Fortuna, p.23
Fortuna, page 23
part #1 of Nova Vita Protocol Series
“Great,” Scorpia mutters. “Just great. The golden boy’s back, so who gives a fuck about me, right?”
Before I can even think about responding, she lets out a huff, turns her back, and storms off. I watch her go, guilt heavy in my stomach—but I have no other choice. I need to be what Momma wants me to be, at least until I’m safely off this planet. Then… then I’ll try to fix everything.
Altair and Momma are still seated in the negotiations room when I reenter. At Momma’s gesture, I set the cargo beside her and sit on the sidelines. I can’t stop thinking about the look on Scorpia’s face when I told her to go, but I push down my guilt as far as I can manage. This situation is just as dangerous as the war, and just like in battle, there’s no room for emotions here.
“First things first,” Momma says. “Let’s see what you have.”
“Very well.” Altair reaches under his desk and pulls out a metal box of his own. He sets it on the desk between them and carefully removes the top. I suppress a gasp as I recognize the faint glow emanating from within.
The power source. The heart of the alien ship. The very thing I worked so hard to bring him. He’s trading it for some alien weapon? Though I know it’s unreasonable, somehow this deal feels like a betrayal, both to me and to the general I thought Altair was.
Then again, the fault is my own as well. I never asked what the power source was for. I never even thought to ask. I just followed orders, as always. As I’m doing now.
“Beautiful,” Momma murmurs, leaning over to peer into the depths of the box. “President Leonis will be pleased.”
President Leonis? Somehow, the more I learn about this deal, the more confused I become.
Altair replaces the box’s top and nods to her.
“Now, show me what you’ve brought.”
Momma reaches down, opening the boxes one after another and placing four glass vials on the desk. They seem almost completely clear at first glance, but when the light hits them, a barely perceptible glimmer of color appears in their depths. I frown. Is this really a weapon that can end the war? It looks so small, so insubstantial, especially in comparison to the things I’ve seen here on Titan… though in an odd way, the swirling colors remind me of the steady movement on that alien ship. The longer I look at the vials, the more they fill me with unease—and yet, at the same time, it’s hard to look away.
Momma stiffens upon opening the last box, pulling me from my thoughts. Altair is busy studying the other vials, but I watch her, my own body tensing at her quiet alarm. After a long moment, she shuts the box, straightens up in her seat, and folds her empty hands on her lap.
“As you can understand, the president had a few reservations about Gaia’s first interplanetary deal of this magnitude,” she says, her face unreadable, her tension subdued but not gone. “At her request, we will be holding on to the final vial until the power source is secure on our ship.”
Altair tears his eyes away from the vials. The corners of his mouth tighten.
“That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Well, it is now.”
I glance back and forth between the two of them, unsure if I should say something. Neither is outwardly hostile yet, but the tension is palpable. My heart rate rises. Why would Momma change the terms of the deal at the last minute? She knows as well as I do how suspicious Altair can be. I think again of Momma tensing the moment she opened the final box, how quickly she closed it. The box that Scorpia retrieved and brought here. My blood goes cold.
No. She couldn’t have taken it. She knew how much danger it would put us in. She wouldn’t do that. Would she?
“Then I have an additional condition as well,” Altair says, rising from his seat. “You will accompany one of my sergeants to test the weapon before the agreement is finalized.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no soldier.”
“And I’m no fool. I will have the weapon demonstrated or the deal is off.”
Momma is silent for a long moment. I know she hates to get her hands dirty in such a way. But what choice does she have? She’s merely a middle-woman between two planets. She has nothing to negotiate with.
Then she glances at me, and my stomach drops as I see her calculating eyes. She does have one option. She could send me in her stead. Please, I think at her desperately, though I can’t bring myself to speak. Please, no more. Don’t send me back to the war.
“Fine,” Momma says, her eyes snapping back to the general. “As you wish.”
Altair nods briskly.
“And will the former sergeant be accompanying you?” he asks without looking at me.
I don’t miss the former jab. I press my lips into a grim line and look away from him, waiting for Momma’s answer.
“He will not. Unless you’d like to leave a group of off-worlders unsupervised in the city?”
I try to hide my shock. As much as I hoped for this, I didn’t expect it. She’s actually sparing me from this. She’s letting me stay.
“Fine,” Altair says. “He stays. You and I will leave immediately.”
I rise with them, and move over to Momma before she leaves.
“What should I tell the others?” I ask. She looks at me, her face unexpectedly soft, and raises a hand to touch my cheek. I stay completely still, discomfited by the affection.
“My boy,” she murmurs. “I really am so proud of you.” I stare at her, unsure what to say to that. After a moment, she lowers her hand, and her face hardens as if that moment of vulnerability never happened. “Tell them I’m attending to business and I’ll be back in the morning.” She grimaces. “And tell your sister I’ll deal with her when I get back.”
My mind races as we step into the hallway outside. So Scorpia did take the vial, as I suspected. But why? What is she planning? My sister must have known how much danger this put us in.
