by Chele Cooke
“Malak,” he called. The man turned back. “The sister, Hadley?”
“You dare touch my sister and I’ll cut your fucking throat you sick—”
“Mr. Tack you will have a civil tongue if you wish to keep it,” Cole hissed in his ear.
He looked back to Malak, who took a step back towards him. He looked at the soldier’s hands, the only part of him he could see properly, and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get her,” he said. “We went to the house but Western was already there.”
Cole nodded and gritted his teeth.
“Fine,” he said. “Go back to your duties and remember to send down Mr. Clarke.”
Malak disappeared back into the bowels of the ship before Cole returned to face the soldier.
“Why am I here?” Lachlan demanded.
Apart from being a bit dishevelled at being brought to the ship with a bag over his head and his hands bound, Lachlan Tack looked the way a proper soldier should. His shirt was buttoned to a tight collar, his jacket clean and pressed. Even after the walk through the fields to get to the ship, his boots shone. His face was stern, his jaw set, and despite being young—Cole guessed around thirty years old—he had an air of authority about him. He certainly had to have worked hard to earn his position at such a young age.
“Did you enjoy our performance last night, Mr. Tack?”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed to slits as he looked him up and down.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m simply curious. We don’t often have the coalition as clientele around here, I’m sure you can understand.”
The eyes of the soldier were cold and suspicious. His lips curled into a sneer that revealed a sliver of his straight white teeth.
“Oh, it was great. I was having a whale of a time before I saw a man cannibalised by one of your employees,” he snarled.
Cole’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back. Jack had told him what Clint had done to the butcher. He’d explained how he had locked Clint in one of the animal cages to keep him from doing further harm. He had not mentioned, however, that the very captain he had been ordered to keep an eye on had seen the murder as well. Running his tongue across his teeth, he reached into his pocket and drew out the hipflask. Jack had kept too much from him and it had to end, especially now he was trying to keep the Tack girl from the cirque.
There was no telling whether Lachlan Tack had told his superiors what he had seen but their chances didn’t seem good. This man seemed to be one of those ‘letter of the law’ types. He could see it in his face. No doubt, unless he took action against this, the Coalition would be on their asses before they opened for the night. The second night on a planet was always the most profitable and they wouldn’t be able to survive another long jump without the money the patrons would bring in. A short jump was out of the question, not if the coalition decided to chase them down.
He unscrewed the cap of the hipflask and moved closer to the soldier.
“You should drink something, it’s a hot day,” he said with a cool smile.
Lachlan turned his head away from him, his lips tight. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened, but he kept his teeth clenched. Grabbing the younger man’s chin, Cole forced him back and lifted the flask.
“Drink,” he ordered.
He had to drive his finger and thumb hard against Lachlan’s cheeks, forcing him to open his mouth. Forcing his head back, he tipped the contents of the flask down his throat. The soldier spluttered, his eyes wide at the taste of the sour lemonade, and Cole only just managed to slap his hand down over his mouth before he attempted to spit it out. Slotting the flask into his pocket, he pinched Lachlan’s nose until he had no choice but to swallow. Sure that the liquid was gone, Cole released the soldier and stepped back.
“I apologise for the stronger dose but, from what I hear, you’re already familiar with our little trick. Much more enjoyable than liquor, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Lachlan heaved and coughed, arching his back against the beam as he tried to force the lemonade back out of his system. It was no good. His efforts subsided within seconds and he slumped against the pole. His feet skidded in the sand and he slid down. His blue eyes widened, as dark and glassy as a frozen lake. His mouth dropped open in a lopsided smile as he bumped onto the floor.
“Of course, it does have worse side effects than liquor,” Cole remarked idly to the soldier. “A much higher addiction rate too, but what can you do?”
He was just screwing the cap back onto the hipflask when a cough came from behind him. Cole tucked the flask back into his inside pocket and turned. Kenneth Clarke walked towards him, his gaze flickering to the soldier.
“What do we need a soldier for?” he asked.
“Nevermind that, Kenneth,” Cole said, straightening his jacket. “I need you to send a message to the coalition.”
Kenneth stared at him with wide eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“The soldier confirmed something I have been concerned about. I need you to contact the coalition station in the south-east quadrant.”
Kenneth shifted his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Saying what, exactly?”
Cole looked down at Lachlan, sprawled on the floor. The stern authority had vanished from him and he looked much younger, a young boy with an air of wonder. It would be interesting to know what the man was seeing in his stupor but that was a fickle curiosity. He had more important things to deal with.
“Tell them that they have a wanted man within the walls of their city. The cirque will hand him over if they consent to our presence on their planet for one more night.”
“What are you talking about?” Kenneth asked.
Cole wound his arm around Kenneth’s shoulders and turned him away from the soldier, leading him back across the ring.
“Just send the message, Ken,” he said firmly. “Give them the contact details of my litcom and say I will be available until sundown, I will make the arrangements from there if they agree to our terms.”
