by Gaja J. Kos
The reverberating sting of a firm slap dragged me from the floaty place between sleep and wakefulness.
“The fuck,” I croaked, but my words sounded as weak as my body felt.
A sickening wave of pressure rolled through me.
“Dose her again,” a voice commanded.
Not a voice. Gray’s voice.
Whatever was happening, my baby sister was clearly overseeing the entire damn thing.
“Please don’t,” I said before I could bite my tongue.
No weakness, Cairo. No fucking weakness.
My plea went unanswered, anyway. A drug-induced haze swept over my mind, plummeting me into oblivion. But even as I floated in this space where nothing existed, nudges from the real world came through. I held onto those small transmissions, clutched them like the damn lifeline they were.
I didn’t truly fear death. I didn’t want it, but I didn’t fear it. That had become impossible when she became a shadow I could never shake, only prolong our companionship before she consumed me.
But I was fucking terrified of not knowing what was going on with my body.
Something prickled against my spine, followed by a cool sensation coursing through my veins.
Then pressure around my wrists.
Then…
* * *
“Get up.”
I groaned and turned on the bed, only to find my movements restricted. Reality came rushing back, a string of images and emotions so volatile my stomach churned.
Show no weakness.
I pushed down the bile and cracked open my eyes.
The bright glare of the room assaulted my vision, but in the painful, all-encompassing whiteness, I made out the shape of a man. A SCAR Force guard.
No sign of my sister, though.
“Get up,” he barked again. “Or do you want me to force you?”
I’d like to see him try, though with how spent my body felt, I suspected the outcome wouldn’t be quite what I’d want. So I gingerly lifted myself into a sitting position, noting the magnetic binds restricting my movement loosened. But only for a fraction.
“I need to use the toilet,” I said. Then, when the man’s stoic face showed no indication of granting me my wish, added, “Unless you want me to piss all over the floor.”
He grunted, but nudged his clean-shaven chin towards the right-hand wall. He tapped something on his cuff—one that looked like a halved vambrace of the bulkier variety—and a plain, stripped-down toilet rolled out from one of the panels. Lovely. He wanted to watch me pee.
Still, I trudged over and did my business. I hadn’t been joking about my bladder, and if the man had thought otherwise, the damn minutes I’d spent sitting on the toilet certainly proved him wrong. I finished up, then met his gaze, hands raised before my torso.
He grunted again, but dutifully tapped his cuff. The toilet retracted, and a small sink emerged from another panel higher up. I washed my hands and splashed some water onto my face before approaching him like a good little prisoner.
I hated every moment of it.
But since I figured I was in a SCAR Force holding cell, I also knew escape was impossible. Those tended to happen once inmates were transferred to the prison. The guards there were easier to bribe instead of the by-the-book fanatics making up the core of SCAR Force. Especially those who never got their license to fly and were stuck on ground duty.
Sometimes, I believed seeding misery in others and exerting their authority in every possible manner was the only joy they got in life. So they milked it real good.
“You will follow me no more than a meter behind,” he droned, voice as bland and unremarkable as was his face. “You will keep your hands to yourself, unless you want me to activate the tasers. If I have to drag you, I will.”
“Sure thing.”
He cut me a look that should have probably left me shaking, but I was far too pissed off to react in any normal way. Still, I forced myself to shut it. Antagonizing the guard would only delay whatever it was they had in store for me.
A voice inside me warned that delaying would be the best course of action.
A voice that sounded a lot more like the rational Cairo I knew.
But whether it was the residual drugs in my system or a short-circuit in my brain that couldn’t quite accept this was now my reality, that particular Cairo had no power over the seething mess I’d become.
The guard marched me out of the cell and down the corridor lined with a series of utterly identical doors save for the codes marking which inmate was held where. I didn’t bother trying anything and, like the man had said, kept my hands to myself. We emerged through a triple set of coded doors, then continued our walk towards the elevators.
Right before we reached them, however, the guard veered to the side and led me around the corner towards an escalator. I snorted. They sure were paranoid, not letting inmates anywhere near something as potentially useful as an elevator.
He positioned himself sideways so he could keep an eye on me as we ascended, which, I had to admit, was kind of hilarious. We looked like two people moving between floors in a mall.
A slightly hysterical laugh tickled the back of my throat.
SCAR Force should really teach their officials about intimidation techniques.
I blew out a breath through my nose, quieted the part of my brain that believed comments like that were of use, and glanced around the building. Rational Cairo might be indisposed, but it didn’t mean I had to betray her entirely. Unfortunately, there was nothing to indicate where we were going.
Not even as we ascended another level.
Then another.
Just bare walls and a series of top-notch escalators nobody was using.
When we reached what I suspected was our nondescript destination, the guard gave me another “no bullshit” look. He held it for a moment longer to let it truly sink in, then spun on his heels and walked across the landing towards another coded set of triple doors. These, I noted, had even tighter security than the ones below.
