He touched her side, a swipe that might have been accidental but turned out to be a reach for her stunner, which he pulled free of her holster as he finished turning to face their pursuers.
No! There were too many of them. He’d die. Like Hugh. She pulled her hand back to knock the gun out of his fist, saw that he had both stunners, his and hers, pointed at Sylva and her escort. Sylva had at least three or four others with her, maybe more. Ruby couldn’t take her eyes from Onor’s to look back and see. He looked so full of purpose and fear it frightened her.
She leapt in front of his face, making sure he had no shot. “Run, you idiot,” she screeched.
“Why?” he answered, trying to get around.
“Because I need you safe.” Of course, it didn’t matter now. Her plan had been to separate from him before Sylva recognized her, give him room to escape. But now that he was pointing guns at her enemies, the only choice for either of them was to run. “Let’s go!”
She felt the weight of the stun, like a wrench hitting her in the back, and the softening of her limbs as they refused to obey her.
The floor hit her softly, her arms and legs bouncing. She felt no pain from the fall.
Above her, Onor shot two fisted, the slight recoil pushing him away from her as she fell. Her vision shrank to a point of light and stopped.
56: The Waterways
The boneless thud of Ruby’s body at his feet made Onor’s eyes sting and made his target waver in his vision. The stunners felt light in his hands, like air. Anger tightened muscles.
He recognized the woman from the test day, the severe redheaded one. He shot her.
She fell, the men behind her leaning down toward her, their mouths open in surprise.
Onor reached down and tugged on Ruby’s arm. Nothing in the feel of her body resisted his touch or his pull; nothing except breath and blood moved in her. Her eyes, closed, didn’t even flutter.
She’d become dead weight. Impossible for him to carry and run.
He glanced up.
Three reds rushed him, one with a stunner out.
He shot again. The closest man tripped over his own feet but held his weapon up, Onor’s shot too wild or too weak to bring him all the way down.
No time.
Onor dodged and raced, bruising his shoulders on the walls. He hated every step away from Ruby, expecting each to end with a graceless face-forward fall as someone stunned him.
She’d told him to get away. Tell someone.
His feet flew. Speed dried the water from his eyes, and his vision cleared as he ran. All those nights running.
Bless Conroy.
His legs moved fast, his body responsive.
Bless The Jackman.
The steps behind him sounded farther away. He didn’t dare stop and look back.
He’d abandoned Ruby.
Not that he’d had a choice. She’d known that. Told him to do it. Commanded it. Still, it ate at him, drove his feet to keep moving, to find help.
He hadn’t seen anyone yet. That must be pure luck. He needed to slow down before anyone noticed him running like a madman.
Dry breath wheezed through his chest as he jogged and then slowed further to a walk. He began to pass others, which made the level feel even more foreign. No one looked emaciated or overweight. No one looked scarred from accidents or red nosed from stim abuse or blown out from drugs.
He started to sound normal, to walk with the right movement and breath, even though he felt the need to find someone to tell, ten people to tell, like a racing sharpness in his blood.
An older man stopped and watched Onor approach.
Onor smiled while he gave the man the barest glance, trying to look like he belonged.
The man nodded, looked like he was about to say something, then nodded again and kept walking.
But surely he’d get stopped soon just for looking tired and worn out, if not for holding a stunner in each hand. He found a small galley and poured himself a glass of water.
Water.
The water system here must be like at home.
The two water systems didn’t connect. He and Ruby had tried to climb from one set of pipes to the other when he was an apprentice. But surely he could travel through this level the way he could travel at home, through the catwalks and ramps that allowed maintenance of the pipes.
He looked. There was no good access in this tiny white galley, with its clean silver sink knobs and simple storage drawers for food and utensils. He needed a bigger source of water—a common area or the kitchen or something.
After a glance in the mirror, he washed the sweat from his face and did his best to rake his disorderly hair into something presentable. He looked as scared and lost and angry as he felt, although the mirror didn’t show his shakiness. He slid his last power pack into one stunner and pocketed the other.
He checked another galley, a large bathroom, and a crèche before he found a water system access point big enough for a person. It turned out to be a closet behind a school room, the door so clean he almost missed the water symbol in the upper right.
The maintenance infrastructure here looked just like it did on the gray levels: a thin rail for the small repair bots to run around and a slender and compact walkway with just enough room for a human to walk carefully and do a visual inspection. It wasn’t any cleaner than his home systems, either.
He followed the grey-water pipe, sure it was heading outward.
A bot whirred by, shaking a tiny bit on its rail. It ignored him completely.
He saw a few more as he crawled and shimmied and sometimes walked upright through the bowels of the Fire. Hopefully the bots would all see him as a worker and part of their familiar landscape.
The pipe Onor had been tracking ended up in a group weld he’d already approached from two different angles. There were no seats in the maintenance catwalk, just awkward ways to stand or crouch. His feet hurt. His borrowed blue uniform had torn in two places where he’d snagged it on protrusions, and he had enough grease stains to lubricate a whole maintenance bot.
