Chapter Twenty-One
Leda almost didn’t recognize Stein. He looked much the same as he had before—red hair cut close to his scalp, sour twist to his lips, dark clothing—but this betrayal morphed him into someone else. A villain who didn’t think of himself as the bad guy. On the surface, he appeared cold and calm, like a frozen river.
Stein smiled as he came closer, but there was something in the smile Leda couldn’t decipher. Something...almost soft. A hint of warmth? Apology? She turned away, the restraint on her neck tightening a fraction. She crushed her hands into fists on the armrests. If she got her hands on the traitor, she’d choke the very last breath from his lungs, and she’d enjoy every second.
How could you betray your entire planet, Stein?
“I see you’re acquainted with my friend.” Tuva unclipped the case and lifted the lid. From this angle, Leda couldn’t see what was inside, but she didn’t need to be a genius to guess. “I must admit, it was quite a shock to see him this way, but then, I’ve always known her as Sofia.”
Under any other circumstances, Leda would have asked what Tuva meant, but fear drove away the last of Leda’s curious nature. She remained stiff in the chair, the press of metal on her neck and wrists a cold threat.
“No more defiance?” Tuva pouted and lifted something from the case. A glint of silver flashed, menacing. “You won’t stay silent for long.”
Stein took another step forward. “I thought you said you wanted the bounty.”
“Oh, I do.” Tuva pressed the tip of a small, sharp instrument to her index finger. A small drop of silver blood fell down the scalpel, turning to glittery ash before it reached the handle, sparkling down to the floor around Tuva’s boots. “But first I want some answers, and I never can trust the things people say when they’re not under duress.”
Stein grabbed Tuva’s wrist. “You promised no one would get hurt,” he said, almost too low for Leda to hear.
Tuva jerked away, fire in her eyes. “I lied. Does this girl mean so much to you that you’d give up your beliefs to protect her?”
For a long moment, Stein held Tuva’s hard glare in silent defiance. Then he relaxed his stance, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “She means nothing to me. Do whatever you want, but remember, she needs to be in one piece in order to collect the full reward.” Stein spun on his boots and left the room, the door swishing shut after him.
“Hamit,” Tuva said, “you may go. Stay just outside the door, in case I need you.”
The guard followed the path Stein had taken, and then Leda was alone with Tuva. Sweat purled on Leda’s brow as Tuva laid out the tools, one at a time, as if putting on a show, and fear rippled in Leda’s stomach with each glint of dim overhead lights on sharp instruments. Tuva paused, holding one up, the three sharp, twisted prongs like a deformed, arthritic hand on a pole as long as her forearm.
“You know, I’m actually one of the good guys, Leda.” She smiled, then set the claw down and lifted a short, curved blade with a hook on the end from the case.
Leda snorted. “The only people who say that are the ones who know deep down, they’re inherently evil.”
“Inherently evil,” Tuva repeated, keeping her back to Leda. “What a delightful phrase.”
“I’ve got plenty more,” Leda spat.
“I’m sure you have. Ah, this one’s my personal favorite,” Tuva purred, turning to face Leda. “You see the handle? Carved by an ancient method, known only to the craftsmen who continue creating these blades inside caves on a hot, dry planet they were forced to flee to after the Elders took over on Aurelis.” She held the blade under her nose. “You can almost smell the sweat and tears that went into creating such a beautiful dagger.”
That settled it: Tuva was not right in the head. At all. Leda shivered, her muscles taut in the chair.
When Leda didn’t respond, Tuva scowled. “See, this is the problem we have with Aurelite culture. The utter lack of respect for anything but what you believe in. There’s more than one race on Aurelis, you know!”
“No,” Leda said, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
Tuva filled her lungs twice, so deep that her chest rose and fell visibly. “Right. The whole born-on-Earth thing. I wonder how that’ll affect the weapon.”
The echo of heels clacked on the floor as Tuva sauntered toward Leda, trapped in the chair. Tuva stroked the blade’s sharp tip down the side of Leda’s jaw to her neck. Her breath hitched. Her pulse throbbed against the point, and Tuva made a satisfied noise.
Then she sighed, pulling the blade away from Leda’s throat. “I don’t enjoy this, you know.”
Leda hissed out a relieved breath. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”
Tuva made a wide circle around Leda’s chair, dragging the blade along the surfaces beneath Leda’s arms and legs. She stopped behind Leda, and a bolt of cold fear dropped down her spine. Tuva laughed, as if she could sense what Leda felt. “See, the thing about torture is letting the prisoner think you’ll do anything to get what you want.”
“Isn’t that kind of counter-productive? Giving away the tricks of the trade?”
Tuva came around to the front of the chair, facing Leda. “Not at all. And the reason is this: I’m not afraid to keep you locked away in some deep, dark place where no one will ever find you. Would you like to know why?”
Leda’s teeth clenched, an involuntary reaction—a silent warning from her brain. Don’t make the psycho angry.
