A Time for Endings
Ragana’s scream punched through Simonee’s pain and she rolled. Mason jutted from the wall—face stretched wide, mouth open, nothing coming out. His arms jerked at the elbow, his legs spasmed, and where the metal held him the skin pulled and split. Blood came down in sheets.
A shout echoed faintly from the corridor outside. “Take them out!” The wall sputtered and plinked.
“George!” Ragana leapt to him, hands on his face.
She kissed his limp lips. “My dear boy, what have they done to you.”
Below him, a grey tube—silver ring at one end—sat in the blood pooling on the floor.
Karalius stepped between Ragana and Dalia. “It seems you’ve lost your heir, sister.”
Ragana stiffened and spun. “I can always make more. But you won’t live to get in my way!”
She screeched and leapt—her blade in hand, catching the dim light. He caught her around the waist and shoved her back—but his forearm was already open, a dark line dripping—and she landed in a crouch like she’d planned it. She pounced again.
A blade appeared in his hand—black, serrated. He charged and Ragana parried. Karalius swung wide and hard—Ragana slid around it, quick for someone her age, and came back with something small and precise. He was stronger. She was faster.
Icicles throbbed around the hole in her shoulder. Blood soaked her hoodie, pooled on the floor. She could bleed out right here and no one could do a thing about it.
She rolled back to Dalia, tugging on her sleeve, shouting—it came free. The hole went clean through. She bit into her sweater and poked the sleeve into the hole. She screamed into the thick fabric.
Dalia swam in front of her—the blur had gotten worse. Dalia shook her head. “I’m so sorry, I should never have—”
She put up her good hand, squeezed her eyes shut. Breathed. “Make it up to me after we get you out of here, okay?”
Blades clinked behind her as she tried to roll up, tried to sit. The pain filled her head with stars. But she got her legs crossed underneath, took another breath and stood—stumbled—reached for the brass knuckles covered in her blood. Almost collapsed.
But she had them in her hand and stumbled to Dalia. She could barely see through the blur now, and the pain built a dark tunnel around her vision. Heat maps flickered and faded, numbers stuttering before the overlay cut out.
Her legs folded on their own; knees hit the floor. Forehead on Dalia’s leg. Breathed. Her good hand found the zip-ties and she sawed.
The spikes weren’t the best tool for the job, but one by one they snapped loose. She could barely see them, she wouldn’t get them all, but if she could just get—
Snap—Dalia yanked her arm free and slid the knuckles off Simonee’s hand.
In front of them the battle raged on, but Karalius seemed slower now. What if Ragana won?
Her implant flashed STANDBY MODE: POWER INTERRUPTED.
Dark. The floor came up to meet her. Dalia’s voice. Her name—muffled, far away. Light came back. Dalia was on her feet, watching the fight.
“Dalia...” Her voice came out quiet, but Dalia looked. “Run.”
Dalia shook her head. “Not again.”
And the world stayed black.
Simonee’s eyes closed but she was breathing, so Dalia turned back to the melee. Her father had stumbled—she’d missed how—but there was blood on his leg. Then his hand clasped around Ragana’s throat, fingers wide against her narrow neck, and Dalia’s chest locked.
He squeezed—then the breath he sucked in didn’t sound right. His hand fell open. When he turned, something jutted from between his ribs. The blade. Broken off at the handle. The handle still in her hand. Her eyes widened—hungry—and her mouth split into something feral, not a smile, teeth flashing as she knocked away his hands.
Blood pulsed from the wound and she was moving before she knew it—on her knees, his head in her lap. Something rumbled in her chest, then wailed out of her.
Karalius gasped short breaths as she caressed his head.
“Daddy, don’t go.” Dalia wept. “I’m sorry. I did this to you. I just wanted the truth.”
“No, princess, I should have told you everything, no matter how much it hurt. I should have always trusted you. We should have been in this together from the beginning.” He coughed, blood sprayed and dripped from his lips. “Now... go! She won’t let you live.”
His breathing stuttered, wheezing and his eyes grew round with panic and went still. One last breath passed between them.
Ragana’s panting was behind her before she heard the words. Blood dripped from the hilt in her hand.
“It’s better this way child.” She gasped. “I have control of the station now, but you can stay. Let me teach you—”
Ragana turned back to her son. “—like a daughter. We’ll build the Ledas name back to its former glory—you’ll grow into the matriarch of an empire. My father’s dream, and mine.”
Dalia wrapped herself over her father, let the burn come, let her chest shake once more. She passed her hand over his eyes, kissed their lids and whispered, “I get it now, father. I know what I have to do.”
