Taken Liberty v5

by Steven H. Wilson

  A scream interrupted my thoughts, a woman's scream. It was followed by the screeching of a ground car's brakes, and screams of more people. Just up the street, a crowd of people gathered in a circle. A crowd was a good place to lose myself. I ran to them. Hiding in a forest of legs, crouching low, I saw what the screaming was about. A girl, about my age, and well-dressed, lay on the street. Her eyes were open, and looking in my direction, but they weren't seeing me. There was blood on her face, and her legs were turned in ways legs shouldn't turn. She'd been hit by the car whose tires I'd heard screeching. A man, well-dressed like she was, huddled over her, crying. A woman stood over him, screaming for help. She demanded to know where the police were.

  Someone said harshly that the police were too smart to be caught out on the streets of Den. The woman cried harder, and began to shout at the sky to let her little girl live. So this was her mother? And the man must be her father. I could have told the woman she was shouting for no reason. There was no chance her little girl was going to live. I could see it in her eyes – open, but unfocused, like Jin's when I'd broken her neck.

  Another man – it must have been the driver of the car – came to speak to the crying woman. She attacked him, beating on his chest, and looking like she was trying to rip out his eyes. Other people moved in to pull them apart. No one seemed to be doing anything to help the girl. She lay there, dying, if not dead already, the bags she'd been carrying laying in the street where they'd been thrown –

  The bags!

  No one was looking at them. They were all looking at the girl. The bags, from one of the nearby stores, lay between the feet of some onlookers. I crawled slowly toward them, hoping no one would remember or notice them before I got there. I knew what shopping bags were. The Masters often had them, and they always held new things. Food. Wine. New clothes.

  Quietly, I pawed through them. Sure enough, the girl had been clothes shopping. I found what looked like a dress and a coat, grabbed them, and hugged them to me. I started to go. Then, I saw something shiny on the ground near the bags, reflecting what little sunlight there was on Den.

  Den still uses cash money. I know now that not many planets do that anymore. Den had to, though, because so much of the business done there was illegal. You couldn't use credit accounts. Tourists who came to Den always carried money, as this girl and her parents must have, to go shopping. You could use credit, but the best deals were always for cash. When the car had hit her, throwing her bags far from her body, her money had gone flying with them. Slowly, quietly, I gathered it up, too.

  As I got ready to slip away, I looked back at the girl's body, one last time. My heart skipped a beat. She was looking at me. For that moment, just a moment, her eyes cleared. She seemed to see me. Nothing in her face changed, except her eyes, but they told me she saw me.

  Her eyes should have held questions, I thought. "What happened to me?" "Am I dying?" "Can you help me?" "Why me?"

  But they didn't. I saw only... a kind of peace. It was as if she was okay with what was happening, and wanted me to know she didn't mind. It was like she was making her peace with the world. I couldn't understand. Peace with the world was something I could never imagine. I'd been at war with everything since the day I was born, and I figured I'd spend the rest of my life that way.

  But this little girl had given up. She'd admitted defeat in the battle, probably just as she found out there was a battle. For just a moment, I envied her. She had found peace. Then her eyes were glassy again. Or maybe they had been all along. Maybe I'd imagined the whole thing.

  I didn't have time to feel guilty that this girl's death had helped me out. I had to keep moving. I had to find a place to put the clothes on. I looked around, frantically. I saw the car which had killed the girl. The door was still open, where the driver had gotten out. I ran for it, making sure no one was looking at me. No one was. A naked girl just wasn't the free show that a dead girl was. I learned that people are funny that way.

  In the passenger compartment of the car, I quickly dressed, taking the time to check the wound in my leg again. The bleeding didn't seem too bad. It should be all right until I got... wherever I was going. Where was I going? I hadn't made any kind of plan. The chance for escape had been there, I took it, and now... what? I was an escaped slave. I was wearing stolen clothes and carrying stolen money. I was hidden away in a car where I was sure I wouldn't be welcome. On the other hand, a car moved a lot faster than I could on foot. It could take me far away from the place I'd escaped, the place I'd left the tracking chip. Maybe –

  "And what do you think you're doing?"

