The Planet Thieves (2 page)

Mason decided Instructor Bazell had no idea what she was talking about: the facts didn't make him feel any better. Probably because his sister had crossed the bridge and now stood in front of him.

Susan grabbed Mason's arm and dragged him out from behind the console. Every eye was on him until Captain Renner barked, “I want a shield test while the Tremist are out of range!”

Susan pulled Mason off the bridge and across a hallway, to a set of stairs that took them one level down. A sign on the wall pointed the way left to general crew, and right to engineering.

When Mason looked up, his sister's eyes were shiny with tears and coffee. “I'm sorry, Susan. I really didn't mean it.”

“What did you mean?” she said in a calm way that was worse than yelling. Susan pulled him left, to general crew. The lights in the ceiling flickered red every few seconds, painting the walls in blood. Almost like the Egypt was showing the crew what would happen if they failed her.

“I thought you'd fall when no one was watching. I didn't know there'd be a code yellow.”

His sister was all Mason had, and if he played a trick on her it should be one they could both laugh at, not one at her expense. That's how he'd intended the Great Chair Collapse of 2800 to play out, anyway. Susan resembled their mother, and he their father; her hair and eyes were so dark they were almost black, while Mason's hair was sandy, and his eyes were a blue as bright as the Egypt's engine at full thrust.

“How could you know?” she said. “That was really mean, either way. You're lucky I like my coffee lukewarm.”

Mason didn't think it was possible, but he felt even worse: here she was, wasting her time dragging Mason to the brig. She should've been on the bridge, mind focused on the incoming Tremist.

An alarm began blaring up and down the hallway, in time with the red lights.

The captain's voice broke over the shipwide com: “All personnel who aren't at their stations, find a place to buckle up.”

Mason felt his sister tense through the grip she had on his arm.

Susan never showed fear, never got rattled. Mason didn't know what the alarm meant specifically, but if it gave Susan a physical reaction, he guessed
his
reaction should be to start crying.

“We have to stick together, you know?” Susan said over the noise. She led him to an elevator, which would drop them another two levels to the brig. “So I want you to think about what you did.”

“Susie—” Mason began. He never called her that. Not ever.

Susan winked but didn't smile. “Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.”

Mason didn't say anything. In a few hours, Susan would forgive him with a smile, and maybe get him back in some way. Not because she wanted to, but because she knew evening the score would let Mason know there were no hard feelings.

The lights suddenly flashed quicker—a code red 2, which meant direct contact within thirty seconds. Mason's heart was thumping so hard it hurt. He wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere he could help.
Punish me. Put me on a gun
. His greatest fear was happening now: he was waiting to be blown into space, with no way to put his training to use.

“We have to hurry,” she said. She released his arm and they broke into a jog. “You'll be safe in the brig.”

“Safe?”

“It's a code red, dummy. This area is secure,” his sister said matter-of-factly.

“We'll blast them out of the sky?” He said it almost like a question, like a little kid asking big sis for reassurance. Mason clenched his jaw against the shame—A1 last years weren't supposed to need comfort.

His sister smiled then, but it was the saddest one he ever saw. It made Mason feel cold all over, especially when she didn't immediately assure him they would win. They just kept running.

The brig was empty, like it usually was, because soldiers on a ship run by Captain Renner knew better than to break the rules. There was a small unoccupied desk for the jailer, and a long narrow aisle that had three cramped cells to the right and left. Susan jabbed a quick series of numbers into the keypad, and the first plastic door on the right slid into the ceiling. Mason started toward it, but Susan grabbed his arm and spun him around, face-to-face. She was only a few inches taller than him now that he was 5.5 feet.

“I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” she said. That wasn't like her. She'd usually let him worry for at least a little bit.

“Is this really bad?” Mason held his breath. “You can tell me.”

“Just listen. Stay here, and wait till someone gets you.” She put both hands on his shoulders and squeezed a little too hard. “You'll be safe here.”

“I don't want to be safe.” Though he was afraid he really
did
want to be safe, that he was glad to dodge his first combat situation. “Susan, what's happening?”

Mason felt the ship accelerating, a deep hum that traveled from the floor and up his legs. He felt himself leaning right and braced his arm against the wall.

Susan kissed his forehead and shoved him into the cell before the plastic wall slid back into place. She gave him one final look before running out the door—the way she'd looked at him six years ago. They had been on a shuttle, and Mason was getting dropped off for his first day at Academy I. Susan was going a little farther, to start her fourth year at Academy II. She had been sixteen, and she looked at Mason like she would never see him again. Mason hadn't thought much about it then; he was too excited for the Academy. But now it left him chilly and anxious. His palms were sweaty.

There were no benches in the cell, so Mason stood.

That changed a few seconds later, when an explosion rocked the Egypt and shut off all the lights.

 

Chapter Two

The backup lighting turned on a few seconds later, but it was dim, cold light. Mason staggered to his feet, prodding the fast-growing lump above his ear. A new alarm blared down the hallway and the Egypt tilted under his feet, pulling hard to the right. He was ready this time, catching himself with both hands.

Now that he was “safe,” Mason realized it wasn't what he wanted, which relieved him a little: who wants to find out they're a coward? Instead of safe, he felt trapped, and waiting for death would be worse than going out there to face it head-on. Alongside the other cadets, if he could. Adrenaline was pumping through him hotly, tamping down fear and replacing it with a feeling soldiers called
Things are happening!
So
this
was what his instructors had been talking about the entire time. After months of boredom and inaction, a sudden threat was almost welcome to a soldier. Almost.

