Subterranean: In Dying Starlight Book 11, page 1
Copyright 2023 Emily McCosh
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cover design, illustrations, and formatting by Emily McCosh
Published by Oceans In The Sky Press
OceansInTheSky.com
Chapters
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
One
Anya balls up her tiny fist and eyes the punching bag, squinting as if it personally offended her, and lands a rather off-balance punch. I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Lock your thumb over the outside of your knuckles.”
She looks at her fist and stares at me as if I’ve spoken another language. From the little hanging cot over the console, Bat snickers.
“Shush,” she tells him, unbothered.
Taking her hand, I adjust her fist and tap her knuckle. “Aim to hit with this part, straighten your wrist.”
“What in the world are you doing?”
I glance over my shoulder and my face burns. Yvonne is standing in the doorway of my bunk room, fresh out of the shower, curly hair casting water to the floor, wearing nothing more than a towel. This is the second time she’s done this to me. Maybe her kissing me should’ve fixed my embarrassment, but somehow it’s worse now. I’m not just an inhuman cyborg to her anymore—perhaps I never was, but I didn’t know—and she’s still here flashing her thighs at me. Zane and Lalia better not be giggling about it in the other room.
“She, uh. . .wanted to know how to punch,” I say. “It’s good physical therapy.”
Anya punches the bag with slightly more success and grins. I have it set on the floor, against the wall, but it’s a hard bag—maybe I should hang it up so it has some give.
Yvonne raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t look annoyed. Instead, there’s that irritating oh you’re so cute when you bond with my sister expression. It’s difficult to be self-conscious when she does that, and being self-conscious is my specialty. I don’t appreciate her messing with it. She grins and chews on her lip.
Heavens help me. “Hey, she found the punching bag under my bed and irritated me within an inch of my life about it. Take it up with her.”
“I’m ten, I’m not responsible for my actions,” Anya says primly.
I level a glare at her she doesn’t appear to notice. Zane’s laugh echoes from my bunk room. Against his weak arguments, I insisted he still takes the single proper bed in the tiny ship. He’s healing quite nicely if I do say so myself, and the nasty burns are fading into barely noticeable scars. They’re still there, but I consider it a small win that he’s no less of a flirt.
Lalia is giving herself a haircut in the bathroom. We’re perhaps a day out from Zar, and I’m trying my very best not to panic about it. If I consider anything else, I can keep myself distracted. I’ve been very confident up to this point, there’s no reason to crawl into a fetal position about it now.
“Don’t damage those new hands,” Yvonne says, and disappears back into the bathroom, taking her bare legs with her.
“Please, I have a better chance of breaking my hands than she does,” I say, then frown at Anya’s form. “But still, stand better. You’re killing me.”
I nudge her bare feet into a better stance and her elbows up until her fists are blocking her face.
“How long until we get there?” she asks. “I wanna see Zar, I’ve read about it.”
“Tomorrow, probably. And you better stay with us and not talk to anyone.”
She puffs out her bottom lip.
“It’s a dangerous place. I’m only taking you out with me because I feel better having you along than leaving you in the ship. Because I know your sister and leaving her unsupervised scares me—”
“Hah!” comes Yvonne’s scoff from the other room.
“—But I’m not even sure taking you along is a great idea.”
“Are we gonna stand out?”
“I will, you shouldn’t. As long as you keep those glasses on you bought on Hytha.”
“Are you gonna get in a fight again?”
I glance at her. I’ve been to Zar before. It wasn’t a terrible experience. . .most of the time. “I can almost guarantee it.”
Anya grins.
“But there usually aren’t many cyborgs there and basically no authorities—punching humans isn’t hard.”
She giggles.
“You know, you’re human, you shouldn’t laugh,” I say, and poke her in the nose.
“Yeah, but I’m wonderful.”
Yvonne appears wearing actual clothes this time. Her hair is wild, sticking in every direction. I pretend not to stare at her too much as she wanders to the kitchen and goes through my cabinets. If I don’t think too hard about how after Zar, we’ll be trying to find a way to get them home, it doesn’t bother me so much. Still, I’m catching myself staring at her as much as I find her staring at me. I don’t know if she notices, but I’m embarrassing myself anyway.
“So,” Yvonne says, turning on her heel and smirking. “Teaching my baby sister to shoot guns and punch properly. Picking locks next?”
“Nah, I figured you’re solid on teaching her the criminal activity.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“No? So when we get to Neyla Ve, I’m fine telling your parents everything you’ve been up to in the past few months?”
Her eyebrow quirks, but she’s doing a good enough job of keeping a straight face. “If, and that’s a major if, you have the guts to start telling my parents things about me, have at it. I’m gonna start repeating things about you.”
Anya giggles.
