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KARA COULD HEAR Tarsk pacing in a room nearby. Zeph and Maktin had escorted them to a less populated area, not back to the rooms they’d occupied before, and had separated them, placing Tarsk and Daku in one room, and Isra and her in the other. Daku hadn’t been happy, but he’d held his tongue, and he was right—they didn’t need to antagonise these people. Zeph had been withdrawn the whole time, clearly still torn over having to lock Tarsk away, but that was to their benefit. If they had value, the FPC would them alive.
Tarsk’s pacing continued, the swish of his tail loud as it thumped against a wall. With her augments, she could hear Tarsk and Daku, but unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to hear her, or Isra, in return, unless they yelled, and that would do no good. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need to break out, for although they were in a bedroom, the locked door made it a cell.
“Are you all right?” Isra asked softly, picking up on Kara’s tension.
Kara sank down on one of the single the beds, clasping her hands together. She stared down at them as she considered the question. In the past hour, she’d been outed as a bio-cyber, cursed by her own brother, and then been locked up. Shouldn’t the panic be closing in on her now? Yet it wasn’t. Her hands didn’t shake, her mind was clear and her priorities hadn’t shifted. Tarsk was revealing more anxiety than she was with his incessant pacing. But maybe he thought she was about to go off the deep end, too.
She looked up at Isra and faintly smiled. “Strangely, despite everything, I think I actually am.” She cocked her head to the side. “You don’t seem surprised by my actions, though. Not even when I’ve become emotional—volatile—these past weeks.”
Isra tipped her head back against the bulkhead and kept her voice low, always conscious of the threat of being overheard. “I always knew the time would come when your emotions and memories merged again. I trusted you would adjust, and you did.”
“You knew it wasn’t permanent? But you made me feel like it would be, that I would be confined to an emotionless world.” Kara stared at her, wanting to say more, ask specifics, but knowing she couldn’t risk anyone else hearing them.
“You were barely more than a child, unable to deal with what had happed, close to death, even by your own hand. But I knew the years would teach you otherwise, and your emotions were never taken from you. You suppressed them just as much as they did.”
Kara blinked. Had the Sword and Shield truly not removed her emotions, as she’d thought? Had she closed herself off all these years, as a punishment for surviving when her family hadn’t; for becoming something her mother would have abhorred?
“I told you at the time, I didn’t need a weapon or an automaton. I needed someone who could think, who would defend others, even at great risk to herself. Someone who would truly care for the fate of those left out. And you’ve proven your worth, time and again.” Isra sat down on the bed opposite and reached out, clasping Kara’s hands between her own. “But you’ve had to believe and trust in your own worth, outside what I, or any of the others, might say.”
Random memories swirled through Kara’s mind, snippets of conversations, brief bursts of action, quiet interludes, and long hours spent carrying out the Elites missions. All these years she’d followed orders, thinking that the emotionless shell she’d become would be her reality—that she would be forever confined and constricted. She had been calmly acceptant of her place, to the point she hadn’t understood Tarsk’s concerns. But she had been pragmatic; either she became emotionless and reliable, or she would have no place in the Elites, and no place in the Empire. To her, the choice had been between existing or dying, and she’d made it, and never looked back. Yet Isra had just shaken everything she thought she knew; all the parameters Kara had operated under since swearing loyalty to Queen Samorn and becoming the Shadow.
Her hands convulsed in Isra’s grip. She met her compassionate stare, her mouth working but no sound coming out.
Isra squeezed her hands, the gloves soft against her skin. “Why do you think I let you continue to operate after you left Outpost 7JZ? I could have had Tarsk bring you in and easily, you were unconscious at one point, after all.” She gave a faintly chiding look. “Your actions may have been rash, but that is hardly surprising considering you were dealing with strong emotions for the first time in years.”
“I caused this.” Kara jerked her head around, encompassing the ship, Isra’s flight from the Empire, Daku’s court-martial. “If I hadn’t been so rash, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“To use a favourite expression of Tarsk’s, ‘tsk’. Yes, the circumstances weren’t the best, and your run-in with that bio-cyber was unfortunate, but better we connected the events then, than being blindsided later. We are here now, and that’s what we have to deal with. You know your actions are not the only ones that have culminated with us being locked in this room.” Isra glanced at the door, her eyes distant.
Kara recalled Isra’s confession on board the Brognan about Draldens threatening her mother and her. She flicked her eyes around the room, but she hadn’t been able to identify any audio or video surveillance, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something there. She moved closer to Isra, dropping her voice even more. “Do you think it’s the Drald Triad behind this, or could it be that group you encountered before?”
Isra was already shaking her head. “No, it’s not that group.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Isra stared down at their hands silently, before finally answering. “Because they’re dead.”
Kara swallowed, wishing the answer could have been neater, and wishing she could ask Isra exactly why those Draldens had attempted to attack Isra and her mother, but now was not a safe time to ask such sensitive questions. “Does this make it more likely that it’s the actual Drald Triad behind the Dark Raiders?”
“Possibly.” Isra paused, frowning. “It might be another group is trying to destabilise the Empire for their own personal gain, but I could say the same of the Triad. They may be behind it for the same reasons; resources and power.”
