The Star Host

Copyright © 2016 F.T. Lukens

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 13: 978-1-941530-72-6 (trade)

ISBN 13: 978-1-941530-73-3 (ebook)

Published by Duet, an imprint of Interlude Press

http://duetbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All trademarks and registered trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

Book design and Cover illustrations by CB Messer

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This book is dedicated to The College of William and Mary Science Fiction and Fantasy Club – affectionately known as Skiffy, and to these members specifically: Angela, Tom, Corey, Seanie, Sean, Karyl, Craig, Liza, Chris S., & Skittles Mike.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

—The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams

CONTENTS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

1

Ren sprinted.

Chest heaving with laughter, he ran toward the lake. He shucked off his homespun shirt and dropped it on the beach. He hopped, pulling off his boots one at a time and kicking white sand everywhere. His younger brother emerged from the forest a few paces behind him. Liam’s legs were not as long as Ren’s, and he stumbled onto the beach, red-faced and sweating.

No fair, Liam panted. You always beat me.

Down to his trousers, his clothing thrown into a haphazard pile, Ren glanced over his shoulder and smiled. I’m older. It’s my right.

Liam huffed as he wriggled out of his shirt. I hope you burn.

Sore loser, Ren said. He waded into the lake; the cool water lapped at his calves. Are you coming?

Liam didn’t answer, but the large splash that soaked Ren was answer enough. Water spilled over Ren’s dark hair, and he laughed. Wiping the droplets off his face, Ren dove under the low, rolling waves.

Spring had finally arrived at their village on the planet Erden. The sun, the brightest star in the cluster, burned above them. It warmed the soil and melted the snow and ice from the distant mountains. In the late afternoon, the shadows of the forest grew longer, casting dark blobs on the small beach. Twilight would arrive soon, as the sky was already darkening toward sunset.

Ren and Liam bobbed in the lake; the water was too cool for them to swim for long. After splashing a few minutes, Ren paddled to the shore. He plopped onto the sand, spread out his limbs and basked in the fading sunlight, allowing the last few rays to dry his hair and skin.

Done already? Liam called.

It’s cold.

Stick-in-the-mud.

Ren chuckled and folded his arms behind his head. He squinted up into the deepening blue and spotted the broken moon of Erden hanging low, emerging slowly among the wispy clouds. Liam dropped beside him and shook his head, spraying Ren with icy droplets.

Ugh. Stop it, Ren said, pushing Liam on the shoulder. Go shake like a dog over there.

Why do you always do that?

Ren dropped his hand to the sand. Do what?

Look at the stuff in the sky. You’re never getting up there, you know.

Ren frowned. I might.

Not likely, Liam answered. He lay down next to Ren so their shoulders touched.

Ren was older than Liam by two years. They shared a mother, but not a father. Ren’s father was a member of a Phoenix Corps regiment that had passed through their village eighteen years ago. Ren never knew him. And while Liam took after their mother—short, stocky and fair—Ren was his father’s child, tall and gangly with dark hair and dark eyes.

You’re so sure of that, are you? One day, I’m going to be on one of those ships and find work on a drift.

Doing what? Harvesting their nonexistent fields? You can wish on the stars all you want, Ren, but you were born a duster. Dusters don’t leave their planets.

Ren sighed. His brother was too pragmatic for his age, too stuck in the way things were always done. Ren could dream. He always did, of a place among the stars.

We’re not meant to be planet-bound. We’re part of them, you know.

You’re not seriously quoting the bedtime story Mom always told us.

Ren elbowed Liam in the ribs and earned a grunt. It’s not a story. It’s a legend.

It’s fiction.

Legends have truth in them.

Liam sat up, brushed away the sand clinging to his arms. You honestly believe we’re made of stardust?

It’s better than believing we’re made of dirt.

Liam rolled his eyes. And do you believe in men so powerful they broke the sky? And in women who can tell the future? And humans who became machines? And meteorites that can grant wishes?

Well, Ren said with a lazy grin, I know the last one isn’t true.

Yeah?

Yeah, I’ve been wishing you’d shut up since you were born, and it hasn’t happened yet.

Liam barked out a laugh. He grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it in Ren’s hair. Ren grasped his wrist and pulled him down. They wrestled, breathless and laughing, toppling over each other in the sand. Liam pinned Ren by his shoulders, punched him hard in the arm once and then toppled to the side.

