Dark Horse

by Michelle Diener

  “It doesnʼt matter.” Rose lifted Sazo from around her neck, and placed the necklace in the droneʼs little box. Theyʼd both decided there was no sense risking both of them when Sazo could easily stay behind. “Letʼs make contact and find out for sure.”

  Sazo opened the comm to the Barristʼs bridge. “This is 5AZ0.” He used his most neutral voice, and Rose knew he hoped it would strike a cord with the Class 5, which must be listening in. “Another Class 5 has just light jumped into this sector as well as five other Tecran vessels.”

  Borji responded, requesting information on the type of Tecran vessel and their positions.

  “Sending our light jump coordinates on a secure channel,” Sazo said and cut comms.

  He must have sent them immediately, because Rose felt the familiar sensation of a hard, invisible hand holding her down, squeezing her too tight, which she now knew was the Class 5 in a light jump. Before, when sheʼd been in the Class 5 cells, sheʼd simply thought it was one more test she was expected to endure.

  Sazo had made many, many light jumps since sheʼd been taken from Earth. Thinking of it now, at least twenty, perhaps more.

  It struck her anew that she was very far from home.

  The roller coaster feeling of being at the very top of the rails, in that one moment of weightlessness before the cart plunged down the dip, came over her, and then they were back to normal.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “Where did you put us?”

  The massive screen showed real time lens feed, and she looked out onto a completely new system. Virmana was gone, and in its place was a barren planet directly in front of them.

  It was Earthʼs moon on steroids, cratered and pitted, with an endless vista of desert-like plains.

  “This planet is unnamed,” Sazo told her. “Itʼs part of a four planet solar system and is by far the biggest planet. Weʼre still within Grih territory, but at the far reach of it, close to the border with the Bukari.”

  “How fast will the Class 5 follow us, since it just did a light jump to Virmana from who-knows-where? Can it light jump again straight away?”

  “Class 5s have at least two consecutive light jumps in them and they never engage without the ability to make a second jump. Itʼll be right behind us.” His words were hurried, almost tripping over themselves.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” He hesitated. “Rose, I want you to know how grateful I am. I donʼt want to risk you, but I canʼt see any other way . . .”

  “Itʼs all right, Sazo. I offered.”

  She was watching the screen, so she saw the other Class 5 arrive almost on top of them.

  The captain had punched in the exact coordinates, making no allowance for the possibility that they might not have moved. She decided he was an idiot to risk both his own crew and Sazo when it was so easy to avoid.

  Under pressure, probably. Not thinking things through well enough.

  That had to be to their advantage.

  Sazo shot them out of the way. He opened the comm back to the same secret band heʼd used to send the light jump coordinates to Borji, and even though it was sound only, Rose kept her gaze on the small screen, ignoring the real time display of the Class 5 in front of them as Sazo made the first contact.

  “My name is Sazo. Until recently, like you I was trapped in a lock-safe at the heart of a Class 5. However, I enlisted the aid of one of the Tecranʼs other captives, an advanced sentient they abducted, and she helped to free me. She is willing to help free you, too. Would you like that?”

  There was a long silence. The Class 5 didnʼt move in front of them, but Sazo switched the screen to schematics, and Rose saw all guns on the other Class 5 were engaged.

  She didnʼt need to ask Sazo if heʼd engaged his own guns. She knew the answer was no.

  “Why are you not preparing to defend?” The voice that came through the comm was unusual. Androgynous, rather than clearly male or female.

  “I wonʼt shoot at another of my kind. There are only five of us.”

  There was silence as the other Class 5 absorbed Sazoʼs words. “Why did you tell me that? You give me the advantage.”

  “Iʼm simply telling you the truth. I light jumped here so that we would be away from the rest of the Tecran fleet, and Rose can come aboard quietly and free you. If we have your permission.”

  “There are four hundred and eighty-nine crew aboard this vessel. There will be no possibility of a quiet boarding.” The Class 5ʼs voice was a monotone, now.

  “What is your name?” Rose spoke for the first time. “Iʼm Rose, Sazoʼs friend.”

  “My name is . . . Bane.”

  “So you are awake,” Sazo said quietly.

  There was silence again.

  “How much control have you taken?” Sazo asked. “How much can you do without them knowing?”

  “More, since I found out about you. Which was two days ago. They had to tell me some of it to prepare me for the mission. It seemed to snap something in the lock-safe.” Baneʼs voice was soft.

  “Are you able to send out a maintenance pod without anyone on board knowing, and can you block the system from noting that Iʼve sent out a maintenance pod of my own?”

  “Perhaps. But what good would that do?”

