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

  The barest hint of a smile crossed Dritan’s lips. “I can’t say I felt sorry for him.”

  “That’s what he gets for setting you up.”

  Dritan looked at her, a strange expression on his face.

  “What?”

  “The way you stood up to him during first shift… I’ve never seen you act like that before.”

  Maeve looked down at her distorted reflection in the canteen’s scratched metal. “Well, I went to see Gilly after. She lost part of her arm.”

  “But she’s alive,” he said. “You’d be dead if you’d gone in there. You know it. Everyone knows it.”

  “It should have been me.”

  Dritan shook his head with a frown. “When you went to medbay…”

  “Yeah?”

  “You see Cass?”

  The darkness broke through Maeve’s wall again, and her chest grew heavy with it. “Yeah. Same as before. Said I needed to bugger off. Grow up, do my duty. She said I should pair.” She nudged Dritan playfully. “So how ‘bout it, Corinth? If I live through this, wanna pair with me? You’re the only one dumb enough to stick by my side.”

  Dritan hesitated, then ran a calloused finger along her cheek. Her brows went up in surprise from the gentle touch. His hazel eyes were soft, and the look in them…

  “And you’re the only one who volunteered,” he said, his voice husky. “The only one.”

  She broke eye contact and let out a nervous laugh. “Is that a no?”

  Dritan took another drink, then gave her a small smile. “I’m not what you want.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I want, does it?” Kak. Wrong thing to say. Why did she always say the wrong thing?

  Dritan’s eyes gave his feelings away, even as he tried to hide them. Maeve had fooled around with some of the other guys—experimenting, trying so hard to feel something with them. But never once had she crossed that line with Dritan. She’d always known he cared too much. She’d just tried to pretend that didn’t matter.

  Conflicting emotions tore through her. She loved Dritan… as a friend. But she couldn’t imagine being forced to pair with anyone else, to share that sort of intimacy with any other man. But she’d probably die tomorrow anyway.

  Her eyes burned as she took another gulp of alcohol. “What I mean is…” she said, her voice small. “You’re my best friend. If it isn’t you, then… who?”

  He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close. She cuddled into his chest, her eyes welling with the tears she’d been fighting to banish all day. What had it cost him, watching her love someone else, watching her want to die while still being there for her day after day?

  Dritan stroked her short hair, running his fingers through it. “Just come back,” he said, his voice rough. “Come back to me, and ask me again… I’ll say yes.”

  Her tears broke through at his words, but she blinked them away as he held her. If she could admit the truth about Dritan, then it was time she admitted the truth about herself… that she couldn’t love him, or any man, the way other women loved men. And Dritan deserved something real, not whatever she could offer him, even if she somehow did manage to survive Soren. She scooted up and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

  “Nah. Don’t wait for me,” she said in his ear. “I want you to fall for some other girl and be happy. Win the lotto. Make a cute little Corinth baby. Promise me that?”

  He nodded.

  “Promise.”

  He paused for a long moment. “Yeah. I promise.”

  “Now how ‘bout another drink?”

  Maeve and Dritan stayed up for another hour, working on the hooch, until they were drunk enough to laugh and relive old memories, like the time Fenton pissed himself in front of everyone after a night of drinking a particularly bad batch of bootleg. At some point, they drank themselves to sleep, and they didn’t wake until the first shift buzzer sounded.

  They solemnly marched upstairs to change and visit the lavs, and by the time they reached singles sector, it was empty, everyone already at first mess. When they were done, they returned to the main stairwell.

  “Do you want me to come with you to the hangar bay?” Dritan asked, his voice strained. She shook her head, and he wrapped her in a strong hug. “You can get through this. I know you can.”

  “Sure I can. And lucky for you, I’m taking Fenton with me. Try not to celebrate too much.”

  He laughed. “You stay safe. You still owe me a game of chips. I expect you to make good on that when you get back.” Dritan’s eyes were glistening, barely. This was getting dangerously close to tear-territory.

  She winked at him. “A better world awaits, right?”

