by Lisa Jade
I back up a little, resting one hand on the console. Nearly there. Just have to keep him distracted for a moment longer. I fix him with a taunting look.
“Even your own offspring hate you. I wonder how that feels.”
I expect him to be enraged; but instead, he just steps forward. His expression is calm, almost empty, and it unnerves me. I’d planned to get him angry enough to blurt the truth, but he’s not reacting at all. He’s totally in control.
“The people aboard this ship, just like my offspring, don’t know what’s best for them,” he says simply, “one day, they’ll understand. Then, they’ll appreciate everything I’ve done.”
“Please. Educate me. Why do you hate people like me so much?”
“Because you’re lesser. Look at you. You think I didn’t know exactly who you were the whole time? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t vet everyone who wanted to be a Companion? Are you really so thick to believe I wouldn’t double and triple check that the stowaway from that first day had been accounted for?”
My hand touches the button, but I don’t push it. Not yet. I want to hear this.
“You knew I was a stowaway.”
“I knew everything about you, Quinn Hart. Daughter of Angelique, branded criminal on Four. I don’t recall the exact charge. Theft? Undue resistance? Doesn’t matter.”
Damn. Is there anyone on this ship who didn’t know me at first glance? I grit my teeth.
“If you knew who I was the whole time, then why not arrest me? If I’m so dangerous, why did you let me spend so much time with your children? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Initially, I was impressed. Nobody has ever successfully sneaked aboard a Gene Cruise and lived to tell about it. Not to mention your heritage. Once I met you, I had you pinned as a bit of a lost soul. Confused and fiery, but harmless enough. Never would have thought you were involved in the attacks. I’ll admit that I let things go on for far too long. I just wanted to see what Angelique’s daughter was capable of.”
He steps closer, and my hand nudges the button. I hear a dim click. They can hear us now. Good.
“Well, now you know. Impressed?”
He shrugs.
“I suppose I should be. You exceeded my expectations, at least. I’d expected you to cave under the pressure, but you didn’t. Even so, I’d hoped for more intelligent responses from you. Rushing in here and demanding to know the results of my investigations? Such a foolish thing to do. And drawing attention to yourself at every turn, that wasn’t the smartest choice either. If your intention was to remain hidden while carrying out your plans, you did a terrible job of it.”
I step away, but he’s too close. My back hits the console and I freeze. Damn. I allowed him to step nearer with each line he fed me, and now I’m within his grasp.
“See,” he says, leaning forward, “that’s the difference between you and I, Miss Hart. I’m the pinnacle of genetic possibility. I’ll live to a hundred or more. I’ll never get sick, I’ll always brush off injuries that could kill someone weaker. My IQ is higher than your entire family’s combined.”
Hatred burns in his eyes and he shifts a little closer, now assured of his victory.
“Now, look at you. You’re small, Miss Hart. Weak, too. Your genes determine that you will die young, get sick, struggle more. In a world as overpopulated as ours, we now deny our nature. There are rules in the natural word, you know. Survival of the fittest. What that means is that inferior specimens like you should be wiped out, to allow those of us who stand a chance to thrive.”
He’s close. Too close. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face, and it sends quivers of fear through me. This is what Isaac warned me about. I swallow hard.
“So you support it, then?” I ask, “you support what they do on Orithyia?”
“Hmm?”
“You know… what they do there. What do you think about it?”
For a moment he stares, and I’m sure I’ve got him. But then his lips turn up at the corners, and a triumphant look crosses his face. He leans in, pressing his lips against my ear so the Intercom can’t pick it up.
“You think I don’t see that button glowing? You’re not getting a confession out of me.”
He starts forward and I jump aside, but he’s faster than me. A heavy hand finds my shoulder and he turns me around, holding me firmly in his grip. That look of triumph has grown stronger.
“I’m tired of you, kid. I think it’s time to end this.”
