Chapter 35 The Maintenance Man, Eve
THE MAINTENANCE MAN, EVE
The High Table glows like a shrine, Sovereign Rafe rises like an Imperial god, and we all feel it and stop talking immediately.
“Staff of the Celestial Spire. Our first guests have begun arriving for the Grand Championships, and already you all are performing exceptionally well. I expect you to keep it up.”
Then his silver gaze lands on me. “Particularly our human liaison, Eve Eden, who has begun processing the human competitors in accordance with the new IGC guidelines. For that, she has my thanks, and she is the reason the receptionist table has such fine wine tonight.”
When he says my name, I feel everyone’s eyes on me.
I want to disappear. I still feel sick for having to check-in the Imperial trainer and his slave earlier today.
She was such a beautiful human woman who had been dragged in, almost completely naked, with a collar.
And she hadn’t been allowed to speak to me in anything but Imperial.
And I had to talk to her as if I didn’t care, as if my heart wasn’t breaking into a thousand pieces at seeing her.
And now Rafe is honoring me for my cruelty.
I stand and muster a look of gratitude. “I don’t deserve your praise, Sovereigns.
” Then I bow. They raise their glasses and I raise mine, making eye contact, then we drink.
I can’t help but think about the number of times I have stood here and drank something else they gave to me in a different goblet.
Inwardly, I question myself how drinking their semen publicly felt more right than this.
The wine is dark, rich, a mouthful of ripe fruit laced with spice. It’s delicious, better than anything I’ve ever tasted, but that makes me hate it even more.
The hall ripples with small applause as I set the glass down empty and then sit down to try to stop the room from spinning.
Lira leans close, refilling my glass before I can object. “This is an honor, Eve. At least have another. It’s a Reima Two vintage, so expensive that only the Sovereigns would drink it on an ordinary night like this.”
“I’ve already had one glass,” I say.
“I don’t think you understand. You and I may never have wine like this again. You need to have at least two glasses.”
I can’t say no to Lira. She’s my only friend, and she’s done so much for me that I accept another glass of wine. And my eyes wander back up to the High Table, to Rafe and Lorian. Their eyes are on me. Watching me to see if I’m going to break.
And I am wondering the same thing myself. How many humans will I have to see brought in on leashes before I lose my mind?
Again, I think of my shift when I checked in an Imperial trainer and his collared human, forcing myself to ask if his “Starshine” understood the risks of competing.
But I broke protocol and looked her in the eye when I asked the question—and Starshine agrees to the risks involved in the Championships?
It angered the trainer, but Lorian has taught me that, with the Ascendant Alliance behind me and just by being human, I can play by a different set of rules than everyone else, and because humans are new to the galaxy as “free people,” I will set the standard.
So that’s what I’m doing, or rather, the little I can do. It’s the only way I might be able to survive this with my sanity intact.
But in the end, I know that I’m no different from the naked collared humans. I’m performing too. Smiling, bowing, drinking what I’m given, while humans are paraded here to die for spectacle. The Commander on the Igo and Cal said I could make a difference, but I feel chained to the Sovereigns.
Lorian rises and ends the High Table with a prayer.
As Lira and I walk out together, I tell her, “I’m required to go to maintenance for an environmental check at Fifth Chime. Is that odd?”
“Maintenance works all hours, so I shouldn’t think so. It’s inconvenient for you though.”
I don’t tell her I find it difficult to sleep thinking about all the human pets in the hotel. But her answer makes me feel better about the maintenance check. I don’t want to be abducted. So we say goodnight and part ways at our respective doors.
The maintenance level hums with machinery, and the air smells of metal and oil as I walk through corridors I’ve never seen before, following the glowing arrows along the wall until I reach a narrow service tunnel marked with warning glyphs about atmospheric testing.
A man waits there in Celestial Spire coveralls with tools at his belt. He has grey skin and black hair like the Reima Two men I see every day, but something in the way he holds himself is different.
“Madame Eve, thank you for meeting me. I didn’t know if you’d come.
We’ve been trying to get a message through to you for weeks, but security has been tight.
But when Cal reached out, we knew the window was open.
