Astral Hunter

The train pointed at the stars. It waited, unguarded as if asking to be hijacked.

Yone sneaked through the roofless station towards the carriage which rested on the rails running up a granite wall, glinting in the light drifting in from Port-Ishtar’s streets.

The night screamed silence.

Convinced she was alone, Yone removed the screwdriver masquerading as her hairpin. She knelt beside the rear piston, brushed away the ice crystals dusting the carriage, and felt for the emergency hatch.

Easy so far.

But when she wrenched open the panel, it slipped through the sheen of cold sweat coating her hands and clattered on the marble floor. She leapt on top of it, stifling the noise echoing around the station before facing the shadows, screwdriver raised as though it was a pistol. Not that a pistol (let alone a screwdriver) would help if the matriarch’s sentries caught her. Or worse, her mother.

No one came.

Obviously.

The parades for Winter Solstice would begin in the mountains soon, and no one in Port-Ishtar would miss the rare freedom to enjoy themselves. No one except Yone, because midnight, when the sky exploded with light and fire, was her one chance to escape.

She toyed with the buttons of her twilight coat as she flicked her gaze up the train and plotted its route into the sky and beyond, travelling the bridges connecting the stars dotted across the night. Excitement prickled her skin.

Inevitably, her free hand slid into her pocket, where her fingers brushed the letter which had arrived that morning, concealed within her regular blueprints order. Other apprentices didn’t dare interfere with the mess of parcels and paper spilling over her desk, thank the Heavens, since if they did, Yone knew she would’ve faced a charge of treason. No excuses. No trial. And no wonder, considering the scribbled message.

Matriarch lies. Duality exists. Midnight. The bridge is open.

Yone should’ve burnt the letter. She should’ve watched it turn to ash, then hiked deep into the forest bordering the coast and scattered its remnants to the wind. Instead, she’d pocketed it.

Everything about the note felt foreign, the soft paper, black ink, metallic smell. It was from another world, must be. So, what if it was a trap? Tales of other worlds’ villainous tricks saturated newsletters, and she’d be foolish to fall victim to their schemes.

Or brave to take a chance in trusting them.

A brave fool was better than a passive one.

And she wanted to escape, didn’t she?

Outside, the city bells chimed, counting down the day’s final moments – four-tenths to midnight. Not long left.

The exposed cogs glistened in the dim light trickling through the open roof. Regular entanglemers might need a torch to see, but not a Heliod, not Yone. She relaxed her eyes, feeling her pupils widen, absorbing every detail of the clockwork jigsaw, although she knew the most important piece of the puzzle depended on the letter writer.

Station keepers would’ve closed the bridges for Solstice. Except radicals whispered of bridges mirroring doors, capable of opening from both sides. Duality. Yone tilted her head and scanned the patch of sky encircled by the station’s granite walls. Stars peppered the night, the pathways between them invisible. Even experienced engtanglemers couldn’t guess whether the bridge was open or closed without the control tower. And if her tutors couldn’t, then Yone had no chance, but there was another way. If a distant world had opened their bridge to Port-Ishtar, Yone could jump-start the train.

In the hatch, each cog balanced on the teeth of its neighbours. One slip and the brass labyrinth could shatter. Yone inhaled to the count of three, steadying herself before she weaved her screwdriver inside and danced between the clockwork linked to the engine. She tightened screws, nudged gears, and wound coils. After twisting a four-pronged wheel, she removed her screwdriver and waited.

An icy breeze whistled around the station.

The cogs remained motionless.

The coward in her heaved a relieved sigh.

Either the writer had lied or the door theories were wrong. It didn’t matter. The bridge wasn’t open. No more treason today. At least she had tried. Perhaps that would sate the appetite of the rebel burning inside her. Now she could destroy the letter and sneak into the crowds when they paraded back into Port-Ishtar. In the chaos of Solstice, no one would notice, and nothing would change. A weight pulled on her hearts at the thought.

When the bells chimed three-tenths to midnight, Yone slid the screwdriver into her braids. There’d be other chances to leave, she told herself. Opportunities that (ideally) didn’t mean committing treason and state theft on the same day. When she qualified, maybe she’d request a foreign posting.

She snorted a laugh.

That was as likely as her mother remembering her birthday (twenty ignored and counting). No. Yone was trapped. How much longer would the matriarch indulge her fantasy of becoming an entanglemer? A season? Two? Whatever the other apprentices might think, Yone wasn’t naïve. She knew the matriarch had used the training to manipulate her. It kept her quiet, distracting her from her fate, although the chains of duty would bind her soon enough. After all, every Heliod’s place was beside their matriarch. A lifetime of servitude. An honour, her mother called it.

A curse.

Dread tugged at Yone’s insides.

Click.

The smallest cog wobbled.

Click. Click. Click.

