Fortuna, p.35
Fortuna, page 35
part #1 of Nova Vita Protocol Series
“I see,” Shey says.
“I mean, not that it matters. Killing any of the planets would be terrible. Obviously.”
“Except for Pax,” Drom says. “Shitty-ass desert planet and its creepy mutant cows.”
“She’s kidding.”
Drom shrugs.
“Please,” Corvus speaks up, his tone full of barely restrained annoyance. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand. We have an important decision to make.”
Both Drom and I go silent at that.
“What decision is there?” Lyre pipes up from the end of the table. She sits with both hands in her lap, chewing her lower lip. “If we go against Leonis’s wishes, she’ll have Pol killed.”
“No,” Shey says. “All my mother really wants is a home. If we provide that through another way—a more peaceful way—she will honor your agreement and be grateful to you.”
“You can’t be certain of that,” Lyre says. “Especially when we don’t know if a peaceful method is possible. And if it fails, we won’t have another chance to try. We have one shot at this.” She takes a deep breath and looks down at her lap. “I appreciate your honesty, Scorpia, I really do. But I don’t think we can risk deviating from the original plan.”
“These are innocent people we’re talking about,” Corvus says, his voice getting heated already. I tense, worried he’s going to explode like he did last night. Seeing him like that—talking about things like bombing Gaia—frightened me. “Millions of innocent lives.”
“If we don’t do this, Leonis will find someone else,” Lyre says quietly, without looking up. “This way, at least we’ll be alive, and we’ll have our brother back.”
“I would do almost anything to have Apollo back, same as any of you, but this is too much,” Corvus says. “We have to believe that Shey is right, and her mother won’t harm him. This is a chance to stop the war here and now, before it consumes the rest of the system. Our one chance to stop it. We have to take it.”
He and Lyre both turn to me, each of them clearly seeking support. Drom stares down at the table. Shey has her eyes shut and her hands clasped to her chest. I swallow a lump in my throat and shake my head.
“I’m the one who got us into this mess,” I say. “I think I’ve made more than enough decisions for the family. This one is for the three of you to decide.”
All eyes turn to Drom now. She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose with one hand.
“You’re asking me to choose between my twin and my home-planet?” she asks. “Well. That’s a shitty choice if I ever heard one.” Though she aims to adopt her usual devil-may-care drawl, her voice trembles. “Seriously, why couldn’t it have just been Pax?”
“Think of all those people,” Corvus says in a low, urgent voice, leaning toward her. “The fishers, the storytellers, the children playing tag in the market every morning. You remember them all, don’t you? They welcomed us when no one else would.”
“Ugh, shut up.” She grimaces, covering her face with her hand.
“Think of Pol,” Lyre butts in quickly. “Think of never seeing him again. He needs us. He—”
“I can’t think about a damn thing with both of you talking!” Drom slams a fist on the table hard enough to make it rattle. She takes a deep breath, jaw clenched, and jabs a finger in Shey’s direction. “Prissy Gaian lady. Walk me through the plan if we do this your way.”
Shey’s eyes open, and she looks at Drom in shock. I have to admit I’m surprised as well. Of all of them, I wouldn’t have expected her to try to approach this from a reasonable viewpoint rather than let her emotions rule her.
“As Leonis’s daughter and a public figure in my own right, I have enough political pull to secure a hearing with the Nibiran Council,” Shey says, gazing at Drom with hesitant, rekindled hope. “Once there, I can explain the situation on Gaia and beg for refuge. I expect they’ll want something in return, and I’m sure Gaia will be willing to give up anything for a peaceful solution. Once we reach an agreement, I will contact my mother to make it official.”
“And you’re sure your mother will agree?” I ask. As much as I want to remain impartial, that part of the plan is difficult for me to believe, and we have to think of Pol’s safety. But Shey nods, her face full of complete confidence.
“My mother is only doing this because she believes there’s no other way. If there’s a peaceful alternative, she’ll take it.”