  It was the driver, who'd just returned to his car. I didn't know what to say. He was a big man, and ugly. He reminded me of one of the masters. Would he be as cruel? I tried to think of a story to tell, because I knew the truth wouldn't work.

  "Well?" he demanded. Then he took a good look at me, noticing my grey skin. "Ohhhh... " he said. "I see how it is. Run away from the auction block, did you?" He got in the car and pulled the hatch shut behind them. Then he keyed a button on the console. I heard clicks beside and behind me. He'd locked the car down.

  "Well then, we'll go for a little ride, won't we?"

  "Please..." I said dumbly. "Don't take me back."

  "Sorry, darlin'. I'd keep you for myself, if I could. You'd be more trouble than I could handle, though, and the city pays a nice, fat reward for returning an escaped slave. Now, you just come along quietly, and –"

  I remembered the money I'd picked up. When I'd dressed, I'd hidden it in a pocket. "How much will they pay you?" I asked.

  He looked at me suspiciously. "Why is that any of your business?"

  "Because I might be able to pay you more, to take me away from here." It was a bluff. I could barely count. I had no idea how money worked. Did I have more than they would pay him?

  "Might you?" he asked. "And where would a feral get money to pay me?"

  "What do you care, as long as you get paid?"

  He nodded. "Okay. Good point. How much do you have?"

  This was it. Would it work? I reached in, pulled out a few of the thin slips of plastic and, handed them to him.

  "That's half of what I'll give you. You can have the rest when I get out of the car."

  This was a trick I'd learned at home. The customers who came to use us often paid half up front, not handing over the rest until they knew we'd show them a good time.

  He smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "How'd you know I won't just take this, and add it to my reward money once I turn you in?"

  "I don't," I said, swallowing hard. "But I do know that, if you try to stop at the auction block, you won't live to open the hatch." I leveled my eyes with his and glared hard. "They were gonna sell me because I killed someone with my bare hands. It wouldn't bother me to do it again, if someone did something to hurt me."

  He stared back at me for a minute, then he laughed. Now his smile was kind of nice. "I like you, little girl."

  "I mean it," I said. "I'd rather die than go back there, and I'd sure kill someone else, if I had to."

  "I bet you do mean it," he agreed. "It's a deal, then. Half now, half on delivery. Where am I delivering you?"

  "Ummm..."

  "A word of advice," he said. "There's nowhere on Den that they might not find you. I'd get the hell off planet, if I could. You can work your way to just about anywhere if you get on the right ship at the spaceport." He looked me up and down and added, "And a pretty thing like you might not even have to work."

  "The spaceport, then," I said. It would get me away from here. Then where would I go?

  * * *

  The spaceport on Den would have been exciting, if I'd had time to enjoy it. Ships from everywhere, because people come from all over to do business on Den. It's in Confederate space part of the time, in Qraitian space part of the time. It's also right at the edges of Varthan Freespace. The laws are pretty shifty, and pretty much anything goes. Anything can be bought, sold or traded. It was
where the "nice" people of the Confederacy came when they wanted to do business that wasn't so nice.

  There were so many people coming and going that it was easy to disappear into the crowd. It was especially easy for me, because most people are taller than I am. I can disappear behind just about anyone. I can also slip into spaces other people wouldn't fit into, and dive between a pair of legs to get away if I have to. I also had the coat I'd taken from the dead girl's bags, which hid most of my grey skin from view. It even had a hood. A coat doesn't look out of place on Den, because it pretty much rains there all the time.

  I had no idea where I wanted to go. I also had no idea how to pick a ship and know where it was headed. I also couldn't just walk up to a gangway and ask to board a ship without a ticket. Even with the money I had left, they'd ask too many questions. My driver friend had told me my best bet was to sneak aboard, hide until the ship took off, and then work out a deal for passage. Most Captains, he promised me, won't put someone out an airlock unless they absolutely refuse to work, or somehow endanger a ship. "And no one would put a pretty thing like you out an airlock," he'd said.