Kenneth allowed himself to be led along. He glanced over his shoulder at the soldier and shook his head.
“Why will they believe us?”
“Tell them that the wanted man is a Coalition deserter and convicted murderer. Explain that we believe he has kidnapped one of their captains and plans to kill him.”
The pilot stared at him, his mouth open like he was trying to catch flies. He nodded and extracted himself from Cole’s grasp. His gaze went back to the soldier. The stripes on his shoulders revealed him to be a captain, and Cole knew Kenneth was putting the pieces together. His jaw tightened and he ground his teeth, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
“Yes, Mr. Hatliffe,” he muttered.
He turned away, his steps slow across the ring.
“Ken, one more thing,” Cole began.
“Yes?” Kenneth asked, turning back. He wouldn’t meet his eye. He stared at his feet and clasped his hands tight before him, wringing his fingers.
“Tell them that should they wish to verify our information of the previous crimes; the man’s name is Jack Western.”
“He should have been back by now.”
Hadley pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, pulling it out and releasing it, repeating the motion in quick succession. The inside of her lip made a wet slapping sound every time she pulled on it but it didn’t distract her from her nerves. Lachlan’s shift had ended an hour ago and he always came straight home. Even on his nights to cook, he would return home and change his clothes before going to the market. He always said that the vendors were more likely to drop their prices as it came closer to closing time.
“They’re probably busy,” Jack said, leaning further back in his seat. “You said it yourself, he’s determined to take the cirque down.”
Hadley paused in her pacing to look at him. It looked so natural to see him on their couch, as if he’d
been made to fit with their small house, with their family. He was trying to look casual, the way he stretched out across the cushions, but there was a flicker of worry that passed over his face. He was trying to placate her, she knew, despite his own fears for what would happen if Lachlan went back to the ship.
Truthfully, Hadley wasn’t sure what she wanted. Since learning everything Lachlan had seen the night before and after seeing what was apparently in her brother’s future, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted the cirque to survive. There was no telling how far into the future she had seen. There had been no surroundings, no other people she could see, just a black fog that closed in around her. If everything Jack had told her was true, then the cirque deserved to be destroyed, but what if this transformation was telling her that she could change things? What if she could save her brother by accepting it? He’d done everything he could for her growing up. Perhaps this was when she repaid that debt.
While she didn’t think she could bear to see Lachlan killed again, she longed for another vision to come and show her more. Maybe, if she saw more, she’d know what to do.
Then there was Jack. If she stopped Lachlan and helped the cirque to leave as planned, would Jack go too? It was so soon after meeting him but she couldn’t deny that she dreaded the moment he would board the ship and disappear from her life.
She took a seat on the other end of the couch and hunched over her knees, looking down at her feet. If Lachlan was going to be late, he would have contacted her. He knew she was worried about him, even though he’d told her she shouldn’t be. She shifted and squirmed, getting to her feet again.
“We’re going down there,” she said, striding across the living room towards the kitchen.
“What?”
When she turned back, Jack had stiffened. He sat up straight, his fingers digging into the cushions.
“We’ll just go down there, tell Lachlan that we need to talk to him.”
Jack jumped up from the couch but instead of joining her, he rounded it in the other direction, keeping it between them. He shook his head and glanced around the living room, his eyes wide.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said quickly. “Others will ask questions.”
“So what?”
Jack pointed at her as he paced back and forth behind the couch.
“You said it yourself. Lachlan doesn’t even remember me.”
“And you said most people don’t. That’s your gift, right? Getting in and out without being remembered. We’ll go to the station and when we leave they’ll forget all about you.”
“There’s got to be another way,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
His gaze flickered around the room again, never really landing on anything. Hadley watched him. The man she had met the night before—charming and self-assured—was gone. He was skittish and uncertain. He clasped and released his hands, he ran his fingers through his hair, and he didn’t stop moving for a second.
“Jack?” she asked.
“The litcom!” he blurted suddenly. “You have a litcom on the table out there. Use that!”
She didn’t know where this fear had come from. He’d been in the city two days in a row and he’d not shown the slightest worry. The mention of the litcom, however, distracted her. Lachlan had a litcom but he took it with him to work. Turning her back on Jack and his pacing, Hadley went through to the kitchen and sure enough, found the litcom on the kitchen table.
“Lachlan must have forgotten it this morning,” she called through to Jack.
Picking it up, Hadley went back through to the living room, turning on the device as she went.
“I’ll contact the station first,” she said, perching on the edge of the couch. “But if I don’t get a response, I’m going down there, whether you come with me or not.”
She glanced at Jack and he nodded in understanding. He came around the couch and sat on the very edge of the cushion, sliding his hands beneath his knees. Hadley drummed her fingers against the arm of the sofa as the litcom loaded.
