Markus stood at the torn edge of the hull breech staring out at the chasm of open space. The 1st Ring had only a few broken sections of its massive structure remaining, and the 2nd Ring a mile long gash ripped through the hull. The scope of the accident was only now sinking in; of the sixty-thousand people that had lived on the two rings, only twenty-five hundred remained. He turned his head away from the shattered remnants of his world to illuminate the figure of Maera in the darkness with his helmet light, and as always, even among the rubble of destruction, she took his breath away. Maera was not only beautiful, but also a genius with re-molding liquid metal, and she had done so with her Rositite armor. Maera’s Rositite Raven-head armor was the very definition of scandalous, highlighting every perfect curve of her body. He felt a slap on his arm and turned his head to Falor, his best friend since they were in the nursery together. Falor wore the Hetenitte armor with its Falcon-head helmet, while Markus’ wore the armor of the Holentites with the Hawk-head helmet, though his armor had been altered by Maera to give him an enhanced war-like appearance. “You do know I can see where your helmet light is pointed, right?” asked Falor. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t gawk at my sister like a love-sick bluebird, at least not in front of me.” Markus grinned and mimicked a bluebird chirping. “I know how we’re getting across,” said Maera leaning out over the edge of the hull breach. Falor rolled his eyes in irritation, it was obviously a pose meant for Markus. “Look down here, the main deck and hull were ripped away, but the maintenance tunnel is intact, I think we might be able to repair the ring.” Markus walked to her side–there was just enough residual rotational momentum left on the ring to provide light gravity. “Even if we magically gained the skills for such a repair, we only have 43 days of fuel left before the oxygen generators start shutting down in the pods.” Maera held her hand out to Markus so she could lean out further and inspect the tunnel and supporting frame below the ragged hole in the hull. “We’ll need ten years to train everyone up, and then another twenty to fifty years to repair the ring.” Falor waved a hand at the dust and dirt floating in the air. “It’s going to be a mess in here if we get the ring rotating at proper speed again,” Maera pulled herself back from the edge. “The dirt floating around is from the farms, we probably lost 80% of our farming soil. We could do hydroponic gardening, but that’s labor intensive, and kids don’t have a very long attention span for that sort of work.” “Yeah, I read hydroponics failed on all the early space missions, so they built the Morning Star to be big enough to simulate the real world. We need to think about how to fix the farms,” replied Markus. Falor stepped back from the edge. “We’re being watched.” “I see them,” said Maera. “Two Rositite pods over there at the Jaco Building, they probably brought their pods in through this hull breech before we got here.” “What do you think they’re doing?” asked Markus. Maera shrugged. “My guess is they’re looking for a place to ride out this disaster. The Jacarions make liquid metal there, so the whole building is a ‘clean room’ with commercial oxygen generators and the limited ability to keep the building pressurized.” “I’m surprised their first thought wasn’t the Dark Highway,” said Falor, referring to the maintenance tunnel that was used to move black market supplies. He stepped into the shadows and out of view of the Rositites watching them. Maera glanced at Falor disappearing into the shadows, for a Hetenitte he was remarkably good at using the shadows. “They’re only looking,” said Maera. “You’re the Senior Underlord now and need to call a meeting of the Families to divide up territories.” Falor chuckled. “That will be the most interesting gathering in the history of the Families. I’ll probably have to pass out juice boxes and call a break for nappy time.” “I heard what father told you before he put us in the pod with Markus and Aeyah,” said Maera. Falor nodded. “I know what he said, but I’m not starting off with a blood-bath. They’re not the hardened soldiers of our parent’s crime syndicate–that time is gone, for now anyway. These are just kids. I’ll offer them the soft glove first, and then if necessary I’ll make examples out of the rowdy ones. Like maybe make them stand in the