Aralyn took a step back; pointed the gun at Eladia, then moved it down to her heart. Everything in her screamed that she should end it. The darkest parts of herself whispered that it would feel like retribution to watch the shocked look in the shark’s face before it was nothing but a pile of blood and bone.
“I’m always going to wonder,” Aralyn began, repositioning the gun to Eladia’s face, “just what exactly was going through your head before I put a bullet through it.” She smiled. “But I can live with that.”
“What about everyone else, Ari?” Kita insisted, brushing past Apollo. “What about Dror and all of the people like him… like me? The ones that are still under orachal. The ones who will stay under orachal if we don’t get that bitch to tell us what she knows.”
Eladia took the last drag of her cigarette, then flicked it over across the table where it rolled along the floor. “You think I’ll tell? Not likely.” She chuckled, spit some blood to the floor. “I’ve withstood a lot more than some fucking torture.”
“Not the head, Aralyn,” Apollo reminded her. “Otherwise we cannot get the drive out safely.”
Eladia snarled at him. “You’re a goddamn coward and a traitor,” she seethed. “Have some balls for the first time in your pathetic life. Do it yourself!”
“I did what I needed in order to survive,” Apollo spat. “And I’m not the one who betrayed you―not at first.”
Eladia let out an obnoxious, loud laugh. “Good riddance. You two deserve each other. Oh, and just so that we’re clear, you’re not getting anything off of the drive if I die. It’s a failsafe measure I’ve recently had installed.”
“You’re lying,” Apollo snarled.
Eladia shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to find out once for yourself once this bitch pulls the trigger then, won’t you?”
A whispered curse crossed Aralyn’s lips. Since Kragg died, one of the only remaining dreams she’d had was to be in the exact same situation she was in now. A gun to Eladia’s head, the woman devastatingly defeated. She wanted nothing more than to end the bitch’s pathetic existence; bring her reign of terror in Sol to an end. But could she just ignore everyone else that had suffered at her hand? She turned briefly and looked at Kita, whose face was filled with concern. Kita had been imprisoned at this woman’s order. She’d been hunted, drugged, and used; had seven years of her life stolen, and here she was, asking Aralyn to see the bigger picture and save Eladia.
I always wait until it’s personal, don’t I?
Aralyn leveled the gun at her. “You deserve to die for everything you’ve done.”
Eladia started to speak, but Aralyn cut her off.
“Shut up. What I was saying was that you deserve to die for what you’ve done… but I’m not going to be the one to do it.” She lowered the gun, a snarl on her face. “I won’t give you that satisfaction.”
Eladia glared at her, and for once, there was a tremor of fear in her sharp eyes. “Bitch.”
Aralyn raised the gun and shot her in the thigh, watching the surprise explode across her face as she doubled over at the pain. “But I never said I was the bigger person.”
Kita ran forward and enveloped her in a tight hug―a bit too tight, thanks to her prosthetic―but Aralyn didn’t complain. “I’m proud of you,” she said, letting go.
“You were nicer to her than I would have been, in your situation,” Apollo agreed, clutching his wounded shoulder with a grimace.
Aralyn stared down at the floor, then shook her head. “Get her tied up and stow her somewhere, then break out the medigel and let’s get these wounds treated.”
Kita yanked Eladia forward with a single pull of her prosthetic and Apollo took hold of her other arm, looping it around his neck to a flurry of her curses and threats. They walked her down the hall toward the brig, and Aralyn breathed a sigh of relief, although she could still feel a terrible knot in her gut.
Caden was safe; she was fairly certain that Eladia hadn’t been lying about that. But leaving her alive didn’t feel like a victory―no matter how many times Aralyn reminded herself that it was supposed to be. She watched Kita and Apollo walk Eladia out of the cabin, limping and cursing as she went. Kragg’s killer was alive. And Aralyn had the chance to get revenge and instead chose to let her walk away, albeit with only one good leg. But still… it didn’t feel like a win to her.
