Time to be invisible.
Jàden’s chest tightened as she opened the door to the rock and water surface of Sandaris. Endless miles of barren rock calmed her overstimulated mind as a warm breeze ruffled the small hairs at her neck.
Stars twinkled over a derelict landscape. Hàlon’s dark ring made a slow orbit, blocking out a wide band of stars.
“We’re almost there,” she whispered. She could practically taste home now.
“Remember what I told you,” Kale whispered in her ear.
“Courage cannot awaken without fear.” The words were meant to soothe her. To help her take that fear and turn it into courage.
She was terrified.
Not of leaving Sandaris, but of the path between this moment and home. So many things could go wrong. Before her brain could grasp them and trigger an anxiety attack, Kale’s shoulder nudged hers. “Be strong.”
“I can do this,” she whispered. Straightening her shoulders so she’d at least look a bit like a soldier, she and Kale hastened along the dirt path toward the wide outdoor gardens.
Ironstar tower gleamed like a white beacon, soft green lights trailing the length from the ground to its apex. Extensive gardens and parks surrounded its base, creating a haven away from Hàlon where citizens could feel at ease as if they were on their home worlds.
A plexiglass fence surrounded the Ironstar gardens. Trees and shrubs flourished inside, but beyond the boundary, nothing grew. This would be her last chance to see the world her species tried so hard to terraform. She didn’t want to leave Sandaris, but she couldn’t stay and look over her shoulder for the rest of her life.
Gray dust blew across her boots with the breeze. The garden’s hydraulics pulled clean water from deep underground, spilling it through the boundary in a series of small waterfalls, an attempt by the Guilds to help terraform the moon on a cellular level with elements pumped into the water.
Not that anything worked. It was still as barren as the day starship Hàlon ripped it from orbit. The Guild had run thousands of tests. Their data indicated that all the elements necessary for life to bloom in soil and sand, lake and ocean, were present.
They were wrong.
The Flame surged in her veins. Through its tingling ache thrummed the gentle heartbeat of the core. Of the alien ship. It had been sick not so long ago, each beat of its heart slowing under the weight of despair.
But the Guilds could never see it. Their data didn’t show it. Jàden had sensed it since childhood: impending death and something missing to complete the circuit that kept it alive.
She was the loop now—the missing piece—and she wanted no part of it.
Gray-uniformed soldiers strolled along the dirt path dangerously close to where she and Kale stood. Armed with small handguns holstered on their hips, their Enforcer emblems—red orbs centered inside four silver petals—caught her eye.
The bloodflower, a sign of protection.
The thought almost made her laugh as she eased back, letting a nearby shrub hide her, but the Enforcers saw her anyway.
“No drinking beyond the boundary,” one of them said sharply, palming the gate open. “Get inside before you get yourselves killed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kale nodded to the soldiers and turned onto one of the larger paths.
Jàden followed him through, freezing when the Enforcer spoke again. “You two on duty?”
“Inspection of the lower tunnels. Had a report of some kids drinking réva down there and causing a power failure.” Kale crossed his arms, sounding all curt and official.
Grabbing the bill of her hat, Jàden lowered it a touch more to hide her features before clapping Kale on the shoulder. She didn’t want to speak in case her voice was recognized.
She slipped away, catching the last of Kale’s words. “Off to a cold réva and warm bunk myself. Later fellas.”
A tomato ale sounded fantastic, but she slipped around a bend in the path, disappearing from sight before Kale caught up with her.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. “I’ve seen that guy before. He’s an ass.”
“Then let’s make this fast.” Jàden didn’t want any more run-ins. Already her heart beat wildly in her chest.
A soft beep chimed from Kale’s screen bracer as they cut through the trees to a shrubbery-lined path. “Shit, that bitch knows we’re here.”
She grabbed his arm and read the message on his screen, likely forwarded from his Enforcer mail. Sergeant Jason Kale. Please report to Guild Command General Blàke for briefing.
“But how?” Jàden dropped her hands, trying to hide their trembling. Guild Command General Adina Blàke, known around Hàlon as the Iron Lady, ran all operations at the moon’s core. Those who didn’t follow her orders wound up dead or simply disappeared. “It’s just a briefing notice.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Look at the timestamp.” Kale rubbed his head, a sure sign of distress.
Jàden had never understood the dual meaning in command messages, but as she glanced again, the time read that the message was only sent moments ago. General Blàke was baiting Kale to get to her.
Kale scanned the gardens as if he expected an ambush. “Our time’s run out. We gotta move.”
They hastened along the bushes, standing as sentinels between vivid redwoods and the paved walking path. Stars twinkled between the high branches. Hundreds of people were on the surface tonight, both laughter and grief clear on their faces.
Telóath—a dance of life and death. Jàden’s least favorite holiday. Her parents had died years ago, and the rest of her family was a bunch of assholes. She had no one to remember.
Water churned from the river hydraulics through a central plaza square divided by ten-span high plexiglass. The river of death, containing all the souls of those between lives. When each person passed, their core essence and memories of every life flowed in the water, waiting for their next birth.
For thousands of years before Hàlon existed, scientists believed all memories and experience were contained within the body and brain. Now it was accepted and understood that the brain acted like a software program, diving into a person’s essence and accessing both past and present experiences.