“If it is the Triad, what can we do? Starting a war...would be disastrous and we have no guarantee we’ll win.” Dealing with a traitor was one thing, starting a war with a technologically advanced race, another. The Empire would be viewed as the aggressor, and they’d lose their allies. They couldn’t risk outright antagonising them. But neither could they let them go operating unchecked within the Empire’s borders.
She shifted restlessly, and rose, before aborting the movement and sinking back to the bed. “I need to contact home. I have to find out what’s happening.”
“We’ll leave here soon enough.” Kara sighed. “Knowing Arlen is alive—I almost can’t believe it.” She shook her head. If he didn’t look so much like their father, she might not have accepted it. “As much as I’d love to stay here with him, I know that’s not feasible. We just have to endure their mistrust a little longer, then we’ll be out of these cells and on our way back to Imperial space. We can’t risk taking any unnecessary actions any sooner.”
“Do not be so sure they’ll release us. Not after meeting their leader.” Isra’s hands tightened into fists, her lips thinned. “They could still be behind this all.”
Kara turned the meeting over in her mind, the leader’s actions, his words. She’d noticed they’d not given his name, but that she could understand. There’d been no love between the Dark Zone and the Empire for a long time. Isra had been incredibly quiet too, almost tense with nerves, which was unlike her. Yet, despite all that, there was nothing that stood out to her that would indicate that this leader had anything to do with the unrest in the Empire. Except Isra was now worried.
“Why would you say that?” Kara searched her eyes, seeking an answer, but all she saw was weariness and a fleeting sadness.
Isra seemed reluctant to speak, the words dragged from her. “Their leader is Dralden.”
Kara’s mouth dropped open before she caught herself. “He looked human...” She trailed off, thinking about how androgynous and thin he’d been, the pale scars on his body. She should know about modifications, more so than others. Would it be possible to have enough surgery to make you appear that different? And if so, why wouldn’t he have tried to look more average? “How can you be so sure?” She pierced Isra with a steady stare.
Isra worked her jaw like she was trying to suppress the knowledge. Kara almost thought she wouldn’t reply. “Not all Draldens are so homogenous and starkly androgynous. Every now and then, there are those born with...variations...sometimes the Collective accepts them. Other times, when the differences are too much, they are discarded, cast-out. I believe he is one of them.”
Kara jerked back in shock. They’d just accused the Draldens of being behind the Dark Raiders, and yet a Dralden led these FPC, if Isra was right.
“Now do you see why I need to contact home?” Every line of Isra’s body was tight, on edge, her eyes intense.
As much as Kara wanted to go straight to the Brognan, she couldn’t. Not while under guard. “Right now, if either of us puts even a toe outside of this room, they’ll know. They know I’m a bio-cyber. I don’t have that element of surprise and I won’t put us at greater risk.” Isra should know this. The fact she was so adamant to make contact was another sign of how stressed and worried she’d become, pushing her towards rash, poorly thought out decisions.
“We don’t have time—”
Kara held up her hand, stopping Isra abruptly mid-sentence. “Zeph is speaking to Tarsk.” She cocked her head to the side, listening, while Isra watched her, her tension palpable. As they continued to speak, Kara relayed the gist of the conversation to Isra. “Zeph wants Tarsk to operate on Calli. Apparently the leader has given permission for that. But bless Tarsk, and his stubborn, theatrical hide, he’s kicking up a stink at being held captive.” Her lips quirked as Tarsk’s voice became louder. “He’s just declared that he couldn’t possibly perform such a complex surgery safely while he worried over his friends’ fate, and that Zeph couldn’t possibly want to have any chance of harm coming to Calli. He’s laying the guilt on quite thick.”
She paused and tensed, giving an instinctive shake of her head in rejection of Tarsk’s sudden, serious declaration.
“What?” Isra sat up straight.
“Tarsk just offered to remain here, on the condition that they release the rest of us and assure us safe passage back to Imperial space.”
Kara’s heart lurched. She couldn’t leave him behind. They needed him. But her analytical and pragmatic mind kicked in, and she knew that if the leader of the FPC agreed to this, then it would be the most sensible course of action. For all that Tarsk was a doctor, he was also a highly trained operative. He could handle himself. His skills were too valuable for the FPC to risk harming him, so he would be safe. At least until he could find an escape route of his own.
Their primary mission was to keep Isra safe and, by now, they would have lost anyone that might have been tracking them. They could re-enter the Jade Zone, under a different callsign, and travel almost unnoticed. Tarsk was simply leveraging an opportunity to ensure Isra’s identity remained hidden and her safety secured. As much as she wanted to reject the very idea of his deal, she knew she couldn’t; it was their best bet of getting safely off this mothership.
“Did he accept?” Isra asked. Some of the tension had eased from her as she appeared to control her own emotions.
“Zeph has gone to discuss it with the others.”
They both turned their head as the heavy tread of a person passed by their own door.
Kara bowed her head, knowing she had to accept Tarsk’s decision. Soon they would have to act, but for now she could mourn the separation. She only hoped it wouldn’t be a permanent one.