EVERY TIME I closed my eyes, the image of Helios streaking toward us seared my vision.
He’d come down the corridor like a Fury, his hair streaming, blood streaking his face, spattering his clothing, but his blade shining and clean. Whatever he’d done to break through the chip’s regulation, it had cost him. The damage to his brain could be profound, which was why we diverted from our original destination and docked at a small, private station on Landis 17. Rather than venture into the city, I contracted a pair of Vash healers to come scan Helios. A tall, gaunt-looking male handled our sundry cuts and bruises. The other sat quietly at his bedside, her gray eyes distant and blind as she visualized his nervous system, internal organs, and his brain.
She then put him into a deep, healing sleep. He’d been unable to rest after the fight, his blood pressure and adrenaline high, his anger tangled with illogical remorse for disobeying my orders. That angered him even more.
When his eyes began leaking bloody tears, we slipped into AD space onto the fastest route we could navigate. He’d been in bad shape when we docked at the station. We didn’t dare risk moving him, so the Vash came to us.
The healer stood, walked past me without looking, and I realized she might very well be unable to see. The lights were set higher than her eyes could handle, and unlike her partner, she didn’t wear tinted shades. Muttering at my own stupidity, I reset the systems on the ship to adapt to Vash eyesight. The lights dimmed, and her oblong pupils dilated.
“Captain Hawke, as you probably realize, your friend has a slave chip inserted in his brain.” She waved her hand about her head, indicating the frontal lobes. “I can do nothing to remove it, but I was able to seal the bleeds and reduce the inflammation in his brain. But it’s located in a very dangerous position, so I don’t recommend removal.” The other Vash joined her. “I suspect there is a way to deactivate the chip. It’s quite sophisticated, but it is just a tiny bit of hardware.”
The other Vash spoke. “If he opts for removal, Somian healers are doing very impressive things with neural surgery. We’ve been fortunate to observe Vash and Somian teams working together. There is hope, regardless of which avenue he chooses.”
I nodded. It was only as I suspected, yet a small hope that we could remove it died. The original course of action was still the best. I sighed, feeling the pressure around my heart loosen. The Somian species had advanced neural surgery to near impossible heights, but the idea of digging into Helio’s brain to remove the chip frightened me.
The idea of it remaining there terrified me. And my conundrum? I couldn’t make the decision for him, while Helios would defer to any decision I made. And still, I couldn’t take the lead on this. He wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to make decisions about surgery this dangerous.
“With time and rest, he’ll be fine.” She smiled, and a wave of comfort wafted over me. She probably wasn’t a telepath, but there were other ways for healers to heal. Souls could also be injured. She probably didn’t realize she was doing it. So I smiled, paid the pair, and Carlotta saw them off the ship.
I returned to Helios, sat next to his bed, and took his hand in mine. It was still soft but beginning to roughen with new calluses. His muscles were harder. There were lines of stress and fatigue on his face, even though he slept. He shifted slightly, and his hand tightened on mine, then relaxed. I swallowed hard, feeling that I had rocks in my throat. I dragged in a deep breath, then stood, turning as Carlotta entered the room.
She’d brought food. Still hot and fresh. “I wasn’t sure what you have for provisions…” she looked at the sealed boxes and shrugged. “Never did learn to cook that well anyway. And someone was smart enough to set up a kiosk outside the docks, so help yourself.” She was embarrassed. Or uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure.
“What’s the prognosis?”
I shrugged. “Not great, but not awful. The damage wasn’t fatal, but he can’t go on fighting commands much longer.” I stirred the spicy vegetable dish before me. Like anyone who spent too much time in space, fresh produce was a luxury I savored. “I don’t think he fought the chip when U’shma had him.”
“He had no emotional connection to U’shma. He does to you.” She sipped steaming coffee from a heavy mug. “I remember how he fought before. He was no different today. Frankly, I’m shocked. I thought he’d gone soft.”
He’d been no different except the blood running from his nose, the lines of agony carved onto his face. The desperation to protect me. That’s what he’d been doing. His drive to protect his master had overcome the programmed obedience. I stifled a groan. This was all so wrong.
“Can they remove the chip?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Theoretically, yes, but it’s too risky. But it’s just a chip. A bit of hardware. No matter how sophisticated, any system can be hacked, and any data can be obliterated. I know someone who can do the job.”
My last resort. I stabbed a chunk of something green with a fork.
