“Life is unfair; but sometimes, when the stars align just so, it can be unfair in our favor.”

—Ald Hraseran, in his non-fiction book, Proverbs and Parables from Across the Stars

Zaina leaned against the wall of her cramped metal cell. Her clothes had been taken from her. The gray shirt and pants she was given were made from rough, heavy fabric. How much time had passed—a day? Two?

There were no windows—the only furnishings she had were a wooden bucket and a paper-thin blanket made of scratchy material. Not that blankets or pillows would do her any good here; even with her legs tucked in, there wasn’t enough room to lie down.

When she passed out from exhaustion, she was sitting with her back pressed against the cold wall. The blanket barely covered her legs. Her entire body ached after the previous day’s events, and not being able to stretch it out only made things worse.

She woke to a loud rapping on the cell door. Startled, she yelped and jumped to her feet.

“Ah! What’s going on?”

A robotic voice answered from the other side of the door, “Prisoner 752-84-ZXQV-BT-34A, you have been designated for questioning. Please stand back from the door and present your wrists for binding.”

Zaina sighed and did as she was told, hanging her head. The door, one solid piece of metal, swung inward, nearly hitting her hands. A gray-and-black android waited on the other side with a pair of mag-cuffs, which were immediately used to bind her.

“Come with me,” the android said.

She grumbled, “Not like I have much of a choice, is it?”

“Audio sensors unable to process—”

“It’s nothing.”

The android turned without another word. Zaina followed right behind it, and two more androids tagged along to either side of her. All three carried birifles.

They walked through a narrow, windowless facility—every five feet, on every wall, was an identical door to the one from Zaina’s cell. The cells were stacked in columns, with metal walkways and stairs to navigate the complex. She glanced upward—the ceiling was out of sight. Just a wall of doors and skeletal metal framework.

The only sound was the clanking of the androids’ feet against the metal walkways. Zaina didn’t protest; as far as she was concerned, she belonged here.

But I do wonder what their questions are about.

At this point, it didn’t matter. Reida and her captain were probably long gone from Otmonzas. Whatever justice might have been had was gone with them.

I was the only one who could have stopped them.

Zaina winced. How could she let herself be deceived like that? Part of her was embarrassed for being tricked, and another part was spiteful toward Reida; but mostly, she felt guilt. How many people were dead because she wanted to get offworld faster? The thought tormented her.

After an hour of walking down stairs, they finally led Zaina to the bottom of the prison complex. The doors in this row were spread further apart and had large sections replaced with hyper-glass. Each room featured odd chairs with numerous restraints.

She sighed. I should’ve taken the three months at Hobst’s shop. That’d be nothing compared to this. And at least I’d have a bed at Sister Tyza’s. Plus, all those people might still be alive…

The androids led Zaina to one of the doors, which swung inward. Inside was the chair, which she was told to sit in. Metal restraints clamped down on her arms, legs, and torso to hold her in place; they tightened enough to constrain her breathing a little. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were two small desks with much more comfortable-looking chairs behind them. In the room’s center was a circular machine with a cylindrical metal apparatus extending upward.

The androids stood at attention. The middle one stepped forward and said, “Prisoner 752-84-ZXQV-BT-34A, please wait here. Do not attempt to escape.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

The androids turned and exited the room, and the door slammed shut behind them.

Zaina sighed as the seconds turned to minutes. Questioning, huh? Probably sentencing, too.

Part of her wanted to get all this over with. If the sentence was more than ten years, she’d die in a cell—Gir had told her she only had a decade to live. She didn’t see it being less than that.

After an agonizing hour of being completely unable to move, barely able to breathe, the door swung open once more. Two people—a human woman with medium-length brown hair tied in a bun and a Galdregarian with wet-looking green skin, bulbous black eyes, and a breathing mask covering the downward-hanging tentacles on their face, stepped in. They both wore identical black uniforms with tan stripes; the Galdregarian’s torso was covered, but their leg-tentacles weren’t.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The door slammed shut, and the interrogators sat at the desks to either side of the entrance. The human woman was stern-faced, with an unbending frown and focused brown eyes as she stared at Zaina; the Galdregarian’s tentacles went about pulling a keyboard from a drawer in their desk and turning it on.

The human said, “Prisoner 752-84-ZXQV-BT-34A. We’ll be referring to you by the name you gave the intake android: Zaina Quin.”

“That works for me,” she replied.

The woman nodded toward her partner and said, “This is Breli. They’ll be recording all your answers today, so think carefully before you speak.”

Breli waved one of their tentacles. Zaina nodded, the only movement she was able to perform.

“We’re here from the Otmonzas Superior Investigative Department to ask you some questions about the events that transpired two nights ago. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

Zaina nodded.

“Let’s get into it. I understand you’ve only recently come to Otmonzas.”

“Yeah,” Zaina replied. “I was attacked by pirates. Someone—I think he was a commander, his name was Royce Flitarik or something like that—helped me land.”