He stopped.
The day the sky fell and Fox and Ruby first kissed, Fox had been taken up into the sky on a flying cargo cart. It had come from this level.
He started off again, hunting an entirely new thing. Surely there was a place to dock maintenance carts and carry trash in and out and such.
When he found it, he realized he was still out of luck. There were four cargo carts in two different sizes, but none of them would obey his commands. Still, there was a hatch. No window, no way to tell where it went. It was big enough for the flying carts, but there were also hand controls, which must mean there was someplace for an uncarted human to go.
He grabbed a suit and helmet from a rack by the door. If the Fire were willing to give him any luck at all, he would get through the door and find a way between levels. If he could get to any gray pod, surely he could ride the train. It couldn’t be harder than moving safely all the way from command to gray.
The suit didn’t stink quite as badly as the ones he had used when he helped clean out his old home. Staler, and fainter, but still like trapped human. He took a deep breath and slid the helmet over his head, fastening it down to the collar ring.
“Onor.”
He startled, and then recognized the voice. “Ix.”
“Open the door now and go down.”
He didn’t understand what the AI meant until he was inside the lock, had closed the door, and heard the air hissing free. He stood on a hatch. There was just enough room to sidle to one side and reach down to pull it open. A metal stair attached to the opening let him drop through and close the hatch above him. “Why that way?” he asked.
No answer at all from the enigmatic AI.
Just like in the water maintenance byways, he now stood on a thin ladder in a tall and fairly slender opening between the levels. The turn through the hatch had kept him oriented the right way.
The ladder led to a series of be
ams wide enough to walk on and close enough together to jump from one to the other where there were no ramps. Pipes and wires lined the beams. As he stood still, trying to figure out where to go next, it looked as if the whole space breathed, or swayed, or something. His footing felt steady, so it must be part illusion from being inside the skin of the Fire in a place humans seldom went.
There were no nearby doors.
He picked a direction and started walking the beams carefully, conscious of the weight that sat above him (the blue and command levels) and of the gray level and cargo holds below.
He started toward the first hatch he spotted in a wall outside the gray pods.
“Next one.”
“Thank you.”
Damned AI didn’t bother to acknowledge even that. Onor climbed through the next hatch, which ended up being a down and then across turn, reversing what he had just done. He remembered looking up from the park the day the sky fell; the gap between levels hadn’t seemed so big then.
Home.
“So why didn’t you put me in D?” Onor complained. “I bet Ruby’s in lockup.”
Ix didn’t answer.
He started off down the tunnels, jogging, his helmet tucked under his arm but the suit still on to cover his blue uniform.
57: Waking
Ruby opened her eyes. A white ceiling above her, blank, fairly clean. She wasn’t in a bed, but on something harder and colder.
A lot colder.
Maybe the cold had woken her.
She swiveled her head to the side and found a white wall. Close, maybe a few inches from her nose.
Her muscles responded, let her move her head, but they made her work for the movement. She had to put way too much conscious thought into shifting her gaze or turning her neck.
Tired.
She wanted to go away and wake up again later. Memories floated like fluff and air, coming back slowly. Almost being caught and running and then really being caught.
That memory made her twitch.
Twitching hurt.
She took in three deep breaths, then turned the other way. Another white wall.
She pushed herself up, needing a door.
No door.
A bed—harder than a bed should be, so hard it hurt. At the foot of it, a sink and a privy.
Then a door opened.
That was a problem. A door with no handle for her.
Ellis. She had enough energy to glare at him, but barely. Spitting would have been even nicer, but she couldn’t quite get there.
He blinked in surprise for just a moment then said, “You’re awake.”
She didn’t feel any need to reply. The question closest to her tongue was why hadn’t they just killed her? She was afraid she might not like the answer to that. The next question was did Onor get away? And the third was about Joel, whether or not he was free and whether or not he was looking for her, and surely that wasn’t a good question either.
Ellis grabbed her arm, holding her close to him. She smelled sour sweat and stim breath. “Can you walk?”
“Where?”
“Can you?”
Bastard. “Maybe.”
“Do it.”
She thought about sitting cross-legged on the bed and refusing to move, but instead she let him help her down and then shook his arm off. Standing would be tough. The room spun. “Where am I?”
He just stared at her, clearly unwilling to answer.
A stunner shouldn’t have put her out so far they could carry her away and place her somewhere else. “What did you do to me?”
“We haven’t done anything to you. You started a war.”
“Not me.”
“Your endangered the ship. You’ll be put on trial soon.”
Great. “I don’t think I can walk yet.”
“I’ll carry you.”
He was an inch shorter than her. The idea was almost funny. Laughing at Ellis wouldn’t be any better than the questions she’d thought of earlier. “Give me a minute.” She lifted a foot, set it down, lifted the other, shook her arms. Her mouth tasted like metal and soap and medication. “Do you have some water?”
He pointed at the sink, backed off, and closed the door, leaving her alone in the very small space. This must have been built to keep prisoners in. She couldn’t think of any other reason for such a room to exist. So she must be in lockup. That meant she was surrounded by her people.
