“That it’s your spindle he’s talking to. This is your spindle now. We’re never going to be assigned different spindles again.” She held his hand and he threaded their fingers together.

  He lifted their hands to his mouth and kissed the back of hers, neither of them breaking their eye contact until Corto ran back to the table, as white as the snow cat must have been.

  “What’s wrong?” Troylus asked, releasing her hand and beginning to stand from the table.

  “It,” he started and had to take another breath before he finished. “One of the damn purple light things that turns solid, attacked someone while they were building a house at one of the other spindles.”

  She couldn’t breathe, and all the small hairs on her body stood up.

  “They died. It killed them.”

  “Did they have silver eyes?” Imogene asked.

  Chills rolled in waves down Zellendine’s skin, and she knew before he said it.

  “No, they didn’t.”

  30

  Briar

  “Which one are they in?” he asked, curling his hands into fists as they itched to burst into flames.

  Grandpa Kason glanced at him and pretended he didn’t, going back to staring out the window of the gathering room as the spindles left the ship and separated from each other.

  “I’m not sure. I would have to check,” the old man said.

  Briar tried to remember which ones stayed on the planet. His family was on spindle three, but which position was it in? Were both the first two spindles on the ground? The last two? It made it worse, like this was another fresh punishment he didn’t deserve, not to know which one to look for.

  “And what’s the region like, the one they’re settling in?”

  Grandpa Kason turned from the window entirely, his mouth open a fraction.

  “Didn’t you ask your fathers?” He screwed his mouth up to the side like he didn’t believe what Briar said.

  No sign of trust from Grandpa Kason, of all people, made Briar’s ability spark in his palms, but he closed his eyes and shoved it back down.

  “You locked me in quarters, remember? I can’t say shit to my family because you don’t want me to, remember?”

  The old man turned away and squared his shoulders, making years of age fall from him in the process, and Briar’s fists clench even harder.

  “When the time comes, you’re going to settle in a beautiful region with many lakes.”

  Lakes. Grandpa Kason was going to settle him in an area full of water.

  He laughed, the sound dark and sharp at the edges.

  “And I’m supposed to keep believing this plan of yours if you’re going to send me from one kind of lock up to another?” he asked, under his breath, and still Grandpa Kason’s gaze scanned the room, as if the few there to watch the launch of the spindles would care what they were talking about.

  “No one cares what I say, they all think I’ve lost my tether, thanks to you.” He didn’t bother the hide the sneer to go with his false gratitude. Grandpa Kason had fooled everyone, including him, but the old man was far from a fool. And Briar wanted him to know that it wasn’t a secret anymore, at least to him.

  “Tell me, Grandpa Kason, wise leader of this Chapter.” He paused until eyes, shrewd even through the heavy wrinkling of the skin around them and the slightly off color to the whites, met his. “When did you decide Stephen had to go?”

  People may have been in the room, but their natural instinct to give Briar a wide berth meant that none of them could have heard the harsh, whispered words, but by the way Grandpa’s Kason’s narrowed eyes scanned the room, he would have sworn everyone watching out the window was listening. The old man was losing his hold.

  “I decided no such thing.” His lips didn’t move, and his voice was barely audible, but he smiled anyway.

  “Did that one hit you differently? That question isn’t the kind you encouraged me to ask, is it?”

  “You clearly don’t recall the messages I gave you.”

  Briar’s smile widened, because he did recall, and now he understood it better, he thought.

  He opened his mouth to answer, to remind the old man of the ways he was walked down the path that led to a charred body in a small meeting room. He recognized the leading now, at least. But something out the window drew his attention, and the people around them erupted into shocked gasps.

  “What happened?” he asked no one, and he didn’t get an answer, but it was clear from the pieces that floated through space in front of the window, disappearing as the ship turned.

  One of the spindles didn’t make it.

  “Did it hit the atmosphere wrong?” a voice from the crowd rang out, over the ones speculating which ship had just been destroyed.

  “No, some purple thing came out of nowhere and slammed into it. I’ve never seen a comet like that,” another voice said, louder than the hum of shock running through everyone. That hum was swiftly devolving into grief and something edging toward panic.

  People stood, a few getting closer to the window like they were trying to see something that would change the heavy reality of what everyone had already witnessed. A few recoiled from the view, and some ran from the gathering room all together.

  It didn’t take long for them to remember Grandpa Kason was sitting there. Before Briar was able to form whole words, to think to ask whether his family was safe or not, others started peppering the old man with their own questions.

  They pounded the air with their words, with their need for some kind of answer, some kind of direction in a universe that suddenly made less sense. The spindles were so close, the people onboard them just hours away from being able to set foot on the planet they all dreamed of.

  Others had called Briar cruel since Stephen’s death, he had heard them, but he would never be capable of the kind of cruelty the universe could hand someone. Never.

