Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(109)

I’ll need to fuse with Psynergy from the whole Zodiac.





41


SOMEHOW, OCHUS’S ARM IS STILL SWINGING. I dig deeper into my Center, staring into the blinking lights of the twelve constellations, until I’m fusing with the Psynergy flowing from the whole solar system.

I’m borrowing psychic energy from people all over, the way Ochus does, so my pulling tugs on his own store of Psynergy, and his fist falls.

What is this? he demands. You can’t do this!

We wrestle for power, each of us gaining and losing physical strength. Ochus has an easier time retaining his hold on this dimension, and I don’t have Abyssthe, or even my Ring, to help. All I have is me—so it’s a good thing I’m an everlasting flame.

I keep holding on, knowing it’s only a matter of time until Ochus’s gradual change comes over him—the burden of time—and he grows old. When eventually he curves into his hunched form, he lets go. He can’t defeat me in this shape.

So. You have won a round. Perhaps you will even become a worthy opponent in time. His body grows less visible every moment, but his black-hole eyes remain dark, churning in midair.

This game never ends, but you have earned a respite. House Cancer has nothing further to fear from me.

I glare at him. You’ve already destroyed it. What about the other Houses?

Hear me well, child. This game never ends. I serve a master who has more surprises in store.

He wheezes a fading laugh. Then he blows me a kiss. A sharp, white-hot kiss of pure Psynergy.

I dodge, but the poison dart burns a glancing blow across my neck, etching my skin like acid.

Remember me, he says, vanishing.

I feel myself plummeting downward through burning gases and dust, flailing my arms, and then solidifying into a mass of pain. My head smacks the deck of the Wasp, and I touch the throbbing wound on my neck.

As soon as I look up, my Wasp’s mechanical voice chirps. “Warning. Hydrogen leak.”

I look around. I’m alone in Space.

“Passenger eject,” says the voice. “Eject urgently.”

The console buzzes with emergency messages. My Wasp’s powertrain is about to rupture.

On autopilot, I zip my suit up all the way and put my helmet back on, wincing from the pain in my hands. Then I cinch the belt tight and speak the final command.

With a detonating crack, my cabin capsule separates from the engine assembly and tumbles away. Soon the orange flash of the rupturing powertrain spins across my porthole like an angry sun. The capsule has no navigation, so I can’t direct it. I just turn over and over on end, until—

Thump.

I’m caught in the claws of a grappling arm, which has appeared out of nowhere. I’m not spinning anymore, so I watch the arm haul me in, holding my breath, unsure who’s got me.

And then a much smaller ship coasts into view. A skiff, its lights blinking.

Tears fill my eyes. It’s Hysan.

? ? ?

As soon as my capsule’s inside the Xitium’s bay, Hysan’s skiff glides in and docks, and Sirna pries open my hatch. When she sees my face, her helmet shield rests against mine, and I hear her voice. “Praise Helios, you’re alive.”

Hysan springs out of his skiff and lifts me from the capsule, clasping me in his arms. The outer bay doors shut, and the three of us cycle through an airlock to the ship’s interior. We rip off our helmets. “How did you find me?”

Sirna touches a spot at the center of my chest. “I’ve followed all your movements, Guardian. The pearl I gave you is a tracker.”

Spyware? She lied to me? I look up at her, the indignation building in my chest—and when I see the expression of exhaustion and determination on her face, I realize I should be grateful. She saved my life. “Thank you.”

We’ve entered what looks like a metal shop. Shears, rollers, punchers, and drills are clamped to the walls, and two uniformed soldiers wield a plasma cutter to slice a sheet of steel. The air smells of ozone. “They’re making repairs to the ship,” says Sirna. “Let’s stay out of their way.”

I peel off the constricting gloves, wincing.

“Rho, your hands,” says Hysan, gingerly holding my wrists so he can survey the damage without inflicting more, then examining the rest of me. “Your neck, too.”

“Frostbite,” I say. “Ophiuchus. He injured me with Psynergy.”

“How is that possible?” asks Sirna.

Hysan wraps me in his arms again. “I’m so relieved you’re okay,” he says, his voice husky. “We should get you into a life-support pod and heal your hands.”

We weave along a narrow passage cluttered with crates of food, water, and gear lashed to the walls. The Xitium’s a large ship, but its neutron drive and weapons take up most of its volume, and the spaces left over for humans are dim and cramped.

On the bridge, I greet the Ariean Captain Marq, a dark, leathery man built like a boulder. At the start of this mission, Marq seemed enthusiastic, but now when I thank him for rescuing me, he examines me with bloodshot eyes.

“Guardian,” he snarls, making my title sound like an insult. “The shields your colleague provided were worthless. Our ships are rupturing from the inside out. Reactor meltdowns, fires in munitions bays, unexplained hull breaches. We’re in full retreat.”