But she was certain that killing the woman wasn’t what Kragg would have wanted, either way.
Aralyn sidled over to her pack, which was on the floor where she’d left it―although closer to the airlock now―and pulled out the box of ashes. She sat down in the pilot’s seat and set the box in the co-pilot’s seat next to her before letting out a long sigh. “How about one more run, old man?”
Aralyn turned to the control panel and set in a course for Ganymede.
Chapter Sixteen
They’d confirmed with Taav on the way that they were coming back, but it was still shocking to see what seemed like an entire platoon of UDA agents on the docking platform when they arrived. Even more shocking was that they weren’t waiting to arrest Aralyn for once.
That was a good feeling, at least.
As they extended the gang plank, Aralyn grabbed hold of Eladia’s arm and guided her down into the waiting grasp of Taav’s agents, each of them wearing a smile almost bigger than their faces. Aralyn adjusted her oxygen mask, feeling overwhelmed by the excited officers waiting for them. It was like walking into a swarm. She shoved Eladia forward, both of them limping, though for vastly different reasons, and then filled in Taav on what had happened while nearly twenty-five agents from Aliena escorted her to the holding cells in town.
Aralyn watched her go, surprised to see her turn around and lock eyes one last time with her, almost as though pleading. The look disappeared in an instant, however. She forced herself to focus on reporting everything to Taav, leaving out the part where she’d held a gun to the woman’s head and threatened to end her. Kita and Apollo stood next to her, silent and stoic behind their masks.
When she was finished, Taav clapped her on the shoulder and guided their group toward town.
“Great work, Solari, but you know what the deal was for―”
“I know,” Aralyn said. “We get nothing unless she gives you Proctor.”
“This is a great first step, though,” he admitted. “You’ve done the UDA a bigger service than you can even realize. Eladia Galven is one of the most dangerous people in Sol. Getting her behind bars where she can’t cajole or extort people will be a great relief for many people out there trapped under orachal. Now that she’s in custody again, payments will stop going out. And most of the smugglers will move on to other work.”
Aralyn’s brows knitted together. “Any word on where Proctor might be?”
Taav shrugged. “You’ve done enough for now. I think it’s best you stay here, at Eurydice, so that we can keep an eye on things. Now that Eladia’s in custody, I’m expecting him to make a move.”
Aralyn didn’t answer, unwilling to explain her reasons for going after Proctor. They walked the same way they’d come through Aliena, heading initially for the safe house, but a shuttle landed in the open street in front of them, kicking up dust as it descended. Through shielded eyes, Aralyn saw the door open and Dror ran out, Torgvald sitting in the seat on the shuttle, a huge smile on his face.
Dror ran forward and grabbed hold of Aralyn’s arm, then raced over and took hold of Kita’s, pulling them back toward the small craft.
“I hope you don’t mind, Inspector,” said her grandfather. “I saw them return a little while ago and wanted to come greet them myself.”
Taav nodded easily and held a hand up to say goodbye. “Remember, Aralyn. Don’t go anywhere yet.”
Aralyn pressed a hand to her chest, feigning surprise. “Me? Break the law? Inspector Taav, I simply don’t know what you’re talking about.” She adjusted the pack on her shoulder and got on the shuttle.
Once they were all on boar
d and the door had closed, Aralyn, Kita, and Apollo all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“I never want to be near that many UDA agents at once again,” Kita moaned, planting her free hand on her forehead. “Even if we are the good guys for once.”
“Are you… Caden?” asked Torgvald, staring at Apollo.
“Granddad, no,” Aralyn said, aghast. “This is Apollo van Dien. He helped us. Sort of.” She grinned at him as she spoke.
Apollo bowed from his waist and shook her grandfather’s hand. “An honor to meet you, sir.”
Torgvald smiled. “I know this is a temporary visit―but can I assume you’ll at least be staying for dinner? It’s nearly five, Terra Standard. We can have a meal before you go back out, right?”
