Fractured Era: Legacy Code Bundle (Books 1-3) (Fractured Era Series) Read online

  When Dritan looked at her, his eyes had tears in them. He took her by the arms and pulled her onto the bunk.

  They laid together, the pain between them a living thing, pulsing in the silence. He stroked her hair, and she pressed her ear to the coarse fabric of his suit, listening to the reassuring thump of his heart.

  A dull ache throbbed in her chest, a certainty that nothing would ever be right again. If she could do it over, make different choices, she never would’ve asked Zephyr to get them a term here. Things had been simpler on the London. Maybe if they were still there, Zephyr’s father could have kept Dritan from the draft.

  “Era.” Dritan’s fingers stilled, and he stopped running them through her hair. “Don’t talk about the president, the board—any of it. Please. Just keep your head down and wait for me.”

  Era wiped the tears from her cheeks and didn’t answer. What could she say? I’ll die if I lose you.

  “It’ll go fast,” he said. “I’ll be back before you—if you…”

  Before I have the baby. If I have the baby. The thought of what would happen if the baby had the Defect hung in the air between them, unspoken.

  “I’m sorry I have to leave you like this.” He placed a hand on Era’s stomach. “I wanted to be here.”

  “I don’t want to stay up here without you,” Era said, crying again. “There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

  “I have to do my part. Just one solar cycle.” His voice was firm.

  One solar cycle. 150 days. 150 chances for something to go very wrong on Soren.

  Dritan gently rolled Era off his chest and held himself above her, meeting her eyes. “I will come back to you. And I’ll think about you every second I’m not with you.”

  Era’s pulse quickened, and she pulled him close, crushing her lips to his. The pain in her throat eased. He kissed her again, slowly this time, and ran his hand down her body, stopping to cup her breast under her suit. Her nipples hardened against the rough fabric, and she let out a small moan.

  A shiver curled down her spine as he brought his lips to her ear and nibbled there. He teased a trail along her jawline with the tip of his tongue, bringing his mouth back to hers.

  Era trembled and pressed a hand against his chest. “I need you now.”

  He stood, pulled off his boots, and unzipped his suit in one swift movement, never taking his eyes off hers. A sheen of sweat coated his lean muscles. He shrugged his suit the rest of the way off. He was ready for her.

  She sat up and yanked on the zipper of her own suit. It stuck, then ripped away, the worn fabric finally giving up.

  Dritan pulled her to her feet, and her suit fell into a crumpled heap of ruin on the floor. She stepped out of it and placed her hand against his chest. Faint scars he’d gotten in the sublevels criss-crossed his body, and she traced one of them down his abdomen, her fingertips tingling. He lifted her wrist to his mouth to kiss the infinity tattoo that matched the one on his own wrist.

  He crushed his lips to hers and nudged her toward the bunk, hungry for the same release she needed. They fell into it, and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his warm body pressed against her, the feel of his tongue as it found her own.

  He’d fill her up, make her feel whole, safe, wanted. She’d savor this night. It could be the last they ever had together.

  ∞ ∞

  Era sat on their bunk, watching as Dritan stuffed his spare uniform into his bag. Her eyes drifted to the now nearly empty shelf. Only one thing remained. A small folded scrap of exec-standard bedding.

  “Mali picked me as her replacement for archivist.” Era forced out the words. “I said yes.”

  Dritan hefted his bag and tossed it across his body. He gave her a small, proud smile. “I knew she would.”

  He went to the door, but when he hit the button, the door didn’t budge.

  “Come here. Watch,” Dritan said. “You need to learn how to fix this now.”

  Era reluctantly got up and went to the door.

  He slipped a panel off the wall, pulled out a bundle of wires, and twisted the ends of a few, pointing to each one as he did it.

  “If these don’t connect, it won’t open.”

  Era stared hard at the wires. Don’t work. Lock us inside. Make Dritan miss his transport.