“You don’t look happy.” She began eating also, swift and efficient. She’d grown used to eating with squads of fighters, where eating was competitive, and often on the run. In war, there was no time to savor the luxuries.
“There are no good choices. I’ll get the chip deactivated. If he wants it removed completely, he’ll have to arrange that later.”
“When he’s the king.”
I nodded.
“I think—” Carlotta broke off what she was saying, clasping her glass before taking a deep swallow. She cleared her throat. “I think you—he may be facing problems within the council.”
“I know that.” Sun and Moon. Did I ever know that. The council had ejected me. They’d taken me from my home, my family, and sent me off to find Helios. I’d have done it on my own, but they’d nearly exiled me. As they had every other military man or woman. I set my fork down and studied Carlotta.
“Where does your loyalty lie? To the council or the king?” Or to her own people? I didn’t ask, but she knew that was part of the question.
She met my gaze. “I am no queen, Griffin. My people are shattered. I’m a soldier now, and my loyalty is to King Helios Dayspring.” Her eyes were steady; her color did not change. I saw no trace of a lie on her face.
“We may have to take the government back by force.”
“I know.” She glanced toward the hall, in the direction of my quarters. “Does he know the true state of affairs among your people?”
“No. I will tell him—after.”
She leaned forward, as though afraid of being overheard. “How is my nephew? And his sister, Diedre?” She flushed slightly. “Your family?”
“I thought you had intelligence on our people.”
“Some, not complete information. I know about your wife. I don’t know the location of the planet.”
Good. Somehow, that made me feel safer.
“I rarely see my daughters, though I talk to them often. They are growing. They miss me.” I felt a slight smile tugging the muscles of my face. “They don’t know I’m coming home. And Alexander is the image of his father. He is strong of heart and will.” Then I thought of Helios’s sister, who was a ghost of the woman she’d once been. “Diedre grieves.” Carlotta still watched my face. She didn’t know. “Diedre’s husband and children didn’t survive.”
“Oh” was all Carlotta said. And it spoke volumes. She understood. Of course she did. She’d been there too. Silence fell. We ate, both tied up in our own thoughts.
“Griffin?” I looked up at her and froze at the expression on her face. She was worried. More than that—she was afraid. “Griffin, what if—after the procedure—what if he doesn’t remember?”
My heart froze. We sat staring at each other, our emotions too raw to be called worry.
“We will remember for him.” My throat felt tight, and I pushed the plate away. “He’s different, but he’s still Helios, and he’s still the king. There’s something in him, Carlotta. Something that’s different from the rest of us.”
“But what if he can’t be king?” I knew what she was asking. What if he remained bound to me? What if he lost his independent will?
“Then it will fall to Alexander.” I swallowed hard. “We will make sure the right person leads.” This was treasonous talk, and we both knew it. But the council had failed us. They’d taken power from Diedre when they should have supported her. “It sounds archaic in this age and time, but our people need a Dayspring on the throne. Perhaps it was bred into us.”
“Or perhaps something was bred into the Daysprings,” Carlotta said softly. “Perhaps before we left Earth.”
“Fresh food? That smells good!”
I nearly jumped from my seat. Helios leaned in the doorway, halfway dressed, hair disheveled and his cheeks flushed. His eyes were overly bright, the pupils hugely dilated. But he was steady on his feet as he joined us at the table.
“Just in time. It’s still hot.” Carlotta pushed a plate in his direction. Her face was pale. Like me, she was probably wondering what he’d overheard. But Helios was transparent, and had never been one to cover his emotions. He ate, clearly enjoying the food. Once he’d tasted a little of everything, he slowed, and looked at me, then at Carlotta.
“The prognosis—not good?”
“What do you remember?” I asked.
“I was pissed at you for telling me to stay behind, but I didn’t want you out there without someone at your back.” He set his fork down. “We fought. Station Security showed up. We left. It’s a little hazy after that, but I remember the Vash healers. Then I woke up.” He pushed his hair back, then rested his jaw on his fist. “The chip is still there?”
I nodded. “We’ll follow our original plan. I know someone who can isolate it and wipe it. Hopefully, he can download whatever data’s on the thing.”
He closed his eyes. He looked weary. I supposed we were all tired, both physically and spiritually. I’d never noticed before how absolutely tired I was. I was tired of space and living in a ship. I was tired of anxiety and worry and fear.
I wanted to go home, to live in a house with my daughters. To go to work and come home after. To watch the sun go down and read books to my girls.