“I have the incident report right here,” the woman said. A hologram popped up from the machine at the center of the room—it hummed as it took the form of a document with tiny lettering. “The aggressor vessel was recognized as the Dauntless Heart, belonging to the pirate Captain Danjai Gres. Of whom’s crew your friend Reida Qarys is a member.”

“She’s not my friend,” Zaina replied.

“Of course not. She left you behind. So, tell me, Zaina Quin, where do you come from? Are you from the Condemned?”

“I’m from Demelia. My homeworld was destroyed. I was on my way to Kaado when I was attacked.”

The woman nodded. “That matches Commander Flitarik’s notes—citizenship of Demelia verified.”

Zaina blinked. “If you had the answer right there, why did you ask?”

“You aren’t in any position to ask questions,” the woman replied. “Now, what are the circumstances in which you found yourself when you arrived on Otmonzas?”

“I didn’t have anyone to go to,” she said. “I wandered around for a bit. I found a friend—Jveldaq was his name, and he seemed like a good person—but he was killed by androids. He had a community of people who needed help. The androids killed all of them.”

“Mhm. Now, is that what your friend Jveldaq told you?”

Zaina’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, it is.”

“I happen to have known him very well. Did you ever consider that—despite his heart being in the right place—his faculties were, well, no longer there? That perhaps he was wrong about whatever things he told you?”

“Then where are the people from that camp?”

The woman glared, as if debating whether or not to answer the question. “They’re in Otmonzas’s labor-rehabilitation program, where they’re being taken care of and fed and given a purpose through work. The program’s taken some hits, sure, but they do their best.”

It sounded exactly like what Zaina wanted to hear—so she didn’t trust it. “He was trying to help people, and those androids shot him down.”

“He threatened state equipment,” the woman shot back. “We don’t owe you any explanations.”

“I refuse to believe that was the best way to handle that.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” the woman replied icily. “Didn’t take you—given what you were involved with—for someone so vigilant in the defense of life.”

There was nothing Zaina could say to that.

“None of that is here nor there. Let’s move on,” the woman said. “You came into the acquaintance—and trust—of Reida Qarys during your stay. I want you to recount your involvement with her to me here and now—every meeting, everything she told you, everything you told her up to the point that she abandoned you. I need as much detail as you can give. I’ll interject if I have any questions. Understood?”

Zaina nodded and relayed the entire story to the woman, leaving nothing out. To her surprise, the woman heard her out without interrupting, pointing every so often toward Breli, often during important points of the story. When it was over, Zaina was dizzy—her shallow breaths weren’t giving her lungs enough air, and she’d spent the better part of twenty minutes talking.

The restraints loosened—Zaina gasped down a huge breath, wondering what the reason was for her relief.

The woman tilted her head. “All right.”

“All right?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Zaina sighed. “All right what?”

“Well,” the woman said, rubbing her chin, “you’re a lot of things, Zaina. Naive. Reckless. Protective. But, a liar you are not.”

“Of course I’m not,” she replied. “Why would I lie at this point?”

“The point is,” the woman replied, “everything you’ve told me has matched the evidence we’ve been able to gather. Footage, official documentation, recorded statements all line up with your story.”

“Okay, so?”

“So you’re culpable, at worst, for accessory to intentional murder on the lancer, plus numerous counts of destruction of private and government property, plus accessory to theft of private property and illegal breaking and entering. Not to mention aiding and abetting terrorism and insurrection. Add all that together, and you’re staring down multiple life sentences.”

Zaina gulped. I knew it.

The woman cleared her throat. “That being said, Chairman Bilvane, as well as the Otmonzas SID, are pragmatists. You indicated that your destination is Kaado, which matches up with Commander Flitarik’s notes. Kaado is fairly far from Otmonzas, and our world rarely, if ever, has business with them; Drel Ofran was the first lancer to come here in over fifty years, and that was only thanks to the generous donation Chairman Bilvane made to the Order of Riiva’s coffers to lure him here.”

“Drel Ofran?”

“The lancer who was killed.”

Zaina winced thinking about it. It made it worse to hear the Order of Riiva were basically non-profit mercenaries. “I—I wish I’d been able to save him.”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that,” the woman replied, “but there may yet be a way to atone, at least in the eyes of our government: there are instances where, in the stead of a normal sentence, we grant an individual the option of banishment. Seeing as you don’t have a ship, we’d be willing to allow a work release for you to continue working at Hobst’s shop for the necessary three months. You’ll have a compliance officer, of course, and we’ll regularly be checking up on you to make sure you’re not up to no good again. Then, once you’re able, you’ll leave Otmonzas and never return.”

It sounded harsh, but that was actually perfect for Zaina. “Wait—you mean—”

“There’s only one caveat,” the woman said. “You might want to think before you accept. We would be willing to sentence you to a work-order delayed banishment under the right circumstances. So, Zaina, tell me—if you were to be banished, would you still choose to go to Kaado?”