Starbearer: Shades Space Opera, #3

By Rock Forsberg

You can't hide from the bleeding darkness.

 

There's no front-line. There's nowhere to hide. How do you fight that?

 

Jill Faith has given away her superhuman powers for freedom on a paradise beach.

 

But when thousands of mysterious black spots appear all over the inhabited galaxy, foreboding a dark invasion, Jill realises her mistake. To get back her powers, she has to face her old enemies.

 

Meanwhile, the ancient evil as grown more powerful than ever, and when the dark universe bleeds over, it happens everywhere. There's no front-line. There's nowhere to hide. 

 

With the Dawn Alliance Navy crippled, the fate of humanity rests on people like Jill and her motley crew of allies.

 

Starbearer is the epic conclusion to the exhilarating Shades Space Opera series. If you like glorious heroines, alien encounters, and paranormal powers, then you'll love this action-packed novel.

 

Buy Starbearer to join fight for the universe now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rock Forsberg
• Release date: Apr 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9789526895956

Book preview

PART 1

Be careful.

---

There is no such thing as a guardian angel.

---

— Shinzaburo the Shrouded

CHAPTER ONE

Harsh wind blew the sands on the plains of Fearanor as Evie Yeoh stared into the distance, where a lonely tower stood against the storms.

‘Why did we deploy here if it’s that far?’

‘You’re unable to get any closer without them catching you.’ This was Daler Tait, the man who had built the compound they were planning to infiltrate. ‘That said, it’s been years—Marc might have changed things.’

He talked about Marc Puissance, a powerful man with a grudge against him, but more importantly, the mastermind behind the cyborg clones and the man who had captured Evie’s mentor, Gus.

‘Engaging stealth. Let’s move,’ said Fernando de Los Angeles—or Naido, Daler’s right-hand man—and he started walking. Evie followed.

It was just the three of them. Daler had said that the best way was to sneak in unnoticed, and he needed Evie because of her connection to Gus. Evie just wanted to get Gus out, but Daler’s motives were more sinister: he was carrying plasma bombs on his back.

They walked across the desert plains towards the spiked tower that glimmered under the rays of Reuna. The tower was misleading; the extent of the compound was underground, and, according to Daler, it was massive.

A fly buzzed beside Evie’s ear. She swatted it away, and in a moment, Naido took a swing at it. ‘How do the flies live in this heat?’

Daler stopped. ‘They don’t. Get down!’

Evie dived onto the ground, coughing from the sand dust in her throat. ‘What is it?’

‘They’re on to us. That fly’s theirs. Break it if you can.’

Evie shook off the sand from her cuff and looked around. ‘It’s gone.’

‘Blast it! That’s it for the stealth. We must move fast,’ Naido said, and tapped the side of his helmet. ‘I’ve marked the possible entry point on our HUDs.’

It was by a rock formation about fifty metres from them. Following Daler and Naido, Evie got to her feet and, shaking the sand off, ran towards the waypoint marker.

She caught up with Naido, who ran like his heavy build would indicate, but Daler was going as if he were in a sped-up video. When they had attached his decapitated head to a new body, they had obviously gone with something out of the ordinary. Naido pressed his cowboy hat down and followed on against the wind.

About twenty metres in front of them, still far from the waypoint, Daler suddenly stopped.

From beneath the sand rose multiple cyborgs—at least a dozen—sand trickling down their shiny armour.

‘It’s Marc’s forces!’ Daler shouted. ‘Find cover and shoot!’

But there was no cover to be found. They were in the middle of a sandpit, and as Naido dived down, Evie did the same.

Through the flying sand, she could barely see Daler, who was now retreating towards them, shooting blue plasma bolts at the cyborgs. She flicked her rifle onto maximum energy and aimed at the cyborg closest to Daler. Naido’s fire hit the cyborg before Evie had a chance to pull the trigger, but it only made the cyborg slow a little. Evie fired at it too, and it stopped.

