Colony Assassin: The Elderon Chronicles, #3

By Tarah Benner

Maverick Enterprises has been reduced to rubble. Mordecai has fled from Earth. He's ensconced himself in a galactic fortress and surrounded himself with an army of bots.

When Jonah is framed for the attack on Maverick, Maggie must go to Elderon alone. She is determined to clear Jonah's name and stop Mordecai's reign of tyranny, but a stowaway on board the space station has her own ideas. Even worse, the US military is plotting an attack — one that could kill everyone on Elderon.

To save the colony, Maggie and Tripp will forge a controversial alliance, and Jonah will make a choice that could have permanent consequences. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tarah Benner
• Release date: Sep 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393186021

Book preview

1

Jonah

The silence of Ziva’s office seems to swallow us whole. The sunlight beating through the huge windows beside her desk is intense, and I feel myself starting to sweat.

Mordecai is on Elderon with his army of bots. He’s exactly where he wanted to be — holding his sister hostage — while Maggie and I are stuck on Earth.

I turn to Maggie. Her face is pale, and her knuckles are white on Ziva’s desk. She looks as though she might throw up. I am reeling with regret.

Mordecai played us like a master manipulator. Every step we’ve taken since we landed on Earth has been part of Mordecai’s plan. He sent us to Vault with Jared to gain access to the company’s data. He tricked Maggie into leading us to Maverick headquarters while he was headed back to Elderon on his own private shuttle. It was the perfect diversion that allowed him to escape and claim a new seat of power.

Moved by the rage simmering in my gut, I start walking toward the office door.

Where are you going? Maggie chokes. She looks lost — completely blindsided.

We need to get out of here, I say, feeling the urgency building inside me. "Mordecai has the bot Ziva designed in their father’s memory. If she believes that bot is her father, she’ll do whatever Mordecai asks. I take a deep breath. We have to get to Elderon."

Maggie nods. She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t ask how. She can feel that same sense of urgency that’s been aching in my bones ever since we crawled out of the wreckage of Maverick Enterprises.

From the moment I knew Maggie was going to be okay, I’ve had this feeling that the walls are closing in around me. I was the one who caused that explosion. I brought down the Maverick building. Van de Graaf may have been part of the plan, but I’m the one who pressed the button.

Zuni Monroe is dead, and I don’t know if the other founders survived. The feds will be looking for me. Mordecai has made a grab for power. I have to get back to Elderon and stop him.

As I storm down the hallway of BlumBot, I can feel the emptiness pressing in on all sides. It’s like being crushed under a thousand feet of water. I can feel the invisible weight compacting my lungs, and I feel as though I’m running out of air.

The building is eerie in its abandoned stillness. Every move we make creates a sound that reverberates off the freshly painted walls. I can hear the chug of the air conditioner working to keep cool air circulating around the hundreds of unoccupied desks. I can sense the cold machine of the tech economy driving on in the background — heedless of the human tragedy swirling in Silicon Valley.

Where to? asks Maggie, thundering down the stairs toward the lobby. I can tell she’s fighting the hard pull of exhaustion. Her body is beaten — completely spent — but there’s no time to rest.

Vandenberg, I huff. It’s the only place we can catch a shuttle back to the colony.

"How?"

She doesn’t say it, but I know what she’s thinking. Every law-enforcement agency is going to be looking for us. The FBI is probably converging on the valley as we speak. Reaching the base and getting inside seems like an impossible task.

I don’t know yet.

It’s not as though we made a great impression the last time we were at Vandenberg. Colonel Sipps knew I abandoned my post, and we escaped Vandenberg while the base was on lockdown. Now I’m most likely wanted for my role in a bombing. If there is some galactic no-fly list, I’m definitely on it.

I burst through the doors of BlumBot International, and I’m immediately blinded by sunlight. I squint toward the street through the sharp beams of light just as something hits me from behind.

Oaaff!

I stumble, caught off guard, as the force of the impact flares through my ribcage. A second later, I feel hands on my shoulders and the hard smack of a wall as I’m thrown against the side of the building.

Maggie yells, but I can’t turn my head to look at her. All I can see is a blur of light and movement as someone smashes my face into the hot metal siding.

I hear the rumble of voices in the distance, and the sound of my name pulls me back to reality.

— under arrest for detonating an explosive device and the murder of Zuni Monroe.

The words crash against me like a rogue ocean wave. I can’t absorb the cold bite of reality. I can’t brace myself for the shock. I can only stand there and take it.

You have the right to remain silent . . . You have the right to an attorney . . .

The man’s words fade in and out. This doesn’t even seem real.

If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.

I open my mouth and close it again. My tongue feels as though it’s made of sandpaper.