“I think so…”
The retort is supposed to be snappy, witty – but my voice falters. His smile grows. Instinct takes over and I tear myself from his grip; a moment later something strikes my chest and I soar backwards, rolling into a heap on the floor.
Everything aches. Did he punch me? It felt like a goddamn bulldozer. I take several deep breaths and roll onto my front, desperate to get away. This isn’t working. I need to create space between us. Maybe I can get him talking again. But he’s already walking over to me, his steps steady and full of purpose. I stand, fighting to steady my breathing.
“I think I deserve an explanation,” I bark, “for everything you’ve done.”
“You can’t distract me. I won’t say what you want me to say.”
“But…”
I trail off mid-sentence and jump away. If I can just create some space. Just ten feet of distance between us, and I can come up with a plan. I can still salvage this.
A foot catches my legs and I stagger, somehow wriggling away. Five feet. It’ll do. I draw myself up to full height, still dimly aware of how easily he towers over me. Amusement plays in his eyes.
The realisation hits me. He’s not even trying. He’s toying with me, enjoying the terror in my face whenever he gets too close. This is some kind of sick game to him. Dread builds in my chest.
What do I do when he stops playing?
“This won’t change anything,” I say, pushing as much bravado as possible into my voice, “I’m not the last one, you know. Others will just keep trying to fight you. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s another full year left of this trip. You beat the others. You can kill me too, but it won’t stop them. Do you really think you can hold out forever?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead he just steps forward, crossing the space between us in two steps. I duck his first blow with surprising ease, and for a moment I think I’ve gained an advantage – but then a knee finds my stomach, and the air vanishes from my body.
“I’m sure I can manage,” he hisses. His voice is filled with barely concealed laughter. He loves this. He’s enjoying watching me jump away, helpless to do anything but run. I push up onto my knees, coughing hard. I can’t breathe. He knocked the wind out of me with a single hit. How is it this easy for him?!
Shit. I’m letting everyone down. Luci and Isaac are probably with the group now, ready for the dramatic reveal; and meanwhile, I’m getting the hell beaten out of me.
He steps back and allows me to stand. Everything aches. He probably broke a couple of ribs. I face him down for a long moment, trying desperately to find some weakness. Nothing. He’s just a wall of muscle. Some small part of me whines. He was right. His genetics are better. There’s no way for me to win this fight.
I sidestep him and swing out with one hand – but I’ve never thrown a punch before, and though the blow lands, he barely reacts. Instead he just shifts aside so I lose my balance, then tightens his hand into a fist and sends it into the side of my skull. I hit the ground hard and for a second, the world turns dark.
But then I’m awake, curled into a ball on the tiled floor. Blood streams from my ear and down my neck, and there’s a terrible pounding in my head. I open my mouth to fire a witty comment his way, but all that comes out is a groan.
“Come on, Miss Hart. I thought you were going to teach me a lesson.”
It takes all the strength I have to stand again, and when I do, the world dips and sways around me. I stumble a little, catching myself on the nearest conso
le. Everything hurts now. I tell myself it’s just a bump, that I can shake it off, but that doesn’t help. Because the Captain’s eyes are glittering with enjoyment as he watches me struggle.
In his eyes, I deserve it. I’m a lesser species, undeserving of a moment of his time. It’s a sick, perverse kind of pleasure. My stomach tightens. I’d thought he was the same vein of psychopath as the Operators back home. That he just enjoyed hurting people for his own amusement. But that’s not it. This man has so, so much more about him.
He doesn’t just want to hurt me. He needs to.
“You’re insane,” I sputter. He shakes his head.
“I really did expect more from you. After all that big talk about defending your friends, I figured you had some kind of hidden ability to actually do so. Something incredible that you’d pull out at the last possible second. Something that might give me a challenge. But I guess not. This is the best you could throw at me, isn’t it? Just you.”
He’s on me before I can move, and though I strain against his grip, he seems unfazed. A hand finds my chin, pulls my face up to his. Our eyes are only inches apart now, and as his lips twist into a triumphant grin, I come to a horrible realisation.
