The big Spector broke his somber pose to smile. “Very sharp, Mr. Madigan. I can see why your father was so interested in making you join our ranks.”
“Trust me,” Caden growled. “It had little to do with my intelligence and everything to do with his legacy.”
The Spector bowed his head as though it made perfect sense. “Fair enough. As I said, I’m a senior Inspector. I’ve been with the UDA for nearly twenty years now, and during that time, I’ve worked with many Spectors, including your father, much to my chagrin.”
“And the chagrin of everyone else he comes in contact with,” Kita muttered.
“Though Proctor is a board member,” Taav continued, “he only reached that position because of your grandfather’s nomination that he take the seat. Your grandfather was a much loved and respected man, and when he made the request on his deathbed, it was honored, despite the UDA’s fears of nepotism―”
“Do you have a point, or did you just want us to sit here and learn about UDA politics?” Aralyn huffed.
Taav waved his hand at her patiently. “Madigan has been suspected of involvement in the orachal smuggling and slave trade groups for many, many years, but what we lack is proof. Proof that good men have died trying to uncover. Proof that we nearly had before it was stolen out from under our noses in Gamedes.”
“There’s that ‘we’ again,” Riordan pointed out, even as Aralyn bit back the shame of knowing the part she’d played into getting the datastick with that very proof on it and letting it get destroyed.
It wasn’t enough guilt to bring up the partial list they still had with Proctor’s name on it, however; that wasn’t going to help in the long run, and it was a fact that they’d already known. So she said nothing about the origins of the list they’d been working off of to track down Eladia’s drug and people runners.
“Several of my fellow agents and other… silent… members of the board have sought to prove Inspector Madigan’s guilt in secret, but we have… failed. Miserably.” Taav’s deep voice was heavy with sadness as he spoke. He seemed sincere―but how much of it could be an act? “Now, all that is left to us is an outright declaration against him―and we’re going to need the evidence to back it up. I don’t think I need to explain what will happen to us if Proctor Madigan gets publicly humiliated without proof.”
“Which is where we come in, I assume?” Aralyn asked, brow raising above intrigued eyes.
Taav’s cybernetic implant whirred her direction, though his head remained still. “That is indeed where you come in, Ms. Solari. We have a unique opportunity here, but there is massive risk for everyone involved.”
“Of course,” Kita said, rolling her eyes. “There’s always that.”
“As I said, I can offer you immunity―for past crimes already on record, an offer that nearly made my superiors weep, mind you, given the length of the list”―he sent a baleful look over the group―“but only once we have Inspector Madigan in custody. Until then, you are still runners, you are still wanted, and you will still be criminals.”
“What?” Aralyn and the others exploded at once. She nearly jumped to her feet with the force of her own shout. “You’re telling me we have to sacrifice ourselves as bait while we’re wanted for basically every crime in the solar system? The UDA and local IA forces alone already stop us from going planetside on any of nearly a hundred stations I can think of―so just how are we supposed to hide from them and the assassins Eladia and Proctor likely have on our tail?”
On the other side of the room, the UDA agents passed nervous looks over, but didn’t draw weapons or seem surprised by their outburst in the slightest.
“You won’t be without help. I can even get you started with a better setup,” the Spector said, steepling his big fingers. “We can provide you very realistic fake IDs and something else you don’t have. Something that would make things much easier than hunting down a few names of some losers and drug traffickers from an impartial list.”
Aralyn blinked back in surprise. She hadn’t mentioned the list―or her complicity in the original getting taken off-planet from Gamedes, but Taav knew about it anyway. Which meant he was well aware of how far back the rabbit hole really went for their history with Eladia and Proctor. And in letting her know that he knew, he was telling her something else extremely vital:
That he wasn’t bluffing about any of it.
Aralyn sat back, eyes downcast as she pondered the new information.
“Oh really,” griped Caden, seemingly unfazed by the mention of the list, “so what can you offer us that’s better?”
