Eva had wondered about that; if they were spending so much time chasing after her, why not just kick her out? Certainly she wouldn’t be able to refuse, and it would be a huge pain in the ass to figure out how to sneak back onto the planet. Assuming it was even necessary; they still hadn’t been able to establish that Josh was there at all.
“You have any thoughts on that?” Eva asked, staring directly into Felsira’s large, dark eyes.
Felsira turned slightly, so that she was gazing out through the wall at the starlit farmland. “We are uncertain, but we believe there may be a way to utilize your . . . relationship with the Prime to aid the resistance.”
“How, exactly?” Eva asked. “And what’s in it for me?” Vakar still smelled mostly like cigarettes and suspicion, but there was the smallest hint of jasmine in there, so he wasn’t entirely put off these people.
“You are searching for someone,” Dr. Lucien said, pausing in his work. “Joshua Zafone.”
And there was the sound of the other shoe dropping, heavy as a gravboot. “How did you hear about that?” Eva asked. She hadn’t even told Damaal, though Sue had let enough slip that presumably the xana might have figured it out, if she got past the layers of identity fluff Eva tried to maintain between her crew and shady places like Garilia.
“I told them,” Nara said, and Eva mentally cursed herself for being a comemierda. Of course the bounty hunter knew; they’d more or less told Miles fucking Erck the whole story to get him to give up his intel, that sinvergüenza.
“Did you tell them I wiped the floor with your sorry ass in that bot fight?” Eva said.
“No, because you’re the one who stepped on the ball there, anus,” Nara replied coolly. She still hadn’t turned around.
Eva rolled her eyes. “So yes, great, looking for Josh,” she said. “And you can help with that?”
“Joshua is currently employed by the Sylfe Company in the development of their robotic Attuned,” Felsira said quietly. “Dr. Lucien worked with him briefly before leaving the project.”
Me cago en diez, Eva thought. He had been here the whole time. And if he was working on the Ball Buddies, that meant Damaal knew exactly who he was, any nebulous ideas of being old college friends aside. But that raised a whole new set of questions.
“He’s not being held here against his will?” Eva asked the doctor.
“He did not appear to be,” Dr. Lucien replied. “In fact, he was quite eager to join our team. I was only acquainted with him for a few cycles, but in that time he toured the facilities and took extensive notes, occasionally conferring with the Prime about changes he hoped to make in the design and production of the robots.”
Right, he and Sue were two peas in a pod that way. A chill ran up Eva’s back; could Josh have stolen some of the Proarkhe tech he’d been working on with The Fridge? That would explain why Sue thought some of the mechanisms of the bots were strange, and why they seemed to be able to defy the laws of physics. Those mysterious ancients were worse than humans the way they popped up in random places to turn a normal planet into an arroz con mango.
Eva pursed her lips. “So I help you do whatever, and you help me get to Josh, is that right?”
“Correct,” Felsira replied.
“And if I don’t want to help you?” Eva asked.
Sapri burst with psychic revulsion. “I warned you that the Butcher could not be trusted. We should end her now, while she is—”
“Easy there, Papito,” Eva said, readying the command to activate her sonic knuckles. “You haven’t told me what you want me to do, and for all I know, it’s a big pile of mierda that I don’t feel like touching.” Vakar hadn’t moved, but he smelled just as on edge as she was, and Mala’s purring had stopped.
“Do you intend to betray us?” Dr. Lucien asked, his tone mild, his expression carefully neutral. His dark eyes studied Eva like she was a robot whose guts he could dig into, given the right tools.
“No,” Eva said. “I’m not here to start problems for anyone. I have enough of my own.”
Now it was Jei who spoke up, almost as hostile as Sapri. “This was a waste of time. Anyone who would do what she did isn’t worth dealing with.” To Dr. Lucien, he said, “Why would you take the word of that bounty hunter anyway? She’s no better.”
Eva raised an eyebrow and glanced at Nara. “Qué rayo, Sumas?” she asked. What had Nara said to them?