  There was a line of people waiting to board on of the big cruise ships. I joined that line. It would make me look less suspicious, if I acted like just another passenger while I figured out what was what. Bodies pressed in around me. I kept the coat pulled tightly around me, not wanting any of my skin to show. I heard some tourist boys jeering that it looked like rain. I ignored them.

  At the front of the line were the scanners. They were checking tickets, asking where people were going, and searching bags for weapons. I didn't want to try to get past that, I thought. I'd just move in this line long enough to let me figure out –

  Then I saw him: Master Harl.

  How had he gotten here so fast, I wondered? Had the driver turned me in, after all? No. It must have just made sense that I would come here. He was searching through the crowd, stopping people and talking to them. In his hand, he carried a little holo image. I knew about holos. Many of the masters had holo projectors. This one showed an image of me.

  I dove forward, between the legs of an old Quintil man who was shouting at his wife for spending too much money at the shops. He nearly tripped over me, and shouted some filthy words I didn't know as he fought to keep his balance.

  I didn't stay to listen. I moved through the crowd as quickly as I could, my skin tingling and the hairs on the back of my neck rising as I imagined Harl's steely grip closing about my arms. Hardly looking where I was going, I threw myself forward. A huge shape loomed ahead, shadowing that section of the concourse. A cargo transport. Its holds stood open, yawning black holes. Robots loaded crates and flats inside, automatically scanning and verifying the contents, as a few disinterested humans sorted through lists of items that were either missing or shouldn't have been there and were.

  The humans hadn't seen me. I wondered if the robots were programmed to notice intruders. I looked back. Harl was still nearby. He hadn't seen me, but was moving my way. I had little choice. I ducked past a robot's huge treads and under its pincer-like arms, and into one of the holds. It was dark inside. I moved down an aisle formed by towering stacks of crates, tied down by retaining cables and nets for zero-G travel. I crouched in an alcove between two such stacks, and I waited for the shout or the rapid footsteps which would let me know I'd been discovered.

  They never came. Once, I heard Harl's voice come close, but then it drifted away again. I expected the lights to come on. They didn't. I expected a final tour of the hold by cautious, human inspectors. There wasn't one. They'd loaded the cargo in this section, and they were done. Within the hour that I crouched there, during which my legs fell completely asleep, the huge doors to the hold were closed. I was alone in the near dark. I knew that soon the cargo transport would be catapulted into atmosphere, to be caught and towed by a freight tractor. When that happened, if I wasn't secure, I would be tossed about and probably banged and bruised to death. I didn't know much about space travel, but I knew that much.

  It occurred to me that the cargo within the crates, held only loosely in place by nets, was safe from collision with other objects. If I were in a crate, I should be safe too. There was only a little light – emergency cells in case the ship lost power. I used it to find my way to the top of the net closest to me. It wasn't easy. I imagine it would be impossible for most species, but our muscles are better than those of most species. That's the way we're bred. I made the top of the safety net, slithered inside, thunking my knee against a crate. I suppressed my urge to cry out at the pain.

  The second crate I came across was large enough, and the latch wasn't secure. I opened it, dumped the contents – a few very expensive-looking gadgets and a lot of packing material – to the bottom of the net, and climbed in. I pulled the top shut, and, making sure it wasn't airtight, I tied it shut from within with the soft belt from my dress.

  And then the loss of blood, the leftover grog in my body and the excitement of the day all caught up with me. I slept.

  * * *

  I woke up because someone was shaking me roughly. It was a human man. A boy, really, barely older than I was. He had bad teeth. His breath stank. A beard was starting to grow on his face, but he was so dirty all over that I couldn't tell if he was growing it on purpose, or just never bothered to shave.

  "Out," he said roughly.

  "Where am I?" I asked. I wasn't in the transport's hold any more. My crate had been moved while I slept. I was still in a hold, but this one was brightly lit, and much bigger.

