she leave if he gave her an out or would she run to her friend and return?

“Last question,” he said, voice grating. “Then I’ll open the door, and you can leave and not return.”

“Sounds fair.”

“What do you know about the crew member that was taken?” He spoke around the lump in his throat. Asher. What happened to him? Was he all right? Grief sapped the rest of Ren’s strength, and he sagged.

“Nothing, really. Some rumors say it was a member of Rowan’s blood family, but if that was the case, wouldn’t their mother intervene? She holds a bit of influence, right? My theory is that it was her lover. But Rowan isn’t really known for lovers either.”

Ren shuddered.

“But who knows? When the Corps wants someone gone, they’re gone. They’ll never see that person again.”

Tears stung behind his eyes. He unlocked the door and it popped open. “Go.”

He watched through the security screen as Darby hesitated at the threshold. “Hey, are you okay, ship? You sound… I don’t know… sad? Can ships be sad?”

“Leave!” All the lights flared to life in one blinding moment. The ship filled with sound and energy and blue sparks gathered in the corners and the air went heavy with potential.

Darby ran.

Ren slammed the door behind her. Sluggish and empty and miserable, he pulled from the ship. His side throbbed, and his head ached, and, for a moment, he wished he hadn’t woken up at all. He stretched out as best he could on the deck plate and used his arm as a makeshift pillow. His eyes fluttered shut, and he passed out.

* * *

Blurry shapes spun around him. Outlines of shadows and bright light and indistinct globs of color swayed on the outskirts of his vision. Something darted in the corner of his eye, but Ren couldn’t chase it, couldn’t turn to figure out what was going on. A voice, distorted and slow, called to him, but Ren couldn’t decipher what it was saying. Everything was nebulous and strange: streaks of color moved with no discernible patterns and sound bumped into sound, discordant and awful.

This was a dream. Ren had been here before, confused and disoriented, but the feeling was the same, the feeling of being watched, of being compelled, of sensing someone desperate to reach him.

Slowly, impressions solidified into shapes and became objects. Ren concentrated, and his surroundings sharpened, came into focus. It was like looking through an old telescope with someone turning the lens and the soft-yellow fuzzed circle becoming the broken moon he knew from his childhood. Except he wasn’t on Erden, and he certainly wasn’t looking through a telescope he and Liam had found in a trash heap.

Liam.

The space cleared suddenly, and Ren’s stomach twisted with the quick change in clarity. He stood in a blinding white room.

“Ren? Is that you? You’re alive?”

Ren raised his hand to block the harsh light and peered into a corner.

“Liam?”

Ren reached out—

* * *

An ear-piercing shriek jolted Ren from his sleep. He pried his eyes open in time to watch a crate of supplies drop from Penelope’s hands and scatter across the floor. A roll of gauze tumbled past his outstretched fingers.

“Ren?”

He jerked in surprise, then groaned when pain flared from his side. Pen was on her knees in an instant, her soft hands cradled his face, and her wide, brown eyes filled his vision. Her long curls caressed his cheeks and ears. Ren turned his head away and closed his eyes, searching for the white room and Liam, but that only earned him a slap across his cheek.

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, mister. Stay awake.”

“What’s going on?” Her boots banging on the deck plate, Rowan thundered into the common area. Ollie’s rapid stomps followed, as well as Lucas’s. “Pen, are you all right? What happened?”

Ren tilted his head back and caught Rowan’s eye.

She squeaked; her hands flew to her open mouth. “What the stars? Ren? How did you get in here? What’s going on?”

“Ren?” Ollie yelled as he and Lucas fought for position in the doorway.

Ren smiled weakly. “Hi.”

“Help me get him to the couch,” Penelope ordered.

Ren gritted his teeth as they lifted him and moved him the few feet to the old sofa. He protested being laid flat, and, despite Pen’s scowl, they maneuvered his body into a sitting position. Rowan handed him a glass of water, and Ren drank it down. The cool liquid felt like rain on his desert-dry throat.

Penelope pulled up his shirt and poked at the bandage.

“Are you the reason it’s a sauna in here?” Rowan asked, taking the glass from his trembling grip and setting it on the nearby table. She placed her hands on her hips. Her long blonde braid fell over her shoulder so the end tickled the indent of her waist. She wore her jacket open and a weapon strapped to her outer thigh.

Ren clutched at the blanket around his shoulders. “It’s freezing.”

“No,” Penelope said, frowning at the wound. “That’s only you. And luckily you didn’t undo any of my work.”

“You fixed me. How?”

“Cobbled together supplies. Medicine, medical glue, small antiseptic forcefields, nutrient tubes, and well, mending thread.” Her touch light, she smoothed the bandage.

“And no small amount of skill,” Lucas added.

Ren touched Penelope’s hand. “Thank you.”

Penelope’s long lashes fanned her cheeks as she blushed. “You’re lucky to be alive, Ren.”

“Yeah, and most people think you’re dead,” Lucas added. He spun one of the dining chairs around and straddled it. “Though you look good for a dead person.”

Pen cast her husband a withering glare, and Lucas grinned, cheeks dimpling.

“Thanks, I guess.” Ren picked at a thread on the hem of his shirt. “I figured we weren’t being followed or we wouldn’t be docked at a drift.”

Penelope settled next to him on the couch. Rowan stood in front of him. Lucas stared intently from his chair. His goggles sat atop his head, contorting his light brown hair in messy spikes. Ollie stayed on the outskirts of the group with his massive arms crossed over his chest and eyed Ren as if he was a ghost. Ren didn’t mind, since he felt like one anyway.

The four of them were beautiful and Ren was lucky to know them and to be a part of their family. “What happened?” he asked.

Rowan quirked an eyebrow. “I was hoping you might be able to fill in some of the details we’re missing. Asher gave us a quick and simple version—how things went to dirt on Crei, Millicent betrayed you, and then the Corps showed up and you were injured. You died right there,” Rowan nodded to the table. “At least, that’s what we told the Corps.”

“I even showed them a vid of when you flatlined,” Penelope said. “It fooled them enough.”

Ren swallowed. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat at that table ever again.

“What Ash said was true. Millicent betrayed us. The whole time on the ship, she could pull me in and push me out. Those times when I almost hurt all of you, that was her, luring me into the systems during my nightmares.” Ren studied his hands. “She wanted me to embrace something I couldn’t be and, when I fought her, when I kept myself from hurting you all, from allowing the power to consume me, she turned on me. On us. She sided with Vos, and they escaped.”

Vos. The name was sour in Ren’s mouth. Previously baron of a fief on Ren’s home world, he was responsible for Ren’s capture from his village. He was the catalyst for Ren discovering his powers. Ren had foiled Vos’s plans of drift and planet domination once and helped make him number one on the Corps’ most-wanted list. But when they’d met again, Vos had outmaneuvered him, and Ren had lost. Ren vowed he wouldn’t lose again.

“How did the Corps find you?”

Ren blew out a harsh breath. “Asher called them when we realized Vos was on the planet. He thought he could trade—Vos for me. And that, once the Corps had him, they’d reinstate Asher and let me go.”

Rowan’s features softened. “And you were shot?”

“By Corporal Zag. He figured out on Erden at the citadel that the usual weapons wouldn’t work on me. So he used an ancient projectile and… you know that part.”

Penelope’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Yes, we know that part.”

“I remember a little from being in the ship and watching through the vid feeds. But… Asher?” he hazarded.

“Out of our reach,” Rowan said with a disgusted noise. “The Corps swept him away, and we haven’t heard from him since. He didn’t get much of a chance to talk to us before he left. He only made it clear that we must look after you.”

“We need to find him,” Ren said. He clenched his fists on his knees. “I have to find him and save him, and maybe he’ll forgive me.”

“You’re dead,” Rowan said, bending down. “Do you get that? This is your chance to leave. You can disappear. Go home. I’ll even pay your way. But if you go looking for Asher, all of his hard work, all of our deceptions, will have been for nothing.”

Ren ran a hand down his face. His eyes stung. His lips were chapped and raw. Every movement took effort. His stomach growled with intense hunger. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done for me,” he said, voice soft. “And I understand if you’re not going to follow me into this, but I’m going to find Asher. I’m going to free him from the Corps. I don’t know what will happen after that, if they’re going to chase me the rest of my life, or if I’ll get to rest. But Asher did everything he could to save me, and I’m returning the favor. With or without you.”

The group stared in silence and the declaration fatigued Ren further. He sank into the ratty cushions. Even though he’d slept for the last six weeks, the excitement of waking up, stopping a potential thief, and proposing espionage against a major military power had sapped the little strength he had.

Rowan dropped her hands from her hips. “Let’s table this discussion. For now. You’re tired and probably hungry. And we’ve planned to stay on this little drift for at least a day.”

Ren nodded, the fight having bled out of him. “Oh, by the way, someone broke into the ship.”

Rowan’s features clouded. “What?”

Ren told them about the override and the conversation he’d had with Darby. The longer he spoke, the more upset Rowan became, and Ollie’s eyebrows inched higher.

“You told her you were the ship?” he asked with a large smile.

Ren shrugged. “She didn’t believe me, if that helps.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose, an action oddly reminiscent of Asher. Ren’s heart ached. “No more leaving the ship unguarded. And no leaving the ship at all, Ren. We can’t risk Phoenix Corps finding out you’re alive. I don’t like the fact that this Darby person interacted with you at all.”

Ren perked up. “There’s Corps on a drift this small?”

“There’s Corps on every drift,” Lucas said, propping his chin on his folded arms. “A small regiment at the very least. This one has the dubious privilege of also having a recruitment center.”

Pointing in Ren’s direction, Rowan frowned. “I recognize that expression, and whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” Ren lied.

Rowan crossed her arms. “Right. At least get your strength back before you go running headfirst into a reckless rescue attempt. For all our sakes.”

“Yes, Captain.”

At that, Rowan finally cracked a smile. “Glad to have you back, Ren. Eat something and rest, and we’ll talk in a few hours.” She gestured to Ollie and Lucas. “You two, I want to look at the vid loop and this Darby person. I don’t like that she was on my ship and I want to know where she’s getting her information.”

The three filed out, but not before Ollie clapped a huge, dark hand on Ren’s shoulder.

Pen shook her head. “Come on, let’s change your bandages and get some food in you that’s not liquid. And then you’ll feel better, I’m sure of it.”

Ren wasn’t so sure himself, but he did know he needed his strength, especially if he planned to infiltrate the Corps and rescue Asher.

* * *

Ren slept fitfully on the medical cot after Penelope changed his bandage and eased the tube from his arm. He’d eaten little, and the food sat heavy in his stomach. He’d learned that the crew had bargained and bartered for supplies to keep him alive—packets of liquid nutrients that spacers used for long trips, medicines, tubes, and gauze, even heated blankets. There was nothing on the books and nothing to alert the Corps, but he found it hard to believe that the military organization bought the ruse that he was gone, though Ollie said the crew had been convincing. Ren had seen the vid of his bloody body the crew showed General VanMeerten. Maybe Asher willingly leaving, combined with Pen’s tears and Rowan’s defeated demeanor had been enough.

After a tortured rest in which he didn’t dream, didn’t try to kill the crew, and had no contact with Liam, Ren hoisted himself to standing. His body responded strangely, and he didn’t know if it was due to atrophy or living in the ship for the last weeks or a combination of both. Unfortunately, inhabiting a corporeal form that was weak and uncoordinated was cogging annoying, especially when he could traverse the length of the ship in a nanosecond using his technopathic abilities.

He washed, brushed his teeth, peeled off the medical scrubs, and dressed. Wearing his own clothes was a relief. The fabric felt familiar against his skin; the scent was comforting. Mindful of the bandages, he smoothed his shirt.

Leaning heavily on the bulkhead, he made it the short distance from his current quarters to the common area.

“Look, I want to find Asher as much as anyone,” Lucas said, as Ren slumped against the door. “But what will happen after? Asher made his choice. Shouldn’t we honor that?”

Ollie rose from his chair at the table and stood by Ren’s side, offered his arm, and guided Ren to his spot.

“Thanks,” Ren said, cheeks hot.

Ollie smiled.

“It was a stupid decision,” Rowan said, plopping a helping of mashed tuber on her plate. She took the spoon and threw a helping onto Ren’s as well and slid it toward him. Lucas added a piece of bread, and Ollie poured water into his glass. “I love my brother, but he’s naïve. He waltzed back to the Corps thinking he could salvage his position with them, but those cogs don’t take slights lightly.”

Penelope sat beside Lucas and smoothed his hair away from his face. “Asher made a decision out of desperation and love. If it were me and you, I’d do the same thing.”

Lucas took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I know, but I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

“But you wouldn’t have a say. Ash made a choice, and now we get to make ours.”

Lucas acquiesced and took a bite of his food.

They ate in silence. Ren pushed his dinner around his plate with a bent fork. He sighed. “I can go alone. You don’t need to follow me.”

Ollie snorted. “Asher is my brother in everything but blood. I’ll go with you.”

“Not without me.” Pen reached across the table and wrapped her hand around Ren’s cold fingers. “It took a lot of work to fix you. I’m not letting you mess up my handiwork.”

Rowan and Lucas exchanged a glance. Lucas straightened his goggles. “I go where my wife goes,” Lucas said, pointing his fork in Ren’s direction, flinging bits of food. “And anyway, I’m driving.”

Rowan tugged on her blonde braid. “Well then, you have a crew at your disposal. But I’m warning you, little one, if you get yourself hurt again, Asher won’t be the only one in line to kill you. Understand?”

“I think so?”

Rowan gave a sharp nod. “One problem, we don’t know where he is.”

Ren bit his lip. It was reckless, but it was the only lead they had. “I know a girl who knows things.”

2

The next morning, after breakfast, Ren stretched on the couch in the common room. Drowsy, and full of food, he listened to the familiar conversations around him. The crew’s voices blended into a low, comforting buzz, and Ren smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on the cushions.

He woke a few hours later. Someone had repositioned him, which he appreciated since he didn’t wake with a crick in his neck. The room was empty, the lights powered low, but Ren felt everyone on the ship. Fluttering his eyelids, Ren eased into the systems; the action was as simple as breathing.

Through the echo in the comms, Ren heard Ollie’s heavy steps around the cargo bay. Propped in her captain’s chair on the bridge, Rowan scrolled through newsfeeds. Lucas, hunched over his personal data screen in his and Penelope’s quarters, reviewed routes and star charts. His fingers tapped restlessly, mapping paths to drifts and planets. Flipping through pages, Penelope read a novel, a fairy tale about a mermaid.

This was Ren’s family—and he was relieved they were okay—but they all missed an important member. Asher’s absence echoed everywhere.

Ren made his way to Asher’s quarters, the ones that had been adjacent to his own. They were unlocked, though that wouldn’t have stopped Ren.

He’d been in Asher’s room, but that seemed like an age ago. It was much as he remembered—not an object out of place. Checking the drawers and closet, Ren found only a black drifter jacket with red accents. Ren slipped it on. He moved to the bathroom and picked through Asher’s things with no real purpose in mind other than to be close to him through the objects and space he’d left behind.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Ren eyed himself. Gone was the boy from Erden who had been captured by a despot. Gone was the shadow who’d walked around the ship pale and hollow-eyed, uncertain of his humanity, at war within himself. Staring at him was a man with a lean face, a slightly stubbled jaw, and a power that seeped into his bones, glowed from his eyes, nestled in the space beneath his ribs, had become a part of him. He wasn’t afraid any longer, of himself or of others. His only fear was losing the family he’d built, and he was determined to fix the mistakes he’d made that had caused that family to be incomplete.

Beyond that was uncertainty: if he’d find his brother, if he could live a life on a drift or a planet without being chased, if normal was ever in the stars for him.

Ren’s dark hair brushed his shoulders and fell into his eyes. It was a remnant of the time from his capture. He couldn’t cut it at the citadel. Too caught up in his technopathic power, he hadn’t cared about it when he lived on the ship, and he couldn’t cut it while he was drifting between death and circuits. Spying a pair of scissors on the sink, Ren grabbed them and pulled a strand taut. He cut it, and the hair fell into the sink and curled onto the metal surface. The action was strangely freeing. With trembling hands, Ren continued to cut and cut and cut, and the hair in the sink mounted into a pile.

“Do you want help?”

Ren jumped and turned to find Rowan standing in the doorway. She leaned on the wall, her expression fond. She looked at the scissors Ren unintentionally but instinctively pointed at her and pursed her lips.

“I heard someone in here and figured it was you.” She shrugged. “I knew it wasn’t him, and the others wouldn’t be interested in the things he left behind.” She tugged at the collar of the jacket, and Ren’s cheeks burned with a blush.

Cautiously, Rowan took the scissors.

“Here, it’s all uneven. Actually, I think Asher has a pair of clippers somewhere.”

Rowan slid Asher’s chair from his desk into the small bathroom space and gestured for Ren to sit. He did and closed his eyes as Rowan ran her fingernails over his scalp. The snick-snick of the scissors was rhythmic and soothing.

She’d been suspicious of him once, wary and afraid of the unpredictability he brought aboard her ship. She’d softened, though, when she saw him for what he was—a scared duster far from home, thrust into an adventure he hadn’t asked for. Despite her acceptance, he’d never imagined she’d be doing something like this for him.

“Thank you,” he said, finally.

“I used to do this for Ash when he was younger, before the Corps. He had beautiful blond hair as a baby, and, when it grew long, my friends and I would braid it. He didn’t care until he hit that pre-pubescent stage when everyone was stupid except for him.”

Ren half-smiled. “Was he a brat?”

Rowan made an affirmative noise in her throat. “The worst. He was a moody little cog. But then he hit fifteen, shot up in height, grew muscles, and became handsome. And he knew it too. Then he was utterly unbearable.”

With the heel of his hand, Ren wiped away the tears gathered in his lashes. “I bet he could’ve had anyone he wanted.”

Rowan swung open the mirror and pulled out the hair clippers. She flipped the switch, and it sputtered before shutting off. Ren lightly touched the casing, allowed his power to flood into the wires, and it hummed to life. Rowan didn’t bat an eye and ran the clippers along the shape of Ren’s ear and up the side of his head.

“He could’ve, but he enlisted and disappeared. I hadn’t seen him in so long when you brought him back to me, bedraggled, and awful-smelling, on that woman’s ship at Nineveh. I would’ve paid any amount of credits for him right then.”

“I’d pay any amount to have him here right now.”

“I know.” She gently pushed Ren’s head forward and used the clippers on his neck. “You’re young and stupid and inexperienced and you care too deeply. And you’re exactly the person my brother needs.”

He didn’t know if he was the person Asher needed. He hoped he was the person Asher still wanted. But what really mattered was just having Asher back and the family whole.

“We’ll get him back. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep. But,” she said before Ren could respond, “I’m glad you’re determined.” She turned off the clippers. “There. All done. I think it suits you.”

Ren stood and peered in the mirror. She’d done a good job: the sides and back short, but the top still slightly long and wild.

“Thank you.”

She patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now, do you honestly think this girl will be able to help us?”

Ren ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I think it’s a good place to start.”

“Well, then, let’s go find her.”

* * *

Finding Darby wasn’t difficult. Ren used his connection with the ship to link to the video feeds of the drift. Phoebus was a tiny drift, constructed of a few levels and the docks. After a couple of minutes of flicking through the feeds, Ren found Darby outside a storefront. He almost missed her, since her outfit blended in with the moving populace and the walls of the drift, but a strand of her nebula hair peeking out beneath her slouch hat caught his eye.

Darby moved with a grace that Ren hadn’t seen before. Her movements were quick and fluid. Ren almost missed it when Darby pickpocketed a woman leaning over a display of bracelets. The glint of a credit chip was the only reason he caught the movement; that and the slight sway of the woman’s purse. The sleight of hand was practiced and easy. Then, for good measure, Darby took a few bracelets before ambling away.

She went to the elevator, and Ren lost track of her until she emerged on the floor below.

“Third floor,” Ren said into the comm to Ollie, as Darby meandered to a bench positioned to look out at the stars. “Near the observation window. The one with the hat and the rainbow socks.”

“That little thing?” Ollie said a few minutes later. “Are you sure? She doesn’t look like much.”

“Yes, that’s her. Be careful.”

Ollie sighed over the line. “Okay, I’m on it.”

Ren eased from the drift and contracted to the ship. He opened his eyes and found Penelope staring at him.

“Hi,” he said with a wave. “Everything okay?”

Brow furrowed, Penelope stared at him. “It seems easier than before.” She made a gesture at her eyes. “You’re not as… unpredictable.”

“I have better control.” He pressed his hand to the bulkhead with fingers spread, leaving smudges on the shiny surface. “It was harder when I didn’t know what I was doing. And then Millicent manipulated me. And then… well after spending so many weeks in the ship…” he trailed off and shrugged. “It’s instinctive now.”

“Do you think you’ll need to worry about being overwhelmed again? ‘Go all glowy’ as they say. Should I carry a list of impossible questions to ask you, just in case? To force you back to being human?”

Ren frowned. “I think I’ll always have to worry about losing myself, unfortunately. It’s part of being what I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t balance it, that I can’t be both human and star host. I don’t have to be one or the other.” Ren flexed his fingers. “I can choose to be both.”

That was something Millicent hadn’t understood when she’d tried to force him to choose. She could only see a constant struggle between one or the other, so she’d abandoned a part of herself. Ren couldn’t do that.

“That’s good.” Penelope gave him a warm smile. “Well, let’s get you ready to broker your first deal. It’s exciting, I think. You’re becoming a true drifter.”

“I wonder what Jakob would say to that.”

Penelope laughed. “He’d say something along the lines of, what have you weeds done to my best friend?”

Ren chuckled at her impression.

Penelope helped him to his feet, then smoothed the lapels of Asher’s jacket. If she noticed he’d pilfered it from Asher’s closet, she didn’t say anything. Ren looped his arm around her shoulders and together they made their way to the cargo bay.

* * *

Ren reclined on the stairs in the cargo bay with his elbows propped behind him and his booted feet on a lower step. He was still becoming used to his body again, and this pose allowed him to appear relaxed but not weak. It killed his elbows and shoulders, though, strained his joints, and put pressure on tender places.

As soon as Ollie neared the dock, Ren perked up, feeling him cross the barrier Ren had erected around the ship. He alerted Rowan and Lucas to their impending visitor. They all turned toward the airlock door and waited.

They didn’t wait long.

Darby’s string of expletives was both impressive and creative. While she wasn’t physically fighting Ollie, she was making the job of escorting her difficult by playing dead weight, dragging her feet, and generally being a nuisance.

Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “We’re kidnapping now?” he asked, as Ollie hauled an uncooperative Darby through the cargo airlock with his thick brown arms wrapped around her waist. “I thought we were asking politely?”

“I did ask politely,” Ollie said. “She refused rudely.”

Once inside the cargo bay, and with Ollie distracted, Darby kicked out, catching him in the knee with her thick heel. He dropped her with a grunt, and she took off for the door. From his spot on the stairs, Ren thrust out his hand, pushed his star outward, and the door swung closed before she could reach it. He locked it for good measure.

She slid to a halt and scowled. “I hate that trick.”

Lucas shook his head and waved his hand over his shoulder as he left the cargo bay. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t want to be an accessory.” He stepped past Ren on the stairs and rubbed his head. “Nice jacket.”

Ren swatted his hand away.

“You’re already an accessory,” Darby yelled. “You all are. I’ll turn every last one of you in to the Corps.”

Ollie, an imposing figure with his height and bulk, stood near the airlock, and Rowan scowled from the other side of the stairs. A pulse gun was strapped to her outer thigh. She sighed, put upon, and brushed her golden braid from her shoulder and pulled on the hem of her black shirt. “Seriously? You are in no position to threaten us with the Corps. Especially since you’re carrying stolen merchandise on your person right now.”

Darby let a slow grin spread over her face. Her hair, a mixture of black and purple, was cut short at her chin. She wore dark clothes and next to Ollie she appeared tiny. Ren couldn’t judge her age, but he guessed it wasn’t much different from his own. She snapped her fingers. “You must be Captain Rowan Morgan. Your reputation proceeds you.”

“Unfortunately, so does yours, Darby.”

Darby brushed off the sleeves of her jacket and spread her arms wide. “I have no reputation. I’m totally ‘what you see is what you get.’”

“And I’ve seen vid of you pickpocketing, shoplifting, and trespassing.”

“Oh, busted,” Darby said with a wink. “So, I know you. You know me. But I don’t know…” She pointed at Ren and Ollie. “…these two lovely boys.”

Ollie didn’t say anything.

“We’ve met,” Ren said.

“I would’ve remembered if we’d met.” Darby put her hands on her hips and batted her eyelashes. “I don’t forget a pretty face.”

Ren snorted. “Yesterday. Remember? Don’t kick my things.”

Realization dawned. Her mouth dropped open, and she wagged her finger in his direction. “You don’t look like a ship,” she said, her gaze running from Ren’s toes to his head. “You look like another fine mark though.”

“Enough of this.” Rowan dropped her crossed arms and stalked across the short distance between her and Darby. Her hand rested on her holstered weapon. “You violated the sanctity of my ship. You’re lucky we don’t turn you over to the drift authorities.”

Darby placed a hand over her heart and gasped. “Oh no, an empty threat. Whatever shall I do?”

Ollie coughed into his fist. Rowan’s glare intensified. Ren inwardly groaned; a clash of personalities wasn’t what he needed. This wouldn’t get them anywhere, and Darby was the only lead they had to Asher’s whereabouts.

“If you had wanted to turn me in, you would’ve when you had the vids on me. So, what’s the deal? Or the con?”

Ren gritted his teeth. Darby’s attitude was wearing thin. “You’re right. We’re not turning you over to the authorities, but don’t think for a second you’re not in any danger here, or don’t you remember when I told you to leave.” Ren leveled Darby with a look and engaged the star in his chest. The lights in the cargo hold flickered. His eyes went blue. He lifted his hand, and sparks danced between his fingers.

Darby paled and stepped away, her defensive posture melting into fear. “What are you? How are you doing that?”

Ren closed his fingers and pulled himself from the systems. He ignored her question. “We need you to do us a favor.”

Her eyebrows raised. “A favor?” False bravado back in place, she tilted her chin. “Favors can be expensive. And I’m not cheap.”

Rowan narrowed her eyes. “How much?”

“Depends on the favor.” Darby flashed a cheeky grin. “I’m guessing the great Captain Morgan doesn’t want her to get her hands dirty. Don’t want to sully your name with questionable activity?”

“From what you told Ren, my name is already sullied.”

Darby shrugged. “Not so much. Just my own theories, that I was obviously wrong about.” She cast a glance at Ren. “Or not so wrong. Maybe, they weren’t after an object. Maybe, they chased you because of a person. Tell me, Ren. Have you ever been to Crei?”

That was too close for comfort, and Ren waved his hand, brushing off her theories like cobwebs. “Look, we need information. You’re good at information. But this isn’t going to be as easy as an override on a ship. We have a very specific target.”

“What? Are we talking a little information, or are you talking outright theft? Because I can do both. And what’s the target? No one on this drift is too difficult. Cogs, this ship was the toughest I’ve sneaked on in months.”

Ren shifted on the stairs. His back was too tense, and the blunt metal edges of the steps dug into his legs. He would have bruises. But he shrugged, pretending nonchalance while his pulse thrummed. “The Corps,” he said, as if had described the basic function of air recyclers.

Darby laughed. She tossed her head back and clutched her sides and laughed. “That’s hilarious.” She slid her fingers beneath her eyes to wipe away non-existent tears. “Oh, my stars, that was funny. I haven’t heard a good joke in a while.”

Rowan frowned. “We’re wasting time. She can’t help us.”

“Wait?” She looked at the three of them and scrunched her nose. “You’re serious? You want me to steal information from the Corps? No way, the only way you can get information out of those guys is to hack their database. And sorry, unless you are amazing and can get into their private and secure systems, you’re DOL.”

“DOL?” Ren asked.

“Dirt out of luck.” Darby held up a hand and wiggled her fingers that poked out of her fingerless gloves. “One, you’re not going to be able to get close enough, and, even if you do, the encryption is beyond what anyone on this drift can break. Second, the last guy who tried was thrown onto some dust ball and never heard from again. No amount of credits or favors or whatever is worth that.”

She turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.

“Wait!” Ren pushed his body to standing, but hunched over. His legs trembled, and he crumpled forward. Ollie caught him before he tumbled off the stairs. Grasping Ren’s arm, Ollie steadied him. “Wait. You weren’t wrong. There is something on this ship that the Corps chased and thought they destroyed but didn’t.”

Darby stopped in her tracks. “I was right,” Darby said, looking over her shoulder. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“Not sick. Recovering from almost being destroyed.”

Darby’s eyebrows shot up. “Rumors said it was a weapon. You don’t look like much of a weapon.”

“This is too dangerous.” Rowan stepped between Ren and Darby. “Don’t tell her another word. We’ll figure it out without her.”

“You’ll be pegged in an instant,” Darby crossed her arms. “I had your number before you finished docking. You won’t be able to get near the Corps, and your friend, the ship over there, is wanted, right? One scan and he’s done for. You’ll never get your missing crewman back.”

Her words were a slap. A pang shot through Ren and sank to his core at the thought of not finding Asher. He saw the same reaction in Rowan and felt it in Ollie’s tightened grip.

Ren touched Rowan’s elbow.

“We knew there would be risks. I’m okay with them as long as we can get the information we need.”

“Fine,” Rowan’s response was immediate.

Stepping from Ollie’s hold, Ren faced Darby. “You won’t have to worry about any of the hacking,” Ren said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s my job. I’m a technopath.”

Darby blinked.

Ren waited for the fallout.

She scrunched her nose again. “Huh. That explains a few things.” She shrugged. “All right. That’s great. What’s your plan?”

“You’re not afraid or curious?”

“I’m more curious about what my role is. If you can do science-magic, then why do you need me?”

Rowan tapped Darby on the forehead. “You are the distraction.”

“I don’t get it.”

Rowan leaned closer with a slight curl to her lips. “For someone so smart, you’re not thinking outside of the box. This is a recruitment center, which means turnover and fresh meat. We just need you to distract the right green newb and get his data pad close enough to our good friend here. That’s it. One little data pad, and you don’t even have to lift it, just creatively maneuver.”

Darby licked her lips. “Doesn’t sound like too much of a challenge. But this is a big favor for the measly exchange of not turning me in. I mean, a little shoplifting is time in the pokey here. A little espionage and I’m planet-side or in Perilous Space.”

“Consequences didn’t seem to keep you from breaking into my ship.”

Darby polished her glittery nails on her shirt. “Consequences matter now. Compensate me, or I walk out of here and blab all about the alive-and-well, mythical being on your boat.”

Rowan bit her lip so hard blood welled up in a perfect red bead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, smearing red across her mouth. “What do you want?”

“Credits. I want a lot of credits. And passage off this spinning heap. There’s only so much trouble you can get into on a drift this small without people beginning to notice.”

Rowan narrowed her eyes. Hands on her hips, she regarded Darby. “We can spare a few credits and we have room for one more. But not for long. We’re not dragging you around the cluster.”

“No problem. I want off at the next drift.”

Rowan held out her hand. “It seems we have a deal.”

Darby spit in hers, and slapped her palm against Rowan’s. Rowan made a horrified face and quickly wiped her hand on her trouser leg.

Laughing, Darby punched Ren in the shoulder, which almost sent him toppling. He massaged the sore spot.

“Great.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Phoebus drift was indeed tiny. While Mykonos was stacked with floors upon floors of businesses, residences, gardens, and government offices, Phoebus had only six stories and was sparsely populated. Located on the bottom level was the docking platform, and the five floors above contained a smattering of businesses, a few apartment blocks, and the recruitment office.

“I feel claustrophobic,” Ren muttered as he and Ollie went up in the lift. He scuffed his boots against the floor. “We’re going to get spotted.”

“We’re fine,” Ollie responded, voice low. “Merchants like us come and go from here all the time. It’s just like other drifts where it’s not out of the ordinary for new faces. Why do you think it has a recruitment office? The outer drifts are where people go to hide, to get away. Desperate people make desperate decisions.”

“Like joining the Corps?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Ren tugged his hood lower over his forehead. Asher’s jacket wasn’t hooded, and Ren had switched it for one that belonged to Penelope. It hid his face, but it lacked warmth, and Ren missed the smell and the weight of Asher’s. “Was Asher desperate when he joined?”

“That’s a question for Ash.”

Ren huffed. They exited the lift, which dumped them at the end of a corridor. And at the other end was the recruitment center. The Phoenix Corps logo blazed above the entrance, daunting and brilliant and terrible. Ren turned his head away, closed his eyes, and shut down every camera on the level. He doubted anyone would notice.

“We’re here,” he said softly over the comm.

Rowan’s voice came back. “So am I.”

“Me too,” Darby chimed.

Ollie and Ren moved, stopping every few feet to browse goods from vendors and for Ren to catch his breath. About halfway down the corridor, with the center looming at its end, Ren spotted the recruiter standing in the middle of the crowd. He wore a pressed uniform: the Phoenix Corps symbol spotless on his upper arm, the mythical bird rising from flames. His hair was close cut, his back ramrod straight, and his expression one of sheer boredom. The drifters of Phoebus ignored him. They streamed around him as he stood like a rock in the middle of a creek.

“Join the Corps today. Protect the Drift Alliance. Serve the people,” he said in a flat monotone.

Ren had seen Asher fight and survive. He’d seen Asher run until he couldn’t run any farther across an unfamiliar and treacherous landscape. He’d seen him battle through a snowstorm. He’d seen him command a group and bark orders while rescuing a drift and, at another time, organizing a retreat. He’d seen Asher stand in the face of impossible odds. Watching this soldier, Ren didn’t see any evidence of similar experiences.

Darby appeared from within the crowd and bumped into Ren’s shoulder. “He’s our mark.”

“Yes,” Ren said.

She kept walking fast but nodded and again merged with the flood of people.

Ollie and Ren spotted a restaurant and shuffled to a booth near the window.

“Is this close enough?”

“Yes.” Ren relaxed. He reached out, touched the energy of the data pad. “I’ve got it.” Over the comm, Ren spoke to the team. “Darby, you’re up.”

“Right.”

Ren ducked his head so the fabric of his hood cast his face in shadow, as Ollie interacted with the waitress. With his energy spread out and his vision tinted blue, keeping his focus on the data pad, he tracked the movement around their location. Ollie touched the back of Ren’s hand.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Amid the busy intersection, Darby materialized, walking backward, pretending to talk over comm to a friend. She knocked into the recruiter, her elbow went into his stomach, and together they stumbled.

“Oh!” she cried out.

The recruiter steadied them with one hand on Darby’s arm, the other still gripping his data pad.

“I’m so sorry,” Darby said, not stepping away, keeping her body close to his. She gently rested her hand on his forearm and tilted her face up. “Thanks for catching me.”

His expression didn’t change. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

The recruiter, his features stern, disengaged from Darby and took a step back. He clutched the data pad closer to his chest. “No.”

Darby smiled, brightly and cheerfully, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Right. You’re big, strong Phoenix Corps. Little me couldn’t hurt you.”

“I think you need to move along, miss.”

Ren winced. This wasn’t going well.

“Maybe I want to talk a little longer.”

“Unless you’re interested in enlisting, no.”

Darby bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes. “I am interested. I want to enlist.”

The recruiter looked Darby up and down. He shifted to cradle the data pad in his arm. “You want to enlist?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Darby said. She pulled her shoulders back. “What? Do I not meet criteria?” Puffing out her chest, she frowned. “I may be small, but I would be an amazing asset.”

He sighed and tapped on his screen. “I guess. At least I’ll make my quota.”

Darby twirled a strand of hair. “Do we have to do this right here? I mean…” She tossed her head to the side. “…that restaurant has nice booths.”

“Look, this isn’t a social club. This is a military organization.”

“Oh, well, I wanted to talk to you about…” Darby trailed off. She floundered and caught sight of the standard-issue pulse gun at his side. “Your pulse gun.”

The recruiter’s stern façade slipped. “My gun?”

“Oh, yeah.” Darby nodded enthusiastically. “I want to know all about your gun.”

His face lit up. “You like weapons?” His fingers grazed his holster.

“Weapons? I love weapons. Guns, knives, electric batons, even explosives. I love them all, but I don’t know much about them.” She pouted. “Would I learn that in the Corps?”

“Oh, yes. We teach you everything, from the history of the old laser guns to the new kinds of stunners and electric blades. I heard a story about how one of our corporals recently used an ancient projectile to take down a star host.”

Ren winced.

“Wow. That’s amazing. I want to hear everything.”

The recruiter looked around. “Okay, I have a few minutes until my shift replacement gets here. As long as you don’t blab…” He jerked his chin toward the restaurant. “…we can sit for a minute.”

Darby smiled coyly and crossed her heart. “I won’t tell a soul.”

He smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Okay, come on.”

A smidgeon of guilt at taking advantage of the kid’s sincerity wormed into Ren’s middle, but it was short-lived. He ducked his head and closed his eyes. He tracked the data pad’s movement. He heard a shuffle of feet, a sound of metal sliding along a table top, and Ren stilled, waiting for Ollie’s sign.

“He put it down. Go.”

Ren focused on the data pad and delved into the system. With Ollie next to him, Ren didn’t need to split his concentration. He wholly devoted his power to the device, speeding past passwords, burning through a firewall, and hurtling into the Phoenix Corps system itself.

This was different than disabling ships through a sensor grid. This was different than racing through circuits in the walls of the citadel. This was different than hovering in the electricity and relays of the ship. This was different than making weapons spark or beacons stop or cuffs fall from his hands. This wasn’t mechanics, but information. This operation required finesse, not strength.

Ren poured his star into the system. He searched for any hint of Asher’s name or whereabouts and flooded into every nook and cranny of the digital layout. He clenched his eyes, gritted his teeth, and allowed the star to consume him. He brimmed with power. Overwhelmed by static, sparks lit on his tongue, and white noise hummed in his ears.

Sliding through the torrent, Ren searched and searched and… found nothing.

He needed to go farther. Surging, Ren dug deeper, traveled from the surface information into hidden files. He found classified documents and bypassed the security levels. Desperate for Asher’s name, he rifled through warrants and disciplinary actions.

He paused when he found a file on known star hosts. He spotted his own name, and his death certificate, signed by VanMeerten herself. He flipped through it and found names of people he knew—Abiathar, Nadie, Millicent—and names he didn’t know. As interesting as it was, he couldn’t get caught up in it. Unless…

Flipping back to his own file, he perused the information. Asher’s name wasn’t stated, but there was a mention about a companion to the star host: a Corps soldier who acted as a handler; a soldier who had gone AWOL and was pursued on Erden and Crei; a soldier who was disciplined, knocked down the ranks, and now stationed on the planet Bara.

Bara. Asher was on Bara. Asher was planet-side. What was the Corps doing there?

Ren went back to the star host file, elated he’d found Asher’s location, and worried about what he was doing on a planet, especially after what Asher had suffered on Erden. Focused on Asher, Ren almost missed the name on one of the other files.

Liam.

Ren halted. It couldn’t be. He slammed into the document and—

“Ren! Ren, come on. Let go. We have to go.”

Snapping back into his body, Ren gasped. His teeth clacked together as Ollie shook him. His frame was limp and exhausted. Disoriented, Ren could only focus on one fact.

“Bara. He’s on Bara. Asher is at an outpost on Bara.”

But Liam. He’d lost Liam. He had to go back. He had to—

His resolve caught in his throat. The lights were off, even the emergency lights. Media boards and info screens and even the mood lights by the observation windows were out, pitching the whole drift into darkness. The background whine of the systems sputtered out.

Ollie cupped Ren’s face in his large hands. “Ren? Ren, was this you? Did you do this?”

The citizens of the drift were afraid, and murmurs escalated into talk, then cries and shouts, as unease set in when the systems remained off. A tide of fear rose and crested and the populace of Phoebus drift burst into panic.

The recruiter Darby had distracted stared with wide eyes at his data pad, undoubtedly seeing the codes Ren had cracked and the firewalls he’d bypassed. Or was he afraid? Stunned? Reading orders from his command as the drift sat dead in space? The glow from the data screen, the only source of light, lit his features casting him in eerie shadows. He jumped to his feet, his chair skittered away behind him, and he ran.

Ren stood, but his legs collapsed beneath him, and only Ollie grabbing him kept him on his feet. The stars outside the window no longer spun idly by. The air recyclers shut off. The only system Ren detected was the grav, and even that quaked in his chest, dared to fail, and send the populace floating. The airlocks held, but docking had shut down. Sensors went dark. Communications silenced.

Ollie shook him again. His large hands were like iron on Ren’s biceps. “Ren!”

“This wasn’t me. This isn’t me.” A shiver crept down Ren’s spine.

Rowan, having abandoned her lookout post, appeared. “Run.” Rowan pulled Ren by the wrist. “Ren, we have to leave. We have to leave now before this place is torn apart!”

Ren froze. A recognizable star signature pinged his senses, echoed his own power, and pulsed under his skin.

“She’s here.” He swallowed. “Millicent is here.”

3

Phoebus descended into chaos.

Ollie lifted Ren and slung him over his shoulder, despite Ren’s protests.

“I can face her!”

“No,” Ollie said. He grabbed Darby’s hand and hauled her out of her seat. Frozen with fear, her face pale, her limbs locked, it took both Ollie’s and Rowan’s physical urging to get her to move.

“What’s going on?” Darby asked, voice small and terrified. She clutched Rowan’s arm and stumbled as the four of them moved through the crowd. “What’s happening? It’s not a blip. It’s too long to be a blip.”

“This drift is under attack,” Rowan said. “And we’re not staying around to find out by whom.”

“It’s her,” Ren said. He hung over Ollie’s broad back. Ollie’s shoulder dug into his stomach, aggravating his wound. He didn’t appreciate being carried around like a sack of parts, but he didn’t trust his ability to stay with them amid the frenzied crowds. Using so much power and exercising the amount of control needed to finesse the data had drained his atrophied body. Someone slammed into Ollie; pain sliced down Ren’s torso and robbed him of his breath.

People ran and screamed. They pounded on locked doors. They yelled for others in the dark. They bumped into each other, pushed through crowds, and ran from the lifts to the stairs and back attempting to find an exit.

Through it all, Ollie and Rowan strode with a purpose, heading to the access stairs that led to the docks.

“Put me down,” Ren said, tears gathering in his eyes at the sheer terror of the citizens. “I can fight her.”

“No,” Ollie said again.

Ren struggled in his grip, and Ollie’s grasp went tighter until it was painful.

“I can help these people. Please, let me help.”

Rowan paused long enough to turn and grab Ren’s face in one hand. Her thumb and fingers dug into his cheeks as she lifted his head. Her green eyes blazed.

“Do I need to remind you what happened? What she can do? She manipulated you. She made you a ghost. She betrayed you, and you almost died. The only people you’ll be helping is us to get off this drift before Millicent vents it.”

Rowan let go, and Ren sagged.

They maneuvered through the crowd. Rowan dragged Darby by the wrist as though she was a disobedient child. Ollie’s imposing figure cut a path through the masses, but the crowd became denser as they neared the exit that led to the docking platform.

A crowd had formed around the door to the access stairs. The mass swelled; the poor souls in the front were squished into the metal walls. The banged their hands and fought to pry the door open.

“Ren,” Rowan said.

“If I do it, she’ll know I’m here. She’ll know I’m alive. She won’t let me go.”

Rowan made a frustrated noise. “What do we do?”

“Get to the front and put me down, and I’ll tell you how to do it manually.”

Ollie shouldered through, shouting for people to move. Gently, he set Ren on his feet, and Ren leaned heavily against the wall with Darby tight to his side. If he fell, he’d be trampled, and the information about Asher and about his brother would be lost.

“The problem is a lack of energy source. Open the access panel,” Ren said.

Ollie gripped the metal and peeled it back to reveal the innards of the mechanism.

“Rowan, pull your pulse gun.”

“Are you serious?”

Someone jostled close, and Ren grunted. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

Muttering under her breath, Rowan pulled her gun from the holster. “Now what?”

Ren had fixed weapons in the citadel’s courtyard long ago. He’d made Asher’s weapon fall to pieces in the snowstorm, and he’d disabled the weapons from the Corps. Rowan’s would have much the same layout.

“Pop open the handle and find the energy source. Ollie, there should be a clump of wires that lead into the wall. Pull them out.”

They worked quickly, and, after a moment, Rowan held a gleaming cube in her palm, and Ollie had several wires in his fist. Ren took the power source and found the connector he needed.

“Okay, so it’s not going to be enough power for the door to open all the way, but it should pop it free for us to squeeze through.”

