JETH SPENT THE NIGHT ALONE IN HIS CABIN, HIS ONLY companion the strange, unwelcome ghosts in his head. He continued to resist the buzzing, trying to simply pretend it wasn’t there. But it kept getting louder and louder until the buzz was all he could hear. It was like trying to ignore an itch on the bottom of his foot trapped inside his shoe, driving him crazy. Finally, he closed his eyes, gave in, and accepted the Axis fully.
At once, the buzzing ceased. Images and ideas flooded his mind, drowning him in the sudden onslaught. He froze, unable to tell where he ended and the Axis began. For a moment he was the Axis, a machine reduced to the influx and processing of data. He tried to shut it out again, but he was too paralyzed to respond. Even his body had stopped working.
He was helpless against the chaos, but some of it slowly began to make sense. He felt Eric and Perry through the link, their minds unique to him in a way the others were not, as if the face-to-face interaction had given them a distinguishable tenor among the chorus of thoughts. Seconds later he sensed Dax’s presence, his mind stronger than the others, more physically present somehow. Jeth felt his consciousness being pulled toward Dax, but the closer he drew the more his thoughts and memories began to flow out from him as if his mind were a pitcher that had been tipped over: the memory of his first kiss, the time he broke his wrist on the playground, the moment he learned his father had died, the first time he and Sierra— NO!
He screamed it through the Axis, the power of his thought resonating like a pulse cannon. It was enough to shake him loose from the Axis’s grip, and he raised his hand to his head and yanked the implant out. At once he slumped onto the bed, his muscles letting go. He hadn’t realized his entire body had been clenched.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to slow, his breathing to steady. This is impossible. He raised the implant before his face, glaring at it. He would never conquer this thing. Never. Jeth closed his eyes and wished for an escape. There was none. Only this brief respite between battles in what would be a long, difficult war.
But I must win.
He let an hour pass, lying there without moving. He waited until the ache in the back of his skull grew unbearable again, then he returned the implant to its sheath. Relief, even greater than all the times before, came over him. And for a few moments, wearing the implant felt right.
But then the buzzing called again. This time he didn’t ignore it. Instead, he gently probed it with his mind, approaching it warily, like a cat stepping into a new house. Images began to appear again, but they came slower, their pace more controlled. He was able to distinguish one thought from another, one mind from another. For a while he was able to be in the flow of the Axis without sharing any of his own thoughts. No memories rose to the surface, no secrets escaped.
It’s a doorway, Perry had said, and Jeth thought he was beginning to grasp the concept. A doorway, one with a door he could open and close at will. He tried it, willing the door to close. Resistance met his attempt. He pushed harder. The next moment the Axis’s power bowled him over again, and he was swept away in the flow of thoughts and ideas, his own being sucked out of him.
With an effort that left him panting, Jeth pulled away from the Axis once again, jerking the implant out. At least getting away had been a little easier this time.
A few minutes later he tried again. Then again. And so the night went. Each time he came back out feeling like he’d gained another measure of control. It wasn’t like Perry had promised—it wasn’t easy, but it was working. All it took was concentration and effort.
At some point during the night Jeth drifted off to sleep only to wake up and discover he’d left the implant in. The realization shot terror through him. He couldn’t remember dreaming, but what if he had? What had his unconscious mind shared through the night?
Nothing, the familiar voice of Perry reached him. Stop being so paranoid. The Axis isn’t your enemy. Just give in to it.
I’m trying, Jeth thought back to him. The sensation was bizarre, like having an out-of-body experience.
You’re still holding back. Give in all the way. I can help you if you want.
Jeth swallowed. The idea of just relaxing into it, of just accepting this new state of being, made sweat break out on his body once more. He needed a shower.
I bet you do. I can smell you from here.
What?
Kidding. Perry’s amusement vibrated through the link. Just don’t stand naked in front of the mirror while you’re linked. None of us want to see that, thanks.
Fuck you, Jeth thought, but to his surprise there was little heat in the response.
Anytime, man, anytime.
