Leonidas stepped in front of her to try the knob first. It turned, and he poked his head inside. Despite telling everyone that the air was breathable, he hadn’t removed his helmet yet. Did he expect a fight? That whoever had done this remained somewhere inside the buildings?
Alisa would have welcomed a fight, a way to let out the tense energy coiled in her body.
She followed Leonidas into a foyer with a desk and chair beside the door. The room flowed into a hallway that bisected the ground floor. She eased past Leonidas, who paused to poke into desk drawers, and stuck her head around the corner. Several doors opened to either side in both directions, reinforcing her notion that this was a barracks. Perhaps where young students lived? Or had lived?
Terrified she would find bodies—and praying that she would not—Alisa headed left and started opening doors. Leonidas came behind her, sticking close. His presence reassured her, for more reasons than one.
The first room did not appear to have been lived in—there was no bedding or mattress on the simple bunk. Whoever its occupant had been, he or she was gone. The second room, also devoid of life, held an unmade bed with a boy’s clothes rumpled and left on the floor, along with a smaller version of Abelardus's staff. In the third room, the bed was made, but a bag sat on the blankets, half-packed with a pair of turquoise pants with yellow flowers on them hanging out. The first sign of a girl that Alisa had seen. She did not think Jelena would have willingly worn anything with yellow flowers on it—she had the same tomboy tendencies that Alisa had possessed as a child and shied away from “girly” clothing—but she would come back and check further if nothing else was a match.
The next room was tidy, with the blankets smoothed and tucked under the mattress at the corners, and a desk and nightstand free of clutter. A dresser stood along one wall with the drawers open and empty. Whoever had been packing must have had time to finish, because there weren’t any abandoned bags. Alisa was about to head to the next room, but Leonidas brushed past her in the doorway and strode inside, stopping at something on the floor. A block or a piece of a toy. Alisa left him to examine it, certain that the precisely tidied bed had not belonged to Jelena. It had always taken bribes to get her to clean her room.
She paused after she opened the next door, resting her hand on the jamb for support before she fully registered the contents. She knew right away. This was it.
The bed was unmade, the dresser drawers had been removed and stacked creatively with a sheet over them to make a fort, and a purple Speckles the Cat jacket dangled from one bedpost. Cups and candy wrappers cluttered the nightstand. Alisa would have smiled at this proof that whatever these Starseers might have been doing, they hadn’t been keeping the kids chained to their bunks and denying them any semblance of a childhood, but the realization that she was too late kept her feelings somber. And disappointed.
She tried to encourage herself, to feel positive instead of defeated. Finding an empty room was better than finding one with a body in it.
Still, her legs were numb as she walked inside, picked up the jacket to take with her, and checked the nightstand. Among the clutter lay a colorful embroidery thread bracelet braided with stars running down the middle. It was dusty and faded, but familiar. Alisa reached out to touch it. Her daughter had been wearing this the last time she had been home on leave. A babysitter in the building had taught Jelena to make them when she had been five or six. At one time, there had been dozens of similar bracelets lying around the flat, and Alisa had even worn an ankle version that Jelena had made one winter. She had done so until the aged threads frayed, and it had fallen off.
She picked up the bracelet, her fingers trembling. This one looked as if it had suffered the same fate, the ends too frayed to hold a knot anymore. Perhaps it had been too treasured to throw away. Jelena had never wanted to throw away anything. She’d kept a trunk full of old toys in her room, refusing to give them away even though she was “too grown-up to play with them.”
“He was here,” Leonidas said from the door.
“He?” Alisa asked, puzzled as she turned, the bracelet in her hand, her fingers stroking it. “Did you mean she? Jelena was here.” She held up her find.
“Was she? That’s good.” He had finally taken his helmet off, and his expression grew slightly bemused when he looked at the fort. “We’re close. And there aren’t any bodies, at least not in here.” Relief replaced the bemusement; he must have been thinking along the same lines as she.
He walked into the room and touched her arm before holding out his hand. A gray block meant to interlock with other blocks stood out against the red of his gauntleted palm.
“This was Thorian’s,” he said.
“Thorian? The prince?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure? I’ve seen those before. Zizblocks, right? They’re ubiquitous toys on Perun.”
“But we’re not on Perun,” Leonidas said. “I know for a fact that Thorian had a bag full of them when he was escaping from—after his parents died on that asteroid.”
“How would you know that?” Alisa asked, though she had already determined that Leonidas had knowledge of the prince’s whereabouts. That was why the Alliance wanted him so badly.
“I was there. I helped him escape.” He closed his fingers around the block. “We made a space station together out of these.”
“Did you deliver him to the Starseers?”
“Yes. At his father’s request, we took him to Dustor. I don’t know what happened afterward, if these are some of the Starseers we met there or if Durant also kidnapped Thorian.”
“Who’s we?”
