Anjelika's Heritage: Bad Intentions

by Caitlyn Konze

Mia Meerstein rested her head against the patch-worn seat and sighed. Anjelika could not relax as easily. She had just cashed out her credit stick and bartered passage on the first shuttle off Avenir, paying no attention to its destination or condition. Her knuckles were an angry red from constant rubbing, and she kept glancing at the hatch as if Enforcers waited on the other side. A ridiculous fear since they had left Avenir’s docks twenty minutes ago.

The vibration of the shuttle grew violent for two seconds then faded back to a steady hum. Anjelika glanced down. Her hands gripped her arm rests so tight her irritated knuckles looked pale. She forced her her fingers open. Five crescents on each arm marked where her nails had dug into the seat.

With eyes closed, Mia spoke. “Relax, honey. You did better than I expected from a pampered heiress.”

The way Mia said her last two words made Anjelika’s mind race with uncertainty. Had she mentioned her social status, or was it just that obvious? Anjelika shook the worry from her head, reminding herself why she was here.  “Tell me what happened to your husband.”

Mia sat up and addressed the pilot though her eyes were on Anjelika. “Privacy please.”

A small slit lining the doorway to the cockpit grew white, blinked a few times, then buzzed as a the space blacked out. Anjelika opened her mouth, but Mia held up her index finger. The widow unbuttoned a pouch on her belt and pulled out a flat, diamond-shaped piece of metal twice the size of a thumbnail. She slid the only switch on it. A high-pitched tone screamed in Anjelika’s ears, then diminished.

Mia jerked her head toward the cockpit. “Privacy screens are light-proof and sound-proof, but there’s still the com system.”

Anjelika nodded. Once again, Mia slumped in her chair. She folded her hands over her stomach before she began.

“Almost nine Foundings ago, an investigation was ordered about a dock breach. Darl had the bad habit of being perfectly honest all the time. His report concluded the hull had to have been weakened intentionally.”

Anjelika realized her jaw was wide open. She shut it. “But that would mean. . .”

Mia nodded. “It means the explosion that almost killed your mother was no accident. Darl knew, and that’s why my husband’s dead.”

The Engineer's Widow

by Caitlyn Konze -

The scrap of paper trembled in Anjelika's hand as she compared the scribble to the mag door identification. This was it. She flicked roaming hair off her shoulders. Auburn briefly haloed her face. Glass had insisted on repairing the shorts in her optic filaments before relinquishing the location of Mia Meerstein, wife of the dock engineer who investigated her mother’s accident.

A man with a briefcase clang-clipped past Anjelika, cloudy mustache perched on his lip. Most of his features were hidden below the brim of a cap.

“Can I help you?” Anjelika hadn't hailed the room yet, but a garbled voice came from the door's peep screen. Just a voice, no visual.

A clatter made Anjelika twitch with fear. Data sticks slid across the floor from the open briefcase of Mr. Mustache. Coincidence? Was she being tailed? Or was she slowly sinking into paranoia?

“Hello?” the voice in the door buzzed. “Who’s there?”

Anjelika pointed in the man's direction with her eyes. “It’s me, Mia. Did you forget about the recital?”

In a moment long enough for sweat to form on Anjelika’s brow, the only sound was Mr. Mustache plopping his data sticks into his briefcase one. At. A. Time.

“Is that you, Deedee? Sorry dear, vid screen's on the fritz. Be right out.”

Anjelika pinched her bottom lip between her teeth.

The mag door hissed open., and Anjelika was caught in a current of tangled, fading black hair.

“Your face is too honest to be one of them. What do you want?” the woman asked in barely a whisper. Then louder, “Sorry for the delay. You have the tickets, yes?”

Anjelika mimicked Mrs. Meerstein's whisper. “I need to know what your husband knew.”

Mia's pace slowed. “Somewhere public. Loud. I know a vapor bar in – ”

“No!”

They stopped. Anjelika’s ankle was well taped, the pain reliever amazing, and she walked with barely a limp. Thanks to Daddy’s demand for defense lessons, her attacker was in far worse shape. Still, the thought of being near that place chilled her from the inside out.

“No tickets?” Right. They were still pretending to be old friends on an outing. Bootsteps crescendoed behind them. Mrs. Meerstein drove Anjelika into a jog. “You know, I remember ordering them on my credit last week. Silly me!”

They snaked around to a transport tube just as Mr. Mustache shouted “Door, hold!”

Mia waved. “Sorry dear, full tube. Door, close. X-Unit.” The widow turned to Anjelika, voice absent of warmth. “I’ll tell you everything if you get me off this floating prison.”