Virtual Shadows: A Jane Colt Novel, #3

By Mary Fan

Life on the galaxy’s lawless Fringe isn’t easy. Nevertheless, Jane doesn’t regret sacrificing her comfortable life to protect the young man she loves. But the very place she took him for safety is slowly killing him, and her world is shaken again when her brother, Devin, reenters her life.

Determined to discover the identity of those behind a vicious bombing near his agency’s secret base, Devin defies his superiors and ventures into the dark corners of the universe. When he learns that the attackers have their crosshairs on the mysterious woman who saved his life, the mission becomes personal.

Unable to remain in hiding and unwilling to stand by while danger looms, Jane joins her brother on his quest and battles a chilling adversary hell-bent on destroying her homeworld. Entangled in a web of interstellar intrigue, virtual deception, and murderous agendas, she races to find answers—before the enemy wreaks devastation upon all she once knew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
• Release date: Nov 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386719830

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Into This Raging Storm

This had better work—I don’t feel like dying today. Jane angled her tiny starship toward the Arapaima transport, which hovered against the scintillating expanse of space. Her vehicle jolted, sending a cascade of dark locks tumbling into her face.

She tossed her head, annoyed. Of all the ships in the spaceport, I had to pick the worst. She didn’t even recall what the particular model she’d chosen was called—a Barb or a Minnow or something. But at least the piece of crap wouldn’t be missed. Stealing from Tenebrarum—the order of mercenaries that ran the planet she’d been hiding on for the past five months—had not been the smartest thing to do. Technically, she’d only borrowed the junker, and she hoped to get it back before anyone noticed it was gone. And since she’d obtained it by convincing a spaceport admin—who also happened to be her fiancé—to mess with some docwork and release the ship for a test run, the only real infraction was a clerical mix-up.

However, she wasn’t betting on the Tenebrarum seeing things that way. But it was all for the sake of someone who had once been one of them. Mek looked like a harmless old curmudgeon with his white hair and diminishing frame, but he’d spent his prime years carrying out hits for anyone who would pay—as long as the target deserved killing. While many of the Tenebrarum had grown lax about their code, which stated that they must never target the innocent, Jane trusted that Mek had upheld it.

Spotting a docking hatch on the Arapaima, she veered the Barb—or Minnow, or whatever—toward it. The words White Venom glowed in blue lights across the transport’s copper hull. If it weren’t for them, the ship would have been a complete shadow, since there was no star nearby to illuminate it. Asylum, the Tenebrarum world, was a rogue planet, barreling through space, unanchored by a sun’s gravitational pull. That meant it was never in the same place twice. Only the Tenebrarum were privy to its location. Members were issued trackers upon initiation and sworn to guard the devices with their lives. Each was keyed to its owner’s life signs, so should that person die, the machine would self-destruct, ensuring the planet’s secrecy.

While Mek had retired years ago, he’d still had his tracker—until some asshole had stolen it, which meant his negligence had put the entire order in danger. And the Tenebrarum were not the forgiving sort.

Surest thing to do is trigger the self-destruct, Mek had said to Jane earlier that day. Though he’d spoken in his usual carefree manner, she’d seen the fear in his crinkled brown eyes. It’s up to the Council, but I wouldn’t blame ’em if that’s what they decided.

How can you say that? Jane had asked.

You know what would happen if that tracker got out? Half the galaxy would descend on this place. That could destroy us. All because I wasn’t paying attention. Disgust clung to Mek’s words. Can’t believe he got me with the old crash-and-grab!

You know who took it?

Yeah, White Venom’s crony—Balkin, I think his name was. Thought it was fishy that he walked into me, but I didn’t realize something was missing until just now. Damn head of mine’s too slow. Maybe it’s time to put me out to pasture.

Jane hated such fatalistic talk, but despite her protests, Mek had insisted he was too old to go after Balkin. Fine, she’d said. I’ll do it.