corner on time-out, or take away their tricycles.” “Don’t fool yourself, brother. Aeyah said she’s seen a steady stream of Rositite pods coming and going. Those kids are collecting up their parents hidden arsenals.” Aeyah was Markus’ sister by blood, and their pilot, while Maera was Falor’s sister, not by blood, but instead by a cruel twist of injustice. Markus and Falor first met Marae in the 5th grade. She was being viciously attacked by five older Rositite boys when he and Markus happened upon the scene. The sight of five older boys attacking a younger girl had sent them both into a rage, though Markus had controlled his rage better than Falor. At the end of the fight, all five Rositite boys were on the ground, and one of them with two broken wings, done by Falor’s hand. The Rositite boys lied about who started the fight, and even produced witnesses that hadn’t actually been there. Falor admitted that he was the one that broke the boy’s wings, and done so on purpose. Markus was sentenced to three months hard labor in the Security Detention Center for his part in the maiming of the boy, but Falor received the brunt of the injustice with a sentence of twelve months hard labor at quarter-rations. The twelve months would have been much worse if not for Maera’s father. The man was one of the Rositite secret Underlords, and if anything good could be said about the man, it was that he deeply loved his daughter. The five Rositite boys disappeared and were never found. Maera’s father then paid the necessary bribes and had food smuggled to Falor, and even arranged visits with his parents, and Marae. Falor was always exhausted during those grueling months and spent the visits asleep with his head on Marae’s lap while she softly sang to the boy that she now saw as her brother. On the day of Falor’s release, everyone was there; Falor’s parents, the Captain, Markus and his parents, and Marae and her father. The Captain asked Falor if he was remorseful for what he’d done, to which Falor replied: “No, I am not remorseful, and if anyone else hurts Marae, I’ll break their wings also.” And with that, any chance of Falor following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a Bridge Officer evaporated. The Captain and Falor’s parents were disappointed, but Maera’s father was ecstatic and secretly elevated Falor to a prince of the underworld–training him as if Falor were his own son. Falor had excelled in the underworld of the Morning Star–becoming so feared by the Rositites that he was called, The Falcon. Those few that tried to challenge him because he was an outsider quickly learned how sharp the Falcon’s talons were. “Guys, chill out. We need to find the Alarian before anyone starts tossing little juvenile delinquents out the airlocks,” added Markus. Maera wrapped an arm around her brother. “The Captain is 81 years old, so, counting one Alarian per generation, there should be three or maybe four Alarians in waiting, and they can only hide among the Solanittes.” Markus shook his head in disagreement. “The adult Alarians would never have taken a spot in a pod that could have saved a kid. My guess is that only the youngest Alarian survived.” “But everyone is wearing armor, someone would have seen the Eagle Armor by now,” said Falor. “Someone is hiding him,” said Markus. “He has no choice but to stay hidden,” said Falor. “By law, he is not permitted to reveal himself until he has confirmation the Captain is incapacitated, or dead, along with all the older Alarians.” “I know,” said Markus. “The Alarians have to live as ordinary citizens, or we risk re-creating the nobility, and the rise of a second Alarian Imperium. If our new Alarian… well, you know, there’s always a risk with a new Alarian until he proves he’ll abide by our laws.” Falor bowed his head slightly. “I am the Senior Underlord now, and I know my ancient duty as mandated by our founding fathers,” said Falor. “I live in the darkness so others may live in the light. If the new Alarian attempts to make himself Emperor, I will kill him. I swear by my ancestors that he will not place the laurel crown on his head.” Markus sighed. “I wonder if our ancestors did the right thing sparing the life of the Emperor during The Great Revolution and allowing him and his descendants to continue to govern with only a piece of paper to curtail his powers.” “The wisest Darian ever to live wrote that ‘piece of paper’,” said Falor. “Doctor Jathetarian was a Rositite,” added