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  “You want to leave them behind?”

  “It’s after you, not them, remember? And Jetsun and Renzo are surrounded by patrol and Sava surveillance, you know that as well as I do.”

  Theron snorted a little, but he didn’t argue the point.

  Is that true? Sydel wondered. What else is being hidden from us all?

  “Use your connections,” Phaira continued. “If you wanted cybernetic enhancement, where would you go? Have you heard of it before this incident?”

  “Not much,” he admitted.

  “Not much is more than I have,” Phaira said. “Where have you heard of it?”

  “Just rumors, within the syndicate.”

  “So let’s go digging,” Phaira said.

  “You’re willing to do that?”

  “This was my idea, remember?”

  A long pause. Sydel glanced back at the cockpit. She wondered if she should sneak away, or make her presence known.

  “You need to sleep first, Phaira.”

  “I'll sleep when -”

  “I mean it. No more injections.” Theron’s voice was gentler than she’d ever heard.

  Of course. Phaira had been using REM injections since the incident on the Arazura. The benefit of a few hours of sleep in ten minutes, designed for one-time use by long-term travelers or on military missions. Sydel had seen several injector addicts, working with Emir in the north. And Phaira had the same look as many of them: the smudge of muddy-purple under each eye, the unnatural sheen to her skin. Why hadn't Sydel realized it before?

  “You do that,” Theron continued. “I’ll determine where we are in the trajectory, and where the ideal place is to drop.”

  Sydel heard Phaira exhale. “Fine. But don’t go without me. I mean it. I’ll find you if you do.”

  Theron didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were strong enough to float through Sydel’s mind.

  You always do.

  * * *

  A shrill alarm jarred Sydel from sleep. She had slumped over, against the wall of her shared bunk, asleep without even knowing it.

  As Sydel ran into the corridor, she caught sight of CaLarca, braced at the entrance to the cockpit. “What is that? Another breach?” the woman cried out.

  Sydel reached out with her mind, searching for bodies and minds on board. There should be five, but two were moving farther and farther away.

  She ran into the cockpit and peered through the windshield.

  Two blue parachutes, disappearing into the clouds.

  She laughed, a short, surprised bark.

  Then she laughed again at the automated message that scrolled across the console: Stay airborne. No calls. Back soon.

  “What is it?” CaLarca had followed her. “Is that- what are they doing?”

  “Leaving,” Sydel said. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

  “They just left? Without telling us?”

  “Seems that they did.”

  “And I’m just to continue flying around in circles?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Do you not find it slightly frustrating,” CaLarca said, sitting down hard in her seat and smacking her fist on the console, “that she keeps leaving us behind to fend for ourselves?”

  “She’s not thinking of us,” Sydel said. “She’s thinking of him.”

  CaLarca said nothing, but she gripped the controls with enough force to strangle a person.

  Sydel stared at the clouds and smiled a little. Phaira and Theron. Unexpected. But at the same time, not. How curious.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Should she say what she knew? Sydel had a strange urge to share in her glee, to gossip just a little about something other than death. “Phaira and Theron.”

  “What about them?”

  “When you clear away all the complications, they do seem to be an uncanny fit.”

  CaLarca made a face. “Those two? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why is it ridiculous?”

  “Well, they’re both criminals, to start,” CaLarca sneered. “And self-absorbed, and full of excuses, so I suppose, yes, they might be perfectly happy together, killing anyone who doesn’t agree with them. If it's anything between them, it’s lust and boredom, nothing else.”

  Sydel glared down at CaLarca. “And you are so certain, of course.”

  “I’m far older than you. And married for nearly your lifetime. I know of what I speak.”

  But Sydel's temper had been shaken loose. “So there’s only one true kind of love, then? Your arranged, very convenient, very dull marriage with Ganasan?”

  CaLarca started, as if shot. “Don’t you dare to -”

  “I can, and I will,” Sydel interrupted. “Phaira is my friend. Don’t speak ill of her.”

