“I just can’t believe… I still don’t believe they did it.”
“They did. We had all the evidence we needed, and in the end, all three of them confessed.”
His mother stopped to wrap one hand around the chair-back, her knuckles white. She closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them, he saw something new there. Resignation.
“I never meant for any of this to happen, Tadeo.”
Tadeo’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean—you never meant for this to happen?”
“After four years on the Paragon, where do your loyalties lie? Can I trust you?”
“Are you serious?” Tadeo’s voice rose. “My loyalties lie with you. And with the president and the board. I’m loyal to the fleet.”
His mother leaned forward against the chair, her gaze intense. “If I’m going to share information, I need to know I can trust you. What I tell you must not be repeated.”
Tadeo’s heart sped up. “You want me to keep secrets… from Nyssa?”
“She doesn’t know about Kit. No one does. I kept your secret. Now I need you to keep mine.”
“What did you do?” Tadeo asked, drawing out each word.
His mother paused, then began to pace the room again.
“You asked what jobs the… traitors had, and I promise you, none of them had ever been in any trouble here. Sam and Jonas had been on maintenance crews since they became halfs. Almost every sublevel worker has spent a cycle on Soren, but other than that, they worked in the sublevels, kept the helios working, repaired hydropods. All of that. But Tatiana… I really trusted her. She was technically a sub, but she reported to me.”
Tadeo’s chest tightened. “A sub reported to you? Why?”
His mother paused in her pacing and turned to face him. “Tatiana was my eyes and ears.”
Tadeo sucked in a breath. The implications of her statement lay like scattered seeds across the table before him. “What are you saying?”
His mother took a seat at the table once more, and her hands were steady, her gaze firm. “Every captain has… agents. Colonists they trust more than others. I would have taught you all of this when you came back here.”
“Agents—?”
“You give your agents small favors in exchange for information. They keep an eye on your deka, get a sense if your population is too tightly wound, if the pressure needs to be relieved. You never command alone, Tadeo. Remember that. Quin will succumb to rot if not given a specific blend of nutrients. In the same way, a good leader fails without exactly the right people helping her manage her ship.”
Bile rose in Tadeo’s throat. “Are telling me that Tatiana was your… your spy? Why did you send her here?”
“She was my agent. I sent her there…” His mother gave him a rueful smile and shrugged. “She was supposed to keep an eye on the Paragon and send information back.”
“You were spying on the president?” Tadeo hissed. He glanced toward the door, and sweat broke out on his forehead. “Did Tatiana happen to tell you she planned to try to kill the president and board?”
His mother’s expression hardened. “No.”
“What did she tell you? How did you communicate? They monitor the comms—”
“She got messages out. But they were… innocuous. They can’t be traced to me.”
Tadeo swiped a hand through his hair, and the room seemed to tilt off-center. “Have you told the president any of this?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you understand what this looks like?”
“I know exactly what it looks like. And that’s why you aren’t telling anyone. Do you want us to lose our ship? If the board finds out about my connection to Tatiana, that’s exactly what will happen. Or worse.”
Tadeo rested his head in his hands and stared down at the scratched table, fighting to calm his mind so he could think straight. “Nyssa’s your friend. Your closest friend in the fleet. She always has been. You need to tell her. She won’t—”
“Our friendship won’t matter in this. None of us will hesitate to protect our own interests. You should know that by now. Nyssa protects what’s hers. And I protect what’s mine.”
She didn’t need to say that it was him she’d protected when he’d needed it the most. Tadeo pulled at his hair, fighting nausea.
His mother pressed her lips together. “I guarantee you that every captain in this fleet has agents aboard the Paragon. Nyssa has to know that. She doesn’t share everything with me. And the board doesn’t tell us anything.”
His mother stared at him, her eyes begging him to understand. “They keep us in the dark about their plans for the fleet. And I’m stuck dealing with that asshole board member. Nielsen doesn’t give a kak about the Meso. Captains need a way to get information, and this is how it’s done. It’s just the way this game is played—has always been played.”
Tadeo slammed his fist on the table. “Except that this is not a fucking game. Your… your spy was involved with terrorists. Terrorists who could have killed me. Me and the president and the board. Terrorists who want us all dead and may have planted explosives somewhere on this ship.”
His mother blinked a few times and sniffed. “I do what’s necessary. And so will you. You’ll see. Let’s just focus on fixing our current problem.”
This was bad. So much worse than he ever could have imagined. And he couldn’t tell the president, couldn’t let anyone know—ever—that Tatiana had been his mother’s spy.
“Tell me what jobs Tatiana did for you.” His voice came out strong. Commanding.
She gave a single nod of her head, as if approving of his decision to accept her confession and move past it. But he was far from moving past any of this.
“I put Tatiana on special duties,” his mother said. “She did maintenance work in sensitive areas. Silo sector, transports, command level, power core, medical…” His mother twisted her hands together. “And other duties. Things she did for me as an agent. I have torn this ship apart since the hull breach. I’ve had crews go over every inch of every job Tatiana, Jonas, and Sam did. And I’ve found nothing. Nothing. They were loyal.”