Biometrics, a keypad, even a standard old-school key the guard produced from a tiny compartment in his right cuff.
Though the lack of any visible markers persisted, we had to be crossing into the part of the building where the highest-ranking SCAR Force officials on Taran had their offices. Why he was marching me there, however, I didn’t want to think about.
It definitely wasn’t the way to the prison where scum like me belonged.
But it was a destination for another kind of offender…
Wary but unwilling to get zapped, I followed, then paused when he did—right in front of a door where two SCAR Force guards, both armed to the teeth, stood on each side. My guard extended his cuff, and the burly dude on the left scanned something I couldn’t see from my vantage point.
“They’re waiting for you.” He stepped aside.
As did his buddy right after he keyed open the door.
With no other choice, I marched into the unknown. My feet hesitated on the threshold when I saw the raised platform up ahead, but a warning tug let me know I was pushing my meter-behind limit. I quickly closed the distance, never taking my eyes off the five figures holding court on the platform, all decorated with so many medals it was a wonder they didn’t keel over in their seats.
Well, fuck.
The faces staring back at me were about as close as a mortal could come to meeting the ruling body of SCAR Force. First-level delegates who reported straight to the top-of-the-top. In essence, they were the leaders of not only our little four-planet system and its three moons, but the entire Vedrina trinary system.
This time, as my steps faltered, the guard reached back and yanked me forward to the designated spot in front of the platform.
Sweat coated my temples and the palms of my hands, my heartbeat ratcheting up, pounding so loudly I could hear it without any effort at all in the absolute silence the room was submerged in.
There was only one reason for this format
ion. For the use of this room.
And it wasn’t a trial.
Shit.
I breathed through the nausea.
Then again, what the fuck did I expect?
SCAR Force always did hide one aspect of the organization pretty fucking well from the public. And I had a gut feeling I was about to become the key player in that secret.
The damn star of a straight-up execution.
Chapter Nine
“Cairo MacKennon,” General Loretta Navatine said from her perch at the very center. Her melodic voice was at odds with the stoic, cold way she carried herself. I was inclined to believe the latter over the former. “You have been caught transporting stolen merchandise and suspected of seventy-three theft-related offenses.”
I swallowed, and the sound carried through the silence. Seventy-three was quite a spot-on estimate for the nearly five years I’d been with Carrow and Donovan. I’d always thought we’d done a good job flying under the radar. After all, SCAR Force had never come knocking.
But what if—
What if they’d only been biding their time.
Of all our heists, our latest was the kind of grand one to invite some hefty jail time.
But if all they were interested in was my thieving…
I forced some moisture into my mouth and croaked, “I have my rights. I want a trial in front of a jury. By the interplanetary and interstellar laws of the Pioneer Empire, you must assign every civilian a representative—”
The woman smirked. She actually smirked.
“I don’t think so, Cadet MacKennon.”
My stomach dropped.
“You might have deserted before graduation, but you have pledged your life to SCAR Force upon entering the Academy. Without an official discharge, you owe us that life.”
Fuck.
It could be that the drugs had circled out of my system or that Navatine’s words alone had overpowered them like a damn blocker, but the magnitude of my predicament slammed into me full force.
You owe us that life.
Just how much did Navatine know?
The smooth snick of the door opening behind me cut through the tension. Footsteps approached, but I was rooted to the ground, pinned by the general’s steely gaze regarding me like I was nothing but low-life deserter scum.
Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more of her scrutiny, she flicked her gaze to the new arrival. “Commander MacKennon.”
My breath hitched. Commander.
My sister was a commander.
There had been nothing to distinguish her rank on the simple wavesuit patrol uniform she’d had on when she’d hunted me down. But now that I finally turned, observed Gray saunter up to the platform and stand in line with me, I couldn’t stop staring at the truth.
Gray MacKennon became a SCAR Force commander in the six years since I’d last seen her. Just months before I’d deserted. Before everything had changed.
The little girl who’d still been in school was gone, and in her stead stood a woman with a straight spine and an air of authority around her that was foreign, yet somehow familiar all at once. I nearly doubled over as she refused to as much as look at me. As if we weren’t of the same blood.
Deep down, though, I knew I deserved this.
I left her without an explanation. Left my whole family behind.
Even if it was to protect them.
“You have requested to attend this meeting, Commander MacKennon,” General Navatine went on. The touch of poison in her tone matched the foreboding chill that swept through the room. “Speak.”
Gray dipped her chin in acknowledgment—and gratitude.
My stomach churned.
“I thank you for the opportunity to bring this matter before you.” If my sister was at all perturbed to be addressing the big guns, she didn’t show it. “I believe Cairo MacKennon might yet be of use to SCAR Force.”
General Carrero frowned in my direction before returning his attention to Gray. “How so?”
Had the situation been different, I would have probably laughed at the disbelief coloring his voice. The even deeper wrinkles lining his face. As it was, it was all I could do to follow the conversation with my pulse thrashing in my ears.
