Carriles met Timony’s gaze and felt a wave of relief wash over him.
For so much.
He was home. The drive had worked better than expected. Aside from a brutal headache and some mild nausea, the new quantum drive was a massive leap in technology. The first thing they’d noticed, as the Mosaic entered New Destiny space, was the Mutual warship, casting the city into a deep well of shadow. Everything about the Mutual, Carriles mused, looked sleek—spherical and smooth, and not how he’d imagine a ship or tool or anything. It was unsettling.
But they’d arrived. They were here.
Carriles couldn’t really believe it. He hadn’t expected to be back—even before the whole mission went sideways.
He’d left Vicks and Robinson on board the Mosaic, to not only study the unfathomable updates that had been made to the ship’s drive but to keep Delmar and his acolytes under watch. The last thing Carriles needed was for the former captain to escape and make an already risky gambit more so.
Carriles had to lean in on everything he’d seen his mother do. He had to become a negotiator, a diplomat. Carriles had to figure out how to sell this idea—that the Mutual would not only let Earth and its colonies live but enter the Mutual as a probationary member—to the Interstellar Union, without losing the various member countries to a spiral of bickering and backstabbing.
On paper, it seemed like a no-brainer: we don’t get annihilated and get a part of what some of our more excitable members wanted to steal for free, with more to come in time. But if Carriles had learned anything from his mother, it was that diplomacy was a nuanced and complicated art, one that involved equal amounts of appeasement and force.
Sometimes if you leaned too hard in one direction, the whole house of cards could come tumbling down.
For this to work, they needed Tobin. He’d already helped quell the riots taking place across New Destiny, addressing the crowds through the public address system and explaining that the ship outside the dome didn’t mean them any harm. It was a lie, of course, but it had worked. At least long enough to allow every cop and Bazaar operative to retake control of the streets.
But it wouldn’t be a comfortable arrangement. Despite his name, Carriles didn’t have the clout to stand in front of the IU and argue a case in favor of humanity. The IU wouldn’t even let him in the room. The political landscape was especially precarious, with the death of the ship’s first officer, Wu, and a handful of other crew members, and reports of the Americans firing on the Chinese contingent of the Mosaic mission. The Russians, too, were probably gearing up for a fight.
Tobin could fix it. He had to clean up the mess he’d created. Timony and Carriles had enough dirt on him to force his hand and get him to play nice, they figured. Nobody was better at wheeling and dealing in the halls of the Interstellar Union than Tobin, no matter how big a scumbag he might be.
Carriles hesitated as he stepped into the large Interstellar Union conference room. Timony stood at the doorway, her eyes locked on him. Tobin was seated at the far end of a massive glass table, wearing a shit-eating grin, despite the woman standing over him like a sentry. Her features were similar to Izaiah’s, so Carriles presumed this woman was the Mutual spy he’d briefly met years before, Oneida.
Carriles felt something on his arm, and realized it was Timony, her fingers gently squeezing, as if she was trying to reassure him that he was home, that he was safe.
“It’s good to see you, Jose,” she said with a nod, her eyes wide.
Were they watering, Carriles wondered?
“Uh, same, yes—I wish it was under better circumstances,” he stammered. “I should have done more. I should have—”
Timony offered him a grim smile. “Let’s talk about it later.”
“Nice work,” Oneida said, raising her voice from across the room.
“On what?” Carriles asked.
She shrugged. “The redemption of your entire race.” There was no sign of humor or sarcasm in her tone. Carriles was beginning to enjoy the flat delivery of the Reosians. It was refreshing in a world where everything anybody said tended to be snide or cutting.
“Thanks,” Carriles said.
He stepped forward and looked at Tobin, that grin still plastered on the senator’s face. Carriles wanted to smack it off.
His mind flashed back to that strange hour of transit, during which his entire body had felt discombobulated and pulled apart, the Mosaic hurtling back home. He’d spent most of the time in Delmar’s quarters, the only personal space equipped with a wire terminal, alternating between hashing things out with Telio and talking to Timony. The latter felt natural. Like old times. Two friends strategizing a play in the park.
But it was also fraught. Everything had to not only work but it had to work perfectly for them to have a chance at success—at survival. A misstep would be dire on a galactic scale.
No pressure, Carriles thought.
Because of Tobin’s standing in the Interstellar Union, they needed him to sell the plan to his colleagues. He and Timony had agreed that, despite the man’s sins, this tenuous deal Carriles had struck with the Mutual needed every bit of support it could get. So they’d let him keep his position, they decided, but they’d make it clear it came with one big caveat.
