Theft of power will turn anyone into an enemy.
Jàden had done the unthinkable—bound her energy to the heart of a dying moon and the alien starship hidden within. She’d only wanted to give the sentient ship a last comfort before death; to hold its invisible hand as it took its last breath.
The combined energies caused a fusion reaction, duplicating her power and healing the sickness inside the moon’s core. A single act of kindness had backfired to result in stealing power from those who ruled.
She became Guild Command’s primary enemy, and they wanted her dead.
Guild Command called this power the Violet Flame, and its energy whispered through her veins like crackling fire. Jàden scratched her arm, wishing she could rip the sharp—almost painful—tingling out of her veins.
Every day she tried to keep it suppressed and ignore the dull ache. She didn’t want anyone to know the destructive force she wielded. But the beating heart inside the moon’s core called for her to return.
The moon was angry she wanted to leave.
“Do you need another shot?” Kale shifted gears on the small mining craft and red-lined the engine as they blasted low across the terrain.
He’d tried to treat her scratching like an allergic reaction, but it only made her sleepy. What she needed was to drown her woes in a bottle of réva and curl up naked against Kale’s chest. “No, I’m fine.”
Jàden smoothed down her sleeve and traced her fingers across the heads-up display, switching from the back cameras to the others along the hull. “Still no ships following us.”
“We should have picked up a tail by now.” Sergeant Jason Kale piloted the small craft through the mining tunnels toward the engineering station. He rubbed his shaved head, worry tightening the lines around his mouth.
Someone should have been following them. The fact that they weren’t disturbed her.
She swiped the navigator’s screen again, cold tentacles creeping along her skin. Flaky chrysalis pods clung to the walls and ceiling of the hallway in the video, each one housing squid-like parasites. Scientists in the moon’s core had been studying them for years, and theories about their existence ranged from hive bugs to space-faring hyper-intellectuals in hibernation. The last one she’d seen had ripped open the back of a man’s neck to squirm inside his body.
Jàden didn’t stick around long enough for it to emerge again. She bolted before it could kill her, too. Before Guild Command could put a hole in her head and end her life. They refused to let anyone challenge their authority or their right to rule, and she’d done both the moment she bonded with the small moon of Sandaris.
Instead of worrying about her, they should have been concerned with the sheer numbers of those creatures. There had to be thousands, and there was no telling what would happen if all those creatures awoke at once.
“Don’t worry. They can’t get to the surface,” Kale said, as if reading her thoughts. He slowed the craft down as they slid into the small docking bay. Neither of them had slept well in weeks, not since their escape from the core.
If she was killed, all the Flame’s energy would give strength back to the alien core and into the hands of Guild Command. Plus, it would likely re-murder the sentient starship within the core.
High-level security Enforcers walked the corridors of the moon’s heart to keep them contained if they should wake. She glanced at Kale, wishing she could believe the creatures would never reach the surface.
Tonight, she and Kale had a much bigger problem. Getting back to Hàlon.
They’d been in hiding for weeks, plotting out the best way to get back to the starship that circled the moon like a giant steel ring. Kale fit right in among the engineering crews in the moon’s subsurface tunnels, able to tinker with mechanical elements and lend a hand.
She’d spent her time monitoring news bands for a large event that would keep Enforcers’ attention focused elsewhere. Every vessel between the moon’s surface and the planet-sized starship was monitored and searched as soon as they hit orbit, so flying home was out of the question.
Their only chance was to secure a long-range starship and make a run for open space from Hàlon’s outer hull. She and Kale planned to use the tower gates to sneak back aboard Hàlon.
“It’s the second night of Telóath. We’re not going to find a better time to slip through.” He checked his wrist screen, much more advanced than her own generic one. He and his father had built it together when Kale was a kid. It had more functions than his Enforcer-issued bracer and gave Kale access to areas of Hàlon he shouldn’t have security clearance to unlock. Jàden supposed that’s what happened when your father was in charge of a colony ship.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“So far, nothing on the bands. You’d think during a holiday there’d be at least one major riot.” The Flame’s power crackled through her veins, stinging her arms again. No matter where they went, there’d be Enforcers duty-sworn to kill her.
“I guess it’s now or never.” She sighed and unbuckled from the navigator seat. A few of the engineering staff strolled across the bay, pointing at crates like they were doing inventory. They barely noticed the new ship in their hangar, or they simply didn’t care.
She jumped out of her seat and flipped switches along the ceiling to help power down the small mining craft, thinking through the next steps of their journey. Get to the moon’s surface, find the gate, and get home to Hàlon. Once on the ship, they’d disappear into the pipeworks. Kale had a knack for evading cameras and at least a dozen routes mapped in his head where they’d never be seen by anyone.