Ren jammed the connector into the source. Sparks flew, and a shock sped through Ren’s hands into his skin and up through his body to his chest. His hair stood on end, and a hint of ozone wafted into the air. His heart stuttered, but the door opened wide enough for Ollie to slide through. Back against the frame, hands on the door itself, Ollie pushed. His muscles strained, and his face flushed, and his features twisted up in exertion, but, with a screech of metal, the door skated into the wall socket.

The crowd surged forward, and Ren was lucky that Ollie grabbed him and pulled him through with Darby following, her hands clasped tightly around Ren’s forearm. Rowan shoved herself through, then turned to face the swelling crowd.

“Get to the ships. Get your friends and family and get on a ship and hurry. Understand? You saw how we opened this door. Do the same for the others and clear the drift. That’s how you’re going to survive.”

“We should help them open other doors,” Darby said, breathless.

“We’ve done our good deed,” Rowan stalked by them. “We’re leaving.”

Clinging to Ollie’s strong arms, Ren didn’t argue. He focused on how they were going to get off the dock itself, especially since all systems were down. He’d have to use his power, and then Millicent would know he was there and so would whoever was with her, presumably Vos. They wouldn’t let him go. She’d never let him go if she thought she could convince him to join her and if she couldn’t, she’d see him dead. She’d tried to manipulate him for months and when she couldn’t, she’d left him to the nonexistent mercy of the Corps.

They made it to the Star Stream’s dock just as an announcement came over the drift-wide comm system.

“No need to be alarmed, citizens of Phoebus. Systems will all be restored once all Phoenix Corps soldiers and the local government have turned themselves over to the new regime.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up. That wasn’t Vos’s voice. It wasn’t Abiathar’s either. Someone new? Someone else seduced by Vos’s schemes?

“We suggest that all the populace find a safe space to wait. And we suggest that any holdouts to our demands recognize that their resistance will only lend to the destruction of their own people. We’d like this to be as painless a process as possible, but we are prepared to take drastic measures if necessary. Thank you.”

“Friendly and threatening. Sounds like a politician.” Rowan threw open the door to the cargo bay and shoved Darby through.

Ren frowned. He looked over his shoulder to see the surge of people in the docking area running for ships. He didn’t know the voice on the comm, but that was Millicent in the systems. He couldn’t mistake the sickly caress of her signature in his mind and over his skin. He ached with betrayal and burned with revenge. His stomach turned at the thought of how she’d pulled him into the circuits on the ship and pushed him out of the communication tower on Crei, how she could control his star in a way he couldn’t.

She may be able to manipulate him, but he was more powerful. He didn’t have to touch an object to exert his will over it. She did. Which meant she had to be on the drift. She had to be there, among the crowd.

He could find her. He could find her and….

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” Rowan jostled Ren into the Star Stream and closed the door after Ollie. “I know that look. It’s the ‘I have a stupid idea’ look.”

Ren’s legs gave out and he sank to the deck plate. Splayed on the cool surface, he rolled his head to stare at the other three. “Millicent has to touch whatever she’s controlling. That means she is on the drift. She’s there. Among the crowd. With whoever that is with her. We could find her. We could stop her. I could stop her.”

“No. And it doesn’t matter.” Rowan crouched and poked his cheek. Her hard stare pierced him. “Did you get the information about Asher? Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bara.”

“Then that’s where we are going. We’re not interfering here. We’ve learned our lesson about dealing with Vos and Millicent and becoming embroiled in their feud with the Corps.” Ren placed a hand protectively on the side of his stomach; his fingers spread over the fabric of his shirt. Her sharp gaze drifted to the wound. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His side throbbed, but the stiches held, despite the unceremonious way Ollie had hauled him around.

“What about me?” Darby asked. She hovered by the airlock door, one hand on the locking mechanism as if she was going to flee to the drift. Face pale, obviously terrified, she looked from one of them to the other.

Rowan straightened. She put her hands on her hips. “Do you want to stay on Phoebus? Or do you want to come with us to Bara?”

Darby narrowed her eyes. “Neither. The deal was for you to take me to another drift.”

“And we will. After we’ve found my brother.”

“You’re kidnapping me?” Her voice went high, breaking on the last word.

Rowan rolled her eyes. “Hardly. We’re saving you. Or did you forget the power outage and the mass panic going on right outside the door? And the threat announced? Do you want to be here when a new regime takes over?” Rowan swept her hand toward the exit. “You’re more than welcome to leave.”

Eyes wide, Darby shook her head.

“Besides, we can’t really kidnap anyone.” Lucas appeared at the top of the stairs with Penelope close behind. “Docking is completely dark, and we can’t leave until someone lets us out.” Lucas crossed his arms and leaned on the railing. His goggles mussed his hair. “We’re stuck unless Ren here can do anything about it.”

“What’s going on out there?” Penelope asked. She looped her arm through Lucas’s.

“Millicent,” Ren said.

Penelope gasped, her hand flew to her mouth, and Lucas made a face. “Great.” Lucas scuffed his boot against the deck. “Return of the creepy lady with questionable understanding of personal space.”

Darby’s eyebrows raised. “You guys really have a problem with this person.”

“Understatement,” Ren muttered.

“We have to leave.” Penelope tugged Lucas closer. “She’ll recognize the ship. She’ll know we’re here, that Ren’s here. She could hurt him again.”

Ren pushed his body to sitting and grimaced at the pull on his injury and the weakness of his limbs. “We could fight.”

“No,” Rowan and Ollie said immediately in unison.

Ren sighed, but they were right. He was too weak. “We could wait it out. Hope that Millicent doesn’t realize we’re here and wait for systems to resume once the Corps and the government turn themselves over. If whoever that was on the comm system keeps their promise.”

Rowan cocked her hip to the side. “Or?”

“Or you let me open the docking bay, and we leave.”

Rowan shook her head so her braid swung behind her. “It’s too dangerous. We know what she can do to you, and, if she realizes you’re here, she’ll waste no time in trying to keep you here or kill you. No, we need a better option.”

Being reminded of his own inability began to wear on his nerves. Ren listed to the side. “There are no other options! Unless we try to pop the dock like we did the door!”

“That would mean we would have to manually access the docking system, which is more than likely housed in the control center, which would be in the middle of the drift.” Ollie stepped forward. He crossed his bulging arms. “I could do it. If Ren could talk me through it over the comms.”

“No!” This time it was Penelope and Rowan speaking together.

Rowan touched his arm. “We’ve lost Asher. We’re not losing you too.”

“Great, just great!” Darby threw up her hands. “We’re stuck here. I’m stuck here, apparently, since you are kidnapping me! Again, I might add! And there’s no way out unless we can magically transport out of this bay without being noticed by a creepy lady and her handler. Right? Am I right?”

Lucas’s head snapped up. “Say that again.”

“Kidnapping!”

“No! Magical transport.” Lucas whipped his head around to stare at Ren. “Can you do it? Would she feel it?”

“It wouldn’t matter if she felt it. We’d be long gone. Right?” Rowan asked, leaning on the stair railing.

“I can do it.” He wasn’t sure, but it was their only option. “She’d know I am alive. I think she’d feel the disturbance, but she might not, especially if she’s occupied with other things.”

“We don’t know if she knows you were dead in the first place. She had left before the…” Penelope waved her hands. “Shooting, right?”

“This is our chance. We’re taking it.” Ollie held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to the bridge.” Hauling Ren to his feet, Ollie guided him to the stairs.

Ren gripped the railing and shook off Ollie’s help. “Everyone stay here. I’ll do it. I don’t want to… accidentally hurt anyone.”

“Better hurry.” Rowan jerked her head toward the airlock. “We have no idea what’s going on out there.”

Nodding, Ren climbed the stairs and, leaning hard against the bulkhead, stumbled to the bridge. His pulse raced. Sweat beaded along his hairline. The last time he’d done this, he’d been under extreme duress, pressed into the corner of the bridge, shaking and afraid. Abiathar’s tow lines had thunked into the hull, and he’d threatened Ren’s newfound friends. He’d wanted Ren as a weapon, and the terror of being captured again, of having whatever this power was used against innocent people, had been enough to push Ren over the edge. Panicking, Ren had tapped into something.

He’d once thought of his star as akin to water. He could navigate a stream, but not the river that raged inside him. His control was a dam and it had broken with his fear, and he’d flooded and transported the entire ship across the cluster.

He could do that again.

Ren’s body trembled just as last time, but not from fear. He slid to the floor, propped himself against the navigation controls, and closed his eyes.

It was never easy. There was always the anxiety of burning too brightly, filling up with too much, becoming something other than Ren. He didn’t have Asher to pull him back, to ground him in his humanity. But he was intimately connected to the ship now: her systems, her personality, her capabilities. He’d spent the last six weeks inhabiting the wires and switches, surviving in the circuits and systems, thriving in the ether between potential and kinetic energies. He could do this.

Palms pressed to the hull, Ren gritted his teeth and focused.

“Not to interrupt,” Lucas said, hopping into his pilot chair. It creaked beneath him. Ren startled and opened one eye to squint at Lucas. “But I’ve pulled up a chart for you on the navigation console. Bara is the green glob in the northeast quadrant. If you could get us close, there would be less time between now and Asher’s rescue.” He cleared his throat. “No pressure or anything.”

“No pressure.” No pressure but the possibility of another capture. No pressure except the fate of this crew, his family. No pressure except that Asher’s rescue lay beyond his reach unless he could save them first. No pressure. Ren’s anxiety ticked up. His heart beat in his ears.

Ren clenched his eyes shut and listened for Lucas’s retreating footsteps. Once they’d faded, he dove into the ship’s systems and pulled the stopper that held back the full force of his power. His star flooded through him, filled him with warmth and light, and electricity crackled through his veins, played over his skin, dripped from his fingers in torrents of white and blue light. Energy flowed from him to the ship and from the ship into him. He poured into the nav system and followed the directions Lucas had left behind.

Ren’s hair stood on end. The air sizzled. Blue frizzles of power gathered in the corners of the bridge. Ren pushed and pushed. He grunted and gritted his teeth. Willing the coordinates, he overwhelmed the system, bent the physics of travel and space and time. The star pulsed under his skin and slammed into the ship, into the circuits. Ren’s bones creaked. His muscles burned. His throat scorched on a yell.

A blast of light and sound rocketed from the Star Stream, and everything dissolved into blinding white.

* * *

Ren woke to the sound of water lapping gently at the shore. Water tickled the bottom of his feet and dampened the cuffs of his trousers. Cracking his eyes open, Ren turned his head and was greeted by the sight of waves bleeding up the smooth bank of the beach. His fingers curled into the wet sand; particles dug under his fingernails. His clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin in the humidity.

Ren sat up. The low-slung sun cast sparkles on the water, and he squinted against the riotous orange and pink hemorrhaging across the horizon. His head pounded. His mouth was dry. His body ached. He pulled his knees to his chest and hunched forward, dug his toes into the beach, and sighed as cold foam washed over them.

“What the weeds happened to you?”

Ren straightened and craned his neck. “Liam?”

A boy stood next to Ren’s shoulder. It sounded like Liam, but it didn’t look like him. The Liam he knew had a full face and red hair and freckles. This person who sat down next to him had hollow cheeks free of baby fat, and was pale, as if he had never seen the sun. His red hair sat limply on his forehead, and the once-vibrant fire color had faded to resemble a dying leaf. He wore a beige outfit, like the medical scrubs Ren had awakened in, and they swallowed his frame.

Ren inhaled sharply, then coughed. “Liam?”

Knees bent to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around them in a mirror of Ren’s pose, the person beside him turned his head and blinked.

“Who else would it be?”

Ren moved quickly, and his head spun, but that didn’t stop him from tackling Liam to the sand. He hugged his brother as they tumbled over each other and laughed. Liam thumped him on the back and chuckled in Ren’s ear; his voice was lower than Ren remembered.

They stopped rolling, and Ren shoved Liam off. He pulled away and held Liam by the shoulders at arm’s length. His grin split his face; his cheeks hurt. “You look so different.”

“So do you.” Liam grinned. He ran his hand over Ren’s head. “I like it.”

Ren pushed Liam’s shoulder, and Liam playfully smacked his hand away.

Settling next to his brother so their shoulders touched, Ren stared out over the water. “Is this a dream?”

Liam snorted. “Obviously.”

“Good, I wasn’t sure.”

Eyebrows raised, Liam frowned. “Why?”

“I think I may have just done something stupid. I can’t really remember what happened but… I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“Well, you are. If you were anything else, you couldn’t be here.”

Ren pushed his fingers into the sand. The grains, warm from the sun, rubbed over his skin. “I always dream about this lake.” Ren frowned, remembering his visit to Erden. “I hate this lake.”

Chuckling, Liam knocked shoulders. “I’m doing this. Not you. And stop it. You love this lake.”

“I did. Not now.”

“Ah, too good for us dusters now that you’re on a spaceship? Have you become a full spacer?”

Ren huffed a laugh. “Not quite.”

“Good.” Liam slung his arm over Ren’s shoulders. “Just because you’ve changed doesn’t mean you can’t look back at your past with a little fondness.”

That sounded parroted. Not like Liam at all. Unease pricked at Ren’s nape. “How mature.”

“I talked with Mom,” Liam said, expression sheepish. “She told me about your visit and how things ended.”

Ren stiffened. “You can enter her dreams?”

“It’s easier with other star hosts. And I get it. You’re mad because she didn’t tell us. Especially you. They set you up for a life you didn’t want. I’m sorry about that.”

Rubbing his brow, Ren relaxed under Liam’s arm. “I would’ve told you I saw them, but I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“I’m your brother. I’ve known you my whole life. Of course, I understand. It weeding sucks.”

“Then you understand why I’m never going back, right?”

Liam’s mouth tightened. “Yeah.”

Ren hid his wince. Liam wanted to go back. He had never wanted to leave. Was he thinking about how he might not step on soil again? Was he thinking about how he might not hug his parents? Or dunk his brother in the lake again? Even if Ren could find him, he might not be able to rescue him.

Liam cleared his throat. He unwound his arm from Ren’s shoulders and picked up a stray shell. He shook off the clinging sand. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. I thought… well…” He furrowed his brow, and his throat bobbed. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I guess I was wrong.”

Ren grimaced. “I was… incapacitated.” He squinted against the bright sun and noticed how it had stalled on the horizon. “I was injured.”

“Understatement. Was it her? That other one?”

“Yes. You warned me about her. I should’ve known.”

Liam shrugged. “I wasn’t sure. This power thing is still new. I’m learning the nuances. But your dreams always seemed… off… when she was near you.”

“She was influencing me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know she could do that.”

Liam nodded. “I don’t know the depths of what I am capable of. Do you?”

That was a sobering question. “No. I don’t. And I don’t know if I want to.” Ren met Liam’s gaze. “Do you know where you are? Are they still monitoring you?”

Liam’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I don’t know where I am. And no, they can’t monitor me. They never could.” He sighed; his gaze dropped to his hands where he played with the shell. “When I woke up here, I was scared. I was scared they would kill me if I wasn’t useful. They heavily implied it. So, I did what they told me to. I went into people’s dreams and drew out information and fed it to the guys that brought me food. I thought they would know if I lied or if I couldn’t reach the people they wanted. But after being here a while, I’ve realized, they can’t follow me here.” He swept his hand toward the lake. “If those weeds knew how to dream-walk, then they wouldn’t need me. They’re not going to kill me. They don’t know if what I tell them is true or not. I keep it vague and give them kernels of truth, but never the whole.” He squinted, his green eyes narrowing against the suspended setting sun. “I don’t know who they are, but I know I’m not helping them anymore.” He threw the shell into the lake. It skipped once, twice, three times, but instead of plunging into the water, it kept bobbing across the surface, disappearing into the infinite.

Ren swallowed. “It’s the Phoenix Corps. I saw your name in their files.”

Liam’s eyebrows ticked up. “Do you know where I am?”

“No.” Ren shook his head. “I didn’t get a chance to find out. But I won’t stop looking. I promise.”

Liam smiled fully. “I have to go.” Liam stood and wiped the sand from his pants. “You’re going to wake up soon.”

Ren hopped to his feet. The lake wavered. The sky thinned. The trees flicked out of existence one by one. Sand disappeared from his fingers. “I’ll see you again?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

They hugged, and Ren squeezed Liam tightly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, big brother.” Liam pulled away. And it was his turn to hold Ren at arm’s length and look him over. “Promise me, Ren. If you have a chance to run away, to be safe, to live a life. Take it. Don’t put yourself in danger for me.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Liam shook his head. “It was worth a try.” He punched Ren in the arm before walking away. “Don’t be a weed,” he called over his shoulder. His body slowly became transparent.

“Take care,” Ren called back.

Liam waved, and the dream fizzled out.

4

Ren startled to wakefulness. Sprawled on the deck near the nav system, he lifted his head. The crew stood around him. They stared at him with varying degrees of concern or, in Darby’s case, open wonder. They seemed unharmed, which filled Ren with relief.

“Did I do it?”

Ollie’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Are you okay?”

“You passed out.” Penelope knelt by his side and took his hand in hers. She pushed two fingers against his wrist, where Ren’s pulse thudded hard under the thin skin. “It’s a disturbing trend.”

Eyes squinted, Darby peered at him as if he was a bug under glass. Rowan pushed her back. “Give him room and a minute. Are you okay, Ren?”

Ren opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t what he was worried about. “Did I do it? Did I transport us?”

“Yeah,” Lucas rubbed a hand through his hair, knocking his goggles askew. “You did it. But uh… when I said to shoot for Bara, I meant the general vicinity.”

Pushing up onto his elbows, Ren squirmed away from Penelope. Ollie grabbed his arm, helped Ren to his feet, and held him steady. His head spun. Pushing the heel of his palm to his forehead, he looked through the vid screen. But he could see nothing but a blanket of black. “How badly did I mess up? I didn’t hurt the ship, did I?”

Lucas laughed nervously. “Of course not. You didn’t hurt the ship. I don’t think you are capable of damaging it. You’re like best friends.”

“Then what did—”

“You put us on the planet!” Darby’s eyes were wide. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Your terrifying science-magic transported us and now we’re on a planet, you freak!”

Ren winced. “Oh.”

“How is that possible?” She waved her arms. “You shouldn’t be able to do that. No one should be able to do that. How did you bend physics? How did we jump in time and space? Why are the rest of you not freaking out?”

Rowan crossed her arms. Lucas shrugged. Penelope pursed her lips.

Ollie chuckled, the sound low and deep. “You get used to it.”

“You get used to it?” Darby’s voice went shrill.

“I put us in a forest?”

“If that’s a cluster of green things, then yes. That’s where you put us.” Lucas patted Ren’s shoulder. “Good job.”

“On Bara?”

“Yeah.”

Ren’s gaze flitted back to the screen.

“It’s the planet’s night time,” Rowan said by way of explanation. “It doesn’t help that there is a canopy of green things above us that’s blocking out the light. We had to open the aft airlock to sneak a peek while you were passed out. Not only did you drop us on the planet, you made sure we are well hidden.”

Ren rubbed his hands over his face. “I guess that’s good.”

“It’s amazing, considering our hopeful expectations were that we wouldn’t blow up.” Lucas grinned. Penelope smacked him in the arm.

“Why don’t we have a bite to eat and rest. And we’ll figure out our next move once it’s morning on this planet. Whenever that might be.”

The group agreed with Penelope, and, with Ollie lending a shoulder, Ren followed the crew to the common room.

* * *

“I talked to my brother,” Ren said, when only he, Ollie, and Rowan were left in the common room. Rowan stopped drying a dish, and Ollie looked up from the box of broken tech. He handed Ren a burned-out part to an air-recycling system.

“When?” Rowan asked. She placed the dish on a stack. It clinked against the others with more force than she’d been using.

“When I was asleep. He came to me in a dream.”

She nodded. “Did he tell you anything?”

Ren turned the tech over in his hands, frowning at the blackened wires and broken relays. He prodded it with his star and realized the energy to fix it wouldn’t be worth it.

“He doesn’t know where he is, but I saw his name when I looked through the files on Phoebus. There was a list of people like me. My name was there, which is how I found Asher’s location. There was also a death certificate.” Ren’s voice dropped on the last part. He ghosted his hand over his wound. Pain and fire danced along the edges of his senses, the report of the shot echoed in his ears, and the memory of metal on his tongue filled his mouth.

“I guess you didn’t get a look at your brother’s location?” Ollie took the part from Ren’s lax grip and switched it for a salvageable one.

Ren shook his head; the memories fell away. “No. I didn’t. But the Corps has him. That I know for certain.”

Rowan rinsed out a cup. “He wasn’t on Crei with Vos. He wasn’t on Erden at your village or the refugee location.”

“Vos never had him.”

“The Corps could have him stashed anywhere.” Ollie dug around in the box. “They were on Erden. They were on Crei. They’re here on Bara. Who knows what other planets they’ve set up on? Or what they’re doing here.”

“We’ll ask Asher that question when we get him back.” Rowan finished with the dishes and dropped the towel on the counter near the sink. She leaned back against it, facing them, her elbows behind her. “I’m sure he’s been doing his own reconnaissance, that selfless cog.”

Ren’s vision went blue as he repaired the mobile comm system Ollie handed him. His stomach twisted at the mention of Asher’s self-sacrifice. “I’m sure he has.”

“Liam could be in Perilous Space.” Ollie shrugged. “Isn’t that where they took that general?”

Rowan scoffed. “They wouldn’t put a child in Perilous Space.”

“He’s sixteen now. Not so much a child anymore. And they would if they thought he was a danger to them,” Ren said, frowning at the thought. It’s what they had threatened him with after all. Ren had perceived their threats to ship him off to prison as having to do with Ren’s potential for misconduct because of his technopathic ability. It was the technopaths they had gone to war with so long ago. Now, Ren knew they thought all star hosts had equal potential for uprising and treason.

Perilous Space made startling sense. Ferret out the star hosts living on the planets and shuttle them off to a place where they would be isolated and, in theory, wouldn’t be able to start trouble. Abiathar was already there, and he was dangerous around other star hosts since he could coerce them to do things against their will. Unless… he’d been subdued.

Liam wasn’t subdued because the Corps needed him to gather intelligence.

“He has to be there.”

Rowan pushed off from the sink. “You thought he was on Erden, and he wasn’t. Then you thought he was on Crei, and he wasn’t. I don’t think we’re going to risk going to Perilous Space to find out he’s not there either.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Ren said. He drew his eyebrows together. “Not there.”

“We’ll find Ash first. And then we’ll decide what we’re doing from there. Ren, we can’t fight every battle. We’re not equipped to save the cluster.”

Ren half-smiled. “I know.”

“Good. And even if we could, is it really our place? What obligation do we hold to these people?”

Ren shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I only know how to take care of my family, and that’s what I’m going to do. Idiot dusters included.” She rubbed a hand over his head. “I miss ruffling your hair.”

Ren ducked his head and blushed. He accepted another piece of tech from Ollie and focused on the circuits and the mechanisms as Rowan left the common area.

Rowan was right. The Star Stream and her crew were not equipped to save the cluster. Stars, they were barely equipped to save themselves. But he was. He was power and light, and he would fight until Asher was safe, he would fight until his brother was safe, and he wouldn’t stop until Vos and the Phoenix Corps couldn’t tear any more families apart, couldn’t use the people of the cluster and the planets for their own gain ever again.

* * *

When the sun came up after a few hours, the light barely filtered through the thick foliage that surrounded them. Ren thought he’d dropped the ship in the middle of a forest. He was wrong. These weren’t the trees he was used to on Erden: tall, thin evergreens filled with needles, and deciduous trees with leaves that would turn bright red and gold in the autumn. These weren’t the smooth laurels of the refugee camp where his family had fled.

These trees were clumped together, breaking out of the ground, then twisting toward the light, tangling with the canopy overhead. Thick, green vines wrapped and climbed the trees and hung, webbing them together, while large spiky fronds sieved the light between their spindles. Roots bubbled up from the ground in intricate networks, and moss clung to every surface of rock and bark. The canopy spread above, a barrier between them and the sky. In the spaces where light reached the ground, dense vegetation grew, filled with thorns and leaves bigger than a full-grown human. Wild birds called to each other with shrill voices and fluttered with vibrant plumage from perch to perch. Small animals scampered in the brush.

Ren stood at the open airlock. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck and rolled over his skin. The humidity was an oppressive blanket and it settled in his lungs with every breath. He craned his neck to look up. “We’re not flying out of here.”

Rowan stood at his shoulder. “No, we’re not.” She flinched away when a loud caw echoed close by. “This is too much nature.”

“What is this place?” Lucas asked, standing on his toes, peering out over Rowan’s shoulder. “And what is that?”

Ren shifted his gaze to where Lucas pointed to find the largest snake he’d ever seen. He yelped as it slithered close to the ship with its the smooth scales shining brown and black. Ren jumped back. He slammed the door, eyes blazing blue, arms tucked close to his chest.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen one of those in a drift zoo. It’s a snake. Right?”

“I don’t like snakes.” Ren shuddered. “And that thing was big enough to eat us.”

“They eat humans? Unreal.” Lucas adjusted his goggles. “So, no wandering around without a buddy then. Not that I would. Too much… fresh air and dirt and danger.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “We need to find the Phoenix Corps base where Asher is being held. I doubt it’s around here though.”

“Use the sensors. See if you can pick up a settlement.” Lucas leaned on the bulkhead. “You know what Corps tech feels like, right?”

Ren nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“But even if we’re close, I don’t know about traversing this...” she waved her hand.

“Jungle,” Ren said.

“Jungle.” Rowan pursed her lips. “It’s thick and there are things out there.”

Lucas snorted. “Never thought I’d see my captain afraid of a little dust.”

Tugging on her braid, Rowan narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? You think I’m afraid?”

Lucas held up his hands. “I think everyone should have a healthy fear of planets. Seriously. Who likes dust and dirt and… fauna.”

“You know you’re coming with us now, right?” Lucas sputtered out a protest, but Rowan raised her hand. “Save it. We’ve determined we don’t need a pilot, but we will need someone proficient with maps.”

Lucas wilted. “You’re not joking.”

“No.”

“Aw, stars.”

Ren snickered. Lucas punched Ren in the shoulder, and Ren stumbled into the wall. He leaned on it heavily and rubbed the sore spot.

“If we’re done acting like children,” Rowan said, glaring, “we need to prepare. Ren, use the sensors and see what you can find. Lucas, get ready.”

Grumbling, Lucas headed for the bridge. Rowan patted Ren on the shoulder. “Are you going to be able to hike through a jungle? You’re still weak.”

“I’m better. I can do it.”

Rowan sighed. “I’m not going to argue.”

She read in his expression that he was not going to be left behind. He was going to rectify his mistakes. He was going to find Asher even if it took hiking through a thousand jungles and encountering a thousand snakes.

“Find him.” She headed for the stairs. “Find him, then we’ll plan.”

Ren left the cargo bay and ended up in the common room. He slumped onto the couch, closed his eyes, and relaxed into the worn cushions. Maybe after everything was over Ren could convince Rowan to get a new couch.

Ren tapped into the comms. “Lucas, watch the vid screen. I’ll put what I find on there.”

Lucas responded with a mutter of acquiescence.

Flooding into the ship’s sensors, using them to boost his power, Ren reached out in a circle from the ship and gradually expanded the perimeter. He didn’t have to travel far until he was overwhelmed with feedback from tech. A cluster of ships, a comm tower, and a docking platform were nearby, they were merely… up. Beyond the canopy, almost directly above them. It was promising, but not what he was looking for.

Brows knit together, Ren pushed out farther until he encountered more signatures. A small town, maybe? Not Phoenix Corps—Ren didn’t recognize the tech.

He didn’t know how much farther he could go, but he ballooned outward, ignoring the transports that flew from the ground to the spaceport and the kitchen appliances that whirred on the edge of his consciousness and the messages that hovered in the air. Frowning, he scanned and spread and there! A ping of a Corps weapon! Ren pulled his circle in, then focused on that direction, and shot out in a line. Corps tech flooded him. Weapons and generators and forcefields bled into him. Communications buzzed beneath his eyes, and vehicles hummed in his chest, and data pads tickled over his skin.

Ren threw the information on the vid screen of the bridge and listened over the comm to the rest of the crew’s reactions.

“I’ve got it, Ren,” Lucas said. “You can pull back.”

Ren snapped into his body like a rubber band and tipped sideways onto the couch.

“That is cogging weird,” Darby said from her perch on the table. “Your eyes glow and your face goes totally blank.” She waved a hand in front of her nose. “Like you’re not there at all.”

“You’re calmer now,” Ren said.

Darby waved her hand. “I needed my moment of escalation, but I’m good now. I think. I’m more curious. If I had punched you, would you have felt it?”

Ren blinked. “Uh… yes?”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try. How does the freaky science-magic work? And why do they…” She lifted her chin in the direction of the hallway that led to the bridge. “…get all jittery when you do it?”

“They do?”

“Are you kidding me? They’re like a rare-meteorite peddler in a room full of thieves. You know… skittish.”

“I understood the metaphor.”

Chin in her hand, knees bent, she shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a duster. You have different frames of reference.”

Ren didn’t want to have this conversation lying down and grudgingly pushed to a sitting position. “There is always a price to… freaky science-magic. I need to have an anchor, or I might forget that I’m human.”

Darby’s mouth thinned into a line. “Okay. And I’m guessing someone on this ship is your anchor.”

Grimacing, Ren looked away. “I lost my anchor. But I’m going to get him back.”

“Ah. That explains a few things. I think. Maybe. Okay, not really.”

Ren sighed. He rubbed his temples. “I haven’t been well, and my perceptions of some situations were wrong. Part of that was someone manipulating me. The other part was me and how I panic sometimes. And I scared the crew. I scared myself.”

Darby wrinkled her nose. “But they trust you.”

“I think so.”

“That wasn’t a question.” Darby brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear and leaned in. “They may get skittish, but they trust you. They trusted you to get the information from that data pad. They trusted you to get us through that locked door on the drift. And then they trusted you to transport us across the cluster. And now, they trust you to find the missing crewman.”

“How do you know that?”

She waved her hand. “Gaining trust is kind of my specialty. I learned how to recognize it young and how to exploit it. Don’t worry,” she amended hastily. “I’m not trying to pull anything on your crew. I’m not addled.”

“Thanks,” Ren said drily.

She pulled back. “I don’t get it, though. Why do they put so much faith in someone who scared them? How can they believe in you?”

“Because they’re good people. They’re my friends, my family.”

She threaded her fingers and rested her chin on them with her elbows planted on her knees. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in companionable silence. Darby dropped into a chair and bounced her leg on the deck plate. Her gaze was far away. Ren saw someone different from the cocky thief with the big mouth who had stolen aboard their ship looking for a quick credit. He saw a vulnerable young woman who readily left a drift with a bunch of strangers because there wasn’t someone for her to run back for and save from the chaos. He saw a girl who questioned kindness and didn’t quite grasp forgiveness. He saw someone who was as lost as he sometimes felt.

He was glad of the quiet and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He was scared of what he’d find or wouldn’t find beyond the thick crush of nature that surrounded the ship. Was Asher really here? Would they be able to find him? Would they be able to free him? Would he want to be freed? Was he even trapped?

Before the doubts could completely creep in, Ollie’s voice boomed over the comm.

“All crew meet in the cargo bay. We’re going exploring!”

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Lucas said as he followed Ollie. For once, his goggles weren’t tangled in his brown hair, but were pulled down onto his face. In his hand he held a data pad that guided them. Their path to the village was a winding red line, and they were a blinking blue dot. “If I die, take my body to space and eject me into the nearest star. Please ensure my constituent atoms are able to roam the cluster freely and aren’t trapped on this dirt hole.”

“Stars, Lucas, I didn’t know you could be so dramatic.” Rowan walked behind him and picked her way through the overgrowth. “Does Pen know this side of you?”

“Of course she does.”

“I guess what they say is true then.”

“What’s that?” Lucas asked as he swatted away a large bug. He ducked and shrieked when it swooped at his head and then took off for a higher branch.

Rowan’s lips lifted in a small smile. “That love makes fools of us all.”

“Hey!”

Ollie snorted.

Ren rolled his eyes but couldn’t argue. Asher had done things for him that couldn’t be classified as rational, and he was tromping through a teeming rain forest on a hunch that Asher may be nearby.

Using a modified welder and a large knife they found in the cargo bay, Ollie cut a trail. In some parts of the rain forest, the canopy blocked all light and thus the growth on the floor wasn’t too difficult to maneuver through. Other than the trunks of skinny trees, there weren’t many obstacles. In other areas, where light did filter through gaps, the group encountered thick undergrowth that snagged their clothes and grew higher than their knees, sometimes their waists.

Ren, certain he’d disturbed some animal’s nest, grimaced as he trudged through the small opening Ollie had made. They’d seen the huge snake, and Ren had added colorful frogs, birds with magnificent plumage and loud caws, and something that had growled at them from a perch. He hadn’t caught of glimpse of it other than patterned fur, but Lucas had dropped the data pad and almost jumped into Rowan’s arms at the sound. Ren’s skin had prickled, and he’d wished he hadn’t turned down Rowan’s offer of a pulse gun.

It was difficult to determine the passage of time, since the sky wasn’t visible and the light seemed filtered, so, when the trees became sparse and the edge of the jungle was discernible, Ren was surprised to find it was twilight.

Rowan frowned. “Bara has short days.” Thunder rumbled above them, and rain smattered the leaves. “And frequent rain storms.”

“Great,” Lucas mumbled. He clutched the data pad to his chest. “We’re close. Finally. That village is ahead; the Corps camp is a little farther. There should be a road.”

Ren huddled into Asher’s jacket and tugged the collar higher around his ears. They trudged forward, breaking out of the jungle into a clearing.

Before them, the metal of buildings rose from the landscape and gleamed in the last of the sun’s rays. Houses made of wood and stone dotted the perimeter. It wasn’t a town, but a city, and it was certainly bigger than Ren’s village had been. It nestled between the rain forest on one side and a ridge of mountains on the other. Roads and buildings sprawled outward following the contours of the land. Craning his neck, Ren spied the towering space port; transports floated to land somewhere in the middle of a cluster of buildings. Along the ridges of the mountains, the sunlight reflected from structures, and Ren followed the line of development which connected the main part of the town in the basin with the buildings on the ridges all the way up to a bridge built out of the side of the mountain connecting to the spaceport. This gave access by both air and land to the platforms. It was genius.

“Wow,” Rowan said, shielding her eyes, as she also stared at the construction. “Who knew dusters could be so…” she waved her hand, looking for the word.

“Smart is the word you’re looking for,” Lucas said.

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Ollie said.

Ren huffed. “You’re all so arrogant.” He pushed past the others and headed into the town. “Come on.”

They passed a line of clothes becoming damp in the drizzle. Rowan tugged a dark cloak off the line. She tossed it to Ren.

“You and Ollie are going to go check out the Corps encampment. Lucas and I are going to stay here. I want to talk to a few locals.”

Furrowing his brow, Ren wrapped the cloak around him. He pulled up the hood. “Won’t you be noticed?”

Thumbs hooked into her pockets, she shook her head. “A town next to a spaceport with the Corps nearby, they’ll be used to travelers.” She scanned the city’s outskirts. “We’ll maintain comm silence until you contact us. We’ll meet back here.” She leveled a hard gaze at Ren. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Ren bit back a frown and nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good.”

Lucas smacked the data pad into Ollie’s chest. “Don’t break it. It’s precious to me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Rowan sighed and rolled her eyes. She pointed her finger at Ren then at Ollie. “Nothing stupid.”

Ollie and Ren skirted the city, which took longer than either of them would have guessed. The sky darkened, and clouds and thunder rolled ahead. Three sister moons glowed in the sky. Despite the descent of the sun, the heat didn’t abate, and sweat rolled down Ren’s skin, followed the curve of his spine, and gathered at his temples.

Transports whizzed past them, and they walked around carts pulled by small work animals, but the farther they went, the more the population thinned. Once they were the only ones on the road, Ollie tilted his head and Ren joined him to dart into a patch of trees.

“It’s just up ahead.”

“I know.” Ren tugged on his hood and concealed his face, except the burning blue of his eyes. The power generators from the camp thrummed under his skin. The warning beacons surrounding it pulsed in his ears, and forcefields hummed in his chest. The ping-back from weapons threatened to overwhelm him, but he centered his power with thoughts of seeing Asher again. He swallowed hard. “I can feel everything.”

Ollie flashed him a concerned look, and rested his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “We’ll be all right.”

“What if he’s not here?”

Ollie lifted an eyebrow. “Then we’ll look somewhere else.” His fingers squeezed. “We won’t stop searching for him.”

Fear clogged Ren’s throat. His muscles tingled with fatigue. He felt pinched and drawn, and his senses were drowned in tech.

“Let’s go.”

Ollie and Ren approached the Phoenix Corps camp—a bustling makeshift city of temporary housing—under the cover of the surrounding trees.

Ren sweated beneath his clothes; the rain only made the atmosphere muggy. Insects as big as Ren’s palm flew between the thick towering trees. Occasional howls and calls from local fauna cut through the silence of the night and sent chills down Ren’s spine.

Ren’s body tensed beneath his borrowed cloak. Clouds swept across the sky and obscured the stars, but one of the moons hung low and reflected the nearest star through breaks in the canopy to illuminate their path.

They skirted the perimeter, scouting the area, taking stock of the encampment. It wasn’t large like the citadel on Erden, rather the size of a village, but the power it generated was overwhelming. Ren did his best to catalogue the buildings and the tech signatures, feeding the information into the data pad. They’d decipher it later and form a plan.

Ollie and Ren picked a path in the brush that ran to the muddy earthen road connecting the city to the Corps encampment. Following it, they came around a sharp bend and stopped short.

In front of them sat a small cargo ship with the symbol of the Phoenix Corps emblazoned on the side and several Corps members. Ren hadn’t picked up the signatures from the transport or their weapons because his senses were flooded by the generators and the forcefields of the main camp.

Scrambling, Ollie and Ren ducked into a large pile of brush. Mud clung to Ren’s pants, and thorns caught on his cloak, but he didn’t dare move, almost didn’t dare to breathe as he peeked through the dense crush of foliage. He fervently hoped he hadn’t bothered any of the local wildlife, especially any snakes. Ollie crouched, his large body bent double as he clutched his pulse gun. Ollie held a finger to his lips, and Ren nodded.

Squinting, Ren made out four individuals in Corps uniforms around a small shuttle and a hovercraft that reminded Ren of the floaters back home. Pulling his power from the main area, Ren focused on the shuttle. It was old and damaged and had lost power. The smaller hovercraft hummed with low power, enough to float, but not near enough to make it to the spaceport towering over them a few miles away. Three of the four guards carried weapons, and all four wore comms.

“Did you hear that?” one of the Corps members asked, turning around to survey the area with weapon drawn.

“How could I hear anything over your complaining?” another one said. “You haven’t shut up since we left the main base.”

The original soldier huffed. “Well, I hate this place.” His voice rang out clear over the buzz of insects. He slapped his palm against his neck and grimaced. “Cogging bugs. They’re everywhere.” He shook out his hand.

“And the heat,” another one said. She tugged at her high collar. “It’s nighttime. Isn’t it supposed to let off? I feel like I’m going to suffocate. Where are the environmental controls?”

“This is a planet, cog. There aren’t environmental controls.” The second one wiped his brow. “Besides, if you didn’t whine so much then you wouldn’t waste the air.”

The fourth member, who lugged boxes between the shuttle and the hovercraft, let out a snort. The leader, a thick tall man, whipped out a baton and smacked it against the box he carried.

“Have something to say, Private?”

“No, sir.”

Ren stiffened. It couldn’t be. But Ren knew that voice. He’d heard it every night lying in a cell in a stone citadel. He’d heard it calling him back when he was immersed in the ship. He’d heard it whisper his name as he lay dying on a table.

Asher.

“You better not. And keep moving. Those supplies aren’t going to unload themselves. Cogging supply transport busted like it is. I don’t know how they expect us to get a job done with cheap equipment.” He kicked the ship. The solid thunk of sound echoed loud in the night, followed by a curse and laughter from the others.

Asher sidestepped him and grunted as he hefted the box higher, then trudged between the two vehicles. The leader glared at him.

Ollie clamped his hand over Ren’s shoulder, and that’s when Ren realized he’d pulled his body into a crouch and had inched closer.

A break in the cloud cover allowed the three moons and stars to light the whole clearing. And Ren could distinctly make out the small group. Yes, four of them, including Asher, who was unmistakable in the moonlight—his light hair and his muscular frame and the way he moved and the sound of his voice were all achingly familiar. His uniform was torn and disheveled, and his boots were caked with mud.

Asher carried another box and slid it into the bed of the hovercraft.

“I’m done.”

“Took you long enough, grunt. Stars, my grandmother could’ve done it faster. Is that why you were busted? For being a lazy cog?”

Asher remained silent.

“I heard it was because he went AWOL. Ran away from his post and hid,” the woman said. She sneered at him. “Job get too hard for the pampered little drifter prince?”

The third scoffed and joined the others in a semicircle around Asher. Rain fell heavier. Thunder rumbled.

“I heard he’s a traitor. Consorted with the enemy.”

“Oh yeah?” the leader asked. He prowled around Asher, moving closer. “Explains why leadership has been close-lipped about you. That true, grunt? Are you a traitor?”

Asher turned his head.

“I asked you a question. Are you a traitor?”

Asher tipped his head, looking to the sky.

“I think he’s refusing a direct order.”

“Sure looks that way.”

The leader laughed, low and menacing. “You know what happens to traitors, right?” The punch to Asher’s gut doubled him over. The shove had him on his hands and knees.

Asher coughed once, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. He shifted to stand in the mud, but slipped while the other Corps members around him laughed. Rivulets of rain ran down his face, and he wiped them away with his sleeve, smearing mud across the sharp jut of his cheekbones. He attempted to stand again, but was pushed back to the ground with a weapon that reminded Ren of the prods the soldiers’ used during his own captivity.

“How’s the dirt down there, Private? Does it taste good?”

The biggest of the three kicked Asher’s leg from under him and Asher fell all the way to the ground, landing on his bad shoulder. He grunted, features twisting in pain.

Ren burned. He moved to stand, but Ollie grabbed his arm, pulled him down, and shook his head.

Don’t do anything stupid. Stick to the plan. Ren needed to stick to the plan. But for that to happen, he needed to look away, and he couldn’t do that either.

“I asked you a question, Private!”

Asher laid in the mud, breathing hard. He stayed silent, expression hard, jaw clenched as he watched the three standing above him.

His silence seemed to anger them.

“Well, come on. On your feet.”

Asher rolled to his stomach and pushed up on his elbows. He was rewarded with a kick to his ribs which sent him sprawling. His chest heaved. His head splashed in a puddle. The three above him guffawed.

“He gave you an order. Get up.”

Asher grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m sorry, what was that, nub?”

Ren didn’t know what the word meant. It wasn’t a term he’d heard, but it meant something to Asher, because his entire demeanor changed. Asher staggered to his feet. He wiped his thumb over his bottom lip; blood smeared his chin. He looked at his thumb, then looked at the three that surrounded him.

“Don’t touch me again.”

“I don’t think I like your tone, nub.” The leader grabbed the weapon from his friend; the end of it sparked in the rain. He raised it, the energy hummed, the tip glowed blue and hovered close to Asher’s face.

Ren reached out, submerged himself in the power source and the mechanisms, and yanked. The weapon sputtered out, but he didn’t relinquish his hold, daring them to touch Asher again. He’d light it up, burn the safeties out of it, until it fizzed and popped, until it turned on the person wielding it. He’d done it before, at the citadel on Erden to Corporal Zag’s unit. He’d scorched them for daring to threaten his friends. He’d do more than that to these cogs, to these men who dared touch Asher, who dared to make Asher grovel in the wet earth.

The big man narrowed his eyes and cursed. He jimmied the handle, checked the power source, and cursed again when the tip wouldn’t light.

“Must be your lucky day,” he snarled at Asher.

Asher tossed a glance over his shoulder, scanning the tree line. “Must be,” he said, voice flat.

Ren shuddered as Asher’s hot gaze passed over his hiding place. Could he see Ren? Could he feel his presence?

“Shut up!” The big man gave Asher a shove. “Back to the cell with you.”

“Traitors get their own special private rooms.” The group laughed.

Asher turned away, but not without one last, longing look at the tree line. He hopped in the back with the cargo while the others piled in the front. They sped off in a puff of smoke and a spray of dirt.

Ren and Ollie emerged from their hiding place.

“We’re rescuing him. Tonight.”

Ollie nodded. “Agreed.”

“Let’s go.”

Ren turned, stride determined, expression grim, star throbbing in his middle, and stalked back the way they’d come. He burned with anger and with strength. He’d save Asher as Asher had saved him. No one would stop him. Then they’d scorch a brilliant contrail through the planet’s dense sky and leave the Phoenix Corps behind in a pile of ash.

