That was how Clo would end, then. Cut open, her blood feeding the twining vines beneath her. No marshland burial for her.
Discordia made an incision along Clo’s upper thigh, and Clo hissed in a breath. One more stab of pain on top of so much more.
Discordia sliced her own wrist and pressed their wounds together.
“Whit’re ye doin’?” Clo asked, consciousness beginning to blur around the edges. She felt weak, floating. She’d lost a lot of blood.
“The nanites will stay localized for a few minutes.” Discordia took off her belt, tying it tightly above the shallow gash. “They’ll help.”
“Oh, no,” Clo said as her mind worked through Discordia’s plan. “No, no.” A futile wriggle. She was stuck.
Discordia leaned close again. “Do you want to die here, in the dirt, your bones left for the bugs? Do you want this to be your last day in the universe?” She didn’t blink. Clo didn’t see Discordia in that gaze.
“No,” Clo whispered again, the word catching on a sob.
“All right. Bite down on this.” Eris shoved her scarf into Clo’s mouth. “For what it’s worth, I befriended you for real. And I have chosen this side. I’m not a spy. I don’t care whether or not you believe me.”
Eris brought the knife down, her strength enough to break through the bone.
Clo screamed through the gag, the pain taking over every cell in her body. She spit out the gag, panting. She wanted to tear off her own skin to make the pain stop.
“If I ever see ye ’gain, I’ll drain ye t’ the dregs,” Clo managed with the last of her breath before all went dark as the void.
5.
CLO
Present day
At least they got to use Clo’s favorite ship.
It was one of their smallest ones, called Asteria. Class C. Repurposed from the Empire, like all of their ships. Agile and moved like a dream, with an engine that hummed. The cloaking tech was so good, it could sneak up on almost any craft. Over the past few years, Clo had taken it apart and put it back together more times than she could count. She knew this hunk of metal better than anyone, even the myriad pilots that took it on missions.
Asteria had sentimental value. This ship had saved her life.
Clo set her hand on the side, patting it like a friend. She opened the hatch for Eris. “After you, my . . .” She gave a pause. “Former potential sovereign.”
“Thank you.” Eris looked the ship up and down. “This craft barely looks like it could get off the ground.” She swiped a finger across the dash, wrinkling her nose at the resulting dirt. “Seven devils, how long has this been sitting here? Longer than I’ve been alive?”
Clo glared at Eris and patted the ship’s dash. “Shh. She doesn’t mean it, sweetheart,” she whispered to her craft. To Eris, she said, “You still carry around that ancient junk blaster with the fancy etchings? This ship is like that to me. Sentimental. Say one more bad word about it and I’ll deck you.”
Eris didn’t even look up from the dash. “I was giving you two hours for your first show of insubordination, and you displayed it in fifteen minutes. Congratulations.”
“I agreed to the mission. Kyla made you leader, but that dinnae mean you’re my leader.”
“Look,” Eris sighed. “I’m just as unhappy about this as you are. But we’re stuck together and I need to know you’re going to follow my orders and not shoot me in the back at the first opportunity.”
“Your orders? Ohh, but it’s so tempting.” At Eris’s glare, Clo rolled her eyes. “Fine. No back-shooting. No front-shooting. No shooting, except in emergencies.”
Clo thought Eris might argue with her, but the other woman only nodded once. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
“Good. ’Cause that’s the best you’re gonna get from me.” She stood. “I’ll check over the engine. The sooner we’re out, the sooner we’re back, the sooner we can go our separate ways and I’ll stop thinking about shooting you.”
“Fair enough. Is your Pathos on?” Eris asked.
“Of course.”
They took a moment to sync their devices by turning back to back and gently touching their heads together. Clo stiffened at the contact with the other woman. She hated even being near a member of the Imperial family after everything they’d done—not just to Clo but to others throughout the galaxy. Eris might not have been personally responsible for the deaths of people Clo cared about, but she’d hurt so many others.
There was a reason Discordia had been known as the Servant of Death.
The microchips embedded within their brains’ cerebrums connected the software with a soft <beep>.
Clo jerked away. Eris didn’t seem bothered, but then, she was as emotionless as a statue.
<Testing,> Eris said in Clo’s mind.
“This is such a bad idea,” Clo said out loud with a grimace. “Just hearing your voice in my head makes me want to flip a table.”
“I don’t want to be killed because you’re too stubborn to communicate. Now test the damn thing.”
<I hate you.>
“Loud and clear.” <And I don’t like you, either.>
Clo narrowed her eyes.
Eris shook her head and completed an inventory of supplies. This mission would only last one week. Seven days. Clo could last that long. She’d have to.
Less than an hour later, Asteria fired up and blasted into the sky toward Myndalia.
* * *
—
Home hadn’t changed at all.
Myndalia rose in the distance, a small dot growing larger as Clo navigated through the stars. It’d taken fourteen hours and one hyperjump from Nova to reach the planet. Clo and Eris did their best to avert conflict by avoiding each other. They’d had one brief sleep on opposite sides of the ship, respective doors bolted tight. Clo had slept in the pilot’s seat and had a crick in her neck.
“I never thought I’d see this silthole again,” Clo muttered as she maneuvered Asteria into the asteroid belt near the planet.
Though the Novantae had employed hackers to hide their ships from enemy detection, the thick layer of rock and debris would help protect against scavengers looking for parts to steal. It was easier to take the smaller pod to the transport hub. It was a military issued mini-craft with forged permissions the Novantae hackers had put into Tholosian detection systems for situations exactly like this.