  At one time,” CaLarca reminded her. “We were friends, too. I told you things I never told anyone else, I let you see into my mind and my memories.”

  “You used your confessions to manipulate me,” Sydel retorted.

  “I did,” CaLarca admitted. “I’ve grown to regret those choices.”

  “How useful for you, given that you have no place to go.”

  The sharp words were like knives, flung from her hip. Sydel felt a twinge of regret, at the pain she saw in CaLarca’s eyes.

  Then CaLarca lifted her chin. “We have an agreement, my husband and me. If there were ever danger, from the NINE or any other threat, we would separate and go into hiding, and make contact when it’s safe. I’m waiting for his signal. It’s as simple as that. And if I have a place to stay in the meantime, then why not?”

  “What’s going on?” came Cohen’s panicked voice from the doorway. “What’s that alarm?”

  CaLarca glanced over her shoulder. “Your sister is sleeping with Theron Sava,” she informed him.

  Cohen’s chin jerked back. He looked to Sydel for confirmation. Taken aback, she felt her face flush, and she could only lift one shoulder in response.

  Cohen blinked, and blinked, and finally turned on his heel and exited.

  “You are a terrible person,” Sydel hissed at CaLarca, following him outside. “The sooner you leave, the better.”

  Cohen was waiting for Sydel in the corridor. “Did they really leave us behind?” he asked her, with equal parts frustration and sadness, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest.

  She put her hand on his bicep. “Yes."

  He huffed. “Never good enough, are we?”

  “That’s not what’s going on,” Sydel soothed. “Trust me.”

  “Where are they going?”

  “Back to Lea, I believe.”

  Cohen’s eyes flashed. “Then so do we. They can’t just abandon us whenever they want. We have stakes in this. Lives we’re trying to return to. It’s not just about him.”

  Lives to return to.

  He was going back to Toomba, to the grandmother, and the militia. Of course he was, she knew that he was, but for some reason, the news still stunned Sydel.

  There was another beep, from deep inside the cockpit. Another call. Reluctantly, Cohen and Sydel ducked their heads in to hear the connection made.

  “Is CaLarca there?” Anandi again.

  CaLarca sat up straight in the pilot’s seat, her black eyes wide. “Yes,” she finally spoke. “Just tell me. Ganasan was captured?” The words were slightly strangled.

  “No.”

  Everyone turned to the speakers.

  “I’m so sorry,” Anandi was sputtering. “I’m so sorry to be the one to send you this, but…”

  A translucent screen unzipped above the console, a grainy picture growing clearer.

  Two bodies, burned beyond recognition.

  The shape of a man, and a child.

  A loud bang echoed through the cockpit, as CaLarca slid from her seat to the floor.

  PART FOUR

  I.

  When the call disconnected, it took a long time for Renzo to speak again, anger burning in his chest.

  “Kuri,” Renzo
finally spat out. “What do you know?”

  In the co-pilot seat of the Arazura, Jetsun’s perfect face seemed to crumble, just a little. She quickly slid it back into place and tossed back her hair. “Not much.”

  “What - do - you - know?” Renzo snapped, emphasizing each word. There wasn’t time for her stupid, haughty behavior. Bad enough that she’d called him, whining about the heat and asking for a pick-up, when the Arazura wasn’t even fully repaired yet.

  Jetsun lifted her chin, though her eyes remained down. “From what I understand,” the woman finally said, “a trade was made in Toomba, when you and your family captured Kuri Nimat, and when he was sent into the mountains. Theron took custody of him.”

  “Why?”

  Jetsun’s golden eyes flickered to the left. “Information.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Where is his body? Did you dump it in the river or something?”

  “I don’t dispose of bodies,” Jetsun snapped. Then she sobered. “But I have an idea. You have to understand, when Iyo Sava died, and Theron was announced as the successor, he disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “We couldn’t find him for five days. Bianco was going crazy. We had people everywhere looking for him. One of his bodyguards finally tipped us off. Theron had drafted him for a specific project, which had just ended. Then Theron emerged, ready to take the helm.”