Mason tapped the skin below his left ear to activate the tiny com unit implanted underneath. It was standard-issue and every member of the Earth Space Command was required to have one. He thought about Tom as he tapped it, and a channel opened to him. Tom knew computers better than most cadets ready to leave Academy II, better than most general crew, too, and Mason couldn't deny it. He was the last person Mason wanted to call, but the only one who could get him out.

A soft buzz in his ear meant the com was ringing on the other end; Mason bit his lip, wondering if Tom would pick up. Tom would come if only to scold him about the dangers of tampering with equipment. He was technically a year younger than Mason at twelve, but they were really born a few weeks apart in the same hospital. While Mason's parents had died in the First Attack, Tom's hadn't. His mom was captain of the Egypt
,
and his dad was a vice admiral at the space station Olympus.

Mason and Tom didn't really talk much if they didn't have to. Tom seemed to think he knew everything because his mom was captain. Mason disagreed. The problem was, the other cadets didn't.
I should've called Merrin,
Mason thought as the com kept buzzing. Merrin might've had trouble getting him out, but she'd be happy to see him, at least.

Mason had met Tom and the other cadets years before at Academy I, but most of them were in different units, so Mason didn't really know them, not well. Now that Mason was graduating from Academy I, he'd been selected to log his spacetime on the SS Egypt
,
along with seventeen other cadets from different years. Two weeks earlier, the Egypt had left the space station Olympus with eighteen cadets on board, for a routine patrol that would end with the cadets getting off for a new year at Academy I. Or, in the case of Mason, Merrin, Tom, Jeremy, and Stellan: Academy II. The big show, where training got real.

There was an incident ten days ago, when Tom lost a foot race because Mason turned on the magnetic flooring on Tom's side of the hallway. The cadets had been bored in the middle of the night, and Jeremy had mentioned how he was a good sprinter, and Tom had said something like, “I bet I'm faster.”

To which Jeremy replied, “I bet you're really not.”

During the race, Mason used a wall console to activate the magnets, not really knowing why he was doing it. The magnets were only activated for a split second, so it appeared like Tom fell on his own.
Humility in the face of glory.

Tom stood up and looked at his skinned palms, then pressed them against his uniform. “Who did that?”

Mason raised his hand. “I did.”

Tom nodded while frowning, like he was considering this information. Then he stalked forward and executed a perfect straight punch to Mason's chin. Tom had clearly been paying attention during hand-to-hand combat training. Mason took the hit because he knew everyone was watching, and then he swung his elbow into Tom's cheek.

Then Jeremy knocked their heads together, hard enough to make them stop. “You're gonna get
all
of us in trouble,” he said.

“Whatever,” Tom said. “Mason's only here because his parents died and they had nowhere to put him.”

A few cadets gasped. Mason felt something cold open inside his chest.

Tom took a breath, looking stunned.

“I didn't mean that,” he said. “Hey, I didn't mean that. I'm just mad.”

Mason nodded and fought hard to keep his eyes on Tom's face, not on the floor.

“Shake hands,” Jeremy commanded.

They did, firmly. Mason knew what it was like to say things you didn't mean, to just have them vomit out, and then feel that crushing ache when you realized you could never pull them back.

It was only two years ago when Susan was visiting him at Academy I and trying to offer some helpful advice that Mason said, “You're not Mom. Okay?” Susan's eyes had glazed shiny with tears, and Mason had apologized a thousand times after, but his words still stuck in his lungs when he remembered them.

Anyway, Tom hadn't acted so superior after their little brawl and handshake. Wasn't that the kind of progress the ESC was constantly striving for?

*   *   *

Tom finally picked up after nine buzzes and said, “Cadet Stark,” in a flat tone that seemed to convey all the annoyance anyone had ever felt toward Mason. Or anyone else in the galaxy.

“Tom, hi. I need you to come break me out of the brig. Please.” He became light on his feet as the Egypt began to dive, until the synthetic gravity compensated. If they were diving, did that mean they were trying to escape the Tremist? Why not just drop a cross gate and disappear? Then again, there was nothing to stop the Tremist from following them right through the gate, if they were already close. And clearly they were close.

“What are you doing in the
brig
?” Tom's voice crackled with impatience, like Mason had caught him in the middle of some huge project that required all of his attention.

“My sister put me here.”

“Then I think it's best for you to remain there until your sister or my mother comes to free you. I highly doubt they gave you com privileges.”

Typical Tom response. Mason wanted to punch the wall. Six days into their journey, Mason and a few others talked about raiding one of the kitchens because the cook had made actual cake that day, with real eggs and sugar. Tom had looked bored, then recited the codes they'd be violating from memory. No one got cake. Then, as if to prove he wasn't all about codes and rules, Tom went to get the cake himself. Anticipating this reversal, Mason got to the cake first. It earned him a few points with the other cadets. But Mason still couldn't tell if Tom was a stuck-up, icy cadet or someone who might be relaxed and capable of fun.

He should've known better than to ask for help from the captain's son.

“Please, Tom. What if we're boarded? The Tremist would kill me on the spot.” He said it to help convince Tom, but it was also probably true. Unless the Tremist thought a young cadet was a useful hostage, they'd turn Mason into a tasty snack. The thought of seeing one in the flesh gave Mason a chill that was a cross between excitement and pure, sick fear. He wondered what they looked like under their mirror-masks. It was rumored the ESC knew exactly what they looked like, but wouldn't share with anyone. It didn't seem fair to hide an enemy that, if the rumors were true, wanted to drink Mason's blood, or shapeshift into a werewolf, or whatever the current rumor was.