Fortuna, p.30
Fortuna, page 30
part #1 of Nova Vita Protocol Series
“So whatever this was, it targeted humans specifically,” Misha muses, sipping a glass of shimmering fireberry wine as he listens to descriptions of genocide. “Perhaps intentionally. A weapon of some sort.”
“Are we really meant to believe the Titans had the technology to create something like this?” Leonis’s voice floods my chest with hot anger—and shock that she would be the first one to imply blame rests on one of the other planets. But I see her intent as Misha and the Nibirans immediately cast glances in the direction of the Paxian representative. Anyway, given Leonis’s history of distrust toward the other planets, I suppose it would be stranger if she didn’t make accusations.
Eri makes a disgruntled noise beside me, folding his arms over his chest. His home-world, Pax, is well-known for manufacturing the majority of the system’s laser weapons and playing a bit too hard with genetic engineering—an easy scapegoat.
“If we had a weapon of such power, I assure you we would not place it in the hands of the Titans,” Azenari says coolly. “Nor would they have the means to pay for it.”
“A very fair point,” Halon says with a nod. I grit my teeth. But as much as the arms dealers rub me the wrong way, it’s important for me to listen to their comments. Public opinion is the best way for me to gauge whether or not the council will believe my story. I’m surprised Scorpia isn’t here listening in as well—but maybe she’s already so set on her plan that she doesn’t care. She must be at the bar getting herself a drink.
“Perhaps it was not a weapon at all, then,” Leonis says. She seems eager to drive the conversation, keep suspicion off herself. “Maybe it was a disease, and we are seeing the aftermath.” Now she looks pointedly at the Nibiran council members. Oshiro’s pale face splotches with anger.
“How dare you once again accuse—”
“Now, now,” Misha says, flapping his hands. “Let us not dredge up old grudges. The last council meeting already put the matter of the plague to rest.”
“Yes, I do recall that your planets all agreed,” Leonis says icily. “But if such an accident could happen once, why not again? Nibiru sells algae rations to Titan, does it not? A drone shipment could have carried a disease.”
“We have no evidence that any algae harvests have been tainted. I’ll provide the necessary records to prove it,” Heikki says, resting a hand on Oshiro’s shoulder. I study Oshiro’s face, hoping to find a potential ally, but their expression is unreadable now. “Regardless, given how quickly this happened, it seems ridiculous to blame it on a simple disease. But, on the other hand, Gaia is the closest to Titan. I’m sure you had dealings. And with your love for that wicked alien technology—”
“You believe we would let such a precious resource fall into Titan hands?” Leonis asks, her voice loud and furious. I’m sure she doesn’t have to fake it when that accusation drifted so close to the truth. I lean forward, hope surging up. This is it. Someone needs to see through her lies. “Gaia would never have a hand in such barbarism. And why would we give them a weapon that they could use against us? The Titans were always jealous of our world.”
“I’m almost offended that no one has accused me yet,” Misha says.
A group of drunkards in the corner laughs, and I grimace at the derailing of the conversation. This must be how the man has maintained a foothold in the dangerous world of Devan politics. He’s more of an entertainer than a leader, and Devans do love their entertainment. The other planetary leaders, on the other hand, are less than amused by Misha’s antics.
“Your comments help no one, Prime Minister,” Heikki says.
“Perhaps he does have a point,” says Azenari. “Deva has always struggled to harvest natural minerals, with those plants overtaking the mines. It could have been easier to use Titan as a resource.”
“Such extreme lengths to avoid paying a pittance for raw materials? I think not,” Misha says, looking rather pleased at having successfully taken the spotlight. The Paxian scrutinizes him while the two Nibirans murmur among themselves. Leonis clears her throat.
“It is possible I spoke too hastily,” she says. “In reality, we all know Titan was a difficult planet. There would be little strategic value for any of us to take it. And, with that horrible war, the Titans have seemed on the path to this end for a while now.”