5

Ren sank into the captain’s chair despite the look he received from Rowan. He had to. His atrophied legs and torso, exhausted from the trek to and from the Phoenix Corps encampment, couldn’t hold him up much longer.

On the screen in front of them flashed the information he’d secured from the scouting mission. Asher could be housed anywhere in the camp, but he was there. Ren had seen him, muddied and bleeding, but beautiful all the same. Based on the camp layout and the strong forcefield signature emanating from a small building toward the center, they’d guessed that was Asher’s probable whereabouts.

Darby sauntered onto the bridge as she bit into a piece of fruit she’d snagged from the bowl in the common area. She chewed loudly as she peered over Lucas’s shoulder at the map of the encampment on the vid screen. Her knee bumped Ren’s leg. He grimaced from the flash of pain and inched away.

“We need a diversion,” Rowan said, pointing to the map. “To draw everyone away from the cell.”

“I’m good at diversions,” Darby said, taking another bite.

Ren tilted his head. “This isn’t the kind of diversion we used to get the data pad.”

“Nah, that won’t work.” She pointed to the power generator. “You need to take that out.”

Rowan arched an eyebrow. “Take it out?”

Crunching, Darby nodded. “Yeah. Blow it up. Boom!” She made a motion with her hands that Ren guessed was supposed to be an explosion.

“Can you do that?”

She glanced at Ren. “Yes, and so can you. You can do it with your science-magic.”

“Ren will have other concerns than blowing things up. He’ll need his strength to disable the perimeter alarms and lower the forcefields and then to transport us since we won’t be able to fly out.” Rowan leveled a stare at Darby. “So, are you willing?”

Darby took another bite. “Oh, yeah. I love blowing things up.”

“Now,” Rowan tapped her lips, “how to get in.”

“Capture,” Ren said.

Rowan’s eyes widened. The group shifted their attention to him. Rowan caught on first.

“No.”

“Yes. They’ll take me to the cell, and I can power down the forcefields while Darby creates a diversion.”

“No, Ren. No. You can’t guarantee they’ll take you to the right building. They may kill you on the spot.”

“They can’t.”

“They have. Stars, Ren, are you addled?”

“I can do it.” In defiance, Ren straightened from his sprawl. His joints protested, and he bit his lip to keep from grimacing. “I need to do it. It’s the best way to guarantee Asher’s location. And I’d rather risk myself than any of you.”

“You’re still recovering,” Penelope said gently. “Maybe you should stay on the outskirts and do what you need to from afar.”

“I can’t,” Ren said. “I need to be close to—”

“That’s a coggin’ lie.” Rowan crossed her arms. “We all know you don’t have to be in the vicinity to do what you need to.”

Ren gritted his teeth. “I do this time.”

Ollie and Lucas exchanged a glance and backed away.

Rowan huffed, her green eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. “Don’t think you have a monopoly on wanting to free Ash. He’s my brother. He’s been a friend to this crew for years. You aren’t the only one who cares about what happens here. You aren’t the only one who loves him.”

Ren shot to his feet. “But I’m the one who put him there!” His legs quivered; his muscles strained to keep him upright. “It was my stupid decisions. My altered perceptions. My mistakes that forced Asher to give himself up to save me.” Ren’s eyes watered, and he scrubbed the tears away with the heel of his palm. Exhaustion pulled at him, and pain throbbed from his side to combine with the swirling emotions he struggled to keep in check. His chest heaved; his breathing hitched. “I need to save him.”

“Ren,” Rowan said softly, “after everything that’s happened, I can’t ask you to be taken captive.”

“I’m volunteering.” Ren’s voice wavered.

“What if it triggers a panic attack? What if they beat you? You couldn’t take that right now. What if they use iron shackles instead of a forcefield?”

All color drained from Ren’s face, and he fell back into the chair. He opened his mouth, but he had no response, much less any air.

“Then we’ll intervene,” Ollie said. “We’ll have a solid plan B in our pocket. But Ren is right. He can disable weapons and tech and has a better chance than any of us. This is the best way.”

Rowan slammed her fist on the console. The image of the camp wavered. “I know it’s probably the best way, but I will not give up one crew member for another, no matter who they are. I’m not losing anyone else. I can’t lose anyone else!” Her composure fractured. Her expression crumpled; her bottom lip trembled. Strands of hair escaped from her braid. Silence descended on the deck, and the only sound was Rowan’s harsh breathing. She turned away from them and bowed her head.

“Rowan,” Penelope said softly, but Rowan held up her hand and stopped her.

She shuddered, then turned, eyes red, but seeming collected, to address them. “I apologize for my outburst.” She rested her hands on her hips. “And if you are bent on following this course of action, I advise that we at least rest for a day. And then we’ll go. Ren can barely stand.”

Ren shook his head. “No,” he said cautiously, twisting his fingers, “we go tonight. We can’t let Asher stay there any longer. Not after what Ollie and I saw.”

Ollie sighed, then clenched his fists. “Captain, I agree with Ren.”

Lucas shrugged. “Well, you won’t have me complaining about getting off this humid, frightening rock.”

Rowan frowned and threw up her hands. “I guess it was my mistake to think I had any control over this crew anymore.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Darby said, crunching a mouthful of fruit, “I don’t think you had control to begin with.”

Rowan turned a murderous glare on Darby, and Darby shrank back to hide behind Ren.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, bringing the conversation back to topic, “the sooner we leave the better. The populace here aren’t keen on the Corps, and there are grumblings.”

Ren perked up. “What do you mean?”

“When Rowan and I were in the city, we hit up a bar and listened. The citizens aren’t happy the Corps is here, and there have already been a few scuffles between soldiers and townsfolk.”

Rowan cleared her throat. “We’ll use it to our advantage. Maybe the Corps will think our diversion was caused by the locals. It doesn’t hurt that they’ll capture a duster lurking around.” She pinned Ren with an intense stare.

Ren’s throat went dry, and he squirmed. The full implication of their plan was settling in, and with it, all the things that could potentially go wrong. But what choice did they have? He wouldn’t leave Asher there any longer.

“I’ll be fine,” he said to the unasked question. He hoped he wasn’t lying.

* * *

Ren approached the camp with his cloak pulled tight around his body and the hood pulled up to cover his face. The night had darkened considerably. The moons had moved, and only a few stars were visible behind wispy clouds. The air sat heavy and humid in Ren’s lungs. As he walked the road, his boots sank in the clinging mud and panic swelled in his chest. His throat tightened, and his breath whistled as if he sucked through a straw.

“You okay, Ren?” Rowan’s voice came over the comm clipped to the hood of his cloak.

He wasn’t. Everything hurt. Every joint creaked and protested as he moved. Every thump of his heart echoed in his temple. Every second out in the open made his skin crawl. Every pulse of electricity scorched through his veins.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

“Are you sure?”

Ren closed his eyes and sought out the nearest perimeter alarm. He found it a few feet away and set it off. Then he shut down all the others for Ollie and Darby. No turning back now. He stopped at the edge and waited.

“Yes. Alarms are down.”

“Remain calm.” Ollie’s voice was a comfort in his ear. “Darby and I are nearby.”

“I know.”

Ren stilled and waited. Soon the thump of approaching boots sounded, and the chatter of voices filled his ears. He crossed the perimeter line and ducked his head.

“Who are you?” Ren peeked from below the hood. The voice came from the large soldier who had kicked Asher. Ren bit his lip and fought the urge to latch on to the pulse gun in the soldier’s holster and exact revenge. Instead he held his body still. A beating like Asher had taken earlier would crush Ren in his still-healing state, and then they would need to enact their plan B. That plan was haphazard at best and put Ollie at risk—something Ren wouldn’t allow.

The soldier neared and slowed. He squinted at Ren and stopped a few feet away. Another soldier flanked him, and his comm crackled on his chest.

“What is it? Another animal? Or did it short out with the rain?”

“Some duster,” he responded. He lifted his chin. “Are you going to answer me? Who are you? What are doing around here?”

Ren unclenched his hands. “No one and nothing.”

“Yeah, right. Are you selling something? Or are you snooping? Because we’re not buying. And if you’re snooping, well…” He pulled out his weapon and hefted it in his hand. “We’ve already had some problems with you backward mud dwellers.”

When Ren didn’t respond, the guard pushed him hard in the arm with the tip of the pulse gun. Ren wobbled and took a step back. “Don’t.”

“Or what?” He huffed. “You going to fight me, little duster? You’re obviously too foolish to stay away from where you’re not wanted.”

Ren didn’t speak. His throat closed at the unwanted touch. His pulse sped beneath his skin. His chest tightened.

“Go away and don’t snoop unless you want trouble.”

Ren’s comm crackled. “You have to do something for him to take you,” Ollie’s voice was muffled, but even and sure. “Insult him.”

“What was that?” The guard stepped forward and grabbed Ren’s upper arm in his meaty grip. “Do you have a comm? What is this?” He ripped Ren’s hood back and snatched the device clipped to the fabric. “What are you up to?”

Ren swallowed. “I… I don’t….”

“Do you think we’re addled? That we don’t know about your little duster resistance?”

Ren’s focus zeroed down to where the guard’s hand grabbed him. His senses fuzzed. Static filled his head. His vision grayed at the edges. He closed his eyes and reached out for tech. He latched onto their data pads. He took comfort in the circuits and bled into them, surging through and burning out the wires.

The guard shoved Ren toward his subordinate. “Take him to the cells. I’ll go report.”

Ren tripped and landed on his hands and knees. The charge of a baton reverberated in his veins as the tip pushed hard against his ribs. He opened his eyes. His fingers curled in the sticky earth.

“Get up.”

Staggering to his feet, Ren complied. Head ducked, his hood hanging in his eyes, Ren meekly followed. Moving farther into the camp, Ren noted the pole lights in various areas. Finding one near the main generator, Ren reached out and cut it off.

“Cheap lights,” his captor muttered. “Always shorting in the cogging rain.”

Ren took that as permission to cut out a few more.

The soldier led Ren to the building in the middle of the camp and scanned his silver tags in the reader. The door swung open. He grabbed Ren by the back of the neck and pushed him over the threshold.

“Dim duster,” he spat as he manhandled him into the building. He pushed him down a few corridors and into a room with two forcefield cells. Ren stifled the hysterical laughter that bubbled in his throat at the irony and kept his head down as they pushed him into the electric cage.

He tripped and landed hard on the wood floor, and dust from the hay wafted into his face. Ren sneezed, and the soldier laughed.

“You’ve got a roommate for the night, Private. We’ll figure out what to do with witless dusters who snoop in the morning.”

The forcefield went up around him; the hum buzzed in his chest, under his skin. Once the soldier left, Ren sat up and rubbed his sleeve over his face while keeping his back turned to the other occupant of the room.

Asher sighed. “Sorry for them. They’re not exactly the pinnacle of Phoenix Corps decorum.”

Ren closed his eyes and allowed Asher’s voice to soothe him. The anxiety that had swelled in him during the encounter gradually bled away, like the tide receding from the beach, a slow ebb and flow, until he calmed. He had made it. Asher was next to him. Anything else could transpire and it would be fine because Asher would be by his side.

Asher cleared his throat. “Hey, are you okay? Don’t be afraid. They’ll release you in the morning.”

Ren stood and turned, wearing a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. A tear spilled down his cheek. His body filled with warmth and happiness, and he was going to burst. “We won’t be here in the morning.”

The gasp was immediate, and Asher stumbled away from their shared wall. “Ren?”

Asher’s face was smudged with dirt, but his green eyes were bright despite the mud smeared in his hair. Dark circles spread like bruises beneath his eyes, and the sharp cut of cheekbones spoke of harsh weeks.

Ren moved forward and pulled his hood away. With a thought, he powered down the forcefields, leaving nothing between them except the musty air and the thick memories from the last time they parted. He reached out a trembling hand. His star instinctively sought out the mechanism in Asher’s shoulder and tingled through it, inspecting the joint; a blueprint of the metal fused with bone lit behind Ren’s eyes. Nothing appeared damaged despite the beating Asher had endured.

Ren’s fingertips grazed Asher’s jawline, then across the line of his cheek, until they caressed the soft skin of Asher’s ear and his palm cradled Asher’s face.

“Ash.” Ren said his name on a sigh. “Oh, Ash, I’ve missed—”

Ren’s words were cut off by Asher’s mouth on his. His hand cupping Ren’s face was gentle, but his arm wrapped around Ren’s waist in an iron grip and pulled him tight enough to bruise. Ren kissed back. His loneliness and grief and relief at finally finding Asher manifested in every rough pass of his lips. He brimmed with emotion—good and bad, light and dark—his body and spirit were bursting and overcome. Power crackled in the air, and goosebumps bloomed over his skin despite the stifling heat and the tight grasp of Asher’s hands. They kissed, needy and frantic, as if they were each other’s air and life and everything good in the world. Ren didn’t pull away despite the need to talk, to plan their getaway. Instead he allowed Asher to back him against the wall and devour his mouth with the same intensity he did everything else.

Asher finally broke the kiss but didn’t move away. He buried his face in Ren’s neck; his breath was a hot, rhythmic brush on Ren’s skin. He trembled when Ren clutched his body in a desperate embrace.

“You’re alive,” Asher said, voice breaking. He cradled the back of Ren’s neck with his hand; his fingers scratched through the short hair at Ren’s nape. “You’re alive. You’re alive and you’re here.”

Ren’s stomach swooped, and his throat clogged with tears. “I thought you knew that.”

“You were when I left, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know if Pen was going to be able to save you. If you were going to wake up.”

“I’m alive,” Ren said. He patted Asher’s hair. “And you’re found. And we’re getting out of here.”

Asher pulled back and placed his hands on Ren’s shoulders. “What the cogs are you doing here?” he said, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “You’re risking yourself. You could be anywhere. You had your freedom.”

Ren took Asher’s hand and threaded their fingers. “What’s freedom without you?”

The blush spilling over Asher’s cheeks in the dim light was the most beautiful sight Ren had ever seen. Erden’s sunsets paled in comparison. The view of stars rotating outside a drift window was breathtaking, but nothing in the face of the shy lift of Asher’s mouth.

“When we get out of here, we are going to have a fight about this—a loud fight—but right now, I’m so happy to see you.”

Ren smiled, his eyes crinkling. “As I was saying, I’ve missed you. Every bit of you, even the surly part. Now, are you ready to run?”

“They’ll know it was you. Or they’ll blame Rowan. I can’t leave.”

Ren shrugged. “Actually, the soldiers didn’t log me in because suddenly their data pads wouldn’t work. And you’re not escaping. You’re going to go missing in all the confusion.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Confusion?”

Ren smiled. “You don’t think I was stupid enough to come alone, do you?”

Asher’s brow furrowed. He shook his head; his lips were pulled down at the corners. “Who did you—”

The explosion cut Asher off with a tremendous boom. The sound deafened them, swallowed the words Asher shouted, and left the world muffled for agonizing seconds. The ground shook violently, tossing Ren to his knees; the packed earthen floor of the prison scraped through the fabric of his trousers. The makeshift building shuddered. The walls threatened collapse from the force of the shockwave. The remaining forcefield wavered, then fell, as the lights cut out.

Pitched into darkness, Ren had the breath knocked out of his lungs when Asher stumbled and collided with him. Knowing the explosion was imminent didn’t keep Ren from being rattled. His ears hurt and rang. His head pounded as he fell forward on his palms.

“What the cogs was that?” Asher’s voice sounded squeezed, as if his breath had been surprised out of him.

“Our cue,” Ren said, overly loud. He shook his head, hoping the fuzz would clear. “Let’s go.” Ren held out his hand in the darkness to what looked like Asher’s outline, and Asher grabbed it with a strong grip. He threaded his fingers through Ren’s and tugged Ren to standing.

“Follow me.” Asher stepped out of the cell and pulled.

Together, they ran. Bursting from the building, they found the night sky lit with flames almost as bright as the planet’s sun. Thick smoke plumed and curled and blocked the scant light from the stars and the moon. The combination of flickering flames and smoke bathed the camp in moving and twisting shadows; frightening omen-like shapes danced around them, chased them as they ran, but provided reassuring cover for their escape. Asher skidded to a stop, mouth open, orange fire reflecting in his eyes. Around them, soldiers scrambled to put out the burning generator, trampled over the grass and dirt, yelled orders in panicked voices.

Ren flipped up his hood and hid his mouth with the back of his sleeve to keep from choking on the smoke and the ash which fell like snow.

“What did you do?” Asher coughed, mirroring Ren’s pose.

Ren shrugged. “It wasn’t me. It was a friend. Come on, we need to leave, quickly, and use the diversion they created for us.”

Asher gave the camp one last, lingering glance: the mayhem as soldiers poured from buildings, officers yelling orders as the flames climbed higher and leapt to another building. The wood framing caught quickly despite the rain as it crackled and warped with the heat.

Ren didn’t know what Asher saw, other than chaos, but something in his expression told Ren, despite the urgency and their need to run, to allow Asher to have this moment, to allow him to say goodbye.

“Okay,” Asher said with a nod. “Okay.”

They ran from the camp to the road. The second explosion hit the generator on the far side of the camp. The concussive force was not as devastating, but Ren staggered as they crossed the road and hid in the ditch beside it.

Ren’s muscles trembled. He wheezed in the hot air. “We need to get to the rendezvous.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve docked the ship here. The Corps logs everything at that spaceport. The Star Stream is too recognizable.”

“The ship isn’t there. It’s in the jungle. Come on.”

Ren stood and took Asher’s hand. His palm was damp against Ren’s skin.

“How did it get there?”

Ren tugged and stumbled to his knees. The trek through the rain forest and the spent adrenaline from being captured again made him quake with exhaustion. His legs didn’t have the strength to hold him, and his hands shook like leaves in a wind.

“Ren?”

“I’m fine. Help me up.”

Asher pulled Ren to standing, then looped Ren’s arm over his shoulder. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

“Later. This way.”

Ren and Asher took a few steps before Ren’s power pinged with the burst of a pulse gun. The hair on his arms stood on end. The electric charge fizzled behind his eyes. “Drop!”

They fell to their knees, and the blast flew over their heads and smashed into a tree. Splinters rained on them. Ren lurched to his feet and spun to find the guard, who leveled his weapon at Ren.

“You! Cogging duster. I should’ve known there was something wrong with you! You did this!”

“I did.”

Asher stood up behind Ren, and the soldier’s face went nearly purple with rage. He swung his gun arm to focus on Asher. “You are a traitor.”

The sky opened on a crack of thunder, and a torrent of water unleashed. The rain pounded on their heads and shoulders and turned the ground into treacherous swift-moving puddles. Ren’s boots filled; the muddy runoff from the road was suddenly up to his ankles. In the dark and the heavy rain, only the pulse of electricity from his weapon and the shadowy outline cast from the riot of fire yards away gave Ren an idea of where the soldier stood.

Asher disengaged from Ren and raised his hands. “Let us go.”

The soldier laughed, body shaking; the sound bled into the chaos of the camp and the roar of the fire. Ren focused on the weapon; its signature was within his grasp. Ren could stop him if he shot again, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

“No,” he called out. “You’re both going back. The only question is alive or dead.”

The weapon charged with a whine, and Ren’s eyes flashed.

Asher took a step forward, positioning himself between the soldier and Ren. His boots made indents in the mud. The rain flattened his blond hair. His hands were steady, and his voice was low and even when he spoke.

“It’s not going to hurt anyone if we escape. Let us walk away and disappear. That’s all we want.”

The guard sneered. “If you think I’m going to let a duster and traitor escape after burning down half the camp then you’re out of your cogging mind. Now, up on the road.”

They didn’t move. Asher tried again. “Please, understand. This is bigger than this moment. This is bigger than this camp.”

“I’m not interested in your cause. Quit stalling. There might not be a cell to throw you in, but I’ll find something.” His finger twitched against the trigger, and Ren shuddered with gathering potential.

They had to leave. And if they left the soldier alive, he’d tell his superiors that Asher ran away with a duster. It wouldn’t take much for the Phoenix Corps to put it together. They’d know Ren was alive. They’d come after the crew. They’d never be free.

Narrowing his eyes, Ren raised his hand. “I can’t let you stop me. And I can’t let you tell anyone else.”

Asher whipped his head around, eyes wide. “Ren, no—”

“What are playing at? You can’t do anything to me.”

Ren allowed his eyes to go blue. “Corps tech tends to short in the rain.”

Lines of blue lashed and arced from the pulse gun up the soldier’s arm in a tangle of power. The comm on this uniform burst into flame and sizzled. The soldier fell to the wet earth, like a puppet with strings cut; twitched once, twice; and then lay still. Smoke wreathed around the body and mingled with the plumes rising from the camp.

Ren pulled back and settled his star in the center of his chest. He dropped his arm, boneless and weary. Ren hunched forward and slapped his palm over his mouth so his fingertips dug into his skin and hooked against the bones of his jaw. He bit back a scream and a sob, swallowing it into the depths of his self.

Asher clutched his other hand with force so bruising the bones of Ren’s fingers mashed and ground together.

“Ren, we should go.”

Ren nodded, shaky and unsure, and straightened. The edge of his hood lay sodden on his forehead. Rivulets of water ran down Asher’s face. Ren swiped his thumb over Asher’s cheekbone so it smeared mud, and his hand trembled. “Yes, but I….” Ren trailed off. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I had to.”

“I know.”

Asher didn’t offer a platitude. Ren didn’t want one. He’d made a choice. He’d make the same choice again.

“This way.”

They loped to the thick edge of the rain forest. Ren’s pace was spurred by adrenaline and fear. His actions ran on loop in his head, and he was terrified of running into another Corpsman. He didn’t think he could be responsible for anything else tonight.

Finally, they pushed into the cover of the jungle along the path Ollie and Lucas had created. Once under the cover of the dense foliage, the scant light created by the fires and explosions dimmed until all Ren could see through the branches was an occasional streak of orange. They stopped and rested. Ren leaned against the slender trunk of a young tree and hoped that nothing crawled or slithered nearby in the impenetrable dark. Only by keeping close and allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, was Ren able to see Asher. The furrow of his brow was unmistakable, as was the set of his shoulders.

“We’re okay,” Ren said. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

“We’re okay.” Asher squeezed Ren’s hand. He didn’t let go. “How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You didn’t put yourself at risk, did you? You didn’t reveal yourself to anyone.”

Ren sucked down the thick soupy air and pressed a hand to his side. “No. I’m dead.”

“Good.”

“Wow, and I thought my relationships were twisted.”

Ren jumped and whirled on his heel. Darby emerged from a cluster of brush with Ollie right behind her holding a small light.

Darby pointed at Asher. “Is this him?”

Asher’s fingers curled tighter around Ren’s hand. Ren brushed his thumb over Asher’s knuckles to soothe him. “Yes, this is him.”

Darby grinned. “Awesome. Glad you found him.”

Ren smiled. “Good job with the blowing things up. Were you seen?”

Darby smiled wider; her teeth flashed white. “It was fun. And no. We set the charges and ran. But I don’t want to stand out here with critters. That big flying thing I saw earlier was terrifying.”

Shuddering, Ren agreed.

Ollie snorted. “Rowan should be a little way in with another light.” He brushed past them and grabbed Asher in a fierce one-harmed hug as he passed. “Good to see you, brother.”

Asher slapped Ollie hard on the back before letting him go.

Darby followed close on Ollie’s heels. She gave Asher an appraising glance, then knocked her fist into Ren’s shoulder. “Come on. We’re going to need freaky science-magic to get us out of here before those soldier folks figure out where we’ve gone.”

Asher raised an eyebrow and mouthed “freaky science-magic.” Ren shrugged.

A bright orb bobbed in the dark where Rowan waited. They followed Ollie and Darby down the trail.

6

Rowan grabbed Asher in a hug, and Ren stepped back from the reunion. It only lasted a moment, but the intensity was not lost on the group. Holding a small light to illuminate the path, Rowan ushered the others the rest of the way. The ship waited for them, silent and dark, save for the low hum of the background systems.

Ren stepped through the bay door, and the ship welcomed him with a warm, familiar sensation. It enveloped him and soothed his frayed nerves. Touching the bulkhead, he closed his eyes and embraced the comfort of the Star Stream’s systems. His clothes dripped onto the deck plate in small puddles, and he shrugged off the sodden cloak. It fell with a plop, and Ren squelched toward the bridge with his toes swimming in his boots.

Ducking under the arch, Ren entered.

“Ren,” Lucas said, spinning in his chair. “We got him back?”

“We got him back,” Ren replied.

Lucas grinned then turned. He typed in coordinates. “I don’t want to rush you, but there is chatter over all the comm channels. We’ve got locals and Corps and the docking tower all talking. They’re searching for the culprits, you know, us, and it won’t be long before they head into the jungle.”

“What’s going on?” Asher stepped through the archway, flanked by Rowan and Ollie.

Lucas stood and leapt at Asher. He wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders and patted him on the back. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. But you smell awful. And you’re drenched.”

Asher smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks. But what’s happening? How are we getting out of here?”

Rowan brushed passed him and settled in the captain’s chair. “Ren? Are you ready?”

Ren blew out a breath. He spread his hand on the navigation console. “Catch me when I fall.”

“Wait, what—”

Closing his eyes, Ren gathered his power. It bled from him into the ship, and the ship crawled up into his veins. A push-pull of power like a second heartbeat pulsed through him. Static filled his mouth, and sound played behind his eyes, and white and blue and red sounded in his ears. Sparks popped and crackled over his body, and his hair stood on end. Energy amassed in a whirlwind. He willed the ship to bend to the coordinates. His star throbbed under his skin and into the circuits. His body screamed in protest and his knees locked, but it was a secondary concern to the thrumming of the Star Stream and the creak of its engines and the shudder of its hull.

Time stalled and stretched and stretched until it snapped in one forceful second.

Ren blinked. He fell backward but was saved from a meeting with the deck by a strong grip. He craned his neck and stared out at a blanket of stars.

“Did I do it?”

Lucas checked the coordinates. “Close enough.”

“Good. I’m… tired.”

He leaned back into the embrace, and Asher grunted in his ear. “Stay awake,” he said. “At least until I get you to the common room.”

Ren didn’t remember much of the short journey to the couch. He roused when he heard low voices and found himself laid out with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body. His boots and socks were a sodden pile on the floor. He wiggled his pruney toes and squinted at the two figures at the table.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked, taking Asher’s hand in hers.

Asher lifted a steaming cup to his mouth and sipped. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve been hollowed out. And you’re bruised. What happened?”

“Nothing important.”

Rowan lifted an eyebrow. “What was the Corps doing on Bara anyway?”

Asher tapped his fingers along the rim of the cup. “Making inroads. Looking for things. I wasn’t privy to specifics, but I know it has to do with Vos.”

“Everything has to do with him. Everything goes back to his feud with the Corps.”

“It’s larger than that, Rowan. It started long before Vos and it’s spread across all the planets. It’s planets versus drifts now.”

Rowan looked away. “I know. We were on Phoebus, and Millicent attacked.”

Asher’s cup shook. “You made it out.”

“We ran. We had to. Ren wanted to fight, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Good. What’s happened here?”

Rowan sighed. “We’ve picked up another stray. Though this one isn’t staying long. We’re taking her to the nearest drift and dropping her off.”

“She seems… nice.”

Rowan snorted. “She’s a handful, but that’s no different than anyone else on this ship.” She smiled softly. “I missed you. I worried for you. I… I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

Asher’s lips lifted in a smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Rowan, we’re going to have to face this. We’re going to be a part of this battle. In one way or another. We can’t hide. We can’t flee. I just hope we end up on the right side.”

She looked away and tugged her braid. She didn’t respond, indecision was clear in her expression and posture. “What’s the right side, Ash?”

Asher sipped his drink. “The winning side. That’s the side we’ll be on.”

* * *

Once Ren regained his strength, he dressed in the dry shirt and trousers left for him, then went straight to Asher’s quarters. Asher had left shortly after his conversation with Rowan, claiming the need for a shower, fresh clothes, and a nap. Ren needed the same, but he needed to speak with Asher more.

He rapped his knuckles against Asher’s doorframe. The door stood slightly open, but Ren didn’t assume he was welcome or wanted. His skin tingled with residual power, and his hair smelled of smoke from the explosions. Humidity and panic sat heavy in his chest, pressing on his lungs. His skin was tacky. He needed a shower and a nap, but the urge to see Asher, to touch him, to breathe the same air, to feel the heat of his body, overrode everything else. The wet fabric brushing against his ankles and the dirt under his fingernails were minor irritants compared to the sudden rending joy of Asher’s presence on the other side of the bulkhead.

“Ash,” Ren said, his voice a rasp. He waited, his heart pounding with anticipation, as if he hung over a precipice and peered down, down, down into a crevasse.

The door creaked open. Ren stepped through and closed it behind him, locking it with a spark of his star.

Asher stood across from him. His blond hair hung in wet strands, limp on his forehead and around his temples, brushing over the curve of his ears. He needed a haircut. The vibrant liquid green of his eyes stood out from the thin skin and dark circles beneath. His cheekbones cut edges into his skin. His jaw, though set, trembled, and his bruised lip puffed out. The shirt he wore hung from his shoulders, and Ren imagined the blue and purple bruises which undoubtedly mottled Asher’s skin underneath. He’d changed so much in such a short time.

“Ren,” Asher said.

“Are you okay?” Asher looked away, and Ren closed his eyes. “I meant, are you injured? Does your shoulder hurt?”

“It’s fine. It’s not like before.”

Ren swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good.”

He opened his eyes and stepped forward. The void between them was expansive if only a few feet, and Ren couldn’t handle the space any longer. Drawn toward him, Ren closed the distance and curled his arms around Asher’s body. He drew Asher’s head to his shoulder and held on.

Asher’s body pulled taut, resistant for a strained moment, before he shuddered and melted into Ren’s arms. He clutched at Ren, his fists clenched into the fabric of Ren’s shirt, and pulled him in. He smelled of soap and warm skin, and the heat of him burned into Ren’s middle and eased into his bones and sinew, and the tension that had set in his spine since he’d woken by himself on a cold metal slab, sloughed away. Ren had never felt at peace: always looking to the stars when on Erden, always looking for control when consumed by his star, always looking for family when lonely, always looking for calm when panic gripped him in its suffocating embrace. But this, Asher in his arms, and Asher’s breath on his neck, and Asher’s hands molded on his back, was as close as Ren had ever come. This was a kind of tranquility of the soul that he hadn’t known was possible for him. Now that he had it, he would never relinquish it.

“I’ve got you,” Ren said. He tucked his face against Asher’s neck. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting you go again.”

Crushing Ren close, with their bodies cradled against one another, Asher held on.

“Don’t. Don’t let me go.”

“Never.” And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. And it was a dangerous thing, an exquisite ache that resided in his soul, a promise and a responsibility he’d never leave unfulfilled. “I killed him,” Ren whispered. “I’d do it again. I’d do anything for you.”

Asher shivered. “I know. I know, but I don’t want that. I don’t want you to do things you don’t want to, Ren. I want you to be free.”

“I told you. There is no point to freedom without you.” Ren’s cheeks heated with a fierce blush.

Asher shook his head against Ren’s shoulder. He mumbled into Ren’s collarbone while Ren petted his head.

“What was that?”

“I said, you smell,” he mumbled.

Ren froze. Giddiness bubbled up from his chest to his throat. His body shivered, and he chuckled. Asher shook with him as he muffled his laughter into Ren’s shirt. They laughed, holding each other as all the pent-up adrenaline and grief washed out of them in gales and chuckles, snorts and watery gasps. Ren pulled back, swiped his fingers along the corners of his eyes, then cupped Asher’s jaw, and ran his thumbs over the stubbled and flushed skin, wiping the streams of tears away.

Asher caught his fingers. He turned his head and kissed the center of Ren’s palm.

Ren’s breath stuttered, and Asher pressed his soft smile into Ren’s hand.

“I should go shower,” Ren’s voice was thick.

“Stay.” Asher’s response was clipped and quick with an undercurrent of fear. He closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and ducked his head. “Stay with me.”

“Okay.”

“After you shower.”

Ren swallowed. “After I shower.”

“Yes, shower,” Asher said. He guided Ren to the adjoining bathroom, his fingers curled around the indent of Ren’s waist. “And then come back.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been sleeping in Ollie’s room on a medical cot. Or on the common room couch. Or where I just…” he waved his hands, “wherever I pass out.”

“Is that what you’d like to do tonight?”

“No,” Ren breathed.

Asher’s lips ticked up into a smirk. “Then come back.”

Nervousness of a different kind flooded Ren’s veins, and he welcomed it. He smiled back at Asher, helplessly, before closing the door behind him.

* * *

Ren emerged from the en suite bathroom in a cloud of steam. His skin was pink from the warm water and from scrubbing away the stench of their ordeal on the planet. He smelled of soap and shampoo instead of sweat and ash, and that lifted his mood. Any reservations he’d held about returning to Asher’s room to sleep had melted away. Now his nerves were from blooming excitement and thick anticipation rather than fear and panic.

The little hair he had left dripped, and beads of water rolled down his neck and over his collarbone. He rubbed a towel over his head, then tossed it in the corner.

Asher sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up from a data pad. He started, his gaze sliding over Ren’s bare torso and landing on the stitched angry wound on Ren’s side. Self-conscious, Ren covered it with his hand. “Sorry,” he rasped. “I need to bandage it. I forgot the supplies. They’re in Ollie’s room.”

Asher didn’t say anything, merely beckoned Ren closer. He lifted a roll of medical tape and a sterile pad. “Pen brought them by when she didn’t find you in the common room.”

Ren swallowed. “Oh.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I…” Ren’s throat went dry. He swallowed, then nodded his head.

Ren cautiously padded across the room to the bed. The hem of his threadbare sleep pants brushed the tops of his feet. The bare skin of his chest prickled; the environmental controls were set a little cooler than usual. Rowan and Lucas were recovering from the hours spent planet-side in the heat and kept the ship nearly frigid.

His muscles jumped as Asher lightly ran his fingertips over the skin near his navel and drifted slowly to the stitches. Ren bit his lip. The air charged.

“Hold this.”

Ren held the bandage in place as Asher tore strips of the medical tape, then smoothed them over Ren’s skin. The process only took a few minutes, but, by the end, Ren was alight with anticipation.

“Are you tired?” Asher asked, as Ren stood and trembled before him.

“Exhausted despite the small nap.”

Asher nodded. “Me too.” He swallowed and met Ren’s eyes, seemingly making a decision. “Well, come on then.” He patted the bed.

Ren’s pulse ticked up. His heart hammering, he sat on the edge. “Do you want near the wall?”

“Stars, no,” Asher said with a shake of his head. “I just spent several weeks trapped and sleeping in a cell. I don’t like the feeling.”

“Okay. I like the wall. I can feel the ship. It’s… safe.”

“Okay.”

Ren scrambled onto the bed and slid under the sheets. Asher followed and lay beside him. Flat on his back and stiff as a board, Ren stared up at the ceiling. His and Asher’s arms brushed. Gone was the ease of the times they’d slept next to each other in a cell or in a hollow tree or on a ship with people they didn’t trust. A dense potential energy lay between them now, and Ren didn’t know what to do, how to act on the feelings that stirred in his gut. He clenched his fists at his side.

The bed was not big, and Asher had to be uncomfortable so near the edge. Ren squeezed as close as he could to the wall while Asher fidgeted next to him.

“This isn’t what I imagined.”

Ren was suddenly breathless. He cleared his throat. “What did you imagine?”

Asher chuckled ruefully. “Well for one, it wouldn’t be freezing. And for two, you wouldn’t be injured.”

“I’m fine.”

Asher rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. The collar of his sleep shirt slipped and revealed the wide, ridged scar on his shoulder. He pushed away the sheet, and the goosebumps on Ren’s skin betrayed him. He shivered, and Asher raised an eyebrow, silently questioning. Tentatively, Asher rested his hand across Ren’s stomach so his fingers spread over the covered wound.

Ren flinched. “I’m sorry.” Tears came unbidden. “I’m sorry.”

Asher trailed his fingers over Ren’s torso, away from the bandage, then leaned over and bracketed Ren so his body curled over Ren’s shaking form. “Ren—”

“I’m sorry.” Ren surged upward, wrapped his arms around Asher’s shoulders, twisted his fingers in Asher’s hair, and tugged him close. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m… so sorry. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve never questioned your loyalty to me or to Rowan or—”

Asher brushed his thumb over Ren’s mouth, and held it there. The pressure was gentle but grounding. “I could’ve been more transparent with my plans. I thought if I kept everyone in the dark, even you, that it would be better. That I could fool VanMeerten on my own. But I made you doubt me, and I’m sorry for that.” He ran his thumb over the blush of Ren’s cheek and slid his palm over the curve of Ren’s jaw.

“Don’t apologize.” Ren swallowed, throat bobbing. “Please.”

“It was all to protect you.”

“I know. I realized in the tunnel on Crei that everything you did was for my benefit. You gave yourself up for me. You’ve done nothing but protect me since we met in that cell at the citadel.” Ren opened his eyes. “Why?”

Asher smiled, a wry lift of his lips. “I’d still be in that cell if it wasn’t for your fierce single-minded duster idiocy. You were so certain you could escape. And it was maddening and endearing. And I…” Asher laughed. “I couldn’t help but think that if anyone on that planet could get out of that mess and save the cluster, it would be the cog with the glowing blue eyes.”

“You never told me that,” Ren said.

“I’m not good with words.” Asher dipped his head and rested his forehead against Ren’s. He continued the maddening caress of his fingers along the line of Ren’s jaw. “I’m better with actions.”

Asher’s body was a wall of heat above him. Ren’s stomach was a tight coil, and his muscles went taut with eagerness. Ren wanted.

“I’m not good with words either,” he stammered.

Asher’s laugh was a gust of air over Ren’s lips. “We’ll practice.”

“I’ve never—”

Asher kissed him, tender and unafraid. Ren melted into it; his eyes fluttered shut; the tension eased out of him. He relaxed into the mattress, and all the scattered thoughts and the remnants of fear evaporated once he was wrapped in Asher’s arms. He gave in, allowed his actions to speak for him, and trusted Asher to lead the way.

7

The air around Ren shimmered. Splotches of color appeared, then solidified and coalesced into a room Ren didn’t recognize. He squinted as the bright lights dimmed and twisted, and shadows deepened, providing contour and depth. There was a low bunk with a thin mattress and four close metal walls. The door in one wall was short but thick with a forcefield around a small window. Ren pressed his fingertips against the field and found it solid and cool to the touch. Nothing stirred under his skin. No hum reverberated in his flesh. Brow furrowed, hands in his pockets, he turned and let out a squawk when he spotted Asher in a corner.

“Ash?”

Asher looked around, face pale. He wore his Phoenix Corps uniform and glossy boots, though the insignias weren’t quite correct—the details were off because they were in a dream. Eyebrows raised in a look of confusion, Asher examined his uniform. Ren peered down at himself and saw the outfit he’d last worn on Erden.

“Where are we?”

“Liam?” Ren called. “Are you here?”

A blurry mass of color on the bed slowly came into focus. It morphed from a blob to the shape of a person. The figure developed features and red hair. Liam appeared, dressed in a simple, white outfit, stretched out on the bed’s stiff white sheets. He propped himself up on an elbow. The square pillow dimpled beneath him. Metal clamps hung beneath the bedframe and they swayed as Liam sat up. He squinted at Ren, and then his eyebrows shot up when he saw Asher standing in the corner.

“You’re both here. Are you two… near each other right now? Touching while asleep?”

Ren blushed. The tips of his ears burned. “Yeah, we are.”

Liam’s mouth quirked up. “So, this is the guy? The soldier?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Approaching Asher cautiously, Liam eyed him up and down. “You’re shorter than I imagined.”

“You must be the brother,” Asher said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He lifted his chin. “Is this a dream?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Ren ignored the stare-off on the other side of the small room and rapped his knuckles on the wall. “Is this where they are keeping you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve hidden it from me.”

“I’ve tried to project nicer environments. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Ren frowned. “I’ll always worry about you.” He cast a glance at Liam, and his frown deepened. Liam had dark circles under his eyes like bruises, and his face was pale. His cheeks were hollow, his lips chapped, and he had an abrasion and a collage of purple and green around his jaw. “It’s the older brother’s job to worry.”

“You’re not much older than me.”

“Why did you bring us here?” Asher pressed his hand to the wall, fingers spread. He furrowed his brow, as if trying to figure out how their dream environment could appear so real.

Liam’s shoulders drooped. “I think they’re moving us. There are whispers about insurgencies and rebellions. They’ve made me dream constantly these last few days, going into people’s thoughts, searching for information, manipulating things, and I…” Liam’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”

“Liam—”

“I know I said to live your life, Ren, but I… I want to go home. I want to go home.”

Ren rushed forward and caught Liam in a hug, wrapping his arms around his brother, trying to erase the image of Liam looking worn and lost. Liam rested his head on Ren’s shoulder and clutched at Ren’s back.

“It’s okay. I’m working on it. I promise.”

Liam shivered. His shoulders shook, and he sobbed. Ren’s shoulder gradually grew damp, but he didn’t pull away. Hot with shame and worry, Ren held on, upset with himself that he hadn’t yet found Liam, had doomed him to a life in a cell, similar to what Ren had escaped from with Asher’s help. He cast a glance to Asher, whose stoic expression had softened.

“Do you know where you are?” Asher moved from his spot by the wall. “Any idea at all?”

Liam shook his head, which was buried in Ren’s shirt. “No.” His voice came out thickly. He took a breath and composed himself before stepping out of Ren’s embrace. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but they’re keeping me in this cell now. I’m not even leaving for sessions anymore. They come in here and…” Liam trailed off. Ren’s gaze zeroed in on the clamps in the bed. Disgust rose in his throat.

“Do you have any idea of a timeline?”

“I don’t… a few days, maybe? It’s been the past week that everything has suddenly increased.”

Asher ran his hand over his jaw. “Whose dreams have you walked in? Maybe there is a clue in there. Are they Corps members? Drifters? Dusters? Have you spoken to Vos?”

Liam wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his scrubs. He shook his head. “I just… there is a guy here who can make you do things with his voice. It doesn’t work on the staff, only on others like us. He makes me go into the dreams, and then I forget after I report.”

Ren jolted. Shock and fear and a vivid memory of Abiathar’s voice compelling him to unlock his cuffs washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach and he staggered away from the bed toward the wall. He leaned against it.

“Ren?” Liam asked. “Are you okay?”

Ren nodded, but pressed a hand to his chest to focus on his breathing.

“We’ve met him before,” Asher said. He moved next to Ren and threaded their fingers; the pressure from both their hands on his sternum grounded Ren. “He’s the one who figured out Ren was a technopath. He was the one who wanted to weaponize your brother.”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, weeds, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. He needs a minute and—”

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Liam’s brow creased and he grabbed Asher’s arm.

“They’re coming to wake me up.”

“Can you fight them?”

Liam shook his head; his green eyes were wild. “No. I can’t. I can’t.”

Ren shook off the flood of memories and grabbed Liam’s hand, forming a triangle between the three of them.

“Hold on! Don’t let go!”

Ren reached for his power and grasped nothing. He looked to Asher, pleading for an idea. Asher’s expression gave nothing away, but his grip on Ren tightened.

“I can’t do anything,” Ren breathed. “I have no power here. And if I try any more, I might access the ship we’re on and—”

The door swung inward, violently banging against the wall. Shadows moved into the room, silhouettes of figures, their details indiscernible. One raised a hand and the impression of a baton folded out.

Liam’s face twisted.

“I’ll find you,” Ren gasped. He gripped his brother’s hand; his knuckles were white, and his palm was slick. “I promise, Liam. I will find you and—”

The figure brought the baton down.

Liam screamed. His back bowed, he clawed at Ren’s arms, he choked on air, and then he disappeared.

* * *

Ren rocketed out of sleep. Scrabbling through the thick fog of the dream, vision awash in blue, he fought against the arms around him. He cried out when they clamped against his wound, and he twisted and thrashed. The strong grip pinned his arms to his sides and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get to Liam. He had to free Liam. They had him. They had him and… He kicked and bent, until he could slip his fingers beneath the hands that clutched him. He pried them off, nails biting into the flesh until they released him. Legs tangled, he lunged to get away and fell to the hard deck plating. Fresh waves of pain rent him; agony lit his nerves. Adrenaline thudded frenzied and fast in his middle, and he scrambled along the floor, kicking out with his heel when fingers wrapped around his ankle.

“Ren!”

The voice shocked him into the present, and Ren blinked.

Asher’s room.

He turned to find Asher half-hanging out of the bed, one hand clinging to the frame, the other holding Ren’s ankle. The blanket and sheets stretched between them. No longer covered, Asher’s bare skin bore a sheen of sweat, and goosebumps blossomed over his arms and chest.