Oh, no you don’t, girlie. Mek had given her a dry smile. Won’t risk all of Asylum for my useless hide either. Gonna tell the Council, and let them take care of it.

But they’ll kill you!

Eh, not like they’re cutting short my young life or anything.

Despite his casual words, Jane had seen the sorrow in his expression. He’d told her once that all he wanted was to live out his autumn years in peace before drifting into winter’s eternal sleep. She didn’t see any reason he shouldn’t get to do so. Sure, Mek was no angel. Perhaps the cosmic scales would dictate that he pay for all the lives he’d taken in his youth with an untimely death of his own. But she didn’t care. Justice was an illusion anyway.

To Jane, Mek was the guy who’d taken her under his wing when she’d had nothing, given her a job for which she was shamefully overpaid, and helped her settle into her new life. She considered him a friend, and she wasn’t about to let him give up so easily.

She’d made it clear to him that she was going after Balkin and getting the tracker back, no matter what Mek said. Realizing she was dead serious, he’d made her a deal: she had until the thief left Tenebrarum space. As long as Balkin was on Asylum or in its orbit, he couldn’t do anything with the tracker. But he was scheduled to leave with his Tenebrarum employer that very day, and the moment Gate I—an enormous Sei tunneler that followed Asylum—opened the portal to its counterpart, which wandered the edges of known space, Mek would report the theft. That way, White Venom could stop her traitorous underling before he sold out the entire order.

What kind of narcissist names a ship after herself? Jane adjusted her trajectory. The plan was to latch onto the larger ship, sneak on board, and pickpocket the pickpocket.

You know the old saying, she’d said to Riley before heading to the spaceport. Takes a thief to catch a thief.

Duuuude, you’re a full-blown criminal now, aren’t you? Riley’s black eyes had been round with disbelief. You realize what a terrible idea this is, right?

I excel at terrible ideas. Are you gonna help me?

Uh… Duh? Who’d entertain me if you got crunched? Gimme a few hours to hack that Arapaima.

Thanks, Riley. Jane smiled. As usual, you’re a genius.

I’ve graduated from genius. I’m a freakin’ wizard!

He’d used his particular brand of magic to access the White Venom’s central computer. Thanks to him, she’d been able to approach the Arapaima without being spotted.

Jane grabbed her slate, onto which Riley had uploaded the White Venom’s blueprints. After unfolding it and snapping it flat, she glanced at the timer along the bottom of the glowing screen. Only one hour remained before Gate I opened its tunnel. Plenty of time…

The forced self-reassurance did nothing to loosen the knot in her stomach. The transport was huge, and Balkin could be anywhere. Once she found him, she’d have to wait until he was alone before making her move. While Balkin wasn’t a member of Tenebrarum, he’d trained with them for years, according to Mek. It was bad enough that she’d be going up against an experienced fighter when, under most circumstances, her most effective weapons were her pretty dark eyes and sweet-talking talents. The last thing she needed was for him to have help.

If only I were as good with a gun as I am at playing the damsel. She rested one hand on the grip of the gun strapped to belt. The touch of cool metal was both frightening and reassuring at the same time. The weapon was set to stun, and she hoped she’d never have to change that. One death on her hands was more than enough. Though months had passed since she’d shot Marcus Streger, his lifeless eyes still haunted her memories. She refused to acknowledge any remorse for killing the bastard who’d murdered her father and tortured her fiancé, not to mention holding her hostage to coerce her brother into betraying their homeworld. But a life was still a life.

Yo, Janie! Riley’s voice from her slate brought her back to the present.

Yeah? Jane glanced at Riley’s pale face on the screen. At twenty-one, he was only two years younger than her, but for some reason, she’d always thought of him as a kid—probably because of his squirrelly mannerisms, small build, and excitable nature.

I’ve disabled the security on that hatch. Also blinded the cams in the corridor you’ll be entering. You’re good to go.

Won’t White Venom’s people be suspicious if their cams aren’t working?

Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Riley threw her a look of indignation. I didn’t just switch ’em off! Set them to show empty hallways, duh.

