Zora's Aurora 2 - Silver Veil
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 3
Zora sat perched on one corner of the polished surface of Delta’s desk, swinging her booted feet like a kid who’d just been called to the principal’s office and decided to redecorate instead. Sophie leaned against the office wall, arms folded, an ambiguous smile on her face. Delta, ever composed, was reviewing something on a holo-display until Zora’s latest wisecrack derailed her focus.
“So let me get this straight,” Zora said, tapping her chin. “Our steady, reliable, borderline-boring Brian—”
“Zora,” Sophie warned.
“—has fallen head over anti-grav boots for the galaxy’s sweetest redhead. I love it. It’s like a rom-com from the 2100s.”
Delta closed the holo with a sigh that was half amusement, half defeat. “It’s not exactly a romance yet.”
“Give it time,” Zora said. “You saw the way he looked at her. That man was short-circuiting. I’m pretty sure I heard static.”
Delta just rolled her eyes in response, as Zora began to sing. “Love is in the air... ”
Sophie laughed despite herself. “It was kind of adorable.” Then her tone softened. “By the way ... I talked to my Aunt Kate earlier today. I mentioned Brian in passing—just casually—and she ... wasn’t thrilled.”
Delta glanced up. “About Natalia?”
Sophie nodded. “Yeah. She’s just protective of her, you know? After everything with Jarl. She worries about Natalia getting close to anyone, especially someone older. And, well—Brian’s older.”
Zora raised her hand theatrically. “Older but distinguished. Like a fine cheese. Or maybe a bourbon.”
Delta fought a losing battle with a smile. “Zora.”
“What? I’m saying she’s got good taste.”
Sophie chuckled. “I tried to tell Aunt Kate that Brian’s different. He’s a genuinely good guy. The kind of man Natalia needs to meet if she’s going to start trusting people again. But I could tell she’s still cautious.”
“Can’t blame her,” Delta said thoughtfully. “After the pheromone fiasco, I think we’re all still a little gun-shy.”
There was a brief lull. Zora crossed her arms. “Still, if anyone can pull each other back to normal, it’s those two. You saw them—he’s a puddle of melted professionalism, and she’s glowing like a comet.”
Sophie smirked. “I suppose it is kind of sweet.”
“Sweet?” Zora scoffed. “It’s cinematic. It’s—wait, what’s that old saying? When stars align?”
Delta arched an eyebrow. “Let’s not schedule their wedding just yet. So far, all we have is one instance of mooning in a practice room.”
“That’s how these things start,” Zora countered. “First you moon, then you swoon, and before you know it, you’re arguing over who left the coffee on the grav-cooker.”
Delta and Sophie both laughed.
Then Sophie sobered slightly. “Actually, I was planning to head back to Anastasia for a quick visit. Aunt Kate’s been dying to see me again, and the band’s on break anyway. Maybe I can talk to her—tell her Brian’s not just some random guy. Put in a few good words.”
Delta nodded approvingly. “Good idea. Calm her concerns before anything actually does happen. Pre-emptive diplomacy.”
Zora grinned. “Ah, yes. Classic Sophie—romantic envoy to the stars.”
“Somebody has to keep you from turning every situation into a musical,” Sophie said dryly.
Zora spread her hands. “Hey, I’m an artist of emotion.”
Delta laughed quietly. “You’re an artist of chaos.”
The three women shared a look—equal parts affection, amusement, and that quiet understanding that bound them through crises and concerts alike.
“Alright,” Delta said finally, tapping her stylus on the desk. “Sophie, you handle your aunt. Zora—try not to start any new rumors before she gets back.”
Zora winked. “No promises.”
The late afternoon air outside the sanctuary office was filled with the faint sounds of animals in the fields beyond—the bleating of goats, the occasional soft whinny of a rescued mare. Zora and Sophie sat in the small common room, the one Carmen had cheerfully dubbed “Mission Control” when she first opened the place. The room’s walls were lined with framed photos of animals they’d saved over the years.
