Jelly Bean echoed the same sentiments more politely. “It probably isn’t a good idea to mention the sword outside of our crew, for your own safety as well as ours. Especially with—”
Bentley had had enough of the voices talking at her. She reached up to her ear and plucked the modified implant from it. Then, with a tiny smile, she dropped it into her drink. Using its corteX uplink, she let it decompose into nanofluid that mixed into the tequila like a strange cyborg cocktail.
“Here,” she placed the glass on the counter, handing it back to the bartender. “Can you get me a fresh one? This one was a bit chatty for my tastes.”
Svend laughed out loud. It was a sincere, full kind of laughter that made Bentley feel all the more attracted to him. She leaned in towards him, wondering how many more drinks she might need before she worked up the courage to kiss him.
+++
Aboard the Zion, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector
Even Thralldom’s detention center was a place of exemplary hospitality, both clean and well-furbished, though still bare by design. It most resembled the waiting area outside of a high-end corporate office, albeit one separated by a six-inch wall of diamond nanothread-reinforced glass that contained the patrons. It even played some light, quiet music as though it were meant to soothe the inmates.
The coziness of his prison hadn’t made the sting of capture any less tolerable to Ivor, though. If anything, it made the humiliation of the whole affair all the more pronounced. He’d been in prisons before, and they were usually squalid, violent places where his warrior instincts quickly put him at an advantage until such a time that his allies could arrive to break him out or he could find another opportunity to fight his way to freedom from within. He was even denied that unique glory at this time, instead being forced to wait quietly in that adequately comfortable faux-leather chair for what must have been hours until finally his father had arrived to retrieve him in what was decidedly the least valorous manner of liberation: the payment of a hefty fine and the signing of an ironclad contract freeing the casino from any liability for injuries he sustained there.
It had been a silent trip back to the Zion. Ivor had accepted this as a necessity so as not to give away why they were there. Until they left orbit, he was not considered fully freed. Still, the look on Nikola’s face spoke volumes. Normally his father was known for his fiery temper, kindled by that blazing passion seen in his eyes. But there was none of that on his ride. Nikola’s face had been one of cold disappointment, a breed of scorn that Ivor felt cutting him deeper than any verbal thrashing or corporal punishment ever could.
The moment they had arrived back within the sanctity of their ship, Ivor wasted no further time in giving his side of the story. “Those sons of bitches were trying to shake me from the start!” he yelled out, letting his outrage finally flow freely. “I told you they were Federation lubbers, dad! And they proved it!”
Nikola glared at his son. “You were captured,” he said. “You represented our forces in a lucrative goddamn mission, and you make a fucking idiot out of yourself in, what, the first five minutes?”
Ivor knew he couldn’t back down here, not even to his father. Or his captain. “The fuck was I supposed to do?” he answered. “They were probably planning this together from the start! This whole mission reeked of Federation sting ops from the start. But they overplayed their hand, and now we can show them who they’re fucking with.”
“Right,” Nikola exhaled, his nostrils flaring the way they always did when his anger went deeper than his relentless battle-readiness. “We’re just going to fire up our guns and engage combat with two of our currently allied ships, who still plan to pay out our share of the mission when it’s over, in spite of my overzealous, ham-fisted fuck-up of a son. Just give up the cash in favor of a big fucking dogfight in the orbit of a high-sec casino! That sounds like a great idea to you now, does it?”
“Anything they promised is Federation garbage!” Ivor insisted. “You can’t honestly trust them over me, can you? They’ve already proven they don’t give two shits about our interests or our cause. At best they just want to fuck us out of the volts. At worst they’re planning to wrap us in a big bow and deliver the whole Zion to their bosses. We strike now, we can still take them by surprise.”
“You know what took me by surprise?” Nikola’s voice boomed at him wrathfully now, enough that the other soldiers on the bridge visibly cringed. “That I thought when we were told to contribute one piece to a team of competent, young recon-ops, I had a great pick. I thought I was giving them one of my best men. But now joke’s on me, huh? Big fucking surprise there!”
“I am your best man!” Ivor screamed back, finding the insinuation to the contrary unbearable. He glanced nervously at his comrades who were witnessing every word of the insult. “And if we’d come in like warriors like we should have from the start, you’d have seen that!”
“Not every problem can be kicked open and blasted apart!” Nikola shouted back. “I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you’ve been alive, and believe me, I’ve tried. Those Federation fucks have bigger boots and way bigger guns. If we play their game, we lose.”
Ivor stepped closer to his father as if ready to literally butt heads with him. “Playing their game is what you’re doing right now,” he cried at him. “I can’t believe you aren’t seeing this. You’re just blind because you need the damn volts.”