Maera proudly. “I remember a quote from history class,” countered Markus. “Doctor Jathetarian said, ‘I am not a Rositite, I am a Darian’. “Oh hush up, you,” replied Maera. “He’s the only Rositite in history that’s famous for something other than robbing a bank, don’t take that from us.” Markus decided not to get dragged into that discussion and put his hand on a hatch with a sign that read: Do not enter, radiation hazard. He took a deep breath and pulled the hatch open to reveal the ladder down to the maintenance tunnel. “This is an airlock?” noted Markus as he reached the bottom of the ladder. Maera followed down next. “Haven’t you ever been in the maintenance tunnels before?” “Of course not, I’d rather not get radiation poisoning,” replied Markus.” Maera laughed. “There’s zero chance of that happening.” “Okay, the hatch up here is closed, go ahead and pressurize,” said Falor. Maera pulled a lever next to the hatch, then tapped on a gauge to the side of the lever. When the needle pointed up, Maera stepped aside and grinned at Markus. Markus pushed the hatch open, the light on his helmet illuminating the darkness in front of him. His helmet light was quickly joined by two more lights from Falor and Maera. Markus twisted his head back and forth scanning the maintenance tunnel, a look of confusion growing on his face. The ceiling was low, and made of a darker metal, almost raw in appearance, and not the seamless hull plates like above, but instead he could clearly see each plate bolted in place. Bolts hadn’t been used to join metal together since the discovery of liquid metal. The entire corridor had the feel of something ancient, like the old spaceships when the Darai had first started long range space travel out to the furthest reaches of their solar system. Markus turned to Falor. “What is this?” Falor spread his arms. “Welcome aboard the Evening Star.” “Huh?” Maera jumped up and grabbed a handrail attached to the ceiling, then swung her feet up until they were pressed flat against the ceiling and looked back at Markus. The upside down Raven-helmet staring at him in the dark had a sinister feel. “I’ll tell him,” said Maera. “You always get the story wrong.” She twisted her head so only one of the Raven eyes was glaring at him. “The Evening Star was the largest exploration ship ever built, until the Morning Star. It was eventually decommissioned and left in orbit around the moon with other decommissioned ships. The Morning Star builders were in a hurry, so they used the Evening Star’s frame to build the Morning Star. This maintenance tunnel is actually the Evening Star’s original ring. The Morning Star is a shell built over it. They used to store supplies down here, but the Rositites stole everything and sold it on the black market.” Markus ran a wing across the wall and ceiling to get a feel for the amount of room there was, and it wasn’t much, early space travel must have been miserable. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” “Your parents already didn’t like me,” replied Marae. “They thought I was a wicked girl leading you down the path of sin. How do you think it would have gone if I’d showed you the underworld of the Morning Star?” “You should have told me three days ago after the meteor hit.” Falor waved a hand in the air. “How much you want to bet the air in here is toxic after all the fires and broken pipes. It could take years to clean up this mess and fix everything.” “Is there radiation down here like the sign on the door says?” asked Markus. “Naw, one of the previous Captains put those there to try and keep the Rositites out,” replied Falor. “I’m guessing it didn’t work,” said Markus. “Not even a little,” said Maera. “All it did was give the Rositites their own private place nobody else would go. We call this the Dark Highway.” “Alright, we’re going to put this place on the list of ‘last stand’ possibilities,” said Markus. “Let’s get to the nursery.” The radio beeped for attention in all three of their helmets. “Hey guys, five Jacarion pods just entered the ring through that big hull breech.” “Are you certain they were Jacarions?” asked Markus. “They passed close enough for me to see the pilot in Jackdaw armor.” “Did they see you?” asked Markus. “I don’t think they knew this was an active pod, I’m still docked to the ring where I dropped you off.” “Alright, Sis, don’t do anything to attract attention, they’re probably headed to the Jaco building to confront some Rositites