Dark Space: Origin (14 page)

She wasn’t sure she cared. What did she have to live for? The more she found out about her past life, the less she wanted to go back to living it, and her new life was a sham. She wasn’t a nova pilot; she was a pleasure palace playgirl named Angel.
Kiddie,
the nova pilot, was her defense mechanism, hastily sewn together from the loose threads of Angel and Alara. She’d just barely been hanging onto those threads when she’d found Ethan in the brig aboard the
Defiant
. That had sent her spiraling back toward the abyss of uncertainty and self-doubt that she’d so recently crawled out of. He was the only thing she could remember clearly from her past life, and she was about to lose him, too.

“It’ll be all right,
Kiddie,
” Gina said. “Most people survive the probe.”

“Yes,” Alara agreed, “but they don’t survive being thrown out an airlock.”

“Maybe he’s not guilty of anything deserving death. If he really was coerced, maybe he’ll be found innocent.”

“Maybe,” Alara said.

They were interrupted by the sound of doors swishing open behind them. Both of them turned to see the trial room open and Captain Adan Reese come striding out, escorted by a pair of sentinels. Adan caught Alara’s eye and nodded to her. Alara stared blankly back. “What are they bringing him out for?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Gina said. “Maybe he needs the bathroom.”

“That’s a strange last request.”

“Think it would work for us to get out of these?” Gina raised her hands, still bound at the wrists with stun cords.

“Worth a shot.”

Gina called to the nearest guard, “Hoi, Corporal! I’ve got to go piss!” The guard started toward them with a frown, and Gina sent Alara a sly smile. “Kavaar!” she whispered. “It worked.”

Alara smiled wanly back, but Gina’s fooling around had done nothing to lift her spirits.

*  *  *

Destra stood staring at the man who’d been marched up to her and she shook her head. “Is this some kind of joke, Ethan?”

“It’s no joke.”

“What’s wrong?” Heston asked.

“This isn’t my son!”

The imposter stood before them, his hands bound by stun cords. Until now his brow had been curiously furrowed up to his bristly blond hair, but suddenly he seemed to realize who she was, and he took a quick step back as if someone had slapped him.

“Mom?”

“Don’t you dare call me Mom! I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my Atton! You don’t look a thing like him!”

Ethan gave a small, sad smile and said, “Atton, turn off your holoskin.”

The imposter’s features shimmered and the bristly blond hair and blue eyes of Captain Adan Reese were replaced by Atton’s dark, straight hair and green eyes. He looked like a young version of Ethan, but he had his mother’s button nose and narrow face.

Destra’s jaw dropped.

Atton smiled and took a hesitant step forward. “It’s me, Mom, see?” He grinned from ear to ear and shook his head. “I can’t believe it!”

Heston blinked. “Neither can I. Two holoskinners in one day. Like father like son apparently.”

“Atton!” Destra leapt forward and enclosed him in a fierce hug. Ethan and Hoff looked on. “I can’t believe it. I never imagined . . . oh, Atton! I thought you were dead!”

“Likewise,” Atton replied, sounding almost as choked up as her.

Ethan gave a long, shaky sigh and turned to the admiral. “What are you going to do with us?”

“Well, I can’t have you tried for your crimes, and I can’t let you go, so you tell me.”

“Maybe it will help if you let us explain our side of things.”

“I’m listening.”

Destra let go of Atton and turned to the admiral. “Get them out of these stun cords, Hoff. Whatever their crimes, they’re not dangerous.”

The admiral held her gaze for a long moment before he nodded and reached into his pocket for the electronic key. He pointed the key at Atton’s wrists first. The red light on the stun cords turned green and they fell to the floor. Then Hoff turned and did the same for Ethan.

Atton looked from Hoff to his mother and back again with eyebrows raised. Then Hoff walked up behind Destra and put a hand on her shoulder, ending Atton’s silent debate. “You two are . . .”

“Married,” Destra finished for him.

Hoff held out his hand for shaking. “I suppose that makes you my stepson.”

Atton gaped at them and shook his head.

“Would you like to meet your sister?” Destra asked.

“My
sister?
” Atton echoed.

“I know this is a lot to take in, Atton,” Destra said, reaching for his arm. “But whatever your circumstances at the moment, we should set them aside for now. This is a time to celebrate!” Atton turned to her with a blank look, and she went on, “You’re back! You’re alive! Aren’t you happy to see your mother again?”

“I . . .” Atton trailed off. Joy, shock, and anger warred for expression on his face.

