She was built to clean. To serve. To fade quietly into the background.
But the stars have other plans for her.
*****
In the Gaian Empire, there are twelve kinds of clones. Hirayas are the lowest - built to clean, to obey, to fade into the backgroun...
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A single argument lit the fuse—that was Pol's testimony.
He and Jared Fylior had clashed over the strategy for entering and descending into the cave.
Pol admitted he'd said something that set Jared off, and everyone knew how short Jared's temper could be. Jared pulled his bullet gun on him. They struggled, and in the chaos a shot went off, grazing Pol's side.
The echoes of that gunfire rippled through the fragile cavern, shaking the walls and triggering a collapse.
Pol said he'd managed to crawl out. But Jared and I were caught under the falling rocks, with a massive shard impaling me, shattering my helmet and tearing through my astrasuit. Jared, who died instantly from the impact, was buried deeper inside the cave where Pol couldn't reach him.
I, on the other hand, had fallen closer to the mouth of the cave, just far enough for Pol to drag me out before everything came down.
"Then. . . yeah. That's it. You know what happened next," Pol finishes, his voice impassive.
"But that still doesn't explain what happened to your rover," Dylan cuts in. "Half of it was destroyed, Pol. Tons of unbreakable metal—titanium and virrelium, no less—crumpled like paper. And where the hell did the main door go?"
I catch the sharp inhale from Pol before he answers.
"Honestly, Officer, I'm not entirely sure either. My theory is that maybe the shockwave from the cave collapse reached the parked rover—"
"At half a mile?" Jon interjects, leaning over the glass table. "A cave collapse isn't a nuclear blast, Napoleon. A shockwave doesn't crush things inward—it pushes them apart. And if it was strong enough to tear through titanium, your helmet would've been pancaked too, considering you were right at the cave's mouth. Clearly, you're not telling us everything."
Then their eyes turn on me. Both of them, accusing.
I lower my head and press a hand lightly over the bandaged wound on my stomach.
"Still can't remember anything," I say under my breath. "Sorry."
Jon rakes a hand through his hair restlessly. "I need to smoke," he mutters, already turning away.
They'd been waiting nearly a week for me to wake up. And just as long, they'd been circling Pol like sharks, questioning him over and over, because apparently he's the only one who could tell the whole truth.
The comm system, they added, had failed half a dozen times during the mission. Even Ayaz Gurel admitted he was clueless. Said it was like everything that happened down on Vesta had been swallowed whole by some strange anomaly, leaving nothing behind but static on Solstice18's satellite signals.
Which is why, even now, Jon and Dylan are still pacing around without a single answer they can actually believe.
When Jon finally slips out of the consultation chamber, Dylan turns to us.
