Brightly Burning(71)

“She’s not very pretty, is she? And what about Bianca, Hugo? You and she are already betrothed.”

“I don’t love Bianca; I love Stella,” Hugo said, and my heart fluttered despite Cassandra’s wound. “And I find her very pretty. And clever, and kind. You shouldn’t say such awful things.” I squeezed Hugo’s hand in thanks and scooted closer.

“You’re only fourteen; too young to marry.”

“I’m nineteen, mom. You need to remember this time. Dad is gone, and I’m not him. I’m going to marry Stella. You can’t try to hurt her again.”

Cassandra began to violently shake her head back and forth, muttering a litany of noes. Her moment of lucidity passed; she gulped for air, cried, thrashed against her restraints. “He was a murderer!” she shrieked. “He made murderers of us all!”

Lieutenant Poole reappeared with Hanada in tow, the latter carrying a small metal case from which she extracted a syringe.

“Not her,” Cassandra growled, pulling against her restraints. Hanada was uncharacteristically silent, no biting retort passing her lips. Indeed, she appeared contrite as she administered the dose.

“Don’t you see she’s trying to steal you away?” Cassandra pleaded with Hugo, who grabbed ahold of my hand, palm clammy, as if to anchor himself to me.

“Mom, please. I’m not Dad.”

Cassandra was not convinced. She continued to shout accusations at us, the drug slow to take effect. Hugo’s hand tensed in mine; he squeezed to the point that it started to hurt. I feared he’d come undone if we stayed much longer, so I took the initiative, dragging Hugo to his feet, out the door, back to the elevator. I had to take his right hand in mine, press it to the bio-lock as he stood numb, peering back in the direction of the screams. I pushed him into the elevator, hit the button for Deck Two, and nudged him gently along until we reached his study.

“Here, drink this,” I commanded, pushing a glass of liquor into his hands. Hugo did not second-guess me, gulping down half the glass in one go. I took a sip myself, relishing the way the liquid burned down my throat, like bitter ashes.

“How are you feeling?” I asked once Hugo had finished the glass. He seemed less shaken. I, on the other hand, felt my pulse quicken, and sweat prickled on my brow.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

“I’m fine. It’s only hair.” I made sure to reinstate my poker face and braced myself for the conversation to come. “What did your mother mean, Hugo? About your father working on a virus and the Stalwart being a target?”

Hugo’s eyes flashed with surprise and an underlying panic. “She’s not well. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You heard her. She thinks I’m my dad.” He was hedging. He was lying. Tears burned in my eyes; I blinked them back, willing myself not to fall apart.

“Hugo, please tell me your family wasn’t responsible for the Kebbler virus.”

He looked away, to the window, as if the black expanse would absolve him. “I can’t. Now you know.”

“It killed so many children,” I choked out, letting the tears slip freely down my cheeks.

“Now you know why my mother killed my father. You know all my secrets.”

Not quite. “Mason came here to prove that your mother was still alive. That you disobeyed a fleet order of execution, right?” He nodded. “Then why did he leave? It was a month ago, and nothing’s happened.”

Hugo flinched.

“Something has happened?”

He grabbed my hands, grasped them so tightly, it hurt. Wild eyes burned into mine. “I didn’t know. You must believe me. Mari’s been doing off-the-books experimentation for years, concocting new and deadlier viruses. And Mason knew.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mason is from the Population and Control Department. Population control is his job. He came here for the virus . . .”

I extracted my hands from his and looked at Hugo, who looked like his father, a man who had doomed thousands to death not that many years ago.

“Hugo, what did you do?” I practically whispered.

“Everything wrong.”

“So that’s it?” I said, taking a step back, positioning myself closer to the door. “You just hand over a virus that will ravage the poor of the fleet? And I’m guessing you have a vaccine that will save the rich?”

No reply. Just waves of rage and guilt from the hunch of his shoulders, the way he refused to look at me.

“It’s not too late. Just don’t give Mason what he wants. We’ll figure out another solution.”

“It is too late,” Hugo said to the crystal in his hand. “Mason already has what he needs.”


Chapter Twenty-Four


His words were a lead weight in my stomach, and a shot of adrenaline to the heart.

I ran.

To my quarters, where the door was still open from the earlier assault, where I cordoned myself off to think. Mason had the virus, and I was sure the Stalwart was a target again. Everything made sense—?other ships taking over food production gradually during the last several years. A safeguard in the event the Stalwart suffered a major catastrophe, whether that meant reentry to Earth or a deadly virus wiping out most of the population. I had to warn them, warn George, but Mason was likely still monitoring my communication. And besides, what good would warning them do? You can’t hide from a virus, and running wasn’t an option either. The Stalwart was a sitting duck.