Orbital Decay (Galaxy Mavericks Book 7)

by Michael La Ronn

“Kid, you okay?” the man asked. “You almost drowned, but I got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

  Florian breathed in and sputtered. Wiping his eyes, he glanced down the dock.

  Someone was crying.

  Through a gathered crowd, he spotted Tatiana.

  He could only see her legs, and bits of her dress.

  “Tati,” Florian breathed. “Tati…”

  She was crying. She was holding someone in her arms.

  And then Florian saw her.

  His mother, in Tatiana’s arms.

  “No!” Florian cried.

  He scrambled across the dock. His rescuer tried to stop him, but Florian pushed him away.

  Florian shoved two people aside and stopped at the sight of his mother.

  Blood welled across Greta’s dress. Her eyes were distant and cold.

  Tatiana looked up at Florian and shook her head, crying.

  Florian balled his fists.

  He looked around for the criminal.

  But he was gone.

  His legs were suddenly heavy.

  He couldn’t move.

  He sank to his knees and buried his face in his mother’s chest. He didn’t care about the warm blood on his face.

  “Mama,” he said. “Mama, say something!”

  But Greta did not respond.

  Florian curled into a ball and screamed.

  Part II

  Affliction

  3

  Florian sat with his hands in his lap in his mother’s library room in the family mansion. The mansion, on the planet Macalestern, an ocean planet named after the family, was built straddling the city’s living platform, with one level below the ocean’s surface.

  He leaned his head on the cold glass next to him. A school of fish swam by. The gray waters were unusually murky today. Above, he could hear the pattering of rain hitting the ocean’s surface, and thunder.

  He had just come from his mother’s funeral.

  The whole thing was a blur, and he had been numb through it all. He’d held Tatiana’s hand through the service, and as the pastor read a prayer, he fought back tears. When it was time for the final procession, he stood over his mother’s coffin, studying every inch of her body—the blushed skin, the veil over her face, the lips puckered up as if she were angry with him—and he told her how sorry he was. That he never meant for her to get hurt. That he needed her.

  And then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  His aunt. Black-haired and thin, in a black business suit. A gentle look in her eyes.

  He turned back to his mother, said his final goodbye, and watched sullenly as the funeral director closed the casket lid.

  He served as a pallbearer, and they carried the casket out into the rainy day. A thunderstorm had been brewing during the service, and he ignored the rain drenching his suit as he and his cousins set the coffin adrift on the surface of the ocean graveyard, letting the raging waves take it away from the living platform and into the stormy sea. When it was approximately half a mile away, a red beacon on the coffin glowed and it sank below the surface of the water.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder again—his aunt.

  He’d had nothing to say to her the whole ride home in their limousine. And she had nothing to say to him. They rode in silence, and he watched the water bead up on the windows of the limousine, and the skyscrapers of his aunt’s company looming in the sky like giant needles.

  And now he was home, in an empty house that used to be filled with the warmth of his mother and father, and he was all alone. Still in his white suit and tie. He hadn’t bothered to take them off.

  He sighed.

  In the reflection of the glass, he saw his aunt standing in the doorway of the library.

  Annaliese Macalestern walked across the large room and sat in the high-backed chair next to Florian. She clearly didn’t know what to say.

  He said nothing.

  She opened her mouth, then stopped.

  She’d only said one sentence to him since he’d returned from Kavios Two. She’d hugged him, and told him how sorry she was. He’d said nothing even then.

  And now she was going to be his legal guardian. His caretaker. His de facto mom.

  “The attorney is ready for us,” she said.

  He looked at her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The attorney,”Annaliese said. “I know it’s a terrible time, but—”

  “I don’t care about any damned attorney!” he said.

  SLAP!

  His cheek stung and he put his hand to it, looking at his aunt incredulously.

  “I don’t care how badly you feel,” Annaliese said, “you will not speak to me that way.”

  Florian whimpered.

  Annaliese stood.