  “And what was he doing in those five days?”

  “I’ve never quite had the courage to ask. But the bodyguard, Grey, he did tell me where they had been.” She gestured at the Arazura console. “Though we can’t go in this. Too conspicuous, plus it will sink in the mud. I can have a towncar here in thirty minutes.”

  “Why didn’t you do that in the first place?”

  Again, the woman’s face faltered a little. “Maybe I didn’t want to be alone.”

  Renzo cast her a sidelong look. Then he let it go. “Fine. Call whoever, and - ”

  “Come with me to the skerries?”

  “Which ones?” Renzo asked, surprised. “In Lea? Why?” Lea was one of three coastal cities affected years ago, he remembered, when a meteor broke into three parts in the atmosphere, hit the ocean, and swallowed up miles of inland cityscape. The leftover, abandoned buildings, the sunken streets, five miles inland in each city were now walled off, and referred to as the skerries. He’d only seen the ones in Daro, his hometown, and then only from a distance.

  “Just come with me? Please?” There was a hint of plaintiveness in that request.

  Renzo stared at her. “You guys have secret bases there or something?”

  “Or something." Jetsun stared through the windshield of the Arazura. "So I’ve been told.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Cohen and Sydel managed to keep the ship on autopilot, and entered in the coordinates for Lea, the center of the capital city. CaLarca was no help; she had been sitting in the corner of the cockpit for the past hour, her head in her hands.

  “I had an idea.” Cohen said under his breath to Sydel. “About the Red. You’re not going to like it, though.”

  “Just say it.” CaLarca's voice was a low, drunken mumble.

  “Phaira shot that Red before, and it did no good. But in Kings Canyon, you guys could infuse weapons, right? With energy, so they were more powerful? Maybe it’s the kick needed to make an impact.” He glanced at Sydel again. “Have you ever fired a gun before?”

  Sydel shuddered. “No, and I don’t dare to.”

  “I could do it, I guess, if you get it ready for me.”

  “It won’t be the same,” Sydel interrupted. “Huma told me. Even if I infuse it, when I pass it to you, it immediately starts to lose its power.”

  “I will do it.”

  Sydel and Cohen turned to stare at CaLarca, who had risen to stand. Her braids were a mess, her white face was flush, but her black eyes were dead.

  “You just channel Nadi into a firearm,” CaLarca stated, her voice a monotone. “And then fire. That’s it?”

  “Yeah, but have you ever fired a gun before?” Cohen asked.

  “No. What do you have on board?”

  Cohen frowned. “Not much. My Vacarro, but I don’t think a sniper rifle is going to work. You need something small, but powerful.”

  Phaira has her guns somewhere, right?” Sydel suggested. “The Calises? I haven’t seen them in a while, but…”

  Cohen made a face. “You don’t want to touch those things. The kickback is brutal, it’ll dislocate your arm. The only reason she hangs onto them is because she's sentimental.”

  The three looked at each other, and all seemed to have the same thought at the same time. Theron must have something, somewhere, stored on this ship. But they would have to go digging into all corners. He wouldn't like that.

  “I don’t care,” CaLarca’s voice broke through Sydel's thoughts. “Let him hate us. I’ll find something to use. Just teach me.”

  She was quiet for a few moments. “If I’m focused on infusing,” she started again, “it means I can’t split my efforts. Last time, I caught the energy around its body, and kept it in place until everyone could get into the escape pod. I can’t do that if I’m doing this.”

  “Then I will,” Sydel said. “Though I’ve only ever generated within. I haven’t actively tried to control another person’s Nadi before.”

  CaLarca’s eyes glittered, in a way that made Sydel want to run. “Then I will teach you.”

