Horizon Down (Galaxy Mavericks Book 9) Page 3

Florian laughed. “I want your muscle.”

  “Think again.”

  “You should think again.”

  Smoke wanted to bash the guy’s head in. Something about him screamed lies.

  “I'm impressed that you haven't tried to kill any of my crew yet,” Florian said. “I'll accept that as my thanks.”

  Smoke pushed the tray aside. He stood, but his legs were weak and he was dizzy.

  Then he noticed the electric shock collars on his ankles. They were bright yellow and constricted his skin.

  He hesitated.

  “Safety measures,” Florian said. “I'm happy to take them off.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, I am serious,” Florian said, dangling a small remote.

  The ship blazed out of hyperspace.

  Outside, a blue, watery planet appeared in the distance. The ship cruised toward it rapidly.

  “You're going to help me,” Florian said. “I need protection.”

  “I don't work for anyone.”

  “Ah,” Florian said. “Did you forget that you worked for the empire?”

  “I'm done following orders from anyone.”

  “A reformed man!” Florian said, clapping. “But I think I have something that will change your mind.”

  Florian pushed a button on the remote.

  The yellow shock collars separated and fell to the ground.

  Smoke balled his fists and ran toward Florian.

  “Hold it right there,” Florian said, wagging his finger. He pulled a small, plastic binder from his suit jacket. “Don't you want to learn what they did to you? About your lobotomy?”

  Smoke stopped.

  Florian laughed again. “That's what I thought.”

  Smoke punched Florian in the chest, sending him backward. Smoke snatched the binder and opened it.

  The pages were blank.

  Florian produced another binder from his jacket. The binder had a giant knuckle imprint.

  “You're losing your edge,” Florian said. “I'm many steps ahead of you.”

  Something prodded Smoke on his back.

  His muscles seized up and he crumpled, falling to the floor in a ball.

  He screamed.

  He couldn't move.

  A curvy woman with fire red glasses stood behind him with a stun gun. Blue sparks flew from the gun.

  Tatiana smirked.

  Smoke cringed. He wanted to reach up but his wrist curled back in pain.

  “Don't even think about it,” Tatiana said.

  Florian clucked his tongue.

  “So…Smoke, talk to me about Josie.”

  Smoke stopped writhing.

  That name.

  Where had he heard that name?

  Josie.

  Josie.

  Josie!

  Jos.

  A face appeared in his mind’s eye. A woman’s face. It was a pockmarked, swirly blur.

  His head hurt, like he had been hit with a sledgehammer.

  He fell back, hit his head on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

  A sheet of paper fluttered down and landed on his chest.

  Slowly, the electrical pain disappeared, and he panted.

  He grabbed the sheet, crinkling it. His fingers were so weak he could barely hold on.

  But he held the paper to his face.

  It was some kind of medical record. A log, with long, colorful lines of text spilled across the page. Much of it was blacked out.

  “There's more where that came from,” Florian said. “If you want to stick around, that is.”

  Two men grabbed Smoke. He clutched the paper, and let the men carry him.

  Chained to a steel pipe in the airlock, Smoke read the paper.

  Product Name: “Smoke”

  Real Name: [Purged]

  Height: 6’5”

  Weight: 254 lbs

  Bone density: 2.5 as opposed to the norm of 1.0, infused with organic metal alloy. Spine has been lengthened and the cranium has been reinforced.

  Blood type: O positive, changed via enzyme. Formerly A.

  Cybernetic implants: one in each temple, one drilled into the occipital bone below each eye. For access, use copper conduit cables.

  Narrative: Product is a human who was discovered in the rubble of [purged] in the aftermath of the [purged]. Deadly traces of [purged] found in bloodstream. Determined to be the perfect candidate for Solar Storm Project. Product was hydrated, nourished, and brought up to baseline vitals on [purged] before tests began.

  And then the narrative stopped.

  The back of the page was empty.

  There was nothing more.

  His head ached as he read the paper again. He couldn't process it. He wanted to feel something other than anger, but anger was the only response.

  He was a super soldier.

  Had he wanted to be a soldier?

  Just as his mind wandered to the answer, his head hurt again. Only when he thought of something else—silence and nothingness, did the pain go away.

  He rolled the paper up and sulked in the shadows, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

  5

  Devika walked into a hospital room. The sunlight outside was fading from yellow to black, casting a golden light on the small room.

  Rex Olbertson was hooked up to an IV. His lips were cracked and his skin was rough, like leather left out in the sun.

  He was sleeping.

  Devika closed the curtains, making the room dark.

  The noise woke Rex.

  “Who…are you?” he asked groggily.

  Devika straddled a chair and sat down.

  “I'm glad you're doing better. The doctors were worried about you.”

  “You police?” Rex asked.

  “GALPOL,” Devika said.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “We’re just trying to gather facts,” she said.

  The doctors had let her in because she flashed her badge. But this wasn't her investigation. It wasn't even in her unit’s jurisdiction. But she had to know.

  “How did you get off Defestus?” she asked.

  Rex laughed weakly. “I didn't even know I was off that hellhole.”