  “Stop crying. You’ve got some contracts to sign. And then you’ll have the whole afternoon to yourself.”

  She started for the door, and then turned.

  “I miss her, too, you know,” she said.

  Florian said nothing.

  “She was my sister-in-law,” Annaliese said, “Your father loved her, and so did I.”

  “You never even spent time with her,” Florian said quietly.

  “You can mourn,” Annaliese said. “I mourned for a very long time when I lost my mother. But at some point, Florian, you’ll have to pick yourself up and make something out of this.”

  His mother had just died and here she was, telling him to move on!

  He wanted to lunge at her, but she snapped her fingers.

  “Come,” she said. “I have a meeting later this afternoon that I can’t miss.”

  “Signing here will entitle Mr. Florian to the entirety of his mother’s estate,” the attorney said. She was a black woman in a blouse who looked at Florian sympathetically.

  Florian and his aunt sat at a long square table in what used to be his father’s office. A globe spun next to the window, which looked out into the stormy sea. They were surrounded by bookshelves—two stories of them—and they stretched upward in a topsy-turvy way, an architectural design.

  Annaliese tapped Florian on the shoulder.

  In front of him lay a tablet with a long document on it. It was a bunch of legalese that he didn’t understand.

  “I know it’s hard for you right now,” Annaliese said, “but signing this is the best thing I can do for you at the moment.”

  Florian nodded.

  “I’m very sorry about your mother and your father,” the attorney said. “I knew them both well. You’re not just inheriting their legacy; you’re inheriting an obligation to continue the family name, too.”

  Florian sighed. He was tired of people telling him that. He didn’t know if he’d ever be as great as his parents.

  “How vast is the estate?” Annaliese asked.

  “His parents created a trust fund for him, which was already activated when his father passed two years ago. With the life insurance, annuities, liquidated properties, royalties from his father’s textbooks, and other miscellaneous assets, we’re looking at approximately seven trillion.”

  Annaliese gasped.

  “I would recommend keeping…” the attorney glanced through some paperwork. “Is it Tatiana?”

  Florian brightened at the sound of her name. He hadn’t seen her since he’d returned from Kavios Two.

  “Yes, Tatiana Russo,” Annaliese said. “She’s the nanny.”

  “Has she expressed interest in staying in her position full-time, perhaps with a raise?” the attorney asked.

  “Yes, she’ll do it,” Florian said. “She’s like family. I can’t imagine life without her.”

  “Good,” the attorney said. “And of course, Annaliese, with your work schedule, you’ll want to hire a private driver for him to ensure he gets to school and back, and a tutor and a chef--”

  “He’ll be moving in with me,” Annaliese said. “I have all of those.”

  “Greta designated you as his legal guardian,” the attorney said. “I
drafted the will. It should be a relatively easy process getting the courts to approve it. All of the money of course belongs to him.”

  “I don’t need the money,” Annaliese said. “I make a lot more than what’s in his trust fund, believe me. But I can’t even begin to fathom how to manage--”

  “Allow me to recommend a colleague,” the attorney said. “Baldrick Huxley of The Huxley Intergalactic Financial Group. I went to law school with his wife, and he’s built a very reputable portfolio of ultra-wealthy clientele. He has a child Florian’s age, I believe. I can give him a call, and he would be happy to squeeze an appointment in.”

  Annaliese breathed a sigh of relief. Then she signed the document on the tablet.

  “It’s official,” Annaliese said to Florian, her voice slightly saddened. “You’re my responsibility now.”

  4

  “You shouldn’t be so mean to your aunt,” Tatiana said.

  Florian and Tatiana stood in an elevator that rose through the Huxley Financial Building at a rapid pace.

  Florian ignored her.

  “She’s doing the best she can,” Tatiana said. “Besides, her house is pretty nice, isn’t it?”

  “I guess,” Florian said.