  * * *

  When Phaira and Theron landed on the city outskirts, abandoning their parachutes, they quickly set off for the nearest town. A few connections, and they were finally on the bullet train, zipping through the landscapes, on the way back to Lea. Private cabin, Phaira had insisted. And when Theron protested, she pointed out that she was paying for it, so his bank activity couldn’t be traced. She did her best not to wince at the amount of rana she had to hand over.

  Now she sat with a bottle in hand, sipping at the bittersweet cider. Cold lips, cool palms. Taking stock of her surroundings. As long as she kept her back to the wall and her eyes on the door, they should be safe as they worked out their plan. She wondered when this was all going to stop. How this was all going to end up. She wasn’t particularly afraid of death, but it was more the burning curiosity to understand the threat in its entirety. She couldn’t die without taking that thing with her.

  “Don’t you want a glass?” Theron was asking her. He was seated across from her, one long leg folded over the other, arm stretched along the back of the seat. Only his foot, bouncing just a little, gave away his anxiety.

  She tipped the bottle in his direction. “Maybe you should have one.”

  Theron shook his head, watching the landscape outside. They had one hour before they hit Lea. It seemed like a thousand, stretching ahead. This was all I wanted, not so long ago, she reminded herself. But she felt weirdly shy, now that it was just the two of them. When there was no physical affection, what else was there?

  Somehow, her mouth opened, and she began to ramble, to fill up the empty space. She told him about what she’d experienced over the past weeks. That interrogation room with Ozias and the shape-shifting Kuri; spending the night in Jetsun’s apartment; Yann and the officers descending on Toomba, held back by the mountain militia, which Cohen had apparently joined. How CaLarca was still living with them, yes, but it was only a shaky alliance in order to root out the rest of the NINE; how Phaira hadn’t trusted the green-haired woman from the start, and she still didn’t.

  He listened without commenting. His golden eyes flicked over to hers every once in a while, but then returned to stare out of the window.

  Finally, she ran out of things to say. Only fifteen minutes had passed. Now what? Cheeks burning, she slumped down in her seat and activated her Lissome and spread out the digital details of every death in front of her, scanning each picture, looking for something other than the obvious connection
to Theron. Bodyguards. The guests at the party. Bianco.

  “Tell me about Bianco.”

  “He was my grandfather’s closest friend. Often the one paying attention to me and my cousins, when Iyo was busy. Tough, and frustrating, and stubborn.” He paused then. “Why?”

  “Did he support you?”

  “How do you mean?”

  ‘Was he on your side, so to speak?”

  “Well, yeah. When my grandfather died, he became my advisor. His sole purpose was to make me a leader.” Phaira caught the sarcasm in that statement. “Why?”

  Phaira revolved the pixelated image to face Theron: a mass of blackened bone and ashes. “His death was different from the others. They were all left with lethal wounds, left to bleed out and be discovered.”

  “He was in pieces,” Theron corrected.

  “But his corpse was also burned in the alleyway,” Phaira pointed out the charred remains. “Why the extra step?”

  Theron was silent.

  “That’s our first stop in Lea,” Phaira finished, sweeping all the projections back into the Lissome. “His place. I want to know all about him.”

  “Maybe he fought back, and it made the Red angry,” Theron said. “He wasn’t a pushover. And he was the most loyal man I’ve ever met. ”

  “Stop being sentimental; you didn’t like him, anyways.” Phaira retorted. “And what’s loyalty mean in your family?”

  That stung him. But he didn't deny her words.

  She leaned forward, her wrists on her knees, her head tilted so she could look into his eyes. “Hitmen don’t just strike without researching every minute detail. This Red knew your schedule, your set-up, where you live. How did they know any of it? Someone is talking, and maybe it was Bianco. I’ve thought so for a while now.”

  Theron didn’t say anything.

  “It breaks the rules, right?” she queried. “Tarnishing his memory?”

  “It’s not quite that dramatic,” Theron said dryly. “But people were more loyal to him than they ever were to me.”