Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Epilogue

epilogue

Three months, eleven days, and six hours after waking in Central’s medical wing, the thought of returning to Regnum Maris still churned Vela’s stomach.

Events had transpired exactly as Fyn predicted they would. He’d dressed and posed Vela before turning himself in, so no one questioned his testimony of her near-victory. The reward for his capture had gone to Kalis, of course, not that Vela minded. After fourteen years as a bounty hound, she was finally ready for a change. Or she would be, after finishing her final hunt.

Vela crossed another name off her list and steeled her nerves as best she could, then blinked to a parking garage on the outskirts of Waldorf’s Cradle. She could tell from the pressure that the miasma was dense enough to choke her, but she removed her respirator anyway. For a moment, the tangible pain eclipsed the abstract. Too bad only one ache faded.

She shooed away the memories from her last visit as she searched the neighboring complex for apartment 115-A. Seconds after she rang the bell, a Marisian woman answered, gills flaring in surprise.

“I wasn’t expecting a visitor.” She smoothed her rumpled skirt. “Can I help you with something?”

“Other way around, assuming you’re Ms. Anyta Longsworth,” Vela said, adjusting the script she’d recited over fifty times before. “I’m here on behalf of my colleague, goes by Fyn.”

“I…I can’t believe you’re really here,” the woman replied, blinking wildly. “I was certain, when they arrested that poor man…”

After all Seriville Services had put Anyta’s family through, she deserved an attentive ear, but the mere mention of the arrest sent Vela’s mind to Tenibris Delta, where Fyn was being held. Vela could never visit the prison for fear of drawing unnecessary scrutiny. There would be no attending the trial, either, assuming Central granted one.

“Seems I’ve forgotten my manners.” Anyta’s bright chuckle jarred Vela back to Regnum Maris. “You must be exhausted after travelling so far. Please come in. I’ll put a kettle on.”

Having endured a version of this conversation on no less than twenty planets, Vela knew her protests would go unheard. So she allowed her host to lead her to the sitting room, where she’d wait patiently until the tea was brewed and the Marisian equivalent of cookies were arranged on a tray.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Anyta promised before rushing off.

Moments were a conveniently vague unit of measurement. It had been a moment since Vela last checked her wrist-console for messages, a moment since she added a new encyclopedia to her library, a moment since she fell asleep in Fyn’s arms, lulled by the sound of his breathing. Another moment, or two, or twenty of waiting wouldn’t kill her, though it would probably try its damndest.

The sitting room was cramped and cluttered. Handprints smudged the plaster walls, and a storm of toys littered the floor. A portrait of a woman, framed in gold, was the family’s final vestige of wealth. It must have been a sentimental keepsake. Otherwise, they would have sold it to purchase more space. Hopefully, Fyn’s funds would grant them at least that much.

Vela had been waiting only a few minutes when three young children raced into the room, playing tag, of all possible games. Blinking a pesky sting from her eyes, she looked past them to the screen in the corner. The animated antics of a pink Cetaloid and his pet anemone had nearly succeeded in distracting her when the program flashed over to breaking news.

“We’ve received word of a high-profile prison break.” The reporter read directly from a print sheet. “A prisoner vanished from his cell in Tenibris Delta overnight, leaving authorities flummoxed. As of yet, details of the escape are vague, but Central has requested that anyone with information call…”

Vela was so lost in the newscast that she nearly missed the chirp of her wrist-console. The second an envelope appeared on the screen with neither sender’s name nor subject line, she trapped a breath and clicked it open.

Having wanted to visit the desert planet of Haset for decades, she readily recognized the set of coordinates that greeted her. She scrolled right past them to find the simple, three-word message she’d dreamed of but hadn’t dared hope for:

Tag, you’re it.