Authors: Mitchell Hogan
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Alien Invasion, #Colonization, #Exploration, #First Contact, #Galactic Empire, #Space Opera, #Space Exploration, #Inquisitor
Inquisitor (32 page)
Charlotte’s image winked out.
Another message squirted into her implants. Angel chuckled then sniffed. An instruction manual on the care of babies—a parting joke from Charlotte.
She had evidence that would clear her name, along with ancient documents proving the Genevolves didn’t used to be all that bad, whatever good that would do her or anyone. She had files from Crissalt on the corrupt Inquisitors, plus the information on how the Genevolves were moving credits around. And she knew there was a faction of Genevolves who were allies. At least, they purported to be. She knew who’d killed Harry and who’d murdered Viktor. Jessica was likely Mercurial’s doing to cover their tracks; she could follow that up later.
But she’d lost Charlotte.
Angel shook her head and nestled back into one of the life-pod’s cushioned seats. She scanned the system and found the Genevolve ships scattered and in disarray. More Inquisitor ships arrived, including a Marauder-class battleship. Genevolve ships winked and vanished—some annihilated by heavy weapons, while others escaped.
The life-pod requested permission to broadcast a distress signal, and she gave it.
•
Angel executed a burn and brought the life-pod around on a vector toward the Inquisitor mother ship. The fact they’d battled the Genevolves meant whoever was commanding the Inquisitors wasn’t compromised, but it was best if she was still careful.
She swallowed and sent a message. “Inquisitor Angel Xia requesting permission to dock.”
There was a delay of a few moments. Her screen crackled to life, revealing Inquisitor Margith. She looked tired, eyes hollow and smile wan.
“Margith!” Angel exclaimed, eyes widening. She smiled. Margith’s name wasn’t among the Inquisitors in Crissalt’s files. But then she’d always known the Inquisitor wasn’t corrupt. They’d replaced her with someone else when Angel had been on the run.
“That’s Chief Inquisitor Margith. Welcome back, Inquisitor Xia.”
Epilogue
Three years later
Angel stared out her kitchen window. A thin drizzle fell against the panes. The lawn was getting long; almost time to mow it again. Beside the window, a screen showed images of smoke pluming from explosions. Occasionally, there flashed scenes of wounded men and women trailing blood. A series of organized and well-coordinated assassinations had occurred across the systems, and an advanced military spaceship had been hijacked and was now missing.
Children’s laughter broke her from her reverie. She made a mental note and squirted a message to Margith. Hastily, she switched the channel to one less bloody—an animated fairy turned an old elf into a frog with a pop. Better.
She turned and finished packing the lunches, one for each of them, and one for her. Though she was busy hunting Genevolves with Margith, she did enjoy making her children’s lunches, and spending as much time with them as she could. Unfortunately, hunting psychotic Genevolves and working to integrate the stable ones, like her, back into society, didn’t leave a lot of time.
She deposited a small red apple in the corner of each lunchbox and closed the lids.
Tiny booted feet stomped, gaining volume as they approached.
“Hey, you two! No running down the stairs.”
“Sorry, Mom!” Isabelle and Casimir chimed in unison. They clattered into the kitchen, heads barely reaching the top of the bench. Both had black hair similar to hers and striking green eyes.
Angel frowned. Isabelle had changed her top. She was now wearing a plain black shirt. She was too young to be wearing black, but it was a sensible color.
“What happened to your shirt?” she asked.
“It had a picture of a princess on it.”
Isabelle screwed her nose up, while Casimir had opened his lunchbox and was replacing his water bottle with one of Angel’s.
Mikal had bought the shirt for Isabelle. Angel and Isabelle both preferred dinosaurs. “What’s wrong with princesses?”
“Real princesses don’t wear pictures of themselves,” Isabelle said matter-of-factly.
“Huh. So they don’t. Casimir, what are you doing?”
“I don’t want a non-spill bottle. They’re for babies.”
“All right. Ask next time before taking one of mine.”
Casimir nodded solemnly.
Angel gave him a smile just as there was a noise at the front door.
“It’s Daddy!” screamed Isabelle, and both she and Casimir grabbed their lunch boxes and rushed out of the kitchen.
Angel followed and planted a kiss on Mikal’s cheek.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Angel nodded. “Fine. Get them to school. They’re late.”
Mikal nodded. “I’ll see you this evening, then?”
“Yes. I’ll be home before you, as usual, so I’ll have dinner ready.”
“Please don’t cook yourself,” Mikal said with a laugh.
“What are you trying to—”
He planted his lips on hers to cut her off. They lingered there, until eventually Angel pushed him away.
“They’re late. You’re late. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”
With hurried farewells, the three of them left. Mikal would drop them off at school before going to work.
Angel watched them go, as usual unable to take her eyes from her children until they disappeared out of sight. She sighed and was about to close the door when a messenger van pulled up. Angel’s hand slipped to touch her empty thigh—habit, and her hand-cannon was upstairs—then up to a palm-sized gun stuck to the side of the door.
A man rushed up, clutching a box in one hand. He scanned their house code and handed Angel the box before hastening away.
It was wrapped like a present: silver paper with a green ribbon. Mikal; it had to be.
Angel smiled and shut the door, moving to the kitchen, where she sat on a stool and stared at the present for a good few seconds. Unable to resist the temptation further, she unwrapped it.
She stared unblinkingly at the contents.
She had her implants dial Chief Inquisitor Margith at the Inquisitors’ office.
“I… ah… won’t be coming in today… I know… I’m sorry. Something came up… Yes… Of course. Goodbye.”
Hands trembling, Angel reached in, and from the box removed a golden bracelet decorated with swirly lines resembling hair. She placed it on the counter in front of her and sat there, staring. For a long time, she didn’t move.
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