  “But you escaped.”

  “I still don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

  She wasn't getting through. She had to try another way.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “A hospital.”

  “You're on the planet Gargantua. You are not on Defestus.”

  “Prove it.”

  Devika went to the curtains and pulled them open. Rex shielded his eyes from the light and squinted.

  “You're looking at the honeyed skies of Gargantua,” she said. She grabbed a remote control off the foot of the bed and turned on the television. The Gargantua News appeared.

  “You can't get those channels on Defestus,” she said, “You can't get any channels on Defestus, for that matter.”

  “The doctors told me that,” Rex said. “But they didn't turn on the television. I'll be damned…”

  He coughed.

  “Here I was, thinking it was some kind of game. Some kind of experiment the wardens were doing. Like they always do, treatin’ us like dogs. If people knew how they treated us…”

  His voice broke.

  “If people knew, it would stop. All of the goddamn violence would stop.”

  Devika sat down again.

  “I'm free,” Rex said. “God almighty, I'm free.”

  So he thought.

  She didn't have much time. Grayson and Eddie were likely stranded in space somewhere, and Florian was likely scheming on his next move. She didn't even have time to commiserate.

  “Good news and bad news,” Devika said. “The good news is that yes, you are off Defestus. The even better news is that, well…Defestus is gone. Really gone.”

  “Did they finally shut the place down?” Rex asked. “Thank god.”

  “It was eaten by aliens, Rex.�
��

  Rex looked at her. He swallowed. Then he laughed.

  “This is some kind of joke. Get out of here. I'm sick of listening to you.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not kidding, Rex,” Devika said. “The bad news is that yes, you’re free, but you’re soon going to be taken into police custody. When my counterparts arrive, they’re going to send you to a penitentiary.”

  “Fine,” Rex said.

  Devika paused. She sighed.

  “But here’s the thing. I believe you are innocent. I don’t think you escaped from Defestus or broke any laws. I don’t think they will believe you, though.”

  “Screw ‘em.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Devika said, “but Rex, I need some help.”

  Rex laughed again.

  “There’s a race of aliens that is eating planets in our galaxy,” Devika said. “So far, they’ve eaten three. I’m investigating, but I’m at a bit of an impasse. I was hoping you could help.”

  “You’re telling me they ate other planets, too?”

  Devika nodded. “So far, Refugio and Kepler have also been destroyed.”

  “Refugio,” Rex said under his breath. “My friend lives there. He owns a restaurant there.”

  “He may be alive,” Devika said. “Many were able to survive. If you cooperate with us, maybe we can work something out where he can visit you. But we’re running out of time, Rex.”

  Rex smiled, and then winced as he sat up against his pillow. He struggled to get comfortable. Devika helped him adjust his pillow.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  “Do you recall anything before waking up here on Gargantua?”

  “It was nighttime,” Rex said. “Dark. Like usual. Me and my gang were sittin’ around. A storm rolled in, but it was a weird lookin’ storm. Unlike anything I ever saw. Black clouds and all. Thought it was a sandstorm, but there were…red eyes in it. By the time everyone knew what was going on, it was too late.”

  “Do you remember anything after that?”

  Rex stared at the wall, trying to remember.

  “I remember being covered in darkness,” he said. “I remember everything going black. And then it was loud. Real loud. Loudest thing I ever heard in my life. Like a bunch of distorted lions roaring. And then it got hot. Real hot. I was so scared that I…I…blacked out.”

  “It’s okay,” Devika said. “That’s when you woke up here, right?”

  Rex nodded.

  “Thank you, Rex,” Devika said. She stood and walked to the door. “You’ve been a big help. I will leave a note for the other investigators.”

  “I thought you were the investigator,” Rex said.

  “I am,” she said quickly. “but there will be more. You will have to tell the story again, Rex.”

  Rex suddenly looked embarrassed, like he confessed his story to the wrong person.

  Devika waved.

  “Good luck to you.”

  She left before he could say anything else.

  The hospital hallway was bright, with shiny floors. A long, rectangular stained glass window faced Rex’s room. It showed a scene of Jesus with his arms outstretched, and a honey-colored spiral galaxy in the palm of his hands.

  She found herself looking at the painting, thinking about the fate of the galaxy. Where would the Planet Eaters strike next? Where was Florian?

  She’d never believed in a God. With all that was going on, maybe the galaxy wasn’t in good hands after all. Maybe it was up to her.

  She closed her eyes, tried to center herself. Then she started walking.

  Michiko and Keltie were sitting on a red couch in the waiting room down the hall.

  “Any luck?” Keltie asked.

  “He's definitely from Defestus,” Devika said.

  “That's scientifically impossible,” Keltie said. “I did the math. Defestus is at least seven hours from here.”

  “I don't care about science,” Devika said. “All we know is that Clark’s rampage and the disappearance of Defestus happened at approximately the same time. They're connected.”

  Michiko was staring into space.

  “You okay?” Devika asked.

  “When I was swallowed by the Planet Eaters,” Michiko said. “I saw Kepler. And Refugio. The aliens were eating them. But the weird thing is that the two bodies were right next to each other.”