There is a long pause. I wait, holding my breath, hoping that someone—anyone—will call Leonis out on her lies, or at least speak up for my people. Let them give us the benefit of the doubt, see us as more than a planet hell-bent on self-destruction. If a single person believes there’s more to the story, it will give me a chance to go forward with the truth.
“The Titans have always been creative about finding ways to kill each other,” the Paxian says. “Perhaps they finally became too good at it.”
The two Nibirans confer briefly. I keep my eyes on Oshiro, who seems the most likely to go against the grain after that earlier outburst against Leonis.
“The most obvious answer is often the most correct one,” Oshiro says, though they sound reluctant. My heart sinks.
“We will discuss further, of course, but unless new evidence surfaces, I see no reason to suspect one another,” Misha says with a shrug. “Now, moving forward…”
I turn away in disgust. Not one of them defended Titan. So quick to accuse one another, to place blame—but where is the grief? The regret? The sympathy? There’s a heat in my chest and a buzzing in my ears that have been growing ever since we arrived here—no, ever since Scorpia decided that she would rather make a deal with Leonis than make her pay. Damn Leonis, and all those other smiling politicians so eager to pass Titan off as a planet of barbarism, as an inevitable conclusion rather than a horrible tragedy. Damn Scorpia. Damn them all. I’m the only one left in this system to know how much was lost. I’m the sole mourner for good people like General Altair, and my team, and so many innocent lives.
Maybe Scorpia was right. Even if we told the truth, there was never a chance that anyone would believe us. Just like the Titans, no one has ever given my family the benefit of the doubt. They’ll never trust us. But I’m not going to be part of a deal with Leonis. I can’t. Not even for Pol. If bringing the truth to the council isn’t an option, then I’ll find another one.
Such as killing Leonis. The moment the thought occurs to me, it feels right. Even if the world doesn’t know what she did, I can make her suffer for it. If I can get close enough, it will be simple. It’s what I’m good at. What I’ve been trained to do. Afterward I’ll be imprisoned or killed myself, of course, but a death to avenge my people wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. And my family doesn’t need me anymore; they have Scorpia now.
“So sad,” Eridanus says, tugging on his beard and dragging my thoughts back to the bar. “With Titan off the market, we may have to reconsider our profession.”
“Not if this ends in war,” Halon says. Catching my glance, he hastily adds, “Not that I would ever hope for such a thing. God forbid.” He shudders. “Things are looking quite bleak, though. Did you see how quickly they went for one another’s throats? And on an interplanetary broadcast, no less.”
Their conversation shifts into lowered tones, and I turn to my sisters. Lyre is standing with her arms folded over her chest, and Drom is nursing a beer in silence.
“We need to get out of here,” I say. “Before—” Before I do something stupid. “Before the representatives head back to their ships. Maybe we can catch Leonis on her way there.” And make her pay, regardless of what Scorpia wants. My brow furrows as I realize I don’t see her anywhere. I crane my neck to look at the bar.
“Looks like Scorpia is a couple steps ahead of you,” Lyre says.
“What?” My head snaps back toward her.
“She left right after the meeting started. Without a word.” She looks none too pleased about that. I’m not sure what she expected when she started supporting Scorpia.
“I was focused on the broadcast. Isn’t that why we came here?” I let out a frustrated sigh. Leave it to Scorpia to wander astray from her own plan… Unless she’s already moving forward without us. My chest tightens. I need to stop her. “So where the hell did she go?”
“She seemed stressed out,” Drom offers. “Maybe she went to sample the wares.”
“What wares?”
My sisters exchange a look.
“She’s talking about prostitutes,” Lyre says. Seeing the look on my face, she adds more defensively, “Perfectly legal here. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“There is when we have a very important, very time-sensitive purpose,” I say through gritted teeth. Time is running out. “Stop joking around.”
“You can be real Gaian about these things sometimes,” Drom says.
“Must be those Gaian sensibilities of yours,” Magda teases in my memory.