A message across the viewscreen stated that the White Venom’s hatch was within range of the ship’s docking tunnel. Jane put her slate down and brought her vehicle to a halt. It stopped so abruptly she nearly banged her face into the controls. The slate slid off her lap and landed with a clatter. Ugh, I hate this junker.

Yo, Janie? Still there? Riley’s voice floated up from the floor.

She scooped up her slate. "Sorry about that. Just reached the White Venom."

Got your earpiece?

Jane ran her finger behind her ear to make sure the minuscule machine she’d clipped there earlier hadn’t fallen. Yup.

Keep your slate with you. ’S long as I know where you are, I can blind any cams in your area. You’ll have a bubble of invisibility.

Thanks.

And… uh… please don’t die. Riley ran a nervous hand through his short black hair. Devin’ll be mad enough that I helped you instead of stopping you.

Jane shook her head at the mention of her big brother. Though she hadn’t spoken to him in months—he’d been confined to some top-secret government base since the whole Streger debacle—his overprotective reach still followed her. Riley had always been eager to please Devin, whom he’d hero-worshipped for years. You and me both, pal.

I’ll be all right. She ended the transmission then pressed the controls to extend a tunnel from her vehicle to the White Venom.

After she’d folded the slate and stuck it in her pocket, she walked toward the exit, visualizing her target. Mek’s description made Balkin sound easy enough to identify: brown dreadlocks, mean, sharp-boned face, chalky complexion with a long scar down his neck. She reminded herself not to dismiss him as a dumb thug, even though he probably looked like one. He could likely snap her neck before she even raised her gun. Her one advantage was that he hopefully wasn’t expecting her—or anyone, for that matter. Mek’s theory was that Balkin stole from him because an old barkeep seemed like an easy target. The best-case scenario was that he’d leave the tracker unattended so she could swipe it without him knowing she’d been there.

She reached toward the lever to open the door then froze. What the hell was she thinking? She was in way over her head. But if she failed, Mek would die, and she couldn’t let that happen.

Drawing a breath, Jane opened the door and marched through the tunnel. The White Venom’s hatch opened as she approached. She sensed Riley’s presence even though he was light years away. He was in the ship’s computer, its nervous system, its every wall and weapon. He practically was the ship, possessing its every facet. That was why he and other hackers called themselves demons.

The corridor was empty. Illuminated by white lights, it stretched in plain, bluish hues before her. She walked forward, recalling the blueprint she’d studied. She’d docked on the lowest level, which housed the engine room and other utility areas. It was also the level where she was least likely to run into anyone. The level above contained the crew quarters, including Balkin’s room. Seems like as good a place to start as any.

Recalling where the elevator was, she turned at the next intersection. Doors stood along the walls, blurring into each other as she whisked by them.

Riley’s urgent voice whispered into her earpiece. You’ve got company!

Jane stopped in her tracks. A high-pitched ding rang through the air, followed by the hiss of doors opening. She spun back, heart racing. The approaching footsteps and nearing voices—two women debating engine specs—told her she wouldn’t make it back to her ship before they rounded the corner and saw her.

She pulled out her gun, hoping she could stun them both before they had a chance to return fire.

Don’t! Riley exclaimed. One of the doors opened, revealing a laundry room. In there! Jane dashed through the rectangular entryway, and the door shut behind her.

What was that? The voice belonged to a man, which meant there was a third person.

Jane’s pulse pounded, and she aimed her gun at the door.

Engine always bangs around when it’s warming up, a woman replied. Her voice was lower than those of the other two—a fourth person.

The conversation segued into a discussion of the White Venom’s engines and weapons systems, and Jane guessed that those four were part of the Arapaima’s mechanical crew. Her whole body felt jittery with impatience. Move along already!

