by R. M. Olson
He looked at her with a vague curiosity, as if he didn’t understand her words, and Jez turned away for a moment, swearing softly to herself.
“Jez?”
She jumped and spun around, hand on her weapon. Ysbel stood there, looking down with a mix of pity and concern.
“Ysbel, this kid—they—” she swallowed hard, and found she couldn’t say anything else. Wordlessly, Ysbel crouched beside her. Her face, in the dim light, was grim, but she clearly wasn’t shocked. Not like Jez had been shocked.
She’d known about this. The rest of them had all known about this. And she had too, sort of. At least, she’d heard rumours of the pleasure planets when she was working with Lena, but they were only vague rumours, winks and nudges between some of the more unsavoury pilots. And when she’d come here before, when she’d first started flying with Masha and the others, Lev had given a brief explanation, when pressed.
But this?
Somehow, the last ten minutes had taught her more about this pleasure planet she’d ever wanted to know. And the sight of the gangrenous, rotting wound on the kid’s leg mingled with the memory of Ivan’s face, set and afraid, the blood running down his neck and chest.
Except this kid hadn’t had someone to step in.
Ysbel was speaking with the child in a quiet voice, and now, gently, she pulled the blanket back. Jez could see the way her posture stiffened at the sight and the smell.
Gently, carefully, Ysbel replaced the dirty blanket and stood. “I’m sorry, Jez,” she said quietly. “There’s not much we can do.”
“Damn it to hell,” Jez spat, standing abruptly. Her heart was pounding, and tears were threatening to squeeze themselves out between her eyelids, but she blinked them back.
“I’m sorry,” said Ysbel. She was still crouched beside the boy, and her hand on his skinny arm was gentle, but she was looking at Jez.
“Let’s go then, get this done and get the hell out of here,” said Jez through her teeth.
She wanted to hit something. She wanted to bloody shoot someone.
They walked quickly through the streets. Ysbel led the way, watching carefully around them before turning onto a new street, staying far enough away from the alley entrances so no one could grab them unawares.
Jez was too damn angry to care.
There were other people in the streets, furtive, ragged figures, many of them limping or maimed, others huddled in alleyways like more dirty bundles of rags. Like the kid they’d left in the alley. The kid who was bloody well going to die, and there was nothing they could damn well do about it.
When they reached the archway that marked the entrance to the pleasure district, Jez swallowed down the sick in her throat a second time. The clean cobblestones looked dirty, somehow, and the shadows cast by the bright, garish lights reminded her somehow of bloodstains.
She didn’t speak, and neither did Ysbel, as they slipped through the entranceway and started off down the street. Ysbel’s posture was casual, her hood thrown back, the lights flashing from the pleasure houses lining the streets casting harsh reflections across her pale skin.
Jez was as taut as a strung wire. She ached to grab one of the bastards strolling down this street and plant her fist in the middle of their damn smug face.
“Jez,” said Ysbel warningly, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “I know how you feel. But getting into a fight isn’t going to do anything.”
“I know,” Jez replied, her voice low and harsh. “It’s not damn well going to do anything. Look at this hell-hole. There’s a million kids like that kid in the alley, I get it, and we can’t help them. But—what the hell is the point, then?”
Ysbel stopped a moment, considering her. Then she took Jez firmly by the arm and drew her back into a space between two buildings. “Jez,” she said in a low, grim voice. “Right now, all we can do is try to keep the rest of the crew from being killed by Grigory. That’s what we’re doing. That’s all we’re doing. Do you understand?”
“Yeah?” Jez shot back. “And what about that kid in the alley? Who cares enough to save him?”
Ysbel just looked at her steadily, and finally Jez jerked her arm free and turned away.
“Fine,” she said through her teeth. “Fine, Ysbel. Let’s keep our own damn friends safe and happy, and to hell with everyone else, right?”
Ysbel didn’t answer, but Jez heard a long sigh from behind her. “Believe me,” Ysbel said in a low voice after a moment. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
Somehow Jez managed to hold herself in check as they wound their way through the streets to where Ysbel and Galina had decided would be the most effective place to plant the explosive.
Thinking of Galina made it worse somehow. Because Galya had lived here. Galya had worked in the damn kitchens during the day, and spent the nights chained in the cellar, and she’d escaped, and she was alright.
But she was one of a very, very few.
They reached the place, a tall building shaped like a palace. Ysbel handed Jez a small smoke bomb.“Around the back,” she whispered. “Throw it inside, and sound the alarm. I’ll wait until everyone’s out before I detonate the explosive.” She paused. “This is a gambling hall. So don’t worry. There’s no on in cages here.”
Jez gave a tight nod.
When she reached the back of the building, she hurled the smoke bomb, and it sailed through the glass window with a satisfying crunch. “Fire!” she shouted at the top of her voice. “Fire! The damn place is burning down!”
Despite everything, it was immensely satisfying to hear the screams from inside.
Let these bastards be the ones screaming, for once.
She headed back around the side of the building, and met Ysbel. Ysbel jerked her head wordlessly, and Jez followed her at a quick pace down the street.