I snort. “That doesn’t matter much. They’re going to hate my guts the moment they meet me, you’re hardly gonna make it worse based on anything you’ve seen me do.”
“They will not hate your guts.” She settles on a bag of cookies we picked up when last we stopped for fuel.
I give her a look, but she seems to know better than to push it.
Anya, however, does not. “Mama and Baba like cyborgs.”
Cute kid. So innocent. “Do I look like other cyborgs you know, little princess?”
She side-eyes me, so at least the snarky tone stuck. She mutters, “They better like you.”
Yvonne and I exchange glances. It isn’t much use arguing. We both know I won’t be sticking around for long once we get the two royals home. As long as Captain lives and breathes, I’ll be treating Neyla Ve like I treat Amerov.
In and out. We’ll drop them off and leave. Head for uncharted space at top speed.
I try not to think about how my chest hurts.
•
Zar is one hell of a city. Floating free of any star and made of no organic planet, the drifting amalgamation of thousands of buildings, scaffoldings, and ship ports is large enough to be its own little moon. It’s a massive endeavor—and I still don’t understand how it exists—and is currently caught in the gravitational pull of another blue star, small and collapsing in on itself, safe for a few more lifetimes.
If the company that runs the port ever decides to leave, there are thrusters built into the core strong enough to get it out of this star’s pull. I don’t know if such claims are true; it seems ridiculous, and it’s never happened in my lifetime or in any of the texts I’ve read about it. But it’s a cool concept to consider.
“We should buy a new pod here,” Bat says, bouncing on the console and then moving to the port window along the side as we descend toward the cracked shape of the floating city. “And lots of food.”
Zar is a great place to burn through credits. Just as it’s good for finding someone to test my DNA who won’t care what I’m up to and won’t be reporting any of us to Amerov, it’s good for getting ships that won’t be tracked. Technically, no shipyard is supposed to put tracking on their vessels, but plenty do.
It’s the reason Yvonne decided to leave Amethyst with us instead of buying a ship there. Captain would’ve known in an instant. She could buy one here, no problem. So could we.
And, of course, there are fantastic eateries.
“Let’s see how this goes first. If there’s no drama, it won’t hurt to check it out.”
“There are shipyards here?” Zane asks, wandering out from the bunk r
I squint at him. He’s healed enough to be wandering around. Probably. Even if he isn’t, I don’t think I’d win that argument—he’d just follow us.
“Plenty. Maybe you can get Miss Moneybags back there to buy you one.”
Zane snorts but glances at the princess. She doesn’t appear to be listening. One way or another, we’ll need to find the siblings a new craft. Even if they end up being related to me and I’m stuck with them, I don’t want them constantly in my little ship. This thing is meant for two people, three at the most. We still haven’t even solved the bed problem.
Even if I admit to myself I enjoy their company—which I don’t have to, at least not out loud—they really need their own space.
After we get the bounty on Yvonne, I won’t have a problem getting them a new ship. A few months ago, the idea of sharing my hard-earned bounty with any human would’ve made me queasy. Now, it’s barely a passing thought. In fact, the idea makes me want to grin. It would surprise the hell out of both of them.
Zane is bouncing his leg, eyes on the approaching shimmer of lights and metal. They’ve been extra quiet since we left Hytha. Extra nervous. For the first time, we’re heading right in the direction of concrete proof. Maybe my cynical attitude and snippy remarks have finally gotten to them and they’re considering what we’re going to do if there’s nothing tying us together. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m certain they have, despite all their cheerful proclamations otherwise, but I haven’t decided what will happen after this. It’s a strange blocking point, and I can’t see past it and don’t know what will transpire the moment we have our answers.
Weirdly enough, I’m not as nervous as I expected. It’s been a few months, and I can’t imagine myself as anyone but their brother, even if they dragged me into it kicking and screaming.
Still not going to admit anything of the sort to any of them.
Two
I haven’t been to Zar in years. The files and maps I download, once we pass through the artificial atmosphere, are rudimentary and difficult to follow at best. I’m better off navigating by sight.
And it is quite a sight.
Ships of all shapes, sizes, and ages filter in and out in vaguely organized lines, managed by some unspoken agreement. As much as I proclaim this place to be a haven for criminal activity—and it certainly is—it’s also at the leading end of plenty of tech advancements outside of Amerov. Engineering thrives in a city that survives to be self-sustaining, both a giant ship and its own planet with different sectors and cultures combined. Innovations in space travel happen pretty organically. It’s dangerous unless you know how to handle yourself, but if you’re of the moderately tough sort that knows about your industry, this is a place to find work. Anything from weapon manufacturing to hiring out hands for outfits like Lee’s goes down here. I found one of my first jobs out of this place. It was ages ago now, but I hold a weirdly soft spot in my heart for this ugly light show of a floating city.
