The Planet Thieves (5 page)

At the time, Mason was two years shy of Academy I, but at age fourteen, Susan was already in her second year of Academy II. They let her take a shuttle from Mars to the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Mason met her at the memorial service, seeing her for the first time in a year. Mason remembered her as looking older than she did now. She had bags under her eyes and her mouth never moved except to talk.

The ceremony took place on the street, next to the land that once held the headquarters. The Tremist bomb hadn't made a crater—instead it simply erased everything inside a circle the size of a few blocks. Where Mason stood, buildings were perfectly cross-sectioned, their walls sheered away, leaving them structurally intact until work crews could rebuild them. At the edge of the blast radius, he could see couches and tables and wirings and plumbing and insulation in the buildings. He could see a quarter mile away, where the glassy ground ended and the split-open buildings began again. His parents had died somewhere in there, broken down into their separate atoms.

He couldn't even think about it. His mind would turn fuzzy and gray, and he would think,
How can they just be atoms?

Mason wanted to hate the Tremist then, and he felt guilty that he didn't. He only felt confused.

Why had they attacked?
he asked himself.
For what?

Susan had held his sweaty hand within hers, and Mason watched the president say words he didn't hear. After, Susan kneeled in front of him and said, “I don't know what they're going to do with you. I'm too young to be your guardian, and they won't let me stop my studies.”

“I don't want you to stop your studies,” Mason replied. He wanted his sister to become a soldier, to fight the enemy. The Tremist had made the war personal. Now he felt something. He was almost shaking. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to join her. Not because he wanted to fight or kill anyone, but because his parents defended Earth. It was what they believed in. Serving the human race in the protection of others was the highest calling, his mother had said once, when Mason asked, “What's a good job?”

For two years after that Mason was in a group foster home full of ESC orphans. He watched television and exercised like his father had, sometimes sneaking out to run on the streets at night. After one year he was through waiting: he stowed away on a ship, met Merrin, and was sent home for the last painful and lonely year. But then he returned to Academy I. There he learned how to fight, and fight well.

*   *   *

The room was quiet. The other cadets hadn't noticed; they were busy against the window, craning their necks for a view outside.

Mason slowly reached out to put a hand on Tom's shoulder, but hesitated, stopping an inch away. He was almost afraid to touch Tom, who was as motionless as glass. Mason worried he might break the same way.

Merrin wasn't afraid; she pulled Tom into a hug, which Tom allowed for three whole seconds before gently breaking free. His eyes were bloodshot and he was taking deep, slow breaths. “I'm going to kill those alien
freaks,
” he growled in a voice Mason had never heard before.

Finally, they agreed on something. The rage Tom was feeling would burn away all his fear, and it was always better to be angry than afraid.

“Then let's get out of here.” Mason pointed toward the terminal.

Tom's fingers danced over the screen, opening a complex series of menus meant to be accessed
only
by the Egypt's programmers and engineers. The cadets were technically locked in, but if Tom could convince the computer it was an emergency, the door would open. Mason considered just asking Elizabeth, the ship's AI, to let them out, but she had ears everywhere, and probably knew they were supposed to stay put.

As he watched Tom type in strange commands, Mason thought about Susan. She was out there, maybe fighting, maybe dead. There would be a new captain now, automatically promoted, but Mason wasn't sure who. Commander Lockwood, maybe.

Half of the screen cycled through various cameras and showed Tremist pouring into the ship, marching along the catwalks in neat columns, laser rifles—what some ESC soldiers called
talons
—held at the ready. Tom closed the video feeds and replaced them with more menus.

“Let's be smart about this,” Stellan said. “We go out there weaponless, they're just going to kill us or take us as hostages.”

“No one is stopping me from going out there,” Tom said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I dare you to try.”

Mason wouldn't try. He'd be at Tom's side. If they weren't quite friends, at least they had a common enemy.

