Grand Cross

by Merethe Walther

  In front of the small group of runners stood a crowd of sixteen UDA agents, all carrying at least two weapons on their person. Several had their shock sticks extended and a soft whirring sound as electricity passed through the batons alerted Aralyn to the fact that they were also charged and ready to go. Among them, towering over every man and woman present―even Caden, himself at least three inches above six feet tall―was the cybernetic-eyed giant Amos Taav, a statue chiseled out of jet.

  “Whoa,” Kita whispered behind Aralyn, eyes boggling, neck craning backward to look up. “You think he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the planet?”

  “Caden Madigan,” said Inspector Taav, extending one of the hands from behind his back to take the rogue agent’s in a viselike grip, “you have no idea how I’ve looked forward to meeting you.” His voice seemed to boom against the station walls.

  Caden glared and withdrew from the handshake as several UDA agents came forward to frisk them and a few others went to secure the inside of the ship. Aralyn watched with irritation as two female Spectors―the only female Spectors among the group of at least sixteen―patted down both her and Kita. One of them reached over and plucked the hat from Kita’s head and the younger woman leapt for it.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “That’s mine, by rights!”

  The agent, unperturbed, tossed the hat in with the garbage and other items that were currently being carted out of the ship and dumped unceremoniously on the docking bay floor. The female Spector didn’t even so much as bat an eye.

  “Bye, lil’ pardner,” Kita sniffled.

  It was more than obvious they’d been planning this, and Aralyn felt herself fuming. The last few years certainly hadn’t been kind to her squeaky-clean, never caught before record.

  But that was the problem with running. It wasn’t a matter of if you got caught; it was a matter of when. Every few years someone popped up, gloating fresh off the fumes of their last run about their soon-to-be immortal record, and then just as quickly they disappeared, popping up some time later in a penal colony or work camp. There was always an Amos Taav somewhere in the galaxy. It was just Aralyn’s bad luck that she kept running into them.

  “It’s here, sir,” called one of the agents in the ship, holding up the crate of vials containing the mysterious clear fluid.

  “Shit,” whispered Kita. She didn’t have to say more.

  “Secure it immediately,” said Taav.

  “Yessir.” The UDA agents disappeared once more into the ship with the crate.

  Looks like he wasn’t joking when he said he’s been following us. Must have been getting this ready for ages, Aralyn groused to herself. When the officials were done with the pat downs and the wand screenings, they stepped back and waited for orders. It didn’t look like there was a chance of the runners getting away anytime soon with a slap on the wrist. And running itself was also out of the question—especially given that Taav could probably catch up to them in two steps of his mile-long legs.

  “This way, if you please,” said Taav, sweeping his arm amicably forward to the glass-domed area down a short, wide metal hall.

  Aralyn watched with chagrin as only four agents stayed with the ship and the remaining twelve all accompanied them farther inside. The UDA agent in front of her carried several of their weapons, including the knife from her boot, which irritated her to no end. She studied the Inspector’s massive back and let loose an aggrieved sigh. The knife was no good anyway. If she even tried sticking it in him, he’d probably just swat her like a mosquito and brush the attack off.

  Plunging it into the Spector’s heart seemed like an equally bad idea. His pectoral muscles looked like two boulders beneath what had to be a custom-made uniform. She chewed her lip and tugged at the braid of hair over her right shoulder. They were, at least for the time being, trapped.

  If we end up in Tartarys, she realized, heart sinking with dread, we’ll be at Proctor and Eladia’s mercy. Since Proctor Madigan supplied the slave trade with prisoners from the hellish prison planet, if they were all dropped in there it would only be a matter of time until someone killed them one by one or they were “selected” for the orachal trade.

  Permanently.

  Maybe they’d let me have the knife back so I would have a choice in how long the rest of my life will be, she mused darkly.