  He inserted the twisted wires back in their spot and hit the button. The door opened.

  “Got it now?”

  The lump in Era’s throat expanded, and she nodded. Dritan tilted his head to the side, and with a sad smile, he offered his hand. She took it, and he led her into the corridor.

  The pit in Era’s stomach grew as each step brought them closer to the hangar bay. She tightened her grip on Dritan’s hand, memorized the feel of his warm touch, the way his larger hand encompassed her small one, how each long finger felt intertwined with her own.

  The climb down to zero deck brought back visions of her nightmare. She’d had it again, had lain awake afterward. Dritan wouldn’t be here to keep the nightmares away any longer.

  No matter how she wished this wasn’t happening, how she wished she could freeze time and keep him, the bay drew ever closer. And then they were there.

  A guard stood outside the doors holding a scanner. Dritan lifted his shift card, and the guard logged it.

  Dritan gave it to Era. “Keep it safe. I’ll need it when I get back.”

  She nodded mutely and shoved his card in her pocket.

  Acrid fumes burned her throat as they stepped into the dim hangar bay. A dozen battered transports were docked here, small and pathetic in a vast space that had been built to hold so many more.

  Her nails bit into her palms, and she forced herself to unclench her fists. Stupid to hate machines that were just doing their job. The president and board were the ones sending Dritan down to Soren.

  A crowd of colonists and their loved ones gathered at the loading area—tense, waiting. Era recognized most of them from the galley and the personnel files she’d seen at the repository.

  As Era and Dritan reached them, a child cried out from somewhere in the crowd. Era’s heart lurched, and she turned toward the source of the sound. The blonde, Janet Lanar, snuggled close to her husband, their small daughter in her arms.

  Lucky enough to have a healthy child, then ripped away from her family by the draft. None of this was fair.

  Era tore her gaze from the little girl’s face and gripped Dritan’s hand tighter. He squeezed three times. She blinked away tears and squeezed back. I. Love. You.

  Dritan’s mother had taught him that. It was one of the only things he remembered about her. Would he get the chance to hold their child’s hand—show his love without needing a word?

  They stood in silence and waited for the transport pilot to begin the boarding process. Her palm grew slick against Dritan’s, but she didn’t let go.

  Zephyr hurried through the doors. She rushed over to them, her face red, hand pressed to her side. “I heard at mess. If I had more time, I could’ve sent a comm to my father, or—”

  “I wouldn’t have let you.” Dritan narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “I won’t stay here while my crew risks their lives.”

  An alarm blared from the transport, and its heavy metal door began its slow descent to the ground. Era’s stomach dropped. Dritan lifted her chin and turned her face away from the transport.

  Breathe. This was it. He’d be gone soon. She needed to remember. She burned his image into her mind. The curves of his face, smooth dark skin, high cheekbones, hazel eyes glistening with tears that matched her own. And that way he looked at her that let her know how much she was loved.

  “I’m coming back,” he whispered.

  Era nodded. She’d break down in front of everyone if she tried to speak.

  The pilot began calling out the list of names. Janet and her family, engaged in a tearful good-bye, stepped into Era’s line of sight.

  No. This was happening too fast. She couldn’t let Dritan leave. She had to f
ind a way to keep him here.

  “Dritan Corinth,” the pilot called out.

  Era’s body went cold, and the pressure in her chest made it hard to breathe. Dritan wrapped his strong arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. Would this be the last time she kissed him?

  The embrace ended too soon.

  “I love you.” His eyes shone.

  “I love you.” Era barely heard her voice.

  Dritan’s eyes flicked to her belly, and he rested his hand there for a moment before stepping away. He looked at Zephyr. “You watch out for her.”

  “I will. Don’t worry,” Zephyr said.

  He nodded, and Era reached up on tiptoes to kiss him once more. He stood straight, threw his shoulders back, and boarded the transport.