Just like that, I felt a stab of loss, of grief. I missed Suzan so deeply, it reached right to my bones. I breathed through it, reaching out to clasp Helios’s leg. After a moment, the feeling passed. As it always did. I sighed and stood up.
“We have a long journey ahead of us.” I wanted desperately to hold Helios, to never let him go. After the chip was deactivated, he’d begin recovering. He’d begin a journey of his own, one that wouldn’t include me. But I’d do my best to help him on the way. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to restore him to the throne.
I’d even walk him into the den of a monster.
“I’ve some tricky navigation to work out.” I stood, stretched, and headed up to the cockpit. Our journey wasn’t as complicated as all that, but I had to make sure Carlotta would never figure out how to find her way back to where we were going.
THE FOOD helped.
I’d awaken confused, but in all, feeling pretty good. I’d been alone, but the scent of Griffin lingered in the room, like wood and sweat and steel. When I’d joined them at the small retractable dinner table, Griffin and Carlotta had both looked grim, and I wondered what I’d interrupted. No doubt they had the same concerns that gnawed at my gut. What if I wasn’t strong enough to lead a weakened populace? What if I wasn’t good enough or competent?
What if I never remembered?
After Griffin returned to the cockpit, I looked at Carlotta, then back down at my plate.
“You both have faith in me.” She said nothing, so I looked back up at her. Her dark eyes were somber. She folded her hands and rested them on the table. A slight smile curved her lips.
“We do,” she said.
“What if that faith is misplaced?”
She leaned forward slightly. “It isn’t, Helios. And I’m glad you question your ability to lead.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“My father was a king. I knew your uncle. And his sons. You possess one important attribute they lack.”
“Which is?”
“Humility.”
“Really?” I lifted a brow. “I know I’m more than a little pretty. Obviously, I can still fight. And I’ve learned to cook pretty well. I don’t think humility is one of my assets.”
She laughed, and I stared. She’d snarled, smiled, smirked, and glared, but I’d never seen her laugh before. “You have another trait they lacked. Empathy. And humor.” Her laughter faded. “Your primary concern is your own perceived lack of worth. If you lacked the ability to lead, you would not question your own abilities.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Will you be a perfect leader? Of course not. Perhaps you won’t be the best king or queen our people have seen. But your concern isn’t for yourself, it’s for your people. That trait is ingrained in you. It won’t make your life easier. But it will benefit our people.”
My gaze dropped to the smooth surface of the table as I considered her words. I didn’t want to be the king. There were many things I wanted in my life. Carrying the burden of thousands of lives was not among those wishes. But it seemed to be my destiny. I’d been trained for the eventuality, but—
“Carlotta, what if I don’t remember?”
She didn’t answer.
“I know I was a soldier and then a priest. I know I was in the line of inheritance, as was my sister. And my cousin. And now my son. But I don’t remember.” I caught a tiny crumb on the tip of my finger and dragged it over the smooth surface. “I barely know who I am.”
“You are who you are. I think you know yourself far more than most people.” She smiled slightly and stood, looking down on me. “It’s in there, even if you can’t recall at will. More will come in time. Just like your swordplay. What you don’t remember—well, you are who you are. You’ll make the right decisions when the time comes.”
“Swordplay is muscle memory.”
“And you’ll find depths of knowledge from the years of training you underwent. You will act on seeming instinct, but it’s also memory. For the rest, you’ve always been a good man. A smart man. And you have support. Griffin has your back. I’ll cover every other direction.”
“What of my enemies? What if I don’t know them?”
“You’ll figure that out as they show themselves.” She winked. “You’ll find friends and allies in unexpected places as well. Just give yourself time and trust.”
Time and trust. Trust and time. I had little of either commodity. I cleared the table and opened the computer array, adjusting it to project at a low angle over the table. My new home hovered in front of me, a simple planet, much smaller than Arash. A young planet, still forming, with only two large continents. I reduced the image, stacked files of geological surveys, weather history, water tables, and other various dry and boring reports.
I felt a slight jerk as the Aida broke away from her restraints and drifted out to space, waiting for the approval to move up to speed. I secured my safety harnesses and sat waiting, still looking at the rocky planet, trying to imagine it as my future, the planet that would house our people till the end of our days. The computer counted down to zero, and there was a slight tug and smooth acceleration, telling me Carlotta was at the helm.
With a sigh, I transferred the files to my—to our cabin. I shoved back my hair, grimaced at the sleeveless tunic I wore hanging outside my trousers, and folded back the furniture in the galley. We had a lot of hours to fill, and those files would take up a good chunk of that time.