Tuva must not have expected an answer. She tapped the blade to each of her fingertips as she continued. “It’s simple, really. Whoever controls the weapon, controls Aurelis. As fate would have it, I’ve got you right where I want you.” She leaned over Leda, the scent of something sweet mingling with sweat filled her nostrils, a dizzying combination. Tuva whispered, “And just between you and me? You’re not leaving this room in one piece.”
For a moment, Leda forgot to breathe. Then, as the words sank into her head, her lungs seized and sputtered. She shut her eyes, tears squeezing from the corners. A small part of her screamed, Don’t give up hope. But hope was a long way from here.
Pain slammed through Leda’s cheek, and a sharp crack echoed in the room. She snapped her eyes open to see Tuva standing over her, lips curled, nostrils flared, hand raised again.
“Stay with me, Earth girl,” Tuva said. “’Cause this is going to take all night.”
The first punch landed in her gut, just below the ribs. The second came a little higher and brought a snap of pain that radiated through her rib cage and up her spine like a bomb blast. She gasped, her body tense against the restraints, wanting to protect itself but unable to.
Tuva’s lips curved, her eyes brightened. “You react well to pain. High tolerance?”
Unwilling to give the evil witch any ammunition, Leda bit her lip so she wouldn’t spit in Tuva’s face.
Tuva leaped onto the chair lightning fast, her hands grabbing Leda’s upper arms with a biting grip. Her forehead collided with Leda’s nose. Starbursts flashed across her vision and blood spurted from her nostrils. Tears stung her eyes. Her face throbbed, but she held back her cry of pain, held her breath.
“Not a big talker now, huh.” Tuva flew away from the chair and landed on the floor without losing her balance in the tall heels. She circled Leda once more, this time stopping at the table.
Leda’s pulse kicked up but she forced herself not to react. Tuva wants to know she’s getting to you. Don’t let her see you’re in pain.
A dark shadow to the left. Tuva had reappeared, holding the claw tool. “I thought I’d bring this baby out early. Give you a little taste of real pain.” At Leda’s hitched breath, Tuva chuckled, the sound menacing. “I bet you’re wondering what it does.”
Leda’s mind filled in the vague blank, horrifying visions flashing before her. At the angle Tuva held the device, it looked as though it would pierce both Leda’s eyes and the final claw was aimed at one of her nostrils. Like some alien version of the tool the ancient Egyptians used to remove the brains from a body before mummification.
“It’s ingenious, really.” Tuva tapped a button on the side of the pole, so tiny Leda almost hadn’t seen it.
The three claws widened as Tuva moved the device above Leda’s head. She couldn’t look up to see with her neck secured in place, but Leda heard a flick, then a buzz and whir. Sharp electric tingles danced over her scalp.
“This little thing, called a reader, tells me what you fear most of all. As an added bonus, it hurts like hell. Makes the torture process that much easier.”
Leda felt the crackles dial up another notch, the pain shooting down her spine, straight to her toes. She focused on that, on the feeling she hadn’t had since childhood, rather than the images of Dad in a hospital bed, wasting away. Or Mom’s sneering face before Leda activated Equinox’s weapons.
It seemed like she lost consciousness at one point, but Tuva revived her with a fist to the jaw. By the time the blackness ate away every thought in her mind, Leda was delirious.
She wasn’t sure when Tuva ended the torture. All Leda knew was a pounding in her skull and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She felt her body lifting up. Floating.
The next time she woke, she was face-down on the hard floor of the cell, her body damp from a puddle of silvery, ashen vomit beneath her. The moment she lifted her head, a pair of boots filled her vision, catching the gleam from lights above.
“I’m sorry,” a voice said softly, but the sound pierced her brain, a thousand needles. “I didn’t know she would…”
But Leda heard no more, covering her ears with her hands, desperate for a moment of respite from the pain.
I have to escape. Somehow.
It took Oline two hours to find the trail. She said the other ship must have been using a new technology to try and hide the energy signature left behind when strathium passed through the drive. She found them eventually, and the trail wasn’t so cold that they couldn’t follow, but each time they lost the energy signature they were searching for, she’d have to recalibrate the systems again.
Roar typed the first set of coordinates in and took them out, performing several leaps in the hopes of reaching them faster. When the sensors lost the trail, the ship dropped from strath-space. While Oline traced the surrounding space for the energy signature, Roar ran a check of Equinox’s database for any mention of another Avenger Class.
He found one file and spent the last hour digging through it. The file said there were plans drawn up for a second ship, but the Council of Elders vetoed the plans until after the war ended. All materials were necessary to build the Týr Class battleships Aurelis needed to defend the planet.
Arne was sitting beside him, and his expression looked as pained as Roar felt. Arne opened his mouth to speak but—
Nils burst into the security station, followed by Rika, both talking at once. The only words Roar heard were “tracker” and “Woede.” A fine sheen of sweat broke out all over, and Roar swiped his brow as he stood.
“One at a time.” Roar looked to Nils first.
