Chapter 2

Morrigan bundled her hair close to her neck and fastened it with a clip. She brushed the golden strands around her face, if only to hide her better in the crowd on the transport.

The ship was about to enter LC-426’s atmosphere.

If she could have melted into the wall, she would have. Just having to sit next to someone was too much for her. She reminded herself it was almost over, and that she’d be out of the cramped ship soon.

One would have thought, as important as this was to The Company, they would have had better, less cramped seating.

She would have been happier in the storage bay.

At least there, no one would have touched her.

She turned her attention to the small window over her right shoulder. The sun blared down on the otherwise empty rock of a planet, and as the ship descended, The Colony came into view.

A glistening ball of light and metal and domes, The Colony looked more like something that should have been on one of the core worlds instead of this dead one. Ships were landing and lifting off. Even from the distance, she could see others unloading and heading in the gleaming balls.

Both out there, and in here, she could feel the energy. All the passengers were desperate to get inside, to lay claim to their holdings.

Start their own lives over and claiming their winnings. Though not exactly a lottery, The Company, the builders of the facility, offered credits for anyone who agreed to live in the Colony for at least three years. The terraforming project was created to make this rock livable. As a bonus, someone decided to prove after a decade long war that Novians and humans could really live together in harmony.

In essence, prove that the war was really over by locking both up together in this terraforming complex.

That’s what all the paperwork said. Three years was the minimum. Many were staying just long enough to earn their credits and move on to other worlds.

Morrigan hadn’t decided what she would do, whether she would stay or go. It depended, really, on what she would be doing. If she liked it in The Colony, she would stay.

If not, she would move on. Such a small blink of time, really.

Nothing in the life of a Novian. While not immortal, most Novians did live very long lifetimes. In many cases, a few lifetimes longer than humans. A few years was only a blink for many Novians. Standard centuries were merely eras.

On this particular transport, there were a few humans, but not many, compared to the number of Novians.

The humans were more nervous.

The Novians, in contrast, were ready for a fight. Fighting for over a decade, the war stayed with many Novians. It wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves fighting against others because of their psychic skills.

Part of the reason Morrigan stayed in the corner, away from everyone, as best as possible in the cramped transport.

She might look mostly human because of her clipped wings, but not everything could be removed. Like her acute sense of smell—the one that could smell death, among some of her other rarer talents.

“I can almost taste those credits,” a particularly stinky human said from the seat next to her. He’d been up and down most of the journey. She hadn’t been sure where he was assigned to sit, only that he kept annoying her.

Morrigan didn’t respond. Instead, she scooted away again. She’d almost made it through the trip without having to speak to him.

Ugh.

Evidently, what luck she might have had was already running out. Perhaps coming to The Colony wasn’t her best idea.

He clapped his hands together and rubbed them greedily. “I can’t wait to go see what kind of luxuries are here.” His eyes sparkled with desire, and his gaze wandered over Morrigan.

She resisted the urge to punch him. If this was what she was to expect from human men, then she was going to have a long three years.

No part of her desired to meet anyone. She just wanted to get in, do her job, and get out. As far away from observation and contact as possible. She would be best staying in the shadows, away from everyone else.

It could be dangerous if she were to let her innate abilities free. The war could start all over because of a Novian’s desire to defend themselves against an aggressor.

And Morrigan would always defend herself if she was pushed that far. Though they were bubbling more and more to the surface with every sneer the smelly man made in her direction.

“What do you say we celebrate after we get settled? I’ll buy you a drink.” He nudged her with his elbow.

As soon as he touched her, she got a jolt. Her psychic gift hit her hard, overwhelmed with the openness of the human’s mind. Many considered it a blessing, this ability to read minds. Morrigan, however, considered it to be more a curse, depending on the situation.

She narrowed her gaze at the man as the images came to her faster than an info transfer. “If you think that coming here will save you from your past, you are a fool.”

He blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You cannot run from your debts.”

“You don’t know anything about my debts,” he snapped, his voice louder than it needed to be.

Numbers flashed in her mind’s eye. A lot of them. “23,456. 9,363. 149,321. 45,643.” With every number she spoke, his face became paler. The numbers kept coming, like this man was swimming in them.

They were everywhere, following him like a shadow.

“What? How?”

She repeated a few more numbers.

He leaned in. “Are you working for the Gordlings?”

“You will be found,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He stumbled backwards, moving away from her, his eyes wide, and fear filling his expression.

“You—you can’t know that—” He kept stammering as he moved away, his gaze darting from passenger to passenger, looking for whoever he feared.

Morrigan began to relax as the information stopped overpowering her.

The Novian woman in the seat behind her leaned over. “What did you do to him?”

“Reminded him of his debts,” Morrigan answered. Her heart stopped hammering, and her breath finally felt normal. She had started to channel his fear, an awful side effect of her power, and that human had been terrified. Whatever debts he owed, they were huge, and those he owed them to were not about to let him fade away for three years.