If you go, Liam said, after a few moments of companionable silence, you’ll have to come home to visit. Mom will miss you like crazy.

Ren smiled and rubbed the blossoming bruise on his arm, knowing Liam wasn’t only talking about their mother. Of course. I’d miss Mom too. And you, despite your tendency to be a brat.

Liam smirked. Speaking of that, we should get back, he said, sitting up. Mom and Dad will be looking for us. Liam stood, gathered his clothes and slipped his shirt over his freckled shoulders.

I’ll follow in a while, Ren said.

Suit yourself.

Ren closed his eyes and listened to the rustle of fabric as Liam dressed. He heard the cracks of twigs and the crunch of leaves as Liam left the beach and walked back into the forest toward their home on the edge of the village.

Relaxing in the sand as its warmth leeched away with the slowly setting sun, Ren slipped in and out of a doze, fantasizing about escaping his dull life in the village. Every morning he woke and dressed and completed chores. At seventeen, Ren was too old for school, but too young to apprentice anywhere near the space docks, according to his mother. He was stuck weeding the garden or herding sheep or doing whatever his stepfather told him to do. Sometimes, Ren fixed gadgets, since he possessed a natural affinity for tech, but though those days were his favorites, they were few and far between. Their village had very little in the way of tech, since it usually cost more than it helped. And most of it was funneled from the space dock merchants to the Baron anyway.

In the quiet moments, Ren could close his eyes and picture a life beyond the borders of their little community: gleaming metal and flashing lights and artificial gravity and colorful people—a life of adventure and purpose. If only he could reach out and touch…

The ground suddenly rumbled beneath him, and the waves of the lake increased to a frenzy, slapping against the shore. Ren frowned, opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. It wasn’t unheard of for their planet to shake from time to time, but when he heard the low hum of engines, he scrambled to his feet.

Liam! he yelled, snatching his shirt up from the beach, hoping his brother hadn’t wandered too far. He tugged it on. Liam!

Floaters were coming—the Baron’s army looking for new recruits, willing or not.

Heart in his throat, Ren managed to shove his sandy feet into his boots. Then he ran into the forest. Arms pumping, lungs burning, he tore through the underbrush. He tripped, tore the heels of his hands on bark and stones. Pinpricks of blood dripped down his fingers. His calf muscles clenched; his thighs trembled. Sweat beaded along his forehead, flattened his dark hair to his temples and gathered at the back of his neck, dripping between the prominent bones of his shoulder blades.

He had to find Liam. They had to hide lest they be forced to serve. They were old enough now.

Ren could hear the floaters; the deep growl of their engines was a constant underlying thrum, an echo of his rabbit-fast heartbeat. Engineered to fly low to the ground and to carry soldiers, the floaters’ thrusters shook the earth. As Ren stumbled toward home, the sound grew louder, as did the voices of the men they carried. In the rapidly growing darkness, Ren sought a glimpse of his brother.

Too wide to navigate through the trees, the flatbed hovercrafts searched roads and alleys and dropped off soldiers for foot pursuit. Ren started to meet the youths of the village fleeing into the dense crush of the forest. Ren felt like a fish swimming upstream, as his shoulders bumped into boys and girls he knew.

Ren! Jakob called. You’re going the wrong way. They’re right behind us.

Ren plunged forward, desperately looking for a flash of reddish hair and pale skin.

Sorcha brushed past him and Ren caught her hand. She pulled to a stop, hair and eyes wild, face white. Ren, what are you doing?

Have you seen Liam?

She shook her head.

I have to find him.

Her small fingers curled around his own. He’s probably already hidden. Come on, she said, tugging. I know a place we can go.

Ren was tempted. She promised safety, and once Ren would have given anything for her to hold his hand, but the sounds of shouts and of boots tromping through the underbrush closed in. Screeches of fear and the charge of prods and yells of pain surrounded them, and Ren couldn’t leave until he knew his brother was safe.

He let her go. I have to find Liam first.

If you get caught…

I know. Go. I’ll catch up.

She nodded, gave him one last long look, and then turned and ran.

Ren changed direction and ran parallel to the edge of the forest, scanning the breaks in the new growth for a sign of his brother. He didn’t see him, but the sound of Liam’s voice, high-pitched and filled with fear, sliced through the encroaching noise.

