Polaris (6 page)

But then a familiar phantom ache blossomed in the back of Jeth's skull around the implant architecture. It was all the
reminder he needed of why they couldn't go back to their former home. Hammer had forced the architecture on Jeth in the hope of making him a part of his organization, one controlled by the power of implants. Jeth had just barely escaped with his mind and free will intact. But Dax, already one of Hammer's elite Brethren soldiers, had claimed Hammer's master implant for himself—and it had changed him.

No, Dax couldn't be trusted. He was the new Hammer now, capable of anything—including selling them out to the ITA. It was a risk they couldn't take.

Jeth exhaled and kept his voice even as he said, “That's your choice, Shady. You're free to go and work for whoever you want. But my job is to keep Cora safe and find some way out of this situation. And I can guarantee you that does not include Daxton Price.”

“What if there is no way out of this?” Shady said, unflinching.

“There is. I just haven't found it yet. But I will. I always do.”

Shady snorted and got to his feet. “Yeah, right. You keep on trying, Boss. Who cares if the rest of us die for the cause?” And with that, Shady strode from the common room, his loud boot steps echoing behind him.

Jeth stood rooted in place, reeling from shock and outrage—and guilt. His determination from a moment before came crumbling down.

Celeste followed Shady's lead, her actions speaking far louder than any accusation she might have thrown at him.

Jeth held his breath, waiting to see who else would do the same. Not Lizzie, of course. And not Milton. They were family. But the idea of Sierra walking out on him made his blood feel like liquid nitrogen in his veins, freezing his heart.

When Sierra got up a moment later, he stiffened. But she came over to him and placed a kiss on his cheek, her lips wet from her tears. “We will find a way out of this,” she whispered. “The ITA won't beat us. Vince didn't die in vain.”

Her words made him feel better and worse at the same time, and he nodded, unable to speak. He was afraid if he did, she would hear the truth in his voice that they were beaten already, and it was only a matter of time before the fall.

MOMENTS LATER, JETH RETURNED TO THE BRIDGE AND
brought
Avalon
to a halt, setting the anchor system to moor them in place. They needed to get rid of the tracker before they headed to the Belgrave. Their haven wasn't safe, but it was certainly secret, the strange energy barrier around the area making it difficult to triangulate positions. But there was no guarantee the barrier would disrupt the tracker enough to prevent Saar from locating them.

Finding the tracker proved easy. When it came down to it, there weren't many places it could be. Lizzie had been on
Avalon
the entire time they had been at Nuvali, and she hadn't seen anyone attempt to approach the ship, not from within the dock or on the outside. There had been a team of repairmen in space suits working on the deck above, but she'd kept a close eye on them and none had come near. No, Saar must've planted the tracker right after killing Vince and before
Avalon
had left the space dock.

Sierra and Jeth both donned space suits and then headed outside the ship. Jeth found the device attached just to the left of the rear access door, low, where it would be hard to see. Small as it was, not quite as wide as the tip of a stylus,
he never would have noticed it if he hadn't known to look.

“Is that it?” he said to Sierra through the comm link.

She maneuvered closer, letting the light from her helmet shine on it. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You don't sound certain.”

“It's a really old model.”

Jeth didn't say anything, his mind plagued with doubts. “Are you sure it is a tracker?”

“Quite sure. Just old. But I suppose that fits Saar's persona.”

“Maybe.” Jeth fell silent as Sierra pulled a tool from her belt and began to pry the device off the ship. He waited, body tensed, convinced that it would explode or simply vanish, proving it was nothing more than a wishful hallucination brought on by two minds deluded by failure and grief. Sierra had gotten her crying under control, but every once in a while she drew a broken, shaky breath, the sound painfully magnified by the comm.

The device came loose a moment later and began to float away. Jeth reached for it, but Sierra stopped him with one gloved hand.

“Leave it. They'll be forced to spend time looking for us in the wrong place.”

“Right.” They weren't near the Belgrave yet, and the chance of Saar guessing their destination was minimal. Still, the sooner they left the area, the better.

But as Sierra started making her way back to the ship Jeth said, “I'll be a minute.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, her expression
difficult to read through the helmet visor. “Don't take too long.” She paused, then added, “Would you like me to break the news to Cora?”

Jeth inhaled, his emotions rising up like a sudden flood. For a second he couldn't speak at all. On the one hand, he didn't want Sierra to face it alone, but on the other, Cora might handle the news better if it came from her. Jeth and Cora had grown close since she'd come into his life a few months ago, but it was nothing like the bond she shared with Sierra. Sierra always seemed to know how to calm her down and keep her from losing control of her ability to phase objects in and out of metaspace. Still . . .