  Era wiped the tears from her eyes as the transport door closed. The alarm sounded again, and the hangar bay workers ordered everyone to leave.

  “Come on. We have to go,” Zephyr said quietly.

  Era followed the rest of the family members out of the hangar bay and turned to watch the doors slide closed behind them. The transport started up on the other side, and the metal doors vibrated in response.

  He’s going to be fine. He’ll come back. He always comes back. But the tears came anyway, spilling down her cheeks. None of her thoughts could erase the dread that had taken root in her stomach. Because some primal part of her knew.

  She was never going to see Dritan again.

  Era gripped the edge of the archivist station, the holo interface blurring before her. Six days. Dritan had been on Soren for six days. One hundred forty-four days left to go. Her limbs ached, and her mind felt dull from exhaustion. Each night she’d woken, gasping for breath. The empty womb, blood on the landing, being sucked into space…her nightmare made her fear sleep.

  She tried to focus on what Mali was showing her on the stationary, but her eyes drifted to the colonists waiting to record messages for loved ones. Several couples, one little girl. Quiet, not engaged in conversation like they usually were. The change she’d sensed in the ship since the traitors were airlocked lingered everywhere.

  In every sector, there were fewer words spoken, cut-off conversations, and more suspicious glances. Or maybe she was just seeing tension because of how she felt every minute of every day.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Mali asked.

  She stepped in front of Era. The holo shimmered, and the long list of commands merged with Mali’s clothing and skin.

  Era twisted a wrist, and her eyepiece shut off, removing the nausea-inducing image.

  “Do you need some time, child?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  Mali raised her eyebrows. “Dritan’s doing his job, and we’re doing ours. Being an archivist is important. I need to know you’re ready for this.”

  “I am. I’m ready.”

  Mali shifted her gaze to some point beyond Era. Era turned, half-expecting to see Zephyr. But it was only Chief Petroff, making his way to the station.

  Mali had moved Zephyr to first shift, said she needed to train with other techs since Era would be too busy now. But someone else on second shift could’ve trained Zephyr. It seemed more about keeping Era from distraction than about training Zephyr. Era only got to see her during mess and midbreak now.

  Chief Petroff reached the station and set down a large metal case and an archive case. “Comms and an order from the board.”

  Comms. Was it too soon for there to be one from Dritan?

  Mali opened the archive case. Inside were the archive cubes from the last order, plus an additional cube, set off to the side. The new cube order.

  Mali took the guard’s shift card, scanned it into the stationary, and handed it back. She popped the cube order into the slot on the stationary. “Is this urgent? I’m training her. It’ll take me a little longer to get everything today.”

  Chief Petroff grunted. “I’ll be back by shift’s end for the order,” he said and walked off.

  “I expect you’ll be granted access to the archives any day now. But until then, we’ll work on the stationary,” Mali said.

  Era reactivated her eyepiece and tried to concentrate on the gestures Mali made as she moved through the system, but she couldn’t pull her eyes from the comm case.

  “As soon as I show you this, you can sort through those cubes. But right now, I need you to pay attention.”

  “Sorry.” Focus, Era.

  The cube order appeared on the holo. It contained a short list of numbers and letters, followed by descriptions.

  “The numbers and letters on each line are the codes for specific cubes in the archives. The descriptions contain keywords for information they want us to find that they don’t have the codes for.”

  Mali gestured and pulled up a search grid next to the words and used her index finger to draw one line of search terms into the grid. “You can drag the terms or say ‘new entry’ to search manually.”

  Theory; Artificial Environments; Dome construction; Blueprints.

  Era’s breath caught in her throat. Artificial environments? Dome construction? Did this have something to do with Soren?

  Mali hit scan, and a new list appeared.

  “The first cube code usually matches the query best, but not always,” Mali pointed to the top code on the list. “So we send that one up first. If executive sends down for more information, we send them the next relevant matches, in order.”

  “Why would they be searching for—?”