His mother looked like she believed every word. But he didn’t. He’d seen the records, heard Tatiana’s confession. They hadn’t even used drugs on her. She’d caved almost immediately. She was a traitor.
And even though he wanted to believe Nyssa would understand, he knew his mother was right. The president would protect her ship at any cost. He’d learned that with Era and McGill. His mother had just put him in a terrible position. He’d have to lie. Hide the truth. Break the rules.
“Talk to me,” his mother said.
“You know,” he said quietly, his voice gruff. “After the hull breach, they sent every Meso sublevel worker you transferred here down to Soren. They weren’t even there a week when they all died in a cave-in.”
His mother put her hand over her chest and took a deep breath. “I’m not responsible…”
Tadeo stood and leaned across the table toward the screen. “Your game has gotten a lot of people injured and killed. Now tell me—is there anyone else on this ship that the terrorists may have been working with? Any other spies you transferred over here?”
She averted her eyes, waited too long to answer. There was someone here still.
“No,” she finally said.
“I need to go find the explosives.”
“Tadeo—”
He twisted his wrist, and his mother vanished from the screen. Disappointment and anger coursed through him. His memories of her seemed holo now, not real. Maybe she wasn’t what he’d built her up to be.
He clenched his jaw and stormed out of the room and through the bridge, feeling curious stares at his back. The corridors leading to his cubic were nearly empty now, with everyone turning in for the night.
His mother. A traitor. He had to tell Nyssa what he’d discovered, didn’t he?
But… his mother had protected him when he’d needed it most. She’d lied
to keep him safe.
By the time Tadeo reached his cubic, he was breathing hard, and a sheen of sweat coated his face. He tore off his guard suit, and as it fell to the floor, he remembered the grimp.
With a shaking hand, he unzipped the pocket of his suit and pulled out the contents—Era’s shift card, taken from Zephyr earlier that day, and the plastic packet of grimp. The blue-green pills beckoned to him, begged him to try just one. He leaned against the wall, staring at them in his hand. They’d erase everything and make this all go away. He could be free of the burden. He wouldn’t care anymore.
He should send it down the lav. But he didn’t. It took everything he had to shove the grimp, and Era’s shift card with it, into the depths of his cabinet. Then he fell into his bunk and shut out the lights. He stared up into the darkness, his heart pumping too fast for sleep. His mother sent a spy, a terrorist, to this ship. Would Nyssa order her execution if he told the truth?
He slept, but nightmares woke him through the night. Nightmares of his mother—stepping into the control room with him, taking over the controls and airlocking Kit and Era both. But then Nyssa would appear, sentencing his mother to the same fate.
Just before night shift curfew ended, he stole into the empty, half-lit corridors to go to the one place that could bring him comfort and help him clear his mind.
∞ ∞
Tadeo’s feet pounded the treadmill. The room was dark, his only source of light the holo screen above the machine. His lungs struggled to take in enough oxygen and screamed for him to stop. Every muscle in his legs burned, half-numb, half-tingling, as if he’d jabbed them with needles from a madaro plant. He grimaced against the pain and punched the button, dialing up the speed. In the ship’s dented wall panels, his distorted reflection moved faster. A line of rivets ran down the center, splitting his body in two.
My mother is a traitor.
Running hadn’t allowed him to escape the truth—it had forced him to admit it.
That was the problem with treadmills. You could never really run anywhere. Not like on the Meso, where he’d run the massive levels filled with huge helios and green growing plants. Not the way he’d be able to run on a new Earth if they found it in his lifetime. There’d be open fields and dirt paths like the damaged footage he’d seen of Earth on the few cubes his family possessed. A better world. That’s what all of this was for, wasn’t it?
He ran faster, sweat dripping down his brow, soaking his workout suit. He had to make a decision. Did he tell Nyssa the truth about his mother and hope she’d forgive them? Or should he lie? This should be a simple, easy answer. He was loyal to the president. He should tell her. But the question continued to gnaw at him, until the buzzer rang out, calling an end to night shift. The lume bars in the ceiling flickered to life in the empty gym.
Tadeo’s heart pounded against his ribcage, ready to burst.
“Raines.”
He misstepped and nearly lost his balance. He jabbed at the interface to shut it down, then hopped off the machine, taking ragged breaths. When he reached for his towel, it was no longer where he’d left it.
Omar stood behind him, already dressed in his navy guard suit. He held out Tadeo’s towel. “Dropped this.”
Tadeo took it and wiped the sweat from his face.
Omar wrinkled his dark brow and peered at the treadmill. Tadeo’s stomach lurched, and he shifted his body between Omar and the machine, so he couldn’t see the time count on the holo interface. No one knew Tadeo had an exemption for the curfew, and he’d rather keep it that way.
“How long you been here?” Omar asked.
“Just got here, same as you. What do you think?”
Omar widened his eyes but shrugged. “Where’s your commcuff? Chief commed me. He wants us to grab mess and get started. No time for working out. You should get back to him.”
Tadeo cleared his throat and wiped his face again. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “I’ll meet you at mess in a bit.”
