“Never been a slave. Wouldn’t know.”
“We were promised everything when they brought us up; then I lost my family. My whole family. You can whine about your nicks and scrapes, but you got no idea what that’s like. Should I turn nasty because I saw evil done to them? Should I blame the worlds? I blamed myself. I blamed the Sovereign. And what luck did that get me?” She clears her throat, emotion welling. “You asked me if I believe in the Vale. I don’t know. I don’t know if it exists or if they watch me. But I know it doesn’t matter if they can see us. What matters is that we can feel them. Remember them. And try to live to be as good as we were in their eyes.”
I look away from her to the window where pink clouds twirl.
“Trigg might be gone, yeah. I know you feel robbed. But you gotta remember that he saw something to love in you, even if you can’t see it. He saw you as a good man, Ephraim. So if you ever loved him, be a good man.”
“That man never even existed. It was just something Trigg made up to make himself feel better.”
“Then why did you not kill me in the shuttle?”
“I did. I pulled the trigger. The safety was on. It was just luck.”
“You could have pulled the trigger again. But you didn’t. You let me live.”
“And look what happened.”
“This man you’re playing at. You sure he’s not the one you made up to make yourself feel less?”
I feel everything now. As I stare out the window at the ships bound for orbit, I see Trigg in the waters of the Aegean Sea when we took our first vacation during his leave. I remember him playing his little guitar in the hammock behind our bungalow. He sounded terrible but I loved watching the sweat beading on his temples, the freckles on his shoulders, the childish laugh in a man the world kept trying to make hard. He was patient with me. Slowly breaking down the walls that had stood tall since my mother looked at me and said she loved me for the thousand credits a month. He proposed on that vacation.
All the good memories of him have been held hostage by the horror of his exit. Now the bars crack, the doors open, and they flood me. All I want is to say goodbye to him. To let him know he was mine and I was his. But sitting here, surrounded by the ruinous shit I’ve made, I still can’t feel anything but anger.
I look at Holiday and I don’t have anything to say. I can’t apologize. The words just won’t come out; just as she will never apologize for letting him die, not even to herself. But she sees the animal pain in me.
“He would have wanted you to fix this,” she says.
“I don’t know where they are,” I say.
Holiday’s more comfortable talking about the kidnapping than she is about Trigg. “Who was it?”
“Syndicate. My contact was the Duke of Hands.”
She already knew. “Could you identify him?”
“Yeah. But I doubt he’s in the census. He was a Rose. High, high end. Private stock of a loaded Gold. Start your search there. And there was an Obsidian named Gorgo, definitely military. Not fresh from the Ice.” She takes notes. “What’s your exposure, Holiday? What could they want?”
“You tell me. There’s been no proof of life. No demands.”
“They didn’t kill them,” I say. “The Duke said they were for the Queen.”
“Did you meet her?” Holiday asks.
“No. Word in the game is that she’s an Obsidian warlord from Earth. No one knows for sure.”
“Really?” Holiday frowns. “Republic Intelligence has been operating under the assumption that she’s a Red for more than a year now.”
“A Red?” Lyria whispers.
“You think Obsidians would follow a Red?” I laugh.
“There’s also a chance they’re working with the Society,” Holiday says.
“That seems unlikely.”
“Why?”
“The Duke was a slave. He loathes the slavers. If he’s working for the Ash Lord, he doesn’t know it. Is this about the Peace?”
“Maybe.” Holiday looks out the window nervously, or as nervous as a woman with a head like a cinder block can look.
“Expecting someone?”
“You should tell him,” Lyria says. “He’s got the right to know.”
“Know what?” I lean forward. “Know what?”
“We aren’t the only ones looking for the children….”
“Slag me.” I half stand from my seat. “He’s back? The Reaper?” I look out the window, feeling the color drain from my face. “Ares?”
“Worse,” Holiday says. “The Lady Julii is on the hunt. And she’s out for blood.”
“She’s eight months pregnant. Forgive me if I don’t shake in my boots.”
Holiday smiles. “She attacked an Augustan shuttle over Hyperion in full war armor because Lyria was inside.”
I stare at her. “I didn’t know they made maternity armor.”
“They do.”
“Does she know it’s the Syndicate?”
Holiday shrugs. “We don’t know what she knows. And she’s not sharing information. We caught some of her investigators breaking into the crash site.”
I scratch my head. Fingers are getting itchy for a burner, stomach knotted for more zoladone. “Well, if that woman declares war on the Syndicate, the kids are as good as chopped. They’ll start sending body parts to the Citadel in thorn-wrapped boxes.”
“Which is why we are here and Republic Intelligence is not,” Holiday says. “You know the Syndicate better than we do. We need you to come in and help coordinate the rescue effort.”
“Not a chance. They have people in your government.”
Holiday squints. “How do you know that?”
“We were given the boy’s itinerary more than a month in advance. But they didn’t volunteer any other insiders. Prolly didn’t want to burn them. Which is why I had to recruit you….” I look at Lyria. “If they know I’m helping you…”
“Body parts,” Lyria says.
“If we’re compromised, then you’ll have to retrieve them,” Holiday says.
I snort a laugh. “Fuck that.”
“Thought you’d say that. I know you don’t care about your life, Ephraim. But something tells me you care about hers.” She sets a holocube down on the table and an image of a cell appears with a woman hunched on a bench with her head in her hands. It’s Volga.
“We found her at the Cerebian Zoo,” Holiday says. “She was easier to find than you were. What wasn’t easy was keeping the Telemanuses from killing her on sight.”
“If you touch a hair on her head…”
“No. It’s your turn to listen. Your turn to obey. If you do not do everything I ask, then I will give her to the Telemanuses.” Lyria looks as surprised as I am.
“Don’t hurt her,” I say.
Holiday leans back. “So there is someone in there.”
“She didn’t want to do it.”
“I don’t care. You will bring me the children. Then you can have your friend back.” She stares back at me without remorse. “This is the game you decided to play.”