One of the soldiers stops to block my path as Momma and Altair head farther into the building. Momma looks back at me one last time, hesitating as if she wants to say something more. But instead, she nods silently and follows Altair. I watch until they disappear around the corner, trying to ignore the dread thickening in my stomach.
I’m being foolish. Momma will be back in the morning, and she can handle herself. She’s not the one I should be worrying about. But Scorpia, an unaccompanied off-worlder alone in Drev Dravaask, possibly with a weapon of mass destruction in her possession… now that’s a situation that could result in disaster.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Risky Game
Scorpia
Fucking Corvus. I storm down the stairs of the building, seething and swearing under my breath. Less than twenty-four hours back with the family and he’s already reclaimed his spot as Momma’s favorite. Even after he abandoned the family, even when he’s so obviously changed, she still loves him the most. I hate how quickly Momma forgave him. How quickly she decided to choose him over me. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the family does the same.
Unless I can do something to change their minds. I pause at the bottom of the stairwell and pull the vial out of my pocket, watching the omni-colored shimmer swirl inside. Looking at it makes me feel queasy. Of course it had to be alien shit.
On our journey here, I thought about stealing a peek at what we were carrying, but my plans were always cut short when it came to opening up those damn crates. When I retrieved them for Momma here, I realized she must have some contingency plan, some way for another family member to open the crates if something happened to her. And of course she’d choose Corvus.
So, of all the stars-damned numbers in the galaxy, Momma chose Corvus’s military identification numbers. The same digits tattooed on his wrist. I might laugh if not for the bitter jealousy filling my stomach.
I push the vial back into my pocket and compose myself before I enter the lobby, plastering on a smile as I approach the bored-looking young man behind the front desk.
“Hi,” I say, placing my palms on the desk and leaning over. “I’m here with Captain Kaiser. I’m supposed to go talk to…”
I pause, recalling Altair’s words. “If you wanted to sell bullshit, you should have gone to Ives.”
“General Ives?” I guess. “Where can I find them?”
He glances up at me briefly before dropping his eyes again, fiddling with a comm even more outdated than the one I carry.
“Recruitment center, probably,” he says, and taps away at his screen.
“Right. Thanks.”
Outside, I take a deep breath of the cold city air and break into a smile, pushing thoughts of Corvus and my mother far from my mind. If this vial is as powerful as Momma claims it is, I’ll be able to make a hell of a lot of credits off of it. Enough credits to be able to support myself and my younger siblings. If I can get back to them before Momma and Corvus do, maybe I can use that to win them over before Corvus steals their hearts, too. I can give them a choice, and make one for myself as well, rather than being completely at Momma’s mercy.
Part of me loathes the thought of carrying this vial, let alone selling it to someone without knowing what it does. But this is my last chance to control my own fate, and I have to take it.
I don’t know Drev Dravaask well, but the recruitment center is the easiest place in the whole city to locate. I follow a trail of bold neon signs and obnoxious posters right up to its steps. FIGHT FOR YOUR PLANET, one banner declares, with an image of a standard-issue pulse rifle. FOR HEART, FOR HOMELAND, another reads, depicting a beautiful young woman with her fingers over her heart and her eyes turned skyward.
The building itself is sturdy and square. Colorful banners hang from the windows, depicting Titan’s flag and the Interplanetist symbol. Young soldiers, each branded but otherwise yet unmarked by the war, hand out flyers on the street side. Titan’s planetary anthem plays from speakers behind them, loud enough that they have to shout to be heard above it. While everyone on Titan has to serve a compulsory three years of their life, offices like these are eager to sign people up for longer contracts with better benefits.
As I walk up to the tall double doors, I imagine Corvus—younger, fresh-faced, scarless Corvus—approaching them three years ago, and shiver. I still don’t understand how or why he would do that. Most Titans know only the glorified bullshit propaganda tells them, but he knew what the war was really like. And from what I’ve seen of him now, it changed him in all the ways I feared it would. Part of me feels bad about the way things have already soured between us… but he’s the one who abandoned me, I keep telling myself. And he’s the one who’s still wrapped around Momma’s finger. Maybe once I have my ship and my future secure, I’ll be able to find a way to mend things. But not now. Right now, I need to seize my last chance and secure some money and power before Momma gives everything to Corvus.
I walk through the double doors, past the soldiers and the flags, and directly up to the front desk. This one has five receptionists at work, each of them young and disgustingly full of Titan patriotism. Four of them are already engaged with visitors, including a strikingly handsome young man who’s speaking to no less than three girls feigning interest in the service, so I approach the last and clear my throat. She smiles up at me, her fingers poised over a holographic keyboard.
“I’m here to speak to General Ives,” I say, trying to sound confident.
“Do you have an appointment with her?”
“No, but I’ve been sent directly by General Altair. Trust me, she’ll want to see me.”
The bullshit works. Soon enough, a soldier appears to escort me upstairs. He leaves me in a hallway on the third floor, where a uniformed woman who must be the general waits.