“You think she’ll take it,” Lyre says. “And that’s assuming that the Nibirans will agree to the plan in the first place.”
“You really believe they would turn away someone in need?” Shey asks. Her voice is full of honest confusion—but I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. My other siblings laugh as well, except for Corvus, who grimaces and shakes his head. Shey looks around at us, bewildered by the response.
“Your own planet isn’t exactly kind to people in need,” I explain to her, once I manage to stop my laughter. “Especially outsiders.”
Shey’s cheeks flush at my response, whether in guilt or embarrassment, but she doesn’t back down.
“I have faith they’ll make the right decision,” she says. “We’re human, just like them.”
“We can’t have a plan that hinges on faith,” Lyre says.
“Should we have left Pol for dead then?” Corvus asks. Lyre glares at him, two pinpricks of red rising in her cheeks.
“Of course not!”
“Both of you need to shut up,” I say, raising a hand to silence them as Lyre opens her mouth again. To my surprise, they listen, though they continue glaring at one another. “You’ve each said your piece. This is Drom’s call.” I turn to look at her. She’s rubbing the bridge of her nose again. “Drom, we need a decision. We’ll arrive at Nibiru in under twenty-four hours, and we have to know what to plan for. But no matter what you choose, we’re all in this together.”
I glance around the table. After a moment’s silence, Lyre murmurs her assent. Corvus stays quiet, his expression pained, but gives a small nod of agreement. Shey has her head bowed, awaiting judgment.
Drom lets out a long, low sigh and leans back in her chair.
“I never really liked Nibiru. Real dull place,” she says, her eyes distant, her mind somewhere other than this room. “But Pol loved it. He always said all his best memories were there. He’d talk about how we should both retire there one day.” She pauses, lips twisting into a wry grin. “I always argued for Deva, myself. But…” She shrugs. “When I see him again, I don’t wanna have to break the news that we killed everything he loved about the place.” She looks up at Shey and nods. “So let’s try your political shit.”
As much as I was trying to remain neutral on the issue, a knot in my chest relaxes at her final words, and I can’t help but smile. Shey breaks into a dazzling grin herself, extending her hands in a Gaian gesture of gratitude that makes Drom roll her eyes and look deeply uncomfortable.
“Don’t make me regret this,” she grumbles.
Meanwhile, Lyre mutters some excuse before fleeing down the stairs to the engine room. Corvus looks at Drom like he can hardly believe what he heard. He walks over and grips her shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says, the words coming out thick. Drom, looking supremely embarrassed at this point, shakes him off.
“If anyone starts crying, I will punch them,” she warns, and then half smiles. “Anyway, don’t thank me. Thank Pol when you see him again.”
Still smiling, I nod at her, and then at Shey, who is doing her best to blink away the tears in her eyes.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s figure out how to stop this war.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Something Worth Fighting For
Corvus
I wanted redemption, a reason that I survived Titan when so many others didn’t. Now here it is: a chance for peace. Drom’s shocking decision to negotiate with the Nibirans fills me with hope. The others seem similarly enthusiastic, because Shey and Scorpia immediately launch into discussion of the plan, while Drom begins some celebratory drinking. But as time goes on, doubt creeps into me.
I agree with the idea of this plan. It’s the only way to stop the war, and as shamefully as I reacted last night, I realize Shey is right: The average Gaian is entirely innocent in this. They don’t deserve to be punished for their leader’s mistakes any more than the people of Titan deserved to die for Altair’s hubris. The more I think of them, trapped on that dying planet with no idea what was going to happen, the more sympathy I have for the people of Gaia. The storms Shey spoke of, the food supply that must be dwindling after the failure of their crops… it reminds me of the harsh climate my own people suffered in. If no one helps them, I know they will follow the same path Titan did while the rest of the planets watched from afar: starvation, war, and an eventual, tragic end.
