Caden opened his mouth to reply, but went quiet and closed it again without saying a word.
Riordan hmmed as if a thought occurred to him and turned to Apollo. “Wait. Ganymede,” he said. “You wanted to know about the safe houses on Ganymede… why?”
Apollo gave a disarming smile. “What? It was nothing. My own personal reasons―”
“That’s right,” Aralyn said. “The reason you agreed to help in the first place. The information Caden had.”
Apollo laughed. “No, it’s not the same. You were going after Proctor Madigan―”
“You mean to tell us that it’s a complete coincidence that you’re trying to get to a UDA safe house on a moon outside of Jupiter… the very place that Eladia might be hiding?” Kita asked, crossing her arms.
Behind her, the boy clung to her leg, watching the scene intensely. At the mention of Eladia, he began to visibly tremble, and Kita put an arm onto his shoulder. Sadness shot through Aralyn at the sight of him. How many others like him were suffering all over the galaxy? How many lives had Eladia destroyed?
“You never figured that we’d actually be able to get anything off of those files, did you?” said Riordan, crossing his arms across his chest. “It was meant to send us on a wild goose chase, wasn’t it?”
“Friends, please,” Apollo began, sweeping his arms around, beseeching each of them. “My reasons for the safe house on Ganymede are my own. I have told you that from the beginning―I have not been dishonest about that.”
“Yeah, well you haven’t exactly told the truth, either,” said Kita.
Aralyn nodded. “Phantom AI,” she said. “Bring up information about Ganymede.”
The computer did as instructed, pulling up a 3D model of Jupiter’s largest moon, as well as the level of UDA involvement on the satellite and other important factors. Everything from research stations to biome habitats to living quarters and even a couple of factories that manufactured items there. One name in particular, Torgvald Manufacturing, stuck out to Aralyn. She reached forward and tried to touch the name on the holo-map, but her fingers passed through.
Caden approached and glanced at the name. “Isn’t that your grandfather’s plant?”
She nodded. She hadn’t seen her family since her mother died when Aralyn was only a little girl. Her father had spirited her away to Mars for boarding school, and she’d never heard from them again. She vaguely recalled her mother’s funeral, and the smell of her grandfather’s cologne. He’d been nice to her. Held her hand the entire funeral, even when her father couldn’t be bothered to because he was using the tragedy to court potential investors. Being with her grandfather was one of the only memories of her family that was pleasant, actually. But after the funeral, they’d cut all contact with her. She’d tried reaching him for weeks, but could never get through. Once her mother had died, so had any connection with them.
She shoved the thoughts aside and returned to scouring information while Apollo bantered half-heartedly in the background about it not being connected. Caden pointed to a city on the moon’s surface not far from the Torgvald factory.
“That’s Aliena,” he said, keeping his voice low. “One of the bigger UDA outposts, and home to safe house Eurydice. Hasn’t been used in”―he did some quick calculations in his head―“probably fifteen years. About the time my father became the Spector for Tartarys, actually.”
In unison, they turned to Apollo, who merely shrugged. “So what?” he asked.
“Set the course for Ganymede,” Aralyn told Caden, glaring at the informant. “You’d better hope Eladia’s not holed up in that safe house, for your own sake.” She stormed past him and went down the hall toward the bedrooms, flopping down onto the couch in the dorms.
She couldn’t believe how quickly she’d forgotten what a scoundrel and all-around untrustworthy piece of crap human being Apollo van Dien was. He’d had no qualms about letting them know from the beginning that he was only in this for himself, but she’d let his occasionally quirky hijinks and stomach-flipping smiles disarm her common sense. He wasn’t an ally; he was someone they’d been forced to work with on threat of death or arrest.
“Won’t be forgetting that again anytime soon,” Aralyn muttered.
The door slid open and in walked Kita and the boy, and they slid into the couch across from her, both silent. Aralyn frowned. Having a kid around would have been bad enough had they just been running some standard illegal items, but was he really better off with them than he had been as a slave? Was he any less likely to be killed by being an unofficial part of their crew now?