The cyborg turned to Evie and trained its heavy blaster on her.

She looked around, but there was nowhere to hide. She was lying on the sand without cover.

But the cyborg failed to fire. Daler shot a concentration burst at its chest, making it explode and fall backwards onto the sand.

Naido loaded his concentrated shot beside Evie and nodded for her to do the same. She started the process, but then something hit Daler, and he was thrown a dozen metres backwards.

‘Daler!’

A cyborg stomped towards them. Naido shot his concentration blast, but it anticipated the shot and jumped in a massive arc, landing right beside Evie.

It kicked Evie’s gun hard, sending a spike of pain from her fingers up to her elbow, causing her to drop the gun.

She rolled over for cover, sand flying around her. But the cyborg wasn’t after her. Instead, it jumped up and landed on Naido, its heavy metal crushing his neck into the sand.

Evie let out a squeal and grabbed her rifle. She clenched her jaw against the pain—My finger’s broken!—and initiated the energy concentration mode.

The cyborg towered over her. The rifle was too slow to load.

Before Evie was ready to fire, the cyborg kicked her rifle again, this time straight up, so that the heavy piece of metal hit the centre of her face and sent her down onto the sand.

The pain crackled throughout her skull, and her vision went blurry. Wiping her eyes, she got her hands bloody. Then the cyborg’s face appeared.

‘You’ll never get him,’ it growled, as it sat on top of her. She tried to hit it, but to no avail, as it grabbed both of her wrists so hard that she screamed.

When she quieted, panting, the cyborg let go.

She tried to rise, but its large metal hand grabbed her by the throat. She gasped for air. The cyborg stood up, lifting Evie in the air with one hand. She tried to pry it open, but it was holding on too tight. Gasping for air, she saw a dozen or more cyborgs gathered around her.

A red light flashed in the cyborg’s eyes before it squeezed her throat. Evie cried in agony, but no sound came.

Everything faded to black.

She came back to her senses in a grey room. A continuous matrix pattern ran across the floor, the ceiling, and the walls of the turned-off virtual reality space, commonly called a presence room. The simulation was over.

Daler stared at her with an intrusive gaze that, if Evie hadn’t known him, she would have found intimidating. He and Naido shared a shady background, but compared to Naido, Daler’s eyes burned with passion as if he were possessed.

He said, ‘We have done this simulation twenty-one times now. We have failed twenty-one times.’

They had run the approach simulation over and over again with the computer adding in permutations of what it considered potential defences. Many involved overpowered cyborgs, but also traps, missiles, poison, tanks, and even winged creatures with cat-like paws.

‘The system is too tough,’ Naido said.

‘It’s hard by design,’ Daler said. ‘I’d rather train against too difficult an enemy than too easy.’

‘How many times do we have to do this?’ Evie said. ‘I’m exhausted.’

‘As many as we need to. He took everything from me, and I’m not resting before I get back what’s mine.’ Daler’s intense eyes mirrored the sentiment. He had once run an intergalactic empire, lost it in a feud with Marc Puissance, and ended up with his head in a box in Spit City. Now, his head fixed atop a robotic body, he fixed his gaze on Evie. ‘You want to find your mentor?’

Evie nodded. Her training had been cut short when she was kidnapped from Spit City. But then Gus had disappeared too, and Naido’s intelligence revealed he was taken to Runcor by Marc Puissance’s cyborgs.

Naido was looking at something on his handheld terminal. ‘This is something you need to see—I’ll project.’

A floating image appeared before them.

‘…seem to be popping up all over the galaxy with multiple sightings in Spit City, Shin-Chuong, and even in the farthest reaches of Neptena station across the Poorelline Nebula,’ said a slim blue Baar reporter with long black-and-white hair. ‘We go live to Shin-Chuong speedway.’

‘It’s some weird black discs,’ Naido said, grabbing Evie’s attention.