Help me!

Liam!

Ren dashed toward the sound. He crashed through the undergrowth and burst into a meadow.

Three men in helmets, dressed in a mishmash of gray and black body armor, surrounded Liam. They stalked around him; their long cylindrical prods targeted him. They turned toward Ren.

Another one.

Liam shouted. Ren!

Get the little one first.

One of the men sprang toward Liam; a blue arc of electricity snapped from the end of his prod.

No! Ren cried. He tackled the attacking soldier before the weapon could touch Liam’s skin. The light of the prod shuddered out; the weapon had malfunctioned before it could deliver its debilitating shock. Ren thanked the stars, scrambled to his feet and backed away from the fallen man.

With the other two guards now focused on him, and with Liam behind him, Ren crouched low. The taller of the men approached them. His expression beneath the glossy face shield was unknowable, but Ren read his anger in the tight-gloved grip on his weapon and the tense line of his posture. With the lengthening shadows playing across his molded chest plate and shoulders, he appeared otherworldly, like a demon from one of Ren’s mother’s stories. He wasn’t an apparition born from the shadows in the wood to scare children back to their homes, but he was a monster all the same, and the fear of him shook Ren to his bones.

Run, Liam, Ren said, voice breathy.

I won’t leave you.

Go. Now. Find Sorcha.

But Ren–

I’ll catch up.

It was a lie. They both knew it.

Bye, Ren, Liam said, his voice catching.

Ren didn’t turn around, but he let out a sigh of relief when he heard his brother’s footsteps retreat.

One of the soldiers moved to run after Liam, but Ren collided with him, with enough force to bring them both to the ground. Ren had never fought, not even with the other boys in the village. He occasionally wrestled with Liam for fun, but never had he needed to defend himself.

Fueled by adrenaline and fear, he kicked and hit as they rolled on the leaf-strewn meadow. He clawed and scratched to keep the prod away from his body. The weapon sputtered out, leaving the soldier to rely on his superior training to keep Ren on the ground.

The first punch to his jaw snapped Ren’s head back and the second stunned him. His limbs went limp.

The soldier stood, breathing harshly.

How the hell did you do that? the soldier demanded.

Ren rolled his head to the side. His chest heaved. His vision swam. His jaw hurt; the corner of his lip bled.

I didn’t.

The soldier grabbed the last working prod from his companion. He tested it. Electricity sizzled, crackling in the air. The smell of ozone wafted into Ren’s nose.

Ren scurried backward, pulse racing, fear ratcheting higher with every step the soldier took toward him.

He didn’t get far. His palms slipped on a patch of slick moss. He squeezed his eyes shut when the soldier stabbed the sparking weapon into his torso. He waited for the pain, braced himself against it, muscles tensing, but all he felt was the blunt end of the prod grinding against his ribs.

He opened one eye and found the three soldiers staring down at him with astonished expressions. The prod rested useless in the soldier’s slack fingers.

What the stars?

Who are you? What are you?

Ren was as confused as they were. I’m nothing, he said.

Yeah. I don’t believe that for half a second.

The soldier looked at the weapon and the other two crowded closer, checking the charge, arguing over what buttons to push.

Ren saw his last chance at escape. He rolled to his stomach and coiled his legs beneath his body, but that was as much as he managed. The prods were still effective clubs, and the pain of the blow erupted at the base of Ren’s skull.

He flopped forward, face smooshed in the grass. His vision wavered, the edges blackening with every breath.

He felt a toe nudge his hip. Three prods dead on one kid. We’re going to catch hell when we get back to the citadel.

Ren made one last effort to crawl away, but a heavy boot settled on the small of his back. Ren knew he should be afraid, but his thoughts were scattered, slipping through his mind like sand through a sieve. The soldiers pulled his arms behind him and snapped on a pair of shackles. The tech automatically adjusted to the size of Ren’s wrists, binding them tight. With one last fleeting thought of Liam, Ren passed out.

2

Ren woke slowly.

His head ached; pain was a constant pulse in his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut against the bright sun as an errant tear tracked down his cheek.

Stars, he hurt, and the jostling of the vehicle he rode in didn’t help matters at all. He was in a floater—that much he had gathered from the hum of the engines—one that had seen better days, if the rocking and sputtering were any indication.

