I look at Veila again, not wanting to give Flicka away. She can get off this station. Slip into the next ship going out. No reason why all three of us have to get stuck in this nightmare. Or if Veila really is going to send Delphi away, go with her at least. Maybe even go for help.
“You won’t be able to convince me,” I say, answering her question.
“Humor me.”
I say nothing. Because there is truly nothing to say.
“And please, have a seat while we talk.”
Flicka does a little loop-de-loop in the air near the flowers, and for some reason I get the feeling she wants me to do as Veila asks.
Maybe she does have a plan?
I walk over to the table and sit in the chair opposite Veila. While I do this I see Flicka dart over to the drink decanter and land on the lip. Then she plops down into the amber liquid.
I avert my eyes back to Veila and say, “You killed my ship,” because Flicka is definitely up to something and I don’t want to give her away.
Veila shrugs. “She was attacking us. And obviously it was your ship who brought Delphi here. You can’t blame me for protecting myself.”
It hurts to think of Dicker being gone. I just can’t believe it, that after all these years—after that grand gesture from ALCOR to save us so we could tug her back to Harem and fix her up—that she goes out like this. Just shimmering away into nothingness.
“Forget your ship for a moment. If she means that much to you we can have a memorial ceremony in a few days. If you’re good.”
My hands begin to shake from the urge to wrap my fingers around Veila’s neck and choke the life right out of her.
“No, thanks,” I say. “That would insult me and my relationship with her.”
“Whatever,” Veila says, waving a hand in front of her face. “I can’t let you go and I can’t let Delphi go, but I can give you something else.”
“Like what?” I growl.
“Your brother, of course. Did you forget that he’s still alive?”
“He’s not. You’re lying. Serpint saw him die. He was shot in the head. No one survives something like that.”
“Serpint saw him get hit,” Veila says. “I was there when he stole Corla from me. I was there after he turned tail and ran home to his daddy. But I had heard rumors about your brother Draden. Rumors that ALCOR did something to him a long time ago. And I decided to have his body moved to the medical facility and put into a cryopod.”
“ALCOR did what to him?” I ask. Because if there’s a chance that Draden is still alive—somehow, some way—I need to know more.
“It’s a procedure for teenagers. Sometimes adults have it done too. Akeelians, for instance. Because your kind ages so differently than Cygnians. I have personally seen an Akeelian male have the procedure as late as forty-six. He wasn’t completely sane when it was over and eventually we did have to put him down. But it worked. For a while.”
Put him down, she says. Like he was some kind of diseased, wild animal. “Why are you telling me this?”
“After we’re done breeding—and it won’t be long, Jimmy. I am older than most of the females we’re using in the program. So after I have my first set of true-bred twins we can just… farm you for your genetics. I won’t allow anyone else to have you because you’re mine, but I have no adverse feelings about letting you be in the collection stable.”
“The collection stable?” I want to throw up.
“We can’t waste all that excess semen inside you, can we?”
“What is your fucking point?” I ask. Because this conversation is just gross.
“Right,” she says, smiling. “Back to the point. Draden isn’t like you anymore. He can’t breed. He might be useful in other ways if we could get him to cooperate, but so far he’s been a violent little prick. Almost not worth the hassle. So if you find it in yourself to do as I ask, I could be persuaded to let him go. Let him return to Harem Station, perhaps. Live somewhat of a normal life.”
I just stare at her. Then notice out of the corner of my eye that Flicka has climbed back out of the drink decanter and is flying to a nearby vent.
I don’t think one drop of dragonbee bot venom can do much, but hell. It’s worth a try. The little shit did go through all the trouble of sneaking over there. So I reach out and grab Veila’s drink glass. Several of the cyborgs rush towards us at my quick movement, but Veila holds up a hand and they stop in place like good little drones.
I bring the glass up to my lips, pretend to take a sip, then put it down and smile at Veila. “You did offer me a drink, right?”