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  Event Horizon

  Event Horizon

  Dionysus Trilogy Book 2

  Beck Todd

  Rebecca Todd

  Copyright © 2022 by Beck Todd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Printing, 2022

  In memory of my grandfather

  Robert N. Ratcliff

  (1927 - 2013)

  Also by Beck Todd

  The Dionysus Trilogy

  Dionysus

  Event Horizon

  The Gadyeni Cycle

  Ravens in Flight

  1

  First Snow

  Freshly fallen snow crunched beneath Dakota Allerson's feet. The first snowfall of winter, and the last snow he planned to see on Hellespont. Time for him to move on.

  He had lived in half a dozen cities during the year he had spent on the trade world. Local authorities had become suspicious of him twice, forcing him to skip town in the middle of the night. So far, the authorities here in Tianjin had overlooked him, but his gut told him not to press his luck.

  He had discussed it with Uriel the day before, wondering how much longer should stay on this world. The angel replied that it was time to find another one. Staying on Hellespont would only prolong the cycle: new town, new job, stay for a month or two, then leave again. Dakota had packed his remaining belongings in his backpack and made the fifteen-kilometer trek across town to the spaceport.

  Tianjin's spaceport was nothing more than a wide, open area at the city's edge. There was no permanent building to buy tickets or schedule flights like on Lyceum or Dionysus. You had to walk up to a craft and hope its destination was close to where you were heading. Part of Dakota liked the randomness. That made it harder for him to be followed.

  The spaceport was now less than a kilometer away. Snowflakes dotted Dakota's jacket and black hair, and his breath streamed out in a white mist. His numb legs continued walking. He had no destination in mind, deciding to leave this one up to fate.

  "Hey," someone called out. Dakota peered out of the corner of his eye. A tall, thin man wearing clothes that had been torn and repaired multiple times was leaning against a wall, glaring at him. Dakota's intuition told him to keep walking and not to stop until he reached the port.

  "Hey," the man called out again. "I'm talking to ya."

  Dakota ignored him. An uneasy feeling crept up around him, invisible hands clawing at his skin.

  Another man, similarly dressed in worn-out clothes, rounded the corner and approached Dakota, saying, "My friend's talking to you."

  Dakota froze. He glanced back at the first man, who now stood directly behind him. The second man had been joined by a young woman. All three glared at him. "What do you want?" Dakota asked Man Number One.

  "I like your watch." He smiled, revealing two missing front teeth. "Give it to me."

  "Get lost," replied Dakota, pulling his jacket sleeve down over his watch. He stepped to the side but was blocked by Man Number Two's arm.

  "Don't be rude," said the woman, positioning herself behind Dakota. Her oversized coat reached down to her ankles and covered her hands. "My friend asked nicely."

  "It's not for sale." Dakota pushed the second man's arm out of the way. Even at his most desperate, he never even considered selling John's watch. No way in hell he'd hand it over to these people.

  The woman kicked Dakota in the back of the knee and pulled away his backpack. Dakota slammed into the ground, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of the impact. Pain shot up and down his right leg.

  The two men lunged at him, the first shoving him onto his back and pinning him down. His knee dug into Dakota's diaphragm. The second grabbed his wrist. He felt his shoulder pop. Was it dislocated? No time to think. Dakota balled his free hand into a fist and punched the first man in the side of the head. The blow knocked Man Number One off balance. Dakota backhanded him in the jaw, causing the man to land on his side.

  Dakota regained his footing. His knee throbbed, and the area underneath his sternum ached. Man Number Two maintained his vise-like grip on Dakota's wrist. He had trouble unclasping the watchband, otherwise he would have been gone in five seconds.

  "Let go!" Dakota ordered, grabbing Man Number Two by the shirt, but he refused, determined to obtain his prize. Man Number One tackled Dakota at the waist, causing him to lose his balance. All three of them were back on the ground. Dakota yelled as Man Number One's entire weight fell on him.