A second later, the man pressing me against the wall grabs me by the arm and yanks my shoulder back in its socket. I feel the cold teeth of metal handcuffs scrape against my wrist as he locks on one cuff and gropes for my other arm.

Do you understand the rights I’ve just read you? he barks.

I don’t say a word. I don’t think I can. The side of my face is still being smashed into the hot metal surface of the building, and my throat is choked with fear.

I hear a noise nearby that sounds like Maggie, but I can’t turn my head to see if she’s being detained. The man shoves me harder into the wall, and a pang of indignant fury radiates through my stomach. "Do you understand?"

Yes, I groan. What do you even say to that? He didn’t ask if I objected. He just asked if I understood.

Suddenly the pressure against the side of my face lets up, and my skin stings as the cool breeze hits it.

Men and women in navy vests are swarming the building — local police, by the looks of them. Five cruisers with flashing lights are blocking the street, and a few dozen civilians have already gathered. There are at least six reporters among them. All record my arrest with their Optixes and watch as the officer steers me toward a cop car.

Across the street, my eyes latch on to a familiar face. It’s Jared’s boss, Zephyr Morgan — CEO of Vault. His all-black outfit and latex gloves would make him stand out anywhere, but it’s his white-blond hair that catches my attention. He’s leaning against a building on the other side of the road, sipping a latté as he watches the scene unfold.

Zephyr’s company manages the bots’ location data, as well as the information that forms their hive mind. He relinquished control of his data to Mordecai. He must have been the one to turn me in.

White-hot rage spills into my stomach and burns up my throat like bile. Right now, I feel as though I could break free from the officer restraining me. I could plow across the street and rip Zephyr to pieces before anyone could stop me. I could —

Jonah!

Maggie’s voice draws me back from the brink of insanity.

I look around. She’s surrounded by three police officers, and I see her head bobbing over their shoulders. She isn’t in handcuffs, but they’re holding her back. They must be trying to question her.

As I watch, her head disappears between two men in uniform. I hear the distress in her voice as she tries to break through the wall of officers, and I fight the man trying to fold me into the back of the cop car.

Jonah!

Suddenly everything slows down. The onlookers become a blur of flesh and light, changing in the colored glow of the sirens. Zephyr vanishes into the crowd, and I feel my anger dissipate.

It’s okay, I yell, trying to keep the darkness out of my voice.

Jonah! Suddenly, Maggie darts around two of the police officers and makes a break for the cruiser. She’s sprinting across the courtyard toward me, but the officer is still trying to shove me into the car.

Don’t do anything stupid, I call. Just wait for me to make bail. I’ll meet you back at the motel and —

Nice try, kid, rumbles the officer, pressing down on the top of my head. I continue to resist until my neck gives way and I feel myself falling sideways. He shoves me inside the police cruiser, which smells like puke and old fast food.

You blew up a building. You’re not goin’ anywhere.

The door immediately slams shut in my face, and I hear the garble of a voice coming through the radio. A beefy officer in uniform is sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting to take me away.

His partner climbs in a second later, and I see Maggie sprinting toward the car. Her wild curls fly behind her and then come to rest in a golden cloud. Her tank top is smeared with soot and dirt, and her sweater is hanging off one shoulder.

She meets my gaze with a look of terror just as a tiny gray snowflake skitters past my window. Flakes of ash are floating from the wreckage — from the building that I destroyed.

The last thing I see are Maggie’s eyes, bright with panic, as the police cruiser pulls away.

2

Maggie

I watch the car speed away in shock as the wind kicks up a fresh storm of ash. The sirens wail, and the crowd rumbles louder. It feels as though I just hit a brick wall.

Two minutes ago, Jonah and I were making a plan to stop Mordecai from taking over the space station. Now he’s gone, and I don’t know how to get him back.

Ma’am . . . Ma’am!

I wheel around and see one of the officers trying to get my attention. The one who spoke is a middle-aged man with a shiny bald patch and wire-rimmed glasses. So far it seems that I’m not getting arrested. They just want me to answer their questions.

What? I say blankly.

Your statement. His voice is grating. He’s growing impatient.

Jonah isn’t a terrorist, I snap. He didn’t kill Zuni Monroe. He was trying to save them from Mordecai Blum.

Let’s just stick to the facts, he says in a condescending voice. Let’s start with why you were at the Maverick building in the first place.

I feel a prickle of panic mixed with annoyance. At this moment, they’re hauling Jonah off to jail. Mordecai is on Elderon, and his bots are wreaking havoc. Every second I stand here is a waste of time.

I already told you! I say. Mordecai lured us to the Maverick building.

And why would he do that?

I let out a huff of air. There’s no time to explain.

Because he planned to blow up the building with us and the founders inside.

How do you know that?

I can tell by the officer’s tone that he doesn’t believe me, but the sooner I make him understand, the sooner he’ll let me leave.

