Grand Cross

by Merethe Walther

  “Did you even get what you came for?” Kita interrupted, looking up from the screen. “If there’s still something in Eurydice, we should let Taav know.”

  “The safe house isn’t a safe ‘house,’ precisely,” Apollo said. “It’s what she calls her drive. An implant here”―he pointed to the base of his skull behind his right ear―“that contains absolutely all of the most damning evidence Eladia has on every nasty little thing she does. She doesn’t keep records around for lackeys to find. How else do you think she’s managed to keep the entirety of the smuggling ring a secret? The datastick you had originally―the one you’ve been working down for months? That was the only existing physical copy of the drive in her head, and it was almost impossible to get.”

  Aralyn let the gun drop until it was pointing at the floor. “It was you,” she said. “You’re the one who made the original datastick. The one Eladia wanted back. The one we stole from Pris.”

  Apollo, even with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, still managed to be graceful as he bowed from the waist. “Yes. I wish I could say I had more gallant reasons for doing it, but I was on the verge of being arrested and facing smuggling and human trafficking charges, and I was… angry… with Eladia. So I lashed out.” He shrugged. “And then the datastick made its way to you, and the rest, as they say, you know.”

  The image of Josiah crushing the small drive beneath his boot came flooding back to Aralyn. She closed her eyes as the memory and shame overtook her. If she hadn’t been so concerned with trying to blackmail it back to Eladia, they might have actually done some good in Sol. Caden might be free; Kragg might be alive. Absently, she wondered how many orachal slaves died every day, or better yet, were killed by uncaring assholes. Like her. She’d walked by them a million times and never bothered to stop and help.

  And then Eladia had gone and made it personal, and here she was. Worst of all, she knew she only had herself to blame. There was no denying it; Aralyn had been blind. Too busy stamping out her own personal fires and blocking out the pain that she’d refused to see the bigger picture. Everything that had happened as a result of her naiveté rested squarely on her shoulders.

  Once, in Kragg’s garden, he’d showed her a problem he was having with his wisteria and ivy. Both vines had wanted to grow up the same trellis beam, but neither had been considerate of the other. Instead of each of them avoiding the other, they branched out. The ivy had grown over the wisteria, and the wisteria compensated by growing across the ivy. Kragg had tried to discourage them each from crossing to the other side of the beam, but it seemed like they were hell-bent on destroying one another. In the end, both plants had choked, and there was nothing left but a bunch of tangled dead vines and a war-torn trellis between them.

  Both she and Eladia had been so focused on destroying one another, everything else had stopped seeming so important. She’d had the nerve to argue with Caden over his desire for revenge when she’d led a months-long mission of retribution against the foulest woman in the solar system? Sure, Taav’s imperative had legitimized it, and the need to track down and save Kragg had certainly been at the forefront, but because of her decisions, her team had been shattered, her boyfriend had been kidnapped, her friend had been mauled, and her father had been killed. All because she wanted to make Eladia pay for what she’d done.

  “He’s probably lying,” Riordan spat, running a hand through his hair. “Just get rid of him.”

  Worry tore into Aralyn, adding to the guilt and turning her stomach into a whirlpool of self-loathing. Apollo was either telling the truth or he was the most convincing liar she’d ever seen. Was there really no traitor? No other way that Eladia could have tracked them? Maybe one of the UDA agents following them had alerted her… Maybe―

  “Aralyn,” Kita said, eyes flickering up from the screen.

  As if waking from a trance, Aralyn reached out a hand to help Apollo push off of the wall where she’d thrown him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was so certain―”

  “No, Ari, listen,” Kita said solemnly, “don’t lower that gun just yet.”

  Nervousness tickled the nape of Aralyn’s neck. “Why? What do you mean?”

  Kita stood from the computer and raised her gun, pointing it straight past Apollo to where Riordan stood against the wall, chewing nervously at his fingernails on one hand, his other hand tapping against his thigh. He seemed totally lost in his own world, completely oblivious to the fact that there was a gun aimed right at his forehead.

