Erelah rounded the corner to the flight lab, Adan a half-step behind. What chaos she had imagined on the brief walk over did little to prepare her for the all-out cannibalization that greeted her. Myrna, one of the team’s two other civilian consultants, stood off to the side, her arms crossed. There was no sign of the remaining four team members.
Tilley’s small pale face was pinched with distress beneath her tightly clipped hair. The waif-like girl rushed up to Erelah, speaking quickly. “I am not authorized to stop them, Consultant Veradin. My apologies.”
Erelah glanced at the young tech’s frightened expression and turned to regard the lab. “It’s alright. I’ll find out what’s happening.”
A flock of technicians, jumpsuits emblazoned with the unmistakable bright red Ravstar icon high on their sleeves, had infested the lab. As one pulled dataclips from a compbank, another physically removed the circuit boards. One unceremoniously dumped highly sensitive calibration equipment into a crate.
“What in Miri’s name are you doing?” Erelah called out.
When none of the techs acknowledged her, she glanced at Adan. His buoyant personality was now gone. Any giddiness from dinner evaporated. His face pinched with anger. But,
oddly, he said nothing.
“I’m talking to you.”
Erelah grabbed the elbow of the closest tech. The young man frowned down at her hand and then up at her as if she bore some type of contaminant. She realized she had never seen this technician before.
“Orders. All project materials are to be removed.”
He pulled his arm from her grasp and returned to his task.
“What order? This wasn’t cleared by me. Who gave it?” she demanded, pursuing him as closely as she dared. This tech did not resemble the meek, subservient variety that she often encountered on the NeuTech base. He was tall, firmly built and vaguely hostile.
“Erelah. Leave it alone.” Adan put a hand on her elbow. There was an odd caution to his voice.
Leave it alone? How could he say that?
They were ripping apart two years of careful, intense work after their team’s undeniable success this morning. How could he not be furious as well? It made no sense. She turned back to the tech, anger refreshed.
“Who gave the order?” Erelah asked, barring the nameless tech’s way, a move she would not ordinarily consider, but at least he stopped.
“You know who. Defensor Tristic.”
The tech sidestepped her and returned to his task without a second glance.
“Defensor Tristic?”
There was no reply.
Adan tugged her back to the door. He leaned in against her. “It’s not worth it. Not when she’s
involved.”
Adan’s features pulled into pensive, worried lines.
“You can’t be serious.”
Not Adan, too. He couldn’t possibly buy into the tall tales about the seldom-seen commander of Ravstar, the overseeing
division of NeuTech. As far as Erelah was concerned, Defensor Tristic was a rubber-stamped name on reports and communications. For all she cared or knew, she was some detached bureaucrat that seldom took an interest in under-resourced projects at the frayed edges of nowhere—like their installation.
She had heard the stories when she first came to the station: Tristic was a Sceeloid half-breed, functioning with seeming impunity on behalf of the Council of First. But she had always thought they were just that, stories. Now, something in Adan’s expression told her otherwise.
“This is ridiculous,” Erelah said. “Tristic has no right to come in and just take what’s ours.”
“She does. And she can.” He shook his head. “It never belonged to us, Erelah. This all belongs to NeuTech. NeuTech belongs to Ravstar. Ravstar has the final word.”
“Truly? And I’m also to believe children’s tales about some Sceeloid mongrel—”
“Quiet!” Adan pushed her into the corridor. Surprised, she stumbled against the wall.
He shut the door to the lab. “Be careful, Erelah!”
“Careful?”
“Tristic has eyes and ears everywhere,” he hissed.
“You’re serious?”
Adan leaned against the jamb, arms folded as he focused on a point on the wall.
“This has to be a mistake. We just had a breakthrough.” Erelah planted her hands on her hips. Her brain worked through options and scenarios as she paced. There had to be some logical explanation behind this.
“There is no mistake when Tristic is involved. The whole reason they’re here is because of the Jocosta
’s success today,” he replied, flatly.
She stopped, mid-pace. “How’d she even find out?”
Adan squirmed, turning the motion into a shrug. He sounded as if he were reading a contract:
“All project records are subject to review.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Erelah stared at him. The tiny hairs stood up on her arms.
“This wasn’t meant to happen like this. Myrna wasn’t even supposed to be in the bloody lab. They would have seized the records and equipment. And we would have moved on to the next project.”
“You told Tristic! Why? You knew we still had more work to do. There’s the velo field instability, the possibility of chrono-slip. Any one of a thousand things could still go wrong—”
“Ravstar expects results. That’s how this works, Erelah,” said Adan. “This isn’t one of your damned Kindred society functions. There are no polite rules. Defensor Tristic isn’t some functionary with an empty title.”