Because the building was wired with explosives. I spoke to Tripp Van de Graaf, and he told us the bots rigged the building to explode. Mordecai was just using the founders to gain access to their systems. Once he got what he needed —

Tripp Van de Graaf? interrupts the officer. He’s staring at me over the rim of his glasses with an expression of profound disbelief.

Yes! I say in exasperation. Tripp Van de Graaf told us to get everyone out and bring the building down. We had to get rid of the bots, and —

"Tripp Van de Graaf told you to blow up the Maverick building? says the officer. His building?"

I roll my eyes in frustration. Why is this guy repeating everything I say? And why isn’t he writing this down?

Suddenly I realize how bad-shit crazy my story must sound. Tripp is the son of Strom Van de Graaf — founder and CEO of Maverick Enterprises. Tripp was at the top of USA Today’s list of the sexiest men alive — twice. He’s a celebrity and the heir to a massive fortune. As far as this officer is concerned, I’m just a crazy-eyed fangirl who crawled out of the wreckage.

Do you ever hear other voices? asks the officer.

No . . .

Just Tripp Van de Graaf’s?

Tripp isn’t some voice in my head, I growl. We know each other. I live on Elderon. We’re friends.

You live in outer space? The officer’s tone is neutral, but I can tell he thinks that I’m a head case.

Yes! My name is Maggie Barnes. I’m a reporter for the galactic press corps. I write under the name Layla Jones. I gesture to the officer’s Optix. Look me up!

And how did you come to be here on Earth?

We borrowed a spaceship.

From Tripp Van de Graaf?

Sort of . . .

That’s when I realize he’s just playing along. He doesn’t believe I know Tripp Van de Graaf any more than I believe the homeless lady outside my old building was abducted by aliens. He doesn’t believe anything except that I’m in desperate need of medication, and he’s trying to understand how I fit into all this.

I let out a growl of frustration. I’m never going to get anywhere if this guy won’t accept the basic premise of my statement. I can’t clear Jonah’s name if the police think that the chief witness who could corroborate my story is a figment of my imagination.

Look, I say, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. Why don’t you call Mr. Van de Graaf and ask him what happened. He’ll confirm my story.

Is this the Van de Graaf you hear in your head or the Van de Graaf whose body we uncovered in the rubble of the building Sergeant Wyatt blew up?

I let out a huff. "The live one, obviously."

Thank you, says the officer, closing his notebook and glancing at one of his colleagues with a let’s-get-the-hell-out-of-here sort of look. That’ll be all. I’ll give you a ping if we have any further questions.

I let out an exasperated cry. He doesn’t believe me. No one will. And unless Jonah can get a credible witness like Tripp to vouch for him, he’s going to be facing serious charges.

The Maverick board members all saw Mordecai murder Strom Van de Graaf, but they weren’t present for our conversation with Tripp about saving the founders and taking Mordecai’s bots out of commission. We’ll be lucky if the feds don’t try to spin Jonah’s crime into an act of terrorism.

Feeling panicky, I start walking back to where we parked the car. Nobody stops me. I suppose no one feels the need to detain the girl who hears celebrity voices. They think I’m crazy, but they don’t think I’m dangerous.

The fact that this street would normally be filled with tech workers going about their day is sobering. The aftermath of the attacks still hangs over the valley, and the curb is lined with police cruisers, fire trucks, and ambulances.

First responders are searching the wreckage for more survivors, and I get a kick of guilt when I remember Zuni Monroe’s hand reaching through the rubble. She died in there because she didn’t listen to Jonah, and I don’t know if Si Damm or Teegan Henley managed to escape.

When I think of Teegan, my chest contracts painfully. Teegan risked her life to save me from a bot. But I can’t let myself think about her now.

I’m so busy trying not to succumb to my dark spiral of thoughts that I circle the block twice before I find the Camry. It’s hidden under a blanket of soot, and my hand shakes a little as I brush the ash away.

I get the driver’s side window and half of the windshield cleared before remembering that Jonah had the key. I feel around in my pockets just to be sure, but they’re empty except for a balled-up gum wrapper and the back of one of my earrings.

I swear.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. I can feel the tears building up in my throat — tears of panic, frustration, and helplessness. My throat aches with the effort of keeping them at bay, and when a few tears leak out and trail down my face, I grit my teeth and let out a moan of defeat.

I pound on the window with the palm of my hand, still yanking on the handle like a total lunatic.

For the first time since I went to Elderon, I feel completely and hopelessly alone. I’m a continent away from my friends and family. I don’t have any connections here.

Reaching up with a shaky hand, I try to ping Jared to ask for a lift. He doesn’t answer. I swear loudly and ping him again, but all I get is his outgoing message. I try calling a car from my Optix, but the network must be jammed. I have no idea how to get back to the motel. I don’t have a friend in the world.