Ives is a handsome, well-muscled woman not much older than Corvus, with shoulder-length brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Like most Titans, she’s startlingly pale. While General Altair was all aged expertise and tightly coiled control, Ives is one of the youngest generals I’ve seen on this planet, and she has a dangerous look about her. Her eyes track me as I approach, though the rest of her body remains perfectly still. Her smile is sharp-edged.
“I don’t know you,” she says. The words are somehow a statement, a question, and a threat all at once.
I swallow, fighting down nerves. As annoying as Corvus was back in that room with Altair, I know he was right. I can’t act antsy here, not if I want her to trust me. These people are eager to be suspicious if given half a reason. I find my mind wandering to Shey as an example of how to compose myself, though the mental image of her brings a surge of pain and betrayal with it. I square my shoulders and lift my chin as I press my fingers to my heart.
“My name is Scorpia Kaiser,” I say. “Eldest daughter of Auriga Kaiser, captain of the Fortuna and loyal supporter of the Interplanetist cause.”
“Kaiser.” Her eyes crinkle in recognition. “As in Sergeant Corvus Kaiser?”
It’s a strange feeling to hear my brother referred to in such a way, with a title I wouldn’t have known to call him, but I force a smile.
“The very one.”
“One of Altair’s favorites,” she says, with another knife’s edge of a smile. “I heard he had family off-world.”
“We all serve the cause in our own way.”
“True enough.” She studies me. “So your family knows General Altair, then. Why are you here instead of with him?”
“My mother is seeing him right now.” Better to slide in some slivers of truth when I can, lend more believability to the story. “He suggested you might be interested in a piece of our product as well.”
“Product?”
“Weapon.”
Now that catches her interest. Her eyes narrow into a calculating look, and she gestures to a nearby doorway.
“Let’s talk, then.”
After we sit, she pours us two drinks, as Titans customarily do. Vodka has never been my favorite, but I’m grateful for anything to take the edge off. I cast a glance around the room as I down it, trying to gather useful information, but it’s plastered with recruitment posters rather than anything personal to Ives. The room is warm enough that I take off my outer coat for the first time since leaving the ship, draping the fabric over the back of my chair.
On Titan, as soon as the drinks are finished, small talk is over and business begins. So I jump straight into it.
I take a deep breath, put on my best saleswoman smile, and pull the vial out of my pocket. I hold it up to the light, illuminating the shimmering liquid inside it. Ives leans back in her chair, eyes following the vial’s movement, expression impossible to read.
“Primus tech,” I say. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, or how the hell I’m gonna sell something that I don’t understand, but I need to start talking before she catches on that I’m nervous. “There’s a reason people fear it. It doesn’t behave like our technology does. It lives, breathes… changes.” I run a thumb over the container, and the liquid inside ripples in response. “It goes above and beyond anything our technology is capable of. It’s—”
“So what is it?” Ives asks, cutting me off. She taps the fingers of one hand on the desk, her eyes on me rather than on the product I’m trying to sell.
“It’s a weapon,” I say, trying to sound confident despite her obvious and well-earned dubiousness. “A biological weapon beyond what humankind has—”
“You’ve already made that clear,” Ives says. “But what does it do?”
Shit. This is the part where I have to lie like I’ve never lied before. For all my efforts to investigate, and everything I gleaned from Momma, I haven’t the slightest idea how to use it, and I can’t exactly offer a demonstration. Plus, if I give details, Ives will know I’m a liar as soon as she uses it. If I do this right, on the other hand, she could be a lasting business contact, one not linked to my mother in any way. I’m going to need that if I intend to take over the family business.
I take a deep breath, lick my lips, and lower the vial. Even if I was willing to take my profits and never come back to Titan again after this deal, I don’t think I can bluff my way through a step-by-step explanation of an alien weapon I have no understanding of. But maybe I don’t need to.
“If you wanted to sell bullshit, you should have gone to Ives,” Altair had said.
“How about I skip the gory details and get right to the point?” I ask. “I’m selling you a weapon that kills people, quickly, and does no structural damage.” I set the vial down on the table between us. Ives’s eyes follow it, and flicker up to meet mine again rather than remaining there. “And more importantly… I’m selling you an end to the war.”
Momma’s words make a good closing line, but Ives doesn’t look as convinced as I had hoped.
“You really expect me to use a weapon without knowing what it does?” she asks. “What kind of general do you think I am?”
“Well, I heard you were the kind with ambition,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, Altair has already agreed to purchase the vials. He thought you might want a piece of the glory, but if not—”
“How generous of him to share some of it, for once,” Ives snaps. She grinds her teeth together, and I stay quiet, worried I struck the wrong nerve. “If Altair suggested me, there must be a reason.” She taps her fingers on the desk, staring at the vial. “It must be dangerous. That’s probably why you’re avoiding giving me details, too.”
How convenient for me that Ives is weaving her own story.
“I didn’t think you were the type to shy away from a little danger,” I say, leaning into it.
“I’m not.” She pauses and shakes her head. “But this is too much risk for me. I’m not going to send my people into the field with alien technology I don’t know anything about. I don’t know you. There’s something off about this.”