I lunge toward her without thinking, without considering what I plan to do. Lyre steps in between us and grabs my arm; Drom’s eyes go wide. The look on her face, more than Lyre’s grip, holds me in place.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lyre snaps.
“You don’t get it.” My heart drums an angry beat in my chest. It’s all too much. Those drunks, the arms dealers—now not even my family is taking this seriously. The crowded bar presses in on me from all sides. “None of you fucking get it.” I look at Drom, who is feigning indifference as she sips her beer. “Never call me Gaian again.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Drom mutters, avoiding eye contact. She rubs one thumb over a scar on her arm. “Just a joke.”
Lyre releases me to pull out her comm and frown at it.
“Scorpia messaged me,” she says. “She wants us to meet her in an apartment building near the landing zone. Says it’s urgent.” She sighs. “What has she done now?”
“Let’s go find out,” I say, and head for the door with them on my heels, shoving my way through the crowd. The rising chatter is making my head pound; the heat of bodies is stifling. But most of all, I’m thinking of what Scorpia could be doing right now. Of course she would move ahead by herself. Take away any chance I have at a better option. It might already be too late for me to stop her. Too late for all of us.
As I pass by the table of drunks, one of them breaks into a botched version of the Titan planetary anthem, peppered with a generous amount of profanity.
My feet come to a stop. All thoughts flee my head. I move by instinct.
I grab a fistful of the closest man’s hair and slam his face into the wooden table. Twice, and a third time, and just as there’s a satisfying crack of his nose breaking, his friends overcome their shock and lunge at me.
The first one trips over his own feet in a drunken stupor, but the second manages to entangle himself with me, and we go down in a heap at Drom’s feet. She steps back, her face impassive, and leaves me to my own mess.
Not that I have any problems handling it on my own. These men are Devans, made soft by the decadent Zi Vi lifestyle, and so drunk they can barely keep track of their own fists. They’re lucky I decide not to pull my weapon. Instead, I leave one howling on the ground with a broken wrist, and rise to my feet before the other one manages to stand. I seize him by the collar the moment he does, and throw him across the nearest table, sending glasses shattering to the floor and patrons scattering. He lies still on his back, groaning, beer dripping off the table beneath him. The last member of the group is still sitting at the table, clutching his bloodied face.
But now the owners of that spilled beer are standing to meet me, and other furious eyes watch from the rest of the suddenly quiet bar. Too late, I remember a lesson Momma taught me on our first visit to Deva: “You won’t get arrested for something as mundane as a bar fight, but you will get your ass kicked for ruining someone’s good time.”
I glance over my shoulder for support, stomach sinking as I realize I just sabotaged my own plan without even thinking about it. Drom is doing her best to pretend not to know me, and the arms dealers are slipping out the door. Lyre stands with her comm in her hand and a resigned look on her face.
“I’ll tell Scorpia we’re going to be late,” she says.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Blood Ties
Scorpia
Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass in an increasingly tense quiet. The apartment complex I told Shey to meet me in is empty except for a few homeless Devans camped out in the floors below. It was easy enough to find an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, where struggling against the jungle is an everyday occurrence. This complex was initially shut down for dolor-tree infestation, and the city must have seized the property, likely because the owner couldn’t pay to handle the issue. Now, the tall building is acquiring dust and waiting for someone to buy it. Knowing Zi Vi, it won’t take too long. I shift and check my comm, receiving nothing, barely resisting the urge to message Shey again or check in with my siblings. The shots I took in that bar are hitting me harder than I expected—Devans certainly like their shit strong—and my spinning head isn’t doing me any favors as I wait. Finally, I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Even knowing what I have planned, seeing Shey again makes my heart jump against my ribs. She’s wearing her usual stiff Gaian clothing and gloves, her thick hair frizzing in the humidity. Her look is beyond understated on a planet like this, yet I know I’d pick her face out of any crowd.