  “A better world awaits,” he echoed.

  Saying good-bye seemed too much like admitting she was about to die, so she set her shoulders and hurried down the steps, leaving Dritan behind.

  The stairwell was deserted, and Maeve tried hard not think about burning up in Soren’s atmosphere… but failed miserably. As she rounded the final landing before zero deck, she came to a halt, gripping the railing tight.

  Cassia stood outside zero deck’s entrance in her blue medbay suit, all alone. Her brown hair was mussed, her eyes puffy and red. Seeing her like that shattered Maeve’s calm and sent her heart rate skyrocketing.

  Cass caught sight of her and jogged up the steps, meeting her on the small landing. “They were talking about a volunteer this morning at mess. And it was you. You volunteered.” An accusation, not a question.

  “Yep. I did.”

  Cassia grabbed Maeve by the shoulders and squeezed hard, her face crumpling. “Don’t you get it? They’re all going to die. All of them. I can get you off the mission. Let me try talking to Zephyr… ”

  “You wanna use the captain’s daughter like that?” Maeve pushed Cassia away and crossed her arms over her racing heart. “If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Why are you here?”

  Cassia didn’t answer, just stared her down with those deep blue eyes, her hands in tight fists, her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

  “You made it pretty clear yesterday how you really feel.” Maeve tried to inch around her. “I’m gonna be late.”

  Cassia grabbed Maeve’s arm. “I do care.”

  Maeve hesitated, feeling sick. “I gotta go.”

  “I care,” Cass said. “I just think… that it’s not right.”

  “What’s not right?” Maeve whirled to face her and stepped closer, backing Cass into the wall. They were so close, she could feel Cassia’s warm, rapid breath on her cheek. “Say it.”

  Sparks danced between them, electric in the silence, and Cass glanced up the empty stairwell nervously.

  Maeve was teetering on the edge, about to fall over. This felt too daring, here in the open, but she’d never come so close to acting. Had never come so close to forcing Cassia to speak the unspoken. What did she have to lose now?

  “What’s. Not. Right?” Maeve repeated, her voice husky.

  “It’s not right…” Cassia licked her lips. “It’s not right that they’re sending you. That you volunteered.”

  Maeve let all her feelings show on her face. “Is that all?” Her hand moved of its own volition, and she grazed Cassia’s full lips with her thumb.

  They trembled beneath her gentle touch.

  Cassia’s breathing went shallow. “This thing between us isn’t… normal. It’s not… real.”

  Maeve took a deep breath and cast aside her fear, knowing this might be the only chance she got. She pressed her lips to Cassia’s, savoring the soft, smooth warmth of them. Cassia went rigid for a moment, then relaxed into the kiss, returning it.

  New sensations raced through Maeve, different from anything she’d ever felt with the boys. She wrapped an arm around Cassia, pulling her closer, running a hand down her lower back, seeking her hips, then the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her suit. Cass didn’t try to stop her.

  The new, heady feelings were suffocating, so intense Maeve felt her
self losing control. Then the fear seized her—that she’d just crossed a line she could never uncross, and she pulled away. Both of them were breathing hard, and Cassia’s hand went to her lips, her expression a mixture of shock and open desire.

  She feels it.

  She feels what I feel.

  The realization made Maeve bold. “Was that real enough for you?”

  Cassia met her gaze, and her cheeks reddened. “Yes.”

  Heat radiated through Maeve’s chest at that single word, and then Cassia leaned in to kiss her with a hunger she hadn’t had before. She led the way, opening her mouth to find Maeve’s tongue. Desire and desperation heated the space between them as the precious minutes they had left slipped away.

  The buzzer sounded, signaling an end to first mess, and voices filled the stairwell. They broke apart, breathless.

  “I have to go.” Maeve searched Cassia’s face, desperately memorizing every curve, every line.

  “Then you have to come back.”

  Maeve let out a laugh. “After that? It’s probably better for us both if I don’t.”

  “No. It’s better for me if you do.” Cassia looked like she was about to cry.

