Bree may be away healing, but she has left behind a thank you gift! For the next few weeks, Tuesdays & Thursdays will feature new posts from a serial featuring some old friends. This serial was originally posted (mostly!) on Patreon, and has been edited and finished to be posted live on our blog over the next few weeks. But for those who just want it NOW, or who hate reading on a blog and would like an epub… Well here is the epub!
Return to the world after the Beyond Series and meet the residents of Sector Three…
When Ashwin asks Six & Bren to take in an emotionally fractured Makhai soldier, there are a thousand things that could go wrong. But they are hard at work building their school and rebuilding their sector, and Sebastian is a genius who can fix anything. Anything. In return for his help, all they have to do is give him a safe place to find out if his emotional wounds can be healed.
Just one traumatized supersoldier in the middle of a school filled with former feral street kids, war refugees from exclusive brothels, and a few dozen kids who barely know what a school is.
What could go wrong?
—
DISCLAIMERS: this is a serial meant for existing readers of the series. it contains full series spoilers for the Beyond Series and may not make sense if you haven’t read it.
It is also NOT erotic. This is the first part of a very very very slow burn romance between a broken Makhai soldier and an artist who escaped Sector Two after the bombings. There may also be a few other romances a brewing… consider this more like a TV show with multiple members of the cast up to hijinks, even if there are two main characters.
—
Sunlight was brighter than he’d remembered.
Sebastian squinted as Ashwin let the jeep coast to a stop on a little patch of nothing on the edge of Sector Three. Ashwin had offered him a pair of sunglasses as soon as they’d cleared the Base, with a thoughtful understanding that was alien to Sebastian’s understanding of the man. If he hadn’t watched the man next to him pass a dozen barcode scans and one DNA checkpoint, he might have wondered if he was sitting next to an imposter.
The last time Sebastian had laid eyes on Ashwin Malhotra, he’d been the model Makhai soldier. Disciplined. Cold. Mission-oriented and ruthless.
Sebastian could understand that man taking an interest in him. Whatever else he was, Sebastian Montoya was a highly valued and virtually irreplaceable resource. Efficiency demanded exhausting every potential solution before discarding him.
Efficiency hadn’t demanded caring about Sebastian’s barely discernible flinch upon stepping into the daylight for the first time in ten months. After all, Makhai soldiers were expected to endure far greater discomfort. It hadn’t required the forethought that had gone into preparing a meal–the first real food Sebastian had seen in months–much less whatever research had gone into unearthing what food was his favorite.
The paper sack of beef patties sat untouched next to the sunglasses on the seat between them. As much as the sunlight hurt, it was a reminder that, for the moment, Sebastian was free. The sharp edge of hunger carving through him was a reminder of how easily he could be caged again if he let his guard slip.
Either Ashwin Malhotra had developed a stunning capacity for empathy within the last year, or this was just the latest–and cleverest–in a long string of traps the Base had set for Sebastian.
So…it was a trap.
“We’re here,” Ashwin said as he put the Jeep into park. His gaze dropped to the food, but he didn’t comment on it before swinging the door open and climbing out.
Here was apparently…nowhere. An empty parking lot surrounded the foundation of what had probably been a factory at some point. Most of the rubble had been carried away, leaving a perilous tangle of debris tumbling into what had been the basement level.
Not the worst place for a body dump, but dragging him all the way out here to kill him seemed like a lot of work when the Base could have easily sent him off with his last recalibration cocktail.
Sebastian pushed the door open and stepped out. For a disorienting moment, the sky stretching out above him seemed dizzyingly endless. He gripped the frame of the jeep’s door until the metal bent under his fingers, refusing to show even that hint of weakness.
Engines buzzed in the distance, and Ashwin pivoted toward the sound. Sebastian tilted his head as the rumble grew closer. Motorcycles. Two. Both pre-Flare. Neither retrofitted for solar. One had the distinctive rhythm of the early century Harley engine. Those were hard to find–collectors had gone crazy for them after the new solar regulations during the Energy Wars. The Base had only had two, both considered the private property of the generals who’d inherited them.
Whoever was coming was important.
“Do you understand the offer?” Ashwin asked quietly.
Did he understand it? No. The offer was incomprehensible. Even calling it an offer was surreal. Makhai soldiers were given orders, not offers. As little sense as his current orders made, Sebastian had no trouble parroting them back. “I’m on six month probationary assignment as secondary mission support to your current long-term objective. You’ve tasked me with assisting the leader of Sector Three in any upgrades I can make to her existing infrastructure utilizing the resources she has at hand.”
“Any upgrades you feel are necessary. I won’t force you to work against your will.” Ashwin watched him as the motorcycles roared closer. “I understand you think this is a trap. I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise. Your orders are to stay in Sector Three and do no harm to its leaders or their people. If you run, I won’t chase you. But you know the Base will send someone else to track you down.”
Yes, Sebastian knew. The radioactive isotope in his bloodstream would make him easy prey if the Base decided they wanted to recapture him just for the pleasure of killing him slowly. “So you just want me to sit there for six months?”