Aralyn met his gaze with a grin. “You heard the big man. We can’t go anywhere for a while.”
He chuckled. “I told you; just like your mother. Impulsive, as always.”
“Taav wants us to lay low for the time being… won’t he know we’re gone since he, y’know”―Kita mimed an injection into her arm―“and can follow us wherever?” She blinked, then laughed so hard she nearly started crying. “The tracker was in my arm―my other arm. He’s going to think I’m here no matter where I go.”
Aralyn couldn’t help but smile at her outburst. The situation wasn’t at all funny, but for some reason the levity broke the strain that had started when they’d boarded the ship and found out about Riordan’s very real betrayal. She paused, realizing that she hadn’t seen him among those gathered in the crowd.
“Kita, do you think Rio―”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” Kita said. She was still smiling, but her eyes hardened just a touch. She turned to Dror and scooped him up into a tight hug. “Not when we’ve got so many other things to talk about, right?” He smiled up at her, snuggling closer.
“I can’t believe we did it. Eladia’s in UDA custody―and not the kind that will help her escape, either,” Apollo said. “I still don’t like being here though. Too many spooks for my tastes.” He shuddered.
Torgvald put a hand up to his chin in thought. “You know, I might have a way for you to take out those tracker chips and keep them working.”
Aralyn grinned at him. “That sounds like a fine plan to me. But first, dinner would be lovely.”
Chapter Seventeen
The shrill pitch of Proctor Madigan’s whistle echoed off the sterile white walls around him, broken only by the strike of military boots shined to a pristine glow. He strode down the hall, coming to a halt at the last white door on the left, staring out of the small, square porthole on his right that overlooked the space above Ganymede, the aurora barely visible, just out of frame. Behind him, two UDA agents lay dead on the white floor, still-smoking holes where their chests had once been. He tugged a piece of lint from his uniform jacket.
Better make this quick.
He reached over and punched in a six-digit code into the keypad next to the door, waiting for it to hiss open. He stepped over the portal’s lower mantle and entered the glaringly bright room. There was a polished metal table in the middle surrounded by four metal chairs that had been bolted to the floor, ankle restraints not far from their legs. A small cot took up the space to his right, and a simple toilet was in the far back corner on the left behind a barely there “privacy screen.”
He took a few steps in, then turned to the doorway and called out to the man behind him, “Wait there.”
The door slid closed again and he took a seat across from Eladia at the table, a smug smile on his face as he resettled his pince-nez on the bridge of his nose.
“I was wondering how long it would take you. Three days? That’s lazy, even for you, Proctor.” Eladia took a drag of her cigarette, held it over a small whirring vacuum built into the table and let it whisk her smoke away. “I would have sent someone in three hours.”
Her piercings had all been removed, her hair stripped down to its natural brunette color, slightly dull from the chemical cleanse. Her eyes were makeup-less; even her nail polish had been removed. She seemed a shadow of herself, but not in the sense of someone giving up. It was more like a snake coiling before it strikes.
“Yes, well,” Proctor began, clasping his hands on the table in front of him, “I can see your way of doing things clearly wasn’t the most efficient, so I’ll take that as a compliment. They seem to be treating you nicely―though I must say, white really isn’t your color, I’m afraid.”
“You didn’t just come to gloat,” Eladia growled. “So get it over with. We both know why you’re here.”
“But what fun is there in just killing you off so quickly?” Proctor asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting for this day for many years; we can wait five more minutes, can’t we?”
“They’re onto you, y’know. It’ll only be a matter of time now.”
“Do you really think I care? A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep.”
“Yeah, but even sheep can be deadly when there’s enough of them to run you over.”
Proctor pulled out his gun and set it on the table near his chest, just out of reach of Eladia’s cuffed hands. “I wish I could say it’s been fun, but the truth is, you’ve been a constant, irritating itch for longer than I care to admit.”