  "Hurry," the woman said through her teeth. Dakota glanced up. They had drawn the attention of a small crowd, mostly locals and port workers. If the fight lasted much longer, it could draw the attention of the police as well. Neither Dakota nor his attackers wanted that.

  Man Number Two punched Dakota in the jaw. His teeth clicked down on his tongue. He tasted blood. The man cried, "Dammit, Lana, help us!" Dakota returned the blow. The growing crowd roared its approval. The man lost his hold on Dakota's wrist and fell to the side. Dakota elbowed Man Number One, who still pinned him down, in the face. Blood burst from the man’s nose. He laid on his back, hands covering his face.

  Dakota scrambled to his feet and immediately regretted putting weight on his right leg. The pain in his knee screamed. Favoring his left leg, Dakota took a few steps back. He checked his wrist. John's watch was still there. The band wasn't even loose. He scanned the ground and saw his backpack lying close by. He reached for it, but Lana was quicker and scooped up the pack. She held it up like a trophy.

  "I'll trade ya the bag for the watch," she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

  Dakota focused on her mind. The trick Seth had taught him had proved to be invaluable. Images and memories flooded Dakota's mind, all the information he needed and more. "Your name is Lana Dietrich. Your mother's name was Paula. You never knew your father. He died before you were born. You've been with David and Lyndin," he pointed to his attackers, "for almost two years. Your loyalty to them will only last as long as you can benefit from them. You'd turn them in if you needed to. Or if you just felt like it."

  The smile on Lana's face faded. Her complexion paled. She looked at her two partners, who had regained their footing and eyed her suspiciously. David's broken nose still bled. She then eyed the watchful crowd. The group murmured, eyes shifting from Lana to Dakota.

  "How did...?"

  "Give me my bag." Dakota extended his hand. Lana threw the bag in his direction and staggered back. David and Lyndin flanked her sides. Lyndin rubbed his jaw and winced as his hand went over a sore spot. Both men shared a weary glance, just as baffled as Lana.

  "Come on," said Lana. The three of them disappeared into the nearest alley.

  Dakota picked up his backpack, mindful to keep most of his weight on his left leg, and slung it over his shoulder. He looked back at the crowd which was dissolving as quickly as it had formed. They did not seem so interested in Dakota's display of his abilities. Con artists and body language readers were common on this part of Hellespont. Someone detailing a stranger's past was nothing new.

  Walking past the dwindling crowd, Dakota froze. One on-looker, a man in his mid-thirties with shoulder length, pitch black hair and a very pale complexion, caught his eye. In the middle of the man's chest was a black mass. It rested over his heart, pulsing to the rhythm of the man's heartbeat. Dakota's heart raced, pounding against his bruised ribs, adrenaline flooding his body. His lungs felt constricted, as though they were caught in a vice.

  Dakota had seen a void like that only once. A planet-sized mass slowly consuming Dionysus, the people oblivious of the danger.

  The man's dark eyes locked with Dakota's blue ones. He smirked and walked away. The black mass followed him, forever fixed in place. Dakota's heart rate and breathing slowly returned to normal as the man moved further out of sight, disappearing around a corner.

  "Leave before someone else likes your watch," said Uriel. Dakota took the guardian's advice and continued walking towards the spaceport.

  Narrow streets crammed with buildings gave way to a wide, empty lot, large enough to fit a dozen merchant level crafts. Seven crafts of varying sizes rested in a semicircle. Dozens of people milled around the area, loading and unloading supplies and making all the necessary transactions. Most supplies were in the form of standard sized crates with numbers on the sides. But one craft was unloading chickens, three birds to a cage. A port worker cursed as one chicken pecked at his hand.

  "Rough day?"

  Dakota turned to his right and saw a young woman, no older than himself, standing in front of a medium-sized transport craft, the second to last one. She had warm, dark brown eyes and a skin tone to match. Her dark gray coat reached down to her knees and appeared new. Her curly black hair was tied in a bun at the nape of her neck.