“If that’s how you choose to spend your time.”
“And at the end of six months?”
“If you decide you want to stay in Sector Three, I’ll make it happen.” Ashwin stepped to the side, blocking Sebastian’s view of the newcomers. He pulled his hunting knife from the sheath on his thigh and turned his arm up, baring the unmarked skin above his double barcodes. “And if you want to run at the end of six months, I’ll help you disappear. By our shared blood.”
Sebastian froze.
Few Makhai soldiers shared blood on a genetic level, and their training had hardly encouraged them to forge bonds of brotherhood. But there was solidarity in belonging to a caste that stood outside humanity, to being other in a way almost no one else could understand. On their eighteenth birthday, each of them got the tattoo on their back–the project insignia for Project Makhai. And each of them learned the code.
Don’t ask for a favor unless you’re willing to pay it back. Don’t make a promise you might have to break.
Sebastian shoved up his own sleeve. Above the twin squares of his own barcode, there was one thin scar. The one time he’d sworn to another Makhai soldier by their shared blood. The scar was tangible proof, something they all knew but never spoke of–unless the day came that one of their brothers abused their silent code.
The last man who’d sworn to Sebastian had broken that oath. Ashwin knew that. Ashwin was the one who’d killed him for it.
In silence, Ashwin extended the knife, hilt first. Sebastian took it. The edge was sharp enough to cut the air. He barely felt it kiss his skin, and had to pull back to keep from slicing too deep. Blood welled in a perfect red line above his original scar as he passed the knife back.
Ashwin sliced a matching line in silence. Then he wiped the blade on his pants and sheathed it. “Six months,” he said, pulling a plain, 4-inch by 4-inch adhesive bandage from another pocket in his cargo pants.
“Six months,” Sebastian echoed. “By our shared blood.”
And that was that. Still off-balance, Sebastian smoothed the bandage into place as the bikers finally rounded the edge of the factory and came into sight. There were two of them, the one in the lead small enough they could easily be a teenager. The woman, most likely, the one who ruled the sector now. Sebastian’s focus had never been on Eden and the Sectors, but when he’d gone into solitary confinement, Dallas O’Kane had been the leader of Sector Three.
Apparently revolution changed a lot.
The two bikers parked and peeled off their helmets. The woman looked young–maybe not teenager young, but not deep into her twenties, for sure–except for her eyes. Her eyes looked ancient and angry, and she raked her gaze over him with a stubborn challenge that made it clear she was used to being underestimated and would not tolerate it from him.
Behind her, the man loomed taller, though only by comparison. He was the sort of solid that could take a punch and not flinch, and he assessed the area, the jeep, and both Makhai with the steady gaze of an experienced soldier. Not Base trained, so probably one of the Special Tasks soldiers out of Eden.
An odd pair, to be sure. And neither looked particularly excited to be meeting him.
Ashwin stepped forward. “Six,” he said, inclining his head to the woman first. “Bren. This is Sebastian Montoya.”
Six tilted her head, her gaze climbing over him again, more slowly this time. Sebastian had been stared at in terror before. Everywhere he walked on the Base, people shrank away from him like he was the monster out of their nightmares.
Six just made a perturbed noise. “You sure he’s fractured? He looks a hell of a lot more sane than you ever did. Maybe more sane than you still do now.”
Improbably, Ashwin’s lips twitched. If Sebastian hadn’t known better, he’d swear the man was about to smile. “Along with being the leader of Sector Three,” Ashwin said, “Six is an O’Kane. You’ll discover that none of them are the least bit impressed by the fact that you’re a Makhai soldier. They are, as a group, diagnosably insane.”
“Said the pot to the kettle.” The man didn’t smile, just held out his hand. “How are things, Ashwin?”
Ashwin accepted the handshake with uncharacteristic ease. “Comparatively calm, for the moment. As calm as they can be with everyone trying to plan the big royal wedding.”
Sebastian locked his hands behind his back, forcing his expression to blankness. A thousand miles of empty sky after ten months underground was disorienting, but it was a welcome discomfort compared to the uncertain tilt of the world when Ashwin Malhotra, the Base’s most perfectly formed weapon, said the words royal wedding with a legitimate overtone of harried frustration.
Six burst into laughter. “Yeah, good luck with that. Call me if a fight breaks out.”
“He won’t have to,” the man beside her teased. “Or did you think the leader of Sector Three wouldn’t be invited?”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, hell. I am not ready for Sector One’s version of a fancy party.”
“Few of us are,” Ashwin replied. “We tolerate them for the people we care about.”
“Yeah, that’s what you get for shacking up with an adopted princess.” Six turned to study Sebastian again. “Are you doing okay?”
Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. Ashwin did it for him. “He’s undoubtedly attempting to process the huge amount of conflicting information you just gave him. The last time he met me was several months before the revolution.”
“Ahh.” Six gave Sebastian a sympathetic look. “Yeah, he was pretty fucking scary back then.”
