Chapter 14 - Neela
I stare at my friend in disbelief.
“I think Marjorie killed him!” he declares, his tone dramatic.
What on Mars is he talking about? Youssef was perfectly fine—apart from his ankle.
“Calm down and explain,” Kiran tells him firmly.
“When we got there, Youssef was a bit… floaty.”
“Painkillers can have that effect on some people,” I confirm. “He had another dose scheduled for this morning, in addition to the one I gave him last night.”
“He’d already taken it. On the way there, he was babbling, saying he’d seen things but wouldn’t say what. He kept starting sentences, then stopping and ending with, ‘but I won’t say anything.’ When we arrived at the care unit, Vassili and Marjorie were already there.”
“I’ve told you about Vassili Porkoff,” I say to Prax.
“Marjorie is one of his closest associates. What were they doing there?”
“They were waiting for Youssef! They must’ve heard he was being transferred this morning. As soon as he saw them, he freaked out, kept repeating he hadn’t said anything. We settled him in a room and went to the front desk to wait for you. That’s when I saw Vassili leave.”
“So what?” I say, maybe a little disingenuously. “The Regent checked in on Youssef after his accident. Why is that so strange?”
“You really don’t find that suspicious?” my brother asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
He’s right. Vassili and his crew never bother with our people unless there’s an agenda. But what exactly is freaking Esteban out? And what’s this about Marjorie?
“Esteban, deep breath,” Kiran advises. “You’re all over the place.”
We steer him to the couch, and a steaming mug somehow appears in his hands. Three pairs of eyes are fixed on him, waiting.
“When Viktor and I dropped him off in his room, I stayed behind to get him a glass of water. He grabbed my wrist and told me again that he’d seen things but promised not to say anything.
He said he slipped while running home because he thought someone was following him. That’s how he hurt his ankle.”
“Okay, he ran, he slipped, he fell, he got hurt. What does any of that have to do with Marjorie?” I ask, still confused.
“He was scared I’d let her in. He kept saying, ‘no visitors, make her go away.’ I figured he was just delirious, so I left him alone and went back to the front desk.
That’s when Noemie told me about Kiran’s message on channel 3.
Said you were too exhausted to work today and would stay home to rest. She also said Salvatore would be taking your shift and arriving soon to check on your patient. ”
I look up and meet my brother’s eyes.
“Just get to the point already, Human!” Prax growls.
Esteban flinches, now even more rattled.
“Don’t scare him, Furball,” Kiran chides. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh no, you two are not starting this again,” I snap.
“Not now. Esteban, look at me. Calm down. What happened next?”
My friend’s eyes lock on mine, a bit lost, then he takes a breath and steadies himself.
“Youssef didn’t want Marjorie anywhere near his room.
When I found out you weren’t coming, I decided to let him know in person.
As I got close to his room, I saw Marjorie coming out—smiling like she’d just won a battle.
I thought maybe they’d talked things out.
Or maybe Youssef had said something ridiculous and she found it funny. ”
“And?” we all ask at once.
“Youssef was dead! When I walked in, he wasn’t breathing!”
My mind starts racing. What could’ve caused cardiac arrest naturally? Several things, sure—a heart attack, a stroke, a seizure. But this timing? This coincidence?
“Esteban, you’re not a doctor. He could’ve just been asleep,” I say, though not very convincingly.
“You’re saying I can’t tell the difference between dead and asleep?
I grew up learning first aid like everyone else.
Trust me—he wasn’t breathing. No visible injuries, but she must’ve done something.
Haven’t you seen all the tricks in those old crime shows? ”
Kiran strides over to the CCC and switches to channel 59. A news bulletin blares through.
“…sadly announce the death of our fellow citizen Youssef Mohamad. He was injured yesterday on his way home. Our dedicated doctor Neela treated him promptly. Unfortunately, he did not respond well to the transfer and died of cardiac arrest. He will be cremated later today. Please remember: even a patch of ice can have tragic consequences. In other news, Nathalie will be moving in with…”
Kiran switches back to channel 3.
We’re all silent.
Then he turns to me.
“Is this possible? The cardiac arrest?”
“Well, that’s how death is defined: the heart stops beating. But it’s vague. All causes of death end that way—whether you’re suffocated, drowned, or stabbed, your heart stops eventually. I’m not saying he was murdered, just that the explanation is far too broad to mean anything concrete.”
“I’m telling you—she killed him,” Esteban insists.
“You could see it in her face!”
“Okay, I’ll go down to Cydonia and check on him myself,” I announce. “No one would think twice if I dropped in after his accident yesterday.”
“No way!” Kiran objects.
“Out of the question!” adds Prax.
“No!” Esteban groans.
Great. For once, they all agree.
“Someone’s coming,” Prax says, disappearing into my bedroom.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Viktor bursts into the house, visibly shaken. For a place designed for one person, it’s gotten pretty crowded lately.
“You’ve heard?” he asks, collapsing onto the couch.
“We just did,” Kiran replies.
“I was looking for Esteban after leaving the care unit. He wasn’t home, so I stopped by Kiran’s. Meg said he was here. I’m glad you’re all together. I need to tell you what I heard.”
“We’re listening,” my brother says.
“Give me one second, I need the bathroom,” I announce.
Really, I just need an excuse to open the two doors separating the living room from the bathroom, where Prax is hiding.
I want him to hear everything. I find him standing with arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
I signal him to be quiet, wait a minute, then head back to the living room with the doors left wide open.
“Okay,” Viktor starts. “This morning I went to pick up Youssef, as planned. He seemed really on edge. Said death was coming for him. He didn’t want to die and he wouldn’t let it happen.