Kita looked over at the boy, who was studying Aralyn’s scarred head and touching his fingers to his own. “We should give him a name,” she said. “So I don’t have to just keep calling him ‘Hey you.’”
Aralyn laughed. “Do you think he knows how to write? Maybe he can still tell us his name.”
Kita frowned. “Ari, he’s been under orachal compulsion for a long time,” she began. “I don’t think they ever taught him to write… or to speak.”
Aralyn only stared at her, appalled. “You mean he doesn’t talk because he never…?”
Kita nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. “He seems to understand us to some extent, but… it’s not uncommon for some orachal kids to have problems speaking or communicating. I think the only reason that I didn’t was because I’d learned before I was…”
Aralyn couldn’t respond for a moment. He’d never consciously heard people speak before. He could understand their language because he’d been spoken to in it all of his life, but when it came to forming words of his own… were his vocal chords even developed? The thought of what he must have experienced sent another shooting pain through her.
“Hey,” Kita said, interrupting her downward self-spiral, “back there, on the ship…”
“Yeah,” Aralyn winced. “About that… Thanks. For helping me.” She looked down at the ugly purple and yellow bruise just above the line of the tank top on her chest.
Kita shook her head. “I get it,” she said. “When I see people in those cages, it makes me mad… not like angry mad, but like…”
“Like you want to keep screaming until it all makes sense.”
“Yeah,” Kita said. “When I was still working for Eladia, I kept telling myself that if I ever got out alive, I’d go and retire on an island somewhere. Live out the rest of my life in peace and far away from all of this mess. Thought I would never get involved in anything to do with orachal ever again.
“And for a long time, I did. I ignored the slaves when I saw them. I ran when I saw old smugglers that would recognize me. I pretended like I didn’t see anyone under orachal compulsion. But it always bothered me. You said it before. I knew what orachal did to me, and what it does to other people. I knew, and I did nothing because I was afraid.”
“You had every reason to be, Kita,” Aralyn said. “What you went through… I don’t think anyone who hasn’t can understand.”
Kita shrugged. “I should have done more. I know that’s what you’re feeling right now, too. That you should have done more. Like it’s your fault that Kragg got dragged into this. You blame yourself for a lot of things. I do, too.”
Aralyn was surprised to find tears brimming at her eyes. “Damn, when did you get so philosophical?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been hanging around you melancholic assholes for too long,” Kita said, returning a bit to her spry self.
Aralyn laughed, and they sat without speaking while several magazine and newspaper choices scrolled by on the table between them.
“What about Dror?” Aralyn asked. “For a name, I mean? I had track and field with this kid on Mars by that name. Everyone tried to run faster than him, but it was like he had wings on his feet. He kinda looks like him.”
“Dror,” Kita said with a beaming smile. “I like it. What do you think?” she turned to the boy, who smiled back up at her, his chest puffed out proudly.
Aral
yn wondered if it was the first real name he’d been given; had his mother named him, or just sold him? She tried to force the negative focus away, although it lingered at the back of her mind.
Even if they hadn’t done anything else, at least they’d gotten him out. And now he’d get to experience the galaxy with un-addled sight. His own. For better or worse.
****
Soon after detaching the meteor barge for Ganymede, the Phantom AI announced that there was an incoming transmission from an undisclosed location.
“That will no doubt be Taav,” Aralyn said, contemplating answering it or not.
There was simply no telling, unfortunately, if Eladia or Proctor had figured out that the interruption of their slave auction and the intrusion on the ship had been them. By this point, they’d figured out that the transport ship taking them to Purgatory hadn’t arrived. And that was only if there hadn’t been an alert from the possible double agent that they’d kicked off planetside when they took the damn thing over to begin with.
“Should we answer?” asked Caden.