“An in,” Taav said. “To Eladia’s orachal operation. I’ve got an informant who’s agreed to help get you inside.”
Aralyn turned slowly to stare at Caden. That was certainly not something she’d considered when the big man had suggested working together. It would put them right in the heart of Eladia’s people; give them direct access to what was happening and who was running the drugs. But it also meant they’d have to improvise in the vipers’ den, rather than carefully plan a trap from outside of it. Everything that happened inside had ten times the potential to go wrong; one hundred times the potential for them to die.
A small part of Aralyn didn’t even think they would ever get this far. Now that the possibility was closer than it had ever been before, she found that the kernel of fear growing within her gut had become a huge stone, settled in for the long haul.
They had to try though, didn’t they? She turned and saw Kita giving her a very similarly contemplative look. The four of them had wasted months of their lives trying to decipher the names off the partial list they’d recovered―not to mention the time it had taken to then track each one of the men down, corner them, and get them to brashly refuse to help, even when threatened with torture. And even if she never had to threaten to cut someone’s fingers off ever again, it would be too soon.
“But you guys are Spectors,” Caden insisted. “I know the kind of training some of them go through―what you must have gone through. The special ops courses were insane. You’re way more qualified than any of us.”
“Yeah! Why not just bring in a special team of Spectors and have them go after Eladia? Why get a bunch of criminals?” Kita asked. “You guys have more skills and fire power than we do, and we can’t be worth all of this trouble.” She gestured to the men at the tables who were pretending not to watch the runners as they spoke in low, secretive tones.
“Because sometimes in order to maintain the law,” Taav began, “you have to be willing to break it.”
“Apart from sounding like a bad fortune cookie, that doesn’t make any sense,” said Kita.
“It means,” Taav said, drawing his mouth down into a thoughtful frown, “that the things you’re going to have to do are very, very illegal, and if someone found out a Spector was involved, we would come under uncomfortable scrutiny.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes downcast. “If someone realizes we’re tracking information about Inspector Madigan and word gets out, the group I represent stands to lose everything. Not just our jobs, but our very lives. Proctor is still a high-ranking member of the board. If we were caught secretly investigating him… the sentencing for our Tartarys stay would be brief, to say the least―but not out of leniency.”
“This is just the illusion of choice, isn’t it?” Aralyn asked. “You and your people need your hides protected and a fall guy―”
“Fall people,” Kita corrected gesturing to the others.
Aralyn continued, unperturbed. “We refuse to do this, and―”
“You’re under arrest,” Taav confirmed, “and at Proctor’s mercy in Tartarys.”
“And Eladia remains free, imprisoning and drugging new slaves,” Caden added.
The Spector nodded. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any other options.”
“That’s what I thought,” Aralyn responded with a sigh. “We’re your insurance in case things go wrong, right? Just rogue criminals working on our own, not invol
ved with the UDA at all.” She stood to her feet, still barely taller than the large man even though he was sitting. She had to admit―at least from his perspective―that the plan was smart. They were disposable. Win, and they get their reward. Fail, and they die, no one aware of the UDA’s involvement. “Well, I suppose you have our full cooperation―under duress―Inspector.” She extended her hand for a shake.
The three others wore various concerned looks or angry grimaces, and Aralyn couldn’t blame them. In all likelihood, the mission would be suicide; but then, they’d likely already come to believe that about it anyway.
At least this way we get more ammo and a chance.
“Very good,” said Taav, his smile back in place once more as he carefully engulfed her small, pale hand in his larger one and gave it a firm agreement shake. “We will discuss the details later. Are there any questions you want to ask before we go?”
Kita raised her hand slowly, eyes moving carefully back and forth to the other runners around her.
The Spector stared at her in silence a moment and then gave a beleaguered sighed. “Six-foot-eight.”
She lowered her arm wordlessly and joined Aralyn on her feet. “I think that about covers it,” she said. “Now you mentioned something about IDs…?”