Time was slipping away, but from the proximity of the voices, Jane was sure the crewmembers were right outside. She wished she could jump out and stun them all, but considering how terrible her aim was, that would have been a spectacularly bad idea, especially since every member of a merc ship’s crew would be a trained fighter, even the mechanics. She wasn’t sure whether she was more irritated at the crewmembers for lingering or at herself for being unable to do anything about them.

If only I had Devin’s skills. As far as she knew, her brother never missed a shot when he meant it. He also had the useful ability to remain calm, whereas Jane’s head had the annoying tendency to spiral into panic mode. Of course, he was an operative for ISARK—the Intelligence and Security Agency of the Republic of Kydera. Though they’d only recently brought him on board, he’d spent years honing his skills, fearful that someday, the dangerous criminals he’d tangled with in his past would come back to haunt him.

Jane, on the other hand, had known only the life of a Kyderan heiress for the first twenty-two years of her life. She hadn’t realized just how cushy things had been for her until she’d been forced to leave it all behind. Until about a year ago, when the powerful AI, Pandora, had targeted the people she loved, the biggest dilemma she’d faced had been whether to follow the corporate path her father wanted or pursue her passion for music. She’d never imagined she’d someday have to decide whether or not to sacrifice everything she knew. But five months earlier, that choice had lain before her, and she’d never regretted firing on the Kyderan warship that had been pulling her vessel toward it, a deed that earned her the label enemy of the state. She’d only meant to destroy the tractor beam, and no one had been hurt, but that made no difference to the so-called justice system.

If she hadn’t acted, she would have lost the one she loved forever. The Republic of Kydera didn’t care that Adam had the most beautiful soul she’d ever encountered. All they saw was a machine. Learning that Adam was an artificial intelligence, made of synthetic materials rather than flesh and blood, had barely fazed Jane, but to ISARK, his physical nature was all that mattered. If they ever found him, they’d lock him in a lab and tear him apart. So she’d taken him someplace even they couldn’t reach.

Jane smiled wryly. Her list of heroic-type deeds was pretty impressive for a musician. She’d never considered herself the adventurous sort, but danger had a way of ensnaring the people she cared about. Devin, Adam—even Riley. And now Mek. Failing to act went against every fiber of her being. Perhaps her brother wasn’t the only Colt with a savior complex.

A hoarse guffaw from one of the crewmembers outside pulled her attention back to the immediate situation. Jane’s blood churned with agitation. Wondering how much time she had left, she pulled out her slate.

Fifty minutes. It would take her at least fifteen to fly back to Asylum and reach Mek’s bar. And she still had no idea where the thief was keeping the tracker.

The four voices broke out in laughter. Damn sons-of-bitches are joking around when Mek’s life is on the line. Jane stuffed her slate back into her pocket and held up her gun. I don’t have time for this bullshit.

She punched the door’s controls. A woman’s startled face greeted her the moment she stepped out. Jane fired, hitting the woman in the chest. The woman fell. A mad kind of glee filled Jane’s head at her quick success, and she turned to the others.

What the fuck? The man grabbed his own gun. Jane fired at him before he could raise it. She missed, but the shot forced him to duck.

A sudden barrage of lasers burst from one of the internal defense guns, piercing the walls. Jane dropped instinctively as one of the women fired. The shot flew over her head, and the thrill of action rushed through her. She sprang up. A second internal defense gun spewed blasts, and the woman spun to face them.

Shoot them! Riley exclaimed through the earpiece.

Realizing that the gunfire was a distraction, Jane pulled the trigger. One—the man—she got right away. A second crewmember shot back. Jane jumped to the side. Heat flared through her arm. The woman’s weapon flew from her grip, blasted by one of the internal defenses. Jane fired again, and the woman crumpled.

The last woman appeared too busy dodging the ship’s guns to worry about anything else. Jane took advantage of her distraction to get close enough that even she couldn’t miss. A stun blast to the back sent the woman to the ground.

The blasting stopped, and sudden silence billowed through the corridor. Jane smirked at the sight of the four unconscious crewmembers. Take that, idiots! She listened in case someone had heard the ruckus but detected no sound—until Riley yelled through her earpiece.