Nils held out a canister with the thing they’d removed from Leda inside. Black tentacles swished in the liquid. “It’s a Woede tracker. They start off small, like the size of a thumb, and grow exponentially over time. They must have put it in her at some point. Like, the last time she had surgery.”
Rika nodded. “Judging by the size of the creature, and the opportunities available to insert the tracker, I’d say it’s been in her for six years.”
“Six years?” Arne pushed his fists against the wall, leaning in close. “They knew where she was. All this time.”
Roar was just as confused. “Why didn’t they do anything?”
Nils thought for a moment. “They probably put the tracker in her to make sure she stayed put. The minute you guys showed up, they were trying to stop you from leaving Earth.”
Arne spun and snatched the canister from Nils. “Is it still tracking?”
Good question. Roar looked to Nils, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know. Honest.” Nervous tension stretched through the room. “But,” Nils said, “there’s a pretty good chance someone will come after it.” He held out a hand for the canister, and Arne gave it back. Nils tapped the glass neat the creature’s head, like an Earth octopus. “See this little mark here?”
Roar leaned closer for a better look. Along the creature’s skull, a little above its crown, a pinpoint-sized dot flashed from black to white. He bit back a string of curses. “Get it off the ship.”
Arne yanked the canister away from Nils and ran from the room, Roar and the others close on his heels. When Roar realized where Arne was headed, he burst ahead to prepare the airlock for ejection. He hit the panel and it opened, revealing two switches. When Arne was close, Roar threw the first switch. The airlock proximity alarm beeped as Arne reached Roar’s side, and Roar threw the waste port open. Arne shoved the canister in. Roar twisted the knob and hit the second switch.
The canister shot out into space and kept going, with nothing to stop it and nothing to slow it down. Roar let out a long, slow breath, his muscles relaxing a fraction.
Nils pressed his face to the airlock window. “Is that it?”
“That’s it,” Arne said.
“It seems too easy.” Nils glanced at Roar.
It does. Roar bit his tongue. He wasn’t going to count his blessings just yet. They had to stay on high alert until he felt certain the Woede weren’t coming after them.
He leaned on the panel, resting his chin in his hands. “How the hell did a Woede tracker get inside her in the first place?”
Rika shook her head. “Hard to say. What’s most important is that we got it out of her. And that they don’t have a way to track us now, either.”
Roar stood so fast he almost knocked Arne out of the chair beside him. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” Arne stared at him in confusion.
“If we can’t trace the ship, I can trace Leda.”
Oline snapped her fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
A smirk lifted the edge of his mouth. “For once, let me bask in the sensation of coming up with the idea.”
“Oh, all right.” She spun and let her fingers dance over the panel, but Roar caught her grin.
Arne stood, stretching out his bulky frame. “If I’m not needed, I thought I’d go prepare something for my mother and Nils.”
Oline nodded but didn’t look away from the screen. “Good idea.”
“And I’ll bring something to the rest of you when I’m finished.”
“Thanks,” Roar said.
When Arne was gone, Roar paced the bridge, wondering the best way to go about tracing Leda using his mind. He tried relaxing and focusing his thoughts before with little luck. When he wasn’t thinking about the weapon, just walking around, he found her straight away. But since he couldn’t go walking out in space the same way he had on the island, he decided to suit up and relax in zero gravity, and wait for the pull.
He told Oline his idea and she agreed.
“On one condition.” She spun away from the screen and faced him. “You keep your comm on at all times so I can track you if any more surprises come our way.”
Roar almost laughed. “Deal.” Oline turned back to the panel, and Roar leaned over her shoulder to see how she was coming along. Letters and numbers blurred on the screen. “You’ll be fine here on your own until Arne returns?”
“Yep.” She didn’t stop typing.
First Roar made a detour to the brig to check on Petrus, but he wasn’t there. Roar knew where he’d be, though, and a few minutes later he stepped onto the dark observation deck on the top level. Petrus had shut the lights off and covered the clear dome above, preferring instead to stare up at recorded projections of the Aurelis night sky, above the city they were cloistered in with the Elders.
Spotting Petrus’s still form in the second-to-last row of seats on the far side of the room, Roar hurried over and took the chair beside him. Bright violet lights danced in the sky and twinkling stars peeked through thin wisps of cloud. He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, and stared at the scene, his chest warming at the familiar sight.
“Just like home, hmm?” Roar tilted his head to his friend.
Petrus nodded and let out a contented sigh. After today, it was a good sound to hear.
He told Petrus of his plan, and Petrus agreed that it might be easier than the constant stop-start road they were stuck on. For a short while, Roar stayed with Petrus on the observation deck, memories of nights like this bringing him a few moments of peace and helping clear his mind for the task ahead. When he was ready, he left the deck and went in search of a suit, then made his way to the nearest airlock.
He couldn’t face the shuttle bay he and Leda had gone out of the day before he screwed everything up between them, and any other shuttle bay would only remind him of that day. Besides, an airlock was easier for one man to control. Less systems interrupted, and Oline was using a lot of power to run her scan.
Roar pulled on his helmet and stepped into the airlock.