This was the first step in a long journey, Carriles knew.
He took in a short breath and started to speak.
“Tobin, I think we can all safely agree you’re a piece of shit,” he said, looking down at the disgraced senator. “But even you have to understand what needs to happen. Not just for your survival, which I realize is your primary concern, but for humanity in general. No more games.”
Tobin didn’t respond.
“The Mutual is going above and beyond by allowing us provisional membership. The only catch is—if we fuck up? We’re out. It could make us their enemies. Which, as you probably saw when that giant ship was hovering in orbit above New Destiny, could be very bad,” Carriles said.
“This is where you come in,” Timony said, stepping alongside Carriles, both of them looking down at the man they had once admired. “This is where you make up for everything. For the double crosses, for the betrayal—for what happened to Slade. This is your shot at redemption.”
“What do I get?” Tobin asked, a slight smile on his face.
It was unnerving. Despite everything, Tobin was acting like he’d won.
And maybe he had.
Timony spoke next.
“You get to stay in power,” Timony said, her teeth gritted. “But I will be watching. So will Oneida. She keeps working for you. She’s going to be the Mutual’s main point of contact. In a year, if we keep our noses clean, the Mutual will convene a meeting to discuss full membership. In the meantime, they’re going to help us with New Destiny’s power issues.” She leaned down toward Tobin, putting her palms flat on the table and getting closer to his face. “You will play ball with them. You will say please and thank you. If you screw us over, I will end you, and gladly accept whatever consequence I’m given.”
Carriles could tell this was hard for her. He wondered what he would do, if he had to basically give his protégé’s killer a pass for the greater good. He doubted he’d handle it with the resolve Timony was showing here.
“You’re out of cards to play,” Timony said. “Either you help us here, or we blow the lid off everything you were doing. The Interstellar Union would not take kindly to discovering one of its most-lauded elected officials was running a shadow government and making executive decisions on his own.”
Tobin let out a dry, self-satisfied laugh.
“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’m glad you came around, Corin. I knew you would. You’re like me. A pragmatist.”
Timony flinched, and every muscle in her body went taut. Carriles held his breath, terrified of what she might do next.
She reached into her pocket, coming out with an ID badge. She turned it around, one side covered in patches of brown, dried blood.
“This was Slade’s,” Timony said. “Her death is on your hands. I’m beginning to think you’re incapable of caring about the damage you cause, but I hope one day the impact of her death hits you. What you did.”
She slapped the ID badge on the table.
Then there was a subtle buzz from the ID badge, and Timony’s hand shot back. She grabbed it with her other hand, like she’d been shocked. A concentrated beam of light burst from the badge. As they all watched, the light solidified.
The holographic image was static at first—black on gray. But then it came slowly to life, and Carriles felt a chill run through him as he made out not just what—but who—they were looking at.
A woman. Tan skin. A gash on her forehead. Blood streaming slowly down the side of her face. Her breathing short, labored. She was looking directly at them, but lying on the ground. Carriles hadn’t seen that many people on death’s door, but he was certain this woman didn’t have much time left.
“Slade,” Timony said, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Timony . . . Corin . . . if you’re worth your salt, and if you find my dead-ass body, you’ll know to grab my badge . . .” She started coughing violently, wincing at each movement. “Don’t . . . don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll cut to it.”
Another series of coughs. Wet. Bloody. The noise of New Destiny around her. Timony and Carriles moved in closer to hear better.
“Tobin set me up, okay? He told me to kill you, and when I told him I wasn’t going to go through with it, he double-crossed me,” Slade continued. “It wasn’t the Russians. It wasn’t the Chinese. It was him. Him and Delmar and Sandwyn. And god help me . . . I agreed to help.”
Her eyes closed, as if she’d fallen asleep—for a second, Carriles thought Slade was dead, but then her eyes fluttered open again, a look of surprise on her face—like someone waking from a nightmare.
“No matter what Tobin says to you, believe this: Adan was pushing back. He got cold feet. Realized what a shitshow it all was. He tried to stop it. He was good, Corin. That’s why he died. Why he was killed. Tobin and Delmar made the call. They had him dosed. I found out a month ago. I should have told you. I didn’t. I’ll never get the chance to make that up to you.”
More coughing, a streak of blood in the corner of her mouth. Slade wiped it away before continuing.
“I hope you find peace. I hope you find a little vengeance first, though. Guess you’re the best now. With me dead, it’s an open road to the top.” Her eyes fluttered. “You’re a good spy, T. But you were a better friend.”
And then she was gone.