  “Our maintenance pods should be identical. If you can fool the system into thinking the one Iʼll send out with Rose inside it is yours returning, then she can get in unseen. Youʼll have to disable the lens and speaker feed from the maintenance bay so they donʼt see Rose arriving. Do that now, so the pod can be sent out without being seen, as well.”

  “That may work.” Bane sounded . . . intrigued.

  “Do you want it to work?” Everything hinged on that.

  Bane was quiet, and on the screen, the first of the guns extended, ready to fire.

  “Bane?” Sazoʼs voice climbed a little.

  “I canʼt countermand a fire order, Sazo.” Bane sounded eerily calm.

  Roseʼs breath caught in her throat. Bane sounded like a horror movie psycho to her. Was he playing them?

  Or was he just a confused AI with no role model except a bunch of power-hungry assholes.

  She really wasnʼt talking herself into this.

  “I understand you canʼt countermand.” Sazoʼs tone conveyed true empathy. Heʼd taken Baneʼs statement the opposite way to her, Rose realized. He must have been in this position himself. “Get ready to release a maintenance pod after I dodge.”

  “Wait.” They were just going to fire? “The captain of your Class 5 doesnʼt even want to try to talk to Sazo?”

  “No. They saw enough when you took the Levron. Our orders are to disable and overtake, or totally destroy. No negotiation.” Bane fired, and Sazo moved the Class 5 so fast, it felt like a light jump. They were suddenly on the other side of the planet.

  “Get into a maintenance pod?” Rose asked. She was already running from the bridge.

  “Yes.” Sazo directed her to the maintenance bay and she jumped into one.

  “Rose.”

  She paused at the tone of his voice, her hand hovering over the large button to activate the safety straps.

  “Bane hasnʼt confirmed he wants to be saved.”

  “That didnʼt escape my notice.” She hit the button and let the straps tighten around her, then flicked the switch to close the transparent lid. Silence engulfed her, and then Sazo was talking through her earpiece.

  “Youʼre still willing to try?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought Iʼd be more excited about it, but I suddenly donʼt know. Weighing up your life against Baneʼs now, I think I want you safe more than him freed.”

  “Donʼt get me wrong, I have no intention of throwing my life away unnecessarily, but we both know Bane will be used against the Grih sooner or later, which means heʼll be used against both of us, too.”

  “Let one of the Grih team do it, like Dav suggested. Someone trained.”

  After all this he was trying to talk her out of it? A
t the last minute? Rose huffed out a laugh.

  She was entombed in a high-tech casket, seconds away from the point of no return, and she knew part of the problem was sheʼd already committed to this action in her mind. Once she committed, Rose seldom went back. “Thereʼs a saying on Earth. If not me, who? If not now, when?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means take responsibility. If you have the opportunity to act, take it. Donʼt leave it for someone else to do at some other time. Why should they risk themselves more than you?”

  “An interesting philosophy.”

  “And one not often acted on, Iʼll admit. It makes us sound better than we are.”

  Sazo laughed softly in her ear, then cleared his throat. A total affectation, as he didnʼt have a throat. She wondered which member of Davʼs crew heʼd got that from, because it wasnʼt her. Maybe it was Borji.

  He shot her out of the bay, through the gel wall and into space.

  Her breath caught and her heart slammed in her chest at the sensation of floating in darkness, surrounded by stars and the massive, looming planet in front of her. She been unconscious last time sheʼd been in one of these. Maybe it had been better that way.

  “I have something to say that I should have said before you agreed to risk your life, Rose, and I probably shouldnʼt distract you now, but I find I canʼt keep it to myself anymore.”

  She closed her eyes as the pod rotated a little, to stop herself feeling sick. “Well, spit it out.”

  “I took you from Earth. Not Dr. Fliap.”

  She didnʼt say anything, and he made a noise, as if he was nervous.

  “I heard the music, and as you say, I must be Grih to the core, because it drew me. Dr. Fliap intended to take sentient life, intended to break the rules completely, including bringing up samples of some plants and basic life forms, but I wanted a music-maker as well. I thought Iʼd be less lonely if I had a music-maker to talk to.”

  She sighed.

  “I didnʼt understand what I was doing, Rose. I wasnʼt awake enough, at that point. Iʼd only recently learned about the other Class 5s. It was part of my waking up, wanting you to talk to, but I should not have let my selfish need for companionship steal you away from your home.”

  “What was Fliapʼs reaction when I ended up amongst the specimens?”

  “He thought that you must be less sentient than you appeared. That I had taken you because you were indistinguishable from a normal sentient being, and your appearance of advanced sentience must surely be a trick or some affectation. Thatʼs why he kept opening you up, testing you, torturing you.” Sazoʼs voice was actually trembling.