The link went quiet. Not dead, just quiet, a gentle hum in the back of Jeth’s mind. Maybe he was getting the hang of this after all.
He rolled out of bed and headed for the exit. He paused in the doorway and contemplated leaving the implant behind. He even reached up to remove it from the architecture, but he stopped before going through with it. It felt okay for the moment. He didn’t know how long it would last, but wearing it was the only way he was ever going to get used it.
Leaving the implant where it was, Jeth headed out the door into the dim passenger corridor. It was early enough he suspected most of the crew were still asleep, but as he headed for the ladder to the deck below, soft music rose up to greet him. It was familiar music, but not any he’d heard for a very long time. Mom’s music, he realized. He stepped off the ladder and entered the common room.
A rush of memories came over him as he spotted Marian sitting in one of the armchairs, a reader in her hands. He must have come across her like this hundreds of times in the first ten years of his life—reading and listening to music with a cup of tea set beside her, steam rising up from it in billows. For a second, panic threatened to take hold of Jeth as he realized he was still connected to the Axis. Only, he didn’t think he’d shared the memories. The recollection felt different this time, voluntary and private.
Hesitantly, Jeth engaged the Axis, searching for Perry. Did you see any of that? Jeth asked once he’d found him.
See what? Perry answered. There was no hint of deception in the reply, at least none that Jeth could sense.
Never mind. Feeling better, he withdrew his thoughts from the link and focused on his mother. She looked up from her reader, her eyes appraising him.
“Good morning, Jeth. How are you feeling?” Marian paused. “How are you doing?”
He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, resisting the impulse to touch the implant tentacles cupped gently around the back of his skull. “Okay. A little better than yesterday.”
Marian smiled. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.
“How about you? How does it feel to be ho—to be here?” Jeth gestured around the common room, trying to see the space as his mother was seeing it. Avalon had been her second home for years. It was certainly messier than in her day. The furniture was mostly the same, although a good deal shabbier. Most of the decorations would be new to her—the additions made by the crew, including Lizzie’s still-life photos and Celeste’s tribal masks—all except for the painting of Empyria. That one, positioned directly across from the chair she was sitting in, Marian had hung ages ago. It depicted a vivid, surreal landscape full of trees and plants painted in colors so vibrant they could only be fantasy.
“It’s strange being back,” she said, glancing around the room. It was a truer statement than she could’ve realized.
“I know the feeling,” said Jeth. Normally every place on Avalon felt like home to him. But at the moment it was as if he’d stepped through some metaspace portal into a parallel world, one that resembled this one but that was off-kilter somehow, full of intentional mistakes. Like my mother being back from the dead. He shook the feeling off.
“Well, I’m glad you’re adjusting to the implant. We’ll be leaving soon.” Marian stood. “I hope you don’t mind, but I already brought the crew up to speed on the mission to First-Earth. They all seemed willing to help.”
All of them? “I don’t mind,” Jeth said, uncertain if he really meant it. He was used to being captain of this crew, but he supposed if anyone were to take charge, his mother would be the best choice.
“Good,” Marian said. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Sure.” The reply came out automatically, but astonishment at the idea colored his voice. Breakfast? Homemade by his mother? This had to be a dream. This couldn’t be his life.
“Apparently your friend Flynn went to the market,” Marian said as she turned toward the galley. “He’s got quite the eye for quality ingredients. I like him.”
Jeth grinned, remembering Lizzie’s words. Mom will love the crew. It seemed she was right. About Flynn at least. His thoughts started to turn toward Shady, and he pulled back, unwilling to probe that raw spot this morning.
Jeth followed his mother into the galley, and within minutes he was helping her prepare an elaborate breakfast, the kind that would make Flynn’s heart explode from sheer joy. Jeth had never cared much for cooking, but he recalled watching his mother and father prepare meals together, the act a family ritual. They would laugh and talk while they worked, but not about the food and what needed to be done next—the work they accomplished with a kind of silent communication, a dance where one did this while the other did that on instinct.