  “The butler has been nothing but friendly to you, and so have the chefs,” Tatiana said. “She didn’t have to take you in. She could have left you on the streets. There are some kids out there in the galaxy who don’t have the luxuries that you have. They’re living in the streets and forests.”

  “So?”

  “Be nicer to her, is all I’m saying,” Tatiana said.

  He had only seen his aunt five times since the funeral. And each time he did see her, it was a quick hug, a “how are you doing, sweetie” and a “do you need anything” before her cell phone rang or her assistant interrupted saying it was time to go.

  Summer vacation was almost over and he couldn’t bear the thought of returning to school.

  The elevator dinged and the door opened into a sumptuous lobby, with granite walls and floors.

  His aunt was seated in the lobby in a chair, swiping through her smartphone.

  She didn’t even look up.

  “Hi, Miss Macalestern,” Tatiana said.

  Annaliese looked up, startled.

  “Oh, I didn’t even hear the elevator,” she said. “Florian, how was school?”

  “It doesn’t start till next week,” he said. “Do you ever pay any attention?”

  Annaliese looked hurt.

  “Ah. Well, the financial advisor will see us shortly.”

  Florian threw himself in the chair next to his aunt and pulled out a portable Game Unit. He turned it on and played a space shooter. His spaceship, a lone triangle in the middle of the stars, shot at an approaching fleet of green, slimy alien ships.

  “What has he eaten today?” Annaliese asked.

  “Bev made him gluten-free pasta,” Tatiana said. “And I packed him some nuts. He loves those. Can’t eat enough of them.”

  “Oh, the cholesterol in those,” Annaliese said. “But I suppose it’s fine as long as he’s eating. Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

  Tatiana blushed. “Thank you, Miss Macalestern, but it’s my mother’s birthday and I thought—”

  “Say no more, dear,” Annaliese said. “Family is more important.”

  A tall, barrel-chested man in a gray suit walked into the lobby. He wore French cuffs with gold studs clearly made from real gold, and his suit was immaculate.

  “Annaliese,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

  He turned to Florian.

  “And you must be the one I’ve heard so much about.”

  He bent down and shook Florian’s hand.

  “I’m Baldrick, Baldrick Huxley, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.”

  Florian said hello.

  “Ellis?” Baldrick asked. “Ellis, come out here and meet Florian.”

  A little boy Florian’s age emerged from behind the lobby front desk. He looked exactly like his father; a boy with a barrel-chest in training. He had a square, almost brutish face, with soft, gray eyes. And bad acne.

  “Ellis, this is Florian Macalestern,” Baldrick said. “He’s your age and I imagine you two probably have a lot in common, seeing he’s also got a Game Unit.”

  “Hi,” Ellis said.

  Florian nodded to him.

  “Your aunt and I are going to take care of some business,” Baldrick said. “Why don’t you two go to my office and play?”

  “Why do you wear ties?” Ellis asked.

  Florian stared at the kid, incredulous.

  Ellis wore a t-shirt and jean shorts. He was the kind of kid who probably spent all his time on the indoor soccer fields, who had probably never put on a suit in his life save for funerals and weddings.

  They stood in Baldrick’s office, a room that was almost as big as a studio apartment, replete with two leather couches, a refrigerator, a bar, and two televisions, one that played cartoons, and another that played the news on mute. Outside, the city lay ahead, skyscrapers cutting through the foggy clouds. The ocean surged far, far away.

  Ellis sat on his father’s wooden desk playing with a set of ball bearings. He fidgeted them with his thumbs, massaging them around his fingers.

  “Only old people wear suits,” Ellis said.

  “That’s not true,” Tatiana said. “And it’s rude.”

  Ellis shrugged. “What’s with the lunch bag?”

  He eyed Tatiana’s red backpack.

  “We packed lunch,” Tatiana said, pulling out a bag of pecans. “Would you like something?”

  Florian grabbed the bag.

  “Those are mine,” he said.

  “I don’t need food,” Ellis said. He hopped off the desk and opened the refrigerator, revealing soda, cake, and sushi. “I got plenty.”