Merrin had been pinching the bridge of her nose, something she did when thinking hard. She lowered her hand suddenly, and her eyes were clear and focused. “I'm going too. We'll find weapons. If we can help in any way, the punishment will be worth it. If we lose … well … it won't matter.”

That made perfect sense. And so it was decided. Tom gave her a grateful nod, then pretended to scratch his face so he could wipe away a tear.

Mason said, “Jeremy and Stellan, I need you guys to stay here and watch the rest of the cadets.”

“No way!” Jeremy gave him a look like Mason had just suggested they all step through the nearest air lock into outer space.

“Who's going to protect them?” He winked at Stellan. “Could Stellan do it all by himself?”

Jeremy thought about that for two whole seconds. “I, uh, see your point.”

Stellan smiled secretly, not taking offense, Mason knew.

Mason leaned in and whispered directly into Jeremy's ear. “If we don't make it back, or it looks like we're losing, get everyone to an escape shuttle. Okay?”

Mason pulled back, and Jeremy nodded grimly. He would get it done.

The computer beeped at Tom, who actually growled.

Merrin said, “Let's be smart. Where is the nearest armory?”

“Two levels down, six hundred feet aft of our position,” Tom said at once.

“We arm ourselves, then figure out how to help,” Mason said.

“Great plan, did you come up with that all on your own?” Tom asked, not taking his eyes off the screen. Mason had to force his mouth to stay closed; Tom was allowed to be angry and snide in the wake of his mother's death, as long as he kept it together.

Merrin tapped her foot next to the console; now that they had a plan, Mason knew she'd be itching to move. “How close, Thomas?” she asked.

“A few more seconds.”

Mason nodded toward the younger cadets near the window, and Jeremy and Stellan took that as their cue to begin babysitting. The younger cadets didn't seem frightened; they were all jostling for position even though the Tremist ship was hidden on the other side of the Egypt. Mason didn't know whether they were brave or stupid. In fact, he didn't know if
he
was brave or stupid. The smart thing, the thing his sister would want him to do, was to stay put. To wait until a soldier came for them.

But waiting could bring Tremist instead of soldiers.

The ship groaned around them, and Mason felt the floor rotate under him: the ship was turning. The stars spun sideways until a bright blue sun appeared not so very far away.

“Almost there,” Tom said. Sweat rolled down his face, and maybe some tears, too. Merrin kept shifting from foot to foot, lower lip between her teeth. Tom typed in another command and the words UNLOCK and LOCK popped on the screen. He jabbed the UNLOCK with his finger and the door went
plink!
“There!”

Mason grabbed the door and slid it open.

The three of them stepped into the hallway and crouched, making themselves smaller targets. The backup lighting was dim; panels flickered white and red in the ceiling. Mason's eyes darted through the gloom, searching for immediate danger. He expected screams but it was quiet, save the omnipresent whisper of the ship. Where the cadet quarters were alive with bodies and hushed voices, this felt like stepping into a tomb.

Go back,
a voice inside him whispered.
You'll get in the way, you're not a real soldier, you're not safe out here, where monsters roam the halls.

He clenched his jaw, grinding the thoughts under his molars.

To the left, the corridor ended at an elevator. To the right, the corridor ended at a sharp left turn. It would lead them back toward the crossbar, and to the bridge.

From around the crossbar corner, Mason heard feet pounding on the carpeted floor. “Fall back!” someone shouted. “Fall—” The voice cut off as a beam of green light etched the wall at the turn. The talon beam rose and fell, cutting off screams. The weapon buzzed like a thousand angry hornets, yet Mason could still hear bodies hitting the floor.

To run from the enemy was only cowardice when you had a fighting chance: the lesson echoed now in his brain, but hearing those screams made it difficult to retreat.
Be smart,
he told himself.

Merrin tugged his sleeve toward the elevator. “Move it!”

Mason began to move, but Susan's voice boomed through the ship: “This is Captain Susan Stark.”