Then Esteban showed up. We brought him to the care center like we said we would.
He was agitated, kept saying he knew what he saw but wouldn’t tell anyone.
We left him in his room, and I headed out. ”
So far, it matches Esteban’s account perfectly.
“I stopped to say hi to Henri and check in on his family. Then I saw Vassili. He was standing about ten feet away, behind the big pine at the entrance. I wondered who he was waiting for. That’s when I saw Marjorie walk up to him with a big smile.
I’ve always suspected those two had more than a work relationship.
Anyway, she told him, ‘It’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore.
’ I didn’t understand what she meant until I heard about Youssef’s death.
He was perfectly fine when Esteban and I left him! ”
He pauses, probably expecting more of a reaction.
“I think Marjorie killed him!” he finally blurts.
If it was just Esteban, we might’ve questioned his judgment. But now Viktor’s saying the same thing. Kiran gives me a worried look.
“You don’t believe me?” Viktor says, offended. “I’m serious!”
“We believe you. Esteban said the exact same thing. If I could just see the body before they cremate him, I could…”
“No!” three voices interrupt at once.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Then we stick to our original plan. I’ll go to the Palace and gather evidence.”
“But you’re off-duty next week,” my brother reminds me.
“Officially. But let’s say Salvatore—who’s covering—gets called out to the highlands, and I just happen to be at the sports center that day. I’d be the closest to respond if something happened at the Palace, right?”
“How would we get word to you?” Esteban asks. “The gym only plays music. It doesn’t monitor channel 3.”
“You’re right. We’ll say you ran into me that morning outside the building, and you insisted they come get me in person. Takes a bit longer, but it’ll work.”
“What kind of proof would even confirm our suspicions about Marjorie?” Esteban wonders.
“It’s not about Marjorie anymore,” Viktor says, fired up. “It’s the whole Palace! We’ve seen their corruption for months—Vassili and all his cronies. It’s time to bring them down.”
“That won’t be enough,” Kiran says thoughtfully. “They’ve got weapons—and they’re willing to use them. We’ve known that for a while. But they also have powerful allies.”
“Allies? Like who?” Viktor frowns.
“Like me,” Prax announces as he walks into the room.
Viktor turns white and bolts toward the door.
“Stop! He’s with us!” Kiran yells.
Viktor freezes, turns, and stares at Prax with a mix of fear and fascination.
We explain how Prax ended up here, and what we’ve learned about the presence of other non-human beings on Mars—linked directly to the Palace.
“If that’s true, we don’t stand a chance,” Viktor says miserably.
“I need access to the Palace,” Prax says.
“As I told Kiran, I believe it was built on the original terraforming base. That’s always how it’s done.
A main unit is installed to manage the process, and depending on the planet’s size, it might contain a dozen or more rooms. Add-ons come later.
If the Palace is what I think it is, there’s a long-range comms processor inside.
I sent a distress call before I crashed, but I don’t know if it went through, given the state of my ship right before it sank under the ice. I need to send another.”
“And what happens then? How long will it take?” Esteban asks.
“Let’s get something straight. You Humans have been incredibly sheltered.
You’re idealistic and peaceful—which is good—but also na?ve, and that’s dangerous.
The Intergalactic Confederation doesn’t intervene in domestic disputes.
It’s your job to fix your own mess. Akifumi will send someone to get me, that’s almost certain.
But he won’t solve your little power struggles.
The Confed gave you a second chance—this planet, some tools, a warning not to repeat the same mistakes.
But people without empathy or morals? You’ll always have them.
It’s up to you to protect your community and enforce your own rules.
Your neighbor’s not going to clean up your garbage for you. ”
We sit in silence, absorbing his words. Is he right? Have we been acting like helpless children, waiting for someone else to fix things?
“So what do you recommend, oh wise feline?” Kiran asks sarcastically.
Prax bares his teeth in a displeased hiss—completely lost on my brother.
“If you put as much energy into fighting them as you do into teasing me, we’d be halfway there already. You peace-loving Humans are going to have to set aside your values and prepare for war. That is, if you actually want change. Otherwise, you can just keep being passive little victims.”
“Chill, Furball. We get it. No one here is going to let those murderers walk free. Cat’s honor! But since we’re new to this kind of situation, we humbly ask your advice, oh mighty and majestic Sadjim!”
I can’t help smiling. Despite the gravity of the moment, a kind of playful bond has formed between my brother and my feline houseguest.
Even Viktor and Esteban look stunned by their back-and-forth.
“First,” Prax says, “you need a headcount. How many on the bad side, how many on yours. Then list the non-combatants—the sick, the kids, anyone who’ll need protection. Next, you’ll need a way to meet in secret and plan your response.”
“What kind of response?” Esteban asks. “They have weapons. We don’t. None of us are killers.”
“I am,” Prax says bluntly. “Ask Neela. She’s seen me hunt. I’m a carnivore, a predator. I can’t live on seeds like you do. I chase my meals. But there’s a difference between killing to eat and killing an intelligent being—even a malicious one. The Confed has prisons for that sort of thing.”
“Then maybe… you could handle it for us?” Viktor suggests. “Neutralize them?”
“Absolutely not. I can’t take on armed Humans by myself. But I can help you build a solid plan and guide you. Just don’t kid yourselves—you’re going to have to get your hands dirty.”
I wrinkle my nose, and Prax smirks. He knows I hate violence. But I remember a phrase I once read: If you want peace, prepare for war.
Looks like we’ve run out of other options.