Sophie was half-packed for her trip to Anastasia the next morning. Zora, sprawled on the sofa, was halfway through a bag of MoonPuffs, her idea of lunch. The mood was easy—until the door opened.
Carmen stepped in, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. Normally she carried herself with calm precision, the kind of woman who could soothe a panicked horse with just her tone. But now her hands twisted together, and the lines around her eyes looked deeper, drawn tight with worry.
Zora noticed immediately. “Carmen, you look like someone canceled MoonPuffs production,” she said, setting the half-eaten bag aside. “What’s wrong?”
Carmen hesitated before speaking, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate to trouble you both, but something’s not right here. At first I thought it was just mistakes—clerical things—but now...” She looked from Zora to Sophie. “Now it feels deliberate.”
Zora straightened, her joking manner vanishing. “Deliberate? Carmen, you’ve run this place like clockwork for years. What’s going on?”
Carmen drew a slow, unsteady breath. “I told you earlier about the shipping irregularities. First it was the feed shipment—delayed twice, with no explanation. Then the filtration system—somebody tampered with it. I found the intake valves unscrewed, and the purifier casing off-center, like someone was trying to get inside. And now...” She paused, as if the words themselves resisted coming out. “Now some of the animals are ill. The vet says it looks like exposure to something chemical, but he can’t trace it.”
The room fell still except for the distant bleating outside. Sophie’s expression sharpened—professional, analytical. “Have you checked the security footage?”
“That’s the strange thing,” Carmen said. “The cameras went down the same night the pens were opened. We found three alpacas wandering the north pasture at dawn. I can’t prove anything, but it feels like someone wanted me to look incompetent.”
Zora leaned back, crossing her arms, her brow furrowed. “Or someone wanted the animals.”
Carmen looked up sharply, as if the thought had been circling in her mind but she hadn’t dared give it voice. “That’s the worst part,” she admitted. “A crate of medical supplies—blood test kits, antibiotics—vanished from storage. I double-checked with the supplier. They insist it was delivered.”
For a moment, the room was filled only with the subtle drone of the ceiling fan and the distant cluck of chickens outside.
Sophie broke the silence, her voice measured but edged with concern. “You’re saying someone’s stealing veterinary supplies? That doesn’t make sense unless...” She trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Unless the supplies are being repurposed. Or resold.”
The words lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling. Zora met Carmen’s eyes and saw not just worry there—but guilt, fear, and something else. Could it be possible that this sanctuary, this small, gentle refuge in a harsh world, had suddenly become the target of something far larger?
Morning sunlight filtered through the wide kitchen window of Zora and Sophie’s house, splashing across the breakfast table and catching the gleam of Sophie’s travel case by the door. The air was alive with the smell of synth-coffee and the low hum of packing drones finishing their work.
Sophie stood in the entryway, dressed in casual travel clothes, hair pulled back neatly, checking her handheld itinerary one last time. Zora leaned against the counter, barefoot, a half-eaten MoonPuff in one hand and a mug in the other.
“You sure you packed enough shoes?” Zora asked with mock concern. “You’re only going to another planet, after all.”
Sophie gave her a look over her shoulder. “I’m visiting my aunt, not climbing Olympus Mons. I’ll manage.”
“Just saying, I don’t want to get a comm from Anastasia about an interplanetary shoe shortage.”
“Funny.” Sophie zipped up the last pouch on her bag. “You’re the one who’s going to be late meeting Carmen if you don’t move soon.”
Before Zora could retort, Delta’s voice cut in through the comm speaker on the wall. “Good morning, ladies. Sorry to intrude, but I have what I’d call stellar news.”
Zora rolled her eyes. “This better not be about tax filings.”
“Better,” Delta said, clearly savoring the moment. “Carmen’s cousin pulled a few strings, and we’ve been booked for three shows next week on the Moon—Las Estrellas Sector, Latin Alliance territory. Big venue, good pay, and they’re expecting record attendance.”
Sophie blinked. “That’s ... fast.”