She steps forward and holds her gloved hands out toward me, palms facing the sky and fingers spread. The gesture sends a jolt of surprise through me. I know that gesture—a traditional Gaian greeting, but unlike the crossed arms she gave me last time, this one is informal, familiar. It’s a greeting for your family and friends—your “in-group,” as Gaians think of it. No one has ever greeted me like that before. I’ve never been accepted in such a way by a Gaian.
When she sees my shock, Shey closes her hands into fists and crosses her arms in a smooth transition to the more formal greeting, mistaking my surprise for a rejection. I quickly hold my hands out, mirroring the gesture she first performed. It feels strange and alien, as if I must be doing something wrong, but Shey’s dazzling smile soothes my worry. I force a smile of my own as we both let our arms fall to our sides.
“Well,” she says, looking me over in a way that really shouldn’t make my pulse race, given the situation. “This Devan style suits you.”
“You should’ve tried it yourself,” I say with a half smile. “Though I imagine the Devans are jealous of all the attention that outfit brings. A Gaian on Deva. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Me neither,” she admits. “I doubt my mother would have ever brought me here if not for…” She halts as if realizing she’s saying something she shouldn’t.
“The storms on Gaia? Yeah, I saw the newscast.” I search her face for any hints about what might be happening, but she only nods, her expression guarded.
“What in the world is a ‘dolor-tree,’ by the way?” she asks, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Should I be concerned about this infestation?”
“Just don’t touch any of those curly leaves along the stairwell. Very painful, very toxic. The rash can last over a year.”
“Stars above,” Shey murmurs, with a wary glance around the area. “I wish I could say that’s the worst thing I’ve heard of on this planet. And their food is also… quite something. Everything is either sickeningly sweet or painfully spicy.”
“Devans aren’t fond of subtlety,” I say with a laugh. As soon as I realize how easily I’m smiling, guilt curls in my belly. I’m not here for small talk. As much as I wish it weren’t so, I have bigger things to focus on than the attention of a beautiful woman. And unfortunately for both of us, my plans involve ruining any slim chance I had for a friendship—or more—forever.
But there’s no time for guilt. This is about my family, and nothing is more important than my blood. Not my moral compass, and certainly not my heart.
“I was so glad to get your message,” Shey says, pulling my attention back to her. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, after… last time.” She takes a breath, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I hope you know that I immediately went to my mother to beg for your release. But at that point, you had already… well.”
“Broken out of jail and caused mass panic?”
I catch a brief glimpse of a smile on Shey’s face before she covers it with one hand and clears her throat.
“Yes. That.” Her tone manages to be serious, but when she lowers her hand, there’s still a ghost of a smile on her lips. My heart flutters.
Damn. Damn. A million times, damn. If only things were different.
“I’m hoping you took extra precautions not to be trailed this time?” I ask, arching my eyebrows at her.
“Of course. As you can imagine, my mother is too preoccupied to keep many eyes on me,” Shey says. “And it’s important that we aren’t interrupted. There’s something very important I need to talk to you about.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
I step forward. While she looks up at me, face full of curiosity and not a hint of suspicion, I pull the blaster out from the back of my pants and push the barrel into her stomach. I’m close enough to hear her let out a soft gasp, and read every line of the betrayal written on her face when she looks down to see the gun. She stares at me, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. I swallow my guilt and lean forward, putting my mouth right next to her ear. “The moment your mother is out of that meeting, tell her to come here. Alone.”
I pace back and forth as I wait for Leonis to show, keeping my blaster trained on Shey. She’s remained frozen in place ever since I pulled my gun on her, but the threat of the weapon doesn’t keep her from glaring at me.
“I don’t understand why you won’t simply talk to me,” she says. “I believe we can help each other—”
“Don’t make me gag you.” I avoid looking directly at her, knowing it will only make me feel guilty. My conscience won’t stop me now like it did with Ives. If I hadn’t failed then, we wouldn’t be forced to turn to Leonis in our time of need. But now, I have no choice but to make this risky move.