  Devika folded her arms. Didn't make sense.

  “Maybe now, Defestus is with Kepler and Refugio,” Keltie said.

  “If it is,” Devika said, “then how did Rex get here?”

  “When Florian threw me out of the Planet Eater’s realm, he put me into some kind of wormhole,” Michiko said. “Maybe that guy ended up in one of them as well?”

  “Hard to guess,” Devika said “but we've got to get going. Grayson and Eddie are waiting on us.”

  She glanced back at the door to Rex’s room.

  “With any luck,” she said, “maybe the other GALPOL investigators will be able to find out more.”

  6

  Ren closed her eyes as a tattoo artist inked her eye wells with black ink.

  The ink smelled strong of chemicals, and the needle pricked her.

  She winced.

  “It's only once that you receive your tattoos,” the tattoo artist said. She was a woman in a black cloak with magnifying glasses over her eyes.

  “Just making sure the masterfulness of the art gets soaked into your skin.”

  Ren kept her eyes closed.

  She was still groggy.

  She'd only woken up an hour ago, in a sumptuous dressing room, among a swirl of faces.

  She was pulled in every direction. Every word spoken to her was a blur, and she couldn't make sense of it all.

  Should she have wished for her hive parents?

  No.

  That would have brought shame upon them. They would not have come to her aid.

  They would not have helped her.

  The needle pricked her once more, and she yelled.

  “Stop moving,” the artist said firmly. “I'm painting the most glorious part—the hive of our great planet, under your left eye.”

  She turned away. She wanted to cry. But they had given her an injection that stopped her eyes from producing tears. A temporary measure to let the tattoo artist do her work.

  She longed for her boyfriend.

  She longed to be back at school, taking stupid astrophysics and calculus.

  She didn't belong here. She didn't belong here!

  With a final prick, and brush under Ren’s eyes with a towel, the artist blew on her eyelids.

  “It is done.”

  Ren opened her eyes. Then one beneath her eye hurt, like she'd been punched. She resisted the urge to touch it, for it was tender.

  The artist wheeled back from the table.

  The room was dark and candle-lit. It smelled of ink and wax, sweat and warm fire. It was no bigger than a closet.

  The artist bowed, putting her hood over her head.

  “Forgive me for the pain,” the artist said. “It has been my great honor to adorn you with the stars and planets of the empire. The one and final honor of my life.”

  Ren sat up.

  Her head was still spinning. She couldn't concentrate.

  Slowly, a mirror rose in front of her face.

  The artist was holding it.

  And then she saw herself in the flickering candlelight. Herself, but not herself. Her smooth, pale face with perfect complexion had been replaced with a paler face of skin and black tattoo—fine swirls that covered her cheeks. Lightning strikes and dots lined her eye wells.

  If she had tears, they would have fallen across her cheeks. But the tears did not come. Only pain. Dull pain that started from her eyelids and spread across her whole face.

  “What did you do to me?” Ren cried. “Oh my God!”

  The artist grabbed her.

  “Like you not my art, Your Majesty?” the artist asked.

  With nea
rly superhuman strength, Ren pushed the artist against the wall.

  The artist groaned as she struck a table full candles and crashed to the ground.

  Smoke rose from her cloak.

  The artist look back and screamed.

  The cloak was burning.

  “Help me!” the artist cried.

  But Ren backed away, toward the door.

  The artist tried to pull off her cloak, but the flames engulfed her.

  Ren ran as flames bloomed across the artist’s entire body.

  She entered a dark, dimly lit hallway with walls made of golden brick. Orange lights pulsated within the brick.

  She ran as fast as she could.

  Her heart pounded.

  Her footsteps resounded on the hardwood floors.

  The artist’s screams pierced her and made her want to scream.

  She rounded a corner and bumped into someone.

  Her head struck armor.

  A soldier.

  A group of them.

  With guns. And visors. The green neon lines in their armor gave the orange hallway a sickly glow.

  She tried to turn but a hand seized her wrist.

  “Just in time,” Dyne said. Despite the situation, his face was calm. His grip was unescapable.

  “Let me go!” she cried. “I want to go home!”

  “You can't go home,” Dyne said. “Your hive parents will not accept you.”

  “No,” she mouthed, “No, you're lying!”

  “It's time to go to your new home,” Dyne said, pulling her down the hallway. “To the palace.”

  “I told you, I didn't want this!” she shouted. “I didn't want it! Let me go. Please, God, let me—”

  WHACK!

  Dyne struck her across the face and she crashed to the dirt floor.

  She felt blood.

  Her cheek was bleeding.

  “Be silent,” Dyne said. “It's easier that way.”

  She whimpered as two guards pulled her up and dragged her down the hallway. She hung her head.

  Dyne spoke to her quietly.

  “Once your coronation is over, things will get less hectic.”

  7

  “Yo, Beau, you’re not going to believe this. Are you sitting down?” Grayson asked.

  From the bridge of the small civilian ship, Grayson borrowed Raul’s radio. He was hunched over the passenger seat with the headset to his ear.