  “Because we still have a fucking traitor on this ship,” Kita seethed.

  When the room went quiet, Rio swung his gaze around, finally noticing that everyone was watching him and there was a gun leveled on his face. “Kita, please,” Riordan said, pleading as he stepped forward. “I―”

  “Stay the fuck where you are, you slimy piece of shit!” Kita screamed, stepping out from the computers and coming around the ephemeris table to stand beside Apollo and Aralyn.

  “No, please, it’s not like that.” Riordan held up his arms, eyes wild.

  “The computer,” Kita said, fighting off sniffles as her eyes blurred with tears. “Look at the logs.”

  With a roaring monsoon in her gut, Aralyn headed over to the computer and looked down at the screen. A series of outgoing messages had been recorded at nearly every stop they’d been to since getting arrested by Taav. The first transmission had gone out only fifteen minutes after they’d gotten control of the Phantom. Aralyn’s hand tightened around her gun.

  “Did you at least have the decency to wait for her to come to you, or did you just go to her on your hands and knees and beg her to save your sorry ass?” Kita spat.

  Riordan looked down at the floor. “The agent… the one Taav shot… He gave me a message. I don’t think he knew what was on it. It was a contingency plan in case he failed in… killing you.” His gaze flicked to Aralyn, but he quickly looked away. “She wanted to know what Taav had us doing and why.”

  “So you were not only willing to let the bastard kill me,” Aralyn said, “but then you just went and started sexting her all the intimate details about what we were up to?”

  “At first, I thought… well, maybe I would just play along. Play both sides and see where it got me, but…”

  “But then you got too far in and Eladia, surprise, surprise”―Kita sneered, gesturing to the computer―“wasn’t actually willing to play the game your way and played you instead. And when you should have just come clean and told us what the hell was going on, you chickened out, pouted, and what, hoped that no one would be left alive to know what you’d done to us?”

  Aralyn swiveled back to face Riordan, her heart beating in her temples, threatening a migraine. “Rio, no,” she whispered, “…please not you.”

  Tears ran down Riordan’s cheeks and he threw his arms over his head. “Of course, me!” he shouted. “Weird little Rio who doesn’t fit in with the others and is only good for hacking. Jokes at my expense. Caden, pretentious prick, always thought he knew better, pulling all that ‘alpha male’ bullshit because he knows how to work a gun trigger better than I do…” He paced a moment, reached out a hand to try and entreat Kita, but she shook the gun at him again. “You wouldn’t have survived without me! I’ve been saying from the start that this was a losing battle. I knew it would never work out―”

  “We fucking got you out of Tartarys! This wasn’t a losing battle; you made it one!” Aralyn shouted as she returned to her previous position and raised her gun alongside Kita’s. “You sat on this ship, looked us all straight in the eyes while you sold us out and gave Eladia everything she needed to set us up. Kragg is dead, Riordan. Caden is gone. This isn’t just on me. This is on you. You nearly killed us all, you son of a bitch!”

  Rio’s mouth hung open, as though he didn’t know where to start or how to say it. He turned to Kita, entreating. “I just wanted to keep you safe, I swear. You were never supposed to get hurt. That was part of the deal, you would be safe―”


  “The deal where you sold out your crew to a slaver,” Kita spat, tears spilling over her face. “You would have let her kill Aralyn. Caden. Apollo. Me.”

  “No,” Riordan insisted, glasses fogging from the heat rising off of his face and the nervous sweat pouring down it. “It was all for us, I swear. She was just supposed to scare the others off. Give Kragg back. She was supposed to leave you alone. She should have never shot you. I’m telling you, I was trying to protect everyone!”

  Aralyn walked over to the airlock and slammed the button to open it, then raised her gun to Riordan’s head. “Get out.”