In the low light, sprawled across the floor, Ren pressed his palms to the deckplate, and the systems of the Star Stream buzzed through him. He shivered in the cool air. With a thought, Ren sent warmth into the room.

Ren allowed his head to drop and he blew out a calming breath.

“Ren?”

“I’m here.”

Asher released Ren’s ankle and lowered his foot gently. The mattress creaked, and the sheets rustled, and then Asher sat cross-legged, wrapped in the comforter, facing Ren. He looked like a toddler at story time with his hair sticking up and ensconced in the folds of his favorite blanket. A line of dried drool crusted the edge of his mouth, and he had a mark on his cheek from the wrinkles in his pillow. His forehead was creased, and his lips turned down at the corners.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Asher nodded at Ren’s bandage.

Biting his lip, Ren peeled away the tape. Penelope’s regular attention to the wound had seen it heal significantly, and Ren could even see differences since he’d woken a few days ago. A trickle of blood slid down his skin from where a bit of medical glue had torn, but otherwise, it looked as it had.

“I’m fine.”

Asher’s concern didn’t abate. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers tented in front of his mouth. “Was that real?”

Ren nodded, sorrow and grief an internal tumult. “Yes.”

“That was really your brother?”

“Yes.”

Asher tilted his head. “Are you sure? Could it have been a trick?”

Liam’s pleas for home and his anguished scream echoed in Ren’s head. “No,” he said, voice soft. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’s in Perilous Space.” Ren picked a thread in the blanket. “Ollie said he might be there, and it made sense, but I was focused on finding you, on getting to you.” Ren swallowed. “I’ve abandoned him.”

“No. No, you haven’t.”

“I’ve lost him.”

“He hasn’t been moved yet.”

“They could be moving him right now.”

“Ren,” Asher gripped Ren’s hand.

“The Corps has him. They took him from our home. How could… how could you be a part of that? How could you have willingly joined them?” Ren looked up and met Asher’s stricken expression. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you I didn’t know. I didn’t know until we returned to Erden.”

Ren pulled his knees to his chest, but he didn’t disengage from Asher’s grasp. “Why did you join? You’ve never said.”

Asher sighed. He ran a hand over his brow. “It’s complicated.”

“My father was going to turn my mother over to a military organization because her eyes glowed. My stepfather likely killed him. They intended to hide me on a planet I didn’t want to be on and kept from me the fact that I’m a mythical being. I can handle complicated.”

“Fine.” Asher rearranged his blanket. “I was sixteen and stupid and wanted to get back at my mother for basically ignoring me for her political career.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Rowan was already off-drift. She’d saved up credits and bought a ship. Penelope went with her. I was lonely and bored and didn’t want to be either. I went to the recruitment office and signed my life away for five years. I went to introduction training at the facility and made some friends. I specialized in tactical operations, and the first few years that meant a lot of travel and the occasional skirmish. And by skirmish, I mean arguments between drifters and the need for protection of a trade route from marauders. It was easy. It was fun. I had friends. And then we received an assignment on a planet.”

Ren winced. Asher had barely taken a breath. His words were coming fast and clipped, as if pouring it all out as quickly as possible would allow him to outrun the underlying emotions.

“Erden.”

“Yes, and we were ambushed. And I was injured but kept alive because of my mother’s influence. I was in a cell for a year wasting away.”

Ren closed his eyes. “And your friends?”

Asher’s trip tightened. “Dead.”

“I’m sorry, Ash.”

Asher snorted. “Don’t apologize. I’m the fool. I should’ve known the Corps didn’t care the minute they let me stay in that cell for as long as they did. Then I trusted VanMeerten about you and I shouldn’t have.” Asher shuddered. “At first, I thought the Corps was too overwhelmed and bureaucratic to see the consequences of their actions on their soldiers and the civilians they encountered. And that hurt in a way I didn’t expect. But now, I know it’s indifference. They don’t care, as long as they get what they want. They don’t care who they hurt or who gets in their way.”

Opening his eyes, Ren tipped his face toward Asher. “Ash—”

“It’s funny, actually. I didn’t understand Vos at all. His motives were foreign to me. Why would a duster baron concern himself with the drifts? But I get it now.” Ren made a face. “I’m not saying he’s right either. He shouldn’t have captured you from your home and raided your village. The way he went about things was wrong. But I get it—that feeling of powerlessness in the face of a military machine.”

“We can change things.”

“We can try.” His voice dipped low. “We’ll find your brother. We’ll find him. Even if they move him, he’ll contact you again. Or we’ll find the files from the Corps. We’ll do something. For now, though, we have to tell Rowan. We have to let the crew decide what to do, and then you and I…”

Ren turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through Asher’s. “You and I?”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

The corner of Ren’s mouth quirked up. “I don’t want you to.”

“Then you and I will find a way.”

Ren hunched forward. “Perilous Space,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “The prison on the edge of the cluster near where the technopaths broke the sky. Heavily guarded and impossible to escape from.”

“We’ll free him. I promise.”

Ren believed him. Asher always kept his promises.

* * *

“Ren’s brother is in Perilous Space prison. He came to us in a dream, and I met him. The Corps will be moving him soon because of an increase in revolts. Ren and I will be formulating a plan, and you’re welcome to join us. If not, you’ll need to let us off at the next drift.”

Rowan blinked. Her mouth hung open. The food on her spoon slid off and splattered on her plate. Drops of sauce flew over her shirt. “You want to what now?”

“So, he is there?” Ollie asked, unfazed. He passed the bread basket to a stunned Darby, who allowed it to drop through her hands.

“Um… can you please repeat that?” Penelope asked. She dabbed her face with her napkin.

“Yeah, same. Because it sounded like you want us to storm an impenetrable prison to rescue someone we’ve never met who can talk to you through dreams.” Lucas took a bite of his food and chewed obnoxiously. “I’m just saying a little more explanation is needed.”

Ren hunched down in his seat.

Darby picked the scattered bread from the table and tossed it into the basket. “Is this about freaky science-magic?”

“No.” Asher shook his head. “Well, yes, kind of. A little bit.”

“My brother,” Ren said softly, and all attention turned to him. “My brother can manipulate dreams and gather information. I’m not sure how it works. But the Corps has been using him against Vos. He’s tired and frightened.” Ren’s brow furrowed. “I don’t expect you to come with us, especially after everything.”

“I said we’d talk about it after finding Ash,” Rowan said as she wiped her shirt with a napkin. “But you’re right, Ren. I’ve allowed our lives to be interrupted since you came aboard. We’ve been stuck on a drift for months, we’ve been involved in firefights, and we’ve been on planets where we don’t belong. I don’t think we can do it anymore.”

“I understand. It’s fine.”

Asher slammed his fist on the table. Everyone jumped, and the plates and cups rattled. “No, it’s not fine. Don’t you get it? We can’t stay out of this. The conflict between Vos and the Corps will only spread. It already has. First it was Erden and then Mykonos and Phoebus and now Bara. This is escalating with or without us, and soon there will be no safe space for anyone.”

“You’re right. It’s going to happen with or without us. I’d prefer without us.” Rowan lifted her chin in the face of Asher’s betrayed expression.

“Rowan—”

“Do you get what you’re asking of us?” Rowan jammed her fork in Asher’s direction. “Not only is Perilous Space prison a maximum-security facility run by the Phoenix Corps—the very same organization that we blew up a camp to rescue you from, but also the same one that killed Ren. And not only that, but we’d be releasing other star hosts into the cluster who may not be as well-meaning as Ren and who may be even more powerful. We’d be stepping right between VanMeerten and Vos and embroiling ourselves in a situation that you’ve already said was dangerous beyond what we can imagine.”

“We’re already a part of it. I don’t understand how you can’t see that?”

“I know! But I’m not ready to choose a side. I don’t know who is right and who is wrong. I only know that both sides have tried to kill us.”

“We don’t have to be on either side. We can be our own side!”

“We’ll lose! We are no match against the Corps or Vos, especially if he has Millicent.”

“We have to take the chance.”

“We don’t! And we’re not!”

They shouted at each other over the length of the table. Rowan was almost out of her seat, and Asher bent his fork with his grip.

Ren placed his hand on Asher’s trembling fist. “It’s okay.”

Asher yanked his hand away. “How are you so calm and meek? Why are you not mad? Why are you not threatening to take over the ship and take us there anyway?”

Ren recoiled. “Because I’m not a jerk. The Ren that did those type of things died, remember? Yes, I want to rescue my brother. After finding you, it was the top of my list. It still is. I’m terrified about what’s happening to him. But I’m not forcing your sister and Ollie and Pen and Lucas into anything. They’ve already done so much for me. You have done so much for me.”

“Why don’t you ask them?” Darby asked, dark eyes darting between Asher and Rowan. “Don’t they get a say, or are you going to make their decisions for them?”

“Why don’t you stay out of it?” Rowan’s voice was sharp. “We’ll take you to Echo drift as we promised and drop you off, but you have no say in what happens aboard this ship. Got it?”

“Wait a minute, Darby did risk herself to rescue Asher.” Ollie planted his elbows on the table and met Rowan’s hard gaze. “You can’t discount our opinions on this, Rowan.”

“I can. I’m the captain. You’ve placed your trust in my decisions since you became crew so many years ago. I’ve bent over backward for the past year to accommodate these two. I’ve disrupted all of our lives. I’m done. There is no discussion.”

Darby stood from the table. “Right. Thanks for the food.” She shoved a few extra pieces of bread on her plate and picked it up. “I’m going to eat in my quarters. Let me know when we reach Echo drift.” She paused at the doorway. “I thought you all were different, but you’re just like everyone else. Out for themselves. Good luck with your brother, Ren.” And then she left.

Ren sighed. He pushed his fingertips against his closed eyes. The pressure felt good in contrast to the budding headache in his temples.

“We’ll be disembarking on Echo too.”

Ren dropped his hands and stared at Asher. “What?”

“We don’t have time to argue. They’re moving Liam, and we have a small window if we want to get to him.”

Ren’s throat closed. “Okay. We can do that.”

“If that’s what you want.” Rowan’s palms were flat on the table top. Her shoulders were tense; her green eyes glittered.

“I’m coming with you.” Ollie pushed his plate away. He raised his hand to silence Penelope’s inevitable protest. “You’re my sister, and, if it were you, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m going to help Ren and Asher and make sure they come back.”

Lucas’s face was paler than normal. “You should get ready then. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

Guilt weighed heavy on Ren. He was the catalyst. He was the reason Asher was captured. He was the reason Liam sat in a prison. He caused the crew to fracture.

Ollie nodded and stood. Asher followed, and Ren pushed his chair back from the table. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

Rowan didn’t respond. She pushed her food around her plate. Lucas put his arm around Penelope’s shoulders and squeezed.

Ren turned on his heel and followed the others out of the common room.

* * *

They approached Echo drift. A heavy solemn stillness pervaded the ship, and Ren couldn’t help but feel responsible. Guilt weighed on his conscience, though he couldn’t own Rowan’s stubbornness or Asher’s passionate assertions. This wasn’t the first time the siblings had butted heads and it wouldn’t be the last. It might be the most significant, especially if Asher’s planned assault on Perilous Space prison ended badly. Ren didn’t want to consider that either, and he focused on the ship’s approach to the spinning metal microcosm in front of them.

Standing on the bridge, Ren watched through the vid screen as the drift became larger. Next to him stood Asher. In her captain’s chair, Rowan sat: back straight, legs crossed, looking like a queen on a throne.

“You can change your mind,” Asher said, voice low, head pitched toward Rowan.

“So can you,” she replied.

Asher let out a sigh. “I’ll contact you when we’re done. Until then, lay low. I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

She nodded. Casting her glance to Ren, she forced a smile. “Take care of them. Make sure they all come back.”

“I will.”

Lucas adjusted the goggles on his head, then pushed a few buttons on his console. “Automated docking engaged.”

Asher stepped toward the view screen. “Anything weird?”

“Everything is as normal.” Lucas spun in his chair. “Ren?”

Furrowing his brow, Ren reached out through the sensors, vision shifting to blue. The drift’s many systems spoke to him, all running at capacity. Most importantly, there was no sickly-sweet churn of his stomach, or cold uneasy prickle over his skin. Ren pulled back to the ship. “It’s fine.”

“Good.”

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Lucas said. “I’ll let you know when the seal is complete.”

“Thanks.”

“It was good to have you back, Ash,” Lucas said in an uncharacteristic moment of seriousness. “We’ll see you again soon. I’m sure.”

Ren and Asher left the bridge. Asher hesitated at the exit, but when Rowan didn’t make a move to stop them, he sighed and followed Ren. They walked in silence down the corridor, their shoulders brushing.

Ren and Asher had packed their bags and stacked them by the aft airlock. Ren shrugged into Asher’s drifter jacket and tugged it close around him. He flipped up the collar and rubbed his cheek on the fabric, finding comfort in the sensation and the smell. It grounded him, and he’d need that leaving the Star Stream, the ship that had welcomed him and became his home in a way that only a technopath could understand.

Ollie and Darby waited for them in the bay. Darby had had nothing when brought on board, and now only had the few things Penelope had given her. Darby hadn’t said much since the confrontation in the common room. Ren didn’t know her plans. He doubted she’d go with them.

Penelope was there as well. She handed Ollie a bag. “There is medical glue and tape, antiseptic, and bandages in there just in case.” Ollie took it from her hands. She smoothed the collar of Ollie’s shirt. “You make sure you pick a reputable ship. Check the registration and last drifts visited.”

Ollie raised a dark eyebrow. “No reputable ship is going to take us where we need to go.”

She chuckled nervously. “No, I guess not. Well, pick a ship and a crew you can easily overpower if needed.”

Darby stroked her chin, her expression contemplative. “Huh. That’s not bad advice.”

“You could always ask Darby to steal one for you, too.” Penelope grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze cut to Darby, who leaned against the airlock. ‘I’m sure she’d do it, if not for any allegiance, but for the thrill.”

“Aw.” Darby placed her hand over her heart. “You know me so well and only after a few days too.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think I’m sticking with your gang. Assaulting a prison full of career soldiers with magic-wielders as prisoners? No thanks.”

Ren was inexplicably sorrowful at Darby’s words, but it was expected. She’d been caught up in their lives by accident. He couldn’t blame her for going her own way. It seemed to be her nature.

Ollie frowned and turned away from Darby. He focused his attention on Penelope and wrapped his hand around her fingers. “We’ll be all right. We’ll contact you when we’re done. Take care of Rowan.”

“I will.”

Penelope and Ollie hugged. Then Penelope grabbed Asher and Ren in succession and squeezed. Ren winced from the force of her hug. “I’ll see you soon.” She wiped the moisture from her eyes and stepped away.

Lucas’s voice came over the comm. “Pressurization completed. Have fun, you four.”

Darby was the first out of the airlock. Ollie was quick to follow. Asher lingered.

“Are we making the right choice?” Ren shuffled close to Asher’s body. “We could wait until Liam is moved. Trust that he contacts us again. It might be an easier location to—”

Asher clasped Ren’s hand. “It’s taken us this long to know where he is. He’s important to you. He’s obviously important to the Corps. Retrieving him isn’t only serving a purpose for you, but takes away one of the Corps’ ways of finding information. And if he’s there, think of who else might be.”

Ren leaned into Asher’s side. “Rescuing my brother is going to start a war.”

“The war is already started.”

Asher squeezed Ren’s hand then departed the ship. Ren followed, fingers curled tight around the handle of his small bag.

The docking bay’s large outer doors to the drift were closed. A small doorway off to the side was ajar. Asher walked through, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder.

Ren cast a last glance to the ship that he called home in more ways than one. His heart ached. He’d miss the systems and the circuits, and he hoped he’d traverse them again.

With a slump of his shoulders, he went through the door.

It shut behind him, obscuring the Star Stream, and bathing the drift floor in a wash of dim yellow light.

Ren squinted and stopped short.

A group of soldiers in black body armor waited for him. One held a struggling Darby and had guns trained on both Asher and Ollie.

“Welcome to Echo drift,” the tallest one said, stepping forward, resting his weapon on his shoulder. He smirked. “There’s been a change in management.”

8

“Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped! Again!” Darby kicked out with the thick heel of her boot and caught one of the soldiers in his shin. He cried out, dropped his weapon, and grabbed his leg as he hopped up and down. Darby smirked but she wasn’t let go. In fact, her wiggling and fighting made another soldier grab her other side.

Asher zeroed in on the pulse gun, which clattered to the ground, but he couldn’t move before it was swept up by another guard.

“Quit squirming!”

“I’ll stop when you tell me what the stars is going on!”

The four were clad in black with body armor and helmets reminiscent of Vos’s citadel soldiers who had taken Ren from his home. But those soldiers wore scavenged armor and shabby equipment. These guards were polished and equipped with tech that pinged in Ren’s senses with power and capability. Ren didn’t sense any snares or hiccups in their comm system or in the power emanating from their prods and pulse guns. There were no bastardized components or systems holding together by spit and will. Vos had upgraded exponentially.

Standing just on the other side of the large, closed doors that led to the bay of the Star Stream, Ren sensed the lowering of the forcefield barrier. His connection with the ship stretched as it left the hangar, and lessened as the distance between them grew. He bit his lip to hide his distress at the loss of his home. He blinked, and the thread which bound them snapped, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Asher nudged him, and Ren shook the turmoil away, packed it down inside, and focused on the situation in front of him.

The drift was dim, but not shut down like Phoebus. Ren looked up to see blank communication boards; the overhead system remained quiet. But the grav and air recyclers hummed. The essential systems ran on minimal power, but all the superfluous ones were shut down, possibly to conserve energy. Ren wasn’t afraid that all the system would fail as he had been on Phoebus. This seemed deliberate. He searched out Millicent’s signature, and, though he caught remnants of her and his stomach churned at the sick caress of her power against his, she wasn’t there now.

The tension that had twisted his insides slowly eased. He was still standing at pulse-gun point, but soldiers were easy compared to her.

Ren glanced at Asher and found him staring down the small group with his gaze laser-focused on their weapons. Asher narrowed his eyes, assessing, and his hand drifted over to Ren. He placed his palm on Ren’s forearm and shook his head slightly. Ren took that as a signal to wait and not reveal himself. He hadn’t planned to, not without knowing more information, but Asher’s agreement was a reassurance.

“Who is the new management?” Asher asked, voice calm.

Asher’s voice startled the soldiers, and their weapons snapped up. “Hands up where we can see them!”

Ren dropped his bag at his feet and reluctantly raised his hands as did Asher and Ollie.

“No problem.” Asher pointed to Darby. “Please release our friend.”

The leader was taller than the others. His words exuded confidence, but his body language lacked the marks of a career soldier. He didn’t hold himself like Asher. He didn’t move like Asher. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“We’re only holding her because she tried to run as soon as she saw us.”

Ollie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Everyone has to be processed when they enter the drift. We’ll release her if she promises to stay with you.”

“She does,” Asher said, cutting Darby off. He glared at her, and she snapped her mouth shut. She shook her head so black and purple hair sprayed over her forehead and cheeks.

“Fine!”

They dropped her, and she scuttled across the small gap between the groups. She situated herself slightly behind Ollie and next to Ren’s shoulder.

“Now,” Asher said, hands still raised, “answer my question. Who is the new management? Who do you represent?”

“We represent the planets under the divine guidance of our leader, Millicent, Mistress of the Stars.”

Shock hit Ren full-force. He staggered back. “What the coggin’ what? Millicent?”

The soldier who previously held Darby lit up at her name. “Do you know her? Isn’t she amazing? She took over this whole drift in seconds.”

Another spoke up, grin wide under his face shield. “She touched my arm once.”

Ren gaped, mouth working uselessly. Not only had Millicent somehow supplanted Vos, but her soldiers were… groupies.

Asher asked. “How long was I gone?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been asleep.”

“Hey, stop talking.” The leader jabbed his prod under Ren’s ribs, dangerously close to his wound.

Ren recoiled, and Darby stepped in front of him. “Hey, don’t be a cog. We’re not resisting.” She sighed, then amended. “Anymore. Not resisting anymore. We’re not going to resist. Okay?”

Ren inhaled shakily. The prod brought up memories of his capture, of watching Jakob killed by Vos’s trained army. The poke was too close for comfort to his wound. And Millicent’s name carried its own weighty connotations of fear and manipulation. Panic hovered close, but Ren steeled himself, gritted his teeth, and took a few deep breaths. He ducked his head into the collar of the jacket he wore, but even with its familiar smell and fabric, he shivered, and his skin went clammy. He had Asher with him and Ollie, and, despite her questionable allegiance, Darby was there too. He’d be okay. He’d be okay. He’d be okay.

The soldier shifted and dropped the tip of the prod. “All new visitors to all of our leader’s empire must be processed. Those are the rules.”

Asher stiffened. “What do you mean processed? Who are you looking for?”

“Phoenix Corps, mostly, and any known traitors to the cause.”

The leader elbowed the speaker. “They don’t need to know that. Only the basics to civilians, remember?”

The soldier bowed his head, effectively cowed.

Ren and Asher shared an incredulous glance.

“Is there anyone else on your ship? The registry was blocked when you docked.”

“A pilot,” Asher confirmed. “But he already left. He shuttled us from Phoebus.”

The leader nodded. “Good. Phoebus was the first of the leader’s new empire. You will be familiar with the new protocols on Echo as well.”

“Right. See, we’ve already been processed on Phoebus. So, we shouldn’t have to do it again.” Darby smiled, bright and wide.

“Do you have your badges?”

“Oh, we left them on the ship. I didn’t think we’d need them here.”

“Too bad. But if you passed last time, then no worries here.”

Darby mouthed an expletive.

The comm on the leader’s shoulder crackled. “We have another ship docking in bay seven, slip two. No one has disembarked yet, but ship has three registered passengers that will need to be processed.”

The leader responded. “Send Bravo Team to the slip. We’re bringing four to the processing center right now.”

He nonchalantly rested the tip of his prod on Ren’s sternum. His finger slipped close to the trigger. Ren’s whole body tensed; power automatically surged in his middle. He trembled and resisted the impulse to cut the power or to turn the weapon against the soldier.

The voice came back over the comm. “Acknowledged.”

“Come along then,” he said to the group. “No more stalling.”

The end of the weapon slid down Ren’s body, caught on his shirt, then dropped away. Ren let out a stuttered breath.

Millicent’s army moved with surprising precision as two took the lead in front of Ren and the other two swooped behind them. With a pulse gun at his back, Ren stumbled forward. Asher caught his arm, steadied him, gripped tight; his mouth was pulled down. Ren shook his head and straightened. His stomach roiled. His heart pounded. His throat tightened. But he held on, took Asher’s hand in his and squeezed back, taking comfort in the sensation, grounding himself with physical contact. It helped.

The soldiers marched them through the drift. Asher stayed close to Ren’s side. Darby and Ollie closed in around him as they navigated the corridors and passageways.

Clustered together, Ren dipped his head. “Do any of you have a plan?”

“Not yet,” Asher said through gritted teeth. His jaw clenched. His gaze darted around the drift, taking everything in. The corridors they walked were empty save for soldiers. The vibrancy usually found on drifts had been either snuffed out or regulated to certain areas.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Ren said. “You’re a birdman. They’re going to figure that out.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re a traitor to their leader’s cause. So yeah, we’re cogging crunched.”

Darby tripped forward and caught her balance on Asher’s shoulder. “What are we going to do?” she whispered quickly.

“We?” Ren asked. “I thought you weren’t sticking with us?”

“Better with you and freaky science-magic that I trust than freaky science-magic from a person I’ve not met. Worse yet, a person who you seem scared of. And that scares me.”

“She doesn’t scare me,” Ren muttered. “She concerns me.”

“She’s terrifying,” Asher said. “She literally cares about no one other than herself. And I want to know what happened to Vos. He might not be the leader, but he’s still around I’m sure.”

“Without Abiathar to control her…” Ren trailed off. That was it. Without someone who could control her, she’d broken the hold Vos had over her. She’d gone rogue. She had deposed Vos and taken over his army for herself and turned them into zealots following a higher power. Vos wasn’t behind Phoebus or Echo. It was Millicent.

“If she ditched him,” Ollie said, “what if he could be persuaded to our side?”

“I wouldn’t trust him at all.”

“No. I wouldn’t either. But he’s not evil. He’s misguided, yes, and grandiose. But he had a goal and a purpose. Millicent has neither.” Asher glanced around. The guards weren’t paying them any attention. “If she’s building an empire without him, what would be the last thing she’d want?”

Ren perked up. “The prisoners from Perilous Space released. Not only is Abiathar there, and he could regain control over her, but there might be someone else there who could challenge her.”

“Also, you,” Asher said, gripping Ren’s hand. “With you gone, she’s pretty much invincible. And if you’re processed here, and she finds out…”

“I’m dead. Again.”

“Cut the power,” Darby said. “Then we can run. Or you take over the drift. You can do that, can’t you?”

Ren winced. “I could, but…”

“Millicent makes Ren sick.” Ollie coughed into his fist when one of the guards looked back.

“What do you mean sick?”

Ren crinkled his nose. “Her power affects me physically. It’s… not good.”

“Great.”

The group stopped in front of a lift and waited. The conversation was suspended for the time being. They crowded in and went up several floors in tense silence.

The energy and the signatures of the weapons thudded under Ren’s skin. He could disable them. Then they could run. To where? Rowan was already gone. All the docks were monitored. And surely Millicent had planted traps in the systems. She could incapacitate him, and then where would they be?

Wrapping his arms around his middle, Ren bent forward at the thought of the way Millicent could pull him in and push him out and how it affected his body.

“Hey.” The leader pushed his prod into Ren’s shoulder. “Is he okay? He looks sick.”

Asher draped his arm over Ren’s shoulders. “He’s fine.”

“He doesn’t look it.”

“What happened to the Corps on this drift?” Asher changed the subject away from Ren. He tilted his head and eyed their weapons. “I don’t expect they gave up the drift willingly.”

“Some did,” he answered with a shrug. “When they saw what our divine leader could do with a blink of her beautiful, glowing eyes, they laid down their weapons. Those that didn’t were vented.”

Asher’s expression didn’t betray him, but he his grip on Ren’s shoulders tightened.

They were spared any further conversation when the bell dinged and the doors opened. They shuffled out, and Ren received a push in the back when he didn’t move fast enough. He stumbled into Darby and apologized.

They approached the processing center. A large black drape flapped over the Phoenix Corps symbol that blazed from the top of the entrance. The red phoenix rising from ashes with wings spread shone through the thin fabric despite the attempt to hide it, and its imposing figure burned across the whole floor. Orange and red symbolic flames rose and curled on either side of the archway. Ren was reminded of the fire that lit the sky on Bara as they fled the Phoenix Corps encampment.

“I could do it.” Ren fluttered his eyes shut. “I could do it. Shut it all down and take over.”

“You’re not. We’ll just have to escape without…” Asher rolled his eyes upward. “…using freaky science-magic.”

Ollie snickered.

Darby looked around the area. She spied something and her frown bloomed into a crooked smirk. Her dark eyes lit up. “I got this, fellas. Leave it to me.”

“Four for processing,” the leader said to a woman at a large reception desk. She wore matching body armor but no helmet. Her dark hair was in a messy knot at the top of her head, and her nails clicked on the equipment as she typed. Dark makeup lined her eyes, and two bright violet circles colored her cheeks. She scanned the leader’s data pad with a wand and huffed as she spun in her chair and hovered to a data screen.

The leader pointed his weapon toward a row of seats in a waiting area and addressed the group. “Wait over there.”

Asher raised an eyebrow, but they walked over, his arm still draped across Ren’s shoulders.

“Got that plan yet?” he asked Darby.

Darby grinned. “Oh, yeah.” She lifted her chin at the guard-acting-receptionist. “That one is the mark.”

“Why that one?”

“For as dim as the ones who picked us up on the dock are, the ones left behind are always dimmer.”

“You’ll bet our lives on that?”

Darby winked, dark eyes sparkling. “Who do you think I am, birdman?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Well,” she flipped her chin-length hair. “Your loss.”

Darby waited until the group who’d arrested them left. She looked around the area until her gaze settled on the guard waiting at the entrance. That one held a pulse gun and leaned against the doorway with his ankles crossed. She pursed her lips and stood.

With a saunter of her hips and an arch of her back, she approached the desk. The receptionist narrowed her eyes. “Hey, don’t come any closer.”

Darby frowned but stopped. “Seriously?”

“You need to step away and go back over there and wait.”

Darby nodded. “I understand, but I have a problem.” She ignored the previous order and closed the distance to the desk. She leaned across the surface, propping herself up on her elbows. “It’s just… you see the little one over there?” She jerked her head toward Ren.

Ren tried not to take offense, but in comparison to Ollie and Asher, he was indeed the smaller one.

“Yeah? What of him?”

“Well,” Darby said, sliding even farther across the desk. She dropped her voice. “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but he’s a duster.”

“So?”

“He’s a duster who had to leave his planet due to a sickness.”

The receptionist’s eyebrows knit together, and her purple lips thinned into a line. “So? I’m a duster. I had to leave my planet because it was crowded, and we all had to stay under the ground because of weeds generations ago who destroyed our environment.”

“Ah, you get it then. I picked up that you were smarter than the others. What was your name?”

“Fawn.” She tapped her long, red nails against her lips. Her suspicious expression eased into confusion. “I get what?”

Darby raised an eyebrow. “I would think that a duster from an overcrowded planet would understand the implications of a plague, Fawn. Especially in a confined space.”

“A confined space?” she asked slowly.

“Like a drift for instance. This drift. You get it though, right?” Darby shook her head. “I told those cogs that brought us in not to break the ship’s quarantine. I mean, it’s only been a few days since we left his planet, but they wouldn’t listen. They pulled him right out of his little plastic room.” Darby sighed. “He watched his sister die, and then we took him on the ship. His fever hadn’t even abated yet. I still think he might have one. Doesn’t he look pale to you?”

Ren saw the moment Fawn got the implication. Color drained from her face, and her eyes widened. Ren coughed into his fist and curled even smaller, leaning heavily against Asher’s side.

“It just takes one highly contagious individual with a disease from planet-side that most drifters wouldn’t be immune to. And he would infect the whole drift. Actually,” Darby said, looking sorrowfully over to Ren, “you’re not from Stahl, are you? You’re probably not immune to it either. Few people are.”

Fawn leaned away from the desk and scooted her chair away. “His sister died?”

“Oh yeah, he told us all about it. She turned green and she started vomiting this thick, black disgusting stuff. It was as if she was liquefying. She ran a fever so high that it cooked her internal organs. It sounded gruesome.”

“What?” her voice was a whisper.

“Can you imagine the population of an entire drift slowly turning to liquid?” Darby waved her hand in Ren’s direction. “It happens suddenly too. Like one minute you’re sitting there and the next you’re doubled over.” She shot a significant look at Ren.

Ren took his cue. He clapped a hand over his mouth and bent in half, almost toppling out of the chair. His back bowed and he made a muffled noise—part groan and part gag.

Fawn shot to her feet.

“Get him out of here!”

“Are you sure? We haven’t been processed yet…”

“Yes!” She pointed to the door. Her arm flailed wildly; her intricate knot of hair fell to the side. “Go! Get out of here.”

Asher pulled Ren to his feet.

“Do we need anything to…”

Fawn threw a handful of green tags at them. They fluttered to the floor, and Darby scrambled to pick them up. She stood and waved as Asher and Ren hustled for the exit.

“Thanks so much, Fawn. You don’t know how many lives you saved today. In fact—”

Ollie grabbed Darby by the back of her collar and dragged her toward the door. Darby continued to spout platitudes and grandiose statements about Fawn being a hero and how Darby would tell all her superiors about how smart she was and considerate of her fellow dusters and the arrogant drifters.

“You’re a hero, Fawn!” Darby yelled as they stumbled out of the recruitment area and walked quickly to the lift.

“Laying it on too thick is going to get us caught,” Ollie said, snatching a green tag from Darby’s hand. He snapped it on his pocket.

Ren took one as well and clipped it to the collar of Asher’s drifter jacket. It flapped against his chest with every step.

“Let me have a little fun,” she said, flipping them a smile. “It was one of my finer performances. But Ren, I have to say, you really sold it. Looking all pathetic and then pretending to spew was genius.”

“I try,” Ren said dryly.

Darby skipped through the hallways and spun around. A wide smile split her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve had people,” she said out of the blue. “I’ve forgotten how fun it can be. Think of what we could accomplish together. Think of the scams we could run. I want to stick with you. Can I stick with you?”

“That’s fine with us,” Ollie replied. “But maybe tone it down a little so we don’t draw attention. And we’ll have to discuss the scamming part.”

Darby laughed. “Manipulating attention is what I’m good at.”

“Enough,” Asher said. He took Ren’s hand, and guided the four of them to a corner of the drift, in the shadows. He inspected the ceilings. “This might be a camera blind spot, but I don’t know what good that will do. If Millicent is monitoring the feeds here, then we’re already crunched.”

“She’s not.” Ren leaned against the wall. “I sensed it when we first got here. This drift is running on its own. She’s set it up to conserve power and run efficiently by itself, so she doesn’t have to come back.”

Darby scrunched her nose. “Why would she do that? Wouldn’t she want to check in on her empire?”

“She’s only one person. And even as a star host, she’s not powerful.” Ren flexed his free hand. “The last time we interacted, she still had to be touching an object to control it.”

“Which is why she needs zealots like those so-called soldiers. She showed them something amazing, and they followed blindly.” Asher blushed and looked to Ren, and Ren heard the similarities and truth in Asher’s words. “They believe in her.”

“Well, yeah,” Darby said. “I have seen some shit since I was kidnapped by you losers and I have to say that if Ren asked me to jump out of an airlock, I might actually do it.”

Ren raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I wouldn’t do it, but I did get us out of jam with my superior acting skills when I could’ve bolted and left you in the atmosphere.”

“We’re glad you didn’t do that, Darby,” Ollie said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for rescuing us by nonviolent means.”

She beamed.

“Now,” Ollie said, rubbing his hands together. “We need a ship and a way out of here.”

“One with crew we can overpower if needed.” Darby said echoing Penelope.

So much for nonviolence.

“Or one we can steal.” Ollie smacked Ren on the back. “Are you up for it?”

“If I need to be.”

Asher’s smile was rueful. “I think we need you to be.”

“Okay, then. I can do it.”

With a sinking feeling, Ren led the others toward the lift. They didn’t pass anyone, and the lift was empty when they boarded. They went down and exited on the dock level.

“Where is everyone?” Darby’s energy had settled and now she squinted as she surveyed the drift. A few citizens milled about, all wearing green badges, but they eyed the group suspiciously and didn’t engage them. “This place should be bustling. Especially since drift time would be about the middle of their cycle.”

“Hiding.”

“From those jerks?”

“They still have prods and pulse guns. And someone untrained is more dangerous than someone who is.”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty scary, Ash,” Darby said. “The way you move definitely gives you away. Efficient and precise. Like power barely controlled. To a trained eye, like myself, you’d be the opposite of what we’d look for in a good mark.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, you should. Only green meat would try to pickpocket or scam you.”

Asher led them toward the entrance to the docking bays. Ren held his breath as they passed a group of soldiers with the same black uniforms and body armor. The soldiers looked up and down at Ren, scanning his body, noting the green badge. They continued on their way without incident, and Ren almost collapsed in relief.

Ren wished he could merge with the drift’s systems. He wished he could burrow into the vid feeds and scout out the dock. He wished he could search the ship registries and find one that would meet their needs and purpose. He wished he could save this drift, dig in and root out all of Millicent’s snares and protocols, and free the people. But he got one inkling of her star signature and nausea rolled over him, and his body went weak in his joints.

“We’ll start in the bay where we came in. I thought I saw a good ship we can borrow.”

Darby grumbled about semantics.

They entered the docking bay, and Ren was flooded with sensation. He stopped short. Asher bumped into his back.

“Ren?”

Ren ran. He sprinted around a corner. Asher was a half-step behind him.

“Ren! What are you—” Asher skidded to a halt beside him. “Rowan?”

9

Rowan startled at the sound of her name and dropped the prod in her hand. It clattered on the ground. She kicked it away from the prone guard’s outstretched fingers, though he was in no condition to reach for it. “Oh, good,” she said, with a smug grin. “I don’t have to rescue you then.”

“What are you doing here?” Asher sputtered.

“We made it to the trade route and turned around.” She shrugged and looked away, unwilling to meet Asher’s gaze. “Pen’s disapproving silence and Lucas’s forced humor were enough of a punishment.”

“You didn’t have to come back.” Asher crossed his arms. “We had it under control.”

She toed the guard and rolled him to his back as he groaned. “Sure, you did.”

Darby and Ollie jogged up to join them, and Darby huffed. “We were about to steal a ship, but I guess that plan is off.”

Asher clenched his jaw, and color rose in his cheeks. “Borrow a ship.”

Rowan raised a perfect eyebrow. “Completely under control, huh?” Asher didn’t respond. Rowan tugged her braid. “Also, what the hell is this about the divine leader Millicent, Mistress of the Stars?”

Ren wrinkled his nose. “We’ll explain later. Let’s get out of here.”

“What did you do?” Darby asked, peering down at the guard. She studied him, eyes narrowed, fingertip tapping her chin. Once gauging he was not a threat, Darby went for his pockets and rifled through them. No one stopped her.

“He was talking cogging strangely about a divine leader and how I needed to be processed. So, I stole his weapon and sparked him with it.”

“Reasonable course of action,” Darby said. She pulled out a credit chip and pocketed it. “Oh, ID card! Nice! Might need this later.” That also disappeared into the depths of her pockets.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let you…” Rowan addressed Ren, Asher, and Ollie, then nodded her head to Darby. “I shouldn’t have let you four leave. It was a bad decision. Though…” She held up a finger. “…I still maintain that this whole scheme of finding Ren’s brother is reckless. I may have found a change of heart, but it’s entirely dependent on if you can come up with a decent plan.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder.

Asher lightly punched Rowan in the arm. “Apology accepted. And yes,” Asher glanced at the groaning guard. “We have new problems.”

“And a new resolve,” Ren added. “But can we leave first?”

Darby straightened. “Yeah. This drift is creepy, and I want off. Besides, I need to hear more about this divine leader that you all seem to know.”

Rowan nodded sharply. “Right. Let’s go. And put the prod down, Darby. That thing is not coming on my ship. Honestly, I don’t understand the appeal. A pulse gun does the job just as well and from a distance. It’s elegant.”

Darby frowned, but dropped the prod. “Did you just call a weapon elegant? Rowan, I feel we may have missed out on some bonding. We need to remedy this.”

“Later. Follow me.”

They crept down the row of bays. The Star Stream called to Ren as he approached. It welcomed him as it always did, and Ren’s power engaged. His vision went blue, and he opened himself to the systems and circuits.

“You’re glowing,” Asher said in a low voice. He knocked his shoulder into Ren’s arm.

“I’m home.”

Asher’s grin widened into a full-blown smile. “Good to know.”

Aboard the ship, the tension Ren carried in his spine and shoulders eased. Penelope and Lucas waited on the other side of the airlock.

“Good to see you,” Lucas said, with his goggles on his head and his brown hair sticking up. “Long time no see.”

“Shut up,” Rowan said, stepping into the ship, heading for the stairs.

Lucas’s grin only widened. He pounced on Ollie when he walked in, and Penelope followed suit. Someone snagged Ren’s arm as he tried to maneuver around them, and he was swallowed in a bone-crushing hug. Asher rolled his eyes and grudgingly joined in.

“You cogs are weird.” Darby followed Rowan up the stairs and dodged Penelope’s attempt at scooping her into the group hug.

“Lucas, get us off this hunk.” Rowan rested her crossed arms on the railing above them. “The rest of you, common room. Now!”

* * *

Gathered in the common area, Ren sat on the couch with his legs draped over Asher’s lap. Asher absently rubbed Ren’s leg over the fabric of his trousers; the heat of his palm bled through the cloth to Ren’s skin. Even as light and nonchalant as it was, his touch helped soothe the tremble of fatigue in Ren’s muscles. The casual intimacy of their position was not lost on Ren, and his body warmed, and his pulse quickened. Their relationship wasn’t a secret, but they’d not been this openly tactile. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment, but Ren kept his head ducked to spare himself from knowing looks. He tucked his bare toes under the arm of the couch and waited for Rowan to ask questions.

Lucas and Penelope sprawled in the dining chairs. Ollie sat on the deck plate with his back to the front of the couch, and Darby perched, cross-legged, on the table.

Rowan stood, arms crossed, posture straight.

“Feet off the table,” she said, giving Darby a stern look.

Darby rolled her eyes but kicked out her legs, so her boots hung off the end. “Yes, Captain.”

“Captain?” Asher sputtered. “Just call her Rowan, or she’ll get a bigger head than she already has.”

“I thought it was appropriate. She did come back for us in kind of true, badass lady fashion. I mean, she did take away the opportunity of Ren and I stealing—” Ren coughed. Darby blew out a breath. “Really? Fine, borrowing a ship, but, you know, can’t win them all.”

“We would’ve returned the ship. If we could’ve.”

Darby scoffed. “You stopped me from stealing this ship and you stopped me from stealing another ship. You are a killjoy, Ren. I don’t say that lightly.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“Whatever, blue eyes. Maybe turn that down a little bit, okay?”

Ren hadn’t realized he was using his star, but at her words, he did find himself unconsciously running through a systems diagnostic. Everything was in working order, which was to be expected as he had only left a few hours ago. There was not much Lucas could do to break the ship in that time, and Penelope could’ve fixed anything minor.

Asher put his arm around Ren’s shoulders and lightly tousled the longer strands of Ren’s hair.

“I was checking the systems.”

Rowan shifted her weight and cocked her hip. “Anyway, now that we’ve left the empire of the divine leader Millicent, does anyone want to fill me in on how the hell that happened?”

“We don’t have much more information than you do unfortunately.” Ollie stretched his back, then dropped his hands. “Those soldiers on Echo are zealots under the thrall of Millicent.”

“That’s unsettling,” Lucas said. Penelope elbowed him. “What? She was unsettling. I don’t think anyone is arguing that point. And it’s not like she’s here to hear me say that I found her creepy behavior unsettling. She was the definition of unsettling.”

“Okay, so like, how do you people know this lady?” Darby spread out her hands. “Is she a friend or something?”

“No.”

“Ex-friend.”

“Kind of.”

Darby looked at Asher, Ren, and Penelope, and made a face. “Which is it?”

“I met her when I was trapped on Ren’s planet under the reign of an autocrat named Vos. She left before Ren arrived. We ran into her again on Mykonos, and she was under the control of Abiathar, a star host who can control other stars with his voice. We released her, and she agreed to become part of the crew, until she betrayed us on Crei and was instrumental in my capture by the Phoenix Corps and Ren’s mortal injury.”

Darby’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. Okay. So, she’s the one who,” she waved her hand.

“No, Corporal Zag shot me.”

“And he’s?”

“Phoenix Corps,” Asher said. “Like me.”

“Oh. That’s… complicated. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Millicent is obviously no longer under Vos’s control,” Rowan said. “She’s taken over Phoebus and Echo. Who knows what other drifts she hopes to target. And for what purpose?”

“Power,” Asher said.

“No.” Ren shook his head. He shared a look with Ollie. “Millicent left Crei because of the opportunity to escape her situation. Power isn’t what drives her.”

“What is it then? It’s not for anyone’s benefit but her own. That much is obvious.”

“You’re right on that front,” Ren said as Asher drummed his fingers on Ren’s shin. “She’s not in it to make friends.”

Ollie frowned. “She wants freedom.”

“She doesn’t want to be confined to a single drift. She was confined on Crei, in more ways than one. She wants to move freely and by taking over several drifts she’s able to maneuver.” Ren laid his hand over Asher’s, stilling the movement. “She’s building a base.”

Asher squeezed Ren’s hand.

“What does this mean for us?” Rowan paced, her boot heels clicking.

Asher sighed. “It means we can’t run and hide.”

Ren threaded his fingers with Asher’s. “The best way for a star host to be able to have freedom from the Corps and from Vos is to destroy both the Corps and Vos.”

“We have to stop her,” Ollie said.

“I agree.” Darby propped her head on her crossed knees and put her boots back on the table. “I don’t want to live through another Phoebus and, as much fun as Echo was, I don’t think the hilarity would hold when she decides to vent everyone because being a ruler doesn’t suit her anymore.”

“What can we do to thwart someone who can control tech and makes our own technopath ill when they interact?” Rowan asked more to herself than the group.

Ren rubbed his eyes. “Free Abiathar.”

Rowan stopped pacing. “What? Free that cog? So he can turn you against us? I don’t think so.”

