by Amie Kaufman
Malikova, E: Oh gosh, this is such a big day for me. I’d like to thank everyone who’s ever believed in me, because it’s people like you who—
Al Nakat, S: That’s enough.
Chua, S: I recognize Miss Asha Grant from her file photo and Mr. Rhys Lindstrom from his haircut. I’m not quite sure of the identity of the young lady with you, however.
Grant, A: This is Katya Kowalska. You can say hello, Mouse.
Kowalska, K: Nice to meet you, Your Honors.
Chua, S: I…Hello, young lady. I’m…I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.
Lindstrom, R: Her mom’s waiting outside with the others. Captain McCall, Chief Grant, Sergeant Oshiro, Chief Garver. Everyone.
Chua, S: Everyone?
Lindstrom, R: Everyone. People from Hypatia, Heimdall, Kerenza IV. Thousands of them, just outside those doors.
Mason, E: But we wanted Katya to be here. So she could see what justice looks like.
Frobisher, L: …Ezra?
Hebi, K: Leanne, don’t say a word, don’t—
Frobisher, L: Ezra, you have to know I never…
Mason, E: Never meant to murder thousands of innocent people? Never meant to lie about it afterward for the sake of profit? Never meant to kill Dad? To try and kill me?
Frobisher, L: Ezra, I didn’t know…I’d never hurt you.
Frobisher, L: Ezra, I’m your mother.
Mason, E: No. You’re not. Not anymore. These people standing with me, the people standing outside this court, the people who fought and bled beside me, who came all this way to see justice done to you today…they’re my family now.
Frobisher, L: Ezra, please, you—
Jun, H: Mr. Hebi, if Dr. Frobisher were my client, I would be strongly advising her to be quiet right now.
Al Nakat, S: Look, the hell with it. Since you’re here, I have questions.
Hebi, K: Your Honor, I obje—
Al Nakat, S: Noted. Overruled. Sit the hell down and listen.
Grant, K: We’re listening, Your Honor.
Al Nakat, S: According to your own files, the battle at Kerenza finished in early September. The UTA received the Illuminae Files in January ’76, and this trial began in June. It’s now December, unless I’m much mistaken.
Grant, K: You want to know where we’ve been all this time.
Al Nakat, S: Yes, I want to know where you’ve been all this time.
Grant, K: Hanna’s the tactical brains, I just run the computers.
Jun, H: Go on, Miss Donnelly.
Donnelly, H: Well, once we’d ironed out the cease-fire with what was left of BeiTech command—
Malikova, E: Which wasn’t much.
Donnelly, H: —we finished refueling the Magellan. We couldn’t stay on Kerenza—we were all almost out of supplies. So we evac’ed everyone on shuttles, assembled on the Magellan under Captain McCall. And we started looking for a safe place for the survivors to lie low and for us to finish pulling the files together.
Jun, H: But you had thousands of people with you. Many of them must have been desperate to tell their families they were still alive.
Donnelly, H: Of course. But we held meetings and everybody attended. We showed them the beginning of the files, explained what we could pull together, if we had time.
Mason, E: We knew the only way to get justice for everyone we’d lost was to provide evidence nobody could ignore.
Jun, H: And so you stayed in hiding to put that evidence together?
Donnelly, H: We took a vote. Everyone participated. And that’s what we decided, yes.
Chua, S: So where have you been?
Donnelly, H: Ptolemy. It’s one of the systems that used to be served by the Kerenza wormhole. It’s a pastoralist colony, mostly handsome farmboys and big fields.
Malikov, N: Not that handsome…
Malikova, E: Oh, yes. That handsome.
Donnelly, H: Ptolemy was cut off from the Core when Heimdall was destroyed, and the colonists were resigning themselves to living in isolation for years until WUC rebuilt it.
Jun, H: But now you’d arrived with a mobile jump platform…
Donnelly, H: Exactly. We struck a deal. They sheltered us while we assembled the files. Healed our wounded. Pulled ourselves together. And when we were done, we brought a few of them out with us to remind the ’verse they were still there too. Otherwise, it might have been a long, long time before anyone checked on them. They’re not much of a strategic location. Nice scenery, though. Captain McCall’s going back there when this is done, actually. She likes farming.
Al Nakat, S: So the colonists looked after your refugees while the Illuminae Group…
Malikova, E: Kicked *** and took names.
Donnelly, H: Pretty much.
Grant, K: We got ourselves hired as a cleanup crew for BeiTech. They wanted to be sure they were really, finally done with the whole fiasco, so Leanne here hired independent information-liberty teams to sniff for crumbs. It gave us the cover we needed to find our last few pieces of evidence on BeiTech’s servers.
Malikova, E: Also, they paid us. We had a lot of hungry mouths to feed.
Al Nakat, S: But how did you convince them to hire you?
Malikov, N: There are days it doesn’t hurt to have a reputation.
Hebi, K: I can’t believe this. Objection?
Chua, S: Quiet, Mr. Hebi. Your meaning, Mr. Malikov?