“We still need to play nice for the time being,” Aralyn said. She turned to Kita and Dror, sitting on one of the seats lining the back of the cabin. “I think it might be best to not have him see Dror for now.”
Kita looked at the boy and nodded. “Can you head to the bunks for a minute? I’ll come and get you when we’re done talking, okay?”
Dror nodded and slid off the sofa, scampering through the room and out of sight.
Riordan sighed and headed for the computer. “I guess I’ll monitor the incoming line then. May as well make sure we’re not being spied on.”
She pressed a button on the display and Taav’s face filled the holo-screen on the windshield.
As soon as he saw the collective members of his team gathered there, a knowing smile lit up his face, and his metal eye whirred.
“I’m glad to see that you are all alive at this point,” he said, deep voice carrying through the entire cabin of the ship. “I thought for sure that you’d be in tatters by now.”
“Your confidence in our abilities is overwhelming,” Aralyn deadpanned. “Is this line secure? It’s connected through the UDA network.”
Taav’s smile grew. “This is my personal line that I pay a team of reformed hackers a lot of money to monitor and maintain. The most secure network in the galaxy, I’d like to think.”
“Our tax dollars, hard at work,” Kita muttered.
Taav, knowing smile still in place said, “And when you actually start paying taxes, Kita Shinkai, your complaint will of course be filed with the appropriate department. Now.”
He picked up a tablet and slid a few frames over, then turned it to face them so they could see Madame DeMarch’s mugshot alongside her son Nialls, the older man who’d set the alarm off, and four guards with giant red X’s over their images, plus at least six more that said only “Detained.” Aralyn shivered at the memory of the attack, losing Kragg, and her freak out. She was directly responsible for the majority of those red X’s.
They’re not real people, she thought to herself. They’re slavers. They don’t deserve your pity.
“Who do I thank for knocking some of the highest profile names on my orachal trafficking list off?” Taav asked.
No one spoke up, but he seemed oblivious to their discomfort.
“How did you know about that already?” Aralyn asked. She assumed that Eladia’s people would have gotten everything under control after they left, but then she looked down at the faint bruise on her arm and cursed. “You’ve been following us. Not just tracking us.”
“I needed to protect my investments,” Taav admitted. “There’s a UDA vessel two hundred thousand clicks out from your location. Remember when I told you I’d back you up if you really needed it? They also stepped in to take care of things on the auction ship―once you all left the area, of course.”
“Somehow, that’s simply not as reassuring as I’m sure you meant it to be,” Apollo said, his voice dripping scorn.
“Ah, Mr. van Dien, I’m so glad to see that you’ve finally learned how to play nicely with the others,” said Taav. “It looks like your info was good, which means I have the immense satisfaction of not stringing your intestines around your squalid little club like garland.”
“Do you guys go to school or something to learn how to be extra creepy when threatening people, or does it just come naturally?” Kita asked, looking between Caden, Apollo, and Taav.
Aralyn almost had to agree with her but pressed on. “Does that mean you were able to get those people out? They evacuated the skilled slaves and many of the others before we could get to the lower levels.” She left out the parts about Kragg. She wasn’t totally certain she wanted Taav to know about it if he didn’t already.
“Unfortunately, we were only able to save a handful of slaves before their last ship left the docks. Still, ten people were freed because of your efforts, so you should feel proud of yourselves.” Amos Taav shifted in his seat. “Now I know you recovered information from the safe in Ms. Galven’s room, because it was cleaned of everything useful in our efforts by the time we got there. Tell me what you found.”
The group eyed each other, as if uncertain to divulge the information. It wasn’t necessarily that Aralyn didn’t trust Taav, but “reporting” their findings to him still felt strange. They’d been forced to work together, certainly, but he wasn’t their boss, and she didn’t know if her hesitance was out of caution or petulance at not wanting to be told what to do or how to proceed with the task they’d been basically living for the better portion of the past year. Somehow, his curiosity felt intrusive; like he didn’t trust them to make the right call.