  "You could say that." Dakota smiled. Lyndin must have hit him hard enough to leave a decent bruise. That and the fact that he was limping. The knee didn't feel broken. Probably a strained ligament.

  "Are you looking for work or passage?" she asked, returning the smile.

  "Both, if possible."

  "Guess you came to the right place," she replied, pointing her thumb at the craft. "What's your experience?"

  "I worked for a mechanic once. But I mostly did odd jobs."

  "Perfect. Are you okay with space travel?" she raised an eyebrow. "If not, you should look elsewhere."

  Dakota thought it over. He sensed nothing malevolent from t
he young woman. She seemed much friendlier than most people he had encountered on Hellespont, and he wanted off this world. He asked, "How often do you travel from planet to planet?"

  "As often as jobs come. Expect to be in space around seventy-five percent of the time."

  His chances of being arrested while in space were practically zero, and moving from one world to the next without buying a ticket at every point was far less risky than the alternative.

  "Sounds great."

  The woman extended her hand. "Welcome to Event Horizon. I'm Cassiopeia Rosen, but everyone calls me Cass."

  Dakota shook her hand and introduced himself. "I'm Nate Kennet." Saying the name came naturally. The first few times he had called himself by the new name, he almost said "Dakota Kennet" or "Nate Allerson". After a couple of months, it was as though he'd been called Nathan Kennet his entire life.

  "When do I start?"

  "As soon as my boss comes back and approves of you." Cass looked past Dakota and into the crowd. More people walked around the port. Dakota spied two people who had watched the fight, but they looked in the opposite direction. Cass pointed into the crowd and said, "Which is right now."

  Cass's boss, a woman in her mid-forties with dark brown hair and a scar splitting her left eyebrow in half, maneuvered through the crowd. She was joined by the pale man Dakota had seen not ten minutes ago. The darkness still rested over his heart. The man locked eyes with Dakota and smiled. He fought down the impulse to run.

  "Who's this?" Cass's boss asked her, studying Dakota with her brown eyes.

  "Our new hire Nate Kennet." She said to Dakota, "Nate, meet your new boss, Margo Symms."

  "Don't make promises so fast," Margo warned her. Dakota felt her eyes scanning him, peeling back the layers. She asked, "Are you over eighteen?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Nineteen." Dakota did not regret adding a year when he got the new identity on Fortuna. Job options were more plentiful for ages eighteen and up.

  "Someone taught you manners," Margo observed.

  "And how to fight," added the pale man. Margo and Cass looked at him for an explanation. Dakota wished he could disappear. "He's the kid from that fight I told you about."

  "You can fight hand to hand?" asked Margo. Dakota nodded. Blood rushed into his face. "You aren't skipping out on the draft, are you?" Back in Marz, the High Lord of Novatera had enacted a draft in order to aid the war effort. The republic-wide war had begun a year earlier on Helios. As their victories increased, other planets joined in, wanting their own independence. The High Lord sent troops to those worlds, believing that the rebels would quickly be subdued. He could not have been more wrong. The Novateran army and navy were too thinly stretched to do any good. A draft seemed like the best solution.

  "No, ma'am," Dakota replied. Months ago, he heard draft recruits were coming to the city he was living in. He skipped town that night. He doubted his name was in the public record, but better safe than sorry.

  "Good. We don't need any trouble from the authorities. Consider yourself hired. Cass can show you to your room. Donovan, come with me," she said to the pale man. The two entered the craft via the loading ramp and into the storage area.

  "Where are the brothers?" Cass called out.

  "Taking care of business," answered Margo. "We leave as soon as they get back." She and Donovan climbed the short flight of stairs leading away from storage.

  "How many people work here?" Dakota asked Cass. Donovan had a void over his heart, but Margo and Cass were clear. Would the other employees be like them, or like Donovan?

  "Six including you." She started up the ramp. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

  2

  Messages

  The Event Horizon exited Hellespont's atmosphere an hour after Dakota was hired. The brothers, Hugo and Eli Carnaki, had raced into the craft, Hugo laughing his head off and Eli out of breath. Hugo called out to Margo, telling her to fly away as fast as possible. Rolling her eyes, she did so without hesitation.

