The String Conspiracy: A Witty Science Fiction Thriller (Resonance Book 1) by Candace Freilich

Author:Candace Freilich [Freilich, Candace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rhea Press
Published: 2023-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-two

Zahira

Zahira tightened her fists in Grandmother’s satin skirt. Everything about the scene told her it was too late. The pallor in the woman’s skin. The coolness of her arm. The way she felt more like a wax model than a person, painted with purple and gray undertones instead of rich brown and pink. Grandmother had warned her this would happen. That a lonely death in an interrogation room was the most likely end to a lifetime of running.

She clenched her fists tighter and resisted the urge to topple the nearest stack of crates. This was why they’d hatched their plan to escape. Why they’d spent years tracking down equipment and fake IDs and building up off-planet bank accounts. But now Grandmother laid cold on an icy steel table. Purple blotched her arms and cheeks, and her tight black ringlets lay askew.

A towering creature hissed from an enclosure behind Zahira, taunting her as she checked again for a pulse. Pekke had been right about the Boliska. They trafficked in more than hatari, and their merchandise watched from mere meters away. The hisser was a bird-like reptile, covered in red and orange poofs of feathers that hid dark green scales. An adjacent pen held a second beast, broader and four-legged beast with a bony frill. Their stench was overpowering, but she ignored it to hold her transcom to Grandmother’s nose. No wisps of breath on the screen. No heartbeat nor rise to her diaphragm.

A bubbled drop of liquid lay just beside Grandmother’s arm, with a matching needle mark on the inside of her elbow. If the truth serum had been painful, Grandmother’s face showed no signs of it. The wrinkles had softened around her eyes, and her jaw held none of the tension, none of the worry, she’d had in life. Or at least in the life she’d had with Zahira.

A hand clasped her shoulder. “It was a pulmonary embolism.” The stranger’s voice was both soft and hollow. “A clot in her lungs. We’d have taken precautions if we’d known, but her files didn’t list a clotting disorder.” And of course they wouldn’t have. She and Grandmother had avoided hospitals and their databases at all costs.

Zahira shoved the woman’s hand off her shoulder, only to find a blade pressed to her neck.

“Such a waste, really. She could have had another five, maybe ten years with the right treatment.” The blade dug a hair deeper, but didn’t break the skin. “Instead, she had you.”

Zahira searched the room for a way to break free, some strategy to channel her hate. But useless cargo filled half the space, metal crates that glowed like incubators and wooden boxes that appeared packed with straw. All belonging to the Boliska. Smugglers and murderers.

“Let her go.” Pekke’s voice rang from somewhere on Zahira’s right, near a wall of data screens.

“Do you know what she is? What she’s capable of?” The woman’s blade urged Zahira backward, but she held tight to the steel table that held Grandmother’s quiet form. She wouldn’t abandon her again.

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