“We need the damn volts.” Nikola threw his voice across the room like he could in the midst of a heated firefight. “All of us. And as your fucking captain, it’s my call how to take care of the Zion. It’s your job to follow those orders to the best of your ability.” He made a low, rumbling growl that came between his shouts, and his eyes fixated on his son like a beast ready to defend its territory. “So, either your ability’s not to task, or you’re an insubordinate little shit. Which one is it?”
Ivor examined his father’s battle-hardened face, and saw he wouldn’t be moved by words. That was usually his virtue, but today Ivor saw it as his downfall. “Respectfully, Captain, go fuck yourself.”
Ivor turned and charged past one of the guards at the doorway to make his way towards the barracks. He knew exactly where he needed to go: to the only one he could truly trust to protect the Zion like he would.
Storming through the corridors he arrived at her quarters in no time.
No one had followed him. His father probably ordered the guards to let him cool down.
Like that was going to change anything.
Ivor found Angela sitting on her bed, quietly sharpening a stiletto heel of one of her boots. She tossed her long auburn hair over her shoulder and looked at him with icy, determined eyes. His instincts were right. Everything he knew about the situation, and her… she was the one who would understand.
She would get it.
“You’re out,” Angela said, looking back down to her knife. “What’s up?”
Ivor took a single step inside her quarters, letting the doors close behind him. “Dad isn’t going to stand up for the crew. For the cause. He’s putting us all in danger,” he said. “So it’s up to us. We need to do something.”
She smiled.
CHAPTER TEN
Third Floor, Thralldom Space Station, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector
Bentley’s time with Svend had been something she’d been enjoying immensely, but now that it was just the two of them, without Jade’s excoriation and Jelly Bean’s gentle reminders cycling through her ear, it was something entirely new.
The space on this floor, aided by its air of exclusivity, made her feel like it truly was just them. And the amount of alcohol she’d taken in was enough that she actually did start to forget about her mission. She found herself pretending she was just a normal girl, the way Jade often described, going on a date at a high-class bar with a handsome, well-dressed man.
She was in a fit of laughter at a joke he’d told that she couldn’t even remember, and had to stop to catch her breath
. She realized in that instant that she was leaning in close to him, her hand against his chest for support. When she looked up at him, she noticed that this was the nearest she’d been to him yet, their faces just inches apart. The opportunity to move in for that kiss presented itself. It was the thought that she’d had roaming through her mind since she first started indulging in this date fantasy. He was unflinching at their intimate proximity. It somehow felt inviting, like he knew what she had on her mind, but was respectful enough not to force it on her.
But she knew what she wanted.
She leaned in closer.
Then spontaneously she recoiled. She pushed herself away from him, even surprising herself. She’d been thinking of this moment for nearly an hour, and now that she’d reached it, it brought her renewed awareness of where she was and what she was doing here.
This wasn’t a date.
She wasn’t just a starry-eyed young girl.
And while Svend was decidedly handsome and well-dressed, he wasn’t here to woo her. They were here on an important mission that meant her being able to decide her future. And that future, when she really thought about it, was what bothered her the most of all.
Svend’s only reaction to her advance and sudden retreat was a raise of both his golden eyebrows, his eyes shining with that empathy that made her feel like she could tell him anything. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Bentley shook her head and returned to her drink. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I really like you, but that’s why… I don’t know. I’ve got to be totally honest with you.”
“You’ve seemed honest enough so far,” Svend answered. “And I like you too, for what it’s worth.”
“I don’t think you would if you knew me for real,” Bentley answered. “I’m not sure anybody would.”
“You’ve lost your memories,” Svend replied without any judgment. “With how little time you’ve been around, I can’t imagine there’s a real you that I haven’t seen.”
Bentley averted her eyes from his clear, comforting gaze, lest she be drawn in by the words she desperately wanted to believe. “Do you think that’s how it works?” she asked. “I mean, even if you forget who you are and what you’ve done… That’s still you, isn’t it? You can’t change the past just because you can’t remember it.”
She heard Svend’s voice respond. “I don’t know that there’s any point in dwelling on the past, whether or not you can remember it. Either way, it isn’t anything that can be changed. The only thing you can change is what happens next. Isn’t that who we all are at the end of the day?”
Bentley sipped on her fresh cocktail in hopes it would give her renewed courage. “I’d like to think that, but ever since I’ve woken up, my past has been chasing me. All those run-ins with LaPlace? They wanted me, specifically, and I can’t even say why. The first thing I remember is being next to a man bleeding out in front of me. Like he’d been stabbed. And I had a sword. What the hell does that say about who I was?”
“You think you killed him?” Svend asked casually.
Bentley knocked back the rest of her drink. “I mean, he didn’t act like it,” she said. “But who knows how people act after they’ve been stabbed? Maybe they don’t always say ‘hey, fuck you, you stabbed me, bitch’ or whatever. And there was nobody else on the ship who could’ve done it. Nobody. Well, except Jelly… But she doesn’t seem like the old-man-stabbing type.”
“Neither do you.”
