Best Laid Plans

Karalius Ledas stared down a wide corridor at an unmarked hatchway. To either side, at least a dozen men and women with questionable hygiene and a penchant for leather took cover behind stacks of crates, brandishing medieval looking coil-guns—all jutting blades and neon graffiti.

Behind him, Dunham’s mercenaries had taken up positions around the corners of a T-junction and Dunham himself stood in an alcove beside him, coil-gun up.

Karalius stood in the middle of a powder keg. The slightest misstep would send magnesium slugs crisscrossing through the air with him in the cross-fire.

But there was nowhere else he could be. There was no hiding from the consequences of his actions nor the future he had wrought from them. Dalia was behind that door, and it was his fault.

“Ragana!” His voice boomed through the corridor, tinny echoes bouncing off the walls.

The door opened. A crooked silhouette stood just inside the frame—Ragana. He searched the lit spaces around her, but no Dalia.

“I have a shot, commander,” Dunham’s pink-faced commando, Sapolsky whispered over their intercoms.

Karalius held up his hand. “Steady, lieutenant,” Dunham said.

“Karalius,” Ragana croaked across the corridor. “It’s been a long time, little brother.”

“Where’s Dalia?” He called back.

“She’s safe, I assure you,” Ragana said. “But you need to come inside to be sure. I don’t trust your snipers, and we have business to discuss.”

He nodded. “I’ll come.”

“Sir, I’m obligated to warn you that this’s an awful idea,” Dunham barked.

“Understood, but I’m going in anyways,” Karalius muttered.

Dunham clicked his tongue. “I figured as much, sir. We’ve got your back, godspeed.”

“Thank you commander.”

Karalius marched steadily through the corridor with his hands held at shoulder-level. The gangsters at the doorway glanced his way, but kept their weapons trained on his commandos. The hatch clanged shut behind him.

Ragana led him into a much larger storage bay. The scene from the video—there it was. A long desk flowed out of the wall, Simonee Saran behind it. Her face gave him nothing, but her hands were tying slow knots in front of her.

And Dalia. Her mouth lifted but her gaze was hot. Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair—tendons taut, knuckles white.

Ragans gestured at the chair across from Simonee. “Sit.”

Karalius stared at Dalia, and Dalia stared back. So now you know. He thought. How long have you known?

A klang vibrated the deck at his feet. Mason shot a glance at the wall behind him.

“What was that?” Ragana spat.

“Mmmm, it came from the back corridor near the hidey-hole,” Mason said. “I’ll have a look mother, you have much to discuss with Uncle Karalius.” His lips curled and he tipped his bowler. With a flick at his waist, his coil-gun whined and he pulled a silver object from inside his coat—a simple grey cylinder with a donut at the end. He tapped at it with a gauze-wrapped hand and the air around him wobbled. He disappeared.

Karalius raised an eyebrow at his sister. “You are just full of surprises.”

She waved a hand. “We each have our heirs.”

On the desk in front of Simonee sat a tablet. She tapped the screen and it came to life, displaying a paper-white document with black text scrolling by.

Simonee pushed the tablet forward. “This document resigns your commission as governor of Enceladus Station and relinquishes control to Ragana Ledas. This tablet is equipped with a DNA profiler and will require a sample of your blood after you have applied your signature and authorization code, as per the bylaws of the Enceladus Station charter written by Stato Ledas, and enforced by the common interests of the board of trustees.”

Ragana loomed over him, eyes bright with something that looked like contempt.

“You’ve been scripted well, Ms. Saran,” he muttered.

Simonee’s face didn’t change.

“Oh, Karalius,” Ragana moaned. “You couldn’t play along for five minutes?”

“Is this a game, sister?” Karalius growled. “I remember your games. The stakes were always real. I remember the losers.”

“The stakes here are real,” Ragana spat.

“I never doubted it,” he said, looking at Simonee. “Do your colleagues know that Ragana Ledas suffers no partners, only pawns?”

“Oh, little brother, it’s a bit late to start recruiting for team Karalius now,” she said, leveling a coy gaze at Simonee. “The hacker is in no danger from me, and her rewards will be bountiful.”

Karalius looked at his daughter again. The hatred on her face was plain now. He was relieved in a way that the secret was out, but now he had to face the shame of keeping it.

“I wasn’t talking about Ms. Saran.”

“Sign the document,” Ragana growled. “And no one will be hurt.”

He kept his eyes on Dalia. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have found out this way. I should have told you… so many times. But I was… I am a coward, Dalia. If I can admit that to anyone, it should be you.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Dalia hissed. “How stupid did you think I was? How long before I’d figure out the truth? Of what you and Dr. Lin did to me! I’ve felt it in my body ever since, and all you or your doctors would do is tell me it’s all in my head.”

Karalius felt that in his chest. But he nodded.

Ragana stepped closer to Dalia, her hand in a pocket. “Now, now. Your father has some paperwork to finish, dear. You can both play catch-up later.”

But Dalia’s eyes were red, a tear slid down them, her fists clenched. “Your priority has always been to this damned legacy. You wanted me to lead so you cut out the part of me that might take me away from it. You didn’t even give me a choice! What if I want to have children. From my own body! Now, is that even possible?”

“The procedure is reversible,” he snapped.