The words were easy and light, but the brown eyes watching him were the kind of cunning that came from finely honed survival instincts. Which made her words ridiculous. Sebastian finally wet his lips and spoke. “You don’t think he’s scary now?”
“Well, sure. He’s got a family, now, and he fell in love. That makes him more dangerous, not less. But he’s a more predictable kind of scary. There’s things he won’t do now, because it would hurt the people he cares about.”
Sebastian studied Ashwin, who endured the scrutiny with outward calm. But the muscles in his jaw were tighter. He’d flexed the fingers on his right hand, the one close to the knife. His shoulders were stiffer, his expression a little more flat.
Their gazes clashed, and Sebastian knew. He knew. There was a part of Ashwin that had considered, however briefly, pulling that knife and ending Sebastian’s life on the spot. Not because Six was lying. Because she wasn’t.
Ashwin fucking Malhotra was in love. Six had revealed that vital vulnerability to one of the most dangerous men in the world. And if Ashwin thought for a second that information might make its way back to the Base, Sebastian would end up bleeding out in this dusty parking lot.
“You’re right,” Sebastian said, the words addressed to Six but meant for Ashwin. A quiet acknowledgment between brothers. “That does make him more dangerous.”
After a lingering moment of tense silence, the man elbowed Six and cleared his throat.
“Sorry.” Six waved a hand. “Sebastian, meet Bren. Co-ruler of Sector Three, for all practical purposes, but don’t let him catch you saying that.”
“Just Bren.” He held out his hand, just as he had with Ashwin.
Sebastian knew his hesitation was awkward. He’d never been like Ashwin, so deeply conditioned that he felt alienated from casual social gestures. If anything his problem had been the opposite. It was a struggle to purge the instinctive urge to connect from his psyche, like the genetic manipulations that had been meant to ease those urges hadn’t taken.
He understood a handshake. But it had been so long since touch hadn’t meant pain. The idea of touching someone else made his skin crawl.
Too late, he began to extend his hand in return, but Bren waved him away. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”
Six’s eyes softened. A little. “If you join us in Sector Three, one thing you’ll learn real fast is that we’re all big on boundaries. Most of the kids in my school came from sad stories or even worse stories. The teachers, too. If you’re broken, a little nuts, and bite people who try to hug you, you’ll fit right in.”
The chances he’d be able to wait out the six months before Ashwin was willing to help him escape increased exponentially if they’d tolerate a hermit who hid in his rooms and never engaged with anyone. He’d fix a few things to earn his keep, that wouldn’t be a hardship. But with that bloody promise burning across his inner arm, one word of Six’s speech echoed in his ears. “If I join you?”
“If,” Six confirmed. “Bren has some questions for you. And I have some for Ashwin. That okay with you?”
Sebastian did the only thing he could. He nodded.
She and Ashwin melted off in one direction. Bren beckoned, gravel crunching under his boots as he took a few steps in the other. “So.”
“So.” Sebastian hesitated. “Special Tasks?”
“Mmm. Then Sector Four.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m supposed to be assessing the level of threat you pose. Why don’t you make it easy and just tell me?”
“Would you take me at my word if I did?”
“Probably.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not interested in how dangerous you are. I’m guessing that answer is extremely, just like it is for me. And Six, for that matter. What I want to know is very, very specific.”
Sebastian could guess. “You want to know if I’m a danger to the students in your school and the rest of your people.”
“Not even close. I don’t happen to think that’s a question you can answer.” He pinned Sebastian with an assessing stare. “I want to know if you like it–the violence. Do you enjoy hurting people, or is it a means to an end?”
Sebastian tightened his fingers around his wrist behind his back. Fire burned through his veins, a warning pulse. They’d tried to burn the guilt out of him so many times in thirty years that it made him physically ill to consider disavowing violence. If he tried, he’d probably puke on Bren’s boots.
“Every tool is a means to an end,” he bit out, each word defiance of the agony eating him from the inside out. “That’s what violence is. A tool.”
Bren tilted his head, then nodded as if Sebastian had answered him, after all. “I only need to know one more thing. How long are you on the hook with Malhotra?”
“Six months.” Swallowing the taste of acid, Sebastian kept his breathing steady. Pain was just an illusion. It probably wouldn’t kill him. “I’ll be here for six months. Then I’ll move on.”
“You give us a week. If you don’t like what we’re doing in Three, your time is yours. Hole up in your quarters. Hell, hibernate, if you want.” He held up a finger. “But I want that week.”
He could tolerate anything for a week if it meant eventual freedom. But better to know now, so he could strategize. “What will my duties include?”
“Don’t know yet. Ashwin had some suggestions, based on your talents and strengths, but Six and I figure it’s up to you as much as it is us. Probably more.”
“Find me something that’s broken,” Sebastian said. “Machines. Vehicles. Tech. Give me something to fix.”
“You’re in luck then.” Bren grinned. “That’s all we have in Sector Three.”