And then there was a crack that seemed to shatter her eardrums, followed by a low, ominous rumble. When she glanced over her shoulder, the gambling hall was gone. In its place, a pile of debris settled into a large hole that had been blown into the ground.
But somehow, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever going to be enough.
She almost didn’t notice, as they approached the arch that led back into the filthy squaller of the squatter town, the motion near the gate, until Ysbel put up a warning hand.
She came to an abrupt halt and frowned, something cold stirring in her stomach.
A group of people stood there, laughing and joking with each other. They were all clearly wealthy, and clearly here to enjoy themselves, and they were flanked by a handful of menacing-looking bodyguards. One of them had a heat gun, but most had the long, thin, elegant gutting knives that she’d come to hate the sight of.
“Let’s go, then,” one of the men said, and started through the gates, and the others followed, the bodyguards bringing up the rear.
“What’s—” she began, turning to Ysbel, but the look on the woman’s face stopped her.
Ysbel paused a moment. “It’s nothing you want to know about, Jez,” she said quietly.
Jez sucked in a quick breath. “Ysbel,” she said, biting off her words. “Look. I hate this, alright? I bloody hate this, and if I could I’d burn this whole planet down. But I’m not an innocent. I don’t need to be protected. And you’re damn well going to tell me what’s going on.”
Ysbel paused for another long moment. At last she nodded heavily. “Alright. But I did warn you. Galina told me, last time we were here. That gate—there’s a reason it’s not locked.”
Jez had already guessed what Ysbel would say next, but hearing her say it somehow made it worse.
“Jez?” Ysbel’s voice seemed to come from far away.
“Yeah,” Jez said, distantly. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me. Guess—guess we should be getting back now.”
Ysbel studied her for a few moments, and there was probably concern on her face, but honestly Jez didn’t really care.
“If you’re sure you’re alright,” she said q
uietly. She turned, and somehow Jez made her legs move, made herself follow Ysbel through the archway and into the dirty streets.
They hunted them. Like animals. The pleasure houses weren’t enough, so they’d follow them out here to where they tried to hide and lick their wounds.
And they thought it was exciting. It was a game to them, just another diversion in a planet full of diversions.
She hardly noticed the feel of the street under her boots, or the cool of the night air on her skin.
It didn’t really matter. Because for the first time in her life, she realized the truth—this was too big, and too terrible, and too overwhelmingly sick and wrong for any of them to make a difference.
No matter what she did, no matter where she went, no matter how long she lived, she’d never scrub the filth of this place off her skin.
And then there was a shout up ahead, and every muscle in her body tensed.
And then another sound, a small, raspy voice crying out in fear, and Jez was running, heat pistol in her hand, before she even realized what she was doing.
She rounded the corner and took in the scene at a glance—one man bending over the boy, an unpleasant smile on his face, three of his companions standing behind him, watching with lascivious interest, the bodyguards standing slightly back.
Her first shot hit the bent-over man squarely in the chest, which was actually pretty impressive since she hadn’t even bothered to slow down.
He swayed for a moment, then fell soundlessly, a look of surprise plastered grotesquely onto his face.
There was a moment where everyone was looking at him and no one had looked up yet to see where the shot had come from.
And then she bowled into the three people who were still standing.
One of them, a women, fell hard against the wall. Jez caught herself, spun around, and grabbed one of the remaining men by the collar, jerking him forward and planting a fist into the centre of his nose. He shouted, a fine spray of blood spattering Jez and his companions and the wall beside them, and Jez jerked him around, his body forming a shield between her and the bodyguards.
The woman who’d been thrown against the wall had recovered herself and grabbed Jez by the throat. She was reaching for her gun, but Jez twisted free and kicked as hard as she could, planting the heel of her boot hard into the woman’s kneecap. The woman shrieked in pain, and the gun skittered across the dirty alley.
Jez was grinning, but there was still that hard, vicious knot in her chest. Sure, she was going to die, right here, but she’d damn well rather die than let this happen.
The other man grabbed her wrist, wrenching her grip from his companion’s shirtfront, and hit her hard in the face. She staggered, but managed to grab his hair with her free hand, jerking his head down as he grunted in pain. He tightened his grip on her wrist, twisting hard, and she could feel the bones about to break, and then she managed to bring her knee up. It was awkward, and not nearly the kind of blow she was hoping for, but her knee connected with his nose and he dropped his grip and stumbled backwards. She spun—
The other two had stepped back. The five bodyguards were spread in a half-circle around her, weapons aimed, expressions hard.
“Get back,” one of them said to the man, who was holding his face and muttering curses.
He complied.
Now it was just Jez.
She grinned at the bodyguards, her heart jumping like a damn desert rabbit, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She hadn’t honestly thought she’d die in a dirty street in a slum on a pleasure planet, but hell, you take what you get.
And then, through the sick anticipation that was flooding through her like a drug, she heard Ysbel’s voice, two terse words.
“Get down.”
