18. Maryse

CHAPTER 18

MARYSE

" E xcuse me. Coming through." I squeeze between a hulking vakutan and his equally massive mate. The crowd presses in from all sides, their excitement about the upcoming race creating a suffocating wall of body heat and chatter.

The massive holoscreen flickers with pre-race stats and odds. Its blue glow bathes the plaza in ethereal light, making everyone look slightly alien. Perfect conditions for a disguised half-reaper to blend in.

A tall figure in a hooded cloak catches my eye. My heart skips, but it's just another vakutan. The collar in my hand pulses with a gentle warmth, reminding me of what I stand to lose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Imperial Hover Racing Championship will begin in thirty minutes," the announcer's voice booms across the plaza.

My father will make his appearance soon. The thought churns my stomach. I scan the crowd again, focusing on anyone Bruticus's height. There's a group of merchants, a couple of dock workers, a maintenance tech adjusting his cap-

The maintenance tech's movements are too fluid, too controlled.

My fingers brush the collar. Its steady warmth confirms what my heart already knows. But before I can move closer, a surge of people pushes between us. When they clear, the maintenance tech is gone.

"Has anyone seen a maintenance worker?" I ask the nearest spectator. "Tall guy, just went that way?"

The lizardlike being just blinks at me with all four eyes.

The holoscreen strobes with a test pattern, casting strange shadows across the plaza. Somewhere in this sea of bodies, Bruticus is hunting my father. And I'm hunting him, desperate to prevent a tragedy that will destroy us both.

A flicker of movement draws my gaze upward. Ten stories up, a cloaked figure stands at the edge of the Centauri Commerce building. The shape and height match Bruticus perfectly. My heart leaps into my throat.

The figure raises one hand, beckoning me to follow, then steps back from the ledge and vanishes.

"Wait!"

I push through the crowd, ducking under elbows and dodging shopping bags. The service entrance has to be around here somewhere. There - a maintenance door tucked between two waste disposal units.

The door squeaks as I pull it open. Stale air and the scent of machine oil fill my lungs. My footsteps echo in the narrow stairwell as I take the steps two at a time.

Ten flights later, my legs burn and my chest heaves. The roof access door stands ajar, letting in a slice of artificial sunlight. I pause to catch my breath, my fingers wrapped around the collar in my pocket. Its temperature hasn't changed - no warmer than my own skin.

The figure stands with their back to me, dark cloak rippling in the station's recycled breeze. Hope wars with doubt in my chest.

"Bruticus?"

"Not quite." The voice that answers is definitely not his.

The cloak falls away, revealing red scales that shimmer in the artificial light. A female vakutan stands before me, her golden eyes narrowed.

"Detective Vorpa Thux. Your boyfriend and I had an arrangement."

"He's not my-" The words stick in my throat. What is Bruticus to me now?

"We were working together to expose Commander Daniels's criminal enterprise."

"Criminal enterprise? My father runs station security. He keeps people safe."

"Is that what you believe?" Her scaled lips curl into something between a smile and a sneer.

"He did his best at Rakura IV. The situation was impossible."

"Impossible?" Vorpa's tail lashes. "The situation was manufactured. Your father orchestrated-"

"No. You're wrong about him." My fingers clench around Bruticus's collar. "He's a good man."

Vorpa stares at me for a long moment, her golden eyes unblinking. The air from the hvac system whips her cloak around her legs.

"Come with me if you want to know what really happened." She takes a step closer. "But know that the truth which is a lie will cause more pain than the lie which is the truth."

My hands press against my temples, trying to squeeze out the doubts that have taken root. The truth can't be worse than this uncertainty eating away at me. Can it?

"I have to know the truth, even if I wind up hating it."

Vorpa's golden eyes soften, and she inclines her head. "Follow me."

The walk to the detention center passes in a blur. Neon signs reflect off puddles from the environmental systems' condensation. The collar in my pocket grows heavier with each step.

Steel and concrete rise before us - the Alpha Centauri Detention Center. My steps falter. Why would Vorpa bring me here of all places?

"Did Bruticus get arrested?"

"No." Vorpa's scales catch the harsh lighting as she turns to face me. "We are here to speak with someone else."

The words settle like lead in my stomach. Someone else. Someone who knows what really happened at Rakura IV. Someone my father put here.

The detention center's front desk gleams with polished steel and reinforced plexiglass. Vorpa strides up to the window, her scales catching the harsh fluorescent light.

"I need to speak with Prisoner XJ7."

The clerk's fingers pause over his holoscreen. "That prisoner is restricted. No visitors by direct order of Station Commander Daniels."

"Alliance Law Enforcement." Vorpa's badge materializes in her clawed hand. The holographic seal spins, casting rainbow reflections across the clerk's face. "This prisoner has information vital to an ongoing investigation. Under Section 7 of the Alpha Centauri Treaty, you must grant me access."

My eyebrows lift. The way Vorpa's voice drops an octave, how she towers over the desk - she commands attention without raising her voice.

The clerk's adam's apple bobs. "I'll need to clear this with-"

"The treaty supersedes station authority. Or shall I contact the Alliance Council directly?"