Stubborn tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I wipe them away with dirty hands. Tiny particles of ash are still floating through the air, and my throat feels parched and scratchy from the smoke.

Hot heavy tears are now streaming down my cheeks, and I stare at my haggard reflection, wishing I was somewhere else.

In this moment, I wish I was someone else. I wish I’d never joined the press corps — that I’d never gone to Elderon. I find myself yearning for my old life in New York when it was just me and Kiran against the world.

I don’t want to be a fake member of the Space Force. I don’t want to be in Mountain View with a deadly enemy in space. I don’t want the weight of the colony on my shoulders. I’m a journalist — not a soldier.

I just want to go back to my work — writing puff pieces and taking crap from Cliff. I want to go back to the days when my biggest worry was paying the rent, not thwarting a terrorist bent on destruction.

But then I think of Jonah, and something inside me shifts. I didn’t come here to get a story, and I didn’t come to save the world. I came to Earth because Jonah asked me to — because he wanted me by his side.

For whatever reason, Jonah believed in me, and I believed in him. That thought seems to knock some cowardly blockage loose, and suddenly I’m filled with strength. A surge of fresh determination flows through my bloodstream, warming my body from the inside out.

Jonah needs me. He’s in jail, and I have to get him out.

Fuck. My. Life.

Just then, I hear what sounds like my name drifting across the parking lot. It floats beneath the frequency of the sirens almost like a dream.

I look up. A compact car is cruising down the street at the speed of a slow bike. The passenger-side window is all the way down, and someone is shouting in an adorable British accent. I wipe my eyes with my dirty sleeve, and my heart nearly explodes.

It’s Jared driving the tiny toy car, and he’s trying to get my attention.

Maggie!

I let out a noise between a cry and a laugh. I don’t even care how I must look. I have no idea how Jared found me. His timing is miraculous.

I stumble drunkenly across the parking lot, still sure I must be dreaming. I open the door, completely speechless, and collapse into the seat.

How did you — But I really don’t care. I’m just so glad to see him.

I saw Jonah on the news, says Jared grimly, pulling a U-turn in the deserted street.

You did? My heart sinks. If Jonah’s on the news after everything that’s happened, that means that Jonah is the news.

Yeah . . . I got down here as fast as I could. They’ve blocked off most of the streets, but I found a way.

I look around. The car is small and spotlessly clean, and it has one of those no-smoking decals stuck to the dash. It must be a Go-Car — one of the instant rentals you can pick up anywhere and drive as long as you need.

Thanks, I say weakly as Jared turns to go back to the motel.

Don’t mention it. It’s lucky I found you, really . . . I was headed to the police station.

That’s where they’re taking Jonah. I swallow. You think they’ll let him post bail?

Jared glances over at me but doesn’t say a word. He’s a smart kid. He must know Jonah’s in deep, deep shit.

I close my eyes and rest my head against a seat that smells like orange-and-lemon cleaner. The smell is making me a little queasy, but I’m too exhausted to care.

After everything we’ve been through, Mordecai still managed to outsmart us. Coming to Earth was a complete waste of time. It only cleared his path to Elderon.

It’s my fault we ended up at Maverick. Mordecai planted that clue for me. If it weren’t for me, we never would have been there, and Jonah never would have blown up that building.

Then again, Mordecai might have killed all the founders if we hadn’t shown up. There’s no way we’ll ever know.

I get a swoop of gratitude for Jared as he silently maneuvers around the roadblocks. I think he can tell that I’m feeling overwhelmed, and he doesn’t bombard me with questions.

He drives us back to the little motel, and I feel a twinge of comfort when we pull into the parking lot. Something about the leaf-strewn pool and plastic lawn chairs exudes familiarity and reassurance. The room might smell like smoke and perfume, but at least it’s what you expect.

As I collapse onto the edge of the squeaky bed, a pang of exhaustion hits me. Jared unmutes the antique television, and the sound of the newscast fills the room.

The network is replaying footage of Jonah’s arrest, but then it changes to a still image that looks like his ID photo. Bullet points appear to the right of his picture, and my heart sinks when I read what they’ve managed to dig up.

The bullet points include Jonah’s discharge from the army and his supposed history of mental illness. It doesn’t come out and say what he was diagnosed with, but it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I’m not sure where they got that information. They aren’t facts Jonah willingly shares. I can feel my own fury mixing with dread, and I want to chuck my shoe at the screen.

What do we do? Jared asks.

Once again, I get a surge of gratitude that I’m not in this alone. Jared’s a good guy, and he’s willing to help. That alone is worth everything.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The first thing is to clear Jonah’s name.

I try to ping Tripp, but my Optix can’t connect. A message tells me there’s a problem with the network.

My heart sinks. This has to be Mordecai’s doing. He