The image on the screen changed to a bustling open area before a massive bridge-like structure that seemed to turn vertical; apparently the guardrails of a racetrack. A stocky reporter with a beard-accentuated square jawline and a fancy suit appeared. ‘This is Brock Roome, Newscast One. Before me is one of the six black spots that emerged overnight in the vicinity of one of the historic speedways in Shin-Chuong, along with hundreds of mysterious spots all over the dawn space.’ The camera followed as he walked around an upright disk that was so devoid of any reflection that it seemed computer-generated.

Evie swallowed. Immediately upon seeing the black spot, she thought of Remola. She had been through a similar—albeit bigger—one on a ship not that long ago. She hoped she was wrong, but if this was in fact Remola, it meant they were undefeated and on the move.

‘The origin of the discs is unknown. While the top scientists of the Dawn Alliance are researching them, there have been multiple extremist groups, including Newersum, Kisha Clan and Dresnean Glory, claiming they are behind this act, but the navy is yet to release an official statement. Newscast One is receiving information about new appearances as we speak, and we will continue—’

‘Close the screen,’ Daler said, and the video feed disappeared. ‘Something weird is going on in the universe again … There always is, and we’re on a mission, so let’s not get side-tracked.’

‘Apparently there are some in Runcor, too,’ Naido said.

‘Unless they’re between us and our target, we don’t care,’ Daler said. ‘You with me?’

Both Evie and Naido nodded. For Evie, the chance that the Remola might have been back was all the more reason to get Gus out. ‘I just hope Gus is all right.’

‘Hope is not a strategy,’ Daler said, ‘and this is no beach holiday. If you’re exhausted it’s a sign that the training works, and the other side of it is rest, not news media. Now, go and get some real sleep.’

‘Not objecting,’ Evie said, stepping towards the door, but stopping short of opening it. ‘Wonder if there’s a smarter way of doing this?’

Both men turned. Daler said, ‘I’m all ears.’

‘We don’t have an army, so why fight like one?’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘The robot flies gave me an idea—they’re surveillance, masquerading as harmless creatures. Why wouldn’t we do the same?’

The men turned to each other and exchanged glances.

Evie smiled, and stepped out.

An hour later, after freshening up and getting back to the suburbs of Luzasand, Evie walked up to the bunker-like building where her parents lived. Her real parents.

She had grown up with a wealthy Jindalar diplomat and a curator of sacred home-world arts, who, in fact, were more like an abusive substance addict and a neurotic, loveless perfectionist. She had ended up running away with a rock band. Then she had bumped into Shosana, her twin sister, on a navy ship, which changed everything she thought she knew about her lineage. Her real parents had been forced to give her away as a baby, and now, against all odds, they were reunited. Though she had only recently met them, there was an instant bond, unlike any she had felt before. Now their home was becoming her home.

The door unlocked as she stepped close, and she pulled it open.

‘Evie, is that you?’ Angelina, her mother, called out. There was a tenseness in her voice Evie hadn’t heard before.

‘Yeah,’ Evie said, as she took off her coat and set it on the hanger.

Angelina hurried to her. It wasn’t only the voice; her face was wrinkled into a deep frown.

‘What’s wrong?’ Evie asked.

‘Who are you?’

‘What?’ Evie said instantly, and only then tried to process what she might have meant. ‘Evie Yeoh is my name, but—’

‘You’re not an artist.’

Indeed. She had invented that as a backstory to ease her mind. A former groupie, running from murder but cleared of all charges, an operative with a private police force, FIST, in Spit City … It had been too much to explain. They still thought Shosana was on holiday on Runcor, but in reality, she could never go back to the navy.

‘I’m sorry. I am a muse, but there’s also a part of my life I can’t talk about. It’s to do with the military.’

‘Are you a fugitive?’

She had been cleared of the murder charges, but after the stunt they’d pulled aboard the Angel she had probably been slapped with a wanted status again. ‘It’s complicated.’

Angelina shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘It’s all right.’

She pushed her away. ‘No, it’s not all right. The police came by just a few hours ago, looking for Shosana, because she defected. You never told me!’

