Chapter Thirty-Seven
Another ten-day Tavdorian week rolls by. Things between me and Kalen have been…strange, to say the least. That kiss messed up my entire equilibrium, all my plans. I’m confused and torn and powerless against my strong attraction to him. The many times we’ve talked this week, he teased me, made me laugh, looked at me the way few Tavdorians look at Humans. And I hate this power he has over me. Sometimes—sometimes I wish he was like other Tavdorian overlords. If he saw me as nothing but dirt, it would make it so much easier to hate him and steal his ship.
But I have to cling to the truth, not my feelings. Feelings are deceptive. Feelings are fleeting. Feelings have nothing to do with reality. But most importantly, feelings will get in the way of me helping the Renegade steal Kalen’s ship.
And if I had to choose—because, yes, I am totally being forced to choose—then I choose the Renegade over Kalen. Because stealing the Starfinder for the Renegade, who will use it to fight slavery, is better than letting Kalen keep it so he could stop slave trade just with his own company. I must look at the bigger picture, the one that affects all humanity, not just me. The trick is to keep my meeting with the Renegade under cover. No more late nights. No more laughing with Cada at Kalen’s parties. No more slipping up.
I already told Tarik I would skip out on tonight’s meeting, and he understood. I have nothing to offer, and Kalen is watching me closely. Too closely. Perhaps next week I can go again, but for now…for now I need to keep a low profile. For all Kalen has done for me, the least I can do is appear to respect him.
Zimri comes for a visit that evening for a family/business dinner. I try to get out of serving them to avoid Zimri like I usually do during his dreaded visits. I even consider begging. But before Tarik left for the meeting, he told me to make a presence in the dining hall as much as possible, because valuable news about the Starfinder might be dropped in conversation.
I enter the dining room with a bottle of wine and wait along the wall with the other slaves. I try not to look at Zimri, because one look and I remember all the horrible things he’s done—to Rika, to me—and it makes me want to throw up. Thankfully, he hardly notices me.
But Kalen does. He always seems to know the moment I enter the room, almost like he’s waiting for me. He looks at me, and everything slows down in an instant. I remember the kiss we shared. The longing in his eyes. How much I wanted him.
And how much more I want him now.
But the way he’s looking at me now is different than usual. Instead of admiration, I see only torment. He holds my gaze, gives a brief shake of his head, like he really doesn’t want me to be here right now. When I don’t obey, he mouths the word leave. And I want to. Mother of the two moons, I desperately want out of this room, but just when I take a step to leave, Zimri speaks.
“What do you think, Kalen?” Zimri stares at Kalen from across the table, tapping his chin with his index finger.
“I think it’s a horrible idea,” Kalen says. “The worst you’ve come up with, yet.” I pause and glance at him, expecting to find mockery, but find only regret and something else—a tinge of hatred—glimmering in his eyes.
Zimri rolls his eyes, but Sarka speaks before he can get a word out. “I’m with Kalen. Exterminating Humans is barbaric.”
My heartbeat spikes. Exterminate Humans? What does that even mean? My stomach twists and writhes at the realization of why Kalen didn’t want me here.
“Sarka’s right, Father,” Kalen says through gritted teeth. “We can’t kill slaves because of some sickness.”
“It’s not just some sickness, Kalen.” Zimri releases a humorless laugh, rolls up his sleeves, leans back in his chair. “It’s a viral disease that’s killed 60 percent of the fresh imports from Earth. It’s spread to hundreds of new units from Cupa and Onmar, as well. Even a few of our workers have been infected by the plague.”
“So you’re going to burn them for being sick?” Kalen’s voice is terse as he tosses his napkin on the table. “You think that’s going to fix anything?”
My rage rises with Kalen’s voice.
“We can either pay a high price for a cure, or exterminate them cheaply to prevent further contamination.”
Timeos frowns. “Many cultures practice the punishment of burning disobedient slaves, Kalen.”
“You, too, Father?” Kalen barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “Mother believed in equality, and you want to kill them? These slaves aren’t sick by their own choice. We can’t exterminate them. It would be inhumane.”