You dumbass! What the hell were you thinking?

I really wasn’t. Jane stuck her gun back into its holster and grabbed her slate. If no one had heard all that blasting, she was okay to talk. Thanks for the help. Is anyone around?

No, but that doesn’t mean you can go around shooting people! On the screen, his black eyebrows were low with irritation. "Do you realize what you made me do? I had to put every cam from here to the second level on mute so no one would hear that chaos and take over the internal defenses! In about two seconds!"

He was right, of course, and Jane didn’t have a good defense. As the rush faded, it struck her how stupidly she’d acted.

She gave him a grateful smile. You’re a wizard, Riley.

Damn right I am. Riley huffed. Anyhow, you’re clear for this level, but the one above you is crawlin’ with people, so… uh… no elevators.

How am I supposed to get there then?

Utility conduits, duh.

A quick whoosh-thud sounded from behind Jane, and she whirled. A square panel near the floor had opened, revealing a duct about three feet high. She sighed. I hate conduits. That’ll lead to Balkin’s room?

Yup. I’ll talk you through how to get there. Balkin’s currently following White Venom around the command center.

If the tracker’s not in his room, I could wait there for him to return. Jane bit her lip, disliking the idea but seeing little choice. Trying to steal from Balkin himself with a Tenebrarum merc nearby would be suicidal.

As she put the slate away, a sharp pain flared through her upper arm. A blast had torn the sleeve of her blue shirt and grazed her skin, leaving a bleeding gash surrounded by a painful burn. Won’t do me any good to leave a blood trail. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything she could use as a bandage, and going back to the ship would waste too much time. She rolled up the sleeve on her injured arm until the folded cloth surrounded the wound. Good thing I wore long sleeves.

The gash stung with each movement, and she did her best to ignore it. She stepped over one of the crewmembers, heading toward the conduit. Such ducts were intended for squat repair bots, not five-foot-six humans. Upon entering, Jane saw that Riley had turned on the strips of dim green lights along the edges of the metal walls.

The panel slid shut behind her. Riley gave her a few directions over the earpiece. Cool air drifted past her as she crawled forward. Reaching a ladder, she climbed up. Her rolled-up sleeve grated against her injury, causing bolts of pain to shoot through her arm. She clenched her teeth. Could’ve been a lot worse.

When she reached the next level, she found several wide grates in the conduit’s floor. Light from below spilled through them. Which one leads to Balkin’s room?

She started forward, expecting Riley to tell her.

A panicked exclamation burst through the earpiece instead. "Shit! How the hell did… Man, this is bad!"

Jane froze. She wanted to ask, What is it? But with several not-so-soundproof grates lying ahead, a single word could spell her doom.

Hang on… Nervousness colored Riley’s words.

Jane’s muscles tightened as she waited.

Uh… Janie? Riley’s voice held a slight tremor. "Bad news… I… uh… got kicked out of the White Venom’s computer."

Fear lanced through Jane’s chest, and a sheen of cold sweat formed on her brow. Shit.

It’s not all bad, though, he added quickly. They haven’t found out what I did to their security yet, so the corridor you just left is still blind. But White Venom’s cyber people realized there was a demon messin’ with their system and locked it down. I’m trying to find a way back in, but… uh… no luck so far.

Jane bit her lip. Guess I’m on my own now.

I’d tell you to get out, but since you’re too much of a dumbass to listen, here’s what I can give you. Riley sounded both annoyed and anxious. Last I saw, Balkin was still on the bridge. His room is listed as number three-seventeen. Right now you’re sitting on top of three-oh-one. So… Well, you can count. Crew quarters don’t have security cams, so you’ll be good if you stay out of the hallways. He paused. "Please, please don’t die."

Not planning on it. Jane crawled to the first grate. Peering down, she saw a bed and dresser, which confirmed that she was above the residential area. She continued.

