Manipulated

Pilar was helping one of the new techs navigate a roadblock when Nicola pulled her away, shaking two containers of salad. “Lunch time, lady,” the older woman said, nodding her head toward her private office.

The two settled in, Nicola not bothering to shield her desk from the food, and Pilar winced as a dressing-drenched bit of arugula splattered on the wood. “I can’t believe they let you have such nice stuff when you abuse it so,” she said, using a napkin to clean it up.

The mentor emitted a fake laugh dripping in sarcasm, then went back to eating. “Speaking of,” she said between chews, “have I got something to tell you. Wait…have you spoken to Twyla lately?”

Pilar nearly choked on the bite in her mouth. “Why does abuse make you think of Twyla?”

Nicola shook her fork around in time with her head. “No, no, no. The nice stuff comment made me think about the person onboard who gets the nicest stuff. I asked about Twyla in case you’d already talked to her this morning and she told you.”

The younger woman gently placed her fork in the container, careful not to make a mess as her mentor had. She smoothed the fabric of her pants, her eyes cast downward. “I haven’t heard from Twyla at all since that day we tried to go to the hex wing.”

“Those drama queens, I swear,” Nicola said, rolling her eyes. “Well, anyway, the head hex is gone.”

Pilar snapped her eyes up. “What?”

“Right?” the mentor said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “You know how they are; I’m sure there’s much more to the story, but we’ll never hear it.”

The crunching of the leaves between the older woman’s teeth was barely audible over Pilar’s pounding heart. She’d lost her appetite; her stomach heaved. But she forced herself to smile and continue eating.

“When you do speak to Twyla next, see if you can find out anything more, yeah?”

Pilar nodded, though she knew that day would never come. “Yeah.”

The women ate in silence until Nicola finished. Pilar closed her container, hoping her mentor hadn’t noticed how much was left untouched.

“Anyway, I’ll let you know who the new head is when I find out. I’m assuming they’ll promote from those already onboard, but they could always bring a seasoned one in from another ship; the Renicoff is quite the beast to control. Either way they’ll probably bring on a new hex–head or otherwise. Probably not anytime soon; I don’t think we’re scheduled to connect with another ship for months.” Though Nicola spoke the words aloud, they came as a stream of consciousness, more for herself than for Pilar.

Still, the younger woman nodded and murmured her acknowledgement of the information, her eyes unfocused. Then a slap on the desk brought her attention back.

“Actually, I’ll have you speak to Twyla today. Her DNA sample got contaminated somehow; I’d like you to swab her again. With the head gone, I’m sure I can get her released from her confinement early, at least for this.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“This should be interesting.”

Pilar swallowed the urge to tell the voice to be quiet as she watched the woman tap on the communicator wrapped around her wrist.

“She didn’t know,” she breathed. “She really didn’t know they hurt Twyla.”

Nicola continued tapping the communicator, her eyes glued to it. “What’s that?” she said when she finished, finally looking up. “Did you say something?”

“No.” Pilar gripped her chair, staring at the woman, who cocked her head to the side in response.

“Are you–” The words were cut short as Nicola turned her attention to her wrist. “Ah, she’ll be here in just a few. Now,” she said, clapping her hands and smiling at Pilar, “make sure you get her to tell you all the juicy gossip about the hex highjinx. I have to go yell at Allen again.”

Nicola guided Pilar out of the office and back into the lab. The older woman did indeed make a beeline for the tech who seemed to always fumble even the simplest tasks. Pilar, however, stood pressed against the wall, her arms folded into a tight hug. She scanned the lab, the several techs working diligently on both Trims and Crispy, the flammables cabinet, the minus-seventy freezer, the nanobots cabinet, and finally, the door.

Twyla could appear right here, right in the middle of the lab, but she wouldn’t. She always followed the rules. She’d use her powers to deposit herself in the hallway, and use her biometric data to log her entrance. She was the best of us, Pilar thought, sucking her lips in an attempt to hold back her tears.

The door slid open.

And there stood Twyla.

It was a good thing Pilar was standing against the wall; even with its support, she nearly fell over. “Twyla?” she stammered, pushing herself off, gripping a counter as she made slow steps toward the girl.

A grin blossomed upon the girl’s face, her eyes squinting. “I’ve been in that freaking candlelight too long,” she laughed. “It’s too bright in here now! Pilar, is that you?” she teased, waving her hands about as if testing for an impediment.

Pilar released a strangled noise somewhere between a sob and laugh and lurched toward the girl, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

“I…can’t…breathe,” Twyla gasped.

“Sorry!” Pilar barked, releasing the girl only to grip her head instead, feeling the soft auburn locks, knowing she was really here, really alive. “Are you okay?”

She hadn’t noticed Nicola’s approach, but it was the woman who answered. “I told you she was okay, you dodo. Since when do you not trust me?” Her words were light; she didn’t mean anything by them. And yet, they pierced Pilar’s heart.

She glanced between the girl and her mentor. The girl who was perfectly fine. The mentor who had not lied to her.

And she had killed the head hex because she had believed otherwise.

No.

Because she had been told otherwise.

“Florence?” she whispered, recognizing the darkness that had corrupted her from within for the first time. She knew then that she had killed her friend without cause, too.

Nicola looked at her questioningly, but Twyla looked concerned. “Twyla,” the girl said, patting her own chest, thinking Pilar had mistaken her for the blond woman long dead.

The two exchanged glances, and Pilar knew what was coming.

More questions.

More concerns.

“I have to go,” she said, pushing past them. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As she ran toward her room, knowing they were watching her, the voice followed.

“You never did have a mind of your own, Pilar. So easily influenced. So easily manipulated.”