‘It was her call.’ It was true, even if she still didn’t know why Shosana had done it. ‘Is she home?’

‘No, I don’t know where she is, and I can’t reach her!’ Angelina broke down in tears.

Evie stayed quiet.

Jonon, her father, stepped out from behind the corner with a murky face.

‘Both of you should report to the police.’

Evie shook her head.

‘You have twenty-four hours to do it before they cut you off the network. You can’t leave the planet either.’

A familiar feeling made her grin. It wasn’t the first time, being wanted and all, so even though it was serious and could compromise everything she was striving to do, somehow her brain was saying, been there, done that.

‘You find this funny?’

Evie pulled a straight face. ‘No, sir.’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘Shosana? No.’ Evie was telling the truth. Shosana hadn’t been down in the basement when they were training for infiltrating Marc Puissance’s compound. But if she had gone into hiding, she was probably at Daler’s apartment. They had been spending a lot of time together. Obviously, Evie would tell none of this to her parents.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Angelina said. ‘I think you know where she is.’

‘But I don’t,’ Evie said, and shrugged. She walked past Angelina, but Jonon’s outstretched arm stopped her.

‘You need to go to the police,’ he repeated.

‘No way.’

‘All right then,’ Jonon said, ‘but before you settle this, there’s no place for you here.’

‘Really? I thought I was your daughter.’

‘Our daughters are no criminals.’

‘We aren’t criminals.’

‘Then do what’s right,’ Jonon said. ‘Go to the police.’

Evie sighed. ‘All right, I guess you’re right.’

Jonon replied with an accepting nod and Angelina with a subtle upwards motion of the corner of her mouth on her otherwise grave face.

Evie grabbed her coat from the hanger and pulled it on. ‘I am no criminal.’

‘That’s good,’ Jonon said, as Evie stepped out.

She closed the heavy rustic door and stepped down on the yard. Walking the path, she thought, Like hell I’m going to the police, Marc Puissance owns them.

CHAPTER TWO

Henning Dal zipped up a Dawn Alliance Navy uniform in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. It was a weird sensation, wearing the uniform of the organisation that for so long he had despised. He attached the final red collar piece and stepped back.

Father, you never bowed down to the Alliance, and wherever you are, you know this is the right thing to do. I will return Avalon’s glory.

After the Starcrasher debacle, unlike his colleagues in FIST leadership, Henning had made a choice to join the navy. He had reasoned that rebuilding Avalon would be easier from the inside, but things weren’t going his way.

The navy had taken over Avalon, the community he had run in Eura, and his research on his daughter Aino. In Avalon, he had constructed clones of her, and hooked them into a network to boost her ability to a stellar scale. With her sisters, she had been able to move stars.

Now her sisters had been burned in the propulsion blast of a battle cruiser, and she had become almost like a normal girl. She was smart, and a masterful practitioner of small-scale telekinesis, but she wasn’t the golden goose everyone was after.

A reflection in the mirror, she bounced into the room. ‘When are we going?’

‘Soon,’ he said, and turned to face her. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t take you along.’

She frowned. ‘Why? I want to go back home.’

‘You remember when we left?’ He asked, taking her nod as confirmation. ‘It’s not safe for you.’

‘I miss the rhengos.’

Henning sighed. ‘I miss them too.’

‘It’s also other stuff. Like air, grass, trees, and people too. Everything here’s just so … made up.’

‘I know what you mean.’ He dropped and held her shoulders. ‘That is why I must do this. Your grandfather founded Avalon to allow a new breed of humanity to live in balance with nature. It is the antidote to technology taking over everything from our habitats to our relationships—and our bodies.’

Aino looked at him with a serious expression.

‘My father’s life’s work became mine, and I hope someday you will carry the torch. What we do now can make a big difference to how people live in the future. Your school is among the best in the galaxy,’ he said, pointing towards it. ‘What you learn there will be important in Avalon even if it may seem distant now.’