  Once the craft was a healthy distance from the planet and the autopilot engaged, Dakota was introduced to the other two crew members. At first, he was not convinced that they were brothers. They shared the same low cheekbones and oval-shaped eyes, but that was it. The older brother, Hugo, had a fair complexion with sandy hair and emerald green eyes. Eli's complexion was olive with dark hair and clear blue eyes, and he was a head shorter than his lanky sibling. Dakota got the impression they were half-brothers. Same mother, different fathers.

  Dakota's first day of work was uneventful, not that it was anything to complain about. Margo informed him that the real work would begin in five days when they landed on Troia. Cass showed him around the craft, notably the storage area which occupied most of the lower level, the navigation room, and the living quarters: six small rooms lining the hallway, three on each side, and a larger room at the end. The captain's quarters.

  He placed his backpack in his room, which was between Eli's and Donovan's rooms and across the hall from Cass. He then joined the others in the combination kitchen and living room. The space contained an eight-person table, a sink and stove, some overhead cabinets, a television screen mounted on the wall, and a couch. But no windows. The craft felt much smaller because of their absence.

  Margo sat at the head of the rectangular table and addressed her crew. "Another successful job. Everything seemed to go well." She glanced over at the brothers. Hugo smirked, and Eli averted his eyes. "Seemed to. You two might have gotten a laugh out of it, but times have changed. Be more careful when we're on Troia. Security is stricter there. We don't need any trouble."

  "Understood," Hugo answered for both of them, a smirk plastered on his face. Eli stared at the faux wood-grain tabletop, tracing the dark lines with his index finger.

  "You might get replaced if you don't," Donovan warned Hugo, smirking and taking a sip of his drink. They sat across from one another, each on one side of Margo.

  "How's that?" Hugo leaned forward.

  "Nate there is a con, too," he pointed down the table. Dakota sat at the end, next to Cass.

  Hugo arched an eyebrow. "So that's why you were hired."

  Dakota's face reddened and burned. He fidgeted in his seat and replied, "I'm not really a con artist—"

  "Then why did Donovan say you are?" Hugo asked.

  Dakota shrugged. The void continued to pulse over Donovan's chest. He was the only person on Event Horizon with one.

  "Are you screwing with me?" Hugo asked Donovan, not amused.

  "No. The kid read some girl's body language. Freaked her out."

  "And you did that for fun, or what?" he asked Dakota.

  "I just said some random stuff," Dakota answered. He felt uncomfortably warm, and his jaw and right knee throbbed. Never had he used his ability for fun. "I got lucky, I guess. She was going to take my backpack."

  "I guess you're a good guesser, then," said Hugo, not convinced. Dakota needed to be careful about what he said around him.

  "Regardless of what Nate did," interrupted Margo, "we have more important things to discuss. When we get to Troia, Hugo and I will look up our regular clients. The rest of you will deal with anyone who wants to trade. Teach Nate what to do. You look like a smart kid. Shouldn't take too long for you to catch on."

  As Margo spoke, Dakota kept one eye on Donovan. The other man stared at him the entire time, observing and scrutinizing his every move. He would have given anything for Donovan to have held his tongue, to have not brought up that fight. Why hadn’t he been more careful?

  Margo ended the meeting, and Dakota followed Cass back to his new room.

  "There's a built-in communication system in your screen," Cass explained, pointing at the clear panel on the wall. "Feel free to use it any time, unless Margo says otherwise."

  "Does she say that often?"

  Cass shook her head. "No. Just when we're close to military crafts. It interferes with their communications."

  "Got it."

  She exited the room and went down the hall. Dakota looked around the windowless room, just large enough for a single-person bed, desk, two storage bins, and a small shower and toilet separated from the rest of the space by an old curtain. The room had a musty smell. A fine layer of dust covered the desk and the top storage bin. Dakota sat down at the desk and stared at the blank screen.