The Seek (22 page)

‘Get some sleep,’ Kyn ordered. ‘We’ll move out after two more watches.’

The two young people moved back down to the lower levels of the outcrop, swallowed by the dark.

Kyn stalked around the circular platform created by the boulder several times, getting the lay of the land, flicking her scope open and checking out the lights a few more times. Finally, she decided which side was the most exposed, and pointed to the other. ‘You take that side,’ she ordered Symon.

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he confirmed, flicking her a mock salute.

Once he was settled in place, Kyn took her own position. It was important to stand while you were on watch. Sitting led to idleness, and sloppiness. She would stay standing, careful and alert, during the two-hour watch.

Ten minutes passed before Symon spoke. ‘What do you make of those stars?’

Kyn glanced up at the lightshow above them, the brightness of the white-yellow stars punctuated by the fizzing purple streaks. ‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘But I guess you see that kinda stuff all the time, flyboy.’

‘Not on a planet like this,’ he murmured.

And Kyn got it. Even with the frost in the air, this place was too seductively familiar. It felt so good not to use a breather, and the feeling of the air on the places where it hit exposed skin was almost achingly nostalgic. This could have been Earth. She reconsidered it a little. Well, it could have been Earth five thousand years ago. It was so pristine; there were no visible signs of intelligent activity. Then she thought about some of the things humans had done to the old Earth. The pollution, and the food wars. Maybe not so intelligent, after all.

‘Don’t overthink it, Kyntura,’ Symon growled from the other side of the boulder. ‘Just look at those stars.’

And Kyn did. The full, black sky had an almost pinkish tinge to it, and it was rich in star clusters and nebulae. Stars systems swept across the canvass above them, swirling and twinkling. Kyn knew stuff about what the colours and patterns meant in the stars — the delicate filigree of the older star systems, the weeping willow tracks of some of the others. But she wouldn’t think about all of that now. For now, she would just lean against this rock and enjoy it. It was perfect.

‘Feels good to see it from down here,’ she said quietly.

‘I getcha,’ Symon said. ‘Doesn’t feel so damn scary.’

Kyn swallowed. ‘You get scared?’

He laughed, sounding all grown up with that deep, throaty chuckle, but also weirdly so much like the boy she’d known that her throat constricted. ‘Every day of my life,’ he confirmed. He paused. ‘What about you? You too big and tough to get scared now, Chickita?’

A smile tugged at Kyn’s mouth, remembering when he had started calling her that. It was the first night they had taken off, left the Earth behind forever to head into deep space. He had found her in her low bunk, her fingers in her ears. The first generation of stations were rattly as hell. He had pulled her up and pulled the fingers out.

***

‘
Don’t you like the noise?’ he said, his pretty, boyish face serious
.

She shook her head
.

He raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Never pegged you as chicken.’ They both knew it was laughable. Kyn was always the one who would run the farthest, climb the highest tree, or pull the evil prank on the teacher, knowing for sure she’d get caught. It was just something he said to remind her of herself. And because he knew she needed to be reminded right then
.

And then, to make her laugh, he made the
bok bok bok
of the hens at the farm, and he tickled her. When he finally stopped, he held her down on the bunk by her arms. He was stronger than her
.

For one crazy moment she thought he was going to kiss her, as he leaned in close
.

But then
.

‘I’m not going to call you Kyntura anymore,’ he announced, his face grave. ‘I’m gonna call you Chickita.’

***

Kyn snapped back to the present, cursing herself for chatting like they were at a school reunion and gazing at the stars like some dreamer when she should be on watch. She glanced over at the horizon. That dull light. Someone was here; something was here. What was it? Was it the Haitites? Or some other, unknown evil? Did whoever was out there know where the camp was — had they found Eden HQ? Did they know her crew had landed also? And what would they do about it if they did?

‘No talking on watch,’ Kyntura snapped.

‘Aye aye, Chickita,’ Symon said from his side of the rock.

And she was sure she could hear him smirking.

A little less than two hours later their watch was done, and the first purple streaks of morning were backlighting the stars.