“He’s in Perilous Space with Liam. It’s worth a try.”

“Or we could get an ancient gun like Zag did and shoot her. It worked on Ren.” Ren narrowed his eyes at Lucas, and Lucas raised his hands. “What? It’s a valid option. Unsettling!”

Penelope raised her hand. “Maybe we should figure out a way for Ren to be able to… override Millicent? Do you think that might be possible?”

Asher resumed his rubbing of Ren’s legs with more focus and with more pressure. Ren bit off a gasp when Asher’s fingers dug into a tender spot on his calf.

Ren cleared his throat. “I could try?”

“Sorry, Ren,” Asher said with a frown, “but that’s not a good enough plan. That’s not a plan at all. We don’t even know what we’re going to do when we get to the prison.”

“We’re puttering in that direction, right now,” Lucas said. “In case anyone cares.”

Rowan scrubbed her hands over her face, then dropped them, fists clenched.

“We need to talk to Mother,” Rowan said.

Asher recoiled into the cushions. “Do we have to?”

“I’m missing something,” Darby said. “Who is your mother?”

Rowan and Asher shared a glance, and Rowan tugged on her braid. “Our mother is the esteemed Councilor Morgan of the Drift Alliance.”

“Your mother is a politician?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

Rowan rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately. She has to know what is happening to the drifts. And if what those cogs said was true, if Millicent vented those Corps soldiers, Mother needs to know that as well. She can pass the information on to VanMeerten.”

Asher laughed without humor. “Do you think she’ll tell the general anything? They hate each other.”

Rowan shrugged. “It’s worth a try. Especially if Mother can send help. Maybe she can convince the Corps to release the prisoners in Perilous Space without us having to get involved.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Does she even know what they’re using Perilous Space for? And last time we talked to your mother, before she met me, she didn’t even believe people like me existed. Now, we’re going to tell her Millicent is killing people and taking over drifts? And that’s somehow going to convince her to allow the star hosts in Perilous Space to be released?”

“You have to admit that you are farfetched,” Darby chimed.

Ren glared.

“What?”

Lucas stood. “I’ll get the comm set up.”

“I’ll get ready.” Asher gently pushed Ren’s legs from his lap. He shot him an apologetic smile, then kissed Ren’s cheek.

Ren’s heart raced, and his blush deepened.

Darby whistled and grinned ear to ear. She raised both eyebrows in quick succession and laughed at Ren’s mortified expression. Asher made an impolite gesture with his fingers when he left the room.

“Rude!” she called after him.

Ren buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Ren stood at Asher’s shoulder while he and Rowan prepared to face their mother. Rowan brushed imaginary lint from Asher’s shirt. Throat bobbing and jaw working, Asher swept the ends of his blond hair from his forehead.

Ren tentatively placed his hand on Asher’s shoulder and squeezed.

“You should be out of sight,” Asher said and immediately pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, that came out badly. But you shouldn’t be where they can see you.”

Ren admitted it stung, but he understood. By all accounts, he was dead, and they needed to keep it that way. “I’ll be right over there.”

“Okay you two, show time. Best smiles,” Lucas said, pressing buttons and flipping switches.

Ren left the bridge but hid behind the doorway. He tucked himself into the small space at the top of the stairs between the sliding door and the entrance. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins. His stomach flip-flopped when he reached into the systems.

He boosted the signal as Lucas put in a message request with the councilor. Through the comm system and the vid feeds, the screen was a blanket of interference and snow until the ship connected and a clear picture slowly sharpened.

Councilor Morgan looked remarkably like her children. She had the same light-blonde hair and the same vibrant green eyes. She had their strong jaws and straight noses and light brows. Wrinkles spread out from the corners of her eyes, and she had frown lines around her mouth. She was beautiful and strong and terrifying when she forced a smile at her children.

“Good morning, my loves,” Councilor Morgan said as she smoothed her hair from her eyes. “I haven’t heard from you in months. Asher, I thought you were back with the Corps.”

“I left,” he said flatly.

Her smile didn’t move, but her eyes gave her away. “Is that wise? They’ll court-martial you.”

“I’m fine.”

Her smiled wavered. “I’m sorry about what happened to your little friend. I know he was dear to you.”

Asher didn’t move; his expression seemed frozen. “He was. I loved him.”

Ren’s breath caught. Warmth was like a live wire in his middle, and he shivered and pressed a smile into his knees. The fabric of his trousers felt coarse against his mouth.

Councilor Morgan’s expression remained placid. She changed the subject. “And Rowan? Still drifting from place to place with those friends of yours?”

Rowan’s smile was frightening. “Yes, Mother. Actually, I wanted to talk with you about that. We’ve recently been to Echo drift and—”

“Oh? You’re far out in the cluster, my dear. I’ve not been to Echo in years. It’s almost as quaint as the planets Asher is fond of.”

“Have you heard anything about Echo? Or about Phoebus? Or any others?”

Their mother shook her head. “No, dears. You understand there are so many drifts these days that it’s difficult to keep up with them all. Echo and Phoebus are so small and far out from Mykonos. Why? Are they having trouble?” Her eyes flitted to stare at something off screen.

Rowan and Asher shared an uneasy glance.

“Yes,” Asher said.

Councilor Morgan’s gaze slid off screen again, and Rowan stepped forward.

“Who’s there with you, Mother?”

“What?” Her manicured fingers rested against her throat. “No one is here with me.”

“Don’t lie to us. Is it Corps? Vos? That girl Millicent?”

She sighed and put her hands on her hips, all pretentions vanishing. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.” She addressed the individual off screen. “Well, Grace, might as well come out from hiding.”

Grace?

A shadow moved across the screen, and Ren clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp.

She looked different with her iron-gray hair falling around her shoulders rather than pulled back in a severe bun. Her scar was unmistakable, stretching from her ear, down the line of her jaw, then stopping at her chin. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, and the shapeless dress she wore made her appear softer than normal, though her gaze was as sharp as ever.

Asher jolted back. Ren jerked, and moved to run to Asher’s side, but stopped himself. Asher made a movement with his hand, and Ren recognized it as a signal to stay put. He crouched behind the door.

“Private Morgan,” VanMeerten said, peering down her nose. Her eyes seemed hard and glinting with disapproval. She swished a glass of wine; the red liquid swirled like blood. “There you are. The last I had heard, you were lost in a commotion on Bara that was blamed on the residents of the nearby city. Now I must conclude that it was your sister who destroyed the generators and aided in your desertion. I’ll be issuing a warrant for both of your arrests.”

“You will do no such thing, Grace.” Councilor Morgan slammed her hand on the table. Her tone dripped with venom as she continued. “You leave my children alone. Whatever truce is between us extends to them.”

VanMeerten eyed Asher and Rowan. “You’re lucky your mother has the means and power to stay my hand for the time being, but, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a deserter and a traitor, Asher, and you, Rowan, are a pirate.”

Rowan lifted her chin. “And you’re a bitch, but name-calling isn’t going to bring us any closer to figuring out how to stop the attacks on the drifts. We’ve encountered two drifts that have been sieged by zealots.”

VanMeerten set her glass of wine on the councilor’s desk. “No need to worry. We have the situation well in hand.”

“Right,” Asher said. “And how do you plan to stop her? Are you going to use the prisoners in Perilous Space to do so? I know you have someone there that can manipulate others with his voice. His name is Abiathar, if you’ve forgotten. We captured him on Mykonos.”

“Why would we need to utilize that ancient cog?”

“Oh, do you have another trick up your sleeve? Is Zag going to hide around a corner and shoot her with an ancient projectile, like you did Ren? Kill her from a distance? Like a coward?”

VanMeerten’s eyes flashed. “I don’t have to justify Corps decisions to you.”

“No, you don’t.” Asher strode forward, hands clenched. “That’s the problem. You have no accountability to anyone and indiscriminately make decisions that affect others with no regard to the consequences on dusters and drifters alike!” His chest heaved. His voice rose, banged through the silence, echoed around the small area of the bridge. “You’re the real villain.”

“How dare you lecture me! That star host was dangerous. He was bringing that tunnel down around you all, and you would have let him.”

“He was afraid.”

“He was wild and out of control. He was possessed!”

“He was a teenager!” Asher pointed a shaking finger. “He was doing the best he knew how to do. He was frightened and unsure and only wanted to go home, but he couldn’t, because the Corps had taken that home away. And you’ve done the same to others, and now they’re rebelling and trying to make a safe haven for themselves. You’re not the only one to blame, but you’ve as much of the burden to shoulder as anyone else.”

“We already have the suspect in custody.” She placed her hands on the table and loomed over them. “I won’t deny that you’re passionate, but its best to know the facts before you jump onto a soap box.”

Asher bristled and shrugged off Rowan’s placating touch to his shoulder.

Councilor Morgan spread her hands; her mouth twisted into a frown. “Asher and Rowan, please, leave this business to the general and myself. We are aware of the situation in the outlier drifts. We have no plans to allow it to escalate further. You two should find a place to relax for a few weeks while we rid the drifts of these ridiculous dusters and their dreams of grandeur.”

Asher didn’t move, but Rowan knuckled her eyes in exasperation.

“Mother, we’re dealing with something you don’t seem to understand.”

“Who do you have in custody?” Asher asked.

“Don’t answer,” VanMeerten snapped. “That’s need-to-know, and a deserter doesn’t need to know.”

Rowan threw up her hands. “Mother—”

“Rowan, please, don’t do anything rash.” Councilor Morgan picked up her own wine glass. “I know it’s been a tough few weeks for the both of you. Please find a nice spot to rest. I’ll send you the credits to cover the cost, of the whole crew even, for you to have a nice relaxing vacation.”

“A vacation? Are you cogging—”

“Cut it off,” Asher said, waving his hand to Lucas. “Cut it off.”

The screen went dark. Ren pulled out of the systems and hurried through the entranceway to Asher’s side.

“Well,” Lucas said with false cheer, “at least they don’t hate each other anymore. That’s something, right?”

Rowan looked to the ceiling. Asher shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Rowan muttered, echoing their mother’s words. “A vacation. A vacation! And offering to pay for it! Who does that woman think I am? I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen! I don’t need her credits!” She wagged her finger in Ren’s face. “We’re going to Perilous Space. We’re going to find your brother. And we’re going to stop Millicent. I swear to the stars, a vacation!” Rowan stalked off, yelling over her shoulder. “I’ll tell the others!”

Lucas shot to his feet and followed, loudly talking about coordinates and space routes and the estimated time to arrival.

Asher leaned hard against Ren’s side. “I feel a headache coming.”

“Come along, then.” Ren threaded their fingers and gently tugged Asher off the bridge and down the hallway.

* * *

Asher closed the door behind them and leaned against it, allowing his head to fall back against the metal. “Finally, we’re alone.”

Ren smiled. “Too much?”

“My mother is always headache-inducing, not to mention the general. Also, Darby talks more than Pen and Lucas combined. Once you get her going she won’t stop.”

“Darby is something.”

“She is. You didn’t tell me she tried to steal the Star Stream out from under you.”

“I was kind of passed out on the deck and pretended to be a ship. Not my most brilliant moment and not something I’d want to share with the cute guy who likes me.”

Asher ducked his head and laughed. “You forget that I met you in a cell. I’ve seen it all, and you’re not going to scare me off.”

Ren sobered. “Thank you.” He shucked off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “Thank you for what you said to your mother. I needed to hear that.”

“You’re not going to scare me away, Ren. I’m with you.” Asher crossed the room and placed his large hands on the jut of Ren’s hips. He rested his forehead against Ren’s, and his green eyes fluttered closed. “It’s going to take much more than a little freaky science-magic and glow-action to scare me away.”

Ren looped his arms over Asher’s shoulders. “And I’m with you. Always. I messed up before, but not again. You’re all I have.”

Asher huffed. “That’s not true. I think Rowan likes you more than she likes me. Ollie certainly does. And Darby is in awe of you.”

“Rowan would fight the universe with her bare fists for you; don’t start.”

Chuckling, Asher nuzzled his nose along the line of Ren’s jaw up to his ear. “She might.” He kissed the line of Ren’s cheekbone.

Ren let out a stuttered breath. “She would.”

“You too are scarily alike. Maybe that’s why I fell for you.” Asher’s grip on Ren’s waist tightened. “Do you miss your family? Do you miss Erden?”

“No,” Ren lied. He missed his brother, but that was no secret. Sometimes, in the night, when memories filled the spaces in his head, Ren missed the simplicity of the village: the sense of knowing where he belonged; the structure and familiarity of the homes and the lake and the work; the seemingly petty village politics. He missed his mother—the person he had thought she was, not the one he knew now. He missed the secret visions of his father, the man he’d never met. He missed the small moments when his stepfather treated him like a son. He missed Jakob, the brash naïve boy who carried himself like royalty, and he missed the man he’d become, the protective and supportive friend. He missed Sorcha, the beautiful girl with the spine of steel, the fiery leader he’d left behind to rule. “No, I always wanted to be in space and here I am. I may miss a few things, like the smell of the earth after the rain and the sunrise over the lake. But I’m happy the Star Stream is my home now. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“You’re my home.”

The sound of that was small and vulnerable, and Ren’s heart ached. He tucked Asher closer in his arms, and slid one hand into the thick strands of Asher’s blond hair. “I’m tired. Let’s sleep.”

Asher nodded. “Good plan.”

“Come on.”

They dressed for bed and climbed into the small bunk together. Asher curled on his side and Ren spooned around him. His arm wrapped around Asher’s body; his palm pressed against Asher’s chest so the steady beat of his heart was beneath Ren’s hand.

Ren kissed Asher’s nape as Asher pulled the blanket over them. Asher fell asleep quickly. Ren stayed awake, measuring the passage of time by Asher’s heart beats and the small snoring sounds he made when he turned his face into the pillow. Ren never wanted to move. He never wanted to be anywhere else ever again except in this bunk on this ship with his past firmly behind him and his future ahead, uncertain and frightening, but thick with potential in the promises of Asher’s kisses and the faith of the crew. Even without that, Ren was content to lie there, in the questionable softness of the bunk, with his back pressed against the metal wall and his feet sticking out the other end of the blanket and his arm trapped beneath Asher’s body so fingers were slowly becoming numb. Ren could become used to this and he would revel in the magnificent predictability of an unextraordinary life.

This is what Ren wanted: a soft place to land at the end of the day, Asher right beside him, and all the domesticity and routine and happiness of a life filled with love and certainty.

He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped and hoped and hoped it was possible.

10

“We’ll be close to Perilous Space soon,” Lucas said, plopping into a chair at breakfast. “There is a debris field a few hours out, and the prison is beyond that.”

After three days of uneventful travel, knowing their destination was so close spiked Ren’s anxiety. He sipped his coffee, and Asher rubbed his back. Asher sopped up egg with his toast as his palm swept up and down Ren’s spine. Ren took comfort in the familiar touch and consciously eased the tension from his shoulders.

They had a semblance of a plan. The specifics were hazy at best, but they’d get close enough for Ren to create a blueprint of the prison and go from there. Asher and Rowan had scoured the archives they could access, and Ollie and Darby had made plans which involved weapons and bombs that Ren hoped they didn’t have to use. Penelope ordered Ren to have daily check-ins regarding his wound and his fatigue. With regular use, Ren’s muscles had stopped seizing and constantly feeling weak, but he was far from one hundred percent. Exhaustion was a constant threat, and Ren spent most of his time either working out or sleeping.

He didn’t mind that much, since Asher joined him when he was able.

Penelope dropped a plate of food in front of him. “Eat,” she ordered. “You need the protein and the energy.”

Ren rolled his eyes fondly, but took the fork from Penelope’s outstretched fingers. Digging in, Ren chewed as the others filtered in. Darby shuffled by, barely lifting her feet, with her hair standing on end, and wearing pajama pants with little dogs on them, obviously Penelope’s. Lucas stifled a laugh, and Darby mustered a glare that was tempered by the picture of a tiny barking dog on her shirt.

Asher pulled his hand away, laced his fingers over his empty plate, and put his elbows on the table. Ren missed the warmth of his touch, but he couldn’t be greedy. He’d spent the last three days in Asher’s bunk, napping and exploring all the ways they fit. It was the most corporeal he’d felt in weeks. His consciousness was firmly within his body, and the ship was merely an occasional echo in his head. It was wonderful.

Smiling dreamily, Ren shivered as someone passed behind him; their touch whispered over the base of his skull. He snapped his head around to find… no one.

“You okay?” Asher asked.

Ren squinted, confused. “Yeah. I’m fine, I just thought…” he trailed off. He shook off the phantom touch. “Nothing.”

Asher raised an eyebrow, but went back to sniping with Lucas and Ollie.

Ren snatched Asher’s toast crust and popped it in his mouth. As nervous as he was about approaching Perilous Space, he was excited as well. Soon he’d find Liam, and then they could focus on their future—the crew’s, his with Asher’s, Liam’s as well.

A thought caressed the back of his mind, a fleeting murmur that was not his own. He jerked in his seat. “What did you say?”

The room was quiet. “Ren?” Asher asked.

A new ship is approaching. Older model. It doesn’t look like one of the Corps.

Ren’s ran a hand over his head. “Did you say something to me?”

“No, Ren, we haven’t said anything.”

“Is there another ship out there, Lucas? I swear I thought I heard something.”

Lucas shook his head slowly. “Not that I saw before I came down here. I would’ve seen it. Are you picking it up on the sensors?”

Ren bit his lip. “I’m not in the ship.”

“Are you sure?”

Ren gave Lucas a pointed look.

“Well! You tend to do weird things. I don’t know.”

A wrinkle appeared between Asher’s eyebrows. Ren absently smoothed it away with the pad of his finger, then dropped his hand to his lap.

“I’m fine. I just…”

I wonder what they’re doing all the way out here. They don’t belong.

Don’t worry. I doubt it’s anything exciting.

Ren stood abruptly. “Did you hear that? Tell me you heard that!”

The wrinkle deepened. Darby’s wide eyes and Penelope’s open mouth told Ren otherwise. They didn’t hear it. What was happening? There had to be a ship. Ren jumped into the sensors and raced through the wires. He pinged outward, but there were no ships and no communications in the area, only the beginnings of the rings of debris. Ren raced to find Rowan in her quarters, but she wasn’t on the comm system, or on a data pad.

Asher took Ren’s hand. “Ren?”

“I’m in the sensors on purpose. And Lucas is right, there are no ships.” Ren slotted back into his body. Confusion and fear formed a knot in his stomach. “I’m… I’m going back to bed.”

He scrambled out of the common area, leaving his dirty dish on the table, and stumbled toward Asher’s bunk. He was hearing things. He was stressed. He was tired. He hadn’t eaten well. He wasn’t slipping. He couldn’t be slipping again. Millicent wasn’t there. She was off courting disaster on drifts, and he’d been securely in his body for the last several days. He stretched his fingers and curled them toward his palm. He sat heavily on the bunk and counted his heart beats, inhaling and exhaling, feeling his lungs fill and expand, then empty. Running his nails over his scalp, Ren dropped his head in his hands.

“Please don’t be slipping. Not now.” He was on the verge of panicking. He could feel it, crawling into his throat, tightening around his neck. Sweat formed at his temples and nape. His heart raced.

The door opened, and Ren startled.

Asher held out his palms. “Hey,” he said, shutting the door behind him, then sitting next to Ren on the bed. “What’s going on?”

Do you sense that? There’s one of us nearby.

Ren clapped his hands over his ears. He didn’t want to worry Asher, but he’d learned that keeping things bottled up was worse for him than telling Asher the truth.

“I’m hearing things,” he whispered. “And it’s not another ship or any of the crew sending messages.”

Asher made a low noise. “Are you stressed?”

Ren’s shoulders hunched near his ears, and the food he ate a few minutes ago swirled in his stomach. “Yes, of course.”

“Are you panicked?”

“No. I mean, yes, but it’s coming from the voices.” Ren dropped his hands and ran his palm up and down his thighs; the rough fabric of his trousers chafed against his skin, grounding him. “The voices aren’t a symptom of my panic attacks. But apparently they’re a trigger.” His breath hitched.

“It could be a new symptom, Ren. Despite the rest we’ve had the past few days, you’ve been running nonstop since you woke up. You were inside the ship for weeks. You’re fatigued. You might be feeling a few strange aftereffects.”

“Maybe,” Ren said, unease an unpleasant thrum beneath his skin. “You’re not wrong.”

Asher sighed. “Let’s take a nap.”

“We just woke up,” Ren said, lips tipping up into a half-smile.

Asher shrugged. “We didn’t sleep much the night before.”

“I’m not going to argue with a nap.”

“Good. Shove over.”

Asher manhandled Ren into where he wanted him, with Asher on his back and Ren tucked along his side. Ren’s arm was slung over Asher’s waist; his head rested on Asher’s shoulder.

“When this is over,” Asher said, tugging up the blanket, “we’re buying a better blanket and a new pillow.”

Ren snorted. “I don’t disagree. Your pillow is horrendously lumpy.”

Asher dug his fingers into Ren’s rib and made him squirm closer. Ren let out a breathless laugh, and the curl of Asher’s lips into a smile did more to abate the clench of his heart than anything else.

“It is. We’ll have to buy at least three pillows for our bed. And a bigger blanket, since you steal.”

Ren made a half-hearted protest, but closed his eyes and reveled in the warmth and comfort of Asher’s body. “It’ll be the first thing we do. After we storm a prison, save my brother, and stop a powerful technopath.”

“Go to sleep, Ren.”

Ren snuggled in and, between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.

* * *

The hollow thud of metal debris hitting the hull echoed through the Star Stream, but that was not what woke Ren from his dead sleep. It was the sound hidden within, the voice of the debris’ occupant. The bed was empty except for Ren and a tangle of sheets. He swung his legs over the side and didn’t bother taming his hair or putting on shoes before he was out into the hallway. Vision blue, Ren ran to the bridge.

Do you think they know we’re here?

Sprinting through the hallway of the crew quarters, Ren passed the open arch to the common area. He didn’t stop when Asher and Darby called his name. He jumped up the steps to the bridge, ducking at the last minute.

He was already connected to the ship; his star bled out of the soles of his feet into the sensors and outward. With every step he took, they became louder, and his connection with reality stretched and dimmed. Voices. So many whispers in his ears. Talking. To each other. Not to him. Do they know he was here? Do they know he can hear them? Was he eavesdropping? Was he picking up something on the sensors?

No, this was different. This was… surreal.

Lucas swiveled in his chair. “Ren?”

“What is that?” Ren asked, pointing to the debris that surrounded them.

“The debris field around Perilous Space. Where the last of the technopaths were destroyed in the war between them and the organization that became the Corps.”

Asher and Darby walked onto the bridge, and Asher clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“The voices.” Ren closed his eyes and opened himself. It was like a zipper being pulled, a revelation of power and energy, and, with that one action, the universe opened.

“Do you hear them?” Ren asked.

Ren turned his head to find Asher staring at him with wide eyes and a concerned frown.

“Ren? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ren squinted. Asher was beautiful bathed in blue.

“Can you hear that?”

Asher’s lips turned down farther. “Hear what, Ren?”

“The voices. They’re talking.”

Lucas opened the shipwide comm. “We’re approaching Perilous Space. All crew to the bridge. We may be having a situation.”

Asher crowded close to Ren’s side and placed his hands on Ren’s shoulders; the action was slow and deliberate. “Ren, tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s… voices. I hear voices.”

Biting his lip, Asher asked. “Is this panic? What do you need?”

“No, this isn’t an attack. This is…” How could he explain it? Murmurs and absent thoughts whispered in his head. The hairs on his arm stood up, and he trembled. Power shivered down his spine. He moved to the vid screen and studied the shapes and scraps of metal and circuits and wires which floated around them. They were ships. Dozens of ships, their components singed and tortured, twisted hunks of metal that gently bumped the Star Stream’s hull. They spoke to him. It was them. It had to be. “I’m hearing someone else’s thoughts.” No. That wasn’t right. Not someone’s. Several different… beings.

Ren allowed Asher to guide him to Rowan’s chair while they waited for Rowan and the rest of the crew. He blinked sluggishly and walked with delicate steps, conscious of not much other than the heat of Asher’s grip on his body and the voices swelling in his head. Asher ran his fingers through Ren’s hair and gripped his hand as if he might float away.

“Look at all this debris,” Lucas said, sweeping his hand toward the view screen. “It surrounds the prison on three sides. No wonder it’s impenetrable.”

“We can get through,” Rowan said, stepping onto the bridge followed by Ollie and Penelope. She raised an eyebrow at Ren in her chair, but then stopped short, mouth dropping open. “Ren? What’s going on?”

Tongue thick in his mouth, Ren closed his eyes. “Do you hear them?”

“Uh oh,” Pen said softly.

“Is he going glowy?” Darby asked, inching away. “Is that what’s happening?”

“Ash?”

“He looks like a ghost.”

“He’s not a ghost.”

Ren tilted his head. The voices were clearer now. They spoke to each other and they weren’t talking to him. Did they know he was there? Could they feel him? Could they recognize him for what he was?

Ren surged out into the debris field.

They saw him then.

Hello, there.

“Hello. Are you real?”

Of course. As real as you are.

“Are you like me?”

We are you.

“What is going on?” Asher shook him, and Ren’s body swayed. “Ren?”

With squinted blue glowing eyes, Ren turned to the group on the Star Stream. They watched him warily, and Darby appeared ready to bolt with her body angled toward the exit.

“They’re out there. Technopaths. Like me. In the debris. I can feel them.”

Asher’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “Are you serious?”

Why are you here?

“To rescue my brother.”

Asher kneeled in front of the chair and filled up Ren’s vision. “Don’t talk to them. We don’t know what they want.”

“My boyfriend says I shouldn’t talk to you.”

Why? Is he afraid of us? Many people are. But in this incarnation, we are hardly worthy of fear. We were vanquished and forced to live scattered in this debris.

“Wait. I don’t understand.” Ren slumped in the captain’s chair. “You’ve been here all this time?”

The rest of the crew exchanged glances. Rowan joined Asher. “Ren, we can’t hear them. Can you feed them through our comm system?”

Dipping farther into his star, Ren split his concentration between the voices emanating from the debris field and the systems of the Star Stream. He fed the sound through the sensors and into the comm system. It crackled to life, and the bridge filled with the sounds of noncorporeal beings. Their voices flooded the small metal space.

They talked over each other and they talked in unison. It was a cacophony of tones, low and high, slow and fast, bleeding into one synchronous and resonant voice echoing with the power of dozens.

“Holy stars,” Darby whispered. She moved closer to Ollie, Penelope, and Lucas. They all stared at the ceiling of the bridge. They should have looked out at the remnants of the ships and drifts which spread like asteroids and dust across the wide expanse of the cluster.

If Ren concentrated, he could pinpoint the faint glow of the ones that housed the voices which spoke to him. They pinged in his chest, reverberated through his flesh and bone, echoed the stuttered heartbeat in his chest. They were pure power, stardust incarnate, basic elements of life made sentient. They were his kin, more like him than any human.

Asher grasped one of Ren’s arms with both hands. Rowan took the other and held on. Ren saw their fingers wrapped around the sleeves of his shirt, saw their pale skin contrasting with the dark cloth, saw their nails dimpling the fabric. Were they scared? Were they afraid Ren would float away with the voices? That he’d become as incorporeal as they were? He’d done it once. He could do it again.

He didn’t want to do it again.

He didn’t want to leave Asher.

Ren placed his hand over Asher’s and eased his fingers over the straining tendons of Asher’s fingers. His skin was dry and cool against Asher’s clammy sweat.

“It’s okay.”

“Where did you go, little technopath? Are you still there?”

The crew jumped at the voice directed at Ren.

“I’m here. My friends can hear you now. I’m funneling you through our systems.”

“Very clever. Are they afraid?”

Darby nodded vigorously. Asher’s grip tightened, and his brow furrowed. Ren smoothed his fingers over the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“They are worried for me.”

“Ah, they should not be. We are no danger to you. We can sense you are powerful. Not many can feel us in the expanse of space. Others have recently passed by and did not sense our presence.”

Ren’s blood ran cold. Did they mean Millicent?

“Who are you?” Asher’s voice ran out strong and clear.

“We are the losers. We are the victorious. We are the immortal. We are the perilous.”

Rowan slowly released Ren. Her fingers left creases in the fabric of his shirt. She tossed her braid over her shoulder, and Ren saw the second her fear subsided and turned into annoyance. “That’s not who you are. That’s a bunch of ominous titles which mean dust. We don’t deal with frauds and tricksters.”

The laugh that boomed over the comms was in a lower register than the other voices. The equipment popped and sizzled under the strain, and Ren ran to repair the imminent overload.

“We’re the remnants of the army that lost to the Phoenix Corps.”

“How is that possible? You were destroyed.”

“Obviously not. We have been here, existing in the debris. Your friend understands.”

Ren did. He’d lived in the systems and circuits for weeks. He’d lived as star and electricity and constituent elements and atoms, haunting the relays from the cargo bay to the bridge, watching as his body slowly healed. He had lived as energy and sparks and power. When he’d entered his body again, bound by muscle and skin and bone, he’d found it clumsy and inelegant. Is that how they saw him?

“I do. I understand.”

Asher leaned as close as possible to Ren. “You’ve been orbiting the prison for years. Can you help us?”

“We stay out of the affairs of humans.”

“It’s my affair,” Ren said quickly. “My brother—he can walk in dreams—is trapped in there. There are others too. A man who can compel and a woman who has visions of the future.”

The voices scoffed. “They are no friends of ours. They abandoned us when it came to fight. They left us alone to fend off the humans who would see us destroyed.”

“They left you?”

“When the war brewed, our kind was targeted as the threat due to our power. To control technology and energy is to control information and systems. The fledgling drifts were terrified of falling under our control. At first, they tried to cast us out. Then they tried to shut us away in their walls. And when we fled, they followed. We had no choice but to fight. The others hid.”

“But you were dangerous,” Asher said. “You lost your humanity. Is that true? That you lost your balance between power and blood?”

Another huff. “History is written by the winners. But it is not wrong. We gave in to our power and forgot ourselves. Our physical forms became worthless to us.”

Ren shuddered, remembering the times when he’d walked a dangerous line in his own balance. Millicent had almost forced him away from his own humanity. And sometimes he’d given in gladly: on Erden when Zag had threatened his friends, and on the ship at the siege on Mykonos. Ren was lucky he had Asher to ground him or he would’ve given in and become like the remnants floating in space around them. Ren clenched his fists. “And you were destroyed?”

“The Corps could not destroy us. They were nothing but flesh caged in ships when we were energy caged in flesh.”

“Then what happened?”

A shrill laugh broke over the comm system. Darby clapped her hands over her ears. Penelope flinched, and Lucas stood abruptly and stepped away from his console.

“We self-destructed. Our vessels were worthless, and they’d never let us be.”

“That makes no sense,” Asher said, expression livid, cheeks red. “You died, and for what? To live as memorials to a rebellion? You accomplished nothing!”

The comm crackled. The vid screen lit up with static. The hull shook and clanged. Objects thumped against the airlocks. Warning claxons blared, and the red emergency lights flashed.

Ren flooded the systems and pushed them back. Blue tendrils gathered in the corners of the ship. A swell of power and electricity rushed through the wires and systems as he chased out the would-be intruders. He flung them away, his rage at their invasion and their presumption was a palpable thing.

“Stay out of my ship!” His voice thundered outward. It shuddered through the comm system and into the cluster of debris, shook through their circuits, and bounced from one metal hunk to the next.

After a long silence, Darby cleared her throat. “Are they gone?”

Ren restored the systems on the ship to normal, but he hadn’t chased the others away. They hovered nearby. “No,” he said, eyes blazing. “They’re regrouping.” He settled his gaze on Asher. “You insulted them.”

“They deserve to be insulted.”

“That’s the Corps talking. Not you. I don’t blame them for their actions. If what they say is true, then they were as stuck as we are. Not able to rest. Not able to hide. Not able to just be. They chose their way out.”

“Is that what you’ll choose, then? If there is no rest for us after this?”

Ren was split between his body and his star. He felt the energy racing through the circuits and felt his blood race through his veins as his pulse quickened. He took Asher’s hand.

“No. I’ve chosen you.”

The voices edged back into the comm system, and Ren allowed it.

“You are too powerful, little technopath.”

“My name is Ren.”

“We will not help you, Ren. We owe nothing to you or to those in the prison. And you side with the wrong individuals.”

“And you’ll leave them to their fate? You’ll do the same to them as they did to you? You were forced to abandon your humanity. That must have been a terrible decision to make. But I won’t do that.” It wasn’t wise for Ren to challenge them, as it wasn’t wise for Ren to allow them into the Star Stream. But the crew had come so far, he wouldn’t allow these beings to stand in their way.

“We do not meddle. The Corps meddles. We are not the same.”

“Then get out of our way.” Ren burst outward, cleared a path through the field, and tossed the debris to the farthest bounds of the orbit.

“Feisty,” the deepest voice said. “You are determined. We have not met one like us in so long. It’s only been us and we’ve forgotten our flesh and the bonds of our mortal coils.”

Asher’s throat bobbed. “You’ll help us?”

After a long silence several voices spoke in a merged statement. “We’ll assist you with moving close to the prison. We’ll act as your camouflage, but we will not assist you with the prison itself.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Rowan muttered.

“That’s a generous offer,” Ren said. “We accept your assistance.”

“The dock for the prison is along the back as you approach, with the deepest piece of the debris field surrounding it. We can guide you through and hide you from their sensors.”

“We’ll go slow,” Lucas offered, sitting back in his chair and punching in the coordinates. “Thank you.”

“Good luck, Ren and humans.”

Ren nodded. “Thank you.”

There was a flicker of static in the comm, then they were gone.

* * *

With large pieces of debris hovering near the hull, the Star Stream crawled toward the prison. It would take hours.

Ren wandered to the cargo bay. He folded down next to the aft airlock and pressed his fingers along the seal. There were many systems in place to keep the seal from breaking and causing a loss of pressurization. Opening the ship to the vacuum of space would be disastrous for the structural integrity and for the crew. But would it be for Ren? Would he be like those that surrounded him? Could he die? Or would his body turn to dust and his energy remain, trapped in wires? Was his star his soul? Or was it separate?

When Millicent was on board, she’d tried to teach him to meditate, and he echoed her pose now. He breathed in past the knot of panic in his middle, and breathed out against the tension in his muscles. He sank into his body and released a stream of star. It rushed outward, finding the path of least resistance, and with that, Ren was out in the debris.

I’d like to talk, he said, hoping they heard him. I want to know more about what we are. How to control what I am. What else I can do.

They echoed. We don’t have much time to teach you.

Please. Anything.

A whispered conversation happened between several of the glowing pieces.

What do you need to know to help you in your foolish quest?

Ren swallowed. Gathering his memories of Millicent and the way she manipulated him, hurt him, he sent those thoughts and feelings into the ether, converted them into electrical impulses, willed them to feel how he felt. How do I stop her?

You wish to harm one of our kind?

I wish to stop her from hurting anyone else.

Another rapid conversation and then a new voice, old and scratchy, like the sound of his stepfather’s music player scratching over the antique vinyls he coveted.

She is a technopath, but she has secondary powers, just as you do. She can push and pull like the moon on a tide, or like the fluctuating gravity on an orbit. You haven’t discovered your secondary power, though you’ve used it without knowing.

Ren steeled himself. What is mine?

Can’t you feel it? She may be able to influence you, but you can overwhelm.

That’s a function of my power?

Yes. Wield it. Think of how you pushed us out. How you swarmed into us and blackened our coils and wires. You are powerful, and you burned us.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only wanted you out.

Focus on what you want, on what you’ve lost. Focus on your grief and your anger and your turmoil. Focus on your love and your happiness and your ambition. Those are your strongest emotions; use them to scorch.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

You are a supernova. You will collapse.

Ren froze. A supernova. He read about when massive stars died, how they would collapse into their cores, then explode outward. Their blasts were so powerful they would send their elements into space, seeding the universe for a new generation of stars. That was the myth of the star hosts, how they gained their power from the stardust that drifted until finding its way into the bodies of their hosts and imbuing them with power.

If I can overwhelm her, if I can burn her out, will I die?

There was no answer. Ren didn’t expect one.

11

Perilous Space prison didn’t look like a drift. It wasn’t a stack of levels that spun gracefully in the vacuum of space creating its own gravity. Absent were the large viewing windows or the different-colored lights along the floors. No cheery welcoming message repeated from the communications tower with docking instructions and mentions of drift-specific sites to see or stores to visit. Instead, it sat as a square block, stark and intimidating, which didn’t look as though it belonged floating in space at all. Ren pegged the architecture as something he would’ve found on a planet, squat and cube-shaped and ugly, positioned in the middle of a field encompassed by a high fence. The only light came from a beacon on top of a spindle at the very center. It sat perfectly still in the middle of a large sea of broken parts, and broken ships, and broken dreams.

“That is the weirdest thing floating I’ve ever seen.” Darby leaned close to the view screen and squinted. “Is it real?”

“Yeah, it’s real.” Asher sidled close to Ren’s side. “Ren?”

The room Liam had shown them fit right into the overall look. It was a prison after all. Ren hoped his brother was still there and this wasn’t a snipe hunt. He needed it to be real. This was his only shot. He couldn’t ask Rowan to continue to put everyone at risk, especially with the stakes as high as they were.

Reluctant to reach out, Ren scrunched his features and closed his eyes. The low hum of despair vibrated in the depths of Ren’s veins along with the bare minimum of systems needed to keep the occupants alive—air and gravity. A large weapons system singed the outside of Ren’s consciousness, and he recoiled from the power it drew from the generators, draining and straining the grid even at rest. He’d hate to feel the weapons when they were engaged, and the thought made him shudder. It would destroy the ship with one shot, and Ren wasn’t certain he could stop it.

“See if you can check the validity of the information from the voices. Scan for the docking bay.”

Ren surged outward using the Star Stream’s sensors. He felt the brush of the other beings as they hovered close and cloaked the ship in debris. No external communications pinged his senses. The docking bay was tiny and hidden around the back of the structure, where it faced the ring of junk, which floated on three sides, caught in the small gravitational pull.

“Found it.”

You’re doing well. Keep going. You’re on the right trajectory.

Ren nodded. “They say we’re on track.”

“Good,” Rowan said from her captain’s chair. “Thank them for us.”

Thank you.

The ship moved through the debris, and the group of technopaths moved the large pieces out of their way and otherwise kept close to the hull, acting as a shield. The Star Stream moved achingly slow to avoid attention.

It wasn’t fast enough for Ren, and his anxiety welled within him and made his skin crawl. Even Asher’s hands on him, grounding him to the present, didn’t keep his stomach from twisting and his body breaking out in acrid sweat. He clenched his eyes shut and focused on his job.

Lucas piloted. Asher and Ollie scanned the sensors and comms. Darby and Penelope readied for the physical assault and liberation of the prison. Ren scanned for blueprints.

“I have a map,” he said.

“Can you cast it on the screen.”

Ren nodded, and, with a flick of his wrist, the layout of the block appeared. It was straightforward, with few twists and turns. Each floor had the same basic layout of hallways, except the lowest, which was the docking platform, and the top, which appeared to have larger rooms—maybe offices? Or labs for the experiments Liam had talked about? The four layers in between just small rooms next to each other with single exits into a large hallway.

Liam was in one of those rooms.

Ren was sure of it.

“This looks straightforward enough,” Asher said, flipping through the pages. “I only wish we knew what room Liam was in exactly. We’ll have to open the doors to them all and hope we find him.”

“Or he finds us,” Darby said. She moved from her spot by the outer vid screen to Asher’s console. She leaned over it and dragged her finger over the map. “If we could separate the guards from the prisoners, then we could have the prisoners all come down to the docking bay. Maybe trap the brass on the top floor?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Asher said. “We lure the officers to the top and have Ren shut them in. Then we open all the prison doors.”

“Two problems,” Rowan said. “One—we don’t know where the star host prisoners are versus the actual bad guys that are housed there for things other than a little pickpocketing. And two—Abiathar. He’ll have Ren or one of the others turn on us as soon as he can speak.”

“I’ll be fine as long as Ash is with me,” Ren ground out.

We’ll be with you as well. We’ll not allow a coercer to harm you.

“So we’ll go door-to-door. We’ll lock most of the guards on the top floor, enter through the dock, and then work our way through. Maybe Ren will be able to access records and get us the right door.”

“I don’t like the idea of you all being on there for a long time,” Penelope said. “The longer you stay, the higher the chances of being crunched.”

“And I don’t like the idea of docking there long either. Don’t forget we have disembodied voices that are helping us. Who knows where their allegiances lie and what they’ll do when they get a chance.” Lucas kept a tight grip on the piloting controls and his gaze on the screen, but he grimaced as he said the words. “Did they hear that?”

“No,” Ren said. “They’re locked out of systems right now. I put up a barrier.”

“Smart thinking.”

Rowan stood and came over. “That’s our plan, then? Ash, is there a Phoenix Corps code or signal that would get everyone to congregate in one place?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Asher nodded, face grim. “Yeah. There’s a few.”

“Great. We’re doing this.”

“We’re doing this,” Ash agreed.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Darby said, rubbing her hands together. Her dark eyes glittered. “This is the big one. The one all thieves and cons talk about and laugh that no one would be stupid enough to do.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t really meant to be.”

“Ren?” Asher asked. “Are you ready?”

Heart lodged in his throat and his body trembling from excitement and panic, Ren nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“We’re with you, Ren.”

We’re with you.

* * *

They left the bridge when there were only a few meters left of the approach. The debris had peeled from the ship and spread out toward the docking bay to cover their route.

We’ll stay as long as you need us.

Thank you.

Dressed in black, hood pulled up over his head and a pulse gun strapped to his side, Ren fidgeted as the others prepared. Darby took the offered pulse gun with a reverence Ren hadn’t seen her display for anything else. She slid it in an arm holster Rowan had tightened across her back. She also had over her shoulder a bag of tricks and gadgets that she and Ollie had developed. Ren hadn’t asked, but he would wager that included explosives. Darby did have an enthusiasm for blowing things up.

“Don’t use the pulse gun unless you absolutely have to.” Rowan patted Darby’s shoulder in a sisterly fashion. “Let Ren disable them first if he can. He’s good at it. Follow Asher’s and Ollie’s leads when it comes to shooting.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Ollie clipped his own guns at his hip and shoulder. “Don’t shoot if you can run.”

“We’ll be fine,” Asher said, tone flat, not at all reassuring. “If this goes right, we won’t run into anyone other than who we’re looking for. Search and rescue. Do not engage.”

Lucas’s voice came over the comm. “We’re five minutes out at this pace. Be safe out there. Come back to the ship as soon as you can, and we’ll blast out of here.”

Ren rolled his shoulders. “The star hosts in the debris are going to hover nearby until we’re ready to depart. And they’ll continue to cover us.”

“Okay, Ren, send the announcement.”

Ren took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He focused past the hull of the Star Stream, and reached out until he met the circuits of the prison. He trickled in and stopped abruptly. A large barrier loomed in front of him. It was a wall of static and code, built upon more static and lines and bricks of programming. He poked it tentatively, and electricity bloomed out in a webbed pattern encompassing the whole of the system. Unperturbed, Ren pushed slightly harder. It resisted, and the code thickened and spread farther and wider so that it was difficult for Ren to find a way around. It was a deterrent, a way to keep the technopaths housed at the prison from taking over.

Face scrunched, Ren pushed against the wall, and it repelled him, sent him scurrying back into his body. He gasped and took a step back and fell into Asher.

“It’s blocked.”

“What do you mean?” Asher asked, gripping Ren by the biceps. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but… it’s going to take me a minute. There’s a…. wall.”

Rowan arched an eyebrow. “A wall? Of what?”

“Code and… I’m sure there are going to be traps and snares once I get through that. I… should’ve known. It’s meant to hold star hosts and that means technopaths too.”

Rowan and Asher exchanged a glance. “We should pull back,” Asher said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No! I’ve got it.” I need help.

What’s wrong, little one?

There’s a wall and traps. I might not be able to get through.

Burn, Ren. Burn as we showed you. Focus on your strongest emotions and overwhelm.

“Ren?” Asher’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck. His thumb ran over the straining tendon. “What’s the plan?”

“One more try. That’s all I need.”

“Hurry. We don’t have much time to sit out here.”

Ren dove back into Perilous Space. He encountered the wall and stopped. Gathering his power in his chest, he concentrated on his fear, and his hope, and his desire for peace. His power welled within him, and he burned.

He’d always associated his power with blue. His vision would go blue. His eyes, he was told, would glow blue. The sparks and webs of electricity would tangle in blue lines and drip like water from his body in blue drops. The hottest stars radiated blue, but he already bathed in blue. As he drew power to him, coaxed energy from the generators and from his core, he burned darkly.