Her gaze darted around the ship, and she wondered who on board this transport was interested in that stinky human.

“Are you all right?” the woman behind her asked.

Morrigan glanced at her, blinking a few times as her perception shifted back to normal. “I will be.” As the errant emotions faded, she felt drained. Like she could sleep for a day. She wanted to, that was certain, but she could not.

She reoriented in the moment because they would be disembarking, and she needed to be prepared.

Contact with others was so easy, and she had yet to master not gleaning things from arbitrary touch.

Something she’d never concerned herself with before, but now, even the slightest contact could put her—

“I’m Ula.” Ula held out her hand.

“Morrigan,” she replied. “Nice to meet you.” Morrigan reached up, trying to steel her tired mind against another prediction, but as soon as they touched, she felt the immediate connection. Unlike what she’d just experienced with the human, this was pleasant, softer. A positive sensation.

She held onto Ula’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ula nodded. “Yeah. And?” She started to pull away.

Morrigan didn’t let go. “Wait. A moment, please.”

Ula didn’t look exactly convinced, but she stopped pulling away. “What kind of seer are you?”

“Shh,” Morrigan whispered. She didn’t want anyone hearing that. It would cause more problems than help if word got out she had that particular skill.

Staying away from others was best.

Nonetheless, when the sensation called, she had to release the information, or it drove her to madness. Whether the information was pleasant or not.

She closed her eyes and let the sensation take over, swirling around her until a few perfectly cued notes in Ula’s life came up.

“You’re going to be fine. They’ve decided you’re no longer worth chasing.”

“Whoa,” Ula said. “Wait. How did you—”

Morrigan held up a finger to quiet her for a second. If she didn’t get this out right now, it would thunder in her head until she found Ula again and told her everything. “Look for attraction in black, but stay away from red, or your decisions will end poorly.”

Ula nodded. “I’ve never done well with red things.”

Morrigan smiled. “Trust your gut. You shall be fine.”

“Thank you.” Ula wanted to say more, but the intercom addressed them, telling them they needed to get off the ship.

“Welcome to The Colony,” came a somewhat soothing, mechanical female voice.

Morrigan wasn’t sure she felt exactly soothed to hear that.

* * *

It will be all right , Morrigan reminded herself as she crossed from the sunshine into the shadows of the wide complex buildings.

The sun, hot and dry, made her edgy. It was making everyone in line edgy. Smells of sweat from beings who weren’t made to be in this kind of heat for this long added a horrid scent to the already putrid, dry air.

She hoped the filters inside will be strong enough to pull the unnerving smells from the air.

The Nova Wars had taken everything from her, and regardless of how hard she fought to save her worlds and her people, it didn’t matter.

She, like many of the Novians, couldn’t stop the humans. They just kept coming. When they were grounded, the humans still kept coming.

She forced herself not to think about it. The past was gone, and she needed to make peace with it. With the war, with the humans, and with herself.

Do not wallow, she told herself. This is the beginning of a new life.

Morrigan must start over. What other option did she have?

Be one among all species...

She inhaled a breath, hoping to solidify her thoughts, and appreciate what was around her. At least she was alive, and no one was trying to kill her just for existing.

Instead, the growing hostility seemed to bubble around her as everyone waited in the long lines to get inside The Colony.

The heat wasn’t helping.

She hoped no one started a fight, though it wouldn’t surprise her. Novians and humans fought hard against one another during the war, trying to find their dominance.

Truly, all either of them wanted was a home. But both thought they had rights over the other, and they went to war.

No different from any war, truly. And Morrigan had been in enough in her long existence.

The Nova Wars proved that the Novians and humans were not ready to stop fighting. They waged war for over a decade.

And now they were expected to live in an uneasy peace here, under this domed structure, under the guise of terraforming this world to a hospitable place.

The Company had worked with the council that had hammered out the peace between the Novians and the humans, using this terraforming project as a way to prove that the two species could co-exist.

Morrigan saw more than just the almost-fifty mile high buildings. She saw a melting pot of war and fighting that would bubble to the surface at some point.

The Novian war priest, Krevik, would have loved to be here. The fallen in battle were his favorite, after all. And she expected more would fall in the name of war, even here, under this dome of peace.

Krevik loved the chaos. And his desires to stir it up was of Novian legend.

She knew his whims far too well. Having been one of his warrior priestesses, Morrigan knew exactly how hard he pushed his soldiers. What was expected from them.

And what was not.

A lot was expected of Morrigan.

Hence, why she failed so brilliantly, and was banished after the war. Truly, it was before, for her assignments got worse and worse, and her chances of failure were greatly increased after.

And she was stuck learning to exist without her brethren.

Her people.

And her wings.