Symon came up quietly behind her as she re-set her comms. ‘Short night,’ he said.

‘Mmm,’ she agreed. ‘I think I’ll wake the others and we can set out early.’ She glanced over at the light on the horizon, less visible now that the sky was lightening around them. ‘Better to get there, I think.’ She glanced down at the sleeping Avengers. ‘And the Som will’ve done a good job on them — they’ll be fine for the journey.’

She turned to focus on Symon. He didn’t look tired in the least. ‘I never take it,’ he said.

‘The Som?’ She was surprised. ‘Why not?’

He shook his head. ‘None of it,’ he explained, waving a hand. ‘The Som, the Connect, the Lighten, and the rest. None of it.’

She frowned, trying to read his face, which had darkened and become unreadable again. ‘Why not? God knows I couldn’t cope without it on these missions.’

‘I like to know what I’m taking,’ he said, leaping down from the boulder in an impressively fluid move.

‘But you seem so strong,’ Kyn said, almost to herself, as he bent down to shake the relief crew, and they flew up onto the boulders. She’d need them keeping watch while she roused and readied the troops. ‘You don’t take Grande?’

He turned his face up towards her from the lower ledge, and smiled. ‘Like I said, I like to know what I’m taking.’

Kyn sighed. ‘You like to know everything,’ she said, jumping to join him.

He turned to face her, and there was something in his face in that moment — something so carefully shielded, but wise and somehow vulnerable — that Kyn was blown away by the sheer magnetic power of him. ‘I guess I do,’ he said.

Kyn felt frozen in the moment as he reached over slowly and touched the side of her face, very gently. Kyn didn’t let anyone touch her, and certainly not like that.

Why did she let him?

Was it because they’d been kids together, or because he had always taken liberties with her?

Or because of the other thing?

His voice was very soft. ‘But it’s better than the alternative, Chickita.’

The moment passed with a rush, and Kyn felt heat light her cheeks as he dropped his hand. ‘And what’s that?’ She wanted to rumble, felt herself all set to pick a fight with him.

‘Knowing nothing,’ he said.

She set her mouth, and thought about that meeting with The Council, almost ten years before. ‘I know things you’d never dream about.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, Kyntura,’ Symon said, turning away from her. ‘And you might even start to believe it. You only know what they want you to know.’ He grabbed his pack, pointing to the stream that snaked below the outcrop. ‘I’m going to wash up.’

Kyn stood watching him, allowing herself a few moments before she woke the rest of them. What did he mean; what could he possibly have meant? He acted like he knew things, and his earlier comments about The Backlash snaked back into her mind. If he had anything to do with all of that, he was likely to end up in serious trouble. Why didn’t people understand that war meant sacrifice and hardship? You couldn’t plan a battle as a democracy.

Symon padded gently down to the stream, and she kept watching him, even though she knew very soon she would have to start shaking Avengers awake and briefing them on the journey ahead. He hit the edge of the water and dumped his pack, sheltering carefully behind a largish moss-covered rock. But she moved to get a better view of him.

Not for voyeurism, she told herself. Just…just for something.

He pulled off his stretchy purple shirt and Kyn’s breath hitched at the raw view of him. His skin, always so brown, had grown incredibly muscular. His stature rivalled that of many of the Avengers she knew. Big round biceps stood out from his arms and sweet vertical obliques framed his back as he turned away from her a little. The dark hair he kept a little long licked the back of his neck, and a series of dark green tattoos ringed almost all of his left arm. They looked like chains from where Kyn was standing, but she couldn’t be sure. She made a quick decision, and snapped open her scope. Voyeur or no, she needed to know more about what had happened to Symon in the last ten years.

As she focused the scope she saw that yes, the tattoo on his arm was made up of a series of chains, rings of deep-green links, like someone had wrapped almost his entire right arm in them. They were intricate, though old-fashioned, and beautiful; like something you might have seen in a museum, a relic from a medieval castle. She had no idea what they meant. As she moved the scope slowly back upwards, it swept across his back, and she saw the word
demos
, tattooed in lettering of the same dark green. She sounded the word out: it meant nothing to her. She started to lower the scope, meaning to close it, but as she did, her eyes caught on something else, and she moved it carefully back into position.