“We’re below the tower.” He looked up, as if he could see through the other levels to the surface. Kale turned around and pointed at an angle. “Almost.”
Ironstar Tower housed one of six gateways from the surface of Sandaris to Hàlon.
“Let’s go. I’m ready to see the stars again.” Then they could sleep, shower, lie around naked... do anything they wanted. No more hiding in the shadows, and no trigger-happy Enforcers ready to end her life because they feared the Flame’s power.
Kale flipped off the last of the dashboard lights and unbuckled from his seat. His deep hazel eyes settled on her face as he stood, towering over her with his tall, lean body.
Jàden had always needed someone to keep her safe. That truth shamed her more than she’d ever admit, but she never felt embarrassed by her desperate need for Kale’s protection. Without him, she’d already be dead.
“How far to the surface?” Jàden pulled an elastic band from her pocket and pulled her hair back into a single tail that hung just beyond her shoulders.
“Just a few levels up. That way.” Kale nodded to an opening across the hangar and traced his fingers across her cheek. He was the only constant in her life. “You ready?”
“Nope.” She was never ready for anything, but Kale was born to take on the world headfirst. It was part of his charm.
His touch left a lingering trail of warmth in its wake. She reached into his chest pocket, pulled out his gray hat, and tugged it on. It would shadow her features to help keep her hidden from the cameras.
He looked her up and down, then leaned in close, one arm around her waist.
“I get to peel this off later,” he whispered against her neck, tightening his fist on her uniform. “One piece at a time.”
She didn’t bother fighting a smile as she leaned into him and breathed deeply. Kale always smelled of starship grease and leather, just like the cockpit he loved so much. It’s where his head lived, legs wrapped around a flight stick and racing through the stars. He always told her he was born with a flight stick in one hand, a gun in the other.
“Only if you teach me how to fly,” she whispered. Jàden loved to tease him this way, promising that one day he’d wake up and find her naked and flying a starship.
He was the only Enforcer she trusted. The only person, really. Kale knew what she was—a nexus of power bound to the heart of a moon—and yet he showed no fear.
Together, they flipped off the interior lights and opened the hatch. Kale peeked out first, scanning the bay. They’d been hiding out in another engineering facility to the north, but tonight that base was under inspection by several of the Enforcer captains. Jàden suspected no one opened their mouth and outed them—at least not yet. It would explain why they never picked up a tail.
She followed Kale across the bay to a derelict tunnel with only emergency lighting. The docking bay hadn’t been fully lit either, but Jàden figured it had to do with the holiday.
Shadows darkened the smooth steel walls, but nothing moved. The tunnel was empty all the way to the first set of stairs. Kale must have sensed something amiss as he unholstered his handgun and held it loosely in front of him.
Jàden had learned long ago to trust his instincts. He’d saved her life on more than one occasion, and in a few hours, it would be just the two of them. She clicked on her flashlight and swept the beam across the stairwell. This far down was always busy with foot traffic. Tonight, the corridors were empty. “Glad we didn’t have to hide out here.”
Some woman friend of Kale’s owed him a favor, and she’d given the two of them a room in one of the mining bunkers. One of the few places Enforcers avoided. She and Kale climbed the stairs, the underground far too quiet. All the engineers must be in the topside gardens celebrating Telóath.
By the top landing, Jàden fought a sense of dread. She tightened her shoulders, listening for any sound. Even Kale, whose intense energy clung to him like a cloak, kept glancing at his bracer with a built-in holoscreen. “Something don’t feel right. It’s too quiet.”
“Maybe Enforcers already know we’re here.” They’d reached the top level of the tower’s underground system but hadn’t seen a single person since the hangar. Most of the tunnels and rooms were used for storage, though the far end housed a living facility for engineers on duty.
Kale held her with his intense stare and leaned one shoulder against the door. “Once we enter the gardens, get to the gate as fast as you can.”
He leaned in closer as if to say something else, but from one heartbeat to another, his features hardened. She knew that look—work mode. The unsettling transformation from gentle man to lethal soldier, and something had triggered it. Maybe a sound, or an instinct. Jàden had seen it a thousand times, and that meant from here to Hàlon it was all business.
Kale slid a gun from his spare holster and pressed it into her hand. “Put this on so you look more official.”
Jàden made sure the firemark was doused, the gun powered down, and slipped it into the uniform holster. Once upon a time, she’d been uneasy around any kind of weapon, but Kale had fixed that. He’d taught her to shoot, to feel comfortable with a gun in her hands, and it had saved their lives the day they escaped the core.
He kissed her deeply, his mouth soft against hers. She ached to let this moment stretch out, but she’d have a thousand more like it soon; she could wait.