That kind of access doesn’t happen by accident,” he says, and the sound of his words shocks me so much, I nearly drop to my knees.
My translator clicked off. He’s speaking English, rough but clear, with an accent stretched over words I haven’t heard in months. And he mentioned Cal.
“I’m Huck. I work for Terra Ka. Do you know what that means?”
Oh Jesus. I glance back down the tunnel to make sure we’re alone. My mouth is dry. “Yes,” I say.
Everyone at the Spire talks about Terra Ka like they are terrorists.
Noticing my fear, he says, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to offer you a choice. During the Grand Championships, we can get you out. You and some of the other human pets. Real freedom. Not this gilded cage.”
Freedom. The word is like a beautiful advertisement to a tropical paradise I’ll never be able to afford.
“I have a kind of freedom here,” I say, but at the same time I’m picturing myself at the reception desk, smiling for Imperials while humans with collars are led into the arena.
“Gael the Returner sent me himself to offer you this opportunity,” Huck says. “He knows what they’ve done to you. Fitting you with a Venus Lock to subject you to their very own kind of human training. It’s torture.”
I don’t deny it. It is a kind of torture, but I don’t want to tell him that I also enjoy certain aspects of it. So instead, I say:“I signed a contract. I can go home when it ends.”
“No, they’ll never let you leave. You’re too valuable to them.
I mean, just look at you. A beautiful, young, intelligent human woman who suffers here because it’s less suffering than you did on Earth.
” His voice softens. “Yes, we know about your difficult childhood. And the Sovereigns know too; that’s why you were chosen.
But listen, Eve. We can offer you real freedom, something you’ve never had. ”
I stare at him. A part of me knows he’s right. “But what do you want from me in return?” I ask. I doubt they’ll be that concerned with saving me when there are going to be hundreds of humans actually suffering here in a few weeks.
Something small passes from his hand to mine. I look down. It’s a vial no bigger than a tube of lip gloss; the liquid inside gleams faintly silver.
“What is this?”
“Poison. One touch will kill an Imperial. Spread it on your lips. When they kiss you, they’ll die. Imagine it, Madame Eve. Two of the most powerful men in the galaxy brought down by you. No more Grand Championships. And think of all the humans you will save.”
My knee-jerk reaction is, I can’t kill them. But I don’t say that; instead, I correct him. “I’m not having sex with them, and they don’t kiss me. It’s just the Venus Lock and the—”
“Devotional Drink,” he supplies. “And you’re not having sex yet, but you know, and I know, you could change that, and the last night of the Championships would be a convenient time to do it.”
“I think you misunderstand. I don’t know how I would even get physical with the Sovereigns. They’re in control of everything. The Venus Lock even has a tracker on it. They know I’m here now. They might even be listening to our conversation.”
“I didn’t meet you here just because it’s private.
The Starlight Array can’t hear us or see us right now because I’m using a scrambler.
And their sensors won’t register it as a problem for another eight minutes down here.
Make no mistake, we aren’t terrorists; we’re a movement that wants to see humans free in the galaxy, and every year we grow stronger. But still, no human like you—”
“Like me?”
“Clever, beautiful, and influential. No woman like you, has ever been in a position like yours before. You must take it and use it—for all of us.”
I clutch the vial so strongly my fingers go numb. “Killing them won’t stop the Championships. They’ll just move them to another venue, and then someone else will run them.”
“No,” Huck says. “If the Sovereigns can be killed, then anyone can be killed for running the Championships. It would send a clear message that Terra Ka is gaining more strength than anyone ever thought possible, and it would frighten those who still keep humans as slaves.”
Is he right?
I don’t know, but I can’t imagine killing them. I can’t even imagine leaving them. Jesus, I’m a terrible person. “I… I don’t know. Is there anything else I can do? Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to stay in this position? Then I can save more humans.”
Huck’s dark eyes hold mine. “Yes. You’re a receptionist. You see everything.
You have access to guest rosters, shuttle logs, training assignments, and human schedules.
Terra Ka needs that information. Which trainers are arriving when.
Which ships come and go. Where the humans are being kept.
