Chapter Eighteen #3
The camera wobbled as the aircraft circled an area where a lake sparkled in the violet sunlight.
Beside it, an oval-shaped field edged with silver-barked trees swayed in the wind.
As the jet hovered and lowered its altitude, a mass of magenta pynaz flowers battled against the artificial gusts the engines emitted.
My stomach dropped thinking of the pynaz flowers filling the vases in the hotel foyer. They were rare, even on Quoram. It was impossible to grow them aboard a space station. Botanists had failed to recreate the perfect environment. But if Zuli’s team had been experimenting in the Nova Valley…
Torz’s gaze met mine, and I saw the realisation flash in his eyes.
Trying to control my heavy breaths, I watched with dread as the cameraman angled the lens away from the window and into the jet’s cargo hold.
A person wearing the standard bright-orange jumpsuit of a Puran prison inmate sat on their knees with their wrists clasped behind their back; feet bare.
A tightly woven harness encircled their upper body.
I drowned out Zuli’s words while the cameraman walked around the prisoner as the harness straps were attached to a rig on the hull’s ceiling.
The prisoner looked up, and Torz tensed beside me.
With duct tape across their mouth, the individual had visible bruises scaling down their left cheek and neck.
But even though their hair was cut haphazardly short, skimming their scalp and showing bloodied nicks, the face was clearly that of a middle-aged woman.
The two military personnel detaining her wore heavy-duty spacesuits and helmets to avoid air contamination—no doubt the cameraman did, too. But the woman was left exposed to Quoram’s elements.
The landing ramp at the back of the aircraft opened, and a silvery light brightened the frame. From the way the wind pelted the fabric of the prisoner’s jumpsuit, it was clear the jet was still hovering. I couldn’t tell how high.
When the rig began to extend along the ramp, taking the prisoner with it, fear flashed in the woman’s eyes. She desperately attempted to free herself from her restraints. But within seconds, she was outside the jet and being lowered to the ground by the rigging connected to her harness.
From above, the camera’s view followed her down, recording as her bare feet touched the surface and she collapsed to the ground.
In mere seconds, visible steam hissed from her skin.
And then the screaming started. Even through the duct tape, it was a harrowing, piercing scream that filled me with a deep, haunting anxiety.
The distressing sound seemed to drag on for minutes, but the digital clock ticking away at the corner of the screen confirmed it had been a matter of seconds.
The screen split in half, and a graph appeared, showing an impressive peak in a line. I didn’t give a fuck about that line.
Zuli’s proud expression turned back to the room, addressing more questions, and I glared at the interested arseholes.
Their callousness sickened me. And to think if Zuli’s manifesto got voted in, she wouldn’t stop at using Puran prisoners.
She’d use innocent children in order to obtain her dual purpose of preserving the energy field and ridding the Orbital Civilisation of the Puran people.
How could these highly regarded officials not think Governor Dix’s refinery proposal more feasible? It was the only moral suggestion.
“As you can see”—Zuli’s voice floated over the urgent hushed tones of the audience—“the death is swift. By utilising the Puran population, their numbers will decrease over time, giving us the freedom to flatten the obsolete biodomes on Pura and rebuild thriving cities in their wake. Our energy source will be replenished, and our homes will be safe.”
The room exploded with more excited questions.
“It won’t work.” The quiet voice next to me made me jump. I hadn’t realised anyone was sitting in the spare seat beside me. I glanced towards the male voice, gasping as shock overtook my disgust.
“I hope it doesn’t work.” Long silver hair glistened in the glow of the large screen. His ethereal eyes fixed ahead with a prominent icy sneer. I’d never seen the Damson God looking so angry, but then again, he usually appeared in my dreams…
Wait? Why is he here? Am I imagining him? Again?
His purple eyes snapped my way, his strong jaw set like stone. “I will not allow this woman to litter my world with undesirables,” he spat. “I decide who injects my planet with their essence, not her.”
Blinking back my confusion, I looked to Zuli, then to the screen behind her. The woman’s body had dissolved into the ground. Only tendrils of steam signified where she had lain—where she’d been murdered.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my trousers, I glanced back at the Damson God, but the seat was now empty.
Shit, this is all fucking with my head.
But as my confused and disturbed mind ached with a new tension, I looked to Torz sitting on the other side of me. My heart jolted when I found his chair empty.
As I frantically searched the aisle for him, I caught sight of the door sliding shut at the back of the auditorium. And I knew—he’d already left.