Two… Three… Four…

How would she open the grate once she reached Balkin’s room? She paused briefly over the next one, examining its edges. No bolts to unscrew. Her only choice was to blast the metal, which wouldn’t be too big a problem, since the grates looked thin, but the noise would attract attention. She crawled on, hoping to come up with a better idea.

Nine… Ten… Eleven…

It occurred to her that if the Arapaima’s walls were thick enough to muffle the shooting earlier, they would dampen her efforts to blast the grate—at least from those on other levels. Since the crew was prepping the ship to leave, they wouldn’t be lounging around their bedchambers. All the rooms she’d passed so far had been empty.

Fifteen… Sixteen… Seventeen!

She stopped. Balkin’s room looked the same as everyone else’s—rectangular with plain, taupe walls. Only a bed and a dresser furnished the place. Not many places to hide a tracker.

She pulled out her gun. A spike of unease shot through her. She was betting her life on a hunch. If she was wrong—if the walls weren’t soundproof—the crew would race in and take her down. Or more likely, they’d let the internal defenses take care of her. She felt her pounding pulse under the tight, rolled-up cloth covering her wound.

What if the tracker wasn’t in Balkin’s room? Riley couldn’t help her anymore. If she stepped into the hallway to search for Balkin, the security team would spot her and shoot her on sight. As much as she cared about Mek, was she really willing to die for him?

I’m not gonna die, for crying out loud. She shook her head, trying to fling the thoughts away. And I’ve come too far to give up now.

Before the fear could invade her head again, she took her weapon off stun, aimed at the vent, and pulled the trigger. The air quivered with the noise of blasts flying and metal breaking. Her chest tightened, but her finger kept moving until the grate dropped into the room below. It landed with a clang.

Jane waited, pointing her gun at the hole she’d created. She half-expected a security team to burst in. At least she was in a defensible position at the moment.

Nothing.

Jane watched the door, breathing deeply. A minute ticked by. If someone had heard her, they surely would have entered already. The lack of response could only mean the crew was oblivious to her actions. She stuffed her gun into its holster, grabbed the edge of the hole, and swung down. The ceiling was relatively low, and so the jump wasn’t too far. She landed beside the broken grate then strode to the dresser.

Rifling through Balkin’s stuff turned up only clothing and weapons. No tracker. Cursing, she shoved the last drawer shut and scanned the room. Was there anyplace else he could have hidden it?

A movement caught her eye: The door was opening.

Shit! Jane dove behind the dresser, pressing herself into the corner between it and the wall—a terrible hiding place but better than standing in the open.

Footsteps approached. The door slammed shut. Whoever entered was alone; it had to be Balkin.

Jane slipped her gun out of its holster and switched it to stun, aiming to hit him before he figured out she was there. Something clanged against the ground. She realized suddenly that the grate was still sitting in the middle of the floor. Balkin had probably kicked it—which meant he knew something was wrong. That meant he’d grab a weapon. She had to confront him before he could.

She stepped out. A wiry man with brown dreadlocks whirled toward her. That’s Balkin, all right. She fired, but he dodged. The next thing she knew, he’d crossed the distance between them. Before she could pull the trigger again, his hand grabbed hers, peeling her fingers off the weapon. She tried to wrench it away, but somehow, the gun wound up in his grasp. She found herself staring down the barrel in shock.

The shot didn’t come, though. Instead, Balkin’s eyes went wide. The gun slipped from his fingers, and he collapsed onto his knees. Surprised as she was, Jane’s attention flew to the weapon. She snatched it up as the man fell forward, eyes shut.

What the hell? She noticed a small dart protruding from the base of his skull. Someone had shot him—but who?

Catching a glimpse of light from the corner of her eye, she spun toward the bed. A section of the wall beside it shimmered like water. Then it vanished, revealing a round hole leading to the adjacent room.

