The sound of sirens grew louder.
And then, a group of police ships sped past the roof, their sirens hurting his ears. They swung around the rooftop and then surrounded it.
“The man of who fell is alive!” someone shouted. “We've found him.”
Smoke put his hands up, cursing.
27
Ren screamed as a final current of electrical shock surged through her body.
“Please, stop!”
Lissa Grubeck flipped a switch and the voltage stopped.
“Will you hesitate next time?”
Ren fell off the operating table.
She was on a spaceship traveling through hyperspace. A leather strap secured her arm to the table.
“An Emperess must not hesitate,” Lissa said. She entered a command on the door, and it opened.
Ren watched every keystroke…
Ten…
Five…
Four…
She grouped the last numbers into a sequence, as her algebra teacher taught her to do.
Ninety three thousand seven hundred and thirty nine…two four.
Her mind was hyper-aware, and she noticed everything, even the hairs on Grubeck’s arms as she exited the room.
She filed the numbers away.
Dyne picked Ren up. She was sweating, hardly able to speak.
“It's for your own good,” he said, laying her on the table.
Ren reached toward the ceiling, unable to respond.
She wished she were anywhere but here, but the message was clear—never disagree. Always commit.
Every inch of her body rebelled, but her mind reeled as it tried to reconcile her conflicting feelings.
Never show emotion. Always show emotion.
Never disagree. Always agree.
Love the empire. Hate the empire.
She rested her head against the table, breathing heavily.
“I…can't…do this,” she whispered.
She thought of all the people across the empire, pledging their allegiance to her…to this…this carnage…this abuse…no one should have been okay with this. This was not okay. Yet they would probably be okay with it…They would praise the empire and say…that her pain was warranted…that pain was justified…
She couldn't process it. She couldn't accept any of it. All the hive fathers and hive mothers and underground schools training future drones…to do what?
She rolled onto her side, watched hyperspace blazing by.
So beautiful…
How wonderful would it feel to throw herself out there, drift into nothing among the stars…
She freed herself from the leather strap and tried to stand. Her legs were shaky and weak, and her brain hurt. Not like a headache. But a sore, dull pain, a fuzzy, cloudlike pain that spread to every muscle and every bone, and it just wouldn't localize. Everything was a daze.
She pulled her robe off the floor and put it on, shaking.
She staggered into the hallway. It was dim, with green lines in the walls illuminating the path forward.
Several soldiers in battle armor passed her and saluted. She ignored them, trudging toward the bridge, a large clam-shelled door in the distance.
Outside, the ship slowed down and exited hyperspace. As the purple light faded, she noticed hundreds of black and white Zachary cruisers flying by at rapid speed.
There were more ships than she'd ever seen in her life.
An intercom beeped.
“All units, report to your stations.”
More soldiers ran by, their armor clacking as they passed.
She reached the clamshell door to the bridge, and it slid open.
The bridge was a circular room filled with soldiers and scientists, all talking feverishly. Ahead, through the giant curved window, a nebula spread out across the stars, a wispy cloud of pink, purple, blue and white. It reminded her of a staircase.
The Solstice Nebula.
The edge of the Zachary Galaxy and the beginning of the Rah Galaxy.
To cross this line with warships would mean…war.
Lissa had her hands clasped behind her back, and she conversed with Dyne.
They turned and saw her enter.
“Praise be to Your Highness,” Lissa said.
Screw you.
“I accept your praise,” Ren said confidently as she could.
“Our troops are ready to attack,” Lissa said, pointing to a star map. Hundreds of red blinking dots moved across the holographic surface of the galaxy. “We attack at your command.”
My command?
Attack at MY command?
Screw you!
“Tell me when you recommend we strike,” Ren said. “I will…gladly give the order.”
Lissa stared at Ren for a moment, studying her every move. Her gaze lingered a little longer than Ren liked.
“Very good,” Lissa said.
At that moment, a giant fleet of Argus ships burst out of hyperspace.
The boar she had seen earlier appeared on the television screen. A translator spoke over him.
“Bok bok…we are glad to see our offer did not intimidate you, Emperess. You may just win our trust after all.”
“We are ready, and my troops await my command,” Ren said.
The boar sniffed, then grunted.
“We will lead the charge,” he said. “Follow as you see fit.”
The Argus disconnected.
Then, the Argus ships blasted by at light speed, disappearing into purple stitches of light.
Ren pointed at the window. A voice inside her head screamed.
No! Don't do it!
But instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Destroy the Rah Galaxy!”
The soldiers on the bridge cheered.
She stared ahead, faking a crazed look as the ship jumped into hyperspace.
28
Devika had been waiting for hours in an interrogation room. Back on Macalestern.
She knew the process.
They booked her, took her fingerprints. Left her in a room for a while so she could think about what she'd done.
She'd used this tactic many times. She put a lot of criminals in jail using this exact tactic.
Except this time, she hadn't done anything.