Blue deepened to violet, then black consumed him and wrapped around his virtual self. His back arched, and his fists clenched. Ren pushed through the barrier, and it burst in a shower of sparkles of red and orange and purple like fireworks booming against the darkness of the sky. Ren broke through the barrier; code scattered like leaves on the wind. He raced into the wires, scorched out of snares and traps, and left a trail of shadow behind him.

He sorted through the active systems. Information pounded at him from all sides, and tricks and catches awaited him. There were codes and blocks to sweep aside and break through. He slid into the communication system and found the mechanisms he needed. Using the prison’s normal computer alarm system, Ren sent claxons blaring and bathed the prison is flashing red lights.

“Forcefield failure. Imminent pressure loss. All personnel seek emergency shelter on level five.”

Pleased, Ren set the message on repeat, then returned, retreating in waves. He checked the vid feeds. Corps guards and officers headed to the top floor scrambling for the lifts and stairs.

Secure in his body, he grinned at the others. His vision was shadowed. “Message delivered. Everyone is fleeing from the imminent forcefield failure.”

“You are entirely too pleased with yourself,” Darby said. She knocked his shoulder. “I like it.”

“Did you hear that, Lucas? The dock should be deserted. Take us in.”

“I hear you, and we are almost there. Okay, Ren, can you get that forcefield down?”

Ren checked the security cameras and confirmed that the dock was deserted. He sensed the field at the forefront of his star sense. He powered it down, and Lucas slid the ship into the empty slip with precision. As soon as they passed the threshold, Ren flipped the field back on.

“Pressurization achieved. Good luck.”

Asher nodded to the group. “Let’s go. Darby, stay behind Rowan and Ollie. Ren, you’re with me. Liam is priority. Anyone else is a bonus. Understood?”

They nodded. “Good. Anything weird, head back to the ship.”

Asher yanked the door open. They slid out, one by one. Asher, Ollie, and Rowan had their weapons drawn and ready. “This way.” Asher gestured, following the blueprint Ren had downloaded.

Ren’s message bleated overhead. He resisted the urge to silence it because that would be suspicious. He tugged his hood closer, though the fabric did nothing to block the noise.

“How’s it looking?”

Ren checked the feeds. Everyone had evacuated to the top floor. There were several people in a single, large room. “They’re all on the top floor. All of them.”

“Are they locked in?”

Ren cocked his head. “No. There is something going on. Other than us. They… they have someone up there. They have… someone important.”

“Millicent?”

Ren shook his head. “No.” Peering through the security channels, Ren saw the familiar form of the man who left him to bleed on Crei. He saw the man who had taunted him in a hologram in the citadel. He saw the man responsible for setting all the wheels in motion. “They have Vos.”

“Vos? That’s why VanMeerten was so smug. She thought she had the leader.”

Ollie shouldered close. “What’s the plan now?”

“The same. Find Liam. We can leave Vos to rot. Ren.”

Ren snapped his head toward Asher, his vision no longer blue but a mixture of shadow and light. “Yes?”

“Lock them in.”

Ren flashed like a crack of lightning from the sky and sizzled through the circuits. Finding the locks, he took satisfaction in engaging them all. The doors that were open swung closed, and the bolts slid home. He singed the relays and the protectors. No one would be able to undo what he’d done, unless they were a technopath.

“Done,” Ren said, his voice monotone.

“Ren? What’s a man who knows everything but admits he knows nothing?”

“A paradox,” Ren answered. “Don’t worry, Ash. I’m here.”

“Your eyes are black. But you’re right. I’ll be worried later. Where’s Liam?”

Ren was searching through the information, sorting through files, looking for his brother’s name or his power. He flipped through code and tossed lines aside, until only notes on Liam and his missions remained. While looking for his location, Ren sent the pertinent information to the Star Stream through the tenuous connection the ship shared with the prison.

“We need to go up. Second floor, third door on the left. Nadie is next to him. Abiathar is down the hall. There are others as well. Several others. I can’t open the doors. They’re not on the system. They’re not electronic locks.”

Asher placed his hand on Ren’s arm. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. But we need to hurry.” Asher ushered them to the stairs. “Do you have the comms?”

Ren nodded. He held out his palm, and energy dripped from the whirlpool of power in his hand. “Right here.”

Asher inched closer; his breath seared the skin of Ren’s fingers. “You’re hot and scary at the same time. We’ll talk more about this later.”

Ren blushed and shrugged. Taking control of the communications, he fed everything to the physical comms they all carried. They’d all be able to hear what was said through the prison’s communication system. Right now, the channel was silent.

Asher pushed open the door to the stairwell and, with pulse gun raised, he peeked around the frame. He waved them all in, and the door closed behind them, leaving them in relative darkness. Ren switched on the lights with a blink, keeping them dim. Crouching, Asher lead the group up the stairs. They didn’t meet another soul, and, on the first-floor landing, Asher paused.

“Ren, can you lock this door?”

Pushing past the webs of code that wanted to ensnare him, Ren engaged the automatic lock.

“Done.”

“Good.” Asher relaxed. “Darby and Rowan will stay here and guard our exit. With no one at the dock and with this door locked, the only attack will come from above. Stay on the comms, and let us know if you hear anything.”

Rowan swept her braid from her shoulder. “I’m not staying behind.”

“You’re not,” Asher agreed. “You’re protecting our exit. And you have Darby with you in case we need any kind of fancy explosion to aid in our escape.”

Darby rubbed her knuckles on her shirt. “You know me so well.”

“And if we get pinched, you can come save us,” Ollie said, with a sly smile.

“Fine,” Rowan said. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“You never are,” Asher muttered. He looked at Ollie and Ren. “Ready?”

The three of them crept up the second set of stairs. Ren kept one part of himself in the prison systems and the other alert in his body. Spread thin, he had less control over his anxiety, and his blood pounded. Panic crawled in his veins but did not take root, not yet. He remembered he needed to breathe, evenly and deeply, to keep everything under control, but his exhalations were staccato, as his concentration focused on not hitting a trap in the system.

“Second floor,” Asher whispered. “There will be a long hallway and then a cross corridor. Ollie, you’ll hide around that corner and protect our flank and our way back out.”

“Got it, Ash.”

“Ren, you’ll get Liam.”

Ren closed his eyes. Something was going on. Something… a warning pinged in his chest. The locks! Ren raced to the top floor but the locks he’d previously engaged were now encased in code. They were open.

“Ren?” Asher said forcefully. “Everything okay?”

Ren bit his tongue. “Yeah, but we need to hurry. Something is weird upstairs.”

Asher read the lie in Ren’s face, but didn’t call him out. He shook his head and frowning. Instead of pushing the door open slightly, Asher kicked it open with force. The door swung outward so hard it hit the inner wall.

Asher and Ollie jumped out, back-to-back, weapons raised. But there was no one. No exchange of fire. They moved silently, and Ren followed Asher down the corridor. Ollie broke off as Asher had instructed.

After a few feet, Ren counted one door. Then two. Then three—

“This one,” Ren said. “This one. This is it.” He peered through the small window blocked by a shaky forcefield but couldn’t see through the static with his human eyes. He pressed his palm flat next to the door and concentrated. He looked, but there was no electronic mechanism on the door, and, parsing through the circuits and systems, he could find no power source. He powered down the forcefield, but he couldn’t open the door. No, no, no! They were so close. His brother should be in there. Liam was in there.

He snapped back into his body. “Ash,” he said, his voice desperate, twisting Asher’s name into a plea. Excitement and panic made him tremble, and he touched the door. He tugged on the handle; his palm was slick with sweat, and his fingers trembled. “I can’t open it. I can’t.”

Asher waved to Ollie and kept his pulse gun raised as Ollie crossed from the last intersection to where they stood. Asher covered his movement.

“Ren, calm down. Ollie, it looks like the lock is manual.”

Ren had missed the obvious—a large metal bar sheathed in a metal container crossed the face of the door. Ollie studied it before grabbing a knob. He pulled, his muscles strained beneath his dark skin, and the bar screeched until it crossed the crease of the wall. Ren grabbed the handle, and they pulled the door open. It scraped across the floor, and Ren winced at the sound.

It slowly swung open, and, when the space was big enough, Ren slipped into the room.

A figure lay on the bed, unmoving, and Ren raced to the bunk. His shin smacked into the bed frame, and he shook the body’s shoulder. Oh, please. Oh, please. Oh, please.

Liam rolled to his back and blinked up, confused, his eyes blurry, and his forehead crinkled. “Ren?” he croaked. “Is this a dream?”

Ren smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. His heart pounded, and joy flashed through him; his eyes stung with tears. “Get up. This isn’t a dream.”

Liam shot up, and Ren jumped backward to keep from knocking their heads together. Liam swung his legs around. The white of the medical scrubs he wore washed out his complexion, and his eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep and worry, but he grinned when he staggered to his feet.

“Ren?” Ren caught him in a hug and held on. Liam sagged into his arms. “What are you doing here? What have you done?”

“No time to talk. We need to go.”

Ren swung Liam’s arm over his shoulder and grabbed his waist. They hobbled to the door, and Ren peeked around the frame.

Ollie and Asher waited, scanning the hallway, weapons up and ready.

“Got him?” Asher asked, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Ren beamed. “Yes. Yes, I have him.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Liam rasped. “Wait, there are others. There are others here, and they’re going to move us or kill us. I’m not sure which but, please.”

“Sorry, kid, but we don’t have time.” Asher raised the comm to his mouth. “We’ve got Liam. How are you doing?”

Darby’s voice came back. “We’re clear, but we heard chatter on the comms that Vos is loose in the facility. He got away in the commotion.”

“Stars,” Asher cursed. “Is that what you hid in the stairwell?” he said, gaze cutting to Ren.

Ren shrugged. “I didn’t know he was loose. I did feel the doors open on the top floor.”

Asher clutched his gun and dipped his chin toward his comm. “Eyes open. We don’t want to run into him or anyone who is hunting him.”

“Gotcha, boss,” Darby said.

“Ren? What’s going on?” Liam rasped. He was heavy on Ren’s shoulder, and his weight threatened to pull Ren to the floor. But he wouldn’t let Ollie take Liam. They needed Ollie for protection, and Ren wasn’t going to give up. Not now. He hauled Liam closer.

“We’ve got to get out of here before we’re crunched by one of the Corps.”

“Like me?” The figure that stepped out from the cross section wore the Corps uniform and a smug smile. He stopped in the middle of the hallway to block their path to the docking bay.

“You,” Asher said, voice hard.

Corporeal Zag smirked. “Me.”

“How’d you get free?”

“Manual override,” Zag said, with a shrug. “This base is not technopath-friendly. And you may be navigating now, but I guarantee you’ll make a mistake. It’s a matter of time.”

Ren scoffed. “Stars. Figured we’d run into an utter cog,” Ren said. Liam hung on his arm like a limpet and squinted at Ren. Ren thrust his chin at Zag. “He killed me.”

Zag pressed a hand to his chest. “I didn’t kill you.” He reached for his hip, and Asher raised his weapon and trained it on Zag.

“Don’t.”

Zag stopped, smirk still firmly in place, and raised his hands. “The gun in my holster killed you.” His hand fluttered, and Asher moved forward, stepping between Ren and Zag. “You’re interrupting the reunion, Morgan. I’d love for another bullet to find its way to your friend. Maybe this time, he’ll stay dead.”

“Out of the way,” Asher said, gesturing with the tip of his gun. “Back the way you came and maybe focus on the real threat.”

Zag smiled. “You mean Vos, that duster playing leader? He may have escaped, but we’ll catch him again. Just as I’ve caught you.”

“You haven’t caught us yet. And I promise you,” Asher said, body trembling with rage, “you don’t want to catch me.”

Ren reached out but there were no weapons on Zag he could use. And the hallway was only equipped with cameras—no weapons for technopaths to turn on their captors.

“Is that a threat, Morgan?” He tapped his chin. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were doing grunt work on Bara? We’re taking that planet over, you know. The Corps is done with you foolish dusters coming up here to space and mucking up the drifts. It’s not just techies and star hosts we’re imprisoning now.”

“A police state. Nice. Except you won’t be able to police anything once you’re all vented.”

Zag laughed. He dipped his head and met Ren’s gaze. “You going to vent me?” He swaggered closer. “What will your little brother think about you killing soldiers on Erden? Or the ones on Bara? That was you, wasn’t it?”

Ren narrowed his eyes. The longer they stood there, the longer Zag stalled, the greater the threat of capture or worse. Liam was already weakening, his pressure on Ren’s body was becoming a dead weight that he wouldn’t be able to support.

“It’s not Ren you have to worry about.”

“Vos? That cog? He’s a duster cog. He’s not a threat to me.” Zag cocked his head and peered over Asher’s shoulder. “And neither are you, Ren. Is that your name? Take away the access to tech, and you’re a scared, little, village boy.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “This guy is a dick,” he said out loud. “Why are we listening to this? I don’t know you and I don’t like you.” Liam turned to Asher. “Shoot him.”

Asher didn’t hesitate. The first shot glanced off Zag’s knee, and he fell to a kneeling position. The second hit him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling on his back. Asher strode forward, bent down, and slipped the gun from the holster on Zag’s hip. He pocketed it and kicked Zag’s injured leg. He hissed, eyelids fluttering, hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

Asher leaned close to Zag’s face. “Don’t interfere again. Next time, I won’t miss.” Asher stepped on the burn and the smoking fabric on Zag’s knee. “Understand?”

Zag grunted and squirmed on the floor. “I get it,” he gritted out.

“Good.” He grabbed Zag’s hair and slammed his head onto the hard floor. Zag’s body went limp.

“Your boyfriend is awesome,” Liam said, with a wide grin. “I like him.”

“You’re entirely too snarky for someone who has spent the past year locked in a maximum-security facility,” Ren said. “Let’s go before anything else happens.”

“My brother can do anything,” Liam said with a smile. “And so can his boyfriend. And you.” He looked at Ollie. “You look awesome and intimidating. I bet you can do anything you want as well.” Liam listed to the side, and Ren staggered. “I’m happy!”

“I think you’re loopy,” Ren grunted. “Are you… are you drugged?”

Asher grabbed Liam’s other side. “Let’s get out of here.”

“The others!” Liam insisted. “We can’t leave them.”

Asher furrowed his brow.

“Ren! We can’t leave them. They drugged us all.”

“To make you easier to move,” Asher said. “Okay, we’ll figure something out. Ren? Any ideas?”

They staggered toward the stairwell door. “One.” On the other side with the door closed behind them, Ren pushed Liam over to Ollie. “I have one idea,” Ren said then dove into the circuits and found Vos on the vid feeds.

Vos hurried down a hallway, looking harried and pale, not the man Ren had known.

“You. Vos,” Ren’s voice echoed over the comm in the hall, “go to the docks and wait for me there.”

Vos looked at the ceiling, eyes wide. “You,” he said. “You’re dead.”

“No, just a ghost. Hurry. You don’t have much time.”

Vos frowned, but nodded.

Ren retreated to his body and found Ollie, Asher, and Liam staring at him.

Asher leaned close. “What did you do?”

“Found us an ally.”

12

“What’s going on down here?” Asher sailed down the stairs. Ollie, Ren, and Liam followed like ducklings.

Rowan and Darby offered twin forced smiles. Darby held a smoke bomb. She and Rowan had their backs to the door, holding it closed as soldiers beat against the other side.

“Oh, you know,” Darby said, with gritted teeth, “holding the fort like you said. But they are right here, if you couldn’t tell. I thought you said the only attack would be from above.”

“I was obviously wrong,” Asher replied.

“That’s awesome, Ash. Really awesome.” As she spoke, the door heaved inward, and, in an acrobatic move, Darby jumped and spun and threw the bomb through the crack. Ollie, Rowan, and Asher threw their weight against the door. Smoke billowed in around the edges, but the pounding was replaced by the sounds of coughing and gagging.

Palm flat on the wall, Ren reached in and engaged the lock but, despite tying off the ends of the circuits and burning out the mechanisms, he couldn’t keep it held for long.

“There’s a manual override on the other side of the door.”

“Great.” Rowan pushed a stray hair away from her face with the back of her wrist. “Let’s go then.”

Darby eyed Liam with a squint. “Is this him? He doesn’t look like you. Maybe around the nose, but… no, not really. You look nothing alike.”

“Half-brothers,” Liam said with a goofy smile on his face. “I’m Liam.”

“I’m Darby.”

“And I’m out of here,” Rowan said. “There’s a regiment on the other side of this door and probably one down at the docks too. We have to go.”

“Vos is going to meet us there.”

Rowan stutter-stepped. “What?”

The door creaked and shuddered.

“No time. Let’s go,” Asher grabbed Ren’s bicep, and Ollie had Liam tucked close to his side. Stealth no longer an option, they thundered down the stairs and burst onto the docking bay. It was deserted, except for a lone figure waiting in a swath of light next to the aft airlock of the Star Stream.

“Vos,” Ren said.

He turned on his heel and gave Ren a wan smile. “You.”

“Me,” Ren agreed.

“Rumor was that you died.”

“I did, but I got better.”

Rowan and Asher had their weapons trained on him, but Ren could tell he was unarmed. His complexion was sallow, and his cheeks were sunken. His eyes were circled by dark rings, and his hair and beard were uncharacteristically unkempt.

“Space is treating you well.”

“Better than you did,” Ren said. “But enough, we don’t have time to reminisce.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Third floor,” Ren said. “I can’t open the doors. They’re manual. But on the third floor you’ll find your general, a seer, and a few others.”

Vos’s eyebrows ticked up. “And how am I going to get there?”

“With me.”

Asher protested, but Ren shook his head. “We have Liam. Get him on the ship with the others. You too, Ash.” Ren glowed, eyes darkening to black, his power flowing out of him in waves as he entered the prison and flooded the systems. “Vos and I will rescue them.”

“No,” Asher’s fingers around Ren’s wrist were iron. “This is a dumb idea. They are not worth your capture. And we cannot trust him.”

Vos spread open his hands. “I can’t do anything to your friend. His power eclipses any I’ve seen. I have no weapons. I have no idea how to navigate this place.”

“Ash—”

“Not without me.” Ash leveled Ren with a glare. “If you feel like we must rescue them, then fine. But we promised each other to stay together. We’re staying together.”

Ren softened. They had promised, and Ren wouldn’t break it, not after Crei, not after Bara. “Fine, but we have to hurry,” Ren said, surging through the systems, and camera feeds. “There are guards swarming down from the top level and coming around to flank us.”

“Get on the ship,” Asher told the others. “If you need to leave, then go. We’ll follow.”

“And where will you run?” Vos asked, walking forward. “Where will you and your crew go? Now that you have his brother? There’s nowhere safe for you, except with me.”

“This guy sounds like the other guy,” Liam said, holding onto Ollie. “Shoot him, too.”

Asher raised his gun, but Ren stayed his hand. “What we do after this is of no concern to you. But for right now, we have similar goals.”

Vos smiled, and it was more like an animal’s show of teeth than a gesture meant to endear him to them.

“Stars, you’re disgusting,” Rowan said, making a face. “Come on,” she said to Ollie and Darby, then she wagged her finger at Asher as she pulled Darby along. “Don’t do anything stupid. Be back here as quick as you can.”

Asher allowed a small smile. “Have Pen look at Liam!”

Darby mock-saluted and the four of them raced to the ship. Ren was surprised at their quick acquiescence of him and Asher staying behind with Vos of all people, but they understood what Ren needed to do. They understood that, in good conscience, Ren couldn’t leave other prisoners behind.

“We’ll use a lift,” Asher said. “It’s a quick way up, and Ren can control it. Right?”

“Yes.” With his concentration split, Ren rerouted his power to the lifts and found the nearest. Except, in his rush, he missed the trap laid for him in the code. It snared him, like a rabbit rope around his foot, and he stuck fast amid a tangle of circuits and a rush of encryption. His physical body stiffened, and he fell to his knees, palms on the deck. He tried to pull out, but the virus leeched into him, began to smother him with code, locked him behind rapidly building virtual bars.

“Ren?” Asher was by his side, his hand on Ren’s shoulder, but it was far away, secondary to the trap squeezing tighter and tighter around him. “What’s wrong?”

“Stuck,” he forced out. “Trap.”

“What do you need?”

Ren shuddered. The more he fought, the tighter the snare wrapped around him, squeezing his electric self. He couldn’t hold awareness in both domains, and there was no way for him to pull out of the prison and back into his body. With gritted teeth and fingers curled against the deck, Ren let go, and trusted Asher to protect him. He left his body behind and focused entirely on his technopathic self.

From the video feeds, he saw his body on the deck squirming and thrashing and Asher hovering over him, holding him, but he couldn’t stay long. He had to free himself, had to untangle from the snare wrapping tighter around him, trying to snuff him out.

He fought, but with every piece of code he unfurled or peeled away, two more took its place. He was trapped, as Zag had warned. Trapped in more ways than one in the prison built to hold people like him. They’d have to leave him behind. Asher could drag his physical body to the ship, but his other self would be stuck.

Help!

Ren thrust the plea out into the universe.

Help! Help! Please!

He had seconds left. The cell walls stacked higher and thicker, and Ren was almost completely covered. He had nowhere to run. He lost access to all the systems including the cameras. The chains and strings of code wrapped tighter and tighter around him, crushing him. And Asher ran out of time as well. Those guards would be descending on the dock in minutes. Asher was left alone with Ren incapacitated and Vos right there. He had to get out. He had to get out. He couldn’t get out.

Panicking, Ren struggled to do what the others had told him. He was a supernova. He could explode. He could overwhelm. He had to. He had to. He had to. Focus. Focus! Hold on to the anger. Hold on to the hope. Hold on to the love. He thought about Liam and the joy he felt seeing his brother again. He thought about Asher and his faith and determination. He thought about the crew and how they’d folded him into their family and accepted Darby the way she was. He thought about Jakob and Sorcha and their resilience and how he ached to see them again. He tapped it into it all, the power of his star, the power of his humanity. He gathered it in, collapsed inward, and he expanded and pushed and struggled against the wires holding him captive.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

We’re here!

Ren felt them in the system. He had no idea how they’d gotten in, no clue how they had left their debris, unless they had butted against the prison itself. But they were there. The other star hosts. Four of them, pinging against his senses.

Help!

They swarmed him, broke down the trap, ripped away the barriers, and Ren could metaphorically breathe again. When the last piece snapped away, Ren ran; the others followed.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

You’re welcome. Get out of here.

The weapons system. The guards have escaped. They can access it. They’ll blast us out of the sky.

We have it. We’ll disable it. Go quickly!

What about you?

We’re fine. The guards are almost there. You must go, Ren. Run!

Body arching on the deck, Ren gasped and slotted into his body. He grabbed Asher’s wrist; Asher’s hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt. Eyes open, legs twitching, he gulped in a lungful of air.

“Run. Out of time.”

Asher’s gaze flicked away, and Ren followed it to see Vos standing there, face pale. Asher unholstered his pulse gun and slid it across the floor to a far corner of the deck.

“You’re on your own. Good luck.”

With a strength that surprised him, Asher hauled Ren to his feet and threw him over his shoulder. Vos ran for the gun, and Asher, yelling into his comm as he went, ran for the ship. The aft airlock swung open. Ollie waited on the other side. Asher’s strides ate up the expansive distance. Ren’s body jostled with each step.

With a few meters left, the door to the docking bay flew inward with the force of an explosion, sparks and metal skittered across the deck surface, and Ren’s senses pinged with a barrage of weapons. Ren raised his hand, and, despite the weakness he felt in his own power, he locked on to the weapon signatures. He twisted and yanked and cut the power supplies to all the tech.

And then Ren was tossed into the Star Stream.

“Go! Go!” Darby yelled into the comm to Lucas. “We got them!”

Ollie closed the airlock and ensured the seal, just as ship left the ground.

“Ren! Can you get that forcefield?” Lucas called over the comm, his panic evident in the crackle and the static.

We have it. Go!

“The others have it,” Ren rasped, from his prone position on the deck.

Ren felt the tingle in his body when the field powered down. The ship rocketed out of the docking bay, leaving the prison behind. Ren pushed to his feet and ignored the calls of Asher, Ollie, and Darby. Stumbling along the way, he pulled himself to the bridge with Asher on his heels. He lurched onto the bridge, knocked his head since he forgot to duck at the top of the stairs, and hurried to the vid screen.

“We’re not being followed,” Rowan said, from her captain’s chair. “Other than by a few pieces of debris.”

Ren flicked his wrist, and the sensors showed four large pieces of debris right next to the hull. He reached out and found the weapons system dark.

Are you okay?

We’re fine. Are you?

Ren smiled ruefully. Maybe.

Did you save him?

Now that they were back in the belt of wreckage, Ren allowed his body to relax. He breathed and rolled his shoulders. Liam was in the common room with Penelope looking him over. Lucas piloted them away.

We did.

Congratulations.

What will you do now? Ren asked.

We’ll protect you until you move on.

What about beyond that? Will you always be here?

We will exist, until we dissipate and float away in the blackness of space with hopes to reform into a new star or planet or new being.

Thank you. Thank you. We wouldn’t have been able to free him without you.

You’re welcome, little one. And what will you do, Ren? You’ve found your brother. You have escaped.

Ren sucked in a breath. I’m going to stop her.

We do not wish harm on another of us, but we understand your conviction. Be careful, Ren. You are stardust. You are part of the universe, and the universe exists within you. And while your constituent atoms are immortal, you are not.

I wish you well.

“Are they talking to you?”

“Yes,” Ren said. “They saved me.”

“What happened?” Asher tentatively lay a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Was it a trap?”

Ren patted Asher’s hand. “Yes. I tripped something, and I couldn’t… couldn’t leave the prison systems. It was like… it was like a chain wrapped around me and squeezed while a cell was built to close me in.”

Asher moved closer to Ren’s back and dipped his head; his breath was hot on Ren’s neck. “Are you all right?”

“I think so. I feel… shaky.”

“Well, I don’t think we need you right now,” Lucas said, navigating the debris. “We’re going to hide in here and, with your friends around, we should be okay until you’re ready to transport us where we are going next.”

“Once we figure that out,” Rowan said, ruefully. “Vos was not wrong. With Millicent knocking off drifts one by one and the planets crawling with Corps, we don’t have many options.”

“We’ll think of something,” Asher said. “Keep an eye out for anything coming out of that prison. Vos didn’t have great odds but he’s slippery.”

“Lucas and I have it. Go say hi to your brother, Ren.” Rowan smiled. “You have him back. Enjoy it.”

The truth of that slammed into Ren, and he smiled in return; his eyes crinkled. “I do.”

Asher’s hand tightened on Ren’s shoulder, and Ren couldn’t help but kiss Asher’s echoed grin.

* * *

Ren walked into the common area and found Liam sitting on the couch with Penelope looking him over. She took his temperature while he drank a glass of water.

Liam.

Liam was here.

Ren’s throat closed up. The last time he’d seen his brother had been at the lake, after a stupid playfight where they had rolled around on the sand, and Ren had talked about leaving their home for a place among the stars. They were there now, but at what cost? What had Ren lost to achieve his dream? And what kind of dream was it? It certainly wasn’t the one he’d hoped for all those years living in the dirt and wishing for stardust.

Liam didn’t look well, but he’d been imprisoned for almost a year. Was it a year? Over a year? Ren had lost track of time. Between planets, and drifts, and space, and death, Ren didn’t even know what season it was on Erden now. Had he had a birthday? Had Liam? Ren rubbed a hand over his face.

Liam wore medical scrubs, and the dark circles beneath his eyes stood stark in his pale face. His red hair had turned more blond, and his skin, which used to be covered in dark freckles from the sun, had evened out to a waxy complexion. But he was there. In the flesh. Not in a dream. And Ren’s mission was complete. He had Asher. He had Liam. He had Penelope and Ollie and Lucas and Rowan and now Darby as well. But there was one last missing piece—a safe place to land. Vos was right—where could they go?

Liam caught him staring, and a smile broke out over his wan features. “Hey there, big brother? Are you going to keep staring or come over here and save me from beautiful women poking me with instruments?”

Penelope laughed and swatted Liam’s arm. “Asher’s orders to make sure you’re okay. Other than a little malnutrition and sleep deprivation, you appear to be in good health. The drug should be working its way out of your system, but you might feel a little… off for a few hours.” Penelope smirked at Ren. “Sound familiar?”

Liam’s eyebrows raised.

Ren shoved his hands in his pockets. “I went through a few months where I kind of… well… I wasn’t well. I didn’t sleep much and kind of… lost myself in my power.” Ren shrugged. “I’m better now.”

“Really? You didn’t just have a seizure on the deck of a prison drift?”

“That was an anomaly. A trap. I’m okay.”

“Liar,” Liam said, smiling easily. “But keep your secrets. I’m just glad to be out of there.”

“Me too. I’m glad you’re safe.”

Penelope packed up her equipment and touched Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll make you a sandwich or soup, if you want to eat?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Penelope smiled gently and excused herself to the kitchen area.

Liam crossed the small space between them, staggering every few steps, then threw his arms around Ren’s shoulders. Ren grabbed him tight and held on. Liam had had a growth spurt since the last time he’d seen him, and he was the same height as Ren, maybe a tiny bit taller, not that Ren would ever admit it.

“I can’t believe you’ve become such a badass,” Liam said, laughing. “And you have scary-competent friends. And your boyfriend shot a guy for taunting you.”

Ren laughed. “The company I keep, right?”

Liam pulled away, and his green eyes twinkled. “You got what you wanted. You found your place in space. You’re stardust. It’s everything you used to talk about. How are you not bouncing around like a bunny?”

Ren’s smiled faded. “It’s not that simple, Liam. There’s so much going on, and so much has happened and…” he trailed off. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re free. We’re together. That’s what I’ve been striving for since that day at the lake when we were separated.”

Liam took a deep breath. “I know we can’t go home right away, but I really want to be back on solid ground.”

Ren rubbed the back of his head. His hair stuck up. “We can’t go right now. Maybe when it’s all said and done.”

“I look forward to it. Until then, can I eat and maybe meet the rest of the people on this ship? I feel like they’re all standing right on the other side of that door.”

There was a cough, and Darby stumbled in. Asher was right behind her.

Seeing their caught-out expressions, Ren laughed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and threw his head back and laughed.

Asher chuckled. “We’ve met,” he said.

Liam waved him off. “I know you. You make my brother happy.”

“I try.”

Asher crossed the room and caught Ren in a hug. He spun him around, and they landed on the couch. Ren’s laughter echoed in the common room. He didn’t know if it was relief from escaping the prison or finally finding his brother, but Ren was giddy. He cupped Asher’s face and kissed him, hard, lips smacking. Asher tightened his arms around Ren’s waist.

“Get a room,” Darby called. Ren felt a cushion hit his back.

He broke away and made a face.

“We have a room,” Ren said. Asher tipped him to the side, and he fell from where he had perched precariously on Asher’s lap. Asher caught him before he slipped all the way to the floor and hauled him back to the cushions.

Settling on the couch, Ren sat close to Asher’s side and tangled their legs together. His head rested comfortably on Asher’s shoulder.

“I’m Darby,” she said to Liam, shaking his hand. “I tried to steal the ship from your brother, but he did his…” She wiggled her fingers. “…thing on me and I ran away. Scared the stardust right out of me.”

A knife in her hand, Pen waved from her place by the counter. “I’m Penelope. Some call me Pen, but it sounds like Ren, and that can get confusing. I’ll answer to either. And that big man is my brother, Ollie.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Well, that is unfair. I guess that means I get to tell stories about Ren while I’m here.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Liam rubbed his hands together gleefully. Ren buried his face in Asher’s chest.

“Well, there was this one girl named Ezzy who adored Ren and followed him around…”

Ren groaned. “Please, stop.”

“He was so oblivious! He had no idea.” Liam grinned.

Liam gratefully accepted the bowl of vegetable soup and a plate of meat-spread sandwiches and plopped down at the table. He shoved one in his mouth, and Ren was happy for the quiet.

“We met her,” Asher said. “She fawned over Ren with big, moon eyes.”

“Not you too,” Ren said, hiding his face in his hands. “She did not.”

“Oh, come on,” Darby said, settling next to Liam and elbowing him in the side. She stole a half a sandwich. “You have to have better stories than that. Granted the only planet I’ve been on was Bara, and that teemed with weird animals the likes of which I’ve only seen in exhibits. But I guess that your home planet was about the same. Right?”

Liam snorted. “Hardly. There were fish in the lake. Some of them were weird, like the eels. And there was a bear that liked to sleep on our back porch in the spring.”

“Boring,” Darby said, drawing out the vowels. “Tell us something else.”

The conversation droned on, each of them sharing stories, and Ren smiled, content to listen and to rest on Asher’s chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was a comfort in Ren’s ear.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Ren said. He touched his forehead, where he had a small purpling bruise from hitting his head on the way to the bridge. “Except this.”

Asher chuckled low, the sound of it tingling in Ren’s ear. “How long have you been on this ship? You know you have to duck.”

“Not long enough apparently,” Ren grinned lazily.

Asher’s arm tightened around Ren’s waist and pulled him closer.

The sound of the crew’s voices ebbed and flowed as Ren reveled in the warmth of Asher’s embrace. He melted into it and didn’t care when Ollie teased them or when Liam cast him knowing glances. And for the hour that they gathered with Ren’s brother and his boyfriend and the rest of his family, he didn’t have a care. He was happy and he was grateful the universe allowed him to have that moment of peace.

* * *

Trouble.

Ren stirred from his relaxed posture on Asher’s chest. “What?”

“What?” Asher echoed.

They’re coming. You need to run.

Who’s coming?

Phoenix Corps. Leaving the prison.

“Hey, guys! A few ships just rocketed out of the prison dock. And they’re heading right into the debris field,” Lucas’s voice crackled over the comm.

Ren shot up and abandoned his place at Asher’s side. He ran from the common room, leaving a stunned group behind, and strode quickly to the bridge. He remembered to duck at the top of the stairs.

A small ship barreled into the debris field with abandon. And, even though the Star Stream was well hidden with the other hosts gathered around them, it would only take one misplaced weapon’s blast to reveal them or obliterate them. Three ships followed the fugitive ship, only seconds behind it. All the ships bore Phoenix Corps insignias, but clearly the three were after the one. It had to be Vos.

“I hope you had time to figure out where we’re going next,” Lucas said, “Because we need to flee.”

Rowan tugged her braid. “Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Ren said. “I have an idea.” He placed his hand on the navigational system. He didn’t need Lucas to program coordinates. He didn’t need any guidance to get where he was thinking. He just had to think of a lake surrounded by a small wood.

He sent his goodbyes out into space.

Goodbye, Ren.

Ren gathered his power, and it came to him more easily than it ever had. Light and sound trembled around him, and, between one blink and the next, they were gone, and then they were in orbit around a broken moon.

13

Blinking away the streaks of blue in his vision, Ren stared at the moon of Erden. A jagged slice through the rock separated the two largest pieces, and debris floated around it in a loose array. The moon was small compared to the planet and the larger drifts Ren had seen, and thus the gravity was less heavy. Ren had stared at this very rock for many of his formative years, wondering what the view would be from another angle. He had it now, and, for all the mysticism that surrounded it on Erden, seeing it this way, a hunk of rock spinning slowly amid a backdrop of stars, much of that mystery was lost. Yet, it was no less beautiful—a reminder of the home Ren once had.

“Erden,” Liam said, from behind Ren.

Ren startled and turned his focus away from the moon. In the corner of the vid screen, Erden was a blue and green sphere. It was stunning, but the memories of the last time Ren had been there bombarded him and made his gut sink to his knees.

“Ren, what did you do? How did we get here? Was that you?”

Darby, for all her glitches, was probably the most socially aware, and pulled Liam away and off the bridge. “Let me tell you all about your brother’s freaky science-magic.”

“You okay?” Asher asked.

“Yeah,” Ren answered. “It was the farthest place I could think of, and there aren’t any drifts nearby for Millicent to attack.”

“We can hide in the fissure,” Lucas said, arms straining as he piloted the ship closer to the moon. “Good call, Ren.”

“Thanks.”

“Now what?” Rowan asked, lounging in her chair. “We can’t keep running. The Corps will eventually find us, and, after that stunt, we’re wanted fugitives.”

“Asher and I were already wanted.”

“We were all wanted once the Corps figured out it was us on Bara,” Lucas added. He piloted the ship into a cove between the two parts of the moon. The rough rock cast the ship in shadow, but Ren could still see Erden on the view screen.

“True,” Rowan tapped her foot. “We need a plan.”

Ren was at a loss. He had pledged to help everyone he could, but he had his brother back now. He had Asher and the crew. He didn’t want to risk them, and any action that put them at risk was that much harder.

“Um…” Lucas said, tapping on his console. “We’re getting a message.”

“From whom?” Rowan tapped her mouth.

Lucas spun around in his chair. “Your mother.”

“Oh.” Rowan and Asher shared a glance. “That can’t be good.”

Asher wiped his hair from his forehead, then caught Ren’s hand in his own. He laced their fingers, and Ren held on.

Rowan crossed her legs and straightened her posture. She cleared her throat and gestured toward Lucas. “On screen.”

Ren held his breath. The screen blinked on, wavered, and then focused on Councilor Morgan and General VanMeerten. Dressed in her uniform, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, VanMeerten loomed. The harshness of her scar was matched by the cruelty of her frown.

“What have you done?” she shouted.

Rowan tented her fingers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Rowan. I will have you thrown into prison. You and your brother and your crew and—” she sucked in a breath, “you.” She eyed Ren as if he was a bug under a magnifying glass. “You were dead. I saw the footage of your bloody and lifeless body. How are you alive?”

“Don’t answer that,” Rowan snapped. She stood and crossed her arms. “Do you need something, General, or are you here just to yell at me and threaten my crew?”

Her face went nearly purple with rage. “Perilous Space housed dangerous criminals and star hosts and you have set them loose on the Corps and the drifts to fall into league with that girl.”

“That girl is your problem. Not the people you had falsely imprisoned. And we didn’t do anything criminal unless correcting an injustice is considered wrong. We freed a young man whom the Corps had taken from his home village planet-side. Last time I read the law, not only was kidnapping a crime, but planetary affairs were out of Corps’ jurisdiction. You didn’t belong on Erden, you didn’t belong on Crei, and you didn’t belong on Bara.” Rowan tapped her foot. “Now, if you are only here to scream, I’ll end this call now.”

Councilor Morgan reached out. “No, don’t. There’s more.” She looked worse for wear. Though she was dressed in her usual finery, the lines around her mouth and eyes had deepened in the days since they’d last talked. She wore her makeup caked thick to hide the stress evident under her eyes. She swirled a wine glass and took a gulp. “There’s more,” she said, quietly.

“Get on with it then. I have a business to run.”

VanMeerten narrowed her eyes. “Since your little stunt, the star host named Millicent has attacked yet another drift. She continues to vent Corps soldiers and then uses her power to take over the electrical and mechanical systems on the drift. She scares the residents into complying and has an army of zealots behind her. Our efforts have been ineffective.”

“What?” Ren asked. “Zag hasn’t been able to shoot her? How surprising.”

“It worked on you,” VanMeerten said, the lines around her mouth deepening with her frown. “Except it seems death didn’t stick.”

Asher’s hand flexed around Ren’s own. “You mean when you betrayed me and instead of going after Vos and Millicent, the very girl who is exacting her revenge on you right now, you decided to attempt murder on the person who was not the threat.”

“Not a threat?” VanMeerten scoffed. “As I understand it, he’s more dangerous than the others combined.”

“You betrayed us.” Asher said, not yielding. “You betrayed me.”

“You were working both sides from the beginning, Morgan.” She slammed her fist on the desk. “Don’t think I didn’t know that your allegiance was always with him and never with the Corps.”

“That wasn’t always true, General. But when you left me in a cell for a year on a planet, injured and afraid, a hostage to a man who wanted to build an army and wage war, then yes, my allegiance changed to the person who actually cared enough to free me.” Asher’s eyes flickered to his mother, who had grown even paler. “But instead of rehashing everything the Corps has done wrong since the beginning, let’s talk now. What do you want?”

“She’s powerful,” Councilor Morgan said. She finished her glass of wine and poured another one. “And you’re right, the Corps efforts have been unsuccessful. We need help. You can help.”

“We decline,” Rowan said. She smiled sweetly. “Sorry.”

Councilor Morgan squinted at the screen. “You’d allow one of your kind to wreak destruction on innocent people.”

Ren bristled. “That’s implying that Corps soldiers are innocents. She’s otherwise left the residents alone. And why would I want to interfere with a duster doing good?”

Ren lied. He lied and kept a smile plastered to his face, but his stomach churned. He hated the idea of Millicent killing anyone. He hated the idea that she was using her power for her own gain and scaring people and giving people reason to fear technopaths. He planned to stop her, but it would be on his own terms, on his own time.

“I think you have your answer, Mother, and General,” Asher said, clutching Ren’s hand tighter. “Unless, well, we may be persuaded.”

Rowan tapped her chin, sharing a glance with Asher. “You know, you might be right. We could be persuaded. But so far all I’ve heard is a bunch of yelling and no offer.”

VanMeerten sputtered. “Pirates! You are nothing but filthy pirates!”

Rowan cocked her head to the side. “So you’ve said. But I also know that I’ve lost a lot of potential jobs because of your incompetence. And I wouldn’t mind a little compensation.”

“If you don’t assist, then there will not be any drifts left for you to run trade between. Your living will become obsolete.”

“There are planets and, so far, I have a fairly good reputation with all the dusters I know.” Rowan shrugged. “There may be a little longer transit time, but, hey, when I have a technopath on board, I don’t foresee that as being much of a problem.” She winked, and her lips pulled into a smug smile.

General VanMeerten put her hands on her hips and huffed. Councilor Morgan hid a grin behind her glass.

“What do you know about her?” Councilor Morgan took another long drink of the dark liquid, then set the glass on her desk. She brushed her blond hair from her shoulder. “What is her weakness?” She zeroed in on Ren. “What can we do to defeat her? Or persuade her from continuing her rampage?”

“Don’t answer that,” Rowan said. “I haven’t heard a number yet.”

“Rowan!” her mother snapped. “This isn’t a game.”

“No, it’s not. We offered information last time, and you dismissed us. We tried to warn you a year ago, and again, you dismissed us. If you want our help, then we want a deal.”

“Fine!” VanMeerten glared. “What do you want?”

Ren swallowed. “I want my brother and myself to be left alone. I want a place on a drift, and your promise that the Corps will stop trying to imprison myself and other peaceful star hosts. I want the planets to be left alone and allowed to govern themselves without interference from the Corps unless that’s requested. I want you to apologize to me and the others.”

“I want credits,” Rowan said. “Lots of credits.”

“I want an honorable discharge.” Asher’s shoulders tightened. “And an apology wouldn’t go amiss either.”

VanMeerten pressed her lips together in a tight, white line. “I can arrange a discharge. I can arrange credits. I cannot speak to the other requests.”

Ren inwardly wilted, and his face drained of color. He should’ve known. Even if he bargained, he’d never be free.

“You can’t apologize?” Rowan asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

VanMeerten clenched her jaw, and a tremble appeared in the hinges. “I can’t speak to Corps policies. I cannot grant blanket amnesty to dangerous individuals and I cannot withdraw all the troops on planets as I am not the only individual who makes those decisions.”

“Ren is not dangerous,” Asher said. “Neither is his brother. And neither are the ones who had lived quietly in hiding until the Corps began to drag them out. Vos took advantage of a situation the Corps created. Surely, you see that.”

“I can give amnesty to Ren and his brother. No one else. And I will remove troops from Erden.”

Ren shook his head. “I won’t advocate just on my behalf. It has to be all or none.”

“Can you even stop her? You can’t expect us to bargain so much away when we don’t even know the extent of your power. And will you stop her? We can’t trust you. You all lied, and you attacked an encampment.”

“Ren,” Rowan said, lifting her chin, “show them.”

Ren swallowed. He disentangled from Asher’s hand, not wanting to hurt Asher’s mechanical shoulder accidentally. He took a deep breath and called upon the anger that welled within him due to this conversation, the frustration, and the fear and he concentrated on shaking apart, vibrating into pieces, as he collapsed inward. It came to him more easily, and his vision went blue, then violet, darker by degrees as he crumpled, and then his star exploded outward. A rainbow of sparks dripped from his fingers, and his vision swam in technicolor.

The comms crackled with energy and power, and he reverberated across the cluster, stretched along the communication feeds, and into the councilor’s office. It was the farthest he’d ever gone, and he was weak scattered out along the lines, but he flickered in their lights.

“What are you?” VanMeerten asked, voice breathless with horror.

“I am a star.”

“Ren,” Asher took his hand. “Come back.”