I couldn’t fight to save my own people, but I am prepared to fight for the Gaians. Never again will I be silent and helpless while government officials decide the fate of innocents.
But Shey is no average Gaian. She’s the president’s daughter, and a scientist specializing in Primus research as well. Are we really supposed to believe she’s as innocent as she claims to be, or that her reasons for being here are entirely benevolent? It all seems too convenient; she snuck onto our ship, laid out this plan for us, assured us her mother would agree, and now seems eager to take the lead. What does she stand to gain from this? If her mother sent her after all, what is the goal?
I watch as she discusses the logistics of scheduling an emergency council meeting with Scorpia, trying to figure her out. Perhaps she’s here to keep an eye on us, but she does seem determined not to follow her mother’s plan. Maybe Leonis really does want one final attempt for peace, without sacrificing her pride by asking for help herself… but knowing the woman’s policies, I find that unlikely. If only I had five minutes alone with Shey, I would find a way to get her to spill her true intentions. But with the way Scorpia fawns over her, I doubt she’s going to grant me that chance.
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem securing a meeting,” Scorpia says. “Off-worlders are rare, and you’ve got political clout. They’ll listen. But whether or not they’ll make a decision with any haste is a different matter.”
“I never did understand how seven people are supposed to agree on something,” Shey says, sighing.
“Well, personally, I don’t understand how a single person is supposed to be a figurehead for a whole planet,” Scorpia says. “But… yeah, they’re notoriously slow when it comes to big choices like this.”
“We have to force them to decide quickly,” I say. Both women look up at me like they’d half forgotten I was here, and Shey with no small amount of trepidation. She hides it well, but I can tell she’s scared of me. Good. I want her to be. “You told us more Gaians are dying every day. We’ll have to make sure they understand the stakes,” I clarify, since she looks like I’m suggesting we shoot the lot of them.
“Of course,” Shey says, and turns back to Scorpia. “I’ll need a crash course on Nibiran manners, if you don’t mind? I learned the basics in school, but it’s been many years, and of course, I’ve had no practical application for them.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Scorpia pauses. “Maybe, uh… somewhere quieter?”
Shey glances quickly at me, and at Drom, and then nods. The two of them exit, Scorpia mouthing sorry at me on the way out, leaving Drom and me alone. I glower at the table, still musing over what Shey’s real goal is. Drom sips her beer and shrugs.
“Scorpia and a Gaian. Who would’ve thought?”
I look up at her, torn from my thoughts by shock that she’s actually speaking to me.
“She certainly does have the worst taste,” I say. Perhaps our agreement in the argument has softened things between us… then again, exasperation at Scorpia’s decisions has always been something for our family to bond over. She’s always seemed utterly determined to make everything as difficult as possible, and her love life is no exception. I still haven’t decided if the Gaian president’s daughter is better or worse than her fling with the Red Baron’s pilot. At least Shey has never tried to kill us, I suppose. Yet. Perhaps that’s what she’s really here for—taking us out of the picture somehow…
“Yeah. Gaia has some weird STIs floating around,” Drom says, immediately derailing my train of thought once more.
“That’s… not what I was concerned about.”
“Well, it’s true.” Drom sips her drink again. “Don’t ask me how I know.”
“I really, truly was not planning on it.”
“Then again, I’m sure you had some equally weird shit going around Titan. What’s that saying they have there? ‘Fuck like the world is ending’?”
“Yeah, no, we’re not talking about this.” I push up from my chair. “I’m going to check on Lyre.”
Drom, still chuckling to herself, salutes with her fingers to her brow as I leave the room.
As much as I was looking for an excuse to get away from that particular conversation, I have been meaning to speak with Lyre. I still vividly remember how painful it was when the rest of the family voted against me to negotiate with Leonis. Though I disagreed with her about Nibiru, I know she had good intentions at heart. And I also know how lonely it is to be on the outside.