The thick glass wall was lined on both sides by citizens who wished to remember a fallen ancestor. Or perhaps a lost loved one from another life.
Lasting for three days, Telóath was celebrated near each of the surface towers. Musicians played somber and dramatic melodies, and on the last night, singles would mix together in the hopes of finding a new loved one or a companion for this life. Of course, what had been a somber affair a century ago had now become a raving party by the final night, with the mourners-turned-revelers experiencing terrible hangovers the following morning.
Jàden had enough of parties, and people for that matter. Not to mention, she and Kale hoped to avoid detection. But the crowds were sparse tonight. “There aren’t enough people here.”
“I know.” Kale clenched his jaw, his sharp hazel eyes watching every shadow. “Gotta keep moving forward, Jàden. We can do this.”
She couldn’t stay in a world that wanted her dead. A whisper of white light flowed through her veins along with a gentle domp, domp of the moon’s beating heart.
Jàden followed Kale into the plaza and traced her fingers along the wall. Part of her needed to believe it could shield her from any wandering Enforcers—at least on one side—but part of her ached to have someone to remember. Someone who used to love her, and she them.
She stopped in front of a monitor. The frosted plexiglass pad next to it glowed a friendly white light, inviting her to unlock the secrets of her past lives.
She’d always been alone, though. An only child, she’d lost her parents at a young age, and nearly her life shortly after. All she had now were her grandparents. Though they’d never been too fond of Kale, complaining that as their only heir, she needed a scientist and not a cock jock—cockpit jockey—at her side.
She hovered a hand over the light pad, tempted to take a quick peek. She’d never have the chance again once they were gone. All Jàden had to do was let the machine read her biometrics and pull up every iteration of her previous lives for the past fifty thousand years.
“This is not the time.” Kale leaned close to her ear, urging her back from the wall.
His chest warmed her back. This couldn’t be their first life together, and some part of her wanted a glimpse of their past.
Jàden’s hand dropped away. “I just want this to be over.”
She twisted around in his arms, but Kale stepped back. His eyes still bore that lethal gaze that spoke of danger as he laid a hand on his holstered handgun. “Jàden, look at me.”
She tried to meet his gaze, but he was scanning the courtyard. They had to cross it to get to the gate, but they’d run out of trees to hide in.
His body was hard as a rock, the tension coiling his muscles. “Keep your pace steady, hat low. We’re just two Enforcers walking the grounds, nothing more.”
Jàden ducked her head and hastened along the raised river, Kale by her side. Wide avenues lined both sides of the watery wall as it arched back underground. No matter how hard she tried to stroll casually, they were too exposed. It felt like everyone was watching her.
Kale grabbed her arm to slow her down. “Don’t be conspicuous.”
They angled toward the tower, its apex appearing to touch the stars. An arch opened at the base, the words ‘Ironstar Gateway’ engraved into the smooth stone.
Jàden’s heartbeat was just returning to normal when a black Raith fighter thundered across the sky. She startled, whispering, “please don’t be about us.”
The Raith banked wide, then descended like a predator on the far side of the gardens. Two more flew in, and she cursed under her breath. A knot of gray-fatigued Enforcers raced toward the fighter jets.
Jàden glanced back toward the tower where several more Enforcers raced into the courtyard with handguns held tight against their chests. “Shit, what do we do?”
They might not be able to spot Jàden between the lantern light and shadows yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they figured out where she was headed.
“Mind your smarts and keep walking.” Kale tapped his bracer screen as if searching for something.
Enforcers were on both sides now, and Jàden instinctively knew the Raith fighters were there for her. She wanted to race back underground, but they were so close to the gate.
She ducked near a crowd of people, her chest so tight she could barely breathe. Holding onto the meager amount of courage she had, Jàden matched their pace to keep them between her and the Enforcers.
Kale white-knuckled his holstered gun, keeping his voice low. “Straight to the tower. Stick to the shadows and groups of people.”
“What if they find us?” The cool night air trailed across the back of her neck, raising prickles along her hairline.
“We turn back and shoot our way to one of those Raiths, or we die together.” His hushed voice held no waiver of uncertainty.
Shooting Enforcers would mean Kale signing his death warrant alongside hers. A second group of Enforcers hastened out of the tower arch, spreading along the plaza and stopping several people. “Jàden, stop and turn toward me like you’re about to be reprimanded.”
As soon as she did, Kale stuck a finger in her face and growled a long string of curses as if she’d done something truly horrible. While Jàden knew he’d never harm her in any way, she hunched all the same and bit her lip.
“Yes, sir,” one of the Enforcers said loudly nearby. A female with a calm ice in her voice. “No, sir. If Ravenscraft’s here, I’ll bring her back in a body bag.”
Jàden pressed a hand to her mouth to silence her panic.
But the hardness in Kale’s eyes terrified her. He was her protector, and any Enforcer who harmed her wouldn’t survive the encounter.
She glanced toward the woman, but Kale snapped his fingers close to her nose, startling her to focus on him again. Gray uniforms disappeared between the trees, but on the main avenue, a few guildsmen clustered in small groups.
Kale leaned close to her ear, his voice softening as he clutched her neck. “Sorry, baby. I had to make sure they didn’t try to pull us into their duties.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Remember what I said yesterday. As soon as we’re through the gate, use that power of yours. We only need a moment, and they’ll never find us again.”