The image lingered—of Slade’s face, as if she’d fallen asleep—then flickered off without ceremony. The conference room was quiet except for the sound of Tobin’s labored breathing. But not for long.
“You killed him,” Timony said, the words so low they were almost imperceptible.
But Carriles was close enough to hear the godlike level of anger in them.
She leapt forward and grabbed Tobin by the shirt collar, pulling him toward her. Timony yanked a blaster from some hidden holster in her coat and pressed the barrel to Tobin’s sweat-coated forehead. “You killed Adan. You piece of sh—”
“No, please, don’t—listen to me, you can’t trust what she was saying,” Tobin said, his words pouring out of him desperately. The grin was gone. The steely reserve evaporated. He was scared now. “I didn’t have Slade killed. I didn’t order Adan killed. That was all Delmar—I was just trying to make the best of a bad situation—you can’t . . .”
Timony pressed the gun harder to his temple.
Carriles shot another glance at Oneida, who was still in her spot—on the far wall, looking on.
And he remembered they were being judged.
“Tell me the truth, Tobin,” Timony said, crouching down, the barrel pointed squarely on his forehead now, their faces close. “Tell me the truth if it’s the last thing you do, okay? I don’t want to kill you without you having a clear conscience.”
“No, no, please, I—”
Carriles knew Tobin still had a role to play. But he also understood that this one moment could destroy every ounce of goodwill they’d struggled to broker with the Mutual.
He knew that Timony’s grief and rage were like a slumbering volcano. But volcanoes wake up at the worst possible times.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Timony’s shoulder. He didn’t pull her back. He didn’t say anything. He just wanted her to know he was there.
That she wasn’t alone.
She turned slightly. Gun still on Tobin’s forehead. Her eyes on Carriles.
“He’s not worth it,” Carriles said.
Carriles watched Timony’s face. Watched it contort from steel-hard to broken, her muscles fighting back the tears, her eyes and mouth wincing against the feelings she couldn’t bury anymore.
“Adan . . .” she said, looking back at Tobin—her sadness back to rage for a second. She turned back to Carriles.
“Adan was a good man,” Carriles said, his hand still on Timony’s shoulder. He crouched down, to be with her at eye level. Inches away from each other. “He wouldn’t want you to do this, either. To throw everything away. Don’t do it for vengeance. Do what’s right for the rest of us. Do it for yourself.”
A few seconds passed. Timony and Carriles’s gazes locked on each other, the only sound Tobin’s belabored, moaning breaths and the ticking of a distant clock.
Then Timony placed the blaster back in her coat.
“New deal,” she said, leaning toward Tobin, who pushed himself back in the chair, trying to create distance between them. “You go in there, you make this deal happen. And you retire. Give Oneida your seat, as a sign of goodwill to the Mutual. If you don’t”—she gestured toward the ID card—“that video goes out to every inbox in this city.”
Tobin nodded in response. Quickly, desperately.
Defeated.
Before Carriles could say anything else, he felt his entire body being pushed back as Timony leaned into him, her face hot against his, streaked with tears. She buried herself in his shoulder—the sobs short but strong—the tears of someone who didn’t cry often, who didn’t allow herself much time to feel anything but what she was paid to feel.
Carriles wrapped his arms around her.
Without looking up, he felt Oneida step closer to them. Felt her shadow looming over them.
They both looked up, Timony wiping at her eyes. Carriles didn’t dare look at Tobin. Afraid of his own rage. Afraid of the damage he would do to this man who’d destroyed so much in his own twisted quest for power. Carriles and Timony pulled away from each other as Oneida spoke.
“So I’m a senator now?” Oneida asked.
Carriles smiled. “That work for you?”
“Not ideal, and I may have to look among our ranks for a more permanent replacement, but the Mutual will see it as a powerful peace offering,” she said. Then she turned to Timony. “You showed great restraint.”
“If I’d killed him, would I have fucked everything up?” she asked.
Oneida slowly nodded her head.
Timony leaned down to Tobin one last time, and raised her fist. Carriles watched Tobin wince, eyes shut tight, as he waited for the punch to land. Instead, there was a loud bang. Timony pulled her fist back from the table and backed up a few paces, her good hand rubbing the knuckles that had slammed the table a few inches from Tobin’s traitorous body.
Then Timony stormed out.
Carriles and Oneida shared a glance. The alien woman looked almost relieved. Carriles wondered if he should let Timony go, let her be alone with her anger and regrets. He knew what that was like. But he also realized he’d left her alone for too long.
He gave Oneida a slight shrug as he followed Timony through the door.
Whatever happened next was out of his hands, anyway.
Better to be there for his friend.