  Florian looked around. Then he sat on the couch and pulled out his Game Unit.

  “What game is that?” Ellis asked.

  “Galaxy Invaders,” Florian said.

  “Nice,” Ellis said, pulling out his unit. “I bet my score is better than yours.”

  “Why do you care so much about yourself?” Florian asked.

  “What?” Ellis asked. “You don’t like to play?”

  “You’re a selfish brat,” Florian said. “All you care about is yourself.”

  Ellis threw his Game Unit aside and jumped on Florian.

  “Stop!” Tatiana said, pulling the two boys apart.

  Florian swung at Ellis but missed.

  “You fight like a Crystalith,” Ellis said.

  A tear sprung from Florian’s eye and he hated himself for it.

  Tatiana stood between them.

  “He just lost his mother,” Tatiana said. “Go easy on him.”

  Ellis’s face changed from angry to surprised.

  “Oh,” he said. “I…didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Florian grunted in assent and grabbed his Game Unit.

  But it wasn’t his.

  It was Ellis’s.

  Florian read the scoreboard. Then he smirked.

  “My score’s way better than yours.”

  “Heh heh,” Ellis said. “Then I take that as a challenge.”

  On the television screen, two warships cruised through space; one red, one blue.

  “Florian, you take the left, I’ll take the right,” Ellis said.

  “Got it, Ellis.”

  “Only my grandma calls me that,” Ellis said. “Everybody else calls me Hux.”

  “Got it…Hux.”

  A wave of slimy green alien ships appeared far in the distance.

  Almost immediately, gunfire began.

  “Let’s get ‘em!” Hux said.

  “Time to go, Florian,” Annaliese said, standing in the doorway to Baldrick’s office. Baldrick stood next to her, grinning with his arms folded.

  Florian shot a cluster of alien ships and Hux ch
eered.

  “High score!” Hux cried.

  “Do we have to go?” Florian asked.

  Tatiana, who was asleep on the couch, startled and jumped up, grabbing her backpack. She tossed Florian’s bag of nuts to him.

  “Time to go, kid,” she said.

  Florian groaned.

  They paused the game.

  “I’ll save it for next time you come,” Hux said.

  “Perhaps you two can play again soon?” Annaliese said. “Baldrick?”

  “No opposition from me,” Baldrick said. “We’ll put Tatiana in touch with our nanny and make something happen.”

  Florian tucked away his Game Unit.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around before school starts,” he said.

  Hux extended a hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said. “And…sorry about your mom.”

  This kid seemed like a brute in the beginning, but maybe he wasn’t so bad.

  Florian shook his hand.

  “I’d say that was productive,” Annaliese said as they drove toward the spaceport. “Ellis seems like a nice kid, doesn’t he?”

  Florian was too engrossed in his Game Unit to reply.

  “He is very nice,” Tatiana said. “He and Florian played video games the whole time.”

  “At least someone knows how to connect with my nephew,” Annaliese said.

  Florian paused, then continued playing.

  He’d hurt his aunt.

  He felt a twinge deep down, that maybe he was being mean.

  Hadn’t he felt like this when he hurt his mother?

  He pressed the keys on his Game Unit harder now.

  A hand pushed his Game Unit down.

  It was his aunt.

  “You’re my responsibility,” Annaliese said. “And whether you like it or not, you’re my nephew and I love you.”

  “Then act like it,” Florian said.

  Annaliese frowned and puffed.

  Florian returned to his Game Unit, irritated at the whole exchange.

  Florian stared at a cloche on his plate at a dinner table set for two.

  The dining room was lavishly decorated with hutches filled with expensive China, and oil artwork that his aunt had picked up on her travels across the galaxy. Overlooking them tonight was a digital painting of “Midnight at the Event Horizon,” a Whistler-esque masterpiece of oranges, blues, and greens that simulated one crossing over the event horizon.