It started spinning, catching the teeth of its neighbour. Another gear turned, then another, and another. Eventually, the largest four-pronged wheel jolted and Yone’s hearts thundered as the engine purred to life and vapour poured from the undercarriage. A metallic tang stung her nose as the train hissed, and she scrambled away in time to avoid the piston pressing forwards. The giant axels lurched and heaved the carriage up out of its locks, ready to launch.

The bridge was open.

Nerves bubbled inside her. She hadn’t expected the hijack to turn into, well… a hijack. She’d been so certain it wouldn’t work that she didn’t even calculate the train’s destination, but that was the least of her concerns. Not only did the whirring engine prove radical ideas about bridges, it meant someone capable of outwitting the matriarch lurked amongst the stars. Who? Were they equally dangerous? And why, of the hundreds of Heliods, had they contacted Yone?

The city bells chimed two-tenths to midnight as the spinning gears hummed and vapour hissed. Only one question mattered now. Should she board?

As if in answer, hinges screeched when a ladder unfolded from halfway up the carriage. Moments later, it thudded on the ground beside Yone. Her legs felt heavier than a Hiber bull.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all she needed to do. The stairway to freedom was a rusting ladder. With a deep breath, she unpeeled her right boot off the floor as though treacle coated the marble, and stepped onto the first rung.

Wait.

This wasn’t her. This wasn’t smart.

She didn’t have a plan, and without one, she’d be vulnerable. Any of the syndicates or rotten senates infecting other worlds might catch her. The letter writer was a faceless stranger and trusting them was reckless. They could be a syndicate lord, baiting her to be drugged, held hostage, ransomed.

A shiver ran up her spine.

Syndicates would be the least of her problems. Even if she dodged the infinite threats lying in wait across the bridge, the matriarch would hunt her. Like she’d done with Yone’s sisters. Idiot. Did she think she could succeed when every one of her sisters had failed?

She’d fallen to her impulses when staying and finishing her training was logical. Perhaps she would get that foreign posting as an entanglemer. The thought soothed her, despite its impossibility. She reached for her screwdriver. No one had seen her. There was still time to stop the train, burn the letter, and—

‘Well, this is a predicament.’

Yone froze. She knew which sentry stood behind her.

‘Either station keepers have been lazy. Or you have.’

Caught by the second-worst person possible. There was no escape now. The bottom rung of the ladder creaked as she removed her traitorous foot and turned, facing her mother. Vapour billowed around her mother’s electric-blue suit, imprinted with the swirling hieroglyphics of the matriarch’s household. The silver lines weaving through her obsidian braids glimmered while her cyan-white eyes – the mirror of Yone’s – shone like the stars above.

‘Pleione.’ Yone dipped her head. A show of respect might make all the difference.

‘You disappeared.’

Of all the people to notice her absence, Yone wouldn’t have wagered it being her mother. ‘Careless station keepers, like you mentioned. I realised they left the bridge open,’ she said, nodding at the sky.

‘Interesting.’ Pleione’s gaze swept upwards. ‘Without a working train, I believed that was impossible to know.’

It took all of Yone’s energy to steady the tremor infecting her voice. ‘Yes, so I came here and checked it using the engine.’

‘Yet you just suggested you saw an open bridge. Why not report it immediately? Why need a train at all?’

Shit. She wasn’t ready for this. If her mother foiled her so easily, Yone had no chance against the matriarch. She would end up like her sisters.

‘Rather impressive to get it going on your own,’ Pleione said, her lips curling into a smirk.

‘Every entanglemer knows how.’ False. Only a handful did. ‘Emergency procedure stipulates one person must be capable of starting engines.’ The opposite was true. ‘It’s a trade secret for safety reasons.’ Hiber shit. It was a design flaw. ‘And a quick way to check—’

‘You’ve always been a terrible liar, Alcyone.’ Pleione lingered over each syllable. Al-kee-oh-nee. Yone’s full name, her Heliod name – wielded to strip her of everything but her fate.

The intensifying hum of the engine filled the silent void between them. Saying nothing might save her. After all, Pleione had no absolute proof Yone was lying. She had a reputation to protect and exposing her only remaining daughter as another traitor might cripple the position she’d schemed for decades to win. Pleione wouldn’t risk her status without evidence proving her innocence in Yone’s attempted desertion.

The bells chimed one-tenth to midnight.

A timer began ticking from within the carriage, quickening with every passing moment. If the train launched without Yone inside, she’d have to face the matriarch’s wrath as well as her mother’s.

Not an option.

She leapt to the open panel by the piston, where the cogs blurred into a shimmering mess. She’d never stopped an engine alone, though it was possible. Another apprentice had almost flayed a finger doing it, but they’d jammed the gears without shattering the clockwork. Yone’s thoughts spun faster than the mechanics as she tried to remember how. Logic fell victim to the panic rising like bile inside her.

Think.

Something about choosing the right cog. One linked to all the others.

The four-pronged wheel. Jam that, and the engine would stop. She tore her screwdriver out of her knotted braids.

‘What’s this letter?’ Pleione asked.

A boulder dropped into Yone’s stomach.