  As they walked, the giant Spector made banal conversation about the history of the station and filled them in on various facts. The further into Lavoisier I they went, the more their presence grew crowds of curious onlookers. The former science laboratory now housed families, whose parents worked in the surrounding area as miners and engineers, most likely, or maintenance workers. The station itself held a large number of teens and children too young to work―or still in school―and it was clear that many of them were delighted at the bizarre parade of criminals, since at least it was something fresh and exciting.

  By the time they’d passed through the welcome terminal and cafeteria, the hall splintered off into a cross of four hallways, and people drew close on all sides when they arrived at the intersection and chose the forward path, which blocked entry to the gawkers with two heavily armored and heavily-weaponed guards posted at its entrance. Aralyn let loose a sigh of relief once they’d left the crowds behind and belatedly wished she’d taken a shower that morning, so she didn’t look like she’d been mucking around in engine grease for a few hours.

  She tried to discreetly grab Caden’s hand to get his attention, but a UDA guard beside her snapped, “No touching!”

  Aralyn snatched her hand back and resumed her regular pace with an angry glare.

  “You already frisked us,” Kita reminded the twitchy guard. “What’re they going to do, fuse into a super soldier and fight you?”

  “Shut up,” remarked the nervous soldier. “No talking, either.”

  Though she didn’t look pleased, Kita fell silent.

  There was a definitive edge of wariness sharp enough to slice paper in the group, but Taav continued on amicably, speaking in his deep baritone as they followed the long white hall down past several doors until they reached a double door at the end. He pulled a key card from his belt and scanned it at a small console to the right of the door. The light on the console blinked an affirmative blue and the door unlocked. The guards opened it, ushering them inside.

  They entered a large room that held an airlock leading in to a clean room on the other side. The clean room was obviously an old laboratory, and long rows of tables littered with various instruments took up nearly every available space. Along the back wall were refrigerators containing undetermined substances in beakers, vials, and large glass containers. Men and women in white body suits with white face masks and purple gloves shuffled around the area, the purple-papered booties over their shoes muffling sounds and eliminating the chance of contamination. They worked quietly and didn’t even so much as look up when the UDA retinue entered the space on the other side of the airlock opposite them.

  Inside, Aralyn could make out the crate they’d recovered from the smuggler on Eris. Several curious scientists lifted the vials and studied them intently.

  The room they were in was carpeted with thin beige flooring and looked like it might be a break area for the scientists. There were wall panel vending machines and a molecular reconstituter, which would make the small, vacuum sealed dispensable items their proper shape, temperature, and consistency again. There were a few modern white sofas and cots against the right wall, and near the vending area were several rows of tables.

  Once the door closed and glowed yellow on the console behind them, Amos Taav turned around. His mechanical right eye focused in and out, little electronic noises whispering from it every so often. The soldiers seemed to visibly relax and backed away from the group of runners in their midst. Too frightened to ask what was going on, Aralyn could only stare as they put up their shock sticks and walked away from the four criminals, chatting as they served themselves from the small cafeteria a
rea or rested at the lunch tables.

  “What the hell is happening?” Caden asked, a question that it seemed every runner around him was also dying to know.

  Taav smiled. “Well, Mr. Madigan, we needed to put on a bit of a show for those watching from afar.”

  Caden turned to look at Aralyn, and she shrugged her shoulders in confusion. Riordan still looked as though he might throw up, and didn’t seem inclined to attempt to answer. They stood awkwardly in silence, shuffling from foot to foot.

  “Please, have a seat. Care for any food or beverages?” Taav asked, directing them over to the white sofas. When no one answered, he took a seat himself and waited for them to follow suit. “I’m sure you’re all wondering what this is about and how you can escape before we send you to Tartarys.”

  “There is… some of that,” Aralyn said after a moment. “Are you here on Proctor Madigan’s orders? Because there’s something you should know about him―”

  Taav dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “We’re not here to talk about that.”

  Aralyn deflated.

  “But there are things you need to know about my father,” Caden insisted. “You can’t just blindly follow his orders. He’s not who you thi―”

  “He’s a lunatic,” Riordan interjected. Beside him, Kita nodded wholeheartedly.