Standing behind it was a figure she recognized: Flame Dancer, one of the mercs who frequented Mek’s bar. The two silver armbands adorning her otherwise plain black outfit identified her. They were her signatures—what she wore when she wanted people to know who she was. The rest of her appearance was drastically different from the last time Jane had seen her. Cropped blue hair instead of a chestnut bob, orange eyes instead of green. Flame Dancer had even changed her complexion from glowing gold to something almost as pale as Jane’s own skin.

If possible, Flame Dancer’s face was even more striking with her new coloring: razor-sharp cheekbones, pointed chin, wide-set eyes that appeared tilted, since she’d ringed them with flared eyeliner. She reminded Jane of the scary-beautiful fashion models she’d seen on Kydera Major.

Jane wasn’t sure whether to be afraid. Flame Dancer was reputed to be among Tenebrarum’s deadliest. She was also the one who’d run into an exploding starship to save Devin’s life, though she’d never admitted to it. Jane had learned of the rescue through Mek, who’d managed to wheedle the story out of the merc.

Flame Dancer stepped through the hole. Gotta hand it to you, kid. You don’t scare easily. She glanced at the gun. You can put that away. Balkin’s not waking up any time soon.

Jane complied, still staring in disbelief. What… How…?

I used a holoprojector to make that fake wall. The merc crouched beside the unconscious Balkin. Boarded the ship before it took off from Asylum and bided my time. I knew Balkin had to come here to stash the tracker before White Venom conducted her crew inspections.

Jane realized that the room Flame Dancer emerged from was one she’d crawled over. But she hadn’t seen anyone inside. She pointed that out, and Flame Dancer smirked.

I heard you, she said. If I hadn’t recognized you, you’d probably be dead.

Where were you hiding?

The other just arched her slim eyebrows and turned her eyes back to Balkin. She patted his jacket, feeling for something.

Jane watched. Why’re you here?

You’re not the only one who considers Mek a friend. Flame Dancer reached into Balkin’s pocket and removed a small, rectangular device etched with the Tenebrarum crest—three curved blades forming a triangle. Jane recognized it as the tracker Mek had described, but something must have been off, because Flame Dancer frowned.

A holographic message materialized over the flat device. Flame Dancer’s eyes widened; it must have startled her as much as it did Jane. The words, written in large, block letters, spelled an ominous message: I know what you fear. Say good-bye to Anouk. Beneath it shone two red lightning bolts, crossed to form an X.

The surprise in Flame Dancer’s eyes turned into something Jane had never expected to see in the merc: fear. The message dissolved. Flame Dancer’s gaze snapped toward Jane. What kind of ship did you come in?

What’s wrong?

"Your ship."

A Barb, I think? Or a Minnow. One of the short-range junkers.

No lightspeed then?

Jane shook her head.

Flame Dancer cursed. She shoved the device into a pouch on her belt then rifled through Balkin’s pockets again. A moment later, she pulled out a device that appeared identical to the previous one. First one’s fake. She tossed the tracker to Jane. Take that to Mek.

Jane put the tracker into her pocket. What about Balkin?

I’ll handle it. You get out of here. Flame Dancer stood, making Jane feel short in comparison. The merc looked almost as tall as Devin’s six-foot-two frame.

Definitely could’ve been a fashion model. Jane wished she could borrow a few of those inches as she regarded the hole in the ceiling. She jumped. It took her four tries to grab the edge. After some effort, she managed to pull herself back into the conduit. Her gaze fell on the room below, and she glimpsed Flame Dancer leaving through the hole in the wall.

Jane stared after her, unable to take her mind off the strange threat that had appeared out of the fake tracker. She wondered whether the theft had been some kind of set-up to send Flame Dancer that message—and what could have spooked her so badly.

CHAPTER TWO

Artificial

Adam stepped out of the spaceport’s wide doorway, wishing he could stay until Jane returned. He wanted to make sure she got the borrowed Goby back into the hangar without trouble. Though he’d found excuses to stay for an extra two hours after his shift ended, the other admin had grown suspicious, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to uncover the docwork he’d modified. So he’d left before anyone could question him, since, as Jane often pointed out, he was the worst liar in the galaxy.