She remained calm, told herself that Miller was just doing his job. She would have treated him the same way. GALPOL respect.
But she found herself wishing she'd made time to return his calls. Maybe all of this could have been avoided.
But it didn't matter now.
She had to tell the truth.
Hopefully Miller would listen.
The door opened and Miller entered, still in his black trench coat and fedora.
He tipped his hat, then took it off.
“Miss Sharma,” he said, “I'm sorry I kept you waiting. And I really do mean that.”
Miller sat down at the other end of the table. He propped up his tablet and recorded their encounter. The tiny, pinhole-shaped camera recorded Devika’s every move.
“Forgive me,” Miller said, pausing the camera. “I assume you know how all this works, and I figured I'd skip all the little formalities since you and I are peers. That okay?”
Devika nodded.
Miller resumed the recording. Then he clasped his hands and leaned forward.
“Miss Sharma, this is an interrogation. And quite frankly, I'm shocked to be sitting on the other side of you. We ought to have been working together. You could have aired your grievances with headquarters instead of resorting to murder—”
“I didn't commit murder.”
“You say that,” Miller said, “but that doesn't jive with the facts I've gathered.”
“Allow me to—”
Miller shook his head.
“I'm not done yet.”
His voice was harsh, cold.
“I've got a lot of problems with you,” Miller said. “I know that people like us are broken. We all join the force bec
ause we've been to some dark places. God knows I have. But you took it too far. It's almost as if secrecy is a fetish of yours. You just thirst for it, Miss Sharma.”
Silence.
“I'm going to lay out some facts, and then let's see what you say,” Miller said, “because honestly, I don't know how you escape any of this without a noose around your neck—figuratively speaking.”
Miller pulled out another tablet and read slowly from it.
“You're born on Bartholomew IV to a loving family. For reasons outside of your control, your parents abandoned you. Or sold you. Who knows. You end up as a pauper on the streets of Coppice. Makes sense. Arguses abduct you into slavery, and you experience a childhood that no kid should have to endure. Seriously, Devika—reading this crap made my physically sick.”
Miller lost his place on the document, but then found it again. “Where was I? Ah—you're rescued, become somewhat of a temporary media sensation for surviving the Arguses, and then you get adopted by Mary. Perfect fairy tale ending, and the best thing that could have happened to you. Psychiatric records are a bit rocky at first, like maybe you're going to commit suicide or do something drastic. But you come out of it all okay. A little bent, but not broken. You join the academy—I would have done the same thing—citing such a noble cause. All the makings of a great agent. You pass the academy under the radar, with flying colors. You're an agent for approximately four years, working some good cases. The Lord’s work, I say—being a rookie, you know…”
Miller chuckled. Then he shrugged. “Sterling record, Devika. Really. It's stunning. It's as fine as any agent who joins the force. You had your whole life ahead of you. You could have done anything.”
Miller slid a physical document across the table.
A Manila folder.
“But instead,” Miller said, “you go off half-cocked and do this.”
Devika opened the folder reluctantly.
A transcript of access. A bunch of time stamps and database searches next to it.
Zachary Empire.
Tavin Miloschenko.
She winced.
“Is that remorse, or simply being sorry for getting caught?” Miller asked.
She folded her arms.
“You could have been forgiven if you had just stopped there,” Miller said. “We all get slapped on the wrist sometimes for overstepping our bounds. It wouldn't have been the end of your career. But Miloschenko wasn't even your case. He was the most egregious offender. Hell, he had a whole team watching his every move. Within legal parameters, that is. They were building a case against him. But you couldn't help yourself. Was it an inner compass toward righteousness? A desire to see the biggest human trafficker in the galaxy thrown in jail —the same man who perhaps was indirectly behind your own enslavement as a child—”
Devika’s eyes widened.
“No—”
“You wanted him to pay,” Miller said, “you wanted him dead.”
“No—”
Miller banged the table. “You used your influence and access as a GALPOL agent. You broke the very oath that you swore to uphold—”
“Stop!”
“You were so cavalier as to confront a man that GALPOL had been avoiding conflict with out of fear of retaliation, and threaten him. Come on, you think we don't monitor the Zachary communications? You spooked the hell out of Miloschenko. And then you backed him into a corner like a caged animal, and you had no choice but to kill him in cold blood.”
“Please. Ryan—”
“Devika, stop denying. It's only going to make this worse. You assume I don't know anything else, but I'm just getting started. We found your fingerprints all over Miloschenko’s ship. We have a murder weapon with your prints on it. You're going to spend life in jail. Maybe I can help you. Just confirm or deny my theory. I don't want to hear a story. For me, this is pretty cut and dry.”
“Your theory is full of holes,” Devika said. She stared at the camera. “For the record, I did not kill anyone other than Arguses during my journey. And where I did, I was justified.”
Miller puffed.
“The man who killed Miloschenko is walking free, and let the record show that you let him go, Ryan.”