  “We’re here,” Taav said, silencing any further conversation, “to discuss your futures. As of right now, you are all wanted for a number of heinous crimes.” He looked over them, disapproval heavy in his one natural eye. The cybernetic one whirred up and down, like he was scanning an invisible list.

  “Illegal arms trading, fraudulent credit laundering, escape from holding. Escape from a federal penitentiary, the evasion of UDA and IA officers, resisting arrest… Theft, the unlawful discharge of weapons within a station… possession of illegally modded guns. Grand larceny of a government vessel, going AWOL and abandoning your assigned post, ignoring a direct order from a superior”―he eyed Caden hard―“hacking into and stealing from multiple banks… There’s also the possession of a crate of questionable origin, which may contain the galaxy’s most illegal substance, and let’s not forget that you’re wanted for murder on Mars and are under suspicion for deaths on Mercury in an ongoing investigation, as well.” He sighed. “Shall I go on, or do you understand the amount of trouble you’re in here?”

  “We get it,” Aralyn said reluctantly. “So just tell us why the hell we’re here and not in some UDA holding cell.”

  At that, Taav’s stern look softened. “As I said, we’re not here to discuss Proctor Madigan” He sized each of them up in turn, but hesitated as he looked over at Caden. “We’re here to talk about how to stop him.”

  Caden’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor, and Aralyn, unable to help it, jumped to the edge of her seat, fingers digging into the arm of the sofa.

  From beside them, Riordan whispered a barely audible, “No way.”

  “You… want to stop him?” Caden asked.

  Taav dipped his large head in agreement. “And I’m going to need your help to do it.”

  Chapter Three

  “What the hell kind of set up is this?” Kita demanded. “First you disable our whole ship, which Rio still isn’t over”―she pointed to the hacker, who’d regained his composure and his scowl once again―“and now you bring us to this cold ass station, which surprisingly doesn’t smell as bad as I thought it would―”

  “Hold on just a second,” Aralyn interrupted, knowing the girl would continue going on forever if no one stopped her. “What she’s trying to ask is: What do you know about Proctor?”

  “And why have you been following us―without ever stepping in, I might add? We could really have used the help,” Caden added. “You have a laundry list of shit we’ve done wrong, but I never once saw a single UDA ship outside of Mercury’s orbit when Eladia escaped”―he narrowed his eyes―“so just why are we supposed to believe a word you say?”

  “To understand why I haven’t interfered in your criminal dash across the system after Eladia Galven, you must first understand who I am and what I’m hoping to achieve, and what you all can hope to achieve from this venture.” Taav spread his hands, placating. “I know that you have no great love for your father, Mr. Madigan, but what I’m going to ask you to do may be painful, even so. Unfortunately, you and your group are the best hope we have of stopping him.”

  “So that’s why you completely disabled our ship and arrested us? If you wanted our help, you could have tried asking first,” Riordan said, his voice dripping with irritation. “Your people didn’t have to destroy my system.”

  “Politics and appearances,” the Spector said, as though it answered anything. “Like I told you, we were putting on a show as much for you as it was for anyone who may have been watching. As for your system, we can replace it with a far superior one.”

  Riordan’s eyes lit up, but suspicion followed shortly after. Still, he shut up and didn’t ask any further questions.

  Aralyn scowled, watching the Spector. She wasn’t absolutely certain it wasn’t a trick, but what would the purpose of such a setup be? To find out what they knew? Proctor didn’t care what they knew―and Eladia was fully aware of what they’d gotten their hands on when they’d stolen the original datastick to begin with. If this was really all some elaborate prank before they got dropped off at the penal colony and sentencing station, Purgatory, she couldn’t see how it would benefit either of the slave traders.

  Unless it’s just to fuck with us… But this is too elaborate, even for Caden’s asshole father. And Eladia would never bother.