****
Aralyn stared out at the holo-field projected over the doorway of the tiny jail cell and resisted the urge to scream. Across the hall from her, she could see Riordan, and in the cell next to him, Caden paced back and forth, anger vibrating in his every movement. Kita was in the cell on the left of her, but she couldn’t see her. The cells, however, didn’t block out any noise, and she heard everything the girl said just fine.
“Is this for our protection, too?” Kita screamed. A solid thunk sounded, and only a second later, the detention area was awash in colorful curses.
“Like we explained before,” Caden said, rolling his eyes, “you’re not going to be able to break a holo-field with your boot.”
“You will break your foot, however,” Riordan said, trying his best to be practical and helpful; completely unable to see that he was failing at both.
The giant Spector claimed he was needed elsewhere and then disappeared―but not until after he’d given the edict that they would be held until he got back. Aralyn couldn’t help but feel miffed at the one-sidedness of their “contract” to work together, but then again, she couldn’t really judge him for his caution, either. She’d only spent half an hour bathed in the purple glow of the prison holo-field and hadn’t wasted any time constructing escape plots. The details―and the pure, unfettered happenstance―of their escape from both Tartarys and the Lyria V detention room were still unknown, and Aralyn wanted to keep it that way. Let them think we’re way more capable than we are.
Another strangled cry of frustration, and Kita resumed kicking the holo-field once more, punctuating each strike with another curse.
“Just stop,” Caden snapped. “You’re not helping things.”
“You can’t really blame her,” Aralyn offered. “I mean, we’re trapped in jail with half the galaxy looking for us, and totally at the mercy of a UDA agent who may or may not be working for your father, or Eladia, or both.”
“I thought you said we could trust him?” Riordan demanded, glaring at her.
“No, I said he definitely knew what was going on. What choice did we have, anyway? You have to admit, this is all a little suspect. What d’ya think they’re going to do with the vials of that weird orachal in our ship?” Aralyn asked. “That was our one hope of getting to Eladia, and if Taav’s plans fall through―”
“Then we’d have nothing,” Kita snapped. “Just like before. Back to tracking down stupid small fry. We should just go to Eladia’s suspected safe houses directly to find out where she keeps the backups of whatever was on that datastick.”
“That’s way too risky,” Aralyn said. “We all agreed it would be a last ditch effort.”
“Whatever,” Kita grumbled, throwing herself on the floor with a thump.
Caden sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down until he could stretch his legs out on the ground in front of him. “I don’t know. If Taav is on the up and up, then hopefully him and his people can help us figure out what it is. If he isn’t, then I’m sure they’re already off-planet, selling that orachal to the highest bidder or ransoming us to my father for the creds.”
“Or returning it to Eladia with our lives as interest for her trouble,” Aralyn fumed, sinking down onto the solitary piece of furniture in the cold metal room: A stiff cot attached to the wall. She gauged the fullness of her bladder, considered the toilet in the corner, completely open for everyone to see her business, and then tapped her foot, hoping to distract herself from the urgent need.
The not knowing of her situation was always the worst. Not knowing what would happen, who they could trust, where they’d sleep that night, if they’d be safe… Realistically, Aralyn realized that she should take the minor cell time for what it was: An uncomfortable place to rest where, at least for the moment, they were utterly protected. But nervousness pooled in her gut, wantonly refusing her pleas for calmness.
She pressed her forehead into her hands and let loose an aggrieved sigh. To her right, she spied movement and spun her head to face the corridor between her cell and Riordan’s, which was directly across from her. A uniformed agent opened a panel-sized window on Rio’s holo-field cell.
“Put your arms through,” he commanded.
Riordan hesitated only a moment before doing as instructed. The agent turned to face him and spoke in soft whispers.
“Hey, what are you doing to him?” Aralyn demanded.