I tied back my hair, tucked in the shirt, and settled back on the bed, opening the files, setting charts and graphs around the room, letting my gut tell me where I should be looking. I settled on the planet itself, zooming in and then out again, learning the locations of rivers and lakes, mountain ranges and fault lines. I noted the forests and studied the types of trees and what they produced. There wasn’t much in the lines of fauna, and the flora was fairly basic and standard. At some point in time, some well-meaning settler moved various nonindigenous plants onto the planet, and obviously, some had flourished. Others hadn’t, or they’d adapted to their foreign environment, allowing it to reshape and change them. No studies had been done on the plants to determine healing properties or toxicity. I shook my head in frustration and moved on.
I finally located the tiny settlement our people had established. Clusters of houses climbed the hills of a valley, one that appeared dark and fertile. I could see other dark images but couldn’t zoom tightly enough to see detail. When we orbited the planet, I’d take a closer look.
The soil was good, and while there was little surface water, surveys had shown underground water systems leading from the mountains. I zoomed out and then back in, trying to make sense of the images.
Somewhere down there, my son lived, unaware that I was returning. My sister. I closed my eyes and called her image to mind, but it was a face from the array cycling through the photo frames. I invited old memories, but they didn’t come. I recalled Griffin finding me in that disgusting bar, our short time on Warlan, and the few nights we’d spent on the station together. That was my world. Those times were concrete and real. My sister and my son were ephemeral figures, planted in my memory by holographic images. They were bits of color and light, lacking details that rooted them in reality.
The past tickled at my mind like a feather: still, soft, and elusive. If I tried to capture a thought or an image, it shivered and vanished. So I became still and unseeking, letting it come to me.
Yet when it came, I wasn’t ready.
“Lio?” Griffin’s voice was husky, as gentle as I’d ever heard him speak. I was grateful that he’d broken the flow of the past, for I’d remembered feelings and sensations, but not detail. I looked at him through tear-dazzled vision. He looked tired. I blinked quickly, clearing my eyes. He didn’t need more complications from me.
“I’m fine,” I said, glancing around the room. I’d opened dozens of files, stacked some to the sides, opened others wide. He started to speak and then broke off, perhaps sensing I was at the edge of emotion I wasn’t equipped to handle. “We need to talk about all this… minerals and soil. Future crops. And why in fuck did they build on a flood plain?”
He sighed and sat on the foot of the bed, facing my chair. “They saw level ground for homes and fertile soil for crops. The council ignored Diedre’s pleas for further study. They refused assistance from the military. They ignored the engineers and scientists who could have warned them.”
“Fatalities?”
“None, yet. Thank the Sun. But it was close. And it’s an all-too-common example of what we’re facing.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the fear and regret wash over me. My tight muscles loosened. I leaned back in the chair, studying Griffin. How well did I really know him? Intimately, of course, but what secrets did he keep? What pain did he hold close? I needed to know everything, but it had to wait. He was weary. But there were questions I had to ask.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I tapped my head, indicating the slave chip. The farther I got from Warlan, the more horrifying its presence became.
He tugged off his boots and tossed them in the direction of the closet, then scooted up the bed till he rested against the wall. There were no frills in this room. No plants or ornaments. It was utilitarian and—bleak. I wondered if the room matched the man.
“I know someone.” His face became grim. “He’s my last resort, but I’ve known since I found you that he’s probably the only option. He’s good with this stuff.” He looked at me, then glanced away. “I know you want it out, but the Vash feel it would be dangerous to remove it. The surgery could damage your brain.”
“What the hell happened to my brain when they put it in?” Terror stabbed my gut. “Griffin, what if this is as good as it gets?” I whispered. He flinched.
“It’s broadcasting. We don’t know what its function is, but I suspect it’s actively suppressing your memory. I believe you’ll begin to recover once its deactivated.”
“You suspect,” I said. “You believe.” I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, he’d extended a hand to me. I looked at him, my fear rippling against a warm tide of peace and well-being.
Artificial emotions. But it felt better than terror. I walked to the bed and took his hand, looking down into his face.
He was weary, but he was strong. He was confident. He had absolute faith, but not in himself. His faith was rooted in me.
“Lights down,” he murmured, and I slid onto the bed next to him, staring at the images of a small, rugged planet floating in the center of the room. I believed in him, and he believed in me. There might be hope for me after all.