Their rooms. Their hours. Every scrap of detail you can slip to us makes it easier to extract humans when the time comes. ”
“And if I can’t do either of these things?”
“Then you’ve sacrificed humans who could have been saved for your own comfort… for as long as you’re safe, that is.”
Huck presses something else into my palm, a small device no larger than a crystal. “Hide this,” he says. “Use it when you’re alone to pass us what you can. Rosters. Shuttle logs. Anything you can.”
“I’ll try.”
Huck nods. “I’ve seen your work. You know your way around the Spire’s firewalls better than most techs I’ve met. Impressive for a human who has only been here a few months.”
I absently touch the translator in my head that allows me to learn and retain knowledge like a superhuman. “It’s from training with Sovereign Rafe. He wanted me fluent in the Celestial Spire’s systems.”
“Because he can’t fathom his human employee would betray him again. Be careful. You’re in deeper than you realize,” he says, and we both know it means so much more. He’s judging me for not wanting to kill the Sovereigns.
“I spend most days with the Sovereigns. I’d say I have a good grasp of what they can and cannot fathom when it comes to me.”
He nods his head, almost like an apology. “Just remember—no matter what the Sovereigns tell you, you’re on our side.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” I say, not wanting to commit to Terra Ka or the Sovereigns.
“Just wait until you see the first human competitor die in the Championships as the crowd cheers,” he motions to the crystal in my pocket. “Then you come back and tell me whose side you’re on.”
I can’t answer him because he might be right.
He nods as if he’s called my bluff. “I’ll be in touch.” Huck turns to leave but then pauses at the mouth of the tunnel. “One last thing, if the Sovereigns didn’t already know you were here, I’d be dead, and you’d be on your knees by now. Remember that.”
I say nothing as I watch him walk into the darkness of a maintenance tunnel.
I am in a world of trouble here.
I understand the game now. Terra Ka wants me to defect cleanly, to hand them proof that resistance works. The Sovereigns want me to stay inside the lines they’ve drawn, to betray them in the way they’ve already accounted for. Both sides think they’re the ones holding the leverage.
Both sides are wrong.
If I refuse Terra Ka, they’ll escalate and someone else will pay for my hesitation.
If I follow the Sovereigns’ script, I help them destroy a resistance that might actually free humans.
So I will do neither.
I will give Terra Ka enough truth to act, but not enough to control the outcome. And I will give the Sovereigns exactly what they expect to see, but nothing more.
I won’t escape this trap. But I will step into this with my eyes wide open, and in the end, I will decide who falls and who doesn’t.
I pull the crystal from my pocket. It’s smaller than a fingernail, pulsing faintly with Terra Ka code.
I take a deep breath, once I do this, there is no going back.
But I will not allow myself to be manipulated.
I find the nearest terminal, slot the crystal in, I assume this area is safer than most—Huck wouldn’t have chosen it otherwise.
Once the terminal becomes active, I open the uplink Rafe showed me last week—the “secure guest archive,” he called it.
Rafe’s voice echoes in my head: Firewalls aren’t walls. They’re habits.
I quickly route Huck’s data packet through the internal uplink, the same one Rafe insisted I use. I begin to swear as the terminal blinks with a silver crest for half a second—then clears, like it was never meant to stop me.
The transmission window closes, and I look at my reflection in the terminal, now blank. I look fine, calm and professional. Exactly what the Sovereigns trained me to be.
As I walk back toward the staff corridors, an old story surfaces uninvited into my mind.
Judas. The blood money, thirty pieces of silver.
The kiss that marked his teacher for death.
I was raised to believe that betrayal is always singular, always personal, always evil.
But that isn’t how power works. Judas wasn’t feared because he betrayed Christ. He was useful because he was close, trusted, and already trapped inside the Jesus’ story.
Someone always needs a traitor so the rest can remain righteous. If the Sovereigns fall, it won’t matter who struck the blow. I will be the human who stood closest. I will be the explanation they choose.
That’s the part I understand now. Guilt isn’t assigned by truth. It’s assigned by convenience. And knowing that won’t stop me—but it does mean I refuse to call myself a martyr or a monster.
Because I’m not here to be redeemed or sacrificed. I’m here to decide what happens next.