chest. A smirking soldier draws a gunlike syringe away from my skin. Trying to move, I find my hands are restrained above my head. I breathe faster through dry, cracked lips, and there’s a saliva trail running over one side of my cheek. I squint, disoriented, my eyes unfocused; I’m aware enough to realize that there’s a metal post against my back.
I push up onto my feet, which relieves some of the pressure on my arm sockets, but I’d give anything right now to be able to put my arms down. Looking up, I find my hands are shackled and latched to a metal peg on the post. The post goes up for as far as I can see through a hole in the ceiling of the room. I’m terrified. I pull as hard as I can against the restraint, hoping it’ll loosen or break. It does neither.
The soldier who revived me walks away. He crosses out of the circle of light in the center of the room, moving into the shadows toward a door on the far wall. As he leaves the room, I think for a moment that I’m alone, until I hear a male voice say, “Your name is Kricket?” It echoes in the open space.
I squint, trying to locate the voice. It’s in the darkest part of the room. I taste blood on my lip. My voice is hoarse and raspy when I answer, “Yes.”
“Do you know who I am?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “But I’ll be your best friend if you let me go.” He laughs, but I’m not kidding. “How long have I been out?”
“You mean unconscious?”
“How long?” I repeat with growing panic.
He sounds amused as he says, “I was told that you’re psychic. You’re not omnipotent, then?” He moves away from the far wall, closer to the circle of light I’m in. He’s slight in stature in comparison to all the Rafian men I’ve encountered. He’s only a few inches taller than me. To them, he’s probably a curiosity—being short. He stays on the fringes for a moment, walking around me in a circle. I wait to see what he’ll do next.
When he faces me again, I say, “If I were a better psychic, Geteron, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I thought you didn’t know me,” he says in a surprised tone.
“It took me a second to recognize your voice. You’re the one Minister Telek called for after I’d poisoned him. You were the first one in his office.”
“You admit you poisoned him?” he asks with some degree of astonishment.
“Telek murdered Minister Vallen and threatened to use me as a scapegoat. I call what I did self-preservation. Are you in charge in his absence?”
“I’m his second in command. I’m in charge until he recovers.”
I raise my chin. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Apparently, I have you to thank for that.”
“You’re welcome. Now let me down.”
“I don’t think so. I have a few more questions for you.”
“I have one for you too. How long have I been unconscious?” My mouth is dry, as if I hadn’t almost drowned recently.
“Why is it important?”
“There’s going to be an Alameeda attack at sixteen parts on Fitzmartin. It’s an aerial assault. You need to prepare for it.”
“I’ve heard the rumors you started regarding this attack from a few sources.” He checks his watch. If what you told my soldiers is true, then we only need to wait a couple more parts to see if you’re correct.”
“It’s Fitzmartin?” I ask in a panic. I try to pull my hands down, but the chains holding them merely rattle and clang.
“It is a little earlier than midday. We found you less formidable unconscious.”
“There will be an attack soon!” I warn. “You can’t afford to refuse to act on what I’m telling you. It’d mean the destruction of this entire floating fortress—your military headquarters.”
He gives me a skeptical look. “There has never been an attack like the one you describe in the history of this ship.”
“This ship will be history. Please save us.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because you can’t afford not to!”
“Give me something to build my
I push up onto my feet, which relieves some of the pressure on my arm sockets, but I’d give anything right now to be able to put my arms down. Looking up, I find my hands are shackled and latched to a metal peg on the post. The post goes up for as far as I can see through a hole in the ceiling of the room. I’m terrified. I pull as hard as I can against the restraint, hoping it’ll loosen or break. It does neither.
The soldier who revived me walks away. He crosses out of the circle of light in the center of the room, moving into the shadows toward a door on the far wall. As he leaves the room, I think for a moment that I’m alone, until I hear a male voice say, “Your name is Kricket?” It echoes in the open space.
I squint, trying to locate the voice. It’s in the darkest part of the room. I taste blood on my lip. My voice is hoarse and raspy when I answer, “Yes.”
“Do you know who I am?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “But I’ll be your best friend if you let me go.” He laughs, but I’m not kidding. “How long have I been out?”
“You mean unconscious?”
“How long?” I repeat with growing panic.
He sounds amused as he says, “I was told that you’re psychic. You’re not omnipotent, then?” He moves away from the far wall, closer to the circle of light I’m in. He’s slight in stature in comparison to all the Rafian men I’ve encountered. He’s only a few inches taller than me. To them, he’s probably a curiosity—being short. He stays on the fringes for a moment, walking around me in a circle. I wait to see what he’ll do next.
When he faces me again, I say, “If I were a better psychic, Geteron, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I thought you didn’t know me,” he says in a surprised tone.
“It took me a second to recognize your voice. You’re the one Minister Telek called for after I’d poisoned him. You were the first one in his office.”
“You admit you poisoned him?” he asks with some degree of astonishment.
“Telek murdered Minister Vallen and threatened to use me as a scapegoat. I call what I did self-preservation. Are you in charge in his absence?”
“I’m his second in command. I’m in charge until he recovers.”
I raise my chin. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Apparently, I have you to thank for that.”
“You’re welcome. Now let me down.”
“I don’t think so. I have a few more questions for you.”
“I have one for you too. How long have I been unconscious?” My mouth is dry, as if I hadn’t almost drowned recently.
“Why is it important?”
“There’s going to be an Alameeda attack at sixteen parts on Fitzmartin. It’s an aerial assault. You need to prepare for it.”
“I’ve heard the rumors you started regarding this attack from a few sources.” He checks his watch. If what you told my soldiers is true, then we only need to wait a couple more parts to see if you’re correct.”
“It’s Fitzmartin?” I ask in a panic. I try to pull my hands down, but the chains holding them merely rattle and clang.
“It is a little earlier than midday. We found you less formidable unconscious.”
“There will be an attack soon!” I warn. “You can’t afford to refuse to act on what I’m telling you. It’d mean the destruction of this entire floating fortress—your military headquarters.”
He gives me a skeptical look. “There has never been an attack like the one you describe in the history of this ship.”
“This ship will be history. Please save us.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because you can’t afford not to!”
“Give me something to build my
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