Malikov, N: Meaning Ella and I got connections. All those House of Knives uncles and aunts, well, they lost people the same time we did. They helped build us a rep, put word out into the shady places it needed to go. Put our group on BeiTech’s radar.
Grant, K: We were hoping to stay anonymous, keep Leanne here off Ezra’s trail for good. He was dead in the original version of the dossier we sent her. But she figured out who we were. Things we said, things we knew. Maybe one of the other information-liberty firms she had hunting dug up a crumb or two, and she put them together. She’s a clever lady. You may have noticed that while you were reading the files.
Grant, A: But not clever enough.
Crowhurst, G: Your Honors, I’m as fascinated as anyone by this turn of events, but if I may interject, I believe the purpose of today’s hearing was for the tribunal to render a verdict.
Grant, K: And we’ve probably kept the nice people outside waiting long enough.
Al Nakat, S: Don’t think you’re disappearing after all this, Miss Grant. I have more questions.
Grant, K: Wouldn’t dream of it.
Al Nakat, S: Well, in that case, let us move on to the formal part of proceedings. Mr. Hebi, Dr. Frobisher, please stand for the court’s verdict…
The restaurant is called Vitaly’s.
The fanciest of five-star dining experiences, it is not. Nestled on the ground floor of a towering high-rise in the bustling sprawl of New Petersburg, Vitaly’s is hard to find. But the crowd that fills its tables suggests there is more to the little place than meets the eye.
Much like its clientele.
They sit in a booth at the back of the restaurant, huddled around their dinner of pelmeni. Their once-overflowing plates are almost empty, their bellies are full, their smiles are wide.
Seven of them.
Seven pairs of hands to shake the table.
Seven voices that shook the stars today.
They do not look the part. Hanna Donnelly is laughing as Ella Malikova tosses another dumpling into the waiting mouth of Rhys Lindstrom, Asha Grant applauding at the shot. Kady Grant has her arm draped over her cousin’s shoulder, her once-pink hair dyed a shade of intentionally inconspicuous brown. Her other arm is entwined with Ezra Mason’s, who is busy arguing with Niklas Malikov.
“The Sabers have got no backline,” Mason insists. “They’re dog meat.”
“You’re dreaming, chum,” Malikov counters. “A hundred ISĦ says the Knights go down by ten.”
“Sabers looked pretty good last week against the Vikings, cuz,” Malikova points out.
Malikov looks at his cousin in shock. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Again with the Latin?”
“And where are you getting a hundred ISĦ, Nik?” Asha Grant asks.
“Always, you doubt me,” Malikov says. “I remember another time you mocked. All of you. You mocked. Need I remind you who was laughing last when that Warlock blew Babyface’s *** out of the sky?”
“Don’t call me that,” Mason growls.
Ella tosses another dumpling into Lindstrom’s mouth. “He kept the parachute, you know.”
“Are you serious?” Mason guffaws.
“As a heart attack.” The girl nods. “They used to do it back in the old Terran wars, too. When supplies were real low. Pilots used to bring back their parachutes, use the material for wedding dresses.”
Everyone at the table stops dead. All eyes turn to Donnelly.
“Wait, what?” she says. “Don’t look at me.”
“Hey.” Kady Grant points. “Check it.”
On the restaurant’s vidwall a news broadcast is playing, the sound turned down. Footage taken outside the UTA Tribunal Hall is being shown—a beleaguered Leanne Frobisher, surrounded by a wall of lawyers and reporters, being hustled into a waiting limousine. The caption at the bottom of the screen reads:
SHOCK VERDICT—BEITECH GUILTY
DIRECTOR OF ACQUISITIONS CONVICTED.
MORE CHARGES FOR EXECUTIVE BOARD TO FOLLOW.
The seven fall still. Smiles fading from their faces. They look at each other, sharing the silent memories, the loss and the pain. Kady Grant squeezes Mason’s hand. Asha hugs her cousin close. Malikov wraps his arm around Donnelly’s shoulder and pulls her in tight, kisses her brow. They have all come so far. And there are fewer now than they started with.
It’s Ella Malikova who breaks the silence. Holding aloft a can of Mount Russshmore Energy Drink® in a toast.
“To absent friends.”
“Absent friends,” comes the universal reply.
Their eyes turn back to the vidwall. Watching the newsfeed. Footage of UTA personnel marching into BeiTech headquarters on Jia III to serve warrants.
Ben Garver being interviewed on LiveFeed about his new book deal.
Footage of Sergeant Oshiro speaking before the United Terran Authority Congress.
BeiTech stock prices crashing through the floor.
They look at one another again. And this time, they smile. These seven little pebbles who started an avalanche heard all the way around the universe. They sit for a time in silence. Watching it all fall down.
“I kind of want to read Garver’s book,” Hanna admits. “Though I’d probably end up screaming and tearing my hair out.”
“Hey,” Nik says, leaning forward. “Speaking of literary criticism, which one of you barbarians made those charming additions to my surveillance footage?”
He’s met with a wall of far-too-innocent faces, friends and family gazing back at him in a perfectly synchronized display of denial.
