Short Story Fiction Contest May 2014 | Page 199

So I’m not a spy. So I’m no good at this. I didn’t know someone was sneaking up on me. I didn’t know until I heard her say, “Turn around!”

“Alicia?” I shouted, warning Hank inside the head.

“I knew you would do this, June. I knew it when I saw the ship land.” She was obviously tense and uncomfortable. Sweat poured from her dark face. There was something in her hand -- some sort of a weapon.

“You knew?” I found it hard to breathe. My brain started spinning like a rotor. “How? I didn’t even know then.”

“Why not?” I asked as I backed away from her and moved to the left. “You’re not a SecPol.” She followed, keeping her weapon trained on me. I had to get her back against the door to the head.

“Please,” I continued. “You’re one of the few people that understands me. You know that sooner or later the Council’s going to figure out that I’m no artist and I’ll end up like Lee.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded, her hands shaking. She had the weapon and she was the nervous one. I had the cool resolve of desperation. “Things are very strained between the Federation and the Jeffersonians right now. Your SecPols didn’t want us to let this ship land. They certainly didn’t want us to fix it. Now, if you escape it could be the spark that blows everything up.”

I moved a few more centimeters to the left. “I can’t go on living here,” I said to her softly. “If you won’t let me go, you’ll have to kill me. You’ve got to decide between your country and your friend.”