  “Okay, so you’re trying to stop Proctor,” she said. “Tell us how you came to be here, holding us hostage under the guise of being arrested.”

  “Oh no,” laughed Taav. “You are entirely under arrest.” At the threat of both Kita and Aralyn exploding into belligerent rhetoric, he held his hand up. “If you won’t help us. That list of charges I read? They’re very real. The UDA system has planetary bulletins out on each of you… except for you.” He looked to Aralyn with a frown. “I had to dig deep to find your information.”

  Aralyn inclined her head, biting her tongue to hold in the scathing remarks about her run-in with Caden’s father on Tartarys. “Proctor Madigan erased my file.”

  “Yes, but not entirely. The UDA has the authority to do that―mostly for protective services―but we always back up our data.” He blinked slowly. “Agents with the proper clearance, like myself, have access to those backups.”

  “You mean you could…?” Aralyn had barely considered the possibility of getting her identity back. She’d thought it lost forever, a parting gift to remember Madigan the elder by. Going to the UDA when they were wanted criminals hadn’t even been an option.

  She knew he was dangling a carrot in front of her, and she still couldn’t help herself from wanting to try and get it anyway.

  “Restore your file? Absolutely,” Taav confirmed. “Just as I could erase this unbelievable list of charges, outstanding prison sentences, and a history of illegal goods smuggling, hacking, theft, and… You get the point. All of you stand to gain from this operation. Should you help us and get the job done as requested―without going off-script―each of you will receive a tidy sum of money at the end, a home on any UDA registered planet, planetoid, or station of your choosing, and a clean record.”

  “What’s the catch?” Caden asked, cynical by default.

  But Aralyn had to agree this time. Her gut told her the price tag would be a big one. In her experience, the UDA didn’t go around offering cash prizes and “get out of jail free” cards for no reason. They were nothing if not practical in their ventures, though the morals could stand a little scrutiny.

  “Wait―why are we the galaxy’s best bet to stop this asshole?” Kita asked, arms crossed over her chest. “If you couldn’t already tell from our”―she raised her hands to form air quotes―“‘laundry list of shit,’ we’re not exactly the most dis
creet bunch out there.”

  Aralyn shrugged, her face drawing downward into reluctant agreement. They’d caused quite a mess on several stations, including Devos, when she’d fired a UDA ship’s weapons into the docking bay hall; or perhaps when all of the prison guards on Tartarys had watched them flee from the “inescapable prison” right out from under their noses. Or maybe when Kita had used a Lyria V guard’s tablet to take her ship straight out of lockdown with all of the soldiers there on high alert.

  “Kita has a point,” she agreed reluctantly. “How are we possibly supposed to do whatever it is you need with a price tag that big attached?”

  “But you were free, were you not?” Taav asked, all seriousness. “You’ve managed to keep off the radar despite being in every ‘net news broadcast from Ceres to Earth with a bounty on your heads that would make Midas weep. You’ve tracked down several of Eladia’s people, and even though she and Proctor are both actively searching for you, you’re not dead and you managed to get hold of whatever that new drug is she’s been pedaling.”

  “That was luck, a lot of the time,” Riordan said, grimacing. “We’ve had more close scrapes than I’d care to count.” He rubbed his arm. Although healed from the break he’d sustained in Tartarys, it occasionally pained him from time to time.

  Aralyn touched her neck and her fingers brushed the puckered skin from Helen’s removal of her microchip. Though her hair was growing back out on the left side of her scalp, the burn mark that ran the length of her head in a straight line above her ear was still just a bald streak of pink and white scar tissue.

  “I don’t care how you did it,” the Spector continued, voice even. “I only care that you did. Truth be told, we set this operation up to capture you months ago when you nearly blew up Devos’s docking bay, and we’ve been waiting for the right time to put it in action.”

  “‘We?’” asked Caden. “Now’s the time you explain who the hell you and the other people you’re with really are and what you’re planning on making us do.” His voice brooked no argument, despite the obvious lack of bargaining position.