Ragana tapped the cryopod. “Then why did you do it, brother? Come now, let’s get this over with.”

Karalius eyed Ragana, the hand in her pocket. She’d planned this escalation, he knew it. But what else could he do?

His eyes met the desk. “Dalia, you had cancer.”

Something flickered across Dalia’s face. Her mouth dropped open.

Then clenched tight—teeth bared, eyes squinting. “Liar!”

Ragana looked at the ceiling. “Oh no, he’s not lying, dear.”

Dalia glanced at Ragana. “What?”

He found her eyes again. “It was the same cancer your mother had. Because Ragana gave it to you. With a virus.”

Dalia’s eyes flicked over him. Flat. Searching.

“Well, you were collateral damage, I was aiming for your mother.” Ragana chuckled.

Dalia’s eyes jumped back to Ragana, her face tightening. “What do you mean?”

Ragana leaned on her knees and looked Dalia straight in the eyes. “Oh, well, you see, I always hated your mother, dear, such a low born creature. And I couldn’t think of a more fitting way to end her and torture your father than by destroying her slowly. So I had a virus made, specially designed to attack her DNA.” She reached and brushed back a strand of Dalia’s hair. Dalia shook it away. “Ovarian cancer. That way, even if she somehow survived, she’d never bear a child to my treacherous brother again.”

“You bitch!” Dalia screeched, yanking against the zip-ties.

Dalia wrenched and hopped in the chair, but the zip-ties held, cutting into her arms.

“I believed you. I sympathized over what my father tried to do,” Dalia cried in frustration. “Now I only wish he had done a better job.”

“And this is why I suggested you be tied up for our little show.” Ragana laughed and turned to him. “It has been such a thrill, brother. I wondered whether we’d get this far without you telling her the truth, but you just couldn’t do it could you?”

Dalia turned to him too. Tears dug channels through her makeup, but the fury in her eyes hadn’t gone. “Why? Why couldn’t you just tell me? Fifteen years, father. Fifteen years you just pushed me away.”

He stood and straightened his jacket. “I always told myself I would. When Dr. Lin said you had the virus, we had to act fast. He wanted to consult you... but I cut him off—”

“Oh, spare us the regret,” Ragana moaned.

Karalius shook his head. “I didn’t want you to know your mother was murdered. I didn’t want you to carry that—to grow up hating Ragana the way I did.”

“So I grew up alone instead?” Dalia’s chest heaved. “I would have hated her, but we would have shared it. I wouldn’t have grown up hating you instead.”

He stepped forward, but Ragana pulled out a small, silver coil-gun from her jacket pocket—filigreed along the barrel with a polished wooden grip. “Ah-ah, you haven’t signed the document yet.”

She stepped behind Simonee and nudged her with the muzzle. “You, go cower in the corner, this is family business now.”

Simonee stood, hands raised, backing away from the desk. But her eyes caught his as her hands dropped to her side—one tapped her pocket. She had something.

Karalius didn’t move. His shoulders rose and he balled fists. “And if I don’t sign? A dozen guards are right outside that door. At the first sign of trouble they’ll make short work of your little army. They won’t arrest you.”

Ragana tilted her head and swung the gun behind her—at Dalia. “Or the legacy?” She aimed at the pod. “Oh, of course, you’re the sentimental one.” She aimed it back at Dalia. “I could have told you he’d choose you. Does that make you feel better now?” She chuckled.

Karalius swallowed. It was always going to play out this way.

Simonee drifted slow along the wall, nearly imperceptible. She was watching Ragana’s gun, her hand now at her side. He caught a golden glisten behind her leg.

He couldn’t let her do it with the gun on Dalia. He needed to be the target.

“Is that your game, Ragana?” He barked. “You’ll kill Dalia, then me, like you killed Jane.”

Karalius squinted at Ragana. “Like you killed Gėlė?”

Ragana’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare! I had nothing to do with her death!”

“Is that the one murder you won’t admit to? The one you can’t justify other than as pure jealousy.”

Her aim shifted. Good. The gun drifted toward him like an accusing finger. “She had apnea.” Ragana croaked.

“I was there,” biting through clenched teeth, “I watched you smother her with your pillow.”

The gun’s muzzle now stared him down. “Enough!” she screeched.

He flicked his eyes to Simonee, and she caught them. She nodded.

And moved, swift but quiet, arm reared back, golden knuckles gleaming.

Ragana jerked at the motion and turned the gun on Simonee. “You little…”

But Simonee had momentum. The sharp knuckles missed their mark, but she slammed into Ragana with her shoulder. A quiet thwump, and Simonee tumbled into a heap on the floor. The gun skittered into the corner.

“Simonee!” Dalia screeched.

He lunged, but Ragana was already behind Dalia—a curved blade at her throat. A thin red line ran down Dalia’s neck.

“Enough of this, sign the documents!” Ragana hissed.

Simonee cried out from the floor.

He put up his hands. “You win. I’ll sign. Don’t hurt her!”

Ragana just nodded at the tablet, teeth bared.

He turned to the tablet and signed in several places, then applied his thumb to the DNA reader.

“There, it’s done.” He croaked.

The wall behind Ragana wobbled; a scream filled the room.

And all hell broke loose.