As usual, Lyre is hard at work in the noisy engine room, her hands moving to do a million tasks at once. She must notice me standing in the doorway, but she doesn’t acknowledge my presence. I am content to wait, looking around the engine room as I do. This is my first time down here since my return to the family, and I’m surprised how little it’s changed. Fortuna, at least, is a steadfast presence in our tumultuous lives. When Lyre finishes her latest job and strips off her gloves to wipe the sweat from her forehead, I step forward.
“I was thinking we could play some dice later,” I say, a shameless attempt at coaxing her out of this room. She gives a disdainful sniff without looking at me.
“I’m busy.”
“I think the engine can survive an hour or two without you.”
Her face creases in irritation.
“Well, it won’t survive a landing on Nibiru unless I finish this,” she snaps. “Water landings aren’t a simple process. And I wasn’t prepared to stay there long. I thought it would be…”
“A hit and run?” I try to keep my voice mild, but it only seems to make her angrier.
“Don’t you dare judge me. As if you kept your hands clean in Titan’s war.”
“That’s what I’m trying to make up for.” I fold my arms over my chest and lean back against the wall, studying her face. This isn’t like Lyre—not this conversation, not the argument to bomb Nibiru, not anything about the way she’s been acting since I returned to the family. When she was younger, we were always the two rational ones amid the craziness of our family. Scorpia’s bitterness I can understand, and forgive. But Lyre’s resentment is still a mystery to me, and I have no idea what to say to calm her down.
Even when my siblings were little terrors, Lyre was never the one who needed calming. She was always quiet, independent. And she’s never appreciated sugarcoating, so I decide to go with a straightforward approach.
“Why are you so angry with me?”
For a split second, guilt flashes across Lyre’s features.
“I’m not,” she says, and turns back to face the main fan, slipping her gloves back on. “As I told you, I have work to do.”
“Talk to me, Lyre.”
When she turns around, I’m surprised to see tears trekking clean paths through the dirt and grease smeared on her face. She wipes at them with one hand, looking frustrated, and takes a deep breath. She stands up straighter and collects herself before she speaks.
“I’m just so tired,” she says. “So tired of trying to be the logical one. Tired of trying to do the smart thing for the sake of everyone.”
“No one blames you for voting for what you believe in.”
“But I don’t believe in it. Not really.” She winces as she makes the admission, looking away. “You think I want to bomb Nibiru? You think the guilt wouldn’t have killed me if we did? But since no one else was going to be the voice of reason, it had to be me.” She wipes her eyes again. “Just like it had to be me to push Scorpia to take charge, even though I knew it would hurt you. And look where that almost led us.” She pauses, but it’s clear she wants to say more, so I wait. “Just like I let everyone believe you willingly went to Titan, even though I knew it was a lie.”
That catches me completely off guard. Familiar anger flares inside me—but it sputters out just as quickly, drowned by a wave of hurt. If this was anyone else, I would be furious. Perhaps murderously so. But this is Lyre, my baby sister who always seemed so small compared to all the rest.
“At least, I suspected as much,” she says softly. “And once I began to suspect, it was easy to figure out an explanation that made more sense than the one Momma told us.”
As much as I struggle for words, only one makes it out of my mouth:
“Why?”
“What good would it have done to tell everyone the truth?” Fresh tears spill over. She gives up the effort to wipe them off. “It’s not like knowing would have given us a way to get you back. And it would have torn the family apart, even more than the lie already did.”
I can see how that might make sense to her. But…“What about Scorpia?” Scorpia was nearly broken beyond repair by this. She spent years thinking that her worst fear had come true, and the person she trusted the most had abandoned her. She fell so hard into her drinking habit that I’m not sure she’s going to ever claw her way back out again.
“It gave her purpose, at least.” She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of one hand. “To take your place. She was still a mess, but at least she was trying. Knowing the truth would have made her give up completely. Either that, or she would’ve done something stupid enough to get herself kicked off the ship and left somewhere.”
