I just need to get through this extra shift—and the ceremony Dr. Veragelen has been surreptitiously planning for weeks now. She may be walking around acting like she doesn’t care about today, like it’s some giant inconvenience or something, but anyone who works closely with her knows it’s all she’s been thinking about.
Since I have the misfortune of working more closely with her than most—bodyguard to the head doc in charge comes with a lot of downsides—I know exactly how on edge she’s been about today’s presentation. After all, it’s hard to conquer the known universe if you’re on the Empress’s bad side. And if there’s anything the doc wants more than to make this bizarre experiment of hers work, it’s access to all the secrets of the universe. And the power that comes with it.
That’s probably why she’s dressed in style today. She’s in her usual black lab suit, but she’s added a fancy black cloak. She looks goddamn ridiculous. Who the hell wears a cloak, anyway?
Rumor has it that the not-so-good doc is over three hundred years old and that the Corporation—founded by the seven Ruling Families and the ones in charge of all the tech around here—has found ways to extend their lifespans. If so, they’re not sharing the secret with the rest of us.
But that’s the Corporation for you. Secretive bastards.
Regardless, ever since Doc V laid eyes on me when I arrived two months ago, I’ve been on permanent personal bodyguard duty. I think she has a thing for me, but never going to happen. I’d rather fuck a slogg.
Apart from the fact that she gives me the creeps, I hold her personally responsible for whatever happened to Milla. I’ve seen a little of what goes on in the labs here—and the thought of that being done to one of the most important people in the system to me makes my blood boil. I’m thinking, once Milla is safe, I’ll make that personal visit to the doc and pay a few overdue debts.
Although not the way she’s expecting.
The docking bay doors slide open as we approach, and she walks inside. I follow two steps behind, exactly how she likes me. I’m hyperalert—also how she likes me—eyes scanning the crowd for any semblance of a threat. It’s no skin off my ass if someone kills her, but I don’t need any excuse for the prison ship not to land tomorrow as planned.
There are a lot of visiting shuttles in the bay—more than I expected—and a dais has been set up in the center of the room. A bunch of brightly dressed assholes are lined up along it.
My gaze is drawn to a woman in the center of the group and slightly in front, and my lips twitch. Another grandiose know-it-all who doesn’t actually know anything, only this one’s in a purple cloak instead of a black one.
She’s tall, maybe the tallest woman in the room, and beneath the cloak, she’s wearing a skintight, floor-length dress of a deep purple, which hugs her—admittedly—impressive curves. I’m guessing it would be a pain in the ass to get her out of all those shiny little buttons. But I’d be up for trying.
We’re nearly to the dais as I lift my gaze to her face. Her mouth is wide and lush, her cheekbones high. She’s watching me out of strange silver eyes, and something about the way she’s looking at me makes me think she definitely likes what she sees.
I raise an eyebrow in response, my lips twisting into a smirk I don’t even try to hide. Her eyes widen, and then she sniffs and gives me a haughty look in return. It’s pretty hot—and so is she, despite the cape.
Too bad I can’t stick around.
The doc climbs the steps to the podium and comes to stand in front of her, blocking my view, and I shift to the side.
“Your Highness,” Doc V says with a cursory bow of her head.
Your what the fuck now?
I’ve been eye-fucking a goddamn princess. That’s a first.
But eye-fucking is all I’ll be doing, because I fucking hate the Ruling Families. They’re a load of parasitic assholes who look after themselves and don’t give a shit about the rest of us. And I’m sure, if that stick-up-her-ass look is anything to go by, this princess is no better than the rest of them.
“It’s an honor to have you with us on the ISS Caelestis today,” the doc continues in her rapid-fire way. She’s never been one to waste time on pleasantries.
“It’s an honor to be here, Dr. Veragelen,” Princess Stick-Up-Her-Ass answers in a voice as cool and classy as the rest of her. “I’m excited to tour the laboratories. And hear what progress is being made.”
I can’t help wondering if she plans on checking out all the laboratories—or just the ones Dr. Veragelen doesn’t hide behind Top Secret signs. Then again, she’s probably got more than top-secret clearance—which means she already knows exactly what the good doctor gets up to behind locked doors.
After all, the Ruling Families founded and essentially run the Corporation, which essentially has a monopoly on tech in the Senestris System. I didn’t know much about it until recently. In general, the people on my planet stay the hell away from the Corporation, like any sensible person does. But we’re here now, and it’s best to know your enemy.
This guy, Gage, who’s a technician on board, has been helping us out—for a price—and he’s told us some stuff about the Corporation that makes even this hardened criminal feel like a Sister of the Light.
“I look forward to showing you around,” Doc V manages with a small curve of her lips that makes me wonder if her face is about to crack.
I’ve been here for nearly two months, and I’ve never seen her smile. I didn’t think she knew how.
“All in good time,” she continues before turning to address the rest of the people on the dais. “As you are probably aware, the Caelestis is the most sophisticated science vessel in the system. We have twenty-seven laboratories on board, as well as the fastest, most advanced computers ever designed. Today, we will be—”
She breaks off as a green light flashes above the doors to the airlock. That ship that buzzed the alarm earlier must have landed, and when the doc frowns as a crew member approaches, I go on full alert, my right hand flexing beside the laser pistol strapped to my thigh.
“Ma’am, the Reformer is asking for permission to dock.”
Well, fuck. That’s not good news. Max and I aren’t ready.
“They’re not expected until tomorrow. I specifically arranged for them to come tomorrow.” The doc’s nostrils flare, but it’s the only outward sign of her annoyance.
Apparently, having a princess around puts her on surprisingly good behavior.
She purses her lips as she thinks it through, then says, “Make sure she’s loaded and leaves before the tour is over.”
More bad news. This is a fucking disaster—at least for me. Because, tour or not, princess or not, there is no way I’m waiting around until the next time the Reformer docks. Not when it could be months. And not when those months mean Milla is on her own, who the fuck knows where, suffering who the fuck knows what.