“The pilot who flew our craft and me.” Leonidas’s expression grew even grimmer than usual. “He didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s a reason I would like for you to have combat armor.” Leonidas shook his head and looked at the block again. “Once we arrived on Dustor, I took Thorian to specific coordinates in the middle of the desert and handed him off to a group of Starseers who met us. They were supposed to be relatives of his, people who would train him so that one day he would have the power—and hopefully the wisdom—to lead armies, if necessary, to retake the empire.”
Alisa grimaced, not wanting to imagine the system with another version of the empire in control. She kept the thought to herself. From the way Leonidas was fixated on that block, the boy meant something to him, more than simply some last mission he had undertaken. Maybe they had bonded over that space station. Alisa had no trouble understanding caring about children and wanting to protect them. Even if the idea of some heir of Emperor Markus returning to lead armies chilled her, she couldn’t feel any negative feelings toward a ten-year-old boy she had never met.
“Do you think they escaped?” she asked, picturing the dead people outside. Had they been buying time so the rest of the outpost could get away from their assailants? “Or do you think they were captured?”
“All of the rooms I checked are empty, but it looks like the occupants had some warning and were told to pack quickly. They may have had time to flee, especially if those out front were delaying their enemies, but it’s also possible that they were overrun before they could get out. I don’t know where they would have gone to escape, unless there’s a back door out of here. I haven’t noticed cameras in the barracks or out in the courtyard, so we may not be able to find out unless Abelardus finds someone still here who we can question.”
Alisa suspected Abelardus would have known if someone was alive here and would have already said something.
“Enemies. Who would be foolish enough to make enemies of Starseers? Besides cyborgs?” She tried a smile, but it wasn’t heartfelt. She was worried all over again for Jelena’s safety.
“At one time, we were all enemies of the Starseers,” Leonidas said. “Back when they were trying to take over the system.”
“Centuries ago. I’m talking about modern times. Today.”
“I don’t kno
w. Cyborgs couldn’t have killed those people without leaving a mark. Other Starseers could have, as Abelardus already pointed out.”
“Actually, he was pointing out the reasons why that couldn’t have happened.”
“I believe he was trying to convince himself. But the Starseers themselves admitted there were different factions among them, people with different agendas.”
Alisa gazed down at the bracelet in her hand. “I don’t want Jelena in the middle of Starseer politics. This isn’t our realm. We never asked to be a part of this, of any of this.” Her throat tightened, fear and frustration and worry all combining to make her want to cry again. She blinked back the tears. There was a mystery to solve. This wasn’t the time to collapse. If Jelena had been here three days ago, she might still be nearby.
But she could have also been taken from Cleon Moon by now. And how would Alisa track her if that was the case?
Some of her bleak thoughts must have shown on her face, or maybe Leonidas was thinking bleak thoughts of his own concerning Thorian, because he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, feeling the need for outside strength. She wished he were in clothing instead of that unyielding armor, but she was still glad he was here with her, that she had someone who understood. She slid her hand up behind his head to thread her fingers through his hair—at least that part of him wasn’t covered in armor. She stroked the side of his head with her thumb, thinking of hugging him or kissing him, or both.
He stepped back, lowering his arm. “Forgive me,” he murmured, “but I think it would be better if we didn’t… didn’t.”
“What?” She frowned at him, feeling rejected. All she had been doing was appreciating his presence and taking comfort from it. It wasn’t as if she had been thinking of shoving him up against the wall and kissing him senseless.
“Last night…” His gaze shifted to an empty spot on the wall. “I thought perhaps we could find a way, that there might be hope that I could live a normal life one day, fall in love, have a family.” He met her eyes, his own squinting in a pained expression. “But Abelardus is right. I’m dangerous even when I don’t intend to be. It’s not fair to ask that you—”
“Abelardus?” Alisa closed a fist around the bracelet. “Who in the hells asked Abelardus what he thinks about us?”
“Nobody, but it’s hard to ignore him when he’s talking into your head.”
“Well, tell him you’ll shove his head up his ass if he doesn’t stay out of yours. Or just ignore him. It’s simple.”
“It’s hard to ignore someone who’s right.”
“He’s not right.” Alisa stepped toward him, lifting a hand toward his face, wanting to touch him. “Look, I made a mistake, all right? Not you. It’s not like I haven’t heard you in there at night, thumping on the walls. I should have left when you dozed off. I knew I should have. But I didn’t because I wanted—” She paused. If she told him what she wanted, and he knew it couldn’t be, that would only make him feel worse. “It was my choice. And I won’t do it again, not until we can find a solution.”
“What solution? I’ve been having nightmares for twenty years. Even if I find Admiral Tiang and convince him to fix my other impediments, what kind of fix can there be for that?”
“You won’t know until you ask. Have you ever asked? A neuroscientist or whoever specializes in brain chemistry? Hells, Yumi might even know something about that topic. Have you asked her?” Alisa knew he hadn’t, because he didn’t like to admit his weaknesses to anyone. He didn’t even like admitting them to her, even if she had figured them out on her own.
“I’ve seen too much, done too much.” Leonidas looked down at the block he still held. “This is the punishment for all those I’ve killed. It seems fitting. If there was no price to be paid for killing, it would be easier, wouldn’t it? It’s not supposed to be easy.”