Ren retracted into his body in seconds and let the power go. He heaved in a breath and locked his knees to keep from staggering. The action left him weak, but he refused to show it, not in front of VanMeerten.

“Impressive,” Councilor Morgan said. “But can you stop her?”

“I don’t know,” Ren admitted. “She has abilities that I don’t. But I’ve learned more since I last faced her.”

“Then what good are you?” VanMeerten sneered. “Why should we waste our efforts on you?”

Rowan raised a finger. “Because everything else you’ve tried has led to people being killed. You’ve been utter dirt at protecting the drifts. We’ve seen it. And you need help.”

“We have another ally,” Asher said, shouldering forward. “And he won’t work with you without us. Without Ren. Between the three of us, we can work something out.”

VanMeerten sniffed, but the apprehension in her features softened. “And what? You’ll arrange a meeting?”

“Yes,” Ren said. He caught the look Asher and Rowan shared, but ignored them for the time being. “Yes, if you promise. Promise me you’ll back off and let us live.”

“A moment.” Councilor Morgan placed her palm over the camera and Ren heard a hurried whispered conversation. Rolling his eyes, Ren boosted the sound, and the conversation came loud and clear over the Star Stream’s comm.

“Handy,” Rowan said with tight smile.

With a huff, Councilor Morgan pulled her hand away. “Speak, Grace.”

The general straightened the jacket of her uniform. The medals on her chest gleamed; the braided ropes over her shoulders pulled taut.

“An honorable discharge for Asher. Credits for Rowan.” Her left eye ticked. “And a pardon for the technopath and his brother. Warrants and files deleted. That’s all I will promise. If you succeed, we’ll negotiate for the other pieces.” She cleared her throat. “Does that sound fair?”

“You forgot the apology,” Rowan said sweetly. “I think we all deserve one, but especially Asher and Ren.”

VanMeerten grumbled but the councilor knocked her arm into the general’s back. “Fine. On behalf of the Corps, I apologize for the treatment you’ve both received.”

“Work on the apology,” Asher said. “For when we arrange the meeting. I’d like it to be more specific and sincere.”

“Otherwise? Do we have a deal?”

Asher wrapped his arm around Ren’s shoulder. “What do you say?”

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. But his family would be taken care of. Maybe… maybe she would bend when Millicent and Vos were finally dealt with.

“Fine. With further negotiation understood once the threat has been neutralized.”

“Yes,” VanMeerten agreed. “And how will you arrange this meeting? It needs to happen fast and—”

“We’ll take care of it,” Ren interrupted. “We’ll contact you when we’re ready.”

She nodded. “Fine. Don’t dawdle.”

Rowan cut he feed. “Don’t be such a cog,” Rowan muttered once the screen winked out. “Who does she think she is?”

“I think she is the head of a military organization,” Lucas said from his seat. “That was intense.”

Ren had forgotten he was there, but was glad he was another witness to their deal.

“Did you record that?” Asher asked.

“Sure thing. I hit that button as soon as she popped up on the screen. Damn, she’s scary.”

“She’s not scary when you know what scares her.” Ren leaned into Asher’s side. “She’s afraid of me.”

“So,” Rowan sat heavily in her chair and slumped, “how are we going to arrange a meeting with an escaped convict and us and a general who would as soon see us all thrown into jail as smile at us. We can’t go to them. I don’t trust VanMeerten.”

“I don’t trust Vos. He’ll turn on us as soon as he gets a chance. And if he managed to free Abiathar, he could turn Ren against us, or any other star host he may have freed.”

Ren bit his lip. “We’ll use a dream.”

“What?” Rowan stood. “We’ll do what?”

“My brother can enter dreams. My powers don’t work there. I’m certain he could find Vos. He might not remember, but he’s done it before in the prison. And we know where VanMeerten is hanging out.”

“That was Mother’s office.”

“Can he get all of us there? Would it be safe?”

Ren shrugged. “It would be safer than a physical meeting.”

“We’ll ask him.”

“Not now,” Ren said. “He needs to rest. He’s been through a lot.”

“Soon though. VanMeerten is right. We can’t dawdle. Millicent has three drifts under her control that we know of. And with each passing moment, Vos is either getting farther into hiding or starting to rebuild his own forces.”

“I’ll talk to him tonight.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Restless, Ren stayed in the cargo bay, rifled through the crate Ollie had bought him before the incident, and fixed the spare parts he could and trashed the ones he couldn’t. Asher left him to his thoughts. Liam rested, and Ren checked in on him often, traveling through the circuits to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. He slept like the dead, sprawled out, unmoving, leaden in the sheets—the sleep of the truly exhausted. Ren intimately knew the feeling.

Ren dreaded asking Liam to use his power to help them. He’d been manipulated by the Corps, tortured if he didn’t comply, and resisted in his own small ways. And now he was rescued, only to be asked to do the same thing. Lost in thought and work, Ren didn’t notice the passing of time until Asher touched his arm.

“Ren?”

Ren blinked, and Asher frowned. “I’m going to bed. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… lost track of time.”

“Not like before?”

“Huh?” Ren set a piece of tech aside. “No, not like before. Thinking about Liam.”

“Ah,” Asher sat next to him. “Do you want talk about it?”

Ren scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Not really. I need to talk to him.”

“You do.”

“I don’t have much time.”

“You don’t.”

Those were the facts and Ren appreciated Asher for confirming them and not trying to pry anything else out of him or try to offer unwanted platitudes.

“Talk to him, Ren. If he doesn’t want to help us, that’s fine. It means we have to figure out another way. We can do that.”

Sighing, Ren stood. He checked the feeds and was surprised to find Liam was gone from the room he’d been assigned and was on the bridge. Lucas was there as well, tapping away at his console, but otherwise, they were silent.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Asher’s mouth tipped up in a grin. “I’ll wait for you.”

Ren padded up the metal steps from the bay into the heart of the ship. He passed the common area, where Penelope and Darby played a card game, laughing at each other, then walked down the hall past the crew quarters. He jumped up the small set of steps and ducked onto the bridge.

Lucas looked up from his calculations and stood. He didn’t say a word, only acknowledged Ren with a tip of his chin and a small pat to the shoulder as he walked past.

Liam stood at the viewing screen, dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to him, barefoot, and swaying like an apparition.

Ren waited a few moments before addressing him.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Liam didn’t turn around.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” Ren knotted his hands behind his back. “I need to talk—”

“It’s right there.” Liam pressed his hand to the viewing screen. “I want to go home.”

Ren wandered toward the screen. “I know.”

“When you were there last, did you see anyone other than our parents? People from the village?”

Ren crossed his arms. “A few. Our home isn’t there anymore, Liam. The village is gone. Our house… well, it was standing, barely, but I doubt it is any longer.”

“We’ll rebuild it. Dad and I can. I know you two didn’t always get along, but between the three of us, we could fix it.”

“Liam—”

“You could convince Sorcha and Jakob to move the village back to the lake. They’d listen to you.”

“I don’t think—”

“Mom told me she was sorry for everything that happened in the laurels.” Liam cast a look over his shoulder to Ren. “She wanted me to tell you. I talked to her through my dreams, when I could. She was harder to contact than you were, and I think it had something to do with her power. I’ve been too exhausted to try for the past few weeks. She’ll be worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want to go home. Please?” He turned wide, wounded eyes to Ren. “We could run down there, and you can drop me off. Or you could transport us. I know you can. I saw that you can.”

Ren ducked his head. “We’re not going to Erden. We don’t know what’s happening down there or where our friends are.”

“Ren—”

“I said no,” Ren snapped. “We’re not going. We have other things to deal with. We have other things to do than worry about anyone planet-side.”

Liam’s features screwed up in anger. His cheeks went red, and his lips trembled. “Just because you don’t want it to be your home anymore doesn’t mean you can keep me from going. I want to go to the lake. I want to see Mom and Dad. I want to be back on the soil.”

“Liam, that’s not why.”

“Yes, it is! Just because you hate it doesn’t mean I do!”

Ren sighed. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Liam, I don’t want to fight with you. I’ll get you home. I promise. But later. Too much is at stake right now.”

Liam crossed the room and pushed Ren hard in the shoulder. Ren staggered back.

“You just want to use me like they did, don’t you? I heard you talking to that general. She needs you, and you need me.”

Stricken, tears sprang to Ren’s eyes. “That’s not true.” His voice shook.

“Liar!” Liam pushed again. “Liar! Come on!” He pushed until Ren’s back hit the bulkhead. “Fight back! I know you can! You never did at home, but I’ve seen you now. I know what you can do!”

Pushing his forearm across Ren’s chest, Liam pinned him against the metal. Ren’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“Liam, stop.”

“Why? Why should I? That’s how it works up here, right? You got what you wanted by fighting; maybe that’s what I have to do.”

Ren pushed against Liam’s shoulders. “Will you cut it out? You’re right. I don’t want to go back to Erden. I don’t want to take you there. Happy?”

“No! I want to go home! Why won’t you let me?”

“Because I just got you back!” Ren shouted. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. “You may have spent a year in that prison, but I’ve been in chains and chased across a countryside. I’ve been possessed by a ship. I was betrayed, and I was murdered, and the whole time I looked for you. I wouldn’t stop looking for you.”

Liam shoved Ren one last time. His elbow caught Ren in his wound; then he released him and stalked across the deck. The pain stole Ren’s air, and he gasped, knees weak.

“What? Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?”

“No,” Ren said. “It’s supposed to make you feel loved.”

Liam bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand. His shoulders shook. Tentatively, Ren came up behind Liam and touched his back.

“You’re my brother. You’re my family. You’re the only family I have.”

“That’s not true,” Liam said, voice thick.

“Our mother and your father aren’t… they’re not… I don’t think…”

“Not them,” Liam said, saving Ren from having to find the thoughts and feelings associated with his mother and stepfather. “The crew. This crew are your family. Asher is your family. I… don’t have that.”

“You could have that. They’ve spent almost as much time looking for you as I have. They welcome everyone who wants to be a part of the crew.”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t want them to be my family. I have one.” He pointed to Erden. “There.”

Ren closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “You’re right. It’s not just that we don’t have time. I need you. I need your power. I can’t let you leave, yet.”

“I know.” Liam shrugged. “You want me to arrange a meeting between those people.”

“I do.”

“So you can kill her.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to kill her. And maybe we can disarm her and keep her from hurting anyone else.”

“And if you’re not able to.”

“That’s why we need to have a meeting. To go over our options.”

“I thought you hated the Corps and Baron Vos.”

Ren smiled ruefully. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And VanMeerten promised she’d let us go if I do this. If I help them, they will let you go home and they’ll give Asher a discharge, and Rowan will be able to do business again.”

“And you?”

“I’ll get to be free.”

Liam’s brow furrowed. “What are you planning?”

“I’m not planning anything.”

Liam’s defensive posture dropped. “You’re a bad liar.” He waved his hand. “Don’t. I just… you need to consider Asher before you make any big sweeping decisions. He loves you.”

“I am considering him.”

“Okay. I just think he’d be happier with you than without you.”

Ren didn’t have any intention of leaving, of dying again. But he wasn’t naïve. He was a supernova, destined to explode. “I’m sorry for not telling you everything,” Ren said. “You’re not a child anymore.”

“Neither are you.” Liam smiled sadly. “Sorry for pinning you against the wall and thanks for not frying me or something.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Sure, it doesn’t. You could’ve totally toasted me, and I would’ve deserved it.”

Ren ruffled Liam’s hair, and Liam ducked, laughing, and batted Ren away. “Go to bed,” Ren said. “You’ve had a trying day.”

“Yeah, in a bit. I want to stay and look a little longer.”

Ren knocked his shoulder in Liam’s. “Okay. Night.”

“Night, big brother.”

Ren left the bridge and headed to the crew quarters. In the crew hallway, Asher waited, feet twitching on the deck plate, arms crossed over his bare chest, hair sticking up.

“I heard shouting.”

Ren looped his hand through the crook of Asher’s elbow. “Everything is fine.” He tugged Asher back toward their room.

“Are you lying to me?”

Ren stopped short.

“We made a promise we would be upfront and wouldn’t hide things anymore. You lied to me at the prison.”

“Come on,” Ren said. “I want another night of sleeping with you before things get out of control again.”

Asher followed, frowning. Once inside their room, Ren guided him to the bed.

“I’m not lying,” Ren said. “I didn’t tell you about feeling the trouble on the top floor because I was scared you’d have us abandon Liam when we were so close. I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

Asher sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“I know.”

“And now?”

Ren lowered next to him, their bodies flush from hip to knee. “The others in the debris told me that I am a supernova.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s what I did on the bridge. If I allow myself, I will collapse and explode outward. It’s why everything is burning darkly now. It makes me more powerful, and it’s how I can defeat Millicent. I can overwhelm her, maybe.”

“But?”

Ren winced. “Supernovas explode.”

“You’ll… explode.”

“Not literally,” Ren said. “I don’t think. My power might become too much and I’ll…” Ren mimed a blast with his hands.

“Huh,” Asher said. “So, you’re at risk of losing your humanity if you become too entrenched in the ship, which I’ve seen and is frankly terrifying, or you might tear your star to pieces trying to defeat Millicent.” Asher laughed. “Nothing is easy with you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m confused and frightened, to be blunt.” He shrugged. “But what can I do? Other than protect you and be at your side.” He twined their fingers. “I’ll be your anchor when you need one. And I’ll piece you back together like a puzzle if I have to.”

Ren blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Ren smiled, the relief of Asher’s words a balm to his worry and anxiety. “I can’t believe you.”

“I told you, Ren. You’re it for me. And I’ll want to be with you in all your weirdness, whatever form that takes—star host or supernova. Get it through your thick skull, you idiot duster.”

Laughing, Ren tackled Asher to the bed. “I love you, you arrogant drifter.”

“You better,” Asher said, rolling Ren off of him.

Propped up on his elbow, Ren faced Asher. “I can’t wait to have a life with you. When this is all over, I want you and me, on a drift, living together and being us.”

“Sounds perfect.” Asher pulled their clasped hands and hugged them to his chest. “But until then, get some rest.”

14

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Rowan asked, eyebrow raised, as Liam plumped a pillow and dropped it on the floor.

“Yes. I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“And you’re going to be able to find Vos and VanMeerten and pull them into your dream?”

Liam nodded. “I can make it a nightmare if you prefer.”

Rowan smiled and patted his shoulder. “My kind of kid. We’ll talk later about that option.”

Smirking, Liam lay down, limp red hair splayed across the crisp white pillowcase. “My kind of captain.”

Rowan laughed. Asher rolled his eyes as he shouldered past her into the room.

The entire crew stood around the bare floor in the common room watching as the three of them prepared to meet their enemies. The room was tense with questions and disbelief and nervous banter, but Ren trusted Liam, trusted that his brother could pull this off. He’d spent the last year manipulating dreams. He had the experience.

Ren rubbed his brow, as Lucas cracked a joke about damp dreams, then crouched to the floor, squeezing into the space between Liam and the couch. Asher flopped onto the cushions; his arm fell off the edge to grab Ren’s hand in his own.

“This looks like a bizarre sleepover game.” Darby bent at her waist and squinted. “Like that game where you pretend to levitate someone with your fingers but turn off the grav instead and freak everyone out.”

Rowan pressed a hand to her chest and appeared vaguely scandalized. “What kind of party game is that?”

“The fun kind.”

Ren rolled his eyes. He squirmed trying to find a comfortable position. The deck plating was cold, hard, and flat, and reminded him of the medical cot where he’d spent weeks asleep. His hands went clammy where his palm pressed Asher’s and where he gripped Liam’s wrist.

“Hey,” Liam said, head turned, voice low. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

Ren furrowed his brow. “For what?”

“For losing it on the bridge last night.” He scratched his ear where it was tinted red in a blush. “I… uh… have things to deal with. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” Ren said, squeezing gently. “I’ve been there. I still am there, dealing with things. Don’t forget that I’m here if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Liam said, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Please do.”

“So what now?” Darby asked. “You fall asleep?”

“Yes and no. I have learned how to enter dreams on command by accessing my power. I’m going to pull them in with me.” Liam jerked his chin toward Asher and Ren. “Hopefully. We’ll see. It might work.”

“You don’t sound very confident,” Darby said.

“It’ll work,” Rowan interrupted. “We know VanMeerten is on the same drift as our mother and it’s the middle of their sleep cycle right now. She should be asleep and be easy for Liam to find.”

“And Vos?” Lucas asked. “The dude we really need to be there.”

Liam shrugged. “If what you’ve all told me is true, then I’ve met him before. I already have a connection with him through my star. I should be able to grab him and suck him in.”

“Even if he’s not asleep?”

Liam nodded. “Yeah. It’s something I learned since the last time we talked,” he said, casting a glance at Ren. “It’s easier when someone is asleep or relaxed or if I’m touching them, but I’ve been successful with nabbing someone who was wide awake. I did it once at the prison.”

“That’s terrifying,” Darby said, eyes wide. “Utterly terrifying.”

“More terrifying than freaky science-magic?” Ren asked, craning his neck.

“Yes!” she said with a sharp nod. “Can you imagine going about your day and suddenly you are pulled into an alternate reality created and controlled by someone else?”

Liam cocked his head to the side and scrunched his brow. “I never thought about it that way.”

“That’s because you’re the one doing it!” She flung her arms to the side. “Honestly, what would you all do without me to be your moral star chart in these situations?”

“I think we’d make do,” Rowan said, drily.

Darby huffed. “I think you’ve been living in star host reality for too long and forgotten what it’s like for us normal people.”

“Normal?” Penelope waltzed in, blankets in her arms. “Who’s normal? No one on this ship surely.” She passed the blanket pile to a confused Lucas, then pulled the top one off and shook it out. Stepping through the small crowd, she draped it over Liam, then tucked him in tightly. “In case you get cold. I know how Ren can sometimes play with the environmental controls when he’s stressed, and we’d hate for a chill to disrupt negotiations.” She took the next one and did the same with Ren, laying it over him and jamming her fingers around Ren’s body, tucking the thick fabric close while Liam looked on in confusion and vague horror. The last one she tossed in Asher’s face. He sputtered, and she grinned.

“Thank you, Pen,” Ren said.

She waved away his thanks and turned to the group. “Okay, let them get to it. The rest of you have things to do. Right?”

“No,” Darby said, jumping up on the table and kicking out her legs. “I’m watching this.”

“Out,” Asher barked, pointing his finger to the door. “Liam needs to concentrate.”

Darby groused but hopped off the table and followed Ollie and Lucas out the door. Rowan crossed her arms. “Do you need someone to stay behind and wake you up?”

“No,” Liam shook his head from his blanket cocoon. “We’ll be fine.”

“Fine then. Come find us when you’re done.” She said it as if she wouldn’t be hovering as soon as they were asleep. Ren knew otherwise.

Penelope was the last to leave. “I’ll check in periodically.” She smiled warmly. “Good luck.”

With Penelope’s departure, the common area went quiet. Their breaths and the creaks of the ship were the only sounds in the room.

“Are you nervous?” Ren asked Asher.

“No.” It was a lie. “You?”

“No,” Ren lied back.

Liam rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes. “Relax,” he said.

Ren followed suit, snuggling into the blanket, and closing his eyes. He made sure he had a tight grip on Asher’s hand on one side and Liam’s wrist on the other and took a deep breath. He tightened his muscles and relaxed them, starting with his toes, then his calves, then his thighs, moving up his body as he slid deeper toward sleep.

One moment he was in the common room drifting on the edge and the next—

They were at the lake. The soft sounds of the waves ebbing and flowing on the shore were as familiar to Ren as the feeling of Asher’s hand in his. The coarse sand pricked the bottom of his feet, and the sun shone on him, bright and hot.

“Really?” Ren asked, turning to find Liam.

Liam sat on a large rock at the line where the beach met the forest. Long grass tickled his ankles and wisped in the breeze. He shrugged. “I figured it was neutral ground, and this is where I want to be.”

Asher’s body slowly came into focus as he stood by Ren’s side. “I hope this works.”

Ren dug his toes in the sand. “Me too.”

“Liam?”

“I’m good. I can hold it for a while.” Liam scrunched his face. “I’ve got VanMeerten.”

As he said it, VanMeerten coalesced a few feet down the beach. She wore her uniform and shielded her eyes from the harsh planet light. She scowled as she approached. “Is this your idea of contacting me for a meeting?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Ren said.

VanMeerten narrowed her eyes, but otherwise appeared unruffled at being pulled into a dream. “Where are we?”

“Erden,” Ren said. “Where we grew up.”

“Charming,” she said with a frown. “Where’s Vos?”

“He’s slippery,” Liam said with a grunt. Sweat appeared at his temples. His brow furrowed; his teeth dug into his lip. He gripped his knees. “Got him.”

Ren looked down the beach and watched as Vos appeared. He wore all black and he frantically spun around, kicking up sand, before his gaze lit on Ren and VanMeerten.

“What is this?” he said, walking forward, his black boots sinking into the beach. “Your little dreamwalker here to steal my thoughts again?”

VanMeerten sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t, you old hag.” He pointed at Liam. “That little weed slid into my dreams and stole my secrets. He trapped me in nightmares and tortured me for nights on end.”

Liam waved. “I don’t remember doing it. If that helps.”

“No, it doesn’t. And you,” Vos said, turning his attention to Asher and Ren, “left me at Perilous Space.”

“You escaped,” Asher said, voice flat.

“With no help from you.”

Asher shrugged, unconcerned. “I left a weapon.”

“With barely any charge!”

Asher smirked.

“Anyway,” Ren said, “I gathered you here for a reason. The two of you have a common enemy.”

“You?” Vos offered.

A harsh smile tickled the side of VanMeerten’s mouth.

“Hardly. I didn’t steal your army,” Ren said, addressing Vos. “And I’m not venting yours. Though I could.” VanMeerten’s smug smile flattened.

Vos crossed his arms. “So, you want me to corral Millicent. Is that it?”

“You were the idiot that released her into the drifts,” VanMeerten snarled. “You should’ve known as a star host she was dangerous.”

Vos laughed. He pointed at Ren. “This one is more dangerous than five Millicents. And just as you can’t control him, you can’t control her.”

“Neither can you.” VanMeerten clenched her fists. “After she blows through the Corps, the planets will be next. You will be next.”

Vos huffed and crossed his arms. “She doesn’t concern me.”

“So, you freed him?” Ren asked. “Abiathar? You were able to get him out?”

Vos smiled. “I did. Is that what you want? Abiathar to stop her? Then what? You throw my friend back into prison where you muzzle him until he’s needed again?”

“You created this mess,” VanMeerten shoved her finger into Vos’s chest. “You need to own this.”

Vos knocked her hand away. “Me? Your military regime came to my planet and interfered. I didn’t have designs on the drifts until I found a Corps regiment snooping and caught the son of a high-powered drift official with them.” Vos nodded to Asher. “How’s the shoulder by the way?”

“You’re lucky,” Asher said, “that I promised Ren I wouldn’t kill you here.”

“A soldier to the core. Even when branded a traitor.”

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I understand that there will be no trust between us. We’ve all betrayed each other. But we must stop Millicent. If you don’t want more Corps dead and if you want freedom for our planet, you’ll both shut up and listen to each other.”

Vos raised a black eyebrow and stroked his hand over his goatee. “Fine. I’m willing to bargain.”

“Not you, too,” VanMeerten said with a roll of her eyes to the heavens. “What do you want? A pardon?”

“Hardly,” Vos said, strolling around them in a circle like a shark circling its prey. “I want Erden. I want to rule.”

“No!” Liam stood. The dream wavered; reality shimmered. Holes opened in the sky and in the ground, revealing stark darkness just beyond the image he created. “You were a horrible baron. You kidnapped my brother and my friends. You stole our food and our livelihoods.”

Vos held up his hands, head tilted. “I can’t argue.”

“We’re not sacrificing the planets to save the drifts,” Ren said.

“Well, then,” Vos said, backing away from the group. “No deal.”

“We don’t need him, anyway,” Asher said. He shrugged. “His army defected to Millicent, so he wouldn’t be helpful. And I doubt he knows where she’s going to strike next.”

Vos stopped his retreat. He looked at Asher and let a slow smile bloom over his face. “You’re trying to appeal to my vanity. You think I’d care about what you think of me, a Corps traitor and a little boy who stayed in my prison for a year? I don’t.”

“But you’re not walking away.”

Vos clasped his hands together in front of him. “No, I’m not.”

“It burns you that your faithful so easily abandoned you for another. Granted, her power is spectacular, but it pales in comparison to Ren’s.”

Vos tapped his lips with a finger. “I admit it stings. What would my part be in all this? You already have an army,” he said, gesturing to VanMeerten. “And you have a star host that can presumably stop her. What do you need from me?”

“We don’t need you,” VanMeerten said with a frown. “And I am having a hard time understanding why you’re here.”

“We need a backup plan,” Ren said. “I don’t know if I can defeat her. She has manipulated me in the past. Vos is a duster. He cultivated the devotion and respect of the people who follow her now. He may be able to turn them back to his side. He also has Abiathar, who can help me. Abiathar can stop both of us if it gets out of control.”

“And he probably knows where she is going next.”

Vos didn’t refute Asher’s statement. “And again, we’re down to compensation,” Vos said. He spread his hands. “I gave you my terms.”

“You can have Erden,” VanMeerten said, with a wave of her hand.

Ren stiffened. “No.”

She spun on her heel, sand flying. “You want the planets to be able to govern themselves. Correct? Well, if they don’t want him in leadership then they can revolt. That is their choice of action. Not mine. Not the Corps. We won’t interfere if that happens, but if he’s so important to this mission, as you seem to believe, then I will not have you and your brother stand in the way of stopping this madwoman.”

Ren took a step back. “You’ll install him as a puppet?”

“No,” VanMeerten said. “We’ll give him a ship and his army and will not interfere when he comes back to this,” she swept her hand to encompass their environment, “dirt hole.”

Liam shot to his feet. “No!” The dream wavered again, the sky turned purple, and the waves slapped against the shore as reality shuddered.

Ren held out a steadying hand to Liam. “It’s okay,” he said to his brother, then turned back to the group. He bristled. “Fine.” He glanced at Vos’s arrogant and pleased expression and his stomach churned. “I’ll have people waiting for you. Don’t think it will be easy.”

“Oh, I welcome a challenge.”

“Enough.” Asher pulled Ren to his side from where he had drifted toward both VanMeerten and Vos. “Tell us where she’s going next.”

“In my plan, my next two targets would be Nike or Ephesus.”

Asher crossed his arms. “Both small and far away from the major routes. Why?”

“Liam,” Ren said, keeping his gaze glued to Vos. “Can you bring up a map?”

A large map of the cluster sprouted from the ground between them, then bloomed outward. Planets and drifts spun lazily.

“Highlight Phoebus and Echo. What was the other drift she’s taken?”

“Viktory drift.”

The three drifts flashed gold on the map. They were all outer drifts, near planets or moons, and scattered near the edges. “And Nike and Ephesus.” They also burned gold, and Ren saw the pattern instantly.

“Your plan was to make a barrier. You were going to circle the major drifts and slowly move inward.”

“Tightening a noose,” Vos said, pleased with himself. He poked at the map and set Mykonos drift spinning. “Until I could get there.”

“Last time you tried that, you were stopped,” VanMeerten shrugged. “What makes you think you could take it this time?”

“Last time, I was stopped by him,” Vos pointed to Ren. “But by all accounts, he was dead. Also, I had devised a much better plan now that I knew the limitations of your regime.”

“Great plan,” Asher said, sarcasm thick.

Ren ignored them all. “She’s following your pattern.” Ren squinted. “Evacuate the Corps from Nike and Ephesus.”

“That’s impossible,” VanMeerten sneered. “It will arouse suspicion. It will cause panic.”

“Do you want more soldiers to die?”

“No. I do not. If I evacuate those drifts, then what? She will waltz in unopposed.”

Ren nodded sharply. “Yes. That’s what we want.”

Vos’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you planning?”

“You and Abiathar will be waiting on one drift, and I will be waiting on the other. Wherever she lands, we’ll be prepared, and the others will then converge to support.”

“And what will you be waiting with?”

“Traps,” Ren said. “I was ensnared in Perilous Space and I can create the same obstructions in the drift systems. Maybe I can capture her.”

“And if she goes to his drift?”

Vos tilted his head and smiled, self-confident. “You forget. I have a star host who controls others with his voice. He can stop her. I can stop her zealots.”

“And I am supposed to trust you both? Trust that you won’t take the drifts for yourselves?”

“Yes,” Asher said. “You have to.”

“I don’t want a drift. I only want this to all be settled,” Ren said. He tapped his bare foot and crossed his arms.

Vos shrugged. “As long as you keep your end of the bargain, I don’t see why I would want a little outlier drift.”

VanMeerten pointed a finger at Vos and then swung around at Ren. “I’ll be watching the both of you and will have regiments ready by both drifts. And if you cross me, I’ll throw you so deep in Perilous Space neither of you dusters will ever see another planet sunrise. Am I clear?”

Vos smirked. “We’ve both escaped there once.”

“Why you—”

“Yes. Fine.” Asher interrupted and waved his hand before another verbal sparring match could break out. “We’ll be on Ephesus.” Asher gestured to Liam. “We’re done here.”

Liam nodded, and the dream winked out.

* * *

“How did it go?” Rowan asked as soon as Ren woke. Asher stirred next to him and sat up, rubbing a hand over his head.

“We have a plan,” Ren said.

“And?”

“And it’s the best we can do.” Asher mumbled.

Liam jerked up. He glared at Ren as he stood, stomping out of the common room, presumably to his bunk.

“Is he okay?” Rowan asked.

Ren sighed. “We had to make a trade. He didn’t like it.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” She sat on the couch next to Asher. “Are you sure about this?”

“No.” Asher rested his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “I’m afraid any plans we make are going to be thrown out the airlock as soon as we encounter her.”

Ren leaned into the touch. “It was worth a try.”

“Yeah,” Asher agreed.

“So, what now?” Rowan nudged Ren with the toe of her boot. “What’s the plan?”

Ren and Asher exchanged a look. “We’re going to Ephesus drift.”

* * *

Liam stood on the bridge, looking out at Erden through the rocky debris of the broken moon. Ren tentatively approached from behind, as Lucas typed the coordinates to Ephesus drift in the nav console.

“Sorcha and Jakob will stop Vos,” Ren said, standing next to Liam’s side. “We’ll alert them, and they’ll be waiting for him.”

“He’ll have an army,” Liam said, voice low, fingertips splayed on the viewing screen. “He’ll roll over them.”

“He won’t. Sorcha has an army too. You should see the person she’s become. Jakob too. You’d be amazed.”

“And the person you’ve become?” Liam asked, gaze breaking from the sight of their home planet to rest heavily on Ren.

“Will do whatever it takes to make sure everyone I care about is safe. Including you. Including them. Including this crew.”

Liam turned away. “I never thought of you as someone other people would be scared of, but that general, and even Baron Vos, both of them were afraid. Should I be too?”

Ren pressed his lips together and remained quiet. The answer was too complicated for the moment, but Liam took it for an answer anyway.

“Do you think I’ll see it again? Erden?”

“Of course.” Ren knocked his shoulder into Liam’s. “Once it’s all said and done, I’ll bring you right back. Maybe even you can be part of Vos’s welcoming party.”

Liam huffed, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Ren?” Lucas asked. “Everything’s ready. We just need a little freaky science-magic.”

Ren gave Lucas a small smile. “You too, huh?”

“It’s catchy.”

Ren grumbled good naturedly and crossed the bridge to the nav console. He nodded to Lucas.

“Hey all,” Lucas said into the comm, “we’re about to move quickly through time and space via technopathic abilities. Hold on to something.”

Several voices came over the comm at once affirming the crew was ready.

Ren glanced to Liam, who sat on the floor with his back against the bulk head and watched Ren with a wary gaze.

Closing his eyes, Ren blew out a breath. He gathered his power and entered the ship, bled into the systems, flooded the circuits with his presence and his will. Electricity crackled over his body and throbbed under his skin, matching the beat of his pulse. Static and power crested higher and higher, built upon itself until both Ren and the ship reached their limit. The power exploded outward, kinetic and powerful, a wave of light and sound. Space folded and time stretched and snapped.

The Star Stream burst into existence on the outskirts of Ephesus drift.

“I think I am getting used to that,” Lucas said, stretching his arms behind his head. “It beats puttering down a trade route.”

Face pale, Liam staggered away from the view screen. “I don’t think I’m used to it yet,” he muttered.

Lucas laughed while he hit buttons and received information from the docking staff. “Stick with us, and the extraordinary becomes ordinary. Like a year ago, I thought people like you were duster myths, and now, well, I know better.” He flashed a wide smile before flipping open the shipwide comm. “Hey all, we’re here and in the docking queue. Drift time is the middle of the night, perfect for sketchy activities.” Ren frowned. “And reconnaissance. Sketchy activities and reconnaissance.”

Ren shook his head. “Darby is a bad influence on you,” he said over his shoulder as he left the bridge.

* * *

They docked without a problem. The Star Stream eased into the bay and settled on the drift’s deck plate. During the entire process, Ren fidgeted, tugging at the collar of the jacket he’d taken from Asher’s room. After a few minutes to allow pressurization, Ren opened the back doors of the ship wide, as if they were taking on cargo. His power crackled in the mechanism. He followed Ollie and Rowan down the ramp with Asher at his side and Liam trailing with an open mouth and wide eyes. Darby elbowed Liam in the side.

“Close your mouth, dust bunny, or do you want to be pegged a mark.”

Liam snapped his mouth shut. Darby looped her arm through his and tugged him through the doorway from the Star Stream’s slip into the dock itself. “Stick with me. You’ll be all right.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Liam said in return.

Ren bit back a chuckle.

“Remember, we’re doing reconnaissance,” Asher said, casting a glance at the duo. “Not picking marks or other…” He sighed. “…sketchy activities.”

Darby shrugged. “I can’t do both?”

Rowan spoke into her comm. “Hey, Pen and Lucas, we’re on drift. We’ll check in on the hour.”

“Okay, Rowan,” Penelope’s voice was cheery. “We’ll be here and will keep an eye out on the docking traffic.”

“Alert us when the Corps regiment VanMeerten promised gets here,” Asher said.

“Will do. You be careful.”

“We’ll try,” Rowan said with a wry smile.

The group left the dock through a small door and spilled into the drift proper. A few shops and restaurants were open on the dock level. Signs flashed, and drones flew overhead, carrying objects back and forth. The usual announcements were quieter than during the bustle of the drift’s day, and only a handful of individuals milled about. Lucas had said it was the middle of the sleep cycle for the drift residents, which left docking parties like their own and a few opportunistic merchants awake.

They stopped at a large observation window, and Ren smiled when Liam looked out as the backdrop of stars rotated around them.

“Holy dust,” he whispered.

“Bunny,” Darby said, cheeks dimpling. “This is nothing.”

Asher nudged Ren’s arm. “Reminds me of you.”

Ren blushed. “Shut up.”

“Anyway,” Rowan said, tapping her lips, “there is a reason we are here. We’ll split up to cover more ground.”

Ollie draped his large arm across Darby’s shoulders and tugged both her and Liam to his side. “I’ll take these two.”

“Good.” Rowan adjusted the weapon at her hip. “I’ll head up. You three head down. Ren, can you give us a quick layout?”

“Sure thing.” Ren swept into the drift’s systems, vision washing blue, to pull up schematics and abruptly stopped. The sickly-sweet embrace of Millicent’s power rolled over him as soon as he slid into the systems. He stumbled, hand against his chest, a cold sweat breaking out along the back of his neck. He leaned heavily against the drift’s bulkhead.

“Ren? What’s wrong?” Asher was beside him in an instant and wrapped his hand around Ren’s arm to steady him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She’s already here.”

15

“What do you mean she’s already here?” Asher grabbed Ren’s arm. His fingers bruised Ren’s elbow.

Ren grimaced. Millicent’s power pulsed in the systems of the drift. She was there, and her signature crawled in Ren’s veins; it ebbed and flowed over him like the tides compelled by Erden’s broken moon, and his stomach lurched. This wasn’t a series of remnants like he’d felt on Echo. It wasn’t a caress of his skin or a touch against his own star. This was an infestation, a sickening surge of her presence everywhere around him. Ren recoiled, and she followed, poking at his star with her own. Wrapping his arm around his middle, Ren closed his eyes and would have doubled over if not for Asher’s grip.

“She’s here.” He gulped down the acid in his throat. “And she knows I’m here too.”

“She beat us,” Asher said. He turned to the group. “Rowan, get everyone back to the ship! We need to get out of here.”

“Too late.” Ren trembled.

The sound of boots striking the deck in unison echoed down the drift corridor. Whipping his head, Ren spied a cadre of troops in helmets and body armor, weapons raised, marching toward them from one way. In the other direction, a lift dinged, and the sliding doors revealed a second troop. As the first few filed out, Rowan and Asher exchanged a glance.

Ren’s gut twisted as Rowan’s hand dropped to the weapon at her hip, and Asher pulled his from his shoulder holster. They nodded to each other.

“Scatter,” Rowan said voice low. “Make for the ship if you can or hide and wait. Understood?”

“Yes, captain,” Ollie said.

She nodded, body tense like a spring. “Okay, now. Go now!”

Ren engaged his power; his star burst out of him in streaks of blue. He entered the systems despite Millicent’s presence. Pain lanced through the base of his skull, and bile crawled up his throat. He cut the lights on their floor. Amid shouts from the soldiers and the crackle of electricity of their weapons, the group dispersed, running in opposite directions. Rowan fired shots into the dark, aiming high to distract and frighten, not injure. Sparks rained as pulses struck the drift walls.

Ren reached out; signatures from the different weapons pinged his senses. He shorted them out as best he could to give the others time. Asher grabbed Ren’s hand and yanked him away, pulling him toward the interior.

“Liam,” Ren said, craning his neck to check as they ran.

“He’s with Ollie and Darby. He’ll be fine. We have to hide.”

“No, we have to find her.”

Chest heaving, Asher tugged open a door to a stairwell and thrust Ren inside. He closed it behind him, and Ren engaged the electric lock, gagging as he did so.

“She’s hurting you already. Just from taking out the lights and locking a door. Ren… we have to wait for the Corps.”

Ren bent at the waist and sucked in air. “So she can vent them?”

“Better them than us.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “She knows I’m here. She’ll flush us out before VanMeerten’s regiment gets here. And the Corps stationed here are probably already dead or captured.”

As he said it, a loud bang sounded on the other side, and Ren jumped away as more followed.

“They’re ramming the door.” Asher spread his palms against it.

Ren clapped a hand over his mouth as Millicent jumped into the lock and slid into the mechanism. She slammed into Ren, and his throat went tight. He fell to his knees. The lock slid.

The door banged open, and Asher threw his body against it to slam it shut again. He wedged his gun into the door jamb.

“Up!” He tugged Ren to his feet. “Up the stairs.”

They ran. Ren tripped up the steps to the next floor as the door flew open below them. Asher caught Ren’s hand, his grip bruising, and pulled Ren along. Up and up they sprinted. The soldiers followed, only a landing below them.

“I have an idea,” Ren gasped. He furrowed his brow. It would hurt. It would make him sick. But it was better than continuing to run. He flickered into each door they passed and swung it open, hoping to throw the troops off their trail. But each encounter with Millicent’s signature sent a wave of weakness over him.

Panting, Ren stumbled and landed hard on the stairs.

“No stopping,” Asher grunted, hauling Ren up. “Come on. Next one. Next one.”

Chest heaving, legs trembling, Ren scrambled up another set of steps. Asher’s fingers wrapped tight around his upper arm. With a heave, Asher opened the next door, hurled Ren through, and slammed the door behind him.

The floor was empty.

Ren doubled over. “No,” Asher said, striding across the floor. “Cameras,” he said, pointing to the corners. “She knows where we are. Keep moving.”

Ren straightened, features twisted in pain and exhaustion. He’d forgotten how bad Millicent could make him feel, or she’d become stronger—both were possible. “Ash, we can’t run forever.”

“We’re not. We’re buying time.”

“For what?”

“The longer those troops follow us, the better chance Rowan and the others have of escaping.” Asher continued to inspect their location. “And we need to give the Corps a chance to respond.”

Ren screwed up his features. “The Corps? You know we can’t trust them or VanMeerten. Do you honestly think they are going to keep their promise?”

Asher scowled. “No, I don’t. They’ve left me twice, and betrayed us, but I’d rather have them here to take the pressure off of you.” He crossed his arms over his head and took a deep breath. “We need to find a blind spot.”

“There’s not one!” Ren swept his arms out. “She can see us right now. She knows where we are. I can feel her in my head and in my body.” Ren rubbed a spot on his chest. “We’re not going to be able to hide.”

Asher scrubbed a hand over his head. “Why are you so dirt-bent on facing her alone?” His voice came out anguished and sharp. “Don’t you remember the last time?”

“I can’t forget the last time,” Ren said, pointing two fingers at the wound in his side. “I’m the one who died, remember?”

“Yeah, I do!”

Ren frowned. “You agreed to this plan. You were aware of the risks. What? You don’t think I can do it? You don’t think I have it in me?”

“I don’t want to lose you!” Asher crossed the small distance between them and grabbed Ren by the front of his jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.” He ducked his head. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” Ren rested his forehead against Asher’s. “You won’t.”

“How sweet,” Millicent’s voice boomed from the overhead system. Ren startled as she cackled and flooded the drift floor with light, pinning them under the heat and glare. Ren closed his eyes, blocked her out, held on to his last sweet moment with Asher. It didn’t last long as she flickered the lights and laughed over the comm. Asher pulled away first.

“I thought you were dead. You should’ve stayed dead.” Millicent sounded accusatory.

“That’s not how technopaths work, apparently,” Ren said with a wry smile.

“Ren,” she taunted, drawing out the vowel, her voice breathy and eerie, like a ghost or a dream. It sent a shiver down Ren’s spine. “Ren, I have your friends.”

Snapping his head up, Ren looked to the cameras. “What do you want?”

“I can’t have you stopping me, Ren. I have a plan and an army and a purpose.”

“And what is that?”

“You’ll have to come talk to me to find out. Your friends are on level two, waiting for you. I’ll vent them if you don’t hurry.” She laughed. “You know I will.”

Ren nodded. “I know.”

“Here, this will be quicker than the stairwell.” A lift dinged nearby, and the door opened. “You look peaked. Come along, you two. Don’t want to keep me waiting.”

Ren steeled himself and stepped into the lift. Despite his fears, Millicent didn’t drop the elevator out from under them. It descended at a slow pace, but Ren allowed his vision to wash blue, just in case.

Asher’s fingers clasped tight around his. Ren wanted to reassure him, but he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t certain he could stop Millicent. He wasn’t certain he could do what the technopaths in the debris said he could. He only knew that he’d do anything to protect Asher and to save his brother and the others. Rowan had saved him when she didn’t know him, and Ollie had welcomed him when he didn’t have to. Darby stayed in spite of the danger. Penelope healed him. Lucas made him laugh.

Asher loved him.

Ren’s breath caught. He didn’t want to lose them. He couldn’t lose them.

He wouldn’t lose them.

Panic lanced through him as the lift ground to a halt. Ren stalled the doors from opening for a moment and turned to Asher. He gave him a watery smile and kissed his stubbled cheek.

“That better not be a goodbye,” Asher said, softly.

“No, it’s a promise.”

Ren stepped back and let go of Asher’s hand, then he allowed the doors to open.

Guards swarmed the area, all dressed in black with body armor and helmets. They had a group of individuals surrounded off to the side, and Ren immediately recognized Liam among them and Ollie as well. His heart sank.

While the guards on Echo drift were inexperienced and comical, these moved in unison and with a coordination that marked them as well-trained. They encircled Ren and Asher as soon as they stepped from the lift. Hands raised, Ren felt the echoes of their weapons in his body and tamped down the urge to turn them against their owners. He wanted to burn out the power sources and send the guards to their knees in agony through the crackling of electricity. He withheld his power. They weren’t his real enemy.

“I’m here, Millicent. Don’t hurt them.”

She didn’t respond, but she must have sent a communication to the guards. They parted so Ren could see the group they had cornered, though they kept their weapons trained on them. Ollie, Lucas, Pen, and Liam had their hands raised. Rowan wasn’t there. Neither was Darby. Ren’s throat tightened. Had they avoided capture? Were they dead?

Millicent’s voice crackled over the communication system and echoed in the wide space she’d chosen for their confrontation.

“I have your brother,” she sing-songed. “The one you were looking for. I found him for you.”

The soldiers pushed Liam forward, and he tripped his way to Ren and grabbed Ren’s arm. His lip was bloody, and he had a bruise forming around one eye and a singe in his shirt at the upper arm. Ren caught Liam and pulled him close to his side.

“Okay?”