She nodded again.

‘Even so, I want us to return soon.’ He hugged her, and whispered, ‘I will rebuild Avalon, no matter what, and we will go back. We will go back home.’

Ready to go, Henning stepped into the mission briefing room just above the spaceship dock, with a wide window overlooking the bay. The ship he was about to take to Avalon, a GP-3 group transport ship they called Groupie, sat on the docking bay floor with robot technicians buzzing around it, making their final maintenance checks. In the room was Belinda Killock, the head of Project Renascence, Admiral Atamian, to whom she reported, and two young scientists—a plump human woman and a thin Jindalar man—who probably worked for her.

The presence of the admiral was unexpected, and as Henning entered, he saluted.

The admiral nodded. ‘At ease.’

‘Right on time,’ Killock said. ‘Let us synchronise before you go.’

The admiral stepped forth. ‘First of all, let me say you have done great work in FIST integration. The inhabitants of Spit City won’t notice a thing in their daily lives. Now, let us turn our focus back to Project Renascence. We thought we had covered everything under Avalon, but if there are further secrets—’

Henning chuckled. ‘It’ll propel the Starcrasher system to the next level in no time … I’m sorry, I’m just quite excited about this.’

There was no secret down in Avalon. Henning had taken all his research with him, and still hadn’t disclosed it with the navy, nor would he be doing, because he couldn’t trust Belinda Killock. But he needed an excuse to visit and had told a story about a hidden data pack. If all else failed, he could disclose some of his research.

The admiral coughed. ‘As I was saying, Project Renascence remains a priority. Even as the threat of Remola is pushed back, just like we defeated the ODD and the Gornaren before them, we cannot become complacent. The universe never ceases to surprise us—just look at the black disks that have been popping up.’

This was nothing new; the navy was always looking for new technologies to kill more effectively, and it made Henning wonder why the admiral had even joined the mundane briefing.

‘There’s been a change in plans,’ Killock said.

Henning’s pulse quickened, but he retained a calm exterior. ‘A change?’

‘The original home of the project—Avalon and its surroundings—host a number of the affected. In addition to looking for the data pack, I would like to study some of the people more closely.’

Don’t say you’ll tag along…

‘Unfortunately, I am presently unable to leave Dawn Central.’

Henning let out a sigh of relief.

‘So,’ she said, gesturing at the young scientists who had been standing quietly at the side, ‘Junior Research Scientists Sofia Kvantström and Pike Shen from my team will assist you on your trip.’

Henning needed no assistance, but he said nothing.

‘Ms Kvantström will accompany you down—’

The plump woman smiled from behind her heavy-rimmed glasses.

‘While Mr Shen will provide remote lab support.’

The thin young man nodded with a serious expression.

‘Ms Kvantström, Mr Shen.’ Henning nodded to both.

Meeting his eyes, the young woman blushed.

‘You’ll mostly work with Ms Kvantström, who will conduct research on the site,’ Killock said, ‘and provide you with any assistance you’ll need down on Eura.’

Where Belinda Killock was perhaps overly fussy about every detail of her appearance, Kvantström seemed the opposite. In a world of polished appearances, with her wonky glasses and turned-around shirt collar, she appeared human, and her reserved smile seemed sincere.

‘What kind of research are we talking about?’

‘Ethnography,’ Killock said. ‘Interviews, observation, and taking some samples of the gifted ones.’

‘Samples?’

Killock flicked out a small device. ‘Just some saliva on the indicator here.’

‘If you’re looking for genetic information, there are easier ways.’

‘Who said I’m looking for genetic information? Anyway, you won’t notice her doing the work, but if you need assistance, she’ll be there for you.’

Kvantström smiled. Mr Shen stood rigid.

Henning wondered about the real purpose of their joining him. If they needed samples, there were plenty of operatives already on the ground at Avalon who could have administered a simple test, and they had done a lot of tests. She was sure to have a hidden agenda, but she would never tell him; the only way to find it out was to speak with Kvantström once they were on their way.