poking around in there.” Markus turned to Falor. “We need to warn the Rositites to get out of there.” “I’m on it,” replied Falor as he switched to a private Rositite channel. “We’ll head to the nursery, catch up with us when you’re done.” Markus nodded at Maera to lead the way. Falor caught up a few minutes later. “It’s done, the Rositites are bugging out. They said they don’t want the building anyway.” “Where are they going now?” asked Markus. “To check out the farms, and then down here to see if the Dark Highway is an option. I warned them the air is probably toxic.” “Rositite kids know about this place?” asked Markus. “Yeah. Maera’s father started me out down here. He had me stealing crops from the farms and using the Dark Highway to transport them to buyers. I’d sell the crops for a reduced price and got to keep the profits, it built up a nice little fortune for myself.” Markus shook his head. “You’re my best friend, and there’s so much I don’t know about you.” “I’m sorry, I wasn’t allowed to tell you anything, for your own safety.” “Any chance you have a cache of those crops left?” “No, by the time I was fourteen I was out of the crop redistribution business and learning about the pharmaceutical business. Now that was really profitable.” “How much money do you have?” “More than you’ll make in ten lifetimes.” “The ship computer is down, and might never be back up again, so… I don’t see how those credits are going to help you now.” Falor laughed. “You think I’d store my money in the Morning Star Bank? No way. I was taught how to launder my credits into precious metals. I have them stored in a place nobody will ever find.” “On the 2nd Ring?” “I had half stored on the 1st Ring. So, yeah, I lost money.” “You do know you’re not a Rositite, you’re a Hetenitte.” “Am I? Really? You do know I was supposed to die during that year in prison. The Captain couldn’t sentence me to death, because it’s illegal to give a kid the death sentence. But I committed the worst crime a Darian can commit–I intentionally broke another Darians wings. So he sentenced me to quarter rations. I was supposed to starve to death as an example to make sure nobody else would ever do what I did. But, did the Hetenittes come to my rescue? No, they didn’t, the Rositites did. So don’t ever confuse me for a Hetenitte, they can all walk out an airlock for all I care.” “Tell me how you really feel,” said Markus. “Don’t worry, brother, I’ll always be loyal to you. You suffered for three months in prison with me, and even shared your food. I’ll never forget that, I owe you a debt, and Rositites always pay their debts.” “Whether you think you’re a Rositite or not, you still have the honor of a Hetenitte. And anyway, I like Rositites, I’m just not sure why.” Falor turned his head to Markus and narrowed his eyes. “Hmm…well, a lot of it has to do with where you keep pointing your helmet light.” They both heard Maera giggle. “And if you don’t stop it, I’m going to have to punch you. For the love of the ancestors, she’s my sister and I don’t need to keep seeing what you’re looking at, you pervert.” Maera looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, you hypocrite. Do you think I don’t know there’s a spot in Markus’ dining room where you can see a corner of the hall mirror, and that mirror can see the bathroom mirror if the door is left ajar, which it always is to let the steam out, because the bathroom fan mysteriously keeps breaking no matter how many times it’s been fix, and you always stand in that spot when Aeyah is taking a shower.” Markus stopped and clenched his fists. “You’ve been hawk-eying my sister?” Falor spun around into a fighting stance. “And you’ve been moon-owling mine?” “Leave it alone, Markus, it’s none of your business,” said Aeyah over the radio. “Maera told me about it months ago. I think its sweet he goes to all that trouble just for a blurry image of a shadow behind a shower curtain.” Markus and Falor flared their wings in the threatening gesture of an impending fight. Maera, confused at how quickly they could go from best friends to enemies, ran back and inserted herself between them. “Stop, I’m sorry I said anything, I was just trying to lighten the mood,” pleaded Maera. A new voice from the darkness ahead brought them silent. “Excuse me, if you three young people are going to be here long, could you let me know when the rescue team arrives?” Markus lowered his wings and swung his helmet spotlight around to