“I vouched for you,” Nara said. She looked sideways at Eva, her green hair touched with red from the wall behind her. “Me, I’m loyal to my bank account, and whoever feeds it. You saved those hostages on Pupillae and you didn’t get paid for it. You didn’t even take the credit.” She turned away again. “I think you’re a fool, but you’re the same kind of fool as these people.”
Nara had been here when Eva killed all those xana, had held her at gunpoint until it was clear that her employers would no longer be able to afford Nara’s services. They’d crossed paths here and there since then, but mostly they ran in different circles; Eva’s hustle was delivering shit, while Nara’s was capturing or protecting people.
And as far as Eva knew, Nara would take any job she was offered, for the right price. Hell, she’d worked for Eva’s father, Pete, when he’d stolen La Sirena Negra out from under Eva’s crew, which Eva had never understood, given that Pete had nothing to pay with at the time. Ethics didn’t enter into it; odds, maybe, though Nara had a reputation for beating bad ones, hence her outrageous prices. If stories were to be believed, she’d single-handedly cleared an entire planet of space pirates once.
Eva didn’t believe that, but then again, she had trouble believing some of the shit she herself had done.
“Joshua is kept with the other scientists working on the project,” Dr. Lucien said quietly. “We all but lived in the laboratories in order to meet the requested production schedule. To stop the Prime’s plan, we must infiltrate those facilities and destroy them. If you aided us, you would be able to reach Joshua and do whatever you must.”
Which will be a lot harder if he isn’t interested in leaving, Eva thought. Hopefully Sue would be able to convince him, or he’d take the bait that Mari and The Forge were dangling in terms of working with their own Proarkhe tech and secret project. Maybe their “save the universe” talk would resonate with him; Eva certainly felt the allure of being a big damn hero, even if it was never as simple as people made it sound.
She had to admit, the thought of undoing some of the damage she had done on Garilia was tempting. The Watchers were shady as hell, Damaal was worse, and the whole new government reeked of an oppression that Eva felt in her bones needed fighting. Maybe the resistance was the wrong way to do it, but maybe not. It was worth finding out.
“I have to consult with the rest of my crew,” Eva said. “But this is the best chance we’ve had yet to do what we came here for. So . . .” She looked at Vakar, who shrugged in the quennian equivalent of a nod.
“We work together for now,” Eva said. “Let’s do this.”
Dr. Lucien nodded approval, then hesitated. “One question,” he said.
“Yeah?” Eva asked.
“Why do you have a cat with you?”
Chapter 15
Don’t Blow It
Eva and Vakar were quiet on the way back to the construction site, escorted by a sullen Jei and Nara, with Mala still draped across her neck. The giant pit was empty now, dark, a strange wound on the landscape that would someday be another building stretching up into the sky. Funny how holes could be filled that way, could go from void to life-containing with the work of many hands.
Eva could relate. Maybe her life wasn’t quite as grand as one of the home-trees or their fabricated counterparts, but it had been empty and now it was so full that sometimes it threatened to overflow. She had others to thank for that, a whole crew—a family—who had given her a hand up out of the pit she’d dug for herself and now they’d built something worth inhabiting. She hoped they all felt that way, at least.
&n
bsp; Certainly they’d been through enough together already—dangerous jobs, raids on Fridge facilities, space fights and bot fights and everything in between, all for the enormous goal of bringing down an organization that was a starwhale when they were tardigrades. And now she was going to explain to them why they should help yet another group of people who were facing impossible odds to do something that felt right but might be very, very wrong. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but it needed to be had, and if her crew decided not to help the resistance, she would abide by that. They’d find another way to reach Josh, even if it meant crawling back to Damaal and begging.
Eva didn’t think that would be so easy, either, but she had to consider their options.
As she was about to climb out of the vehicle, she stopped. “Random question,” she said.
Nara put a hand on her hip in a way that suggested she’d been reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. “What,” she said.