  He flinched as if stung. “No, please, Aralyn, please―”

  Kita shot; the bolt sunk deep into Riordan’s upper arm, leaving an enormous burn spot through his sweater. He cried out in pain, doubling over.

  “She said to get out.” Kita’s face was contorted with grief. “You’d better take her version of mercy, because I don’t think you’ll survive mine.”

  “I love you, Kita,” Riordan whimpered, clutching his arm. “I just wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to keep us all safe.”

  “Get out,” Aralyn said, gesturing with the gun for him to move.

  He backed toward the airlock and lowered himself out, careful not to jostle his wounded arm, and turned around to face them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aralyn slammed the door closed before he could get out another word. The last thing she saw was the look of sorrow and terror in his face, his gaze searching between the three of them to see if it was a trick.

  Aralyn strode back over to the pilot’s terminal. “Phantom AI,” she said, tapping into the console, “get us orbital and lock transit on the UDA ship heading to these coordinates.”

  “Now en route,” the AI said, and the engines began to burn as Aralyn marched over to the computer table and scanned the screen that Kita had uncovered beside the logs.

  There was a simple chat window open, white lettering on a black background, hidden below some program files clearly meant to obscure it.

  Can’t separate K from the group. Abort the plan. Cannot guarantee her safety, was the last outgoing message to a randomly numbered user interface.

  The reply, which had come in after they’d already gotten off of the ship read simply, too fuckin bad.

  Aralyn turned to Kita. “Are you okay?”

  Kita shook her head and strode from the room to the back without a word.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The familiar hum of the ship beneath her brought Aralyn very little comfort. The crew was shattered. Even if they were to get to Eladia now, kill her, hand her over, it didn’t matter. She’d won. Everything that had made going after her “worth it” had already been ruined. Her crew, her family, her confidence that they would make it through this. Aralyn slouched in the pilot’s seat, watching the screen for details about closing distance between them and the ship. Eladia had gotten nearly a twenty-minute head start on them, but the Phantom was built for speed, and they were gaining, bit by bit.

  “Can I help?” Apollo asked, stepping forward tentatively.

  Aralyn turned and stared at him over her shoulder. “There’s nothing to help with. Grab a seat to hunker down on.”

  “Perhaps it’s not my place, but―”

  “You’re right,” Aralyn interrupted. “It’s not your place.”

  Apollo stiffened, frowning. “I know that you’re upset right now, but I think I have proven I am not your enemy, Aralyn.”

  “You’re in this for yourself, van Dien. Don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise. It’s my legs that don’t work; not my brain.”

  Although current circumstances might suggest otherwise…

  Apollo walked over and took the seat beside her. “Give me a gun and let me help. It’s all I’m asking.”

  With a silent appraisal, Aralyn gestured with her chin to the back of the room. “You’re the one who brought the guns on board. You know where they are.”

  Apollo didn’t quite grin, but Aralyn still recognized the twinkle of a smile in his eyes. He stood and walked over to the last crate and slipped out of the coveralls he’d worn to circulate the docks without suspicion. Beneath that was his normal shirt and pants, and he reached into the box at his feet and pulled out his brocade coat and various pieces of jewelry, reassembling his persona down to the last ring. Finally, he reached in and grabbed his small gun and the throwing knives, tucking everything where it went on his person and then tugging his jacket back into place. “It feels good to be away from the UDA. I would have broken out in hives if we’d had to stay much longer.”

  “You and me both,” Aralyn muttered, pressing a couple buttons on the console to bring up the surrounding map, scanning for the nearest objects that might be the space craft Eladia was on.

  “Her plan was well executed,” Apollo admitted. “I would not have thought of something like this.”

  “You also don’t have a puppet in the UDA protecting your every move, and people who’ll work for you despite knowing who and what you are,” Aralyn reminded him. “Eladia is dangerous on her best days; but we just tried trapping a wild animal. Now she’s going to lash out in whatever way she sees fit.” She stood, readjusting the gun at her hip, trying to work the stiffness out of her spine, feeling the strange bumps and ridges of the grafted skin. Apollo watched her for a moment, then turned away.