  “Which spindle was that?” he finally managed to ask, the words squeezed past a throat that didn’t want to work.

  “Everyone, please slow down, I know as much as you do about this, let me meet with leadership and find out more details.” Grandpa Kason got to his feet, slowly, and with exaggerated care as if he was afraid to fall down at any moment.

  Briar narrowed his eyes and shot to his feet, glaring down at the withered face.

  “You don’t need anyone’s help to answer my damn question,” he said, putting emphasis on anyone and help. Maybe the other people gathered around didn’t notice the scam, but he wanted Grandpa Kason to know that at least he did.

  “I… don’t…” The old man looked around and acted confused, but Briar sneered.

  “Which spindle was that?” he asked for the second, and much louder, time, speaking slowly and enunciating each word carefully.

  Grandpa Kason pulled his head back and his mouth grew pinched while his eyes narrowed a fraction.

  The people around them leaned in, equal parts hope and fear painting their faces.

  Briar had a second to think how strange it was to hope it wasn’t his family, and realize that it was someone’s. To save his loved ones, he was hoping for someone else’s to die.

  It was only a second’s hesitation before he leaned in further, his ability itching at his hands to be set free.

  “I’m sorry.” Grandpa Kason turned to face others looming over him. “I missed it happen, I don’t know for sure which one it was. I need to speak to others who will know. I promise, I will tell you all.”

  He turned and limped through the group, people stepping out of the way to avoid breaking protocol and touching him.

  The old man may have convinced everyone else, but Briar was sure. Grandpa Kason knew, and he was hiding it. What he didn’t know was why, when everyone would find out eventually.

  31

  Zellendine

  A wave went through her whole body, like a shiver but worse, a tremor. It shook more than her muscles, she felt it deep within her bones.

  “It’s trying to kill me,” she whispered, while the rest of the crew were talking over each other.

  Troylus, without her even being aware of him moving, wrapped his arms around her and tucked her into the space between his chin and his shoulder, where her head fit like he was made for her to rest there.

  “Nothing is going to hurt you, I promise,” he said, his voice raw and harsh, but it managed to soothe the tremors running through her.

  “We have to get rid of it,” she said, her voice not sounding like her own. She sounded stronger and starker than she normally did.

  “I know, we will.” He kissed her on the head and she squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to let herself devolve into the tears pressing against her lids.

  “How can we leave here if nowhere out there is safe?” A tear made it past all her attempts at keeping it from falling.

  “Zellendine, no matter what we have to do, even if the answer is stay here in the spindle, we will do it.”

  Troylus took a large, gentle hand, and brushed her hair away from her face, rubbing away the salt water trickling down her cheek.

  “But I’m supposed to remember the damn code, and then send the damn message, how can I do that from here?” She clutched at him, the possibility that she would never remember was bad enough, the possibility that she would but not be able to use the code her father died for, was so much worse.

  “We’ll figure it out. We’ll hide it from them.” He kissed her head and bit his lip, his arms tightening around her.

  “If they catch us,” she said, the tremor running through her again at the thought of being put back into space and locked in perpetual cryo alongside Troylus while their child was raised to be the perfect Chapter citizen.

  “They won’t. I won’t let them hurt you again. No matter what.” He buried his face in her neck and rubbed his hands along her back, running his fingers through her hair.

  She believed him, and it only made everything worse.

  Nothing he could do was going to ensure she wouldn’t get hurt. But she knew he would try. And in the trying, he could end up being the one to take the fall for anything she got caught doing. In her mind, it started playing like a memory, something so real it felt like it had already happened.

  Zellendine sucked down a hitching breath and pulled away from him, tucking all the parts of her that wanted nothing more at that moment than to stay in his arms and weep away where she would allow them room to breathe later.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers, the silver in them almost glowing like they were lit from within.

  She held a hand to his cheek and he closed his beautiful eyes to lean into her palm.

  “Yes, I’m going to be. But we have a lot of work to do.” She managed to keep steel in her voice and the desperation out of it long enough for him to open his eyes and stare into hers, “And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “I already don’t like the sound of you saying that.” The glowing light went out of his eyes and they went back to their pseudo normal silver.

  “Everybody,” she said, turning away from Troylus to address the entire table.

  Most of them didn’t stop their heated conversations, some of them were even still arguing that it could just be a coincidence since most of the population didn’t have silver eyes.

  “Hey, guys,” she tried again, a little louder.

  Only a couple more eyes turned her way and she was well and truly pissed off.

  “Shut up,” she yelled.

  All conversation stopped, some mid word.

  Imogene looked at her with that stone face only she was capable of, but a tiny muscle in the corner of her mouth twitched and Zellendine was sure she had something to say.

  Troylus raised both his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip, trying to repress the smile that wanted to pop onto his face as he scanned the rest of the group.