“You're saying that Florian Macalestern killed Miloschenko?”
Devika nodded.
“It doesn't add up,” Miller said. “I don't have his prints anywhere on the ship.”
“I'm an officer,” Devika said. “If I wanted to kill Miloschenko, I would have done it with a handcoil.”
Miller paused.
“Sure. But you know how this works, Devika. If I were a cop, and I wanted to get away with murder, I’d—”
“Use an unlikely weapon,” Devika said. “Maybe. But did you examine my knife skills at the academy? I was terrible with blades.”
Miller paused again. He ground his jaw.
“Florian Macalestern stabbed Miloschenko in the stomach,” Devika said. “Then he twisted. Miloschenko fell forward in a slumping motion. He tried to pull himself up, but fell forward onto his face. Did you find him in that position?”
Miller wrote something on his tablet.
“And it takes a good crew to fly a ship like Miloschenko’s observation ship,” Devika said. “Did you find their fingerprints? Or were Florian’s cronies that stupid?”
“None of that explains why you were there!” Miller cried. “You're just lying to distract me from—”
Devika slammed the table. “I was there because I wanted to lock him up!”
Her voice was loud, uproarious.
“I wanted to put him behind bars because scum like him deserves to be in jail for the rest of his life! If I had wanted to kill him, I would have tracked him down and done it already. You have no idea how much pain he caused me!”
“Why were you there?” Miller shouted.
“Because I violated protocol, okay?” Devika said. “I knew I shouldn't have, and my desire got the better of me. But ultimately, Miloschenko got the better of me.”
Silence from the outburst settled between them.
“He shot my ship down,” Devika said. “And he sent his cyborg after me. I was captured. I overheard a secret meeting between Miloschenko and Florian. Miloschenko possessed the Planet Eaters and sold Florian access to them. I witnessed the aliens devour the planet Kepler. That's when Florian stabbed Miloschenko and took the aliens for himself.”
Miller looked flabbergasted.
“Review the date and time of death on Miloschenko’s autopsy. The next attack on Refugio came later. He couldn't have possibly done it. Surely the special investigation team knew about his aliens, did they not?”
Miller packed up his tablets.
“I don't need to hear anymore,” Miller said.
“No, there's one last thing you need to hear.”
Miller stopped before grabbing the door handle.
“Florian will stop at nothing to ensure his rise to CEO,” Devika said. “And he profits from chaos. This is your only chance to listen to me. If you don't, the galaxy’s destruction will be on your hands. Whatever fate I suffer for all your false allegations, you will be the one who has to live with yourself in the bowels of hell when you realize in this very moment, right here and right now, that you were wrong.”
Miller opened the door and slammed it behind him, keeping his expression neutral.
He left Devika alone.
So alone.
She waited, hopeful that Miller might return, that he might set her free.
But he didn't return.
She put her head in her arms.
And she waited.
For the end of the world.
29
Miller rested against the wall in the hallway of the jail.
The encounter with Sharma was too much for him to handle.
This was going to be a controversial case.
Not because she was guilty. But because she was an agent. With a compelling story.
In all his years in t
he force, he'd never done an interrogation like that.
He passed by several interrogation rooms.
Grayson McCoy.
Keltie Sheffield.
Eduardo Puente.
Michiko Lins.
He had a lot of interviews to do. He was going to be up all night at this rate.
“Christ. I need the strongest coffee I can find.”
He didn't even drink coffee. But he needed it right about now.
And then he passed by the final room.
A cyborg was inside, sitting ominously, unblinking, with one arm handcuffed to the table.
Miller passed.
Then stopped.
He backed up and cocked his head.
“What in the name of—”
Smoke blinked.
Miller dropped his tablets.
He barged into the room, startling the cyborg.
“You,” Miller said. “You…you—”
“Fuck you,” Smoke said.
“I locked you away,” Miller said weakly. “I sent you to Defestus.”
Smoke stared at him.
“You're a clone,” Miller said.
“I'm me.”
“You're a goddamned clone!” Miller said, backing away.
Smoke puffed.
“Where did you come from?” Miller asked.
“Defestus,” Smoke said. “You sent me there, remember?”
“You're just repeating what I said,” Miller said, sticking his head out of the room. “Somebody help! I need back up!”
A female police officer ran into the room.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“This must be some kind of joke,” Miller said.
“Oh, the cyborg,” the officer said. “We booked him while you were interrogating Sharma. I didn't want to interrupt you. But we ran his prints. Same as the cyborg you locked away. Goes by Smoke.”
Miller shook his head and hit his back against the wall. He slid down it, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“You should be dead,” he said. “Defestus was eaten.”
Smoke blinked.
“You creep me out,” Miller said. “Lobotomy and all.”
Smoke perked up.
“How did you know that?” Smoke asked.
The cyborg’s voice grew surprised, angry.
Horizon Down (Galaxy Mavericks Book 9) Page 12