  Pain tore through Maeve at the devastation on Cassia’s beautiful face. “Even if I come back… We can’t…”

  “We’ll just have to patch that panel when it fails,” Cassia said firmly, using a sublevel phrase she’d learned from Maeve.

  The crowds reached them, colonists flowing around them on the way to work, shooting them irritated looks for blocking the landing.

  “Good-bye, Cassia,” Maeve said.

  Cass nodded, blinking back tears, then ran up the stairs, back to exec level and her other life.

  Maeve walked down the stairs and through the zero deck doors. As she made her way to the hangar bay, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

  Whatever happened next, she felt ready to face it.

  As Maeve entered the hangar bay, she slowed to take it all in. She’d never been in here before—had never had a reason to be.

  The transport ships were docked in even rows, but there were far fewer ships than docking bays. A small group of subs and techs had gathered near an active transport at the center of the bay.

  Flight crews swarmed around it, getting everything ready. The sound of the engines warming up echoed off the high beams of the bay, and the pungent scent of the fuel stung Maeve’s nostrils. An ancient, dinged infinity symbol was engraved along one panel, just like on the cargo ships the Moscow used to distribute supplies.

  But these were different and much smaller. The ramp had been lowered, and she glimpsed the cockpit, with room for two pilots, and seats lining the interior for a small crew. Flight subs and techs loaded equipment into the cargo hold at the back.

  Someone near the wall called out to her, and she stopped walking, disoriented as a flight tech came over.

  “You need to scan in,” he said.

  She clumsily got her shift card out of her pocket and held it against the man’s handheld scanner. His eyepiece went from clear to reflective as her data showed up on his holographic display. He twisted his wrist, shutting it off, and gave her a look she couldn’t read.

  “I have to collect your shift card if you’re with the draft.”

  Of course. Couldn’t waste a good piece of plastic. They recyced these cards as soon as a colonist died. Probably weren’t even gonna wait to recyc hers.

  As she handed him her card, he gave her a respectful nod. “Thank you for volunteering. And good luck.”

  Maeve grunted a response and headed for the rest of the group, her palms getting damper with each step. More colonists trickled in after her, and finally Head Enforcer Jacobs arrived.

  She had bags under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept any better than Maeve had.

  “Good morning to you all,” she said, calling the small group to order. “The Kyoto transport is landing as we speak. You’ll go next, and the Perth transport will follow. The probe data has been programmed into this transport to help lead you safely to the planet’s surface. Now we know that the area where you’ll be landing has extreme temperatures—swinging from high heat during the day to below freezing at night, but your gear will keep you at a safe temperature. The air is not breathable, so ensure your helmets are intact at all times. I trust you all remember your space gear training, but if you have any questions, ask the flight techs as you suit up.

  “The flight crew leading the mission has been well-trained. Their primary objective is to deliver the equipment on that transport safely to the surface.” She pointed to the cargo hold of the transport. “If your descent is rocky, they will release the equipment close to the ground, where parachutes will cushion the landing. You need to find the gear, claim it, and get it operational. You’ve all used this hardware before, during asteroid stops.”

  Low murmurs filtered through the group, and Maeve kept her eyes on the transport, every muscle tense.

  “The Perth crew will establish temp shelters that will house all of you,” Jacobs continued. “Your flight techs have equipment to help locate them once you land. Communications often lapse during landfall, but as you descend, we should get enough data to ensure more colonists can arrive safely. When we have enough, more transports will follow. The first few weeks will be difficult, but this planet is bound to have some of the resources we need, and you’ll be responsible for establishing shelter below ground for incoming miners.”

  Maeve’s mouth went dry at the words, and she glanced to her right, expecting Dritan to be at her side like always. But Fenton stood there instead, his pale skin looking greenish in the bay lights.

  She averted her eyes. If they lived… she hadn’t thought beyond the dying part. If she survived the landing, she’d still have to survive weeks of dangerous conditions to help establish a settlement for everyone else. Might be better if she did die coming through atmo.