Zora grinned, instantly energized. “Guess we’re going lunar, baby! Wait until I tell Natalia.”
Delta continued, a hint of skepticism in her tone. “Just make sure Natalia’s really ready for it. A new drummer’s first live set—on an unfamiliar world, no less—isn’t exactly the shallow end.”
“She’ll be fine,” Zora said confidently. “The kid’s a natural. You should’ve seen her face after the audition—she’s ready for this.”
Sophie nodded in agreement. “Give her a couple more days of practice and she’ll make us sound better than ever.”
“Well,” Delta said, “I’ll hold you to that. I’ll send over the itinerary within the hour. Safe travels, Sophie—and Zora, keep me posted on whatever Carmen’s worried about.”
The line clicked off. Sophie adjusted her bag strap and gave Zora a half-smile. “Try not to start any small wars while I’m gone.”
“Once again, no promises,” Zora said, walking her to the door. “Go charm your aunt into forgiving humanity again.”
After Sophie left, the house felt suddenly quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling vents. Zora finished her coffee, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the rideshare pickup outside.
The sanctuary looked peaceful under the morning sun, but Carmen’s tense expression when she met Zora near the stables told another story. The smell of hay and disinfectant mingled in the air.
“Morning,” Zora said, pushing up her sunglasses. “You look like someone just told you they’re outlawing coffee.”
“I wish it were that simple,” Carmen said, walking her toward the small office. “I’ve been checking the supply logs again since yesterday. The missing crates weren’t just random—whoever took them knew exactly what they were after. High-value items, easy to move.”
“Meaning antibiotics and test kits.”
“Exactly. And that filtration tampering? The chemical traces the vet found match a disinfectant we don’t even stock here.” Carmen’s voice trembled slightly. “It was introduced intentionally, but in just enough quantity to sicken—not kill—the animals. Whoever did this wanted attention drawn to the sanctuary, not a massacre.”
Zora frowned, absorbing that. “So, sabotage with finesse. Somebody’s trying to make a point—or test a process.”
Carmen nodded grimly. “And if they’re testing, that’s worse. Because it means this place is just a trial run for something bigger.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, the sound of goats bleating faintly in the distance. Zora sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Sophie’s off-world for a few days, and Delta’s got us lined up for three shows on Luna,” she said. “That’ll keep us busy, but when we get back, we’ll start digging. In the meantime, keep a sharp eye out for anything off—deliveries, visitors, even air traffic.”
Carmen nodded. “I will. And I’ll tighten our access protocols. Whoever’s doing this, I want to catch them before they strike again.”
Zora smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit. Just don’t try to take on any mysterious saboteurs without backup, all right?”
Carmen’s mouth twitched in something close to a smile. “Don’t hold me to that.”
As Zora headed back toward the waiting car, she glanced over her shoulder. The sanctuary’s fields stretched out behind Carmen like a patchwork of peace—but somewhere within that calm, she knew, trouble was quietly germinating.
Sophie stepped off the arrival platform in Anastasia and inhaled the familiar air in the enclosed orbiting city — filtered, faintly metallic, and tinged with the scent of ozone. Despite the colony’s artificiality, it still carried a kind of nostalgic warmth for her.
Her aunt’s home was there on a quiet residential terrace, overlooking the subdued lights of the lower sector. When Sophie arrived, Kate was waiting at the door, arms crossed, her sharp eyes softening as soon as she saw her niece.
“Well, look at you,” Kate said, pulling Sophie into a hug. “I thought you’d forgotten what gravity felt like on this side of the system.”
Sophie laughed, setting her travel bag by the door. “Gravity, yes. You, never. And it’s only been a few months, right?”
They moved into the small sitting room, still decorated with Kate’s eclectic mix of art from old Earth and handmade Venera crafts. Kate poured tea, a ritual she maintained even in a world where few bothered.
“I have to say,” Kate began, settling into her chair, “I was surprised Natalia decided to move to Earth. She’s a good girl. But I’m not so sure about ... the rest of what you told me.”