“Inhumane?” Zimri picks up his glass and swishes his wine around. “They’re slaves, Kalen. It’s not worth the amount a physician would charge to treat them. We’d lose more money than we’d gain in the long run.” He takes a drink.
“Is that how you feel about Adeline?” Kalen asks.
Zimri nearly chokes on his wine. “Leave her out of this.”
“Won’t you have lost so much anyway, since you’ve already imported them?” Sarka asks.
“No,” Timeos says. “We imported other goods on those same shipments, enough to make up for the lost slaves.”
“Isn’t there another way?” Kalen’s voice is tight. “Quarantine them until they get well again.”
“And watch them die slowly? Honestly, Kalen, that would be a worse fate than a quick death by torch.” Zimri rolls his eyes, as though Kalen’s the inhumane one here. “If it would make you feel better, we could brew them tea with a slip of poison that will put them into a deep sleep before death claims them.”
“You sick bastard.”
“It would be painless.” Zimri looks at his fingers, white around his wineglass. “You were always sensitive, like Mother, but in this business, you have to consider what’s best for the company.”
“And you think this is best for the company?”
“When it comes to business, yes, this is the right decision,” Timeos says.
Sarka makes a disgusted sound in her throat and shoves her chair out. “I can’t—I can’t listen to this.” She mumbles something crude under her breath and storms out of the room, her dinner hardly touched.
Timeos watches her go, then heaves out a sigh and looks at Kalen. “Sorry, Kalen. You make a good argument. But the disease will only spread, and without a cure, we cannot contain it on our own. We must dispose of the infected before the disease spreads through the whole Rydell Trading Port, and then through the city.”
I stiffen, the blood draining from my face. My head begins to pound with hatred toward Zimri, toward everything their company stands for. My heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m about to black out when I catch Kalen’s wary gaze. He gives a brief shake of his head. Lifts one finger off the table. He’s trying to tell me not to speak, that he has it all under control. But he couldn’t be more wrong. This is clearly an uphill battle that he will never win.
“We are not going to kill them,” Kalen says.
My heart pounds faster.
“There’s no other option,” Zimri says.
My body goes hot.
Then. Ice. Cold.
“You can’t let him do this,” Kalen says to Timeos. “At least try to find a cure. Or—or send them back to their home planet.”
“We’re not making an unscheduled visit to their planet for a disease, Kalen.” Timeos sighs, drags his hand down the side of his face and around the back of his neck. “When our animals are plagued with life-threatening, contagious diseases, we kill them. This situation is no different.”
I cover my mouth. I can’t breathe. Can’t comprehend exactly what’s happening, because the more they talk, the hotter my blood boils, and somewhere amidst the firestorm building inside me I hear Zimri say, “I would like permission to carry out the order tonight and end their misery. We could dispose of the slaves before the disease spreads any further.”
And. I. Snap.
“You coward.” I glare at Zimri through hot, angry tears, and I realize just how funny it would be if he choked on his food right now. If, like, I don’t know, he just stopped breathing and fell down dead. But that’s not happening.
What’s happening is Zimri is shoving his chair out. He’s walking toward me. He’s saying, “Kalen, you need to put your vartacian whore in a cage.”
Every last drop of fear evaporates, and I stride to the center of the room straight toward him. I want to punch him. I want shake him until he wakes up.
“You’re going to kill Humans because you’re afraid of losing business?” I ask through gritted teeth, stopping right in front of him. “You’re afraid of getting sick? You’re already sick.” I glance at him from head to toe, not caring about the dangerous gleam in his eye. “Eaten with a cancer of greed. That’s all you want—pecarrii. And you don’t give a fuck who you walk on, who you murder in order get more money, when you already have more pecs than you know what to do with. Did you even consider who’s life you’re taking? Who’s brother or who’s mother you’re killing?” Something shifts in his eyes. “I suppose not. You’re just a heartless, narrow-minded, chauvinistic bastard.”
He lifts his hand to strike me, and I flinch.
Kalen shoves his chair out. “Don’t lay a finger on her!”
I open my eyes to see Zimri hesitate, then I spin around.
And run out of the room.