Destra wiped away a final tear. “Let me go tell Atta. I can’t imagine giving her a better birthday present than this.” With that, Destra turned and walked toward a dark hallway which led away from the living room.

“Atta . . .” Atton whispered.

“Can I get you two a drink?” Heston asked.

“Beer,” Ethan managed.

“I’ll have the same,” Atton added.

“Of course,” the admiral replied, and headed toward a bar counter which stood to one side of the living room. Atton walked over to his father and sat down on the couch. “Frek, Dad,” Atton whispered. “Hoff . . .
Atta
—she replaced us!”

“Shhh,” Ethan whispered back. “Now’s not the time.”

Hoff watched them from the bar with cold, seething gray eyes, and Ethan read into that look that if it were up to him, he would have dumped them both out the nearest air lock as soon as he’d found them.

Ethan met that look with equal fury, but his anger was fast cooling into shock, leaving a numb sense of defeat in its wake. There was nothing left for him to fight for. Here Hoff was, living the life he should have had. Atton was right, they’d been replaced. All those years spent waiting for his wife, and she hadn’t waited for him. He should have felt jealous, but instead he just felt stupid. Now, he finally understood that Alara had been right: Destra would have wanted him to move on, but it was too late. Alara barely remembered him now, and the friction-filled relationship they’d had as pilot and copilot was as long gone as the beaten up freighter they’d flown.

Ethan had missed his chance for a fresh start, but Destra had seized hers the second it had come along. Atta was seven years old. He and Destra had been apart for ten. That meant she’d waited less than three years.

Three . . .

In his mind’s eye Ethan saw the
three
of them—Atton, himself, and Destra all lying on a couch in front of their fireplace to keep warm one wintry night on Roka IV. Outside, the wind whistled ferociously, driving snow against the windows. Atton crawled over them under the blankets, trying to get comfortable.

Suddenly, Tibby’s furry head popped out of the blankets, followed by a childish roar.

Ethan feigned shock, yelling out, “Ahh! Don’t eat me, Tibby!”

Atton giggled and popped up behind his stuffed diger. “Scared you!”

“Thank the Immortals you’re here, Atton!” Destra said. “Tell Tibby not to eat us!”

“No, he’s going to eat you both! Rarr!”

“Oh, no!” Destra replied. “But then you won’t have any parents. Who will look after you?”

“Tibby and me can look after ourselves!”

Ethan frowned. “That’s not nice, Atton.”

“Sit properly,” Destra added.

Atton was quiet for a long minute, and then they heard a small voice say, “Tibby didn’t mean it. He just wanted to scare you.”

“Mmm,” Destra replied, not sounding convinced. “And what about you?”

“I didn’t mean it either.”

“You know, Atton,” Ethan began, “we just have the three of us in this galaxy. We have to stick together and look after each other.”

“What about Tibby?” Atton replied.

“The three of us and Tibby,” Destra said, smiling at him and tousling his hair. “And speaking of you and Tibby, aren’t you both supposed to be in bed?”

“No.” Atton shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Dad said we have to look after each other, so we’re not leaving you alone, are we Tibby? No, he says we have to protect you from the snow monsters.”

Ethan shook himself out of the memory. His eyes found Hoff’s as the admiral walked over from the bar with a frosty mug of beer in each hand. He handed one to each of them and then went back to the bar to fix a drink for himself.

Ethan held his mug up to the light and gazed absently into the golden depths of the beer, fizz rising endlessly from the bottom of the frosted mug. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his son turn to him.

“I don’t understand,” the boy whispered. “I’ve met the admiral on countless occasions. I knew he was married, but . . . I just can’t believe Mom was so close and I never found her! How is that possible?”

Ethan shook his head and took a gulp of beer. He followed that down with another gulp and another until he felt a welcome numbness begin seeping through him. He hadn’t eaten in a while—they’d only brought him two meals during his time in the brig on the
Defiant
, and two more while he’d been left in the cold, dark makeshift holding area that they’d prepared aboard the
Interloper—
so the alcohol was hitting him hard.

The admiral returned from the bar with his own selection, a fine cerulean wine. He sent Atton a tight smile as he sat down in the armchair opposite Ethan’s. “I don’t recall us ever having met,” Hoff said, proving that he’d heard Atton whispering.

“It’s a long story, Admiral.”

“Yes, I keep hearing about this story—so far it’s convenient, long, incredible . . . are there any more adjectives you’d like to add before you two start actually telling me what’s going on?”

Atton opened his mouth to reply, but then they heard a girlish squeal of delight, and everyone turned to see Atta come running down the hallway where Destra had disappeared earlier.