“Why were you on Abelgard?” Eva asked. “You never told us.”
“It was none of your business,” Jei replied. He sat on the floor of the transport, his arm weapon still charged; she wondered whether he had to maintain that with concentration or whether it was automatic.
“You can tell me now that we’re such good amigos,” Eva said, smiling at him with her mouth closed.
“Erck,” Nara said. “Same as you.”
Eva hadn’t gone to Abelgard for Erck in the first place, but she wasn’t about to contradict the woman. “What did the resistance want Erck for?”
“What do you want Josh for?” Jei asked, frowning.
“His sister has been looking for him,” Eva replied coolly. “She’s my crew, so I’m helping her.”
Nara looked her up and down, a slow gaze that ended with meeting Eva’s eyes. “Right.” Her tone bristled with sarcasm.
“If that were so, you would have no reason to be sneaking around here the way you are,” Jei said. “And you would not have a reason to extract him. Simply knowing he is here and well would suffice. You might even be able to go straight to the Prime and ask that she let you visit him, and she would likely allow it.”
“Maybe I never trusted Damaal,” Eva said. “She certainly didn’t give me a reason to, and I still don’t have one.”
Jei didn’t look convinced, and Nara . . .
“Don’t make a liar out of me, Larsen,” Nara said.
“Innocente,” Eva corrected. “And don’t pretend you don’t lie all the time.”
“I lie for money,” Nara said. “I lie when a job requires it. I don’t lie for myself.” Her eyes were deep blue, like the sky darkening to night, like the places underwater where light barely reached and everything was cold and crushing.
“I’m not going to screw you over,” Eva said. “Don’t worry.” As if telling anyone not to worry had ever worked.
Nara didn’t even bother rolling her eyes, just gestured dismissively at Eva. Jei glared at her like she’d insulted his parents, which hey, maybe she had. She still wasn’t sure what his beef with her was.
Eva and Vakar climbed out of the transport and watched it take off, zipping away faster than virtually anything seemed to happen on the whole damn planet.
“I guess we go back to the room now,” Eva said.
“Yes,” Vakar replied. Mala yowled agreement as well.
They began to walk, with Vakar leading the way as he had before, though they hadn’t coordinated it. Some things didn’t need to be discussed.
Then again, some things did.
“Is this a bad idea?” Eva asked.
Vakar smelled like incense, like the air before rain, like ozone and jasmine and a shade of mint. All anxiety and worry and a pit of thoughts as deep as the one they were leaving behind them.
“There is a story I learned when I was young,” Vakar said finally.
“Story time,” Eva said, grinning. “My favorite.”
Vakar’s smell gained a bashful spike of green, which faded quickly. “When the quennians first began to explore space, we encountered a sapient species called the ibbyhn. This was before translator nanites were fully developed, and before we had joined any interspecies coalitions, but with time and patience we made ourselves understood.”
“What were your first-contact protocols?” Eva asked. She’d learned the basics in school, like most other humans, and had to review them when she was getting her pilot’s license, but that had been a long time ago.
“We approached cautiously, peacefully,” Vakar replied. The smell of jasmine overpowered the others as he delved into his thoughts. “Ours were among the protocols eventually adopted by other species, who had often been more aggressive, even if unintentionally. We offered knowledge and asked nothing in return.”
Eva chuckled. “Knowledge is plenty dangerous. There’s more than one way to be a colonizer.”
“Of course.” A brief fart smell of dismay. “We were more naïve then, and optimistic.”
The stars continued their slow progress above as they walked. Eva leaned closer to Vakar, even though it wasn’t remotely chilly. He reached out and took her hand absently, instinctively. It was a human gesture, not a quennian one; she smiled to think he’d internalized it over their short time together.
“So what happened to the ibbyhn?” Eva asked. “Typical first-contact problems?”
“Indeed. They had been a kind species, a communal one as the xana appear to be, their technology devoted to granting themselves easy lives where all were cared for as needed.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Eva said. “Are you sure the quennians didn’t make this up? Bedtime story sort of shit?”