His body felt ready to collapse from exhaustion, and every step weighed heavily as he crossed the elevated walkway lined with yellow lights. Sounds of whirring robots wafted through the cool, dry air from the loading area. Buzzing above them, the chatter of human voices melded into a wordless blend of pitches. The contrast between the living and mechanical noises seemed so stark, he wondered how many would believe the seamlessness with which the two natures could fuse into one. If the people below discovered that he resembled them on the outside, but their mechanical counterparts within, would they still see him as a person?

The question had haunted every breath he’d drawn since an errant laser blast about a year ago had revealed the machinery within him. Not that he needed to breathe. Adam ran his finger down the metal, crescent-shaped mask running from his forehead to halfway down his cheek. His synthetic yet realistic skin concealed his true nature from the world except in that one spot, where Marcus Streger had ripped it away. The other wounds Marcus had inflicted—some as part of his effort to study Adam, some out of spite—had healed in the past few months, but the most visible one remained. Adam didn’t understand why. In fact, he didn’t understand anything about how his artificial body worked, other than that he didn’t need to eat or drink, but he did require sleep. No matter what Pandora had built him out of, though, he was alive. He’d accepted that, and he refused to doubt the life granted to him by the Absolute any longer.

Whatever the rest of the universe believed, the people he cared about had chosen to see him for who he was, rather than what. Riley, the friend who’d always come to his aid, no matter how great the challenge. Devin, the ally who’d nearly given up his own life for Adam’s sake. And of course, Jane, the light of his life. To Adam, as long as she was near, the Rogue Planet had a sun.

But ISARK had ruled his very existence a crime, and for that, both he and Jane had been effectively banished from their homeworld.

Adam glanced up, searching the sky for any sign of Jane’s ship. The dome containing Asylum’s artificial atmosphere stood in the way, reflecting the lights from below and obscuring the eternal night. His gaze traced the dome’s curve to the edge, beyond which lay the tunnel connecting the landing pad outside to the hangar. A lone vehicle sat on the white pavement: a Pike transport, which was far too large to be mistaken for Jane’s tiny Goby.

I’m sure she’s all right. Adam would have gone with her, but she’d insisted that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’d also pointed out that he’d be little help if a fight broke out. A lifetime spent learning the peaceful tenets of the Via religion hadn’t exactly taught Adam any combat skills. Or rather, the lifetime he remembered. Most of it consisted of false memories programmed by Pandora to shape his personality. But he chose to believe that they had happened and that he was a person, real and whole, despite what lay beneath his mask.

He reached the end of the walkway, feeling as if he’d traversed all of Asylum. A cloud filled his head, dulling his perception. But he had no reason to be so tired; he’d spent the entire day sitting behind a desk. The previous day had been no different, neither had the day before that, nor any day since he’d been hired for the spaceport job shortly after his arrival on the Rogue Planet. Yet waking up grew harder every morning, and he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been exhausted.

Can’t believe they let a damn cyborg work the computers. A man’s gruff voice cut through the noises from below. Who does he think he’s fooling with that mask?

Adam froze. Of those who worked at the spaceport, he was the only one who wore a mask. He glanced down at the loading area. Three men glared up at him, each looking as if he’d once been an enforcer for a crime boss: large, hulking, and instantly terrifying. From the similarities in their clothing—all wore sleeveless vests that displayed their powerful arms—he guessed that they’d come from the same homeworld.

Adam’s mind flashed back to the moment on Yim Radel about a year before when a square-faced man had shot him through the chest after noticing the machinery beneath his first wound. Adam would have died if a cryptic genius called the Seer hadn’t helped him leave his physical body and then return through a new one identical to the original. But the next time he was attacked, he wouldn’t be able to escape to cyberspace again. Marcus had ripped out the mechanism that allowed him to do so.

The terror of the Yim Radel memory flooded him. Adam rushed to leave. He didn’t want to make assumptions