  "You ain't askin' the questions," said the boy. "How'd you get in there?"

  "I – I fell asleep," I said lamely. "I... I was at the spaceport, and I got lost– "

  His mouth hung open. "The spaceport? You tellin' me you rode the cargo carrier into orbit? Damn, bitch, you lucky you didn't get yer brain shook loose. How'd you know if there'd even be air?"

  To tell the truth, I hadn't even thought about air. I guess there was no guarantee cargo would be kept where there was air, was there? But I wasn't going to tell this boy I'd been so careless.

  "I told you I fell asleep," I said. "I didn't mean to wind up... here."

  "Yer on the Arbiter, stupid," he told me. Then he saw the bulge in my pocket where I'd put my found money, and where some of it was sticking out into view. "And whatcha got there?" he asked, reaching his hand out toward it.

  Before he could touch me, I grabbed that hand and twisted it backward at the wrist, a trick I'd learned in the barracks back home. He screamed and pulled away from me. I let him go. I figured I'd made my point. "That's mine," I said. "And call me 'bitch' or 'stupid' again, and I'll break your arm."

  He shook his head. "Ask me, you's plain crazy, girl. I oughtta toss ya out the airlock."

  "You can try," I said back. I sounded a lot braver than I felt.

  "Too bad I can't," he said. "This here's a military ship. Captain won't let us space anyone, without his order." He looked hatefully at me. "Damn shame, too. Come with me."

  "Like hell," I said.

  "Look," he sighed, "If ya don't come with me, the Captain'll send an armed squad to arrest you. Or kill you. I don't care which. Prob'ly they won't, neither."

  "Where do you want me to go?" I asked.

  "To see the Captain."

  "Can he give me a job?"

  He wrinkled his nose. "A job?! He ain't gone give no job to no stow'way!"

  "Then who can give me a job?" I asked.

  "Nobody! I mean... If anyone's gonna give you a job, it'll be the Captain. But he won't."

  "We'll see," I said. "Take me to him."

  He shook his head again. "Yes, yer highness. Right this way."

  * * *

  The Captain's name was Joncyn Miles. He was shorter than me, but he was heavier. He looked middle-aged to old. His hair was mostly grey. I expected him to be harsh and nasty, like the masters when they caught a slave stepping out of line. He wasn't. If anything, he seemed bored. He asked me
to sit down in a chair next to his desk. No man had ever asked me to sit down before.

  "What's your name, girl?"

  "Aer'La."

  "Aer'La. Hmph. Citizenship?"

  "I – what?"

  "What planet are you from?" he asked, a little irritably.

  "I... I don't know."

  His eyes went wide.

  "That is... I never knew its name. I was on Den, when I... I got into one of your carriers."

  "They say you fell asleep."

  "Yes."

  "In a cargo crate, at a spaceport?"

  "I, uh... "

  "You were hiding," he said knowingly. Could he read my mind? I'd heard some people out in space could read minds. What would be the point of lying? Even if I could lie, I wasn't sure I needed to. Miles seemed reasonable enough. Maybe I could get him to help me.

  "I was. There's... there's someone looking for me."

  "Parent?"

  "Don't have any."

  "Police?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Have you done something wrong?"

  "No," I said automatically. Then I saw Jin's lifeless eyes, looking right through me as I held her twisted neck in my hands. "I mean... that's not why they're looking for me."

  "No warrants, then?"

  "No what?"

  He smiled. "I believe you'd know, if there were any." He slapped his knees deliberately and leaned back in his chair, stretching his spine. "Well, Aer'La, you present me with a problem."

  "I do?"

  "Yes. I have to decide what to do with you. I'd send you back to Den –"

  "Please don't!"

  "Rule one aboard ship, Aer'La: don't interrupt the Captain."

  "Sorry."

  "It's forgotten. At any rate, I can't put you off at Den. We made our Lindstrom jump hours ago. We're back in normal space, halfway to the next conjugate."

  "I don't know what that means," I admitted.