Omar made a face and twisted the black, bulky comcuff on his own wrist. “You alright, man? You seem…”
Tadeo glanced toward the doors, but they were still alone in the gym. “I have a lot on my mind. Don’t you?”
“I do. The canister… How much damage could that kak do?”
“It’s enough to take out a few cubics. But we’ll find the powder today,” Tadeo said.
“Are we gonna tell the whole squad?”
“They’ll help us search, but… let me worry about what to say. You don’t say anything.”
“But shouldn’t they know?”
“When it’s time, they will. Grab some mess, check out holo gear, and meet me at the conference cubic at Central with the rest of the squad.”
Omar’s eyes flicked to the treadmill again, but he walked off, leaving Tadeo alone in the empty gym.
He reset the treadmill’s holo screen and headed for the showers, past the long row of weights. The treadmills were the last piece of functioning machinery. White squares stood out on the stained tile where other fitness machines, motors long dead, parts scrapped, had once been bolted down. Two guards entered in their workout suits and halted to salute him.
“Morning, Lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant Raines.”
Tadeo inclined his head toward them, without making eye contact, and went to shower.
He scoured his tan skin red, dried off, and pulled his suit from his locker. The stiff fabric of his guard suit stuck to his still-damp skin, but he welcomed the unpleasant sensation. It took his mind off the worse feelings roiling in his gut. He leaned against the locker and stared down at spots of rust on the metal floor.
My mother is a traitor.
But I can’t betray my family.
There it was. The whole truth he’d been trying to run from. If he had to choose between Nyssa and his mother, he’d choose his mother. She’d been there for him, had broken rules for him.
Hot anger spread within him, and he slammed his fist into the locker. He winced at the pain that shot up his arm. His mother had put him in an impossible position. But when all this was over, he’d pay her a visit. He’d order her to stop her treason, to cease her spying.
And until then, he’d lie for her. He’d find a way to fix this and make it all go away.
Zephyr lay in the darkness of her bunk, privacy panel closed, clutching to her chest the pale green scrap she’d taken from Era’s cubic. Once she heard the door slide shut, proof her bunkmates had finally left for first mess, she carefully stored the scrap on the shelf in her bunk, then jumped down and got dressed, fully intending to go to mess. But as she tied on her boots, a sudden wave of panic washed over her. Screw mess and its half-sized rations.
She climbed back into bed, her breath coming quickly, and grabbed her handheld and eyepiece from the shelf. She sat there, letting her legs dangle over the edge, and tried to take deep, full breaths.
After sliding on her eyepiece, she gestured to open her music creation program. She’d huddled in her bunk yesterday writing a song. Every hour, she’d heard a voice outside her door that sounded like Era’s. When she left to go to the lav, she glimpsed colonists with short brown hair like Era’s, and had expected her to show up, to speak in her calming way, say it was all a huge misunderstanding. But it wasn’t. Tadeo said they’d seen her body.
Era was dead.
Zephyr wiped her eyes and tapped the sounds she’d chosen, manipulating their arrangement. Swirls of color denoted each instrument, and the program melded them together to create a unique blend of sound.
Music was emotions made manifest. When even her ability to numb herself wasn’t enough—when she had nowhere to put the chaotic mess within her—she spilled it into the beat, recyced it into something new. She took a sip of water from her canteen and glanced toward the door again, willing her bunkmates to stay away. Then she gestured to make the program begin recording. She took a deep breath and started to sing. It came out weak at first, but slowly grew in s
trength as her emotions flowed out of her and into the song.
Wanna stay here with my dreams.
Don’t wanna face the day.
’Cause this reality's my nightmare
Since you went away.
Wish I could find faith
In what they call lies
Since the day we lost it all
And the old gods died.
Everywhere,
I see your face.
In every song,
I hear your voice
Like a phantom melody.
Why'd you make that choice?
I wanna believe I’ll see you again.
Wanna believe that this isn’t the end.
Wanna believe that there’s a better world waiting.
Need hope the dead religions give me.
Want a reason, not a chaos theory.
I wanna believe a better world is waiting.
She sang it over and over, until the song held her pain for her, and all that was left was vast nothingness.
Being empty always felt better than being full.
Zephyr started up the song again, and the door opened. She glimpsed the corridor, packed tight with halfs.
“She airlocked herself,” Kali said.
Kali, Helice, and Paige walked through the door.
Zephyr twisted her wrist angrily, and the holographic display winked out of existence, taking the music with it. She stuffed her eyepiece and handheld in her pocket and zipped it shut.
Paige wrinkled her nose like she’d caught a whiff of compost. “It’s a shame you guys have to deal with that hideous noise all the time in here.”
Zephyr jumped off the bunk. “Yeah, she is sick of it. She’s just afraid to tell you to shut your face.”
Paige colored. “We were just talking about the airlocker. You knew Era, right? So why’d she do it?”
Zephyr met Paige’s gaze but didn’t answer. The lump in her throat was suddenly back.
Paige turned to her friends. “It’s like I told you. Era’s husband helped the traitors. That’s why they sent him to Soren.” She looked back at Zephyr, and a little smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “We’re lucky they’re both gone.”
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