Jalys knelt to make eye-contact, her sharp teeth showing. “You foolish, brave, little slave. I begged for your life. You showed more honor than the feds when you came into The Tabor. I couldn’t save your father, but you, my dear. You impress me. You have 48 hours to get off-planet. That’s as long as my protection holds.”
Betta made another motion to strike and felt something hard hit the back of her head. She collapsed into Bor’s chest, her vision going dark.
Betta awoke on the glider. The console to her side doubled then became one console, then doubled again. She closed her eyes and pain radiated from the back of her head and into her neck. When she tried to lift herself up, her wrist bent limply and she cried out in pain.
Her mask was in place and her oxygen read-out was at seventy-five percent. She was at ninety-eight percent when she entered the Tabor. That meant she’d been on oxygen for over an hour.
Getting into a sitting position, being sure not to use her wrist, she cleared the dust from the console with the other hand. The console was already signed into her personal account. Betta tapped the box on the screen and somber music blared about the glider. There was only one piece of news that came with that music.
A company avatar for Pilo Corporation appeared. It was a cartoonish head of a dark-haired man with an olive complexion.
“Hello, Betta Jane Reganta,” said the avatar in an announcer voice common to most Pilo Corporation avatars.
“With our deepest condolences we must inform you of the death of your father, George Perry Reganta. He was a valued employee of Pilo Corporation. Sadly, he was the victim of a hole in our safety policies for which we whole-heartedly take responsibility. As such, in your time of grieving we are offering you, Betta Jane Reganta, compensation for our fault. Once you acknowledge receipt of this message, your account will be credited and all liability to Pilo Corporation will be absolved. Again, we are sorry for your loss, but hope this meager form of compensation will aid you during your time of sorrow.”
For a long time, the music swelled, then reached its crescendo as the avatar and Betta seemed to stare at one another.
“Dad? He’s gone?”
The avatar stared back, waiting.
Her eyes started to tear as the sad music restarted. Taking a series of shallow breaths, she laid her hand across the console.
“Thank you for your acknowledgement, Betta Jane Reganta. Your account has been credited.”
The screen returned to her email provider.
And just like that, Betta had no family left in the entire galaxy.
For a time, she sat there, her head cradled in her arms, weeping softly. She felt like an idiot for thinking she could outsmart the black-market dealers on Arys-27. Betta had gone in so confident that she could beat them with her lists in her head and her infallible memory. The field training with the feds was useless rabble in her brain and, in the end, she’d never thought her father would be in danger. Not once did she consider the danger of revealing her identity would mean for him. It hurt even more knowing that he had always done everything to protect her, and not once did she think to protect him. Everyone said the feds couldn’t be hacked. That was always their message.
Their message. Betta halted her sobbing. Had Jalys always been hacked into the feds? It made sense. Every bust, every account that Betta linked never pointed at Jalys. In fact, they were only following bread crumbs in hopes of setting up a meeting with the head of the organization they didn’t even have a name for. That meant she’d been manipulated for years. Was it possible she never really had any type of talent, that her bust on organized black-market dealings on Arys-27 had all been orchestrated by Jalys?
Betta was ready to hide further into her cocoon of sorrow and self-doubt when a chime sounded, notifying Betta that another email reached her account. Sitting up, she reached out and opened the package.
A man of similar mahogany complexion appeared on the screen. Normally, his face was smeared with grime and his hair cropped and tightly curled from lack of care. The man who sat before her was clean-cut with a clear face. And his eyes didn’t hold the weariness she recalled.
“Hey, baby.” Her father smiled sadly at the camera. “If you got this, that means I’m dead. I’m sorry.”
Betta couldn’t stop the return of the sudden sob that struck her lungs or the tears that poured down her face. The pain that pushed out the racking moans and cries wouldn’t leave her body or even lessen its attack. Instead, it grew stronger, threatening to paralyze her entirely.
“Don’t cry.” His voice caught and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Look, I always felt bad about raising you here. I thought we’d have a future when we left Earth. After your momma died, and work dried up, it didn’t feel right not trying something crazy like joining a mining team off-planet. But we both know how that turned out. It feels like no matter how many times I think I’m making the right decision, it ends up costing somewhere down the line. No matter. I still gotta try, right?”
Betta’s eyes narrowed and her sobbing slowed. “What did you do, Daddy?”
“And I know you hated this place. I know you hated that I brought you here. And even though you never said it, I know you hated being a slave to the feds.”
Betta sat up straight. That was the same word Jalys used to describe her time with the feds. It couldn’t be coincidence.
“So, as my penance,” her father continued, “I’ve been investing all the creds I could. I got as much life insurance and took all those high-risk jobs that come with bonuses. And I might have traded a personal favor here and there.” He grinned now. “And now, if I’m dead, I can finally buy you a real future.
“I got you a station. Your very own station. I mean, it’s crude, but it’s got the best air scrubbers, I hear. I checked on the suppliers for inventory and they’re all certified, and it’s even got federal protection. Now you own the whole lot with some controlling shares belonging to Pilo, but that couldn’t be avoided. The main thing is that you get a higher profit share. And with your special talents…” He clapped his hands in excitement. “You’ll be rich in no time! You can sell it and buy yourself some planet paradise and sit pretty.”
Betta laughed, despite the pain in her chest, head, and wrist. “You’re such an ass. Are you kidding?”
“Baby. I wish I could be there to watch you work your magic.” He grew somber now, looking away from the camera. “But it doesn’t work like that. I would have never made enough just with bonuses. The details are attached to this email. They’ll put you in stasis. It’s about a 30-year trip, but the work is up to you. It’s all I could give you, a chance to get out of this agreement with the feds and have a real life. Whoo!” he yelled, smacking his hands together again. “You can do it, baby!”
The word “stasis” hung in her mind for a moment. She saw the top to her old metallic pod closing her in, then the last one that she spent ten cycles peering at in a sleepy daze while information was pumped into her brain. 30 years was three times what she had spent in the android stasis pod.
The air wheezed out of her chest as Betta laid back on the hard seats of the glider. She wiped her face dry with her good hand while keeping her eyes on her father in an attempt to will him back to life.
“I love you, baby,” he said softly, his grin almost crazed as he waved.
The image ended with an attachment that detailed the deal he made, the space station that she now owned. He’d named it – of course – Betta’s Station.
“I love you, Daddy,” Betta said softly into the silence.
Already her mind was making lists and linking items of need with the sector of space he had chosen. Her fingers were jumping for the console to put her plans in motion when the next mail alert popped up. Betta touched the screen to open it. A familiar face with green eyes and a cut jaw appeared.