All across Symon’s back stretched a web of scars — tiny crisscrossing triangular ridges that looked familiar. Kyn studied them carefully, her heart racing. Where had she seen this patterning?

Then she closed the scope with a snap.

Fuck
.

They were scars from a solar whip. A secret, excruciating weapon used only by the people of New Earth. Its existence contravened all the laws of the Universal Pact, so it was known only a small circle of those in the know on New Earth. And it was used only on its own, in the secret dungeons of Earth Three.

Symon had been tortured.

***

It was hard to concentrate as they advanced through the jungle in the dim light. So many questions clouded her thinking, like the sticky vines they pushed through to make their way towards the Avenger camp.

Symon, tortured. So he’d been on Earth Three. But they can’t have known who he was, whose son he was, or otherwise they would never have done it. At least, not done it and let him live to tell the tale. What had he done to earn their wrath? And how the hell had he escaped?

And now here he was, a highly-decorated nav.

None if it made any sense.

Her first inclination, on seeing the scars, had been to storm down the ridge to the stream, demand answers. But this was not one of her boys. She could not tear the answers from him as she might have liked to. This was Symon, her Symon, her oldest friend and the first boy she had ever…

She pushed the thoughts away. There was no time now. They needed to make the camp by nightfall, and by her reckoning, the days as well as the nights were shorter here. She would talk with Symon about what had happened, and about what the hell he was doing now. She would.

If they survived this, she would.

They moved carefully forwarded, in star formation, Kyn at the centre, Tabi behind her, with a tail and flanks to protect her vulnerable points, and an advance guard team ahead. The forest was steamy; sweat ran down her spine. She used her sabre on green to slash through the low-hanging plants and vines and make a path, and all her senses were on high alert. The Avengers around her were also treading carefully, but she registered that they were excited by this alien world. They had been some places; some places other than the stations. But no place like this.

Never anywhere like this.

She could already feel them settling in.

Tabysha trilled the low signal call behind her, and ten Avengers and Symon stopped. One team and Krysto had stayed behind with the ship. Kyn tried very hard not to scream. This was the third time Tabi had used the signal, and Kyn didn’t even turn around this time. She was not sure she could take the sight of her friend trimming another fern frond or filling a vial with sap. It was important that they understood this new star, she got that, but she’d be damned if she had to watch every excruciatingly slow sample collection. It would be the death of her. Kyn was many things — patient was not one of them.

As she waited, she became aware of something, and tried to isolate what she was feeling. She closed her eyes to better compute it; and there it was. The very slightest shift in the pattern of sound. A low hum added to the other jungle sounds she had been sifting and filing to better understand the terrain they were moving through.

‘Down,’ she called, raising her fist so the others could see it and then flattening it against her other hand. Twelve bodies hit the ground in one smooth move. Kyn spun around as she went down and saw that even Tabysha had obeyed without question, a small vial flung beside her. Kyn’s eyes sought out Asha’s, whose team was closest to Tabi on the right. He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded. He shimmied over closer to Tabi, and motioned Rexas to the Explorer’s other side.

And then the jungle was alight. Orange arrows lit up the dark green space around them, turning it into a red, orange and white fireball. Kyn couldn’t see where the missiles were coming from — they seemed to be completely surrounded. A scream to her left alerted her that the hot spears were finding their marks. It was Tyrin.

‘Cover,’ she screamed, and twelve bodies headed for the nearest tree. Kyn noticed Asha and Rexas almost lifted Tabi bodily between them and carted her to a dense patch nearby.

Kyn scanned the fireball the forest had turned into, her breath coming hard and fast as the reality of their plight hit home. There were no safe spots; there was no real cover. Their only hope lay in finding the source and neutralising it. She rolled towards Tyrin, whose big body lay bleeding on the loamy ground a few metres from her. His childlike blue eyes were rolling back in his head as he clasped his stomach. ‘What is it?’ she said, trying to get a handle on what they were using.