Jeth found himself falling into the rhythm easily, and for a while, he didn’t speak, just listened as his mother talked about days long gone, or gave him pointers about how to mix the best gravy or to dice the onions into the perfect size. At first Jeth was content just to listen and to be near her, savoring the nostalgia and the sweet soft enjoyment of their reunion.
But soon his thoughts turned to the present—and the future. He cleared his throat. “So, you say we’ll be leaving soon?”
Marian looked up from the cutting board where she was slicing a tomato. All the food they were using was fresh and not imitation. It had to have come from Dax’s personal stock, Jeth knew. Fresh food like this was a luxury most spaceport travelers couldn’t afford, and certainly not his crew.
A Brethren perk, he thought, a tremor going through his body. The Axis seemed unnaturally silent.
“Yes, that’s right,” Marian said. “Another day, maybe two. I’m not sure. Dax is working on the final preparations.”
Jeth started to ask what those preparations were, but the realization that he and his mother might not be alone for much longer forced him to get right to the point. His heartbeat began to quicken, and all at once the buzzing grew louder, the Axis suddenly more present than it had been a moment before. Jeth winced and pulled the implant out, stuffing it into his pocket.
Marian cast him a sidelong look, but she didn’t ask for an explanation.
Mustering his courage, Jeth said, “Why are we really going to First-Earth, Mom?”
A wry smile curved one side of her mouth, but she didn’t stop her slow, methodical slicing of the tomato. “You get your skepticism from me, I hope you know.”
Jeth huffed, deciding he would have to take her word for it. He couldn’t remember well enough to be certain. “Why, Mom?” he pressed.
She set the knife down and faced him. “For the exact reasons I already gave you—to hit the ITA where it will hurt most, and to free the Pyreans and save Cora.”
Jeth sighed. “That’s just it. How will destroying one Harvester free them? Won’t we need to destroy all of them?”
Marian shook her head.
Jeth’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying that destroying the First-Earth Harvester will be enough all by itself?”
“Yes.”
He blinked, taken aback by her absolute certainty. “How do you know that? How does that work?”
Marian hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words to convince him. “The First-Earth Harvester is the largest, as you know, but it also has the deepest hold on the Pyreans.”
“I don’t understand.”
Marian didn’t reply at once, instead letting her gaze wander around the room. Her eyes lingered for a couple of seconds on the wall behind the stove. Bits of dried food and other unidentifiable stains dotted it here and there. Flynn did a lot of the cooking, but tidiness went against his nature.
“Sierra has explained to you the way in which the Pyreans are best thought of as a tree, yes?” Marian finally said.
Jeth nodded.
“Well, imagine it’s a tree that can move, like the kind in the fantasy stories I used to read to you when you were a boy.”
It took Jeth a moment to recall what she was talking about. But then he remembered—walking, talking trees, the kind that could pull up their roots and go places. Those had been among his favorite make-believe creatures. He started to smile at the memory, but forced it back. Time was ticking.
“The Pyreans are like that,” Marian said. “Only instead of moving across the ground, the Pyreans move through metaspace.”
“I know that. I mean, I sort of get it.”
“All right. Then you might recall from one of the stories in particular that the best way to capture a walking tree is to snag it around the trunk. If you only try and lasso the branches, the tree will either slip free or break free, leaving the leaves and branches behind.”
Jeth snorted. “Yeah, I remember that story. It had the best illustrations.”
“Yes, it did. Well, like in the story, the First-Earth Harvester has hold of the trunk. The rest only hold the branches. So if we free the trunk, the Pyreans will be able to take care of the rest on their own.”
Jeth tilted his head, mulling over the idea. As with everything else connected to the tree symbolism, he supposed it made sense. And if she was right, destroying the First-Earth Harvester would certainly be a critical blow to the ITA. It would be the ultimate revenge, and he suddenly wanted it to be true. Only— “How do you know it’s part of the trunk? I’ve been through the Aether Project and there’s no mention of it anywhere.”