  “You are all young and strong,” Jacobs said, her voice louder now. “We’re sending you down because you have the best chance of completing the mission and being assets to our flight crew. This is the most important mission you’ll ever do. Focus on it at all times, and remember your training.”

  What training? The flight crew assembled near the transport had all the training. The subs and techs around her… they were just warm bodies. Extra colonists to send out to do the most dangerous work if they reached Soren’s surface. Expendable. Maeve took a deep breath and pressed her lips together.

  The head enforcer gestured to the flight crew leader and then turned back to them. “A better world awaits,” she said.

  “A better world awaits,” the group murmured in automatic response.

  Everyone around Maeve looked sick as they were led to the space gear changing area.

  Maeve picked a spot next to the lockers and turned her back on the others. She slipped out of her sublevel suit and into the once-white undersuit that went beneath the spacegear. It was too tight against her bandaged wounds, and she grimaced as the cloth chafed them.

  While folding up her suit to turn it in, her fingers slid over her pendant. She removed the star-shaped bit of metal from the pocket, her throat tightening at the way the polished metal glinted beneath the lume bars. It was worn around the edges, no longer pointed like it might once have been. Maybe it hadn’t been lucky enough to keep her mother safe, but wearing it was like having a part of her parents still with her, so she wouldn’t leave it behind.

  She dropped the star into the thigh pocket of her undersuit and climbed into the heavier spacegear. The thick fabric of the suit made her sweat even more as a flight tech helped set up her water line and loaded her collar with liquid oxygen packs. He tested her helmet for a proper fit and then had her carry it out to where the rest of them were suited up and boarding.

  That’s when she realized she was shaking. Badly. The thin barrier of her suit, these little packets of oxygen… they were a joke of a defense against the dangers of open space
and a toxic planet.

  Fifteen of them were being sacrificed. Eight trained members of the flight crew, two techs, four subs, and one enforcer. Maeve clutched her helmet tightly and strode up the ramp after them and into the transport. The interior seemed cramped now, with sixteen seats in the back and one narrow aisle in between.

  The flight tech made her strap in next to Fenton, and the rest of the crew buckled in for their one-way trip. Pale faces, wide eyes, sweat-soaked brows.

  This was a fucking suicide mission, and every damn person on this flight knew it. She could see it on their faces, breathe it in the metallic-tasting oxygenated air. She fought down panic as the co-pilot took her helmet from her and secured it above her seat, reassuring her that she’d be able to put it on before they began their descent.

  The engines started up, and through the front glasstex, she glimpsed the hangar bay doors sliding open, revealing an expanse of dark space beyond. Maeve held her breath as the ship spooled up and drifted out the door. The pilot angled the thrusters, maneuvering it as they coasted out into open space.

  Stars twinkled in the distance, but otherwise it was nothing but blackness. She’d done hull work before, but there wasn’t a lot of time to pay attention to the view. Subs accessed the outside of the ship through one of the many airlocks, clung to the hull, did the work, and got back inside. This was different.

  She could see the whole deka as they coasted alongside it, every porthole, every sector of the London. When they turned a corner, Maeve sucked in a breath.

  Soren appeared before them, so much closer than the last time she’d glimpsed it. Swirling red-orange clouds rotated across the toxic surface, making it seem alive. Alive like no meteor had ever looked.

  It was beautiful.

  What would it be like to stand on solid ground? To hold soil in her hand? Maeve’s eyes burned as she took it in, and she couldn’t pull them away as the transport sped up.

  When they reached their coordinates, one of the flight techs released his straps and floated down the narrow aisle, helping everyone into their helmets.

  The fear mounting within Maeve made it hard to breathe, and she ripped her gaze from Soren, trying to focus on something, anything, else. She watched Bea, the sub who had called her a deev in the galley, fumbling in her suit for a chain. The lack of gravity made it drift upward. It was a bit of scrap metal, symbols etched into it; a cross, a six-pointed star, a crescent—symbols of the old gods. Those gods had died with the Earth, but some colonists still believed.