There was something about Ysbel’s tone that made Jez’s muscles obey automatically, and she dropped to the ground like she’d been hit over the head. There was a spray of something with a familiar sharp, chemical scent, and the part of her brain that was still somehow trying to keep her alive recognized it, and she was already rolling out of the way, grabbing the terrified bundle of rags that was a child as she did so, and then the world went white.
When it cleared, she was braced against the wall of the alley, her body sheltering the kid from the shrappnel.
Cautiously, she raised her head.
Ysbel stood across from her, expression grim.
Jez didn’t bother to look down at what remained of the customers and their bodyguards, because she was pretty damn sure she didn’t want to see that. Instead, she got shakily to her feet, leaning against the wall of the alley for support. A sharp pain in her wrist reminded her that she’d been in a fight a couple minutes ago, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t the reason her legs were shaking like she’d drunk a hell of a lot more than she could handle.
“Are you alright?”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate her brain, then she nodded shakily. “Yeah. Yeah, guess I am. Thanks.”
Ysbel took her by the shoulders, her grip surprisingly gentle, and turned her around, looking her up and down critically.
“You’ve got blood all over you,” she said.
“Don’t think most of it’s mine,” said Jez, attempting a grin. She wasn’t sure it turned out, considering the look on Ysbel’s face.
“Are you going to be able to get back home?”
The question finally snapped Jez out of her daze. She blinked a moment, then managed a snarky grin that felt a little more successful than the last one had been.
“Ysbel,” she said. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Do I look like I’m actually dead?”
Ysbel raised an eyebrow. “I’m not completely sure I would be able to tell the difference at this point, but since you’re standing, I’ll assume that no, you’re not dead.”
“Well then,” said Jez with a smirk. “Guess that answers your question.”
“Fair enough,” said Ysbel wryly.
Jez took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she crouched down in front of the child.
“Hey. Kid,” she said softly. “You OK?”
The boy’s face was blank with terror, but at last he managed a small nod.
“Good,” she said. “Look, I promise I won’t hurt you, at least, I’ll do my damndest not to. But this isn’t a place for children, OK? I’m going to pick you up, is that alright?”
His expression froze, his whole body trembling.
“I promise I don’t want to hurt you,” she said softly, and she found her voice was trembling too, just like her hands and her legs and her whole damn body.
Finally, finally, the child gave a small, terrified nod.
“What are you—” Ysbel began.
Jez didn’t look up at her, just scooped the bundle of blankets and child gently into her arms and straightened, somehow managing not to stagger. The kid weighed almost nothing, and when she looked down, his face was twisted in silent agony.
“You got painkiller in your first aid kit?” she asked, still without looking up.
“Jez,” began Ysbel, after a moment’s pause.
“I said, you got any damn painkiller?” Jez asked through her teeth.
Ysbel sighed heavily, and there was the sound of someone rummaging through a handful of small items.
“There are these,” Ysbel said at last, crossing over to stand beside her. “They’re for a full-grown adult. But if you give him just a half, it should cut the pain.”
Jez took the proffered half-tablet, and propped her knee up on her bike, supporting the impossibly-light weight of him. Gently, she pulled back the bit of filthy blanket that had covered the boy’s face.
“This will make it hurt less,” she whispered.
The kid’s teeth were clenched so tightly she wasn’t sure if he could open his mouth if he wanted to.
“It will dissolve quickly if you can get it into him,” said Ysbel quietly.
Biting back nausea, Jez pulled his lip down gently
and tried to pry the chalky tablet between his teeth. In the end she had to settle for dropping it into his bottom lip and letting his mouth pinch closed again.
“We should go,” said Ysbel, her voice still quiet. “Someone will come looking for the others sooner or later.”
“How long does this take to work?” Jez asked, her voice tight.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ysbel shrug. “I don’t know. Fifteen minutes, maybe? Longer than we can wait.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard.
“Jez,” said Ysbel after a moment, and her voice was painfully gentle. “I’m sorry. That boy isn’t going to—”
This time Jez did look up, and hell, maybe there were tears in her eyes but she couldn’t actually help it right now, and her arms were too full to be able to brush them away.
“I don’t care,” she said in a low, vicious voice. “I don’t actually give a damn, OK? Because I’m not leaving him here. I’m not bloody leaving him. Maybe I can’t save him, but I’ll be damned to every hell in existence before I’ll just leave him like this.”
“Alright,” said Ysbel at last. “Then I suppose we’d best get going.”
Steering the bike, even with the achingly-light bundle in her arms, wasn’t difficult. She’d been telling Ysbel the truth—she could probably ride the thing if she was unconscious, because her muscles knew what to do even without any input from her brain. But she rode slowly, trying not to jostle the kid.
She could tell the moment when the painkillers finally kicked in, because his stiff body went gradually limp in her arms, which, on one hand, was a relief, and on the other, made her whole body seize up with terror, because through the blankets she couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or if he’d finally just given up.
Ysbel must have radioed ahead, because when she pulled into the hangar bay, Galina and Tanya and Masha were all there, waiting for her. She slid off the bike and handed her bundle over to Galina, who took it gently and laid the boy on the floor. Jez could see the emotion flit across her face as the blankets fell back, horror and resignation and recognition.