illuminate a man standing just outside a hatch with a sign next to it that read: Nursery access. The man wasn’t wearing armor, but instead, wore one of the emergency soft-suits that were kept in storage lockers around the Morning Star–and the man was old, very old. “We are the rescue team,” said Markus. “Well then, if you three are quite finished splashing the walls down with teenage hormones, I’d suggest we leave this tunnel immediately, there are some nasty chemicals in the air down here that’ll eat through your armor within an hour.” Falor looked at Markus. “I told you the air was toxic.” “Sir, who are you?” asked Markus. The man motioned impatiently at the hatch. “Come along, we don’t have all day. I’m Chief Gillian, retired, I was the senior ship’s engineer long before any of you were hatched.” Maera obeyed first and followed the man. Falor and Markus glared at each other, but followed into the airlock next. The old man pulled the hatch shut, but instead of cycling the air, he pulled a handle closer to the air tanks. Falor raised a brow. “You just purged all the air to the outside?” “There’s a nitrogen tetroxide and ammonia leak in the tunnel, we can’t have this air being recycled and get into the nursery,” explained Gillian. “It’s better to lose some air than risk the eggs.” Markus tapped his radio controls for a fleet-wide channel. “This is Markus, there’s a chemical leak inside the ring. Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate.” A voice replied over the radio. “You’re just trying to stop us from getting to the Rositites trespassing in the Jaco building?” Markus unfastened a remote microphone from his armor and handed it to the Chief. The man frowned at Markus before speaking. “This is retired Chief Gillian, the chemical leak is in the maintenance tunnel. If any maintenance hatch was left open during the haste to launch the pods, there could be a toxic chemical cloud inside the ring. Get out now.” The reply from the voice was instant. “Yes, Chief, we’re evacuating now.” Chief Gillian handed Markus back the microphone. “Don’t do that again, young man, I’m 112 years old, and too old to solve your problems or be in charge. I’ve kept the eggs alive, but even that you’re going to have to take over. My wife, Jaen, and I went out and did some welding to get limited power restored to the nursery. It took us eighteen hours to complete, and I nearly didn’t make it back–my beloved Jaen died out there. I’ve kept my promise to her and protected the eggs, but once you take over their care, I’m taking a walk out the airlock.” Markus felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut. “I’m sorry,” said Markus, then placed a closed fist over his heart. “I swear by my ancestors that she will be remembered as the hero that saved the nursery.” The old man placed a hand on Markus’ shoulder. “Ah, the fire of youth, it is good to see. Alright, there’s a lot of work to do, have you found any of the Alarians?” “No, Sir. We think only the youngest Alarian might have survived, you’re the first adult we’ve seen.” “That is unfortunate,” replied the old man. “I know all the Alarians, there are, or were, five of them, but the youngest is not ready to take command. He’s remarkably brave, and unusually compassionate for an Alarian, but he hasn’t shown the slightest leadership abilities yet. And, he’s a late bloomer, none of his black feather markings have come in, which is probably why you can’t find him, his wings are still as snow-white as a Solanitte.” “MARKUS!” Aeyah shouted over the radio. “Aeyah, what’s wrong?” shouted Falor. “I’m on my way.” “No, no, I’m not in danger. Those kids you guys sent to rescue Taslaen, there’s a big problem.” “I found a survivor and I’m about to enter the nursery, can it wait?” asked Markus. “No, it can’t. Laena just radioed in, she said Ren was injured during the rescue, but he did get inside Taslaen’s pod. He got the pod under control, but then he fired the thrusters and took off without a single word. Laena’s been trying to contact them, but nobody will answer.” “I told you not to send anyone out to help that psycho sociopath,” said Maera. “I’ll bet anything Taslaen is the cause of anything that’s gone wrong.” “Aeyah, did you try to contact Taslaen?” asked Markus. “Yes, but no answer, and their transponder is off, but that isn’t the real problem.” “So, what’s the real problem?” asked Markus. “Laena sent me the video of the rescue. Ren is wearing Alarian Eagle Armor!”