“From what our team discovered when stripping her ship and from my own observations the previous day, her stealth skillset is rivaled only by mine.” Gray glanced towards me, but the look was cold, calculative. An official measuring up an asset and nothing more. I ignored how something in me shattered. “SCAR Force could use that kind of ability. It’s why I instructed the medical team to insert more than just the standard inmate chipping.”
“Did you now, Commander?” the man on the left asked, one brow arched high. General Braxton, my memory supplied. The man preferred shadows to the spotlight. It was where he was at his most efficient. Lethal, too, as rumor had it. “I do not remember that being part of the executive order.”
Gray didn’t as much as blink. “It wasn’t. But Cairo MacKennon was still my prisoner at that point, which granted me authority over her. I made the call I believed was best in the situation.”
He waved a slightly annoyed hand. “Tell us of the modifications.”
With a few commands tapped into her standard-issue vambrace, Gray brought up a hologram of my body. I flinched at the highlighted sections down the length of my spine. Then the collar that seemed to run snug around my throat. My fingers twitched, but the magcuffs wouldn’t allow me to touch my neck. Not that there’d be anything to feel with the tech inside me.
I curled my fingers until my nails dug into my palms.
Fuck.
I looked…
Bile hit the back of my throat.
I looked like a fucking cyborg.
“The medical team and I chose Cairo MacKennon as the first candidate for the freshly approved implants that grant SCAR Force remote control of a subject.” The highlighted area down my spine blinked at Gray’s words. “The vertebrae have been fitted with the latest technology to override the neurosystem. If the subject disobeys an order, a simple command can abort their actions. The microinjections can release a powerful sedative or simply block the nervous system from transmitting signals, effectively cutting off the unwanted motion. The tech also allows basic motor nudges.”
Yeah, I was definitely going to be sick.
“As a worst-case scenario,” Gray went on, “MacKennon has been equipped with a nano-collar for immediate execution.”
My stomach churned, and I vomited all over the floor.
Gray retreated a few unnecessary steps away from me, her body subtly poised for attack. A snort escaped me despite my heaves. As if…
With the magnetic binds still commanding my body, I couldn’t move anywhere. I couldn’t even drop down to all fours.
“Send a cleanup crew in,” General Navatine ordered, then, ignoring me entirely, turned to Gray. “All this is fascinating and certainly a good experiment for the science division, but what are you proposing, Commander?”
I dry heaved again, but nothing more came up.
Out of the corner of my watery vision, I saw Gray lift her chin, and I knew—I knew what would come out of her mouth.
A sentence worse than execution.
“I propose you forcefully enlist Cairo MacKennon into SCAR Force. And harness her abilities.”
Chapter Ten
My guard yanked me down the corridor, now flanked by two others.
The officials had accepted Gray’s proposal. Satisfied, she’d strode out of the chamber without a backwards glance.
She hadn’t done this to save me.
I knew as much—had seen it in the way she’d looked at me. All Gray had done was have SCAR Force’s best interests at heart.
And that included handing them a stealth pilot on a nanowire-lined platter.
My legs were too weak to hold me, and I didn’t fight the guards as they dragged me forward on invisible chains. Not that struggling would do me any good. I’d hea
rd about the research now stuffed along my spine. Strung around my neck.
SCAR Force, true to its foul self, had no regard for lives. I should have known the reason why I deserted would come and bite me in the ass. Though this—this went beyond even my most wretched expectations.
I swore mentally, then worked some saliva into my mouth. My stomach was still unsettled, but at least the pill they forced down my throat before we began our slow advance through the massive building kept me from throwing up again.
A fucking puppet.
There was no need for them to kill me if I misbehaved. Dropping me like a fucking turd would serve their purpose just fine.
The guard on the left keyed open a room. I stumbled over the threshold and fell flat down as the magnetic bonds released me. I scurried to my feet, but before I could as much as catch my balance, the official who had been waiting inside pinned me with a dangerously amused gaze.
“I have the authority to activate the sedative if you act out.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Now strip down and put on your suit.”
I glanced towards the sterile white table the woman had gestured to. A standard-issue SCAR Force suit rested there, folded in a neat pile, along with boots and a pair of vambraces—which I had no doubt were modified to exclude anything that might be deemed a danger. No helmet though. Probably because it would give too much away. Depending on a person’s station, their task, the helmets and their functions varied. Though its absence could signify something else, too.
“Why the outfit?” I asked, somehow finding my voice.
And my anger.
The woman just stared at me pointedly, fingers hovering over her left-hand wrist. Shit, she would zap me given the chance. Enjoy it, too.
Not wanting to end up unconscious, I padded over to the table and started stripping. The guards didn’t bother to give me any privacy, and neither did the woman. Fine with me. I wasn’t shy about my body, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of making me uncomfortable.
The suit, reminiscent of the one I wore before my SCAR Force career went to shit, fit me like second skin. They’d improved the materials, the cut, making it almost like something out of a dream—if one could forget who’d designed it.