She laid him flat—arms crossed—and stood. She didn’t look at Ragana as she walked past and stopped at the cryopod.
“What are you doing?” Ragana croaked behind her.
Dalia rested her hand the pod and fingered the controls, turned the timer. “The Ledas Legacy ends with me. There will be no more heirs.”
She pressed the big red button and stepped back. Beep... Beep... Beep—the charge sounded the time.
“Foolish girl!” Ragana rushed forward, but Dalia reached out and jammed her father’s blade under Ragana’s breastbone. Blood spurted, flowing hot over her hand. Ragana gasped and stumbled.
She turned to Dalia, her eyes wet, hunting, breath halting. The charge beeped the countdown, the cadence quickening as the seconds ticked down. Ragana, lurched, clutching the cart. “No! This my father’s station! Only a Ledas can control the ice trade.”
She coughed crimson splatter over the pod, foamy around her lips. The knobs slipped between her bloody fingers.
Dalia stepped over to Simonee as the beeps came faster. “No, Ragana, there are other ways. My legacy will be to figure them out. It is time for other names to carry the future.”
Beeeeeeep—Ragana yanked on the incinerator. It went off—burning through her hands, flaring over her face, setting her pant-suit ablaze. She collapsed to the floor, all hiss and flame. Her screams died to a gurgle and went silent, still smoldering on the deck. The smell hit her—ash and something that turned her stomach. Roast pork.
The pops and tinks against the wall slowed, stopped. She turned.
And collapsed beside Simonee, pulling her up into her arms.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how this could have ended any other way. You didn’t deserve any of it, Simonee. My dearest friend. And now… you have to leave.”
Simonee looked up at her, one eye half-closed, the other dark—no violet glow. “No… you don’t have to...”
“I know.” Her voice broke on it. “But I am the governor now.” She glanced at her father, then back. “He told me these people might love me—not own me, not fear me. Love me. I hated him for this loneliness, but I think I finally understand it.”
She kissed Simonee on the temple. “So, Simonee Saran, my friend, my love, I am dissolving your contract as my security advisor, and hereby banish you from Enceladus Station indefinitely. I’ll get you our best doctors, but when you’re healed, you have to leave.”
Simonee’s head shook weakly, and Dalia buried her face against hers. “And I won’t be there to say goodbye.”
They burst through the rear hatch and stopped. Mason was in the wall—stuck, merged—and something on the floor was still smoldering, still smelling, and it took him a second to realize it was Ragana. Dalia was also on the floor, covered in blood, Simonee against her.
Mariem ran to Simonee. Tim kneeled by the interferometer on the floor.
“What the hell happened?” Mariem yelled, kneeling beside them.
“It’s okay, Mariem,” Simonee croaked.
“She took a bullet in the shoulder,” Dalia said, “She needs to get to the hospital.”
“Are you crazy? You know what they’ll do if they run blood tests.” Mariem said, lifting Simonee away from Dalia. Dalia stood, keeping a hand on Simonee’s shoulder.
“I won’t let that happen!” Dalia barked.
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’m taking her to my ship, we can take care of her there.”
Dalia’s eyes searched, jaw bulging, but she nodded. “Okay… just…” Dalia kissed Simonee’s cheek. “Take care of her. Please.”
“You can bet your skinny, blonde ass I will.” Mariem’s voice was soft, eyes on Simonee.
Simonee swung one hand up, grabbing Dalia’s arm. “Find a way, Dalia... don’t let yourself be alone. Not forever.”
Dalia peeled off her hand, but smiled, her voice quiet. “Not forever.”
Simonee’s grip failed and she went limp in Mariem’s arms.
Mariem rushed the hatch.
Turning back once, “Coming, Tim?” she asked.
He waved her off. “Nah, I’ll stay behind and cover your asses.” He pointed at Mason. “Who else is going to explain that?”
Her jaw softened and she looked him over. “Suit yourself, you know where we’re parked.” The door clanged shut.
He turned to Dalia. She wasn’t moving, but her eyes were going somewhere along the floor. Her dress was wrecked—blood, soot—and her makeup had tracked down her face in dark lines.
Bang-clack-clack—then a hiss as thermite ate at the antechamber door. Fried would be inside any minute.
Tim cleared his throat. “So... um, madam governor, what’s our story?”
Her eyes grabbed his, blue as thick ice. “The truth, where it matters.” Her voice was full, thumping his chest, her gaze made him want to look down—the princess become queen—but he didn’t, he nodded; she nodded back, and, stepping beside him, faced the door as it hissed and clanked off its hinges.
Under her breath, “I’m so tired of lying.”