Ruby managed to drink using her cupped palms, use the privy, run her fingers through her hair, and get her legs used to obeying commands again by the time Ellis reappeared.
As she followed Ellis down the hall, two peacers, a man and a woman, slid in behind her. One of the peacers had white hair that contrasted with her brown skin and deep black eyes. Chitt. She winked at Ruby.
Chitt’s multicolored strand of beads wasn’t visible, but Ruby was willing to bet it was still there.
58: Gathering
Onor was almost back to the living habs on B when he heard his name. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it until he turned around and spotted Daria standing behind him.
“Come on!” she called, her voice urgent. “To Kyle’s.”
He’d been going there anyway. “I’m glad to see you.”
“We’ve been watching for you.”
“Ruby’s been captured.”
“We know that. We don’t know where she went.”
“How do you know that?” Not that he really needed to ask. Surely Ix had told them.
“The Jackman heard it from somewhere.” Daria was breathing so hard the words came out in lumps. “He sent messages every direction, but no one’s answered him yet. He’s practically torn the Fire apart looking all over for you.”
Onor was still wearing his suit. The awkward overboots clanked on the metal parts of the floor and made it hard to keep up with Daria. “How did you know where to look for me?”
“We didn’t. We hoped.”
He focused on moving as fast as he could until they got to Kyle’s door. As soon as the door opened his stomach screeched in pleasure at the smells of soup and stim leaking into the hallway.
Inside, the room was half full. The Jackman, Daria, Kyle, Conroy, and a few people Onor had seen but didn’t know.
“You’ve still got your helmet with you,” The Jackman pointed out. “Dead giveaway that you’ve been elsewhere.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a little tired.”
He threw the helmet onto a spare spot on the couch and decided not to say he hadn’t wanted to lose his connection to Ix. “Good to see you, too. You know they’ve got Ruby?”
“They?”
“The red and the same man—Ellis—from the day we took the test. Anybody remember them?” He looked around. No one from his school class was in the room.
“We know she’s been taken,” Daria said. “I told you that.”
“I need to get her.” He stripped off his suit, exposing his filthy blue uniform. “What’s the plan?’’
“I’ll get you clean clothes,” Daria offered.
“I might need these.”
“I have blues. And take the sign.” She handed him a string of beads and material so bold it screamed rebel even from a distance. But, then again, he needed to show where he stood now more than ever. It wasn’t like he was right beside Ruby to make it obvious. He put the sign over his head and let it hang over his torn shirt.
“You need to eat,” Kyle said, handing him a bowl of rich, spicy smelling soup. “We’ll fill you in.”
He lifted his spoon. He’d need strength to go after her. “I suspect she’s in lockup.”
“Eat.”
“Do you know where she is?” Onor asked The Jackman.
“No.”
Daria handed him a shirt and he changed. “So what are we going to do?”
“You’re going to eat. We’ll fill you in.”
“All right. I’m done arguing.” Besides, his stomach agreed with them. He put the spoon in his mouth. At the
first taste, his body took over, and Onor was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stop eating if he tried. After he cleaned the bowl, he looked at Kyle. “Good soup. Did the fight come here?”
“Not much,” Conroy answered. “We’re too valuable to wipe out. Ix knows it, and I think Garth does, too.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Onor asked, grinning.
“Came to find you.”
The Jackman spoke up before Onor could reply. “It was worse in E-pod. Penny’s in the infirmary there, got her head banged up.”
Not Penny! If only he could be with everyone at once. Damn. “She’s going to be okay?”
“I think so. If we keep the doctors.”
He hadn’t thought about that. There was too much to worry about at once. He held out the empty bowl for more. “We have to get Ruby before they hurt her.”
The Jackman nodded, but he looked distracted.
“We do!”
“We will. We leave in a half hour.”
That was better. Onor settled into emptying the second bowl while trying to listen to every conversation around him at once. It didn’t work very well, but he caught the tone of the room perfectly.
Ruby would have stuck her tongue out, said they were all worrying far too much, and offered up a song and maybe a dance. At least a hug. But all he felt was worried, and so tired he was cold in spite of the warm soup filling his belly.
And sad. He had let Ruby be caught. He could have stopped it. Somehow.
After he handed the bowl to a rather-too-grim Kyle, The Jackman came up behind him, close enough to talk just above a whisper. “She screwed you up, didn’t she?”
Onor swallowed, his throat too constricted for words to sneak out. What did The Jackman know? That Ruby was Joel’s bedmate now? He hadn’t really stopped running since he found that out, and now it stuck him to his chair like dead weight. He knew she didn’t love him that way, had always known that. Too bad what his head knew didn’t seem to get through to his thick, stupid, loving soul.
When he could speak, Onor kept his voice steady. “Ruby hasn’t changed at all. She’s like she’s always been, looking for a way to change the Fire so it bends to her will.”
The Creative Fire: 1 (Ruby's Song) Page 35