I’ve lost.
The pain comes a moment later. A sudden sting in my abdomen, unlike anything I’ve felt before. In an instant, I can’t breathe – but I can feel the Crysalin blade buried deep in my stomach, every ridge on the blade pressing against something in my gut.
The Captain sneers.
“Thank you for finding these blades for me. They’ve proven incredibly useful.”
And then he pulls it out, and my body gives up. I collapse into a heap at his feet, blood streaming from the fresh wound. Agony. This is agony. I’d take a hundred Brandings before this. My lungs strain for air, but nothing goes in. My head spins.
He pulls out a handkerchief and casually wipes the blood from the knife.
“I’ll grant you one thing. You keep trying. Bonus points for tenacity.”
I clutch at my stomach and gasp at the fresh pain there.
“Anything you’d like to say?” he teases, “we’re still on the Intercom, you know.”
It takes an immense effort to raise my head and look at him; but when I do, untold anger fills my chest.
“Fuck you.”
He delivers a swift kick to my stomach, and scream bursts out before I can stop them. I slap a hand over my mouth, desperate to hold in the pained cries. But my hand is slick with blood, and my gorge instantly rises from the taste.
“You should really think before you speak,” he growls, “I could have allowed you to live, if you’d played your cards right. You’d have had an interesting career on Orithyia, if nothing else. Unfortunately…”
Another kick. Another series of screams. My entire body is wracked with shakes, quivering with the effort of remaining conscious. My vision dips in and out, fading occasionally to an unnerving blackness. I’ve given up trying to hold the wound; the pain is too great. I don’t care about bleeding out. I’ll suffocate long before that.
He walks away briefly, then comes back. Even through my fading vision, I can see the gun in his hands. He clicks off the safety and gazes down at me.
“Look,” he says, “I’m a merciful man. I’ll let you go easy. Painlessly. If you apologise.”
I glare up at him.
“M-maybe you didn’t… hear me,” I choke, “I said, fuck you.”
This time, he rams the butt of the gun into my gut – and it hurts even more than before. My limbs give way and I curl onto my side, watching my own blood form rivers in the cracks between the pristine tiles.
“Hmm. No screams this time. Does that mean you give in?”
I don’t reply. I can’t. It’s taking all the energy I have just to stay awake. My hands fold into fists - the only movement I can manage.
I can’t let this happen. I need to move.
The Captain cocks his gun, aiming it at my head. I can’t do it. I can’t do anything. Can’t move. Can’t even breathe. I let my eyes close as he steps closer.
Yelling. Scuffling. The sound of someone being thrown to the floor.
My eyes snap open. Despite my failing vision, I can see what just happened. The Captain is sprawled on the floor, his eyes fixed on the person standing before me. They’re just a shadow, but I can make out enough detail. A lean figure stands protectively over me, their long hair shifting softly behind them.
Isaac.
Dainty hands find my shoulders.
“Oh my god…”
Luci?
“How is she?” Isaac asks, his voice hard. He’s not looking at us. His gaze is fixed on the Captain. Luci shakes her head.
“This is bad, Isaac. She’s really hurt.”
He growls, rounding on his father.
“What the fuck did you do?!”
The Captain wipes something from his face. He’s clearly stunned that Isaac would strike him – even more shocked that he was strong enough to send him flying.
“You two… idiots. What the hell are you doing here? How did you get out of your rooms?”
“Shut it. What did you do to her?”
A mirthless laugh.
“Details don’t matter. She’s not a problem anymore.”
Luci’s hand tightens on my shoulder. She leans closer, and her free hand pushes my hair from my face.
“Quinn. Quinn, can you hear me?”
I can. I just can’t talk. Can’t do a thing to acknowledge her. I can hardly keep my eyes open.
“Come on…”
“You’re wasting your time,” her father snaps, “you think I don’t know how to carry out an efficient execution? The criminal will bleed out and die, whether you like it or not.”