Like they were being babysat.
But this man was also the one that had turned them loose in the galaxy with loaded guns and one the UDA’s speediest ships, so he must have had some belief in the chance that they could get things done. Or perhaps, she realized, deflated, beggars can’t be choosers, and Taav’s intention to throw them under the bus for any potential fuck up was still the most ominous thing on everyone’s mind.
“It might be best if we hold that to ourselves for a short while,” said Caden, stepping forward. “I understand that your channel is secure, but it’s best not to take risks. By now, I’m certain that both Proctor and Eladia are aware of the fact that we’re not in cells waiting for processing on Purgatory”―he paused a moment and gave a slight smile―“and I’m sure that your shadow crew two hundred thousand clicks out will be able to tell you very shortly, what we’re up to, anyway.”
Taav’s good eye narrowed while the mechanical one focused in and out on Caden’s almost perfectly blank face. Aralyn looked him over with concern. Yes, she’d said some things to him in anger that probably could have been handled better and not left him in a bad mood, but this personality change recently had gone beyond that. He’d been so cold lately; more calculating.
This Caden, who was completely driven by the need to get his revenge, was a stranger to her. Caden seemed to only adhere to his own Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde play these days, and she was never sure which version she was going to get. She wondered if he was hoping to get to Proctor before Taav could step in for the arrest, but she stayed quiet instead of saying so to the UDA agent on the screen before her. For this to end well, they had to get Proctor in custody―not in a body bag. The idea that Caden could become a liability was beginning to fill the same distantly painful place in her brain that the possibility of his betrayal had once occupied. She pushed the thoughts aside.
When it was obvious that no one was going to correct him, Taav looked around the room and said simply, “If I don’t know where you’re going, I won’t be able to be there to help you.”
“That’s true,” Caden began, “but―”
“We’re not giving a direct location over this transmission,” Aralyn cut in. “But I can tell you to perhaps have some people available near Jupiter.”
Riordan sna
pped his head to her, a surprising edge of irritation in his eyes. But he stayed quiet at her intrusion.
Stars, what the hell is going on with him? We’re potentially facing Eladia and he doesn’t want any backup on standby?
“I see,” Taav said, nodding to himself.
Aralyn wasn’t certain if he did see it or not, but she wasn’t going to go on any further about it. Let him extrapolate what he would from that. Hopefully, it would be enough to save them if it came down to it. But then again, hopefully they wouldn’t need him at all.
“Keep a record of this transmission line,” Taav said. “If anything goes wrong, hail it. You’ll reach me directly.”
“Understood,” Aralyn said.
Taav cut the transmission and the screen once more revealed a sparkling of stars in the darkness.
“So, why didn’t we tell him where we were going?” Kita asked once the holo-screen had cleared.
“It’s bad enough having one UDA tail on us,” Caden replied. “But if we go into Ganymede―a UDA safe house, no less―we run the risk of him alerting a network of people on that rock and tipping off Eladia before we even get there.”
It sounded so reasonable that Aralyn doubted her own uncertainty about Caden. But still, something inside of her gut said that it wasn’t all he had in mind. His anger at his father hadn’t gone cold; it had gotten so white hot that he didn’t want anyone else to know how badly it was burning him up inside.
“Then I think we should let him know when we’re there. When we first make our move,” Aralyn said. “That way, no time for one of Eladia’s people to slip word to her―we’ll already be kicking in the front door.”
“I don’t think we need any UDA interference if we can avoid it,” said Apollo. “I agree with the former Spector, for once.”
“Maybe,” Aralyn said. “Rio, you’ve got that transmission number recorded?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Sent it to your wrist module.”
“Okay. For emergencies only, then,” she said, but her eyes flickered to Caden.
“We were in an emergency situation on the auction ship,” Apollo reminded her. “And the UDA wasn’t willing to come in then―what makes you think they’ll want to step in to help us now?”
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