“There’s a cream or something for that, I’m sure.”
Proctor scowled. “So vulgar; so crass. You’re an abomination unfit for society, do you know that?”
Eladia dropped her lip into a pout. “Aww, poor liddle Proctor,” she said, voice dripping scorn. “Someone inconvenienced his pwans.”
“Speaking of which”―Proctor removed one of the aerosol dispersal sprayers from his pocket, put a vial into the canister slot, and then sprayed it directly in Eladia’s face.
She blinked for a moment but was otherwise silent.
“Well? Say something.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Eladia said with a snarl. She stubbed her cigarette out on the table and reached for another one, wiping the orachal spray from her face. “That shit doesn’t work on me anymore. You know perfectly well I’ve been immune to it for years.” She blew out the smoke and glared daggers at him. “And I guess I have you to thank for that, don’t I?” She leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Or did you forget what happened once I woke up from that wicked little orachal dream you had me in?”
Proctor tucked the spray back into his jacket pocket. “Too bad. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be messy; that you might still be useful for something, but I suppose we can’t win them all, can we?”
“Hey Proctor,” said Eladia, staring at him. “How long do you think it’ll take them?” She took another pull of her cigarette, blowing the smoke at him instead of the vent.
He waved the offensive cloud away, indignant. “How long will it take them to do what, precisely?”
“To figure out that you’re the real head of the orachal ring in Sol.” She took another drag. “I wonder what your precious Board would think of you then.”
Proctor glared at her, then began to chuckle. “Before long, it won’t matter at all. True, your immunity was a surprise, but truth be told, I don’t think it could have worked out better. The one good thing you did in your sorry life was to develop this new strain of orachal. Soon, it won’t matter what anyone thinks they know”―he patted her on the hand―“and that’s all thanks to you.”
He lifted his gun from the table, aiming it at her chest. “I suppose I never confirmed if you actually had a heart, but here’s hoping. Any last words?”
“Yeah,” said Eladia, stubbing her final cigarette out against the table, her fingers trembling, her eyes calm. “Fuck you.”
“Classy to the end, as ever.”
Proctor pressed the trigger and watched as shock and then relief slid across Eladia’s face. Her head slumped to her chest, where a large patch of red dripped out and stained the front of her white jumpsuit, a seared hole all that remained of
her sternum. He stood, put the gun away, and then went over to the door and entered the door code. Once outside, he looked down at the crate of aerosol orachal on the floor just outside the cell.
“Pick that up and follow me―and don’t drop it,” he snapped, walking by Caden with a scowl. “We’ve got some work to do before we head out for the UN council next week.”
With a smile, Proctor turned to face his son, whose long hair had been sheared for a more militaristic style. He was wearing the UDA Spector uniform he’d abandoned some time ago, buttons on the lapels and his boots polished to a high, reflective gleam.
“We should celebrate, shouldn’t we? After all, it isn’t every day your old man becomes president of an entire planet, now is it?”
“Of course, Father,” said Caden, his voice monotone.
Proctor sighed, then continued forward down the hall. “We’ll have to work on making you sound more natural. If you’re going to be by my side through all of this, you’re going to have to be damn well believable. Now come on. We’ll be late for the transport.”
Caden lifted the crate and followed obediently at his father’s heels, stepping over the two dead guards as they made their way back to his ship.
To Be Continued…
About the Author
M erethe Walther has been fascinated with science fiction, fantasy, dystopian tales, and anything to do with the supernatural since she was a child growing up on the beaches of Florida. She was obsessed with books from a young age and began creating her own stories as soon as she was able to put pen to paper.
She graduated second in her class with a BFA in Creative Writing, and soon after completed her debut novel, Mercury in Retrograde.
Merethe is an avid fan of video games and all things anime. She blames her weird sense of humor on spending too many hours reading books alone and has accepted that no one will ever be able to pronounce her name properly.
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