Vakar wagged his head, palps twitching. “It is possible. We are not as dedicated to storytelling as your species, but certainly we have cultures who value emotional manipulation for lesson-teaching purposes.”
“Such terrible liars,” Eva teased.
He smelled amused for a moment, then introspective again. “The ibbyhn split into factions. Some took up weapons, dissatisfied with their lives and believing that force was the tool best suited to the problem. Others defended themselves, hoping to return to the circumstances under which they had lived peacefully for so long.”
“Civil war is a fun plot twist,” Eva muttered. “Why does life always get violent? Can’t people just be nice to each other without someone throwing a chancleta?” She glanced sideways at Vakar. “And yes, I know it’s rich for me to be the one saying that, after—” Her words stuck in her throat.
After everything she had done, not just on Garilia, but all over the universe. Hell, she’d loved being aggressive when she was younger. It made her feel powerful. Strong. Proud of herself in ways nothing else seemed to accomplish, because she was good at it.
Qué mierda. Her neck flushed hot with shame, and Vakar’s grip on her hand tightened. Mala began to purr again, a little furry engine of tension reduction.
“One of the factions did not resort to violence,” Vakar said quietly. “Or so we are told. They spoke words of peace to any who would listen, and attempted to halt conflicts where they could, often by placing their own bodies in the way of harm.”
“Sounds like an easy way to die,” Eva murmured.
“Many of them did.” Vakar smelled pained, like rust and copper. “But they attempted to break the cycle of violence. Their example served to lessen the conflicts, and encouraged others to find alternate methods of engagement.”
“And everyone lived happily ever after?” Eva frowned at her own sarcasm. Vakar didn’t deserve it.
“They did not,” he replied. “The story claims that some of them went into hiding while the rest committed genocide. No ibbyhn has been seen since.”
“So they’re either all gone, or the ones who hid are still out there somewhere?” Eva asked.
Vakar hesitated, smelling sad. “It is likely that the notion of their hiding was added to the account in order to provide a sense of optimism rather than complete failur
e. As noted, quennians are not known for being good liars, but we have our methods.”
Eva nudged him with her hip. “If this story was supposed to make me feel better somehow, it’s not doing the best job.”
“You questioned whether intervening in the politics on this planet was a good idea,” Vakar said. “When the ibbyhn began their civil wars, the quennians did nothing. They did not believe it was their place to interfere.”
“That’s more or less BOFA policy, too,” Eva said. “That everyone has to deal with their own problems, and they’ll be around to help whoever comes out on top.”
“It is the only way to ensure each species is allowed full autonomy.” Vakar smelled like rust, and fire, and copper. “It is supposedly the height of arrogance to assume one might know better from the outside than those within. Perhaps it is arrogant, but I cannot help but think, if only someone had done something more, perhaps the ibbyhn would not be extinct.”
“And maybe they would have blown themselves up even faster. Maybe they would have screwed themselves up in a hundred other ways no one could predict.”
“Perhaps,” Vakar said. “Ultimately, we each must make our own choices. Whether to fight with words or weapons. Whether to fight at all.”
Eva fell silent. Around them, the trappings of civilization grew more dense, the lights within buildings casting red and green and gold squares on the ground, while the stars continued their slow rotation overhead. In the distance, waves lapped against a pristine white shore, and the smell of salt and night-blooming plants drifted along a breeze so faint it hardly stirred Eva’s hair.
Nothing was easy. No answers seemed like the right ones. For years Eva had regretted what she had done here, regretted all the lives she had taken in a single moment. But she’d taken other lives before that, and others after; the only difference was the size of the body count. Coming back to Garilia felt like a chance to atone, or to undo what she’d done, but she couldn’t undo death. No amount of apology or effort would change the past, so all she could do was consider how her actions would affect the future. And for all she knew, the resistance would be just as bad as the current regime—or worse.
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