She gasps, her eyes trailing over the smears of blood marring the perfect tiles.
“No…”
Isaac lets out a snarl.
“You bastard!”
“Say what you want, son. Be angry at me if that’s what makes you feel better. But rest assured, you’ll thank me later. You both will. Everything I’ve done was for you. For your safety. This girl is nothing more than a menace. A known criminal, but I think you knew that already. The fact that you let her get close to you is, frankly, disconcerting.”
Suddenly his voice turns dark.
“It seems that a re-education is in order for you both.”
Luci whimpers, but for once, Isaac seems unfazed by the threat.
“You won’t be laying a hand on either of us again.”
“Oh, please…”
“If you touch either of us,” Isaac spits, “I’ll kill you.”
He dares to glance back at us, and fear briefly crosses his face – but it’s replaced instantly by a kind of unbridled rage I’d never have thought him capable of.
“Dad, I swear. If Quinn dies, I’ll rip you to pieces myself.”
“Give it your all, son. We’ll see how that turns out. You’re scared of me. Always have been. Back home, we call that ‘respect for authority’. One way or another, Isaac, you will respect me.”
Something catches in my throat and I cough on a familiar metallic taste. Blood? Luci’s eyes widen in horror.
“Isaac!” she yelps, “things are taking a turn for the worse over here!”
He grits his teeth.
“I can handle this. Just keep her alive, Luci. Please.”
She nods and looks back down at me.
“Keep breathing, okay?” she coos, “it’ll be fine. We’ll get you to a MedBay and patch you up. Give you blood mimic. Everything will be just fine.”
Strange. Why does it sound like she doesn’t believe her own words?
Isaac leans down and scoops something up off the floor. I can barely see through the clouds in my vision, but I can make out the shape of the Captain’s firearm. He grips it tightly, then directs it at his father.
“Come on,” the Captain sneers, “you won’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you.”
Suddenly the pain starts to fade. Instead, I become aware of how cold it’s become. Like the water in the Oasis, or the vacuum of space. Only this time, the cold is coming from me.
Oh, god. I’m dying.
Luci speaks again, but her voice is muffled. A hand finds me, shakes me – and though I expect pain, nothing comes. I stare into the blackness, unsure if the lights are off or if my vision has finally given up.
Dimly, I hear Luci screaming.
Twenty-Six
Light.
I feel it burn through my eyelids. Bright. Why is it so bright?
I’m lying on something cold and metallic, arms limp at my sides. I strain to move them, to open my eyes. Nothing. Then, something else comes clear. Voices, dull and muffled, coming from the next room over. They sound vaguely familiar, but though I search my memory, I can’t place them. I try to remember the last thing that I saw, or heard, or felt. Nothing. My mind is totally blank, rendering me useless.
Finally, I hear a click and a long hiss, like a gas release opening. Something warm touches my neck.
“Hey. Are you back with us?”
A hand strokes my head, pushing my hair back – and as skin touches skin, feeling returns to my body. Everything hurts. There’s something dried on my hands and matted into my hair. My front is drenched, the cloth of my dress drying stiffly beneath the stuff.
This voice is familiar, too. I ignore the heaviness in my eyelids and force myself to look.
For a moment, I’m blind. But then something shifts, and a silhouette blocks out the light.
“Quinn. Can you see me?”
I blink hard. The silhouette is familiar; and as my eyes adjust to the blinding light, I finally recognise it. Mousy hair, large eyes. A small frame with hunched shoulders. Concern thinly hidden behind a small smile.
“There you are,” says Terri, “do you think you can sit up?”
She sits back and tugs at my arms, pulling me with her. My body feels heavy, but she moves me with shocking ease. Once I’m up, my eyes come clear.
I’m in the MedBay tube, slumped on the metallic table. The glass walls around me still hum, like they’re cooling down after being activated. Memories of the confrontation flash in my mind and I look down, half-expecting to see wounds.