“It's up to you,” Jeth said at last. “Whatever you think is best.”

“I'll tell her, then.” She paused. “It'll be easier on everyone.”

“Thank you,” Jeth said, hating himself for feeling relieved.

Once Sierra was gone, he turned away from the ship's black, sleek side and faced the impossible expanse of open space surrounding him, a dark tapestry threaded with pulsating flecks of light. It was a sight that never failed to remind him of how small and unimportant he was. Even the weightlessness of zero-g was a reminder. He
was
nothing, just an empty, inconsequential thing, here for a fleeting moment before the cells and molecules that had come together to form his body disintegrated back into their smallest, immeasurable units.

And yet, despite how real his nothingness felt, he knew it wasn't. He did matter. His choices had consequences. This
very day he'd made two that had cost Vince's life and those of so many nameless others. Soon he would have to make more decisions, face more consequences. The thought made him want to unlatch the hook on the safety line tethering him to the ship and float away.

But he couldn't do that either. Lizzie and Cora needed him. And so did their mother. Vince was dead, and there was no undoing that, but Marian Seagrave still lived. There was a chance for her.

Jeth allowed himself another few precious minutes of doubt and defeat, knowing he needed to get all the bad out now and leave it behind. He hung there, suspended in space, letting the cold seep in, wrapping around him like an icy cloak. He must be ready to decide his next move when he went inside. The rescue mission remained his goal, but he couldn't ignore what was happening with the crew. As much as he hated to admit it, Shady's anger was justified. Jeth was captain of the ship, but that didn't give him the right to take risks with the lives of its crew. They weren't soldiers dedicated to saving his mother and reuniting the Seagrave family.

The resolution came to him, hard and painful, and he inhaled frigid air into his lungs as he tried to make his peace with it. He had to give them the choice to stay or go—really give it to them, not just spout some rhetorical ultimatum. That meant heading somewhere planetside, a place where they had a chance of landing in secrecy. Benfold Minor would be the nearest. It seemed a decent enough planet. Besides, if Shady or whoever else wanted to go back to Dax, they could contact him from there. The idea of any of his
crew leaving was like a knife to his heart, but Jeth steeled himself against it. He didn't want anyone on his ship who didn't want to be there.

Avalon
was silent as Jeth reentered, the cargo bay a sad, abandoned place with its dim light and the water stains lining the walls and ceiling. He didn't mind the lonely feel. Anything was better than facing Shady or Celeste right now. He headed up the ladder to the bridge, passing no one. He spooled up the metadrive, calculated for the farthest possible jump toward the Belgrave Quadrant, and then gave the others a quick warning through the comm before initiating the jump.

When they came through the other side, he switched off the autopilot and flew the ship manually while he waited for the metadrive to respool. The sense of control the action gave him might've been false, but it made him feel better just the same.

Three hours and several jumps later, they arrived in the Belgrave. Jeth piloted them through the strange energy barrier, ignoring the familiar burst of white noise from the speakers. It was a phenomenon that would haunt them on a regular basis while inside this strange area of space, but they knew from experience that the noise was mostly harmless.

Finally, he brought the ship to a stop and switched on the anchor system. He stood and stretched, confident it was late enough that everyone would be in bed. No one had come to see him or checked in through the comm, which was fine by him. Facing them would be easier in the morning, after
they'd slept and eaten. For once, the idea of food didn't make his stomach react, sadness and stress the best cure for hunger pangs.

Except, as he headed down the ladder to the passenger deck, he saw Sierra coming up the stairs, carrying Cora. The girl had her head resting against Sierra's shoulder, and for a moment, Jeth thought Cora was already asleep. But then she raised her head, revealing a swollen, tear-reddened face.

With his heart giving a wrench in his chest, Jeth held out his arms. Sierra came to a stop, and Cora reached out for him.

“How you doing, baby girl?” Jeth asked, hugging her tight.

“I'm sad,” Cora said as Sierra brushed past them and slid open the door to Cora's cabin, one adjacent to Jeth's. “What happened to Vince is sad.”

Jeth patted the back of her head with his free hand. “I know, but it'll get easier. I promise.”

He wondered how well she actually understood what death meant, that Vince was gone and never coming back. He barely understood it himself. When you were a kid, the only permanence was the here and now, the things you could see and touch. Old toys, once out of sight, were so easily forgotten. Same with old friends and teachers, even pets. To Cora, Vince might've simply left on a long journey. Jeth supposed that sense of impermanence was a blessing.