‘I believe we are done here,’ Admiral Atamian said, on his way out of the room.

Henning and Kvantström grabbed their suitcases, and, together with Belinda Killock they went down to the docking bay floor. The ship’s pilot, Federney, a messy-haired Andron fellow, greeted them on arrival. ‘A short jump to Eura? If it’s just the two of you, you’ve plenty of space on the Groupie.’

‘That’s great, because I don’t travel that often,’ Kvantström said, and bit her lip. ‘And I hate cramped capsules.’

‘No worry about that on the Groupie,’ Federney said, eyeing them with a chuckle.

‘What is it?’ Henning asked.

‘If I hadn’t read the flight plans, I’d say you’re a couple going on a holiday.’

‘This is no holiday, and we’re no couple.’

‘My apologies, sir. Let me get your bags and we’ll get going.’

The Groupie was accelerating away from Dawn Central, ready to pinch in a matter of minutes. Henning sat with Kvantström in the spacious passenger cabin that could have hosted ten people for a VIP gathering. Outside the window beyond the immediate vacuum of space shone needlepoint stars and the faint glow of the Poorelline Nebula.

Henning spoke little. His mind was already in Avalon. Soon he would return to the sacred place he thought he had lost forever. He wanted to rebuild the community but feared what he might find, because ever since he had joined the navy, there had always been a reason preventing him from travelling to Avalon. It seemed as if they had deliberately kept him out. But he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. On leaving, he had left Skyla Almer in charge. He should talk to her first.

He raised his head and regarded Kvantström. She had been mostly quiet, looking at her handheld terminal. It was obvious why she was there. Belinda Killock didn’t trust him and had sent one of her own to keep an eye on him. The best option was to play along, letting her in on selected ‘secrets’ so that she had something to report back, and everyone, including the high-ranking officers, would be content.

‘So,’ he said, to break the silence, ‘Ms Kvantström—’

‘Sir, if you don’t mind, call me Sofia.’

He chuckled. ‘Good. And you call me Henning.’

She nodded with an awkward smile.

‘So, Sofia, what’s your story?’

She glanced up at him and closed the terminal. ‘My story?’

She seemed shy, and Henning tried to smile in a way that would make her feel comfortable. ‘I mean, how did you end up going to Avalon with me?’

‘Yeah, research people don’t often go in the field,’ she said, still smiling shyly. ‘Since graduating from the Dawn Science Academy almost two years ago, I’ve been working with Dr Render on machine-controlled telekinesis. And I’m excited to work with you because you see things differently.’

‘Oh, do I?’

‘Yep. Render’s all about technology, and as far as I know, you’re looking at what’s natural.’

‘Well done. So, you graduated just two years ago …’ Henning took a deep breath. He could’ve been her grandfather. ‘How old do you think I am?’

‘Sixty-five,’ she said, without blinking.

Henning raised a brow. ‘Correct. She told you?’

‘I read your file. But I have to say you don’t look older than forty.’

‘Thanks.’ He pinched some hair between his fingers. ‘See, it’s all grey.’

She shrugged. ‘But you don’t look that old.’

‘If you’ve read my file, you must also know about E?’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Yes, but not as much as I’d like to. You can heal yourself. Is that why you look younger than you are?’

‘Short answer, yes. Long answer, it’s complicated.’

‘But if Project Renascence started about thirty years ago, how can you have E?’

Henning smiled.

‘Because the chemical affected only kids, the ones below the age of five. The oldest are now in their thirties.’

‘If you know this, you should also know that the navy has never been able to replicate the Eura-experiment.’

‘Yes!’ she said, her eyes beaming, only to look down with a frown. ‘The chemicals don’t work, they never worked. The ability to use E must be from another origin.’

‘Smart deduction.’ Henning was genuinely impressed, since Project Renascence was still following the hypothesis that the chemical developed by his father, Jilius Dal, had been the cause of their powers. It was a catalyst, a way to scale the exposure, but it wasn’t the source. E was the power of the Shades coursing through human bodies to this universe.