Her mother held the treasonous message. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she sprang forwards. She was doomed. Here stood the woman who’d remained loyal to the one who’d hunted her children. Any flicker of love that might once have resided in Pleione’s hearts died long ago. Yone’s best chance was to outwit her mother. Difficult, but not impossible if she used Pleione’s ambition against her. Another traitor for a daughter could unravel her life’s work. Yone gambled that the ticking engine might unnerve her mother, so she stepped away from the carriage and stood as straight as she dared.

‘Reveal me, and I’ll destroy you.’

Pleione didn’t react. She only stared at the letter.

‘Hear me? I’ll—’

‘You won’t,’ Pleione said. A softness had crept into her voice.

‘I will. I’ll ruin your position.’

‘Do not promise what you cannot deliver.’

‘I mean it. Burn it or I’ll frame you for all this.’

Pleione lifted her gaze. ‘My dear, who do you think they’ll believe?’

Yone swallowed. She was at her mother’s mercy, the worst place to be, except… something was wrong. The usual arrogance carved into Pleione’s features had vanished. As she brushed her thumb over its scribbled message, a shadow crossed her expression. If Yone didn’t know better, she would’ve said it was grief. A moment later, her mother’s fingers burnt cyan-white, and flames consumed the paper.

Yone pointed her screwdriver at Pleione. ‘Don’t try anything. I’m warning you. I’ll fight back… W-Wait. Why’d you do that?’

‘Did you believe Solstice fireworks would offer sufficient cover for your escape?’ Pleione asked. Ash fell from her hand as her skin darkened. ‘Sentries would catch you within a day, less if your actions are as brainless as your expression. Stop gawping.’

Yone closed her mouth. All the while, the train’s ticking timer quickened.

‘So, they figured out how to force open our bridge? Took them long enough,’ Pleione said.

Shock hit Yone like floodwater. Did her mother know who wrote the letter?

‘I have an off-world errand I must run, so I can give you better cover than fireworks.’

It was a trap. It had to be. ‘You’ll follow me.’

‘No.’ Pleione extracted a key with a coiled tip from her pocket – a station keeper’s key, one that unlocked bridges. ‘Matriarch’s orders. I was supposed to leave after the parade. However, considering this particular assignment, I am sure she will forgive my eagerness.’ She twisted towards the control tower, half-hidden behind the granite wall opposite, where another train lay dormant. ‘Am I correct in thinking that inserting this key will reset the bridge, wiping any trace of your destination?’

Yone nodded.

The train’s ticking timer transformed into a continuous trill.

‘W-Well then.’ Pleione cleared her throat too late to disguise the break in her voice. ‘That should give you a season’s head start, maybe two. Three if you’re—’ she shuffled – ‘helped.’

She was giving Yone time. A few seasons might be enough to find a safe house far from syndicates and corrupt senates. By running away from power instead of towards it, Yone would defy what people expected from Heliods, what the matriarch would expect. The chance was too perfect. There must be a catch.

‘What d’you want?’ Yone asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ It had to be a trap. ‘Did you plant that letter? Are you going to ransom me?’

Pleione barked a laugh. ‘You overestimate your price, I think.’ She attempted her usual contempt, but sadness tinged her words. After a moment, she whispered, ‘Trust who wrote to you, and no one else. Don’t repeat your sister’s mistakes.’

Yone’s temples throbbed. Pleione must be lying. Her expression was unreadable, but this close, Yone saw the echoes of grief creeping between the lines framing her eyes.

She wondered what choice Pleione had after her daughters’ failed escape. Yone had been a toddler, but that wouldn’t have deterred the matriarch from eliminating the entire family if she questioned Pleione’s loyalty. By denouncing her older daughters and being faithful to their murderer, Pleione might have saved her youngest child. Yone studied her mother as if seeing her for the first time.

Vapour poured from the undercarriage, stinging her nostrils with the smell of burning metal.

‘Come with me,’ Yone said. ‘If you know who opened the bridge, they must want to save us. Both of us.’

‘I don’t need saving, my dear.’

Eternity might have passed before Pleione stepped into the gloom, pausing as the vapour engulfed her body. ‘Make the time I give you count.’

Her eyes shone through the billowing shadows, then she vanished. Yone almost ran after her, but the ladder screeched as it began folding back into the train.

How could Yone leave now, after her mother had hinted at the true cost of her safety? She’d be selfish to throw away Pleione’s sacrifice in a messy escape. Life here would never be free, but it was certain, safe.

Passive.

In serving the matriarch, Pleione had saved her last daughter, but who would Yone help by staying? She’d be a cog in the matriarch’s engine of collective amnesia, joining the thousands who chose silence after watching loved ones fall. She faced the train, perched on the track to the freedom her sisters died for. It would be an insult to their memory if she walked away.

When the ladder rose past her shoulder, she stuffed the screwdriver into her hair and wrapped her arms around the bottom rung. The floor disappeared from under her feet as the train’s engines thundered.