“Not really.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, then was knocked to the side when the guards went for Asher.

“No! What?”

“Our divine leader’s orders,” the leader grunted. They grabbed Asher by the arms, dragged him away, and shoved him into the small group. Ollie caught Asher in a tight hold and glared at the soldiers.

“Let them go, Millicent.” Ren narrowed his eyes.

There was no answer, but the lift on the opposite side of the wide space dinged.

Millicent emerged in a swirl of light. She stepped lightly, her bare feet making no sound on the deck plating, her limbs moving like a puppet with no strings. Her white, formless dress swished about her knees. Her eyes glowed a brilliant blue, and her dark hair fell in tangles down her back to her waist. She lifted her hand, and tendrils of blue snapped from her fingers.

“You can’t stop me,” she said.

Ren gritted his teeth. “I can try.”

She laughed, high and loud, bordering on hysterical. “Why? They took you from your home. They imprisoned you. They tortured you. They killed you. Why stop me from avenging you?”

Straightening his shoulders, Ren dug his fingers into his palms. Sweat beaded along the back of his neck. Anxiety and fear pounded through his body. His breath hitched. “You’re not avenging me. You’re taking revenge.”

“They deserve it for what they’ve done.”

Ren frowned. “You tortured me. You’re the one who turned my dreams into weapons and turned me into a ghost. Should I take my revenge against you?”

She laughed again; her open mouth was a red slash in her pale face and her eyes were wild. “You were weak. Easy.” She waved her hand, and the life support systems flickered in Ren’s middle. “You can try to stop me, but I am a star. You are a human. You made that choice.”

His star was a deep well of power in his chest. He gathered it to him, allowed it to flood through his veins and arteries and mix with his blood. His power was a separate heartbeat, a rhythmic pulse of crackling energy. He channeled his anger and his grief and his happiness and his love until he was consumed. He drew on his panic and his desperation and funneled it into his will.

“No,” Ren said. His voice was static and power. “I’m a supernova.”

Ren released his tight hold, and his star poured outward, the world around him awash in a spectrum of color: reds and blues and purples and darkness as black as the space between the stars in the night sky. Fire and light exploded from his fingertips; electricity arced between his hands, around his torso, and down his legs to the soles of his feet. He tapped into the power of his humanity and into the power of stardust. He dove into the drift’s systems.

Millicent blasted into the circuits to repel him and met Ren with her own surge of power. They clashed within the drift. A wall of blue smacked against Ren’s own nebula of color. Millicent pushed and pushed; her power strained against the torrent of Ren’s own. His stomach roiled, and his head pounded with pain and exertion, but it was secondary to the feeling of being overtaken by the explosion of potential. He overwhelmed the drift’s power structures, driving her out in wave after wave of pure energy. He shone as brightly as an entire galaxy of stars, expanding outward in a detonation of elements and sound and light.

How dare you, she gasped. How dare you!

You can’t push me out this time.

No! she screamed at him, sending a shockwave of sickness, but Ren batted it away.

Then she fled. She raced to life support and cut the systems and Ren repaired them in a blink. She sabotaged the grav and went for the air locks. Ren chased her from system to system, from circuit to circuit, from wire to wire. He chased her until he was stretched from the top of the drift to the bottom, from the docks to the lifts, from the locks to the comms. He swamped every available nook, welled and inundated, battered every system with power, until he controlled everything, and she curled into a small ball of dim light.

Ren wrapped tighter around her, squeezed and squeezed, focused on overwhelming her until she was a speck. And while he choked her, caged her within his supernova, he also expanded, filtered into the ships in the docking bay, and out beyond the confines of the drift into the smattering of satellites caught in the gravitational pull, and farther, into the ships on the outskirts—Phoenix Corps—and into space debris drifting by. He bloomed outward, soundless in the void of space, a shock of reds, blues, purples, and colors undetectable by humans.

She squirmed away, snapping his attention back to her pathetic squiggle of light, and then… she smiled.

Look what you’ve done.

Ren was a collapsing star. He was darkness and light, a supernova, scattering across the cluster in a tumult of creation. He was a concussive force of energy, elements, and color streaking across the night sky. He was the birth of a nebula and the terrifying swirl of a black hole.

He was shaking apart.

Warning alarms blared, and claxons flashed as the drift shuddered and threatened to break. Pieces of the structure snapped off. Cracks appeared in the bulkhead. Wires overloaded, burned, then blackened and twisted. The gravity threatened to fail. Life support sputtered.

“Ren! Ren, you have to stop. You’re going to pull this place apart!”

Disconnected from his body, Ren faintly registered Asher’s hands on his shoulders. He attempted to contain himself, but he was unable to shrink back. He was tearing himself apart, down to his constituent atoms, and he’d take the drift with him. His family would not survive.

He opened his human eyes, his vision filled with a blurred image of Asher’s concerned face. Ren gritted his teeth. “Liam,” he rasped, voice scorched from yelling. He blindly reached out for him and grabbed his wrist where he had his fingers wrapped in Ren’s jacket. “Pull us in.”

“What?”

“Pull us in. Pull us in. Pull us in!”

Liam lunged for Millicent, yanking Ren from Asher’s grasp, and locked a hand around her ankle. Liam’s eyes glowed green.

Ren blinked and fell.

16

Gasping, Ren woke to blinding white. He raised a hand and shielded his eyes as he sat up. He was in a barren cube, surrounded by white walls. He wore a white shirt and white pants and Asher’s jacket. And he wasn’t alone.

Millicent lay prone, dark hair splayed over her. Her white dress blended into the floor creating an illusion that she was only arms and legs.

Ren shuddered and tugged on the collar of Asher’s jacket.

“Hey,” Liam said. He leaned against the wall. “Quick thinking.”

Ren shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the long strands away from his face. He stood, though he was wobbly, and Liam steadied him with a hand to his arm.

“What happened?”

“I don’t really know,” Liam said, arms crossed. “Your eyes went black, and you shook like a leaf in a storm. Then all of a sudden, the drift began to…” Liam made a motion with his hand. “…break apart. Asher grabbed you and yelled a question, and you snapped out of it long enough for this to happen.” Liam swept his hand to encompass the room.

“Not very decorative,” Ren said, conjuring a smile.

Liam smirked. “I didn’t have much time to create anything. This was the best I could do.”

“What do you think is going on… outside?”

“Oh, we’re asleep, on the deck. And hopefully you’ll have stopped destroying everything.”

Ren jutted his chin toward Millicent’s body. “She’s in here with me, which means she can’t pull me into the systems like she did on the Star Stream. I think you stopped me and her.”

“I hope so. That was terrifying. If I hadn’t been so worried about you I would have fled with her guards when they ran.”

“They ran?”

“Oh yeah, as soon as she fell to the floor and curled into a ball. Then the whole place began to quake when you went…” Liam mimed an explosion. “… supernova.”

Millicent groaned, then stretched. She pushed up on her elbows then snapped her head up, palms flat on the slick, white floor. She flailed, then brushed her wild hair back. Her eyes narrowed on Ren, and she moved to a crouch.

“What have you done?” Finding her feet, she swayed, then thrust out her hand. “Why can’t I… where is it?” She patted her hands over her body. “Where is it? I can’t feel it.” She clenched her hands in her hair. “I can’t feel it!”

“Your power doesn’t work here,” Liam said, lazily. “Only mine.”

“Give it back!”

Liam shrugged. “That’s not how it works.”

“You,” She pointed at Ren. “You have ruined everything! Why couldn’t you stay dead? Or stayed away? I wasn’t hurting you. I didn’t want you or your Phoenix or your crew.”

“You endangered us all,” Ren bit out. “Do you think they would leave me alone if you were running rampant, scaring people, venting them, taking over their homes?”

“I did what you wouldn’t.” She crept forward, features twisted in disgust. “The Corps would never leave us alone anyway. And Vos wanted to make us weapons. I broke away when you couldn’t. I took control.

“You killed people.”

“I did what I had to. I escaped Crei. I deceived you. I overthrew Vos. I won.” She laughed. “I won!”

Ren rubbed his brow. “At what cost? You’re alone. You have no crew. You have no family.”

“I am free.”

Ren shrugged. “You’re really not.”

She sniffed. “I have an army.”

“You have zealots who are in awe of you and who ran off the minute you were defeated.”

She cocked her head, gaze flitting between Ren and Liam. “You’ve found your brother. You have your Phoenix. You have what you wanted. Let me go.”

Ren shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“The Corps is evil. You know that. Let me destroy them. Let me finish what I’ve started! Get out of my way!”

Ren sighed. He couldn’t reason with her. She was dead set in her beliefs, immovable as stone, and nothing he could show or prove or say would sway her. She was dangerous—not just in her power, but in her inability to look beyond her own desires. “No.”

She cursed and stepped forward. Her face was a storm cloud. “Then I’ll move you!” She rushed him, hands outstretched, voice caught in a scream.

The dream winked out.

* * *

Groaning, Ren rolled on the drift floor. His whole body ached. His throat felt like dust, and his fingers were numb. His eyelids fluttered, and he squinted in the dim drift lighting.

“Ash?” He worked moisture into his mouth. “Liam?”

With a tortured sigh, Ren squirmed, and found he couldn’t move his arms. Rope dug into his wrists, and his shoulders were taut from being bound behind him. Using his elbow for leverage, he got to his knees and wobbled.

A barrage of clicks sounded.

“Stay where you are.”

Blinking blearily, the shapes around him sharpened into view. Millicent was to his left, similarly bound, but not moving. Liam sprawled next to him. He had electronic clamps around his wrists and his eyes were slits, but he was awake. A regiment of Phoenix Corps surrounded them. They didn’t hold tech weapons—no pulse guns or electric batons. Instead, Ren stared down the barrels of ancient projectile weapons, like the one Zag had used on Crei.

Fear choked him. His heart beat a rabbit’s rhythm. “What’s going on?”

“You’re under arrest.”

Ren shook his head. “No, that’s not right. My brother and I have an agreement with General VanMeerten.” Ren couldn’t see beyond the corporal’s visor, but his hand holding the weapon shook.

“The general ordered us to detain you and prepare you for processing. She gave the orders to use the rope and the pistols.”

Betrayal was a knife between his ribs, a wound in his side, and, despite the outcome being something Ren expected from someone like VanMeerten, it still burned.

“Where’s my family? What have you done with them?”

“They were ordered back to their ship.”

There was a commotion behind Ren, and he craned his neck. He couldn’t see beyond the circle of Corpsmen surrounding him, but he could hear voices. Asher’s and… was that Darby? And Rowan? They were alive? They were safe?

“Let him go!” Rowan commanded.

Ren watched in dazed awe as the group parted when she approached. Her strides were long and purposeful; her blond braid was swinging behind her. Asher marched at one shoulder and Darby at the other. Ren’s gaze settled on Darby. He was startled to see the explosive device in her gloved hand. She saw him and winked.

“Yeah, you heard her. Out of our way and let our friends go, or I might just use this contraption.” She shook it, and the group took a collective breath. She smiled, cheekily. “Oh, so you do know what this is.”

“Release the brothers,” Rowan commanded, stance wide, hands on her hips. She had a bruise on her cheek and a smear of blood along her jawline, but otherwise she was an avenging angel as beautiful as she had been when Ren first saw her on Nineveh.

“Our orders—”

“Your orders are what I tell you,” Rowan snapped, pointing at the corporal. “Understand? No? Ren, show them.”

Ren wrinkled his brow, confused, until he saw the recording device Asher held in his hand—Lucas’s recording of the conversation with VanMeerten and Councilor Morgan.

Oh, he could kiss Lucas. He really could.

Focusing, Ren drew out a tendril of power, directed it at the recording, and fed it into the flashing signage above them. The image of the general and the councilor appeared, and the conversation played. VanMeerten’s voice was loud and clear.

“An honorable discharge for Asher. Credits for Rowan. And a pardon for the technopath and his brother. Warrants and files deleted.”

Ren rewound it and set it on a loop.

“As you can see,” Rowan said, tenting her fingers, “we had a verbal agreement. I intend to see that honored.” She gestured to Darby. “I’d prefer without bloodshed, but I could go either way at this point.”

Darby’s smile went sharp. “I know which way I’d prefer.”

“This is… unorthodox.” The corporal shifted.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I understand. I’d hate to be in your shoes, choosing between releasing a few prisoners or being blown to bits.” She stepped forward. “I’ll sweeten the deal. Let them go. I won’t tell my little friend here to blast us all back to our fundamental elements, and we promise to stick around until your boss gets here. How does that sound?”

“Stand down,” the leader said, raising a hand. “Holster weapons. Release the technopath and the dreamer.”

None too gently, a pair of soldiers jerked Ren to his feet and cut his bonds. Ren released Liam before the soldiers could touch him; the electronic cuffs fell at his feet. Ren rubbed his wrists and unsteadily walked through the crowd of Corpsmen, who eyed him like the danger he was, until he and Liam were quickly enfolded by Asher, Rowan, and Darby and tucked behind them.

“And the girl?” the corporal asked.

Rowan wrinkled her nose. “She’s of no concern to us.” She raised her finger. “But I’d make sure to keep her bound and sedated.”

She turned away and looped her arm through Liam’s while Asher took Ren’s hand. Darby walked backward, hefting the explosive device in her palm until they turned a corner and were out of sight. Then Darby tossed it into a trash receptacle.

“Fake,” she said with a shrug. “All pretty blinking lights and no substance, if you get my drift.”

Ren half-smiled, nodding slowly. Even with Asher’s hand snugly in his, even with Liam at his side, even with Rowan smirking, and with Millicent behind them, captured, and Ren’s freedom bargained for, he didn’t think it was over. It didn’t feel as though he was finished.

“Why the promise to stick around?” Liam asked. “I’d thought we’d teleport out of here as soon as possible.”

Rowan’s expression became more frigid than Ren would have thought possible. “Because I want to look VanMeerten in the eye when I confront her about going back on our bargain.”

Ren shivered.

“Are you okay?” Asher asked.

Ren raised his hand in front of his eyes. “I’m a little disconnected.” And maybe that was what was wrong. He was still in the drift. His power was bleeding out of him with each step he took, emanating from the soles of his feet into the deck plating and into the walls and circuits and systems, stretching out and up and down, repairing his mistakes, rerouting power, fixing, and searching, and—

Asher nudged Ren’s shoulder and tightened his grip on Ren’s hand. “Hey,” he said softly, “come back to me.”

The softness of the touch and the physical response—the blush rising in his cheeks, the stutter of his heart, the warmth in his belly—brought him back to his corporeal form. Yes, yes, this was real. Asher was real, and Ren slotted into his body, his tethers to the drift snapped, and he centered into himself, alive and whole and human.

He smiled. “I’m right here.”

* * *

Back on the ship, there were hugs all around, then medical exams by Penelope. Ollie suffered bruises and a strained back from fighting a squad of troops. Darby had a sprained ankle from when she dove into a trash chute to evade capture. Rowan had a painful graze on her leg, and Lucas showed off a black eye from resisting when Millicent’s force broke into the ship. Otherwise, everyone was fine.

Liam pitched onto the couch in the common room and fell asleep. His snores were an ambient sound when the rest of them gathered around the worn table. Ren traced a scratch with the tip of his finger while he absently ran diagnostics on the ship.

“We’ll send Jakob and Sorcha a message and let them know that Vos plans on returning to Erden to reclaim his fife,” Asher said, sipping a cup of water, one hand firmly clasped in Ren’s. “Maybe we can ask Liam to do it in a dream.”

Darby snacked on an apple. “Who are they?”

“Friends of ours.” Ren smiled softly. “They’ll be able to stop him, I’m sure.”

“Good. He sounds like a cog.”

Ren’s lips twitched into a smile. “He is.”

“And VanMeerten? What are we going to do about her?” Lucas asked. He had his goggles on his head; the skin around his eye was puffed and darkening. “Frankly, I want our credits. We survived all this, and I want to spend some time on a resort drift.”

Liam rolled over. “There are resort drifts?” he asked sleepily. “I wanna go.” Then he snored.

“I’m with him,” Darby jerked her finger over her shoulder.

“Does that mean you’re staying with us?” Rowan asked. “Now that we’re free to drop you off at any drift you’d like.”

Darby tilted her head. “Is that an invitation, Captain?”

“Take it as you will.”

Darby drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ll stay. For now. I don’t know what to say. I like this crew, even the marks and the bunnies.”

“Well, add my vote for resort drift,” Ollie said with a nod. “That’s four.”

Rowan smiled. “As badly as I need a spa day, we still have one last meeting, and I am looking forward to rubbing our success in her smug face.”

“VanMeerten?”

Rowan scoffed. “No, my mother’s.”

“Oh,” Darby said around a bite of apple. “You people still confuse me, but I’m good. There are plenty of places I still need to explore on this drift.”

Penelope raised her finger. “No stealing, please.”

Darby sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. No stealing. This time.”

The chatter continued well into the late hours of drift’s time, but as soon as there was a pause, Ren and Asher stole away.

They stumbled into their room, weary with exhaustion. Ren’s hands shook from the adrenaline drop as his body finally was catching up with the day’s events. Asher pushed Ren against the wall and clenched his fingers into Ren’s hips. His breaths hot on Ren’s neck. Ren trembled.

“Are you okay?” Asher asked, voice pitched low.

“I can’t stop shaking.” Ren laughed. “I’m good though. We won. I won and I’m here. What about you?”

Asher huffed, his cheek rasped against Ren’s, and his voice was breathy in Ren’s ear. “All I could think was that we’d be separated again. That you’d break apart in some effort to stop her. Or you’d be taken away or worse and I’d not be able to stop it. I don’t know what we’d have done if Rowan’s ruse hadn’t… if that soldier hadn’t…”

Ren frowned. He patted the back of Asher’s head. “It worked. It worked, and we’re on the ship, and Millicent is captured, and we’re okay.”

“For now. VanMeerten tried to go back on our bargain already. What if she tries again? What if Rowan can’t stop her?” Asher shook in Ren’s arms; his grip on Ren bordered on painful. “The Corps only takes. They take and take with no regard to anyone and—” Asher choked on air.

Asher’s visceral panic pierced Ren to his core, and he clutched Asher closer. He wrapped his arms tight around his shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay, Ash. It’s okay. We’re together and we’re safe. And our family is safe. Breathe with me.”

Several long minutes later, Asher’s ragged breathing evened out, and he sagged into Ren’s embrace.

Ren allowed his head to thunk against the wall.

“I think,” Asher said, his voice breaking the silence, “that some time on a resort drift is a good idea.”

The knot in Ren’s chest slowly eased. “Understatement.” He sighed. “Ash?”

“I’m fine.” Asher sniffled. “Residual adrenaline and, well, unresolved resentment toward the Corps, but I’m good for now.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced. “Later.” He ran his fingers through Asher’s hair. “We’ll talk later and we’ll address it together.”

Asher nodded. “Together.”

“Until then, how about a shower and a nap?”

Asher gave Ren a weary smile, but one that was genuine and bright. “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

True to Rowan’s prediction, General VanMeerten and Councilor Morgan arrived two days later looking harried and uncomfortable. Called into VanMeerten’s office, the entire crew faced her as she stood behind her desk. Asher’s and Rowan’s mother stood at her side.

She eyed them as if eyeing bugs under glass. Her lip was curled into a sneer; her gray was hair pulled back. She seemed to have aged since the last time Ren saw her; wrinkles were deeper around her eyes and mouth, and her scar was etched down the side of her face. Councilor Morgan was her opposite: impeccably put together, blond-gray hair in an elaborate twist, wearing flowing dove-gray robes.

Rowan stood across from her, decked out in drifter gear with a weapon strapped to her side and at her shoulder and her hair in one long glorious braid.

“You reneged.” Rowan crossed her arms. “At least, you tried to. It didn’t go so well for you.”

VanMeerten’s gaze cut sharply to Ren. He waved, a wiggle of his fingers, and the taut line of her mouth turned down.

“Reports were that my soldiers neutralized the threat, not you, and therefore the deal was off.”

“Your reports were wrong. We,” Rowan said, gesturing to the crew, “neutralized her. Your soldiers swooped in once Millicent was passed out on the deck from our efforts.”

“Sadly, there is no video evidence supporting your claims. All of it was disrupted in some way.” She narrowed her eyes at Ren. “I had to go by my trusted soldiers’ reports.”

“They lied,” Asher said.

“Were they lying when they said the drift went into shutdown and the entire populace almost died. That you yourselves almost died.”

“I fixed it,” Ren said. “And as you can see, the drift is still intact and running without a single hitch.”

“See? We’ve performed more than one service here.” Rowan smirked. “Give us what you owe us.”

Councilor Morgan sighed; her shoulders drooped. “Rowan, Asher, we can work something out, I’m sure. We’ll compromise. Credits are doable, beyond that—”

“No.” Rowan’s glare turned icy. “We want an honorable discharge for Asher and we want Ren and Liam’s files expunged with a promise that the Corps will leave them alone. Those are nonnegotiable.”

“And credits,” Darby coughed into her fist. “Don’t forget the credits.”

“You’ll get credits!” VanMeerten’s chest heaved.

Rowan stalked forward and braced her hands on the edge of the large desk, bending until her face was mere inches from VanMeerten’s.

“Now you listen to me, you hag,” she said, tone full of venom. “I know what you did to my brother. I know the things you put him through as one of your soldiers, leaving him behind, and then sentencing him to a dirt existence when he didn’t fit your mold. And then, you killed our friend, murdered him because you didn’t want to deal with the fact that there are people the Corps cannot control. You couldn’t stop Millicent, despite your assertions, and you couldn’t stop Vos, a measly planetary baron. You’re weak. We know it. And it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows it, unless you give us what we want, which isn’t much in comparison to what you’ve done.”

“Are you blackmailing me, Morgan?” She looked at the councilor. “Are you going to allow your daughter to do this?”

The councilor shrugged. “I have no control over Rowan or Asher. I never did.”

“Ren can tell the cluster, you know. One transmission to every drift and every planet. I don’t need to remind you that we’re trusted in several different locales. One word from us and you’ll have trouble all over.”

That was a lie, but there weren’t enough credits in the world for Ren to point it out. Rowan was fury incarnate, barely contained, and a sight to behold as her glare flayed the recipients to the bone.

“Credits,” VanMeerten ground out. “Honorable discharge. The brothers freed. Records deleted. And we’ll stay off the planets unless called.” She pulled away from Rowan and raised a finger. “But don’t test me, understand? You better fly clean and clear from this point forward.”

Rowan smiled. “You won’t need to worry about us, General. But, just in case,” she pointed to Ren.

On cue, Ren’s eyes glowed blue then darkened to purple. “I’ll be watching.”

“We’ll be watching,” Rowan amended, gesturing to the group of them. “As will the friends we’ve made planet-side and on the other drifts. And don’t think for a second we’ll allow the Corps any leeway whatsoever.”

Asher crossed his arms. “None.”

VanMeerten sneered. “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain.”

“See that you do, General.”

VanMeerten leveled her gaze at Ren. “I hope this was worth it. I hope you got what you wanted.”

Ren smiled. He had Asher at his side and Rowan and the crew at his back and his brother returned to him. Warmth and joy suffused him and nudged aside the fear and panic which had resided in his middle since the outset of his adventure.

“I did.”

She nodded. “Have a good life, star host. I hope to never see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Rowan snapped her fingers and turned on her heel, ending the meeting. The rest of them followed. Ren cast one last look over his shoulder, then turned away, squared his shoulders, and put the Corps firmly behind him.

Asher followed suit. “It’s done,” he said, voice pitched low as they crossed the threshold out of the Corps offices. He blew out a breath, and his body relaxed. “It’s done,” he said again.

“It is,” Ren agreed, taking Asher’s hand, lacing their fingers. “And now we have credits, a pardon, and an honorable discharge to celebrate.”

Asher smiled brightly; the worry that had creased his brow eased away. “That we do.”

Ren laughed and, as they passed a viewing alcove, he paused in front of it, allowing the others to walk ahead, leaving him and Asher alone. Ren looked out at the darkness of space and the bright pinpricks of light stretching across the cluster. He pulled Asher close and kissed him, fervent and happy and free. Asher laughed into his mouth, and they kissed again and clung to each other. Filled with joy and relief, they celebrated in the darkened alcove with the stars their only witnesses.

Epilogue

In the last six months, Ren had perfected the intricate dance of moving about on the drift during the rush times. He no longer bumped into anyone or allowed them to bump into him—Darby had laughed loud and long the first time Ren’s credit chip had been stolen, but then spent a day teaching him how to be on the lookout for “people like her.” He knew his way without getting lost or needing to bleed into the systems and find a map to his and Asher’s home. He’d settled in here, in his environment and in his skin, and only had the occasional hiccup.

Ren slid between a couple arguing and ducked into the lit storefront for the best mechanic and tech support on the entire floor, maybe even the entire drift—him. Asher looked up from a vid screen where he argued with Rowan.

“Is that Ren?” Rowan’s voice came over the screen. “Ask him. He’ll settle it.”

“I’m not asking Ren.” Asher pouted. He tapped the toe of his boot and put his hands on his hips. “I’m right.”

“You’re not!” Lucas’s voice sing-songed from off-screen. “Ask him. He’s a duster after all.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow.

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose. Ren furrowed his brow, stepped behind the counter, and nudged into the frame. His arm was flush against Asher’s.

“What do you need to ask?”

Rowan tapped her mouth with her fingertips. “The tomato—fruit or vegetable? We picked a few up when we dropped off the cargo on Erden—Sorcha says hi by the way—and Penelope is on this kick about all of us consuming better nutrients, especially since she and Lucas have settled on this baby idea and…” Rowan trailed off. “You look unimpressed.”

Ren laughed. “Are you serious? This is what you’re arguing about?” He walked away, waving over his shoulder. “Tell Ollie I’ll have those power sources ready for him next time you’re docked.”

“They’re a vegetable,” Rowan said in a fierce aside.

“Fruit,” Asher said, arms crossed. “And you’re a cog. I have to go.”

“Fine. We’ll be docking at your drift in a few days to pick up our next load. We’ll discuss this more then.”

“Fine.” Asher switched off the screen.

Their place was merely a counter where Asher coordinated shipments for the Star Stream and Ren took orders for repairs. Their back room had a place for Ren to tinker and a set of steps to an upper level which housed their shared apartment. Asher kept his Phoenix Corps uniform in the closet, behind everything, and Ren kept a few trinkets—a shell from the beach by the lake and Liam’s comic book—on the table by the bed. It wasn’t much—a place to eat and sleep and the old couch from the ship with the spring that dug into Ren’s back just so, but it was home.

“Hey,” Asher said, following Ren into the back, “how’d it go?”

Ren sat in his chair, picked up a relay that had seen better days, and passed it back and forth between his hands. “Better. I like her, I think. Much more than the last one who didn’t even believe people like me existed. She gave me some calming exercises that I hadn’t tried before, and we talked.”

“About?”

Ren shrugged. “Panic attacks. Nightmares. Millicent.”

After the confrontation on the drift, Millicent disappeared. Liam tried to reach her once in a dream, with Ren present, but he couldn’t find her. They didn’t know what that meant, but guilt plagued Ren over the outcome of her defeat and capture. It was the way Darby had said, if the Corps wanted someone gone, they were gone.

He cleared his throat. “She’d like to meet my support system next time.”

“Yeah?”

Ren nodded. “Yeah.” And if Asher liked her, maybe he’d start seeing someone too, but one step at a time.

“Okay. I’m glad.” Asher’s mouth ticked up in a smile. “Sorcha says hi in case you didn’t hear.”

“Did Rowan say anything else? Did she see Liam?”

Asher walked all the way into the room and leaned against the wall. He was casual and well-rested and gorgeous. He’d let his hair grow and he’d taken to going on runs in the early morning hours while Ren stayed under the covers. “Sorcha is still leading all the villages. She has some new official title—I didn’t really hear what it was—and Jakob works at her side. She saw Liam, said he helped unload the cargo. He looked good. Happy.”

“Good.”

When Vos returned to Erden, Sorcha was waiting for him, and he was arrested within minutes of his ship touching down, as was Abiathar. His army was given a choice, and to date, most of them have either left Erden or assimilated into the villages.

“The wedding is still on. We’re expected, you know.”

Ren tensed. “I know.”

“You wouldn’t miss Jakob’s wedding, would you?”

Ren snorted.

“And it would be good for you to see Liam for yourself.”

“I talk to Liam once a week, you know that.” Liam’s ability to visit in Ren’s dreams had come in handy more than once, and Ren cherished the relationship they’ve developed. He hasn’t been this close to his brother since they were small, before Ren’s aspirations to leave the planet drove a wedge between them. “You’re often there.”

“Seeing him in dreams is different from seeing him in person.”

“I know.” Ren had a few hang-ups about going back to Erden: bad memories and bad feelings. Liam had gone home after their week-long stay on the resort drift and tugged Darby along with him. Darby didn’t stay—too much dirt—and soon was back in the stars floating in and out of their lives as she pleased—sometimes assisting Rowan, sometimes helping Ren and Asher, but always looking for her next thrill. After she’d find it, she’d return to the family that had accepted her, either the Star Stream or to the drift and the small room she rented on the same floor as their shop. “I’ll think about it. Let’s see what the new therapist says. It’s not for a few more months, right?”

Asher nodded. “Surprisingly adult of you.”

That startled a laugh out of Ren and Asher’s smile grew into a real one. “You were the one who was arguing with his sister about tomatoes. I don’t want to hear anything about maturity from you.”

Asher chuckled. “Point taken.” He uncrossed his arms and nodded toward the mess on Ren’s work desk. “By the way, you have a few new jobs. A ship that just docked is having trouble with its air recycler, and a restaurant needs something repaired in the kitchen.”

“Is that your subtle way of telling me to get to work?”

Asher rolled his eyes. “That’s my subtle way of reminding you that you’re doing well here. Your business is steady. You have a caring and handsome boyfriend and a family of oddballs who love you. I know how your thoughts get after appointments sometimes, and you need reminders.”

Ren smiled softly. “You have a handsome and caring boyfriend, too, you know. And he is very happy about where he is and how everything turned out.”

“He better be,” Asher said, abandoning all pretense and stalking across the small distance between them. He tilted Ren’s face up and kissed him softly.

Ren pressed his smile to Asher’s lips. Yes, he still had nightmares and panic attacks. Asher’s shoulder ached on bad days. They fought about silly things and serious things, but always made an effort to make up. Their place was cramped, and their shower didn’t always work, and there were days it was difficult for Ren to get out of bed and days when Asher stared at the uniform in the back of their closet.

But this—right here—Asher and him living together on a drift with their family safe and happy on ships and planets—that’s what Ren always wanted.

And he finally had it.

Everything else was stardust.

About the Author

F.T. Lukens is an award-winning author of Young Adult fiction who got her start by placing second out of ten thousand entries in a fan-community writing contest. A sci-fi enthusiast, F.T. is a longtime member of her college’s science-fiction club. She holds degrees in Psychology and English Literature and has a love of cheesy television shows, superhero movies, and writing. F.T. lives in North Carolina with her husband, three kids, and three cats.

Her novel, The Rules and Regulations of Mediating Myths & Magic, won many awards, including the 2017 Foreword INDIES Gold Award for Young Adult Fiction and the 2017 IBPA Benjamin Franklin Gold Award for Best Teen Fiction.

Broken Moon Extras

Darby

Darby never had a place to settle. She didn’t stick in any one environment for too long, choosing instead to drift from situation to situation, never wearing out a welcome, and never risking becoming mired in someone else’s conflicts. She never became accustomed to the gravity of a drift or a planet, or, to use a duster’s term, she didn’t put down roots. Darby was a cosmic speck wandering around the system as a free particle until her inevitable disintegration. That was her plan. That was her life. That was what had kept her sharp, free, and alive for as long as she’d been. She’d accepted that at a young age.

But when she happened to bump into a few other specks of space dust then suddenly her life changed. She’d clumped together with those other wandering bits and had coalesced into a star. She never imagined how stealing onto a ship and encountering a mythical being, a Phoenix Corps soldier, and a crew that took kidnapping to the nth degree would change everything so completely, could change her so completely. But it had. She did. And to her utter surprise, she didn’t mind it. Not much.

Tugging on the lapels of her jacket, Darby wove through the traffic of her home drift. Home drift. What a weird thought. What a novel concept. A home. She’d rented a room a few doors down from the best mechanic and tech support on the entire drift, her friend, Ren. His partner, Asher, coordinated and ran the drift side of business for the Star Stream and her crew. She helped them when they needed her specific brand of skills and, when they didn’t, she ran her own side jobs. Nothing in competition with Rowan of course, and nothing that would draw attention such as explosions, but not everything was completely legal either. Old habits were hard to break. Information gathering and manipulation were marketable skills, and she was good at it, so she might as well use it to make a pile of credits.

“Hey, you!”

Darby’s gaze sliced to her left. She’d had her hat, one knitted by Pen, tugged low over her ears; a few strands of her black and purple hair peeked out. She wore the collar of her jacket flipped up.

She narrowed her eyes. She recognized the speaker, a guy she used to run with called Jer, but she didn’t react to the summons other than to slow her brisk pace and arch an eyebrow.

“Darby? Is that you?”

Edging out of the current of people on the walkway, Darby eased to Jer’s side. There was always a shiver of fear at being recognized, as if all the things she’d done were catching up with her in the quirk of a guy’s mouth, but there was always a promise of some adventure, too, the thrill of a new job.

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you doing, Jer?”

“Good. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Jer stood taller than her, as most people did. He angled his body toward her, kept his hands in his pockets, and didn’t offer a handshake or a hug, which Darby appreciated.

She wasn’t a fan of hugs. She didn’t mind them from Ollie and she tolerated it when Lucas draped a friendly arm over her shoulder while regaling her with epic stories from the crew’s adventurous past, but that was her new life. Jer was her past life and he was as prickly and ill-at-ease as she was.

“Doing well. In town for a blip.” He jerked his head toward the docking bay. “On a crew for now.”

She nodded. “On the up and up?”

“Mostly. You?”

“Mostly.”

“Yeah,” he ducked his head and rubbed a gloved hand over his spiky hair. “I actually heard a rumor about you.”

Darby’s eyebrows ticked up in surprise. She’d made a habit of flying below the radar so for her name to be brought up was disconcerting. “Yeah?”

“Heard you’re running with Rowan Morgan’s crew.”

Darby licked her lips. “Sometimes.”

“They’re wild. Chatter is they were mixed up in something big with the Corps and with that technopath that was running loose and destroying drifts. I heard they went toe to toe with the Corps and won, and that’s after they escaped Perilous Space. Is that…” he trailed off and dropped his voice. “Is that all true?”

Over a year had passed, and Ren’s shenanigans were still talked about as the hot gossip. Whispers traveled fast, and, the more they were told, the more outrageous they became. But the more they were spoken, the more they were taken as truth. Whispers turned to legends. Darby hoped the legends would become myths soon, because myths, regardless of truth, were distant fantasies, while legends were dangerous.

She scoffed. “Are you serious? You believe that dirt?”

He blinked. “Not all of it. But enough people are saying it.”

“If enough people told you moon rocks were cheese, would you eat them?”

Jer rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Then don’t believe malfunctions were technopaths. The Corps is coggin’ evil, don’t disbelieve that, and Rowan’s crew is impetuous to a fault, but they’re not myths. They’re only people who do their best.”

Jer raised his hands. “Never heard you so defensive of anyone.”

Oops. She’d accidentally shown too much. Shrugging, she checked drift time on the overhead boards. She had to get a move on or she was going to be late. “Nah. I just don’t want to get on Rowan Morgan’s bad list.”

“Yeah?”

Darby nodded. “Yeah. She’s fairly ruthless, especially when it comes to anything that threatens her crew.”

Jer’s forehead crinkled. He bit his lip. Ugh. She’d forgotten how cute he was, though red-haired dusters who could walk in dreams tended to be her type these days, even if the feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“Do you think you could put in a good word for me?” His gaze darted to the side. “I wouldn’t mind being on a crew like that.”

Darby was rarely caught off-guard, but Jer’s sudden wistful expression breaking through his customary aloofness struck a chord. It was like looking at a past version of herself, a vision from the few months before she’d met Ren over the com system of the ship, when she stubbornly clung to her loneliness like a forcefield, blocking out anything that could be considered an entanglement.

Darby pursed her lips. “When I see her again, I’ll see if she needs someone with your particular skills.”

Jer smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. No funny business though. She’d blast you without a thought.”

“Cross my heart,” Jer said, crossing his fingers over his chest, then holding them up. “On my honor.”

“Yeah, don’t swear on what you don’t have, but here, give me your com number.”

They exchanged contact information. Darby walked away, unsure whether she would pass on his information to Rowan, since she hadn’t seen Jer in quite a while and what she remembered was hardly glowing recommendation material. But everyone deserved second chances, right?

She took the lift down, glad it wasn’t as crowded as the walkways, and stepped off on the floor nearest the space docks. As she approached the mechanic shop, the line waiting for service snaked from the counter around the corner.

Oh, great. She wasn’t the only one who was going to be late.

She sidled onto the end of the line behind two spacers. Craning her neck, she could see most people holding slips in their hands. Okay, pickups. They were much faster than repair orders.

“I can’t believe this guy has so much business. There are five other mechs on this drift, but this place always has a line.”

Darby’s ears pricked up at the conversation in front of her. She angled her body nonchalantly to hear while keeping an eye out.

“He’s cheap,” the other spacer said. “And he’s fast.”

“Cheap and fast doesn’t mean quality.”

The other guy rocked back on his heels. “He has a five-star rating, and the chatter is good. I’ve heard no complaints.” He dropped his voice and leaned in, and Darby shuffled closer. “Rumor is he has some special sense of what needs fixing.”

Darby bit back her sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. To the stars, laying low was not Ren’s strong suit. No wonder Asher hovered like he did.

“Really? Like a technopath?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh. You know there was one that escaped Perilous Space about a year ago. My cousin was on one of the drifts they attacked.” He craned his neck to glimpse the counter.

“I heard it was two of them and they fought each other.”

“For real?”

Another person tried to join the line and Darby shot them a glare so sharp they backed away. She crossed her arms as the group shuffled forward.

“True. But I also heard he’s a duster. How would a duster get so good as a mech if he’s not some kind of technopath?”

“Good point. Has anyone reported him? Wouldn’t the Corps be interested?”

Darby shook her head. Oh, little did this spacer know. Time to step in though, to keep the conversation from getting out of hand. Time for an interruption. She knocked her elbow into the spacer’s side. “You know his partner is ex-Corps, right?” He stiffened as Darby forcibly inserted herself into their conversation. His eyes narrowed, he looked down at her. “Do you think a Phoenix and a Host would willingly run a business together?”

They exchanged a glance. “Who are you?”

“Loyal customer,” she said, flashing a wide smile. “I appreciate good work. Anyway, if there was anything to be reported, his partner would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Untruth. Asher held a grudge against the Corps a parsec long, not to mention that he would protect Ren to his dying day, but they didn’t need to know. Fact manipulation was another one of her specialties.

“I guess so.”

“I know so. I’ve been coming to this shop for a year now, because my boss won’t deal with anyone else.”

“See?” his friend said, pointing to the counter. “I told you this place was the best.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh yeah,” Darby cut him off, “totally the best. Oh, man,” she said, tilting her chin to the board above them, “the Comets lost. Robbed again I’m sure.”

“What? Already?”

“Aw, dust. I had credits on that game.”

“Man, they never should’ve fired their coach last year.”

Redirection was a tried and true method. And with one tiny nudge, they were off on a tangent about the local drift’s spaceball team and not talking about Ren having special powers. Her stomach unclenched as the line moved forward, and she dropped her crossed arms. She did ward off another person who wanted to join the line by shaking her head and pointing to drift time.

When she made it to the counter, she was officially late. So were Ren and Asher.

“Darby!” Ren smiled as he beckoned her into their apartment. He set the forcefield around the outside of the shop, then followed her inside the adjoining living space. He looked good, better than when she’d first met him, even though he was still a rail. The shadows under his eyes had cleared. His cheeks were filled out. He stood taller and he’d lost that hunted look he had the first few months after they’d moved to the drift.

“We’re late.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging into a jacket, Asher’s jacket if she remembered correctly. “I know.”

“Also, you need to charge more.” She said, leaning on the wall. “The talk in your line is that you’re too cheap and too fast. It makes people suspicious.”

Ren crinkled his nose just as Asher joined the conversation.

“Thank you,” Asher said. “I’ve been saying that for a year.” He came down the stairs from their bedroom while buttoning a shirt that she’d never seen him wear. While Ren had remained thin, Asher had bulked up considerably in the time she’d known him. His shoulders were broad, and the shirt barely contained his biceps. She knew he went for runs around the drift in the early morning and when he couldn’t sleep. He must also work out in the heavy grav chamber too. Asher wound a scarf around his neck, obviously something Pen had made.

Ren pushed his dark hair off his forehead. “I don’t want to lose customers.”

“Let’s talk about this on our way.” Asher placed a hand on the small of Ren’s back, guiding him out of the apartment. Ren’s eyes flashed as he set the electronic lock. “We’re already late.”

“You won’t lose customers,” Darby said, falling in step beside them as they walked briskly. “Not the ones that matter anyway.”

“She’s right, you know.”

The corner of Ren’s mouth ticked up. “When did you two become friends?”

“We’re not.” Darby flashed Asher a grin. “We’re just mutually invested in your well-being and we’re right.”

“What did you hear in the line?” Asher asked, amusement vanishing. “Anything we should worry about?” His shoulders tensed. Ren’s mouth went flat. Both were on alert in an instant—a symptom of their past, even after a year. She wondered if it would ever leave them, that quick lurch to fear at the smallest provocation. She doubted it, but she’d do her best to ease it when she could.

“I took care of it.” Darby tugged on her hat. “Just charge more and slow down. And maybe have Asher wear some Phoenix memorabilia every now and then.”

They both gave her a confused look, but she didn’t elaborate. She tipped her head back, shoved her hands in her pockets, and enjoyed their playful bickering as they walked.

They were thirty-five minutes late when they ambled into the restaurant and were guided to the back room. Once they entered, the group at the long table erupted.

“Okay, who had thirty-six minutes and thirty seconds late?” Lucas called, checking a timer. “I think that was you Ollie.”

Ollie leaned back in his chair. “Excellent. I do enjoy a free meal.”

“Did you bet on how late we’d be?” Ren asked, feigning insult.

“It’s Ren’s fault,” Darby said, accepting a hug from Pen and a head pat from Lucas. She settled in the chair next to Ollie, who nudged a plate of something fried in her direction. She snagged one and popped it in her mouth.

Brushing her long blond braid over her shoulder, Rowan propped her elbows on the table. “And why are you late this time, brother? More…” She coughed lightly. “…recreational activities?”

Blushing brilliant red, Asher jabbed a finger at his sister. “No. It wasn’t like that. Ren wouldn’t close the shop.”

“I had customers!”

“He did have customers,” Darby said, reaching across Ollie’s arm to grab the pitcher of beer. “Though Ash was buttoning his shirt when I walked in.”

The glare Asher shot her was truly murderous, and Darby cackled as the rest of the group dissolved into laughter.

“Glad to see you, Darby,” Rowan called from the head of the table. “I hope you’re keeping yourself out of trouble.”

Darby gave a sloppy salute and winked. “Of course, Captain. Squeaky clean nowadays.”

Rowan’s lips twitched. “I highly doubt that but I’m happy you joined us.”

“Happy to be invited, Captain.” The sincerity in her own tone surprised her, but whatever, she was among friends.

“Always,” Rowan said, with a sharp nod. “Now, to business.”

The group lingered over dinner for hours, eating and drinking, laughing at each other, and telling jokes and stories. Darby immersed herself in it, drank too much beer, ate too much food, and even allowed Lucas to convince her to try a syrupy dessert that clung to her teeth. Once the bill was paid, they meandered out as a group, then broke off to their various locations. Darby knocked hard into Asher’s arm and gave Ren’s forearm a squeeze as she headed to her own space.

“Night, Darbs,” Ren said, smiling, cheeks flushed, Asher’s hand laced in his. “Don’t stay away too long.”

“See you soon,” she said with a wave over her shoulder. She planned to drag him to lunch later in the week after she’d researched the other mechs on the drift, and together they’d readjust his prices. She’d rather have rumblings over higher costs than about special powers.

Steps light, Darby turned the corner toward her own small apartment. Yeah, she was a speck of cosmic dust, but a lucky one that had found a cluster of like-minded particles to cling to. They’d coalesced into a group that pulsed as warm as a star, and she’d do her part to keep them all safe, especially the specks that tended to shine too brightly. That was her job, and she’d keep doing it until her inevitable disintegration. Until then, she was stardust.

Character Design: Ren

Character Design: Asher

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