Despite the danger of being out in the open, Mason smiled. Susan was alive. There was no pain in her voice; she wasn't injured. His little prank hadn't ruined her concentration after all.

Her microphone clicked again. “All crew—”

Susan's voice was cut off by the too-familiar buzz of a talon.

 

Chapter Five

Mason froze, waiting for his sister's voice to come back. Death was something they talked about at the Academy, but talk was talk, and this felt like a bucket of cold water to the face. A second passed, and then another, and she did not speak again, and Mason was paralyzed, remembering what it was like to see Captain Renner fall.
This is how Tom felt,
he thought.

Susan wouldn't leave him; she knew she was all Mason had left. Without her he was just a person, not a brother. Without her, he didn't mean anything to anybody, except Merrin, of course, but that was different. Susan was the only family he had left, and he would do whatever he could to help her.

Merrin grabbed his hand and gently pulled, then tugged when it was clear Mason wasn't moving.

“C'mon,” she whispered. “She's okay. I'm sure they just knocked out the com.”

Mason wanted to move, but it felt like he was going to throw up. He could taste it in the back of his mouth, the burn of acid and fear, and he didn't know how to make it go away. Susan had told him about a trick once, but something she only used rarely. Sometimes, if she was afraid, she'd take all her fear and gather it up and turn it into anger. Anger didn't paralyze the way fear did. It was the opposite of being helpless. But it was dangerous too, because you could end up being angry all the time.

Mason got angry.

He let it flow through him, didn't bother trying to temper it with logic or reason. He could feel it scouring the weakness from him, giving him the strength he would need to keep going.

Tom waited for them in the elevator, holding it open with his arm. “Get in!” he hissed.

Just as the talon stopped cutting into the wall.

“Shh, quiet,” a man's voice said from down the corridor. “Listen.” But Mason knew there could be no men left; the chuffing sounds the P-cannons made had faded to silence. So who had spoke? It didn't matter: facing the Tremist unarmed would help no one. Mason and Merrin padded toward the elevator as quietly as they could. Now he wanted to run, but their footsteps would give away their presence.

Then the ship's computer, Elizabeth, said, “Cadet Renner, please stop blocking the elevator door.”

Mason and Merrin jumped into the elevator and spun in time to see three Tremist charge around the corner. They were at full sprint, faster than he thought men could move. Their plate armor shimmered wetly, shifting between purple and black, catching the sterile light of the spaceship and making it alien. Mason saw his own face in the flat mirrored surface that was the leading Tremist's faceplate.

Tom had moved his arm, but the door was still open. They were only thirty feet away now.

“Shut the door!” Mason yelled, pressing himself against the wall.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied airily, and the door began to shut.

The three Tremist paused when they realized they wouldn't make it in time, and then lifted the talons to their shoulders. The soldier part of Mason's brain, the part that didn't get afraid, noted the angle at which the Tremist held their weapons, how, in the next second, each beam would slice through them at the breastbone.

The door sealed; Mason dragged Merrin and Tom to the floor as the talons' green beams crisscrossed through the door and heated the air above them until it was crackling. Then the car descended, giving the illusion of the beams rising up through the door until they disappeared through the ceiling.

The air was hot and baked and smelled like electricity.

The door opened on the next level down, into a corridor identical to the one they just left. Tom had his dataslate plugged into a port on the elevator. “Erasing our destination level … now! Bought us a few minutes.”

Merrin took the pad out of his hand. Her fingers danced over the screen until it flashed red. “There—the elevator is frozen.”

Tom scrunched his nose. “How did you…?”

Mason was already out of the elevator, straining to hear anything over the background noise. It was quiet, and the ship didn't feel like it was moving anymore. They walked down the hall and passed through a doorway on the right, to a parallel corridor that would take them to one of the armories. Mason hoped his weapons training would serve him:
Weapons and Tactics
was one of his best classes. It was time to see how all that practice translated in a real live combat situation. A simple instruction came to his mind:
Relax, breathe, aim.