Marian turned back to the counter and resumed her slicing. “That’s because the ITA doesn’t understand what exactly they’ve trapped. Oh, they have theories, some of them are even close, but most fall far from the reality of what the Pyreans actually are.”
Jeth folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve really been there, haven’t you?”
Marian shot him a puzzled look. “Of course. Cora and I didn’t get this way by magic.” As if to emphasize the point, she waved a hand at the discarded tomato bits on the counter and they vanished into metaspace with a loud crack.
Flinching, Jeth returned his attention to the gravy he was supposed to be stirring. A thick crust had coated the bottom of the pan, and he grimaced, hoping like hell he wouldn’t get stuck with dish duty afterward. He wanted to ask her what Empyria had been like, but once again he remembered time was short.
“What about Dax?” he said, dread pulsing inside him.
“Excuse me?” Marian looked up.
Jeth sighed at her defensiveness. “Do you really intend to give him the location of Empyria?”
Marian’s nostrils flared and she pointed the knife at him. “You have grown entirely too clever and devious for your own good, young man.” She set down the knife, picked up the cutting board, and added the tomatoes to the bowl with the onions. “No, I don’t intend to give him the coordinates.”
“Mom—” Jeth began.
Marian cut him off with a look. “I intend to take him there personally.”
Jeth’s eyes widened, surprise freezing him in place. “Take him there? What are you talking about?”
“Dax wants Empyria for the same reason the ITA does,” Marian said, a coldness creeping into her voice. “He sees it as a way to gain power and wealth and all the things that you’d expect a typical human to want since the dawn of our creation.”
“Yes, but won’t taking him there give him those things anyway?”
Marian pinned him with her gaze, her expression full of that alien hardness. “No. The Pyreans will change his mind about things.”
Jeth closed his mouth, biting off the automatic response. Mystical trees or not, the Pyreans hardly seemed capable of anything other than moving objects through metaspace. She really has gone mad, he realized. He didn’t know if it was a consistent madness—she seemed so lucid, so normal most of the time—but this, the idea that a trip to Empyria would change Dax’s mind about wanting to claim it for his own gain was insanity. Nothing could do that.
“You look doubtful,” Marian said.
Jeth slowly nodded.
“Don’t be, Jeth. The Pyreans aren’t a lower life-form made to fuel these machines the humans have built. They are sentient. They have a mind, a consciousness that exceeds even our own.”
An alien life-form, Jeth thought. As smart as humans? Smarter? He couldn’t imagine it. He decided he didn’t want to. If it was true, if the Pyreans were sentient, then that meant they had a purpose, a sense of self, and with that came the ability to have moral constructs like good and evil. Who was to say their intent was the former and not the latter? How could he be certain he could trust them? Maybe they had manipulated Marian’s mind. Maybe the Pyreans themselves and not the trip to Empyria had altered her DNA. They might have remade her as they wanted her to be. A chill spread across his body, and he shivered.
Marian sighed. “I can tell you don’t believe me, but that’s all right. All you have to do is trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Yes, Jeth. I’m your mother.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that for a second Jeth almost did. But then all the doubt came rushing in. Sudden resentment flared up inside him as he remembered that she had turned down the opportunity to see him and Lizzie. That she had decided her secrets were more important than her family. He might’ve trusted her before, but he wasn’t certain anymore. He couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t changed, and he couldn’t ignore the possibility that she was no longer rational.
“Okay, Mom. Whatever you say,” he said, pacifying her. But inwardly he refused to support the plan. Go to Empyria? If the Pyreans could change Dax, they could change all of them. He wasn’t about to take her word on it that the Pyreans could be trusted. And he couldn’t take the situation on faith either. He was too experienced with how the real world worked—a world without magic trees and the unicorns from the stories she once read him. Faith like that didn’t have a place here. Here all that mattered was what you could see and what you could do. And right now, he needed to talk to Lizzie. She had to finish cracking the code. He needed an ace up his sleeve. One he would play if and when his mother’s questionable plan went bust.