With a low groan, Ren opened his eyes. He was alone, unguarded, obviously not deemed a threat or a flight risk. His head rested on a sack of grain, his body on boxes, and the corners were digging into his lanky frame. He was in a cargo bed, and, judging by the number of crates, not only had the soldiers raided the village for new recruits, they had taken the remnants of the winter stores as well. The village would suffer a few harsh weeks, but it was spring, and game would return to the forest and the fruit trees would bloom. They’d be all right.

Ren wasn’t so sure he would be. The sun was rising. The blow to the head had rendered him unconscious for hours. He could feel the tacky sensation of dried blood pulling on his skin as he craned his neck to look around.

He tested his restraints. His hands were bound behind his back. His shoulders ached and his fingers tingled. It would be hard to maneuver, but he needed to see where he was and if he had any chance at escape.

Sighing, he used his shoulder for leverage and managed to roll onto his side. His vision swam.

He tugged against the shackles. I wish these could come off, he muttered.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he heard a whirr and a click and the tech loosened. Gasping in surprise, he gave another pull and the cuffs fell away.

Carefully, Ren brought his hands to the front of his body, breathing through the stings of pain in his arms and the rush of blood back to his fingers. He stared at his hands, confused and awed, and he gently rubbed his wrists where thick red lines circled them from the cuffs.

After a few minutes, while Ren allowed his body and head to adjust, he slowly reached for the shackles. They flapped open. The clasp was no longer powered; the energy source was depleted, just like the prods, rendered utterly useless. Was the Baron’s tech this bad or was Ren extremely lucky? Either way, it meant Ren was free.

His heart thumped hard. He was free. Escape was now a possibility. He could go home.

Swallowing the sudden excitement, Ren took a few deep, steadying breaths and formed a tentative plan. The floater’s bed was a few feet deep, so his body was not readily visible unless a guard looked down and in, but because Ren was lying on top of the supplies, he could lift his head and peek over the side. Depending on what he saw, he could easily swing over to the ground and make a run for it.

He looked out over the lip of the bed.

His breath caught.

All along the side of the cargo ship floaters hovered, fully manned, with soldiers standing in the beds, armed and alert. Most of them wielded prods, but a few had stunners—guns that shot pulses of electricity, meant to incapacitate and hurt, but not cause lasting harm. If Ren tried to run, he wouldn’t make it far.

The soldiers weren’t the only thing that made Ren’s resolve sink. Behind each floater marched a line of young men and women, hands shackled in front of them, all of them looking exhausted, filthy and tattered. Among them, Ren picked out the striking white-blonde of Sorcha’s hair, and next to her Jakob trudged wearily along, blood caked on the side of his face.

There were others too. Dozens of youths Ren didn’t recognize, probably from villages near his own.

He scanned the crowd as best as he could, looking for Liam. He didn’t see him in the pack from home, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, somewhere, among the groups that were too far away for Ren to see clearly.

Ren ducked back down quickly; to keep searching would mean discovery. The hope he had moments before was utterly gone. Liam could be out there. He could be shoved into the back of a floater, like Ren.

Ren wasn’t going to abandon his brother to the fate that awaited them at the Baron’s citadel, but he was going to be smart about it.

Squirming around, Ren found a spot where he could sit up against a crate and stretch out his legs, but remain unseen. He picked up the malfunctioning cuffs; the clasps opened; the mechanism became inert. Cautiously, he fitted the cuffs around his wrists, pretending to bind his hands, but in the front of his body, like the others. He could pretend to be shackled until the moment was right, until he could find Liam, and together they would escape.

Hands in his lap, Ren adjusted the cuffs as best he could so they would appear to be working. And just as he managed that, the shackles whirred back to life and clamped down, forcing a gasp from Ren. They bound him tightly, as if they had never stopped working.

He stared down at them open-mouthed, confused and wishing they hadn’t formed so tightly around his wrists that they restricted his blood flow.

The cuffs loosened.

Ren flexed his fingers.

Something was strange about the Baron’s tech, and if Ren could puzzle out what it was, when the time came, it could help in his and Liam’s escape.

He would have to study it. And he would, because he was not going to be a slave and neither was his brother.

* * *

For as long as Ren could remember, the Baron had been the ruler of their fief, a patch of land that included several villages, a spaceport that bordered the neighboring fief and several lakes. He wasn’t a hands-on leader by any means and Ren didn’t think he’d visited