  “Era,” Mali said, her voice low. “You do not discuss what you see here. Not ever. Cube orders are confidential. Our job is not to analyze why they call up these cubes. Our job is to care for the archives and no more.”

  “I understand. But—as an archivist, have you ever…looked at one of the archive cubes?”

  Mali rubbed the back of her neck. “Only in very rare instances and only with prior approval. Though we do have access to cubes that relate to our archivist duties.”

  Mali cocked her head to the side, considering Era. “Every time a cube from the archive is accessed,” she said carefully, “it logs an eyepiece signature to show who accessed it.”

  Era swallowed. “I understand.”

  Mali held her gaze for a moment and nodded. “Good.”

  She brought up the cube order again, the keywords replaced by a list of codes. She pulled the order from the stationary and pushed it into the slot on her handheld. Then, she picked up the archive case. “While I return these and get the new order, you sort the comms and label them like I showed you.”

  “Can I—”

  “If you find one from your husband, you can look at it. I won’t make you wait.” Mali headed for the archives.

  Era grabbed the comm case and unlatched it. Eleven containers lay within. The twelfth space was empty. It would have held comms for executive sector. The rest of the containers were labeled with the names of each of the ten dekas and Soren: all the places messages could come from or be sent to. Era reached for the container labeled Soren.

  Something turned over within her womb, and her hand flew to her stomach. Then another small movement, more obvious this time. The baby.

  She’d almost convinced herself she hadn’t felt anything that day in helio sector, that it had just been her imagination. But there it was again, the fluttering sensation.

  The Defect is a lie.

  Era’s amnio results were probably ready by now, but she hadn’t gathered the courage to go to Medlevel and schedule her appointment. She couldn’t put it off much longer. Zephyr said she’d go with her, but that didn’t make any of it more bearable.

  Era took a deep breath and glanced at the holo. The search results were gone now, but the holo was still logged into the search grid. She really should turn it off and begin sorting the comm cubes like Mali had asked her, but what the traitor had said…

  She took a quick look around to make sure she was still alone. Mali had entered the archives, and only a few colonists waited on the benches
to record messages.

  She tapped the grid.

  “New entry,” she whispered. “The Defect. Legacy Code.”

  The words appeared on the entry line, and Era selected scan to begin the search. A long list of cube codes appeared, and Era’s pulse quickened.

  What was she even hoping to find? The Defect wasn’t a lie. The Defect from the Legacy Code was real, and here were all the files to prove it.

  Era memorized the first result, repeating it over and over until it stuck. CD-1dy34b.

  She accessed the program’s memory core and wiped her search. What was she thinking, looking this stuff up? What was the point, when she couldn’t access the cubes anyway?

  Era picked up the container labeled Soren. At least three dozen cubes lay within. If Dritan had the chance to record a message, he would’ve. And she really needed to see his face and hear his voice right now.

  She found his message halfway through the stack. His still holo image made her heart hurt. His features were downcast, and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look like the man she’d kissed good-bye. And this message would’ve been recorded as soon as he’d landed. How bad was it down there?

  She hadn’t been close to anyone who’d been there, but she’d glimpsed those who’d come back to the London after the first draft. She’d heard their stories, second-hand: cave-ins, malfunctioning air purifiers, tainted water supplies, accidents with machinery. Many workers from the first draft had broken bodies and were nothing more than a burden to the fleet.

  The survivors had stayed on their levels, rarely venturing upward. She’d seen them during her brief visits with Dritan in the sublevels. But all the survivors, visibly broken or not, wore haunted expressions, as if the people they’d lost on Soren still visited them at night, stealing their sleep. When Dritan came back, would he look like that? If Dritan came back…

  Era’s stomach flipped, and she reached for a handheld under the station. She took Dritan’s comm cube from the stationary and sank to the floor behind the desk. No one needed to watch her cry. The tears were already coming, and she hadn’t even started the holovid yet.