  “Listen, just for a minute,” she said, patting Troylus’s chest so he released her, moving to crouch at the side of her chair and wrap her hands in his.

  “I think I’m the only one of us, besides Maurice, who’s had the purple come after them.”

  A couple heads nodded, other brows furrowed, and some people remained unreadable, while Troylus stiffened at her side.

  “But I think we need to know for certain if it’s a matter of just those of us without silver eyes that it targets, or if there’s something else going on.”

  “Something else? Are we back to sentient weather?” Imogene asked.

  “Yes.” She could have sworn she caught someone roll their eyes, but she pressed on. “It may have an explanation though.”

  Zellendine turned to look at Xander, all the other eyes of the group turned toward him too.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Xander, when you and Troylus came in from the storm, there were strikes happening on the spindle itself, right? How close did you get to them and did they go after you at all?”

  He looked down at the table and his top lip pushed out for a second before he looked back at her and said, “No. And I don’t even remember thinking it would.”

  “Right. So, when I see it, terror runs through me, hot and molten, and when you see it, it barely strikes you as odd.”

  Xander rubbed his forehead like he was getting a headache.

  “Am I supposed to glean something from that besides the fact that you had a traumatic experience once before with it?” Xander asked, not rudely, but like he was trying to understand. “Because if I had been through the situation in the cryo bay with only Troylus to help me, I would probably be scarred for life.”

  “Says the guy who was up a tree while I was fighting the snow cat,” Troylus said, shaking his head and turning back to focus on Zellendine.

  “You’re right,” Zellendine said, directing her words at Xander, “I am not objective. But, if we can figure out that there is something fundamental, DNA level, different about me and Maurice from say you and Imogene and Troylus, maybe we can know who needs to be careful. And maybe, big maybe, we can get a better idea of why this is happening and what’s causing it.”

  “And what’s the plan, then?” he asked, still rubbing his face as if he was exhausted.

  “The plan has a few phases, first is that I pack all my shit, the next is that I start on the research. I’m going to need everyone to allow me to run scans on you. It won’t take long, and I guarantee you’ve had them before while on the ship.”

  Nods, everyone seemed to agree, and she knew it was a good idea, but in the back of her mind concerns about causing divisions among the crew that could be misconstrued bothered her.

  Chapter computers already decided which babies would survive being born in the mechanical wombs, what would happen if they could identify who might develop abilities?

  But for the moment, they needed to know. They needed to be able to protect themselves from their unknown enemy.

  Even if it meant delays taking down the enemy they could see in the Chapter.

  32

  Troylus

  After helping set up Zellendine in her medic alcove, he kissed her on the cheek.

  She didn’t even twitch in response, her fingers already rapid fire tapping at her holo.

  He smiled and walked away, she had his scans, there wasn’t much in the way of additional help he could offer.

  Instead of hanging around her while she was busy, he went to Maurice’s room on the way to the comms.

  Without the homes being built in the burgh, he needed to check in with Rullon and Indigo about the delay in them getting to the planet.

  But first, he needed to check on Maurice, and talk Xander into letting him and Imogene to use their abilities.

  It made no sense for him to try and stop help, no matter where it was coming from.

  The room Maurice was in was as makeshift as anyone else’s but Xander had hung a piece of rope across the pseudo door like the world’s most useless lock.

  He ducked under the rope and shoved his way inside, blinking into the dark as his eyes adjusted.

  Maurice was asleep in the small bed, his body bandaged, and his lined face as relaxed as Troylus had ever seen it.

  Xander must have hung more blankets across the ceiling to block out the lights. The room was even darker than Zellendine’s, little light got past the edges of the blankets, and Troylus didn’t think that was how Maurice would have had it.

  “Hey,” Troylus said, after a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, “Maurice. How you feeling?”

  As quiet as he tried to be, his words still seemed too loud in the solemnity of the dark.

  Maurice didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice, his breathing remained steady and deep, deeper even than could have been comfortable with his remaining injuries.

  Troylus grabbed one of the blankets overhead and yanked it down, leaving the other drooping, but still blocking the light from shining directly into Maurice’s face.

  He looked fine.

  If Troylus ignored the bandages, he never would have guessed how close Maurice had been. But something about his old friend’s condition bothered him. It tickled at the edges of his mind, that something was off.

  Poking his head out of the doorway, he spotted Xander still at the table, talking with a few others while he continued to eat his meal, resting his cheek on one hand.

  The guy was exhausted, how long had he stayed awake, sitting in the dark with Maurice?

  Zellendine was still in her chair, in the alcove, surrounded by her medic equipment, most of which Troylus had never seen her use and wasn’t even sure what it was for.

  He bit his lip and glanced back at Maurice, he didn’t want to interrupt her, especially so soon after she started on her research, but Maurice needed someone who could recognize what was actually wrong with him.

  And as much as he trusted his gut on this, he wouldn’t have called it diagnostic.

 

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