She perked up, her cheeks glowing. ‘How did you get it? Tell me!’

‘It’s a long story. Besides, the story has holes I’ve never been able to fill.’ This was true—he had been a child then, and had to rely on the scant knowledge his father had passed on.

‘I’ve got time.’

‘Let’s see what we can find on Eura.’

She sat back, looking disappointed but hopeful, wondering how she’d get him to talk. The lights in the cabin darkened, and she gasped.

‘It’s just the pinch,’ he said.

She responded with a hesitant smile as the ship rumbled and the pinch pulled them in.

CHAPTER THREE

The evening light coloured the world in a hazy calm as Jill Faith danced across the veranda, and onto the sun deck. The waves sighed up to the shore as she moved and spun in graceful motions. She finished in a pose towards the sea—her audience—and wiped sweat from her brow.

In just a week, she would perform in her first show as a dancer.

She popped the earbuds out and took a long, deep breath of fresh sea air. After all the vitamineralised air of the spaceships, the sea breeze was raw, but it carried the invigoration she needed. It also washed away the pang of anxiety that the news of black disks had brought about, rightfully so—fighting things like that wasn’t her life anymore.

After the Dawn Alliance Navy had given her and Tredd their freedom back, they had quickly picked a blue planet, Nanira, and rented a beach terrace from a small community on the outskirts of Lemonland, one of the most prominent galactic show business hubs. They had both lost their superhuman abilities, but freedom was dearer. What a relief it had been: gone were the dark corridors of intergalactic conspiracy and the ever-present preparation for war. Now she could take care of herself and focus on expression through dance.

She had hooked up with a dance club cheekily named Famous in the Bedroom, after the show which, a few years back, had made them known across the globe and beyond. The show began with four beds, the dancers rising from under the covers in baggy pyjamas, moving on to challenging acrobatic moves in glittering skin-tight outfits, and ending in an explosion of feather pillows.

In the club, Jill was part of a casual group with newbies like her and some who had come back to dancing after a break, and others who had no particular ambition outside exercise. Jill had empathy for them, but she aimed higher. Of course, she could never be the top of the world—she was already in her late thirties—but she had the drive, and the physique from the regular fitness regime in the navy. She cherished the idea of being a dancer.

Looking off to the horizon, the soft wind cooled her body.

Tredd had fallen asleep on the sunbed, a half-finished drink on the table by his side. He seemed to enjoy doing nothing—at least it seemed so, but Jill couldn’t find it in her to just be. Something had changed.

She nudged at him. ‘Hey, won’t you join me in bed?’

He came to. ‘You’re sweating all over. What time is it?’

‘Got carried away by the music. I’ll take a shower.’

‘All right,’ Tredd said, picking up his drink. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Jill went inside and upstairs. She dropped a ball of bath salts in the tub in the en-suite, opened the hot water tap, and went back to the bedroom where she untied her halter-top and stepped out of her skirt and panties. She took a quick shower while the tub filled.

While the cool water trickled through her hair, she rehearsed the choreography for the upcoming show by running through the sequences in her head. Her role was demanding for someone of little experience, but she was determined to make it happen. Besides, she had all the time in the world to practice, and optimising for a goal wasn’t anything new to her. Dancing was enjoyable—just as she had expected.

She turned off the shower and the tap and dipped into the hot water.

Something made her think about Belinda Killock. The woman had made an approach on her aboard the Angel. It had come from left field, and she had turned her down. But sometimes, when she felt lonely, she wondered, What if…?

No. She shook her head, contemplating what had brought on the silly thought. Perhaps it was the sensual bath salts; perhaps she had been practicing too much. Belinda was a remnant of a different world, a world that for Jill no longer existed. Besides, she wasn’t lonely; she was with her childhood sweetheart, Tredd, and now that her electric powers were disabled, she wasn’t a monster anymore. Tredd was normal, too. They were as normal as anybody.