"That won't be necessary." The clerk's fingers dance across his console. "Please wait in Room Three. The prisoner will be brought shortly."

The visiting room smells of antiseptic and recycled air. My fingers trace patterns on the scratched metal table while we wait. What could a prisoner know about Rakura IV?

The door hisses open. My breath catches.

The old woman's face is a roadmap of scars, her left eye replaced with a glowing red cybernetic implant. The same woman who threw her drink at my father in the restaurant.

"Prisoner XJ7," the guard announces.

The old woman slumps into the metal chair, chains rattling. Her cybernetic eye whirs as it focuses on me.

"What do you want?"

"Annette Halford." Vorpa's voice cuts through the tension. "We need to know what happened at Rakura IV."

The woman's organic eye widens at her real name. Her scarred hands clench into fists on the table.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Annette snaps.

"Because the truth deserves to be known," I say softly.

A bitter laugh escapes Annette's throat. "The truth? I worked for your father when he commanded the Helios Combine fleet."

My throat tightens. "During the pirate raid?"

"Raid?" She spits the word. "Your father knew exactly what would happen when he gave that order to charge. He wanted those hostages dead."

The room spins. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "That's not possible. He told me-"

"He needed them dead because one of them was going to testify. Going to expose everything."

"No." The word comes out as a whisper.

"Yes. Your precious father murdered those people to keep his secret safe."

My heart pounds against my ribs. The collar in my pocket feels like it's burning through my clothes.

"What crime?" The words scrape my throat. "What did my father do that was so awful he had to murder all those people to cover it up?"

The floor seems to tilt beneath me. Vorpa's claws steady my shoulders as my knees buckle.

"That's a lie. My father would never-"

"Every credit that passed through the slave markets came back to him." Annette's cybernetic eye whirs. "The Reapers, the pirates, the corrupt officials - all of them paid their tribute to Commander Daniels."

"No." I shake my head, trying to clear it. The antiseptic smell of the detention center burns my nostrils. "You're making this up."

"Your father built his empire on the backs of stolen lives." Her organic eye fixes on me. "I was his logistics officer. I know where every body is buried, where every credit disappeared to."

"You're lying." The words come out weak, desperate. "My father keeps people safe. He protects them."

"Like he protected those hostages on Rakura IV?" Annette's chains rattle as she leans forward. "Like he protected Bruticus's mother?"

The collar in my pocket feels like ice now. I press my hand against it, seeking comfort that doesn't come.

"You don't know anything about my father."

"I know everything about your father." Her scarred face twists. "And there's so much more you need to hear before you decide who's lying and who's telling the truth."

"I gathered evidence. Financial records, shipping manifests, surveillance footage." Annette's organic eye gleams with remembered purpose. "But when I went to Internal Affairs-"

"They dismissed you." The words taste like ash in my mouth.

"Your father had them all in his pocket. The next day, my clearance was revoked."

My fingers trace the collar in my pocket. Its metal has gone cold, like my heart.

"I contacted Rolling Stone magazine back on Earth. Old school journalism, impossible to bribe." Her cybernetic eye whirs. "The reporter agreed to meet me on Luna Station."

"But you never made it." The pieces click into place, each one a knife in my chest.

"My shuttle exploded just past the Jupiter checkpoint." Her scarred hands clench. "Next thing I knew, ten years had passed. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived at all."

The tears start slowly, then cascade down my cheeks. Each drop carries the weight of a shattered illusion. My father. My hero. A monster wearing a kind face.

"You have no proof." The words catch in my throat.

"Only the wreckage of my life." Annette's voice softens. "And the truth in your heart, telling you I'm right."

I close my eyes, but the tears keep falling. Because she is right. Every word rings with a terrible clarity that cuts through years of comfortable lies.

The collar in my pocket pulses once, warm against my fingers. Bruticus. He knew. He tried to tell me, in his own way. And I refused to listen.

Vorpa's scaled hand settles on my shoulder, warm and steady. Her touch anchors me as my world crumbles.

"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice cracking. "But it gets worse. Your father may have left the Combine, but he never stopped his trafficking ring. In fact, he's used Alpha Centauri station to expand his operation."

My stomach lurches. The collar burns against my skin, a reminder of everything pure and good I thought I had. The tears blur my vision as I look up at Vorpa. Her golden eyes shimmer with unshed tears, her scales dulled by grief.

"Commander Daniels's trafficking ring abducted my sister four years ago, and I've been searching ever since." Her claws dig slightly into my shoulder. "I don't like destroying you, Maryse, I really do not... but I need your help. Please."

The pain in her voice mirrors my own. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, feeling the smooth scales beneath her uniform. She stiffens for a moment before melting into the embrace. Her tears fall hot against my neck as mine soak into her shirt.

"I'll help you find her," I whisper. "I'll help you save them all. Every woman my father has hurt."

Because that's what honor means - not revenge, but justice. Not destruction, but healing. Bruticus taught me that, even if he didn't know it.

"We'll make this right," I say, holding Vorpa tighter. "Together."