Finally, just as she was about to test the power button again, the screen flashed bright and three alerts popped up. Two were for Lachlan, private messages that would need a password to be accessed. Lachlan had set up the password after he started bringing the device home, worried that she’d see something she shouldn’t. Minimising the two messages, the citywide alert took over the screen immediately.
Her finger was already hovering over the button to minimise that too when the moving image accompanying the alert loaded. A man stood in front of a prison intake measurement screen. His gaze flickered between the camera and his shoes and despite the short hair and the hollowness of his cheeks, it was undoubtedly Jack.
Getting to her feet, she moved away from the couch and turned the litcom out of Jack’s eye line. She glanced over at him. Jack was picking at a mark on his trousers, not paying attention. Hadley looked back down at the litcom.
PUBLIC WARNING
South-east quadrant have released a public warning that a dangerous individual may be at large within the city and are asking all citizens to be vigilant.
Information was given to the coalition station in the south-east quadrant that Mr. Jack Western may be within the city. Jack Western has been convicted of murder in the first degree, kidnapping, and desertion of his post as a coalition soldier.
Jack Western is a Caucasian male standing at six foot one inch. He has blond hair and brown eyes. The image shown right is the last recorded image of Mr. Western, who escaped his transport to Koyum Isse Prison, and citizens are warned that the suspect may have changed his appearance.
The Coalition asks that all citizens remain vigilant. The suspect is volatile and dangerous, and should not be approached. If you believe you have information as to the suspect’s whereabouts, contact your quadrant station immediately.
Hadley read the entire message twice. Murder, kidnapping, desertion. Any one of those charges carried a life sentence in one of the infamous prisons of the coalition, and Jack had all three to his name. How was it that a man who had seemed so kind and charming could be capable of such atrocities? He wasn’t even suspected of those things, he’d been convicted. He was guilty.
She stared down at the litcom as she took a step towards the kitchen.
“Something wrong?” he asked. “I thought you were contacting the station?”
Hadley gulped and looked up, gritting her teeth. Would he change the moment he realised she knew? The nice front he’d put on must have been an act, she realised. Maybe the charm had even been how he’d found his victim. What if Annalise hadn’t died the way Jack said she had? She licked her bottom lip.
“Busy signal,” she murmured. “I’ll try again.”
She hit the minimise button and clutched the litcom to her chest. She needed to get out of here.
“Maybe it’s the signal,” she said quickly. “We always get bad signals. I’ll try out in the kitchen.”
Jack watched her, a mixture of confusion and amusement clear on his face. He smiled and nodded to her, but Hadley didn’t dare turn her back on him. Her mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton as she drew the litcom away from her chest and began scrolling through the contacts.
The screen flashed red and buzzed, taking her by surprise. With her nerves so taught, Hadley screeched and almost dropped it. She fumbled for a better grip as the flash opened up a new alert.
PUBLIC WARNING
South-east quadrant have released an update to the public warning that convicted murderer, Jack Western, may be within the city limits.
An anonymous tip was given that Western has taken a coalition captain as a hostage in order to escape the city.
It can now be confirmed that Lachlan Tack, a captain in the south-east quadrant, has been reported missing.
Lachlan Tack is a decorated captain who failed to return from a routine patrol of the quadrant.
The Coalition urge anyone with information on Captain Tack�
�s whereabouts, or on Jack Western, to contact their quadrant station.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jack asked. “You’re white as a ghost.”
He got to his feet and walked towards her. Hadley leapt back with a screech. Stopping, Jack stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise.
“Hadley?”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Jack took another step closer. Hadley jumped back two more. She wasn’t sure if it was confusion or disappointment that passed over his face as he reached for her.
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember what you told me,” she spat. “Not this!”
She threw the litcom at him. He caught it with deft fingers and turned it over.
It only took him a few moments to read through the message. The colour drained from his face, leaving him as sallow looking as the image. He slumped down onto the edge of the couch. He didn’t look up at her.
“You know I didn’t take Lachlan,” he said. “I’ve been here.”
“It says you’re a murderer, Jack!” she cried, approaching him just long enough to snatch the litcom from him before leaping back again. “There was another one saying you were convicted of murder, kidnapping. It said you were coalition!”
Jack, if possible, paled even more. He hunched over his knees and clutched at his hair as if he were trying to rip it from his skull.
“I didn’t take your brother,” he muttered again.
He lifted his head just long enough for her to see the tears in his eyes.
“But from the tip the coalition received, I’m pretty sure I know who has him.”
He’d tried not to think about his past. For years he’d done everything he could to forget his life before the cirque. No matter how he hard he tried it always came back when he least expected it. He could still see the walls of Koyum Isse as the ship approached. He remembered the cold blast of air as those massive doors opened. Hatliffe had said that Annalise had wanted to forget but Jack couldn’t imagine that her past had been as dark as his own. If anyone needed a reason to forget the person they had once been, it was him.