Niya
Right before the intermission, right during my favorite scene in the first part of Parst, the scene where the bomb that Joston’s set to explode fails and he’s forced to go back to the site and detonate it by hand and you’re almost rooting for him except you’re also wishing that he’ll fuck up and get killed—right before the most exciting part of that scene, Aymee jabs me in the ribs and motions for me to follow her. Then she grabs my hand and starts pulling me out of my chair.
I look at Aeryen, who’s so intent on the vid that he doesn’t even notice I’ve gotten up, but I catch Draybirge’s eye—he’s sitting right next to Aeryen—and he nods. He’ll look after him.
I can hardly see, but Aymee’s Chorynean, so I let her lead the way, guiding me through the pitch-dark room and out into the corridor.
“I thought we were meeting them at the intermission,” I say once we get out of the theater.
“It’s Lasson,” Aymee says. “He hasn’t been able to get through to anyone until now. He just commed me, said the palace is being attacked, he’s trapped inside, and could I send Joston down to get him out of there.”
“This has been brewing for a long time,” I say. “Even back when Chlo was still on Engra. Did you comm Joston yet?”
“I can’t!” Aymee says. “His comm’s off.”
“Hell!” I say.
Aymee is charged up. And even though I’d thought she could barely get up from her chair, she’s now half running down the corridor toward the flight deck, one of the few places on the Marinax whose location I know.
I try to raise Joston on my comm, but his comm is still off. So is Nik’s. And Chlo’s.
I can tell that Aymee’s doing the same thing, since every once in a while she says, “Damn you!” then starts running faster.
We get to the flight deck, thinking we’ll see everyone there, since it’s almost time to meet them, but not only are none of them here and not only do none of them have their comms turned on, but Aymee has a look on her face that tells me that something is dreadfully wrong.
“What is it?” I say.
“Transport raft three,” she says.
That was the raft Joston used. The raft Joston, Aeryen, and I used. Except I look at the docking space where Aymee’s looking and I see what she’s seeing—or not seeing.
The raft’s gone.
“Damn you, Nik Arca,” Aymee says. “What the fucking hell are you doing?”
“They left without us,” I say. “I cannot believe they left without us!”
“Okay,” Aymee says. “Can you get through to any of them?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve been trying since we left the theater.”
“The three of them,” Aymee says. “When we find them I’m going to lock them in the hotbox and throw away the key.”
“What is the hotbox?” I say as I eye the flight suits hanging on the wall next to me.
“A temperature-controlled storage locker,” Aymee says. “It’s about two billion degrees in there.”
“You say that like you’ve been in there.”
“I have,” Aymee says. “I’ll tell you later. But right now we have to figure out what we’re going to do. How we’re going to contact my husband and our former friends and alert them to what’s happening on Engra. On what’s happening to Lasson.”
“I don’t know how we’re going to contact your former friends, but I do know what we’re going to do.”
“Tell me,” Aymee says.
“You’re going to stay here and I’m going to put on a flight suit and a helmet, get in one of these transports, and land on the roof of the palace. After that, I’ll figure it out.”
“Great plan,” Aymee says. “Except for one detail. I’m coming with you.”
I start to argue but by then Aymee’s already stepping into a huge flight suit—one that’d probably fit the giant Draybirge and that Aymee needs in order to cover her very pregnant belly—so I follow her lead, grabbing a flight suit and getting into it myself.
“Nik Arca is the most infuriating male in the universe,” Aymee says as she sets the flight deck’s controls so we can take off without assistance. Since everyone, except a skeleton crew at the helm, is in the theater, it’ll be a while before anyone notices that not just one, but two transports are missing.
“I’d have to think that honor goes to Joston Lynar,” I say.
“Deny all you want, Niya, but, assuming we all get out of this alive, my money’s on the two of you.”
I glare at Aymee as she wedges herself into the copilot’s seat.
“Wait,” I say. “Aren’t you going to pilot this thing?”
“Are you kidding me?” Aymee says. “You’re going to.”
“But—”
“You mean?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” I say. “I’m a flight controller. Not a pilot. I was counting on you. You’re the ship’s chief engineer. You must know how to fly this thing.”
“I do,” Aymee says.
“Then sit in the pilot’s seat, where you belong,” I say.
“I do know how to fly it . . . theoretically,” Aymee says.
“But not actually?”
“Well,” she says.
I get into the pilot’s seat and close the raft’s lid. What the hell. I’ve arranged for the takeoff and landing of about 157 million of these transports, give or take. I’ve been in loads of them during flight and heard innumerable pilots describe every procedure. And I’ve helped Ozker study for his pilot exams.
“I shouldn’t let you come with me,” I say to Aymee, who’s smiling a great huge smile, obviously thrilled by what we’re about to do. “But I’m going to need your help to fly this thing.”
“I probably shouldn’t let you fly this thing,” Aymee says. “But I wouldn’t know how to find the palace without you. And we have no way of knowing if Lasson’s been able to contact anyone else.”
“Let’s go,” I say. “Ready?”
Aymee does something on the dash, the array lights up, I visualize the materials from Ozker’s textbooks and engage the controls, and we sail out of the Marinax like two experts.
Two pissed-off, scared shit experts.