He looks down at me without a smile and then moves away toward the main cabin.
“Why was she in the Gulf?” I ask. He stops and I wish I had read his psychological profile in Moira’s SIB database when I was younger. I remember he was secondary heir to his older brother Aeneas, who died at the Battle of Ilium. He’s risen to the challenge of being an heir, it seems. No easy task. I would know.
“Shut up, Castor,” Cassius mutters to me. “Take your gift and be silent.”
I don’t shut up. Whether Cassius wants to admit it or not, these people are our kin. And if I do not stir the pot, the only opportunities will be the ones they choose to give us. That is unacceptable.
“She was in the Gulf for a reason,” I say to Diomedes. “And without permission from your father, it would seem.” Diomedes turns back, measuring me with a blademaster’s gaze: eyes then hands then scars. “Do you even know why? Or is that Krypteia jurisdiction?” His silence speaks for him. There it is. A chink in the emotional stoicism of the man. I appeal to what seems his strongest sense, that of a soldier’s honor: “If you are truly thankful that we saved Seraphina, save us. Do not let us see Io. We’re traders, that is all. We thought we stumbled upon salvage. All we’ve seen is a hangar, cells, and this ship. If we see anything beyond this ship, we both know we will never leave. Let me and my brother and our pilot go back from where we came. Escort us to the edge of your space and send us on our way. That is what is honorable. Life for life.”
“My brother is a child,” Cassius grovels to the knight. “Forgive his mouth. It tends to run. He didn’t grow up amongst his own.”
Diomedes walks back to me and cocks his head as if I were the most curious of bugs. “There are no eyes like yours beyond the Belt. You are a pretty boy. Aren’t you?” I don’t reply. “How old are you, Martian?”
“Twenty.”
“Your brother is right. You speak like one of our children.” With an easy show of strength, he grabs the chain attached to the back of my muzzle and pulls it so hard I’m lifted off my feet. My neck bends painfully. “A lesson is needed. I will teach you.”
“Don’t…” Cassius says from behind his muzzle.
Diomedes presses something on his datapad and Cassius’s muzzle buzzes with electricity. Shaking violently, Cassius falls back into his seat and I’m dragged by my chain through the prison unit into the loading bay. Diomedes shoves me into the center of the floor doors and presses me to my knees into the worn intersection of a painted red X. He does something behind me I can’t see, though I hear the click of metal and feel the evil fingers of fear slithering through my stomach. It’s a test. Slow your breathing. Do not be afraid. Stand astride the torrent.
He talks as he works.
“When I was a boy, I remember the envoys the Core would send. Slippery Politicos in their slick suits, fingers laden with gaudy rings.” I glance back and see him unspooling a cable that’s now attached to the back of my harness. “All they wanted to see were the seas of Europa. The mountains and towers and dockyards of Ganymede. Always, though, they had to come see my grandfather. To pay homage to Revus au Raa, because power lies where honor reigns. But you could smell the derision when they came to my home. They called my family savages behind our backs, safe under our shields. Rustics. Dusteaters.” Trailing the cable behind him, he walks to a red button protected by a plastic case on the wall. It takes every ounce of courage I have to remain kneeling in the center of the door and not to scramble to safety. He smiles at my inability to tame my fear. My hands shake. “They were startled by my grandfather’s hospitality. The respect he showed them. The gentle way in which he spoke, even as the Codovan and Norvo gnashed their teeth over Rhea. They mistook grace for weakness. Abused his kindness. Then Fabii learned the lesson I am about to teach you.”
“I don’t have an oxygen mask,” I say.
“No. You do not.”
With that, he slams his hand against the red button and the steel doors beneath my knees retract, leaving me kneeling on open air. My stomach rises up into my throat as I plummet out the belly of the craft, legs thrashing, holding my breath against the poisonous air. Wind roars through my ears. Then a horrible pain erupts at my waist as the cable snaps taut and arrests my fall, digging into my skin and jerking me upward. My head snaps down into the restraining vest so hard I feel metal puncture my skin and nick the bone of my forehead, sending flashing lights scattering across my vision. Blood streams into my eyes and I swing up, pressed to the belly of the craft as it races across a sky stained with acid-yellow clouds.
My body lurches into shock from the temperature. I’ll die from the heat well before I gasp for oxygen. I close my eyes as needles of fire stab into my brain. Sound and fury swallow me, pain as my body slaps against the hull. And just as my lungs have depleted their oxygen, I’m dragged back into the hangar by the chain and tossed onto the floor. I gasp for air and it’s some time before I can open my eyes. My body aches and my skin feels alive with fire. Diomedes stands over me, his dark eyes still and quiet, no evil in them, no malice. “Have you learned the lesson, gahja?” he asks. It is a lesson in respect.
“Apologies,” I manage.
This is met with a satisfied look from the man. “Forgiven,” he says, hoisting me up by my bonds. “Welcome to Io.”
“BLOODYDAMN.” I CURSE AND draw my hand back from the rosebushes. A small drop of blood beads where the thorn pricked me. I suck the blood away and stretch myself deeper into the bushes, feet spread wide so I don’t lose my balance in the low gravity as I scoop up the fox shit with my trowel. Body still hasn’t wised up to its own weight here. I reach the scat this time, taking a clump of dirt with it, and finally dump the waste into the blue plastic container Dr. Liago gave me for sample collection. Sophocles has been mad as a box of snakes since we arrived on Luna last week, trying his best to kill the lovely pachelbel birds that fill the trees of the Citadel’s gardens.