“Someone has to go to the Defensor. This is ridiculous. She has to understand that this is a mistake. That we need more time.”
Adan gave a curt laugh. “A novel idea.”
“I’ll go. Tonight, before they destroy the whole lab,” Erelah said. “Come with me.”
“You don’t get how this works.” He gaped at her. “Your uncle really did lock you away from the Worlds, didn’t he? This is no place for a naive girl. You should have gone off to the convent, little priestess. It would have been far safer for you to stay on Argos.”
Erelah glared at him. Oh, Uncle. How right you were about these people.
“Perhaps you are right, Adan,” she replied, lifting her chin. “This is not my place, but it’s the life I have chosen. And this is the right thing to do.”
Drawing her shoulders back, she turned on her heel. Despite her movements, a vague tremor began in her knees. It
was as if Adan’s apprehension were contagious.
She was already striding to the level riser when Adan rushed to catch up.
“Erelah, stop! You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t confront Tristic.”
“I’m simply going to talk to her. Try to make her understand.”
She held his gaze. As if on a dare, she pressed the button, calling for the command tier. The doors opened promptly.
“Erelah. I’m begging you. Don’t.” He put a hand inside the closing door, trying to bar the lift from leaving.
“I’ll come right back.” Gently, but firmly, she removed his hand from the doorframe. “Promise.”
The doors closed. Erelah never saw Adan Titus again.
“Wait here.”
That was all the pinched-faced attendant said before disappearing into the darker recesses of the command tier. The entire level apparently belonged to Tristic. An opulent allowance for anyone with the rank of Defensor.
As she stood there, Erelah resisted the urge to tug at the cuffs of her jacket. The high collar pinched at the neck. The material was too new. Smelling of synthetic materials and esters, it itched fiercely.
She was awful at waiting. Even as a child she would fidget and sway on her feet and think of the endless tick of seconds that she could be using elsewhere.
Count to ten. Breathe. Just like Uncle used to teach us.
Uncle had warned us, hadn’t he?
She had been unprepared for the bureaucracy of NeuTech, but not entirely surprised, considering Uncle’s long-winded rants during supper in the great echoing hall of their home. His
tirades had worsened when Jon ran away to join the Regime. Her brother’s departure seemed to weaken the towering Helio Veradin. His ensuing illness was little surprise to Erelah or to the servants that remained.
That was long ago. And Tristic was not Uncle, although probably just as aloof and secluded.
The stories claimed Tristic was the product of experimentation from a time before genetics tampering was commonplace. To further understand and control the enemy Sceeloid, hybridization experiments were sanctioned with Eugenes subjects. And as the only success, Tristic had been permitted to live. However, seeing a hybrid rise to the title of Defensor was impressive and a clear testament to this odd being’s talents. The gossip claimed she was nearly preternaturally intelligent and, understandably, fixated in her hatred of the Sceeloid.
They say she can read your mind. See the color of your emotions. She knows truth from lies by just gazing upon you…
Erelah gave a strange, nervous giggle. Even someone as well-educated and savvy as Adan Titus was convinced by these rumors. Ridiculous. If she were to believe such stories, she might as well find a more imaginative one. Perhaps Tristic ate people as well, like Sceelo, the great dragon of myth.
“The Defensor will see you, Lady Veradin.”
She knew that voice and cringed internally as she turned. Lieutenant Maynard had crept into the room behind her. His hands were folded behind his back as he stood over the Ravstar emblem set into the high gloss of the floor.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Erelah kept her expression blank, hiding her revulsion.
He nodded to her slightly, respect absent. She received the distinct impression he was very aware of the image he presented in his prissy special ops uniform that she secretly detested. Certainly, he reveled in his role as the Defensor’s
new second. No one had dared to speculate on what had become of the former aide.
Since Maynard’s assignment to the installation, Erelah had interacted with him only twice before. There was something that struck her as simply off
about him. Perhaps it was the way he watched everything with his dark little eyes, or his constant smoothing of his own uniform as if to call attention to his special rank.
On their second encounter, he had cornered her in the officer’s lounge, being so bold as to invite her to share down time in one of those disgusting chambers they called rec suites. Erelah had burst into laughter. At the time she had honestly thought he was joking. This odd little man was asking her to…
She smirked. Maynard’s expression soured, seeming to guess the course of her thoughts. For the moment her anxiety was forgotten as she followed him into the adjoining chamber where Tristic waited.