Just then the door opened, and he peeked in. ‘Hey, baby.’

‘Hey, you,’ she replied, resting her ankles on the side of the tub. ‘Give me a rub, will you?’

‘Just a sec,’ he said, and disappeared, only to appear a moment later in the nude. He walked behind her and lay his hands on her shoulders.

She let herself relax.

He was good with his hands. As he worked her upper back, he said, ‘You’re tense.’

‘It’s the training.’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t train so hard.’

She turned to glare at him. ‘You know what it means to me.’

‘I do, but unless you take time to recover, you’ll risk an injury.’

‘This is recovery.’

‘True.’ He continued massaging her shoulders.

She let out a sigh and sank down into the warm water.

‘Just wondering if this dancing thing will continue for long at the same intensity.’

She adjusted her position. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean,’ he said, stopping for a moment. ‘Raising a family—we’re not getting any younger.’

They’d had this discussion before. He wanted to have children now, but she wasn’t ready yet. Now that she was free from the navy, she didn’t want to get tied down with screaming babies. Perhaps someday, but if she did it now, she’d have to quit dancing—at least for some time.

‘We’re not that old, either. Women give birth well into their sixties, or seventies.’

‘But what’s a better time than this?’ he said, leaning against the side of the tub. ‘We’ve had our adventures and got out alive. Nanira is a perfect place to raise a family.’

‘You know I’d have to quit dancing—and I’m just getting started. Besides, you’ve got your movie thing.’

He chuckled. ‘It’s more of a fun pastime. Doubt it will become anything big.’

The executive producer at Hurma-studio, upon learning about Tredd’s background as a navy captain and a Spit City bounty hunter, had invited him to join the production of Rocket Parables, a long-running action series with a moral undercurrent, as an expert advisor.

‘You’re into movies, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, I guess I am.’

‘Or would you rather teach at a kindergarten?’

He grinned. ‘That would be a scene. Why?’

‘You know, if we had children, you’d quickly find yourself needing something else in your life. I know you’re not a kindergarten teacher. You should have something else, your own thing.’

He nodded slowly and played with the water with his fingers. In Spit City with FIST he always had an intense gaze, as if he was driven, but now he was more relaxed. It was good. It was what they wanted. Just as she had found dancing, he would find his way, whether it was in the movies or somewhere else.

‘We’ll get there, baby—this is Lemonland, a place where dreams come true,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck. ‘Why don’t you take a shower, and join me in practicing how to make babies?’

His face centimetres from hers, the intensity in his gaze was back.

CHAPTER FOUR

Berossus Dengo stood in the midst of the crowd in Gemma Central space station’s shopping district, fiddling with the universal tool he used at work. It could do some fancy tricks, from turning a screw to analyzing material composition, but it had been relegated to a stress toy.

Standing a head taller than the rest, he spotted her approaching from afar. She held two shopping bags under her arms, her cheeks glowing red. When she spotted him, her eyes lit up and her stride quickened. Berossus chucked the tool into his pocket.

Panting, she said, ‘I’m sorry I’m late, had to…’

‘You’re good. We’ve still five minutes until our appointment.’

Berossus and Mianea were scheduled to meet with a wedding planner. His mother had arranged it a long time ago, when he was working with FIST. Getting to know and marry Mianea was the reason he had returned to Gemma Central.

She had a family line going back generations in the Andron home world, and she was the archetype of an attractive young Andron woman: short, with a curvy figure, a round face, and big eyes under shiny black hair, conveying an expression of innocence. She had a master’s in health education and a number of cooking awards for the desserts she had made for competitions. She wrote a poem every day and was hoping to put a collection out in the world. Smart and sweet, she was the perfect fiancée.

They had only a couple of weeks until the big day, but at the moment his mind was elsewhere.

There had been the message from Evie, and the surprise visit from Efia, the mediator Shade. The Dawn Alliance Navy had overrun FIST, the leadership captured, and Evie was