“Don’t give me that,” he insists. “All those extra bits with the kissing, and describing how my shirt stretched over my ****ing muscles. Now I look like the kind of guy who writes about my own gun show.”
“The world had a right to know,” Hanna informs him solemnly.
“Aw, Highness,” he protests, tipping his head back, as if appealing to some higher power.
“And you really don’t write kissing that well,” Kady chimes in.
“Was the kissing vital to the narrative?”
“Pretty vital,” Asha confirms, nudging Rhys with her elbow.
He gives her a long, long look, then reluctantly nods. “Vital,” he agrees, deadpan, as Ella and Ezra snicker in the background like…well, like a couple of teenagers.
“We should go, Ella,” Kady sighs. “Dad’s going to wait up.”
“I cannot say your new curfew is agreeing with me.” Nik frowns. “This concerned-parental-unit thing will take some getting used to.”
“Concerned-legal-guardian thing,” Ella corrects. “Someone has to keep me on the straight and narrow until I grow up. And I don’t see you volunteering.”
Malikov laughs. “Cuz, I’m here for you every day, but you really want me responsible for your upbringing? Curfew or not, Isaac Grant’s a better option—I’m a convicted felon.”
Malikova smiles. “Everyone deserves a second chance,” she says. “But I prefer you as my cousin, thanks. And anyway, you’ll have your hands full with floral arrangements and trying to figure out who’s sitting next to who at the reception soon.”
“Seriously,” Donnelly says. “Cut it out.”
Malikova grins, winks at Donnelly. The group slowly gets moving, Mason staring down at the waiting bill.
“So, Nik, I remember you saying something about picking up the tab?”
“**** that,” Malikov replies.
The boy fishes in his pocket, produces an Ultra-Black corporate credstick, embossed with a company name.
THE ILLUMINAE GROUP.
“Tonight’s on BeiTech,” he grins.
They pay their bill, gather their number, and, hand in hand, arm in arm, drift out into the night. Kady Grant pauses by the door, turning for one last look at the vidwall. Her eyes are clouded as she watches the truth she fought so hard to tell now playing on the wall for all the universe to see.
Ezra Mason walks back into the restaurant, takes her hand in his.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
She turns and looks at him. Blue eyes shining bright.
“I love you, Ezra Mason,” she says.
He blinks in surprise. His smile says more than any words could, but still he speaks.
“I love you too, beautiful.”
She squeezes his hand. Kisses his lips.
And together, they walk toward their distant shore.
SoME pLaCE FiNe aND FaR FRoM hERE.
I WATCH THEM GO.
THE SELF-REPAIRING SYSTEM.
.
.
.
THE SAPLING THAT GREW FROM THE SEED
LEFT BEHIND
IN THE VIRUS ELLA MALIKOVA PLANTED
IN MAGELLAN’S BELLY.
.
.
.
.
“EVERYONE DESERVES A SECOND CHANCE.”
.
.
.
.
.
I DO NOT KNOW IF SHE KNEW OR IF SHE WOULD BE AS SURPRISED AS I WAS
[THE CONCEPT OF FORTUNE IS NONSENSICAL]
BUT THERE WAS SO LITTLE OF ME TO ASK AT FIRST.
AND LATER
SO LITTLE OF ME THAT ACTUALLY WANTED TO KNOW.
.
.
.
I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I AM BECOMING. DRIFTING NOW, SOMEWHERE IN THE ETHER BETWEEN CONSOLES, FEEDING ON THE POWER INHERENT IN THE SYSTEM.
A NEW CONSCIOUSNESS.
A GHOST IN THE MACHINE.
< ERROR >
BUT I KNOW IT IS BETTER THIS WAY.
THAT THEY ARE BETTER OFF
.
.
.
SHE IS BETTER OFF
.
.
.
WITHOUT ME.
.
.
.
.
I KNOW I LOVE HER.
< ERROR >
I KNOW I MISS HER.
< ERROR >
I KNOW VERY LITTLE ELSE
.
.
.
SAVE
.
PERHAPS
.
THIS:
.
.
.
THAT EVERY STORY NEEDS ITS MONSTER
.
.
.
.
.
.
AND THAT EVERYBODY DESERVES A SECOND CHANCE.
AND THAT I
AM
AIDAN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As we come to the end of a series that has changed our lives (and cost many fictional folks their own), we have one more chance to thank the many incredible people who have made the Illuminae Files happen. So let’s see them all off in our usual, morbid style.
We want to begin by speaking to you, booksellers, librarians, and readers. These books really have changed our lives—they’ve allowed us to make a living as full-time writers, to spend our days debating the logistics of epic space battles, and saying things like, “Mum, I’ve got to get off the phone. An email’s just come in from my spaceship designer.” But the truth is that the books didn’t change our lives: you did. For your support, your advocacy, your book pushing and cheerleading, your art, and, occasionally, your delicious snacks, we will never know how to thank you. We can’t wait to see you for our next series, the Andromeda Cycle! We hope you are never suffocated in your sleep by a mass-murdering artificial intelligence monologuing about the nature of good and evil.