  “I… that looks painful.”

  Aralyn glared at him. “You think?”

  “I’m sorry.” He spread his hands, placating. “I was afraid the drive would get destroyed. I should have told you about it. Before all of”―he gestured to her back―“this happened and you were all hurt.”

  “As much as I want to blame you―and trust me, that’s a lot―I can’t. This is my fault. Pris was right; I didn’t care until someone made it personal. Even then I only cared about revenge. I was only interested in pushing my plan. Even when Caden wanted revenge, I was worried about him being a liability. I was the liability. I’m the one who was so caught up in my own personal quest I failed to see that Caden had been poisoned; that Rio wasn’t right.”

  Aralyn looked down at the ground and went silent as the ship’s control panel dinged.

  She wandered back over to the cockpit, staring at the map on the screen.

  “That it?” asked Apollo, walking up beside her. “We’re within range?”

  “Yeah. But…” She searched the panel, then finally found the space on the crystal display that would help. “Why don’t we just check if there’s anyone home first?”

  “Life support systems are in use on scanned vessel,” said the Phantom AI. “But we are too far out of range to determine the number of occupants. Ship manifest recorded one passenger. No ID available.”

  “We got her,” Apollo breathed. “We get her back―alive―and we can bring them all down and disappear from the UDA’s radar for good.”

  “Don’t count on that, yet. We don’t know what could happen―and there’s only one life sign aboard. Where’s Caden?”

  “What could happen?” Apollo asked. “She’s trapped on a ship―alone―and we’re right on her heels. We get her back to Taav and then get the hell out. We find your Spector later.”

  “I don’t know,” Aralyn admitted. “Eladia just so happens to be on board the one ship that Taav’s people couldn’t shoot down or catch first? It just… reeks of something not right. And I told you; trapped animals don’t get nicer.”

  “She thought she’d be better than us―better than Taav. Maybe she just got too confident? Played her hand with Proctor too soon and called in her favors.”

  Aralyn shrugged in reply. Her gut said something was wrong, but she thought she’d been listening pretty well the other times, and that had never worked out for her. “Why start now,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Guess there’s only one way to find out anyway,” Apollo said.

  The muffled sound of movement and a clank drew their attention toward the back.

  �
�Should we get Kita? Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  Aralyn shook her head. “No. Let her have a minute. If we need her, she’ll come.”

  “You don’t want to make a plan or anything?”

  Aralyn considered her response, thinking of their carefully constructed plan on Ganymede. She didn’t bother telling Apollo that she wasn’t planning on bringing Eladia back to Taav―alive, anyway. “If Eladia has a gun, don’t get hit. If she doesn’t, stay out of my way.”

  Apollo smirked. “That simple, huh?”

  “Tell me something,” said Aralyn, changing the subject. “You and Eladia were what, dating? Friends with benefits? You seem to know so much about her and her organization―why not come forward with whatever information you have on how she communicates with Proctor?”

  With a shake of his head, Apollo struggled in silent misery with the weight of the question. “I want you to understand that I’m not trying to protect her. I was… in love with Eladia… but only as much as Eladia can allow herself to be loved, you see. There were parts of her that no one―not even me―was allowed to see. I knew of her meetings with Proctor, but I never where or when, or what they were about. She didn’t tell anyone. Kept it all up here.” He pointed to the spot behind his ear where he’d said Eladia’s drive had been implanted.

  “What did you ever see in her?”

  “A kindred soul, perhaps,” Apollo sighed. “I thought she understood my pain. That she cared.”

  “Did she? Care I mean,” Aralyn asked.

  Apollo shook his head. “She isn’t capable of loving someone. Eladia cares about one person and one person alone: Herself. She would let everyone around her take the fall or even die in order to preserve that. The only thing she wants is to win; everything else is unnecessary.”