Page 46 of Stalker

The massive holoscreen flickers with pre-race stats and odds. Its blue glow bathes the plaza in ethereal light, making everyone look slightly alien. Perfect conditions for a disguised half-reaper to blend in.

A tall figure in a hooded cloak catches my eye. My heart skips, but it's just another vakutan. The collar in my hand pulses with a gentle warmth, reminding me of what I stand to lose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Imperial Hover Racing Championship will begin in thirty minutes," the announcer's voice booms across the plaza.

My father will make his appearance soon. The thought churns my stomach. I scan the crowd again, focusing on anyone Bruticus's height. There's a group of merchants, a couple of dock workers, a maintenance tech adjusting his cap-

The maintenance tech's movements are too fluid, too controlled.

My fingers brush the collar. Its steady warmth confirms what my heart already knows. But before I can move closer, a surge of people pushes between us. When they clear, the maintenance tech is gone.

"Has anyone seen a maintenance worker?" I ask the nearest spectator. "Tall guy, just went that way?"

The lizardlike being just blinks at me with all four eyes.

The holoscreen strobes with a test pattern, casting strange shadows across the plaza. Somewhere in this sea of bodies, Bruticus is hunting my father. And I'm hunting him, desperate to prevent a tragedy that will destroy us both.

A flicker of movement draws my gaze upward. Ten stories up, a cloaked figure stands at the edge of the Centauri Commerce building. The shape and height match Bruticus perfectly. My heart leaps into my throat.

The figure raises one hand, beckoning me to follow, then steps back from the ledge and vanishes.

"Wait!"

I push through the crowd, ducking under elbows and dodging shopping bags. The service entrance has to be around here somewhere. There - a maintenance door tucked between two waste disposal units.

The door squeaks as I pull it open. Stale air and the scent of machine oil fill my lungs. My footsteps echo in the narrow stairwell as I take the steps two at a time.

Ten flights later, my legs burn and my chest heaves. The roof access door stands ajar, letting in a slice of artificial sunlight. I pause to catch my breath, my fingers wrapped around the collar in my pocket. Its temperature hasn't changed - no warmer than my own skin.

The figure stands with their back to me, dark cloak rippling in the station's recycled breeze. Hope wars with doubt in my chest.

"Bruticus?"

"Not quite." The voice that answers is definitely not his.

The cloak falls away, revealing red scales that shimmer in the artificial light. A female vakutan stands before me, her golden eyes narrowed.

"Detective Vorpa Thux. Your boyfriend and I had an arrangement."

"He's not my-" The words stick in my throat. What is Bruticus to me now?

"We were working together to expose Commander Daniels's criminal enterprise."

"Criminal enterprise? My father runs station security. He keeps people safe."

"Is that what you believe?" Her scaled lips curl into something between a smile and a sneer.

"He did his best at Rakura IV. The situation was impossible."

"Impossible?" Vorpa's tail lashes. "The situation was manufactured. Your father orchestrated-"

"No. You're wrong about him." My fingers clench around Bruticus's collar. "He's a good man."

Vorpa stares at me for a long moment, her golden eyes unblinking. The air from the hvac system whips her cloak around her legs.

"Come with me if you want to know what really happened." She takes a step closer. "But know that the truth which is a lie will cause more pain than the lie which is the truth."

My hands press against my temples, trying to squeeze out the doubts that have taken root. The truth can't be worse than this uncertainty eating away at me. Can it?

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