He followed Sierra into the cabin and waited as she switched on the manual emergency light they'd been using in lieu of a night-light. Then he approached the bed and laid Cora onto it, her head against the pillow.

Stepping back, Jeth saw that, despite the evidence of shed tears lingering on her face, she was calm now. Almost too calm, he realized, taking in her unnaturally large pupils, so much black there was hardly any white at all. He guessed Milton had given her something, maybe even the last of the sedatives on board. Jeth swallowed. They didn't need to use them on Cora often, but it would only take one accident to destroy them all.

Pushing that worry from his mind before Cora sensed his fear, Jeth smiled down at her. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”

She shook her head. “Can I have more story first?”

Jeth hid a wince. The last thing he wanted was to read aloud to her. Fatigue lay heavy on his eyes and twisted his tongue. A cartoon video like the one from earlier would've been easier, but it wouldn't do the job of lulling her to sleep.

“All right.” He picked up the electronic reader beside the bed and switched it on. The words blurred before his vision, and he squinted until he could see them clearly. He sat down beside Cora as Sierra settled herself in the chair opposite the bed.

Jeth searched for the right place on the page and then began to read, stumbling over the archaic words and sentence structures at first. They'd been reading
The Little Mermaid
for three nights now and were almost through. Jeth couldn't wait for it to end; the tale was long, boring, and like so many fairy tales, disturbingly cruel.

Ten minutes later, he read the final sentence then glanced up, hoping to see Cora was asleep. Her dark eyes stared back at him, as wide and alert as ever.

“Am I a daughter of the air?” Cora said.

Jeth blinked, surprised by the question. “Of course not. You're a little girl. Just like the princess.”

Cora shook her head and said in a voice far too old for her years, “But I'm not human, and I'm not a mermaid. So I must be one of them.”

Jeth didn't know what to say, whether to laugh or cry. For a moment he remembered what it had felt like when Cora had once transported him and the rest of the Shades through metaspace. When making the journey in a ship using ITA metatech, the experience was instantaneous, a moment so infinitesimal it didn't seem to exist at all. But when Cora had taken them through, Jeth had been aware of the passing. He'd even dreamed during it, of the Pyreans swirling around him like fish in the ocean, or perhaps like ethereal daughters of the air as in the story. Maybe it had been the same for Cora.

Jeth shifted his weight, contemplating an answer. A lie seemed easiest, but Sierra spared him the decision.

She came over to the bed and sat beside Cora, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “Firstly, the daughters of the air aren't real and you are. Secondly, what you are—human, mermaid, or anything else—doesn't matter. All that matters is the things you do. All right?”

Cora seemed to contemplate the wisdom of this statement. Finally, she nodded and then was overtaken by a huge yawn.

Sierra glanced at Jeth. “I'll stay with her.”

Jeth set the reader back on the table. Then he stood up and bent over Cora long enough to brush his lips against her
forehead. “Sleep well, munchkin.”

“Good night,” Cora said as she scooted back, giving Sierra room to lie beside her. Cora had no trouble falling asleep on her own, but lately she'd been plagued by terrible nightmares. For Cora, nightmares had the potential for physical manifestation in the form of shredded or missing furniture, even holes in the walls, like the one near the foot of the bed that Flynn had patched over with a piece of scrap metal. The nightmares happened less often when she fell asleep with someone beside her, as if the presence of another person kept her unconscious mind anchored to this reality and away from the dimension of metaspace.

As Jeth headed for the door, Sierra called for him to close it. He stopped and did as she asked, his heart an iron weight. Usually, she had him leave the door open so she could slip away more quietly. Jeth tried not to overthink her decision to stay the night with Cora. Knowing her, it was because Cora needed her more than he did. Or so he tried to tell himself.

He entered his own cabin at the head of the corridor, stripped off his clothes, and fell onto the bed, smothering his face in the pillows. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to overtake him. He couldn't remember ever being this tired, as if he'd been sucked dry and hollowed out, a dead battery disguised as human flesh.

But sleep remained just out of reach, blocked by the thoughts that refused to quiet. There were so many worries that they soon became a blur, and he slowly descended into a delirious half sleep in which his fears masqueraded as dreams.

Sometime later, the sound of his cabin door opening brought him fully awake. He didn't move, didn't breathe, as quiet footsteps crossed the room, followed by the soft swish of clothing meeting the floor. The mattress dipped at the foot of the bed and Sierra's familiar scent filled his nose. He slowly inhaled surprise then exhaled his relief, as quietly as he could, uncertain if he should let her know he was still awake or not.

But then her body curled around his, and he shifted to lay his hand against her side, drawing her deeper against him.