Bentley hiccupped and covered her mouth. “You think so?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “So far the only things I’ve reliably been able to remember are close quarters combat and computer wrangling. Seems like a pretty specific skill set. Where do you think a non-stabbing type of girl gets those from?”
Svend gave her a nonchalant shrug and finished his own drink. True to his words he hadn’t so much as showed a slur in his speech and continued matching her shot-for-shot. “All sorts of places, I’d think.”
Bentley gave a resigned sigh and leaned on the bar. “Yeah, well, we can only guess,” she said.
Svend arched one eyebrow, his eyes shining like he’d been inspired. “Not necessarily,” he told her. “We could find out for sure.”
It took a moment for her to register what he had just said. “What? Huh? What are you talking about?”
Svend waved away the bartender now, silently deciding the both of them had drunk enough. “You’ve probably been told about how the Odysseus has some unique tech on it, haven’t you?”
“You mean besides most of its crew?”
He chuckled. “Yes, besides that. One of the things we have onboard is advanced retinal scanners. With enough time and luck we can sometimes use it to digitally recreate old retinal imprints.”
“I’m uh, not following,” Bentley said slowly. She was sure she might have understood if she’d been a little more sober, but that was something she certainly was not.
“You’d be able to see the world through your old eyes,” Svend explained to her. “We might be able to piece together all those bits of your past we’ve lost.”
“You can seriously do that?” Bentley brightened, sobering a little. She’d made her peace with having lost any real grip on her past for a while now. But now that she was faced with any hope of piecing it together, she felt a new pang of desire that she realized had been there all along, as hard as she’d tried to keep it pushed down.
Svend tilted his head to one side in consideration. “I can’t promise it’ll work,” he told her. “But it’s been done before. It’s more than worth a try.”
“Well, shit! Let’s do it!” Bentley stood up, and only then realized how tipsy she really was. She tripped forward and Svend caught her by the arm. He helped her upright as though they’d just been engaged in a graceful ballroom dance. Bentley felt another urge to kiss him, but her eagerness to recover who she was took enough precedence that she was able to regain her composure.
“First things first,” Svend told her, keeping his hand gently grasping her arm. “We’ve got a job to do, remember? Fourth floor.”
Bentley caught her breath and waited for the room to stop spinning. For the first time in hours she no longer hoped this night would never end. Now she wanted to see it to its conclusion and get on with discovering who she really was.
“I remember,” she said, giving herself just enough distance not to be tempted by his lips. “Think I’m drunk enough to pass?” She hiccupped again, effectively answering her own question.
“Oh, I think you’ll manage just fine.” Svend began to lead her by the hand towards the stage, where the android woman was just finishing her performance. He took her to the left of it, and into a narrow corridor that led backstage.
There was only one guard in this hall, a broad-shouldered, gray-haired man in a maroon suit. The way he was standing was almost enough to take up the entirety of where he stood in the hallway.
“Just one guard?” Bentley said in drunken incredulity. “We coulda taken him for sure…”
“Ssh.” Svend placed his index finger to Bentley’s lips and nodded his head to either side of the hall. She noticed a glimmering that could have been easily mistaken for glitzy decor. But, from Bentley’s increasingly extensive experience with weaponry of this sort, she recognized it as adaptive nanomachinery. It was likely one of the advanced scanners Svend had alluded to.
“The walls, huh?” she muttered as she cautiously stepped into their area of detection.
Svend nodded and replied quietly. “Every inch of it.” He turned to look at them with a bright smile as though he were merely admiring it all, posing for the millions of advanced cameras. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he said with what sounded like a mock-patrician accent. “I don’t know how they get the walls like this. Some kind of diamond matrix, maybe? I wish we could have our atrium made up like this…”
He ran his fingers across the walls to feel their texture. Bentley took this as a sign to do the same. When her hand came in touch with the
glistening silver security system, she felt a kind of warmth from the technology activating, likely confirming her alcohol intake. “Pretty…” she slurred her speech, not having to lay it on but not making any real effort to keep her composure. “Where’s my reflection, though?”
Svend laughed loudly, letting it echo down the hall while they advanced further. “It’s not a mirror, Lady Merriweather. That would be so inexpensively dull, wouldn’t it?”
“Dull,” Bentley agreed, dragging her palm across the wall. “No doubt.”
They were soon face to face with the gray-haired man. He took a puff from his cigar, quietly examining the pair of them, wordless until Svend took one more step. As though he’d triggered an alarm, the man spoke with rehearsed eloquence. “I’m sorry, sir and madam, but the party is the other way. This is a restricted area.”
Svend made a dramatic gesture with the hand that wasn’t leading Bentley by the wrist. “Oh, I’m sure it is. That’s why we’re on our way there. We’ve grown bored with the space and quietude of this floor, and you wouldn’t ask us to descend when we’ve come so far, would you?”
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