That being said, I won’t be letting Bat or any of the humans out of my sight. It shouldn’t be dangerous traversing some of the main thoroughfares, so I’m more nervous about leaving any of them in the ship than I am taking them along.
Well, I’d be fine leaving Zane and La, but the idea of either Yvonne or Anya alone without us makes my stomach turn.
“I’ve read about this place,” Yvonne says, resting her hands and chin atop my head. Zane casts us a look and rubs his mouth, trying with everything in him not to laugh. His shoulders still shake in silence. I kick him under the console, albeit gently.
Ignoring us, Yvonne continues, “I didn’t expect it to be this large.”
“It’s probably as big as Taloon,” I say. “Which reminds me, this is a good place to get a crystal. Not that we need another one. Unless you have anything else up your sleeve.”
“Haha, very funny.”
We head further into the center of the drifting city. Though we’re blocked from the light of the star we’re stuck orbiting, it’s brighter now than it was in the dark of space. This place is all lights. Any buildings along the outside pointed into space are coated with solar cells to collect as much raw energy from the nearby star as possible. I know this place is powered in other ways, but I’m not entirely sure how it works. I’m fairly certain this floating junk heap is a mystery to most of the people who live here—I have a vague memory of reading about this place on the planet files Audra let me flip through when I was bored, and her not knowing much about it when I asked.
There are a few places in the galaxy that are simply inexplicable, that approach impossible even with all our tech. Someone out there runs this place and there are people somewhere who know how it functions, but I wouldn’t know. And neither would some of the most powerful Amerov numbers.
Does Captain have any idea? Probably. He has his nose stuck in things he isn’t even supposed to be involved in, I’m certain of it.
A few minutes of slow travel past tunnels of buildings clustered together like barnacles brings us to a wider opening of one of the larger ship ports. With catwalks crossing the dizzying expanse of space all around, it’s a strange little rounded pocket in the giant beast of a city. If someone were to fall from one of the walkways meant for parked ships, they’d eventually hit a shield far below meant to stop anything crashing on the residents and buildings below the floating shipyard. The gravity in here is pretty strange, meant to hold up the ships but not keep us from walking into the core of the city, but it won’t stop one of us from falling to our death.
Far below, in the hazy artificial light, I can glimpse other tunnels leading in different directions into the city. Theoretically, I know one of them should lead to the core of this place, but I don’t think the average person can get to it, and it certainly wouldn’t be smart for me to hang around and snoop. We have a job to do, after all.
It’s one of the few places in the galaxy where shipyard parking is free—they’ll get their money in other ways, mainly fuel—and I guide us into an empty slot away from other vessels as much as possible. All the humans are hovering over my shoulders, getting a good look outside.
“We’re gonna go there first,” I say, pointing to one of the smaller, red buildings at the end of the largest catwalk we’re parked along. “The atmosphere and air here are pretty wild, and they want people who visit here to wear respirators. They’re small and cheap.”
“Really,” Lalia says. “You’re gonna put something on your face other people want you to?”
Bat snickers. “She’s got a point.”
“I wouldn’t wear one if it were just me. A few days wouldn’t do any damage. I’m mostly synthetic, anyway. But you tend to stand out more if you don’t wear one than if you do. And they cover up the bottom portion of your face.”
“Harder to recognize us,” Zane mutters.
“Right. And you two: find your glasses.” I gesture at the princesses.
Yvonne disappears into my bunk room to rummage through my things, not for the first time. Rolling my eyes, I check the panel in my arm for the DNA file I grabbed off Amerov. I put a copy into my ship’s computer ages ago given the tendency I have to get things broken and implants damaged—my head is only hurting a little now—but the panel and file are still in running order. Encrypted as it is, I know someone here will manage to unravel this for us. And we have Zane and Lalia for their DNA to match to.
Glancing at the gaggle of humans I’ve managed to collect, I swing around in my chair, “Alright, listen up, idiots—”
“Yeah, maybe don’t address my parents that way and they’ll like you,” Yvonne puts in, reappearing with the pairs of glasses.
I ignore her. “Just because I’m bringing all of you along doesn’t mean this place isn’t dangerous. I doubt anyone’s gonna start a fight with us right in the middle of the street. No one’s gonna scream bounty because that would just start a fight and half this place probably has a criminal record, but I’m serious when I say this: don’t engage with anyone. Don’t speak to anyone unless they’re really trying to get your attention and it would be more suspicious if you were silent. Don’t go up to vendors unless I say it’s alright. Don’t. Wander. Away from me. Don’t mention Bat and don’t talk to him. Don’t mention cyborgs or royals or anything. We are trying to find someone to unravel this DNA file, and then we leave. If we really must stop anywhere, we’ll discuss it and work it out. Yes, I’m paranoid, but, well, you all know why.”