Yes, he would have appreciated all of this. The fear, the anger, and of course, the greed. Krevik would have adored it all.

It just made Morrigan, well, sad.

She glanced at all the Novians and humans, and could feel everyone’s multitude of reasons for coming. But all had the same anchor. They each would earn their one-hundred thousand credits if they made it through the initial three-year period.

Morrigan’s reason was no different than everyone else. If she made it out alive, it would be worth the money.

Enough for a broken Novian Warrior to start a new life somewhere, since she could not go back home.

And if she could not look back, she must look forward.

The heat waned as she got closer to the massive Complex structures, and she marveled at the massive construction. In the shade, the lines immediately seemed calmer, and they started moving faster.

Perhaps it was because she wasn’t as hot as she had been.

Didn’t matter.

She was moving forward. On with her existence, such as it was.

Stop that. This could work out well...

She had to remind herself, that while her existence had changed, it did not mean it wouldn’t be for the positive. There was always a reason one endured things and survived.

They still had a purpose.

Morrigan must still have purpose, since she’d survived her punishment. Not many Novian warriors walked away from one of Krevik’s punishments.

She had.

That was important.

What it meant, she didn’t know. Unfortunately, she could not see her own fate. Everyone else’s? Of course she could, annoyingly well, as it were.

But her own was different. A blind future with no direction.

How did humans live like this?

How would she—for the rest of whatever existence she had? That much, no one had told her—no one had expected her to survive after her crimes—so she had no idea how much of a life she would have.

Or how she would have means to live.

Hence, applying for the opportunity presented with The Colony. Her skills and traits were assessed, and she would be assigned a job based on what she would be good at, according to whatever algorithms they use to determine it.

But what skills did they think a grounded Novian had?

In a way, she was intrigued to see what they would assign her. It could be security or protection, considering her history.

In the distance, she could see Transdot uniforms.

It took her a moment to remind herself not to react—the Transdot uniforms were very close to what the humans wore in the war. Human military had reformed themselves at the end of the war into the Transdot Military Organization, or the TMO, and many worlds used their services for law enforcement.

Would they put her in the TMO?

It was a possibility. Her assignment was not defined when she was accepted. She’d be put where they wanted her.

She rubbed her palm, feeling the skin itched where they’d installed the cybernetic chip for identification, payments, and communication.

An awful lot of tech for a small spot on her hand. If she pressed hard enough, she could feel it under there.

She hoped she didn’t dig the thing out. She scratched her shoulder and felt part of the scarred line where her wings had once been. She glanced around The Colony’s structure. She would have loved flying around in there.

Ahead of her, Ula spoke to a red-skinned man, and she glanced her way, and then brush the guy off.

Good girl, she thought. She should certainly stay away from him. Even from here, the Novian with the red skin looked like trouble.

As she reached the front, she met the officer of this line, and held out her bag, as she’d seen others do, and then her wrist.

The officer scanned the spot where the chip resided just under her skin before taking her bag for inspection.

“Morrigan,” the officer said, his voice thick and gruff.

She nodded as he checked her bag for contraband. Though really, Morrigan had so little, she couldn’t imagine anyone thinking any of her—

“You cannot bring in a weapon,” the officer said.

“I didn’t,” she replied automatically.

“Then what is this?” He held out a long glistening stick.

“It’s for my hair,” Morrigan said.

He raised his eyebrow.

Over his shoulder, Morrigan saw Ula glancing back at her, her eyes wide.

“What can a stick do to your hair?” he snarled as he sat it to the side.

Another officer came over, this one a woman. “What’s going on?” She glanced at Morrigan and then at the officer.

He held up the stick. “She has weapons.”

The woman glanced at Morrigan—and Morrigan noticed she had very long hair, bundled tight against her head—and raised her eyebrow. “That’s not a weapon.”

“Looks like a shank.”

“There’s another one,” Morrigan said as she undid the clip, letting the long butter nut-colored strands tumble down. “It’s to bundle my hair.” She held out her hand, and she’d show how it worked, if the man required a demonstration. They were one of the few things she’d managed to bring from Nova. One of her few mementos. They didn’t look like much, but they’d been part of her warrior uniform. “If I may?”

The male Transdot officer glanced at his superior.

“Go take a break,” the superior said. “I’ll finish her.”

He grumbled something as he walked away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be a problem,” Morrigan said. “They’re only to keep my hair restrained. Part of my, my, uh, uniform from my past.”

The woman waited until he was gone, and put it back inside her bag. “You’re fine. Hair sticks are common enough.” She glanced at the pad that was lying flat, next to her bag. Morrigan’s information remained on the display, glowing up at the officer.

“Here, take your bag.” She handed her a small reader. “Here’s your map and your assignments.” Her gaze ran over her for a second. “Move on.”

Morrigan shivered.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about that TMO officer that made her uncomfortable.