“Aralyn Solari?” asked the UDA agent, turning to face her. Riordan’s hands were manacled together and he looked faint. The agent was of average height, brown eyes, brown hair; a truly unremarkable face.
So it was concerning that alarm bells went off at the sight of him.
“Yeah,” she said, standing to her feet in a single slow motion. “What do you want?”
The agent keyed a combination into the holo-field and it opened a door-sized portal in the purple light. He lifted a gun from his belt and aimed it at her. Aralyn pivoted her gaze from left to right, desperate to find something to hide behind, but there was nothing. She was the only fish in the proverbial barrel, and there was no way he could miss.
“Eladia sends her regards,” said the agent, a smirk on his face. He raised the gun and took aim.
“Ari!” Caden screamed, scrambling to his feet and slamming his fists on the holo-field in his cell.
“Wait your turn,” barked the agent, barely turning his head.
“You don’t want to do this,” Aralyn tried, her hands outstretched in front of her as though she could catch the energy blasts before they tore through her body. “How are you going to get off the station? Aren’t there cameras? They’ll kill you.”
The agent grinned ferociously. “Wouldn’t you know, it just so happens that the cameras are down for the moment.” He shrugged. “And as for getting out of here, well, there just so happens to be an empty ship in the dock―one that a couple of criminals might have used to escape. Now, it’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions.” He aimed again, pointing directly at her head. “Say goodbye.”
The gun went off.
At the same time, Caden, Riordan, and Kita all screamed in unison, but Aralyn stood in surprise as she watched the UDA agent’s brains explode through the right side of his head. His skull burst like a melon struck with a mallet; pink matter dusted the hall and the holo-fields. He collapsed to his knees like a ragdoll and toppled to the floor where the rest of his brain leaked out through the hole in his head.
Aralyn stared on in horror, eyes wide and jaw open so far it pained her. Amos Taav stepped forward, a gun in one hand pointed at the agent’s corpse, even though it was obvious he wasn’t getting back up again.
“Were you hit?” Taav asked Aralyn, ducking his he
ad to look inside the cell. “Did he shoot you?”
Aralyn felt over her tank top and jacket, surprised to find that no, none of the blood decorating the cell was hers. She shook her head, fighting to keep the contents of her stomach in place, staring in shock at the blast that had missed her entirely and struck the wall behind her just to the left.
“Good.” Taav keyed in the holo-field code and sealed the room, leaving a few pieces of scalp with matted hair just inside the doorway. He directed several other agents to come forward and clean up the body and then pressed another series of codes into the keypad, opening a window at chest level that was big enough to fit a meal tray through. “Give me your arm.”
Aralyn, horrified, moved forward, careful to avoid the potential squish of brain beneath her boots, but still managed to slip on gore. In shock, she stuck her left arm through the tray slot, and watched as Taav grabbed her hand and held up a cylindrical tube, which he then pressed to her elbow and squeezed the trigger. A stinging sensation dug deep into her flesh and Aralyn cried out, slapping a hand onto the holo-field and trying to pull her arm inside. She might as well have been a four-year-old trying to free herself from a steelworker’s grip. He released her and she stared down at the spot where a small droplet of blood pooled from the injection.
“Why are people always putting tracking chips in me?” Aralyn screamed, pressing a hand to the stinging crook of her forearm. She still had the scar on her neck from Tartarys, and the memory of the poison that slipped out of the chip when it had been wrenched out from between Helen’s slightly trembling hands.
“This is for your own protection,” said Taav as he went through the runners and gave them each an injection in turn. “You’ll need to come with me. I’ll explain on the way.”
“You mean like the cells were ‘for our own protection,’ too?” Kita spat. “You son of a bitch! You almost got us killed!”
Three men had entered the hall and were busily carting out the rogue agent’s lifeless body while another two worked quickly to clean up the bits of tissue that had gone Jackson Pollock on the walls and floor. Taav opened their cells and motioned for them to follow him. They did so reluctantly, stepping around whatever bits of the agent they could.
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