Something comes over me. Maybe it’s just me imagining Tycho being held in one of these cells or maybe underneath I’m more of a cold-blooded killer than I ever realized.
I’m not sure.
I don’t care.
I kill every single one of those sexbots with a laser shot to the head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – JIMMY
I think I lose a little bit of time after I realize that Corla and Veila were never partners. Then all kinds of scenarios start running through my head. So many maybes and what ifs.
Here is what I know:
Corla and Crux met back on Wayward Station when we were teenagers. I was there that night Corla came into the dining room and wanted to speak to Crux alone about something.
I wasn’t there when she explained and I wasn’t there when Crux was told to dress up in this same uniform I’m wearing now and then led into some bizarre pre-mating ritual surrounded by the visiting Cygnian dignitaries and in-the-know Akeelians.
But he told me about it. He had no choice. He needed me to get to ALCOR.
Anyway, the point is that Corla had this crazy plan and she told him before they separated that if he ever saw her again, something had gone wrong.
Obviously something went wrong. Because we have Corla frozen in a cryopod and locked up inside a security beacon back near Harem Station. We didn’t learn that Veila and Corla were a weaponized team until Lyra filled in the blanks just before the shit show at Bull Station happened.
And I think all of us just assumed that they had escaped together. They were on the run together. And if we just could find this Veila chick, we could wake Corla up and stop worrying that one day someone would get their hands on Veila and trigger the weapon inside Corla.
We just assumed it would be that easy.
Why?
“You seem to be speechless. What did I say?” Veila asks.
“What?” I blink a few times, trying to clear away the past. She’s pouring us drinks from a fancy crystal decanter across the room. It’s only then that I actually realize where I am.
Not her throne room or whatever.
Her bedroom.
A lavish four-poster bed. Huge bed. With lots of fluffy pillows and soft flowing silver netting hanging down from the canopy. Rugs covering the metal floors. Nice rugs. A small work station in the corner with a screen. And art on the walls too. Erotic pictures of people fucking.
“Oh, shit,” I say. Because I’m starting to realize what’s happening.
She smiles as she walks towards me, holding out my drink. I shake my head no, refusing her offer. “You sure?” she asks, laughing a little. “You’re really gonna need it.”
I shake my head again. Trying to make the all the missing puzzle pieces fit together. I know she’s going to do that for me any minute now—that’s the whole reason she brought me here. But for some reason I feel the need to figure it out on my own.
I just…can’t quite get there.
“Shame,” Veila says. “I was hoping we could make a toast.”
I shake my head one more time. In complete denial now.
“OK, then,” she says. She takes a sip of her drink, a very small sip, then sets the glass down on a nearby table and folds her hands in front of her. Smiles at me. “Should we get on with it?”
“Get on with what?” And even though I try my best not to glance at the bed, I glance at the fuckin’ bed.
She makes one of those half laugh, half huff noises. “You know what, Jimmy. You know why you’re here.” She takes two steps towards me and I take two steps back. “Oh, come on now. I won’t bite you.” She whispers that last part. “All you need do is touch me and then we’ll know, won’t we?”
“No,” I say. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I already know.”
She tilts her head at me. One of those confused looks. And normally I’d get a little thrill at this confusion. Because it actually looks genuine. “You already know what?”
“It’s not you,” I say, backing up another few steps. “You’re not her. I already know who my one is and it’s not you.”
“What?” Then something must click for her because she guffaws loudly, her head tilting back so her amusement can flow up and out easily and echo off the high metal ceilings. “Oh, no. Oh, this is priceless. You didn’t think that… Oh.” She laughs again. “Jimmy. Please. You didn’t think that Delphi was your one, did you?”
“She is my one. We’ve already sealed the deal, Veila. You and I”—I do this little back-and-forth thing with my index finger, indicating me and her—“we are not a thing.”
“Oh, this is too much. I send my niece out to get you and—”
“Your niece?”
“She didn’t tell you?”