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“How the hell would you know? Because of a few letters?”
“Lyria, I know. You do not want to shoot her.”
My arm is aching from holding the heavy pulseFist. “She tortured you and me, put us in a dungeon, right? Let’s make sure—”
Victra laughs from the ground. “Dungeon? You mean Electra’s playroom?” We’re just under one millimeter tall to her. “I gave those rooms to Electra when she turned four. She said our sophists were boring, and my mother did it to me, and look how I turned out.” She makes a small face. “Though there was Antonia, wasn’t there? But we sorted that.” Her smile is one part satisfaction, another part pride. “Electra solved the puzzle in thirteen days. Slower than me, of course, but far faster than her father, and, a little secret between us girls, part of me thinks she liked that a bit. The little harpy. Anyway, if I were really torturing you, you’d go mad. Just ask my husband.”
A playroom? Now Fig’s display makes sense. I feel about one millimeter tall.
“You saw what it did to us…” Volga says.
“Yes, well, a little friction never hurt anyone’s character. Seemed to do you wonders. If you were this bloodthirsty last year, your family might still be—”
A surge of anger goes through me and I fire the pulseFist at the ground near Victra’s head. I’m thrown backward by the recoil and almost drop the weapon. Victra didn’t even flinch. She yawns as steam from the melted snow clouds around her. “Gods, you Reds are dramatic.”
Volga takes the weapon from me.
“She is pregnant! I will not be evil.”
“Evil?” I snap. “You just plucked out Fig’s eyeballs.”
“She was already dead. She did not need them.”
“Figment’s dead?” Victra says. “Shit. Well, there’s thirty million credits wasted. I’ll miss her sparkling personality.” A thought comes to her. “Who was with her when she died?” Volga nods to me. Victra’s eyes fixate.
Does she know about the parasite?
“Thanks,” I say to Volga.
“You were, though.”
“Why would you tell her anything?”
“Not to be rude, but would you two mind bickering some other time and help me get this colossal tree off of my legs? My men will be homing on our signal, but it’s hardly dignified to be found lying on my back like a beached whale. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“We’re not helping you,” I say.
Volga looks like she wants to. “Where are your other daughters?” she asks.
“Safe.”
“You’re not helping her,” I say.
Volga turns on me, a low growl in her voice. “You do not control me. I will do what I think is right.”
“And you’re going to help this bitch? What happened to it not being our battle?”
Volga says nothing.
“Darling, don’t be such a mule. I understand you are so oppressed,” Victra says. “But let’s not be sanctimonious. You stole my daughter. Both of you. And I was decent enough to arrange a transfer to that Gray friend of yours when he didn’t even stipulate you needed to be in one piece. By any measure, I’m positively benevolent. You were both on your way to being Obsidian pets until those…things took my ship.”
“Ascomanni,” Volga corrects.
“Maybe,” Victra says.
“It was them,” Volga insists. Victra’s eyes suggest she agrees. “They knew my name.” Victra frowns, not completely surprised. What does she know?
“My point is, the least you could do is help me preserve some vestige of reputation by getting this gorydamn tree off my gorydamn legs,” she says. “If you want money for it, that’s no problem. What’s your price?”
