I swallow, hard. “I don’t like secrets.”
“It’s not like that.” His eyes grow greener. “Rho, that truth was mine to protect, and I swore never to speak of it to any soul other than the next Libran Guardian. I broke my sacred oath, and I didn’t do it for Mathias, or even House Cancer. I did it for you.”
Hysan walks out of the room, leaving me alone with his secrets and my guilt.
When the shower cuts off, I flee from the cabin, easing the door closed behind me. I hate keeping things from Mathias, but I don’t want to give him any more reasons to dislike Hysan. We’re going to need to work together on Aries, and that can’t happen if the guys are at each other’s throats.
I’ve never felt so far from home.
? ? ?
Night is falling when we reach Phaetonis. Sunset gives the domed capital city of Marson an amber sheen.
Equinox circles low over the spaceport just outside the city dome. The place is a fortress, bristling with laser canons, hover-drones, and radar surveillance. It’s also enclosed in a high mesh fence. “I don’t like this, but we need fuel,” says Hysan. “We won’t make it much farther.”
“Is there another depot?” asks Mathias.
“Not near the city.” Hysan circles again, watching the enhanced optical view on his screens. “I’ll put us down as close as I can get to the fuel pumps at the edge of the port.”
A vibrocopter sits on the pad beside the pumps, and two armed soldiers patrol around it, wearing dusty helmets and air masks. We watch them through Equinox’s glass nose while we alight on the field adjacent to the pad, as soundless and invisible as a sigh.
The soldiers whip around and point their guns at us. “Come out, and put down your weapons,” they command.
I cover my mouth to imprison my scream. How can they see our ship if we’re invisible?
Mathias and I look at Hysan in alarm, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the guns pointed at our heads. “Sleep,” he whispers, and a halo of gaseous white mist spurts out from Equinox’s hull, showering the soldiers. Instantly, they fall like rag dolls.
I gasp, but Hysan chuckles. “They’re only napping. The heat of our engines must have given us away.”
When he offers us our veil collars, Mathias says, “Enough deceit.”
“You’re insane,” says Hysan. “You don’t know this world. You told Rho yourself, it’s brimming with criminals and spies.”
“We’ll do it Mathias’s way,” I say, the guilt of keeping Hysan’s secret still burning through me.
Hysan stows the veil collars.
Before leaving the ship, we all put on lightweight air masks. While I stand lookout, Hysan and Mathias hustle to the pumps, grab the hoses, and feed Equinox’s empty belly with ultracold fluid plasma. It’s funny how the guys get along like dance partners when they’re doing physical work.
Hysan drops some galactic gold coins by the pumps, then steals gate keys from one of the unconscious soldiers. We then set off at a flat-out run, dodging under passenger ships, hiding behind beastly ground vehicles with tires the size of small moons, and sneaking around ranks of soldiers wielding grenade launchers and rifles.
It’s deep twilight now, and we’re making fast time in the weaker gravity, but this spaceport looks as if it’s under siege. Laser burns riddle some of the hangar walls, and the sooty blooms of recent fires stain the launch pad. Searchlights rove over the tarmac, and the high mesh fence is topped by concertina wire.
Mathias stays close beside me, Taser in hand, pivoting constantly and scanning the area with his field glasses. Hysan uses the stolen keys to exit the fenced-in spaceport through a maintenance gate, and we can’t leave fast enough—until I see what lies beyond the fence.
The historic capital city of House Aries is ringed by a gargantuan slum. I’d seen pictures of the slum in our Acolyte studies, but the holographic images didn’t convey the decomposing feel of death that pervades the air.
Shacks lean and tilt on mountains of rotting garbage, and the valleys in between are open sewers. Even with the air mask, the stench makes me dizzy.
Through the open doors of the shacks, we see older people silhouetted in pools of lantern light, and they’re sewing, hammering, assembling electronic devices, sharpening knives. Overhead, modern pulse-trains rocket from the spaceport into the city center, skipping over the slum.
“We have to catch a train,” says Hysan. “It’ll take too long to cross on foot in the dark.”
Mathias points to one of the massive columns supporting the elevated train track. “Maybe we can climb it.”