“Leonidas, nightmares aren’t the gods’ way of punishing you. They’re just…” Alisa groped for an argument, but she was no expert. She had no idea if someone tinkering with his brain could fix his problem or not. “Look, even if there’s not a solution, that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. More than friends. So what if we sleep in separate cabins? Lots of married people don’t share the same bedroom. I mean, what if you snore? I wouldn’t want to sleep with you then anyway. I don’t care how nice your muscles are to snuggle with.” She smiled, wanting to make him laugh, wanting him to stop taking this so seriously. She knew he felt guilty over the wrist, but that truly had been her fault.
“So I’ll be the troll that must stay locked inside of his room, so he can’t hurt anyone.” His mouth twisted and he backed toward the door. “If you need me for anything, I’ll always help, but I was mistaken to think that this—us—could work. I’m sorry. You deserve someone who you can share a bed with in all senses of the term, and where you don’t need to worry about being hurt if you accidentally fall asleep in his arms.”
“Leonidas—”
“It could have been worse, Alisa,” he said, looking toward her wrist, his eyes even more haunted than usual. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “I have enough reasons for nightmares without adding another one.”
He walked out without giving her a chance to respond.
Chapter 10
Alisa wanted to jab daggers into Abelardus's eyes when she found him in a building that looked to have been a mix between a schoolroom and a gymnasium, with desks around the perimeter and mats in the middle. Seeing two more bodies on those mats diffused some of her anger, reminding her that the people here had suffered far more than she, but she childishly wanted to clobber him for whatever he had whispered into Leonidas’s mind.
Abelardus was sitting at the instructor’s desk and concentrating on a holodisplay hovering over a netdisc. He only glanced up briefly when she entered the room.
“Find a clue?” Alisa asked, eyeing the bodies as she walked toward him. They belonged to another woman and a young man, both in black Starseer robes.
“I found Durant’s room and his netdisc. I guessed his password, and I’m looking around at his files.”
“Was he… in his room?” Alisa assumed that all of the living people were gone, but it was possible Abelardus's brother had been among those who had died defending the outpost.
“I didn’t see his body, no. It looked like he left in a hurry.” He waved to the netdisc, something most people would have packed if they hadn’t been rushed. “All of the staff rooms were like that.”
“So were the children’s rooms.”
He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time. “You found where your daughter was?” He looked toward her pocket, the one where she had tucked the bracelet.
“Why do you ask questions if you’re just going to dig into my thoughts and find the answers for yourself?”
“That’s not always my intent. But I have trouble with patience. I’m glad I could at least lead you to the place where she was being held.” He shifted his attention to the holodisplay. “I hope I can find out where they went as well. But there’s something disturbing here.”
“Your brother’s porn collection?” Alisa asked, then immediately felt bad for making jokes as she glanced again at the fallen. She was irritated with Abelardus and irritated with his brother too. Leonidas shouldn’t be distancing himself from her, and Jelena shouldn’t be in trouble.
“No, that’s not disturbing. He has fairly pedestrian tastes.”
“Glad to hear it,” she muttered.
“I’m looking at his inbox, and my messages never reached him. He doesn’t have any messages at all from off-world, not for the last three months.”
“Could he have deleted them?”
“It doesn’t look like he deletes anything—there are dozens of junk messages inviting him to bet on the dinosaur hunts and the bike races in Terra Jhero.”
“Maybe he’s more interested in doing that than in talking to you.”
Abelardus chewed on his lip instead of rising
to the bait. “I’m not a computer expert by any means, but I wonder if it’s possible that someone was interfering with this outpost’s ability to receive messages from the other Starseer outposts and temples. Or maybe keeping them from receiving messages from anywhere outside of Cleon Moon.”
“Wouldn’t someone have to know this outpost was here to interfere with it?”
“Clearly someone did.” Abelardus waved his hand toward the bodies and scowled. “I wish I could see the netdiscs of some of the others, but I haven’t seen any more lying around. Even if they were here, I wouldn’t likely be able to guess the passwords. Not everyone uses the name of their first pet snake for their entire grownup life.”
“Is Durant younger than you?” Alisa asked, getting that feeling, though she had previously assumed he might be older. It seemed like someone involved with nefarious plots should be out of his twenties.
“Yes. In addition to the lack of personal netdiscs, there aren’t any other computers here I can check. I already looked. They kept it simple down here. There’s an environmental control station that filters the air and provides some lighting in the buildings, but that’s it. Even though this is technically a listening outpost for Cleon Moon, and reports back to our main temples, the true point of this place is to practice one’s skills without interruptions.”
Alisa’s comm beeped, and she jumped. The fortress was so quiet and isolated that she had forgotten about the outside world.
“Captain Marchenko,” she answered, assuming it would be Beck.
“Someone’s trying to get into the ship,” Alejandro blurted.
“Is the Starseer back?” Alisa found that notion far more alarming than she had when Beck had originally mentioned a robed visitor. What if whoever had come knocking was one of the people who had attacked the outpost?