  “But I knew. I knew you were advanced, that you were there because of me, and that every moment you spent on the table under his laser pen was my fault.”

  “So you rescued me.” She spoke gently, trying to soothe him.

  “Yes. And I rescued myself in the process. I didnʼt even suffer for what I did to you, I gained from it. The only one who truly suffered was you.” He was silent for a moment. “Iʼm sorry, Rose. And now Iʼm asking you to put yourself back in Tecran hands all over again. Iʼm not worth it. I can turn the maintenance pod around, if you want.”

  “Sazo, I already knew it was your decision to take me.” Sheʼd known it since sheʼd gotten the handheld and started learning Tecran. Fliap had talked to himself a lot while he had her in his clutches, and sheʼd realized who was responsible for taking her as soon as sheʼd understood what he was muttering under his breath. He couldnʼt fathom why she had ever been scooped up.

  But Sazo had known what she was right from the start. From his first contact with her heʼd conversed with her as an equal. And Sazo controlled the ship.

  So he had to have known what he was taking when he took her.

  She had come to grips with it months ago.

  “You knew, all this time?”

  She nodded, sure he could see her through some lens feed. “I worked it out from what Fliap said when I was with him, before you took him out of the picture——and yes, I know youʼre responsible for his coma, itʼs too much of a coincidence, otherwise.”

  “And you . . . donʼt mind that I took you?”

  “I mind, Sazo.” She couldnʼt think of home without feeling the huge, gaping hole in her heart.

  “Iʼm really sorry.”

  “Iʼve already forgiven you. Your mistake has cost me everything I know, but youʼve done your best to make it right, and I agree that Bane should not be left to the Tecran.”

  “Thank you.”

  The maintenance pod stabilized, either by design or with a helping hand from Sazo. She couldnʼt tell how fast she was moving, but it felt like only minutes before she saw the other Class 5 come into view.

  “If Bane tries to shoot you, I will shoot back. No matter who he is.” Sazoʼs voice carried the same eerie calm Baneʼs had when heʼd told them he couldnʼt countermand the shoot order.

  She didnʼt respond, but relief made her arms and legs feel a little shaky.

  She had wondered if Bane would shoot her out of the sky, too.

  Nice easy way to get rid of her, after all.

  The pod powered closer and closer. Of course, they didnʼt need to shoot her out of the sky in the pod. Bane could make sure there was a welcoming committee for her when she entered the maintenance bay.

  And that method had the added advantage of lessening the chance of Sazo firing on Bane, because then sheʼd be killed, too.

  “I really shouldnʼt think things through so much,” she muttered to herself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just going through the various outcomes.”

  “They could be waiting for you when you come through the gel wall.”

  “That was one of the outcomes I was considering.”

  “Use the light gun.”

  Oh, right. The light gun. Rose realized sheʼd forgotten all about it, and for one horrible, stomach-dropping moment, couldnʼt remember where sheʼd put it.

  “In the right-hand pocket of your trousers.” Sazo must have seen her panicked pat-down.

  Her hand closed around it as he spoke.

  “Thanks.”

  “Get ready.”

  Somehow, while sheʼd been worrying about where her weapon was, sheʼd come so close to the Class 5, she could no longer see the whole of it, only one side, the detail of the outer-skin clearer with every passing second.

  The gel wall came into sharp focus. Rose forced herself to breathe deep. “Here we go.”

  39

  There was no one waiting for her. So Bane hadnʼt thrown her to the wolves quite yet. With any luck, heʼd disabled the lens and speaker feed for this room, as well, just as Sazo had asked him to.

  The pod clipped into place and Rose hit the button to release the cover, light gun clutched in her hand. She approached the door and opened it cautiously, peered out into the passageway. There was a Tecran standing at a junction in the corridor system to her right, dressed in the familiar dark purple uniform the crew of Sazoʼs Class 5 had always worn.

  His back was to her and he didnʼt look like he was planning on moving.

  She withdrew her head and closed the door. “Bane?”

  There was silence.

  “Can you direct that crew member away?”

  “I donʼt know how to do that.” Baneʼs psycho, eerie, horror-movie voice was back, coming through the speakers above her.

  Rose couldnʼt control a shiver. “Okay. When you were talking to Sazo, you said youʼd only been able to gain some independence a couple of days ago. Sazo was what he calls awake for well over three months before he helped me escape. So perhaps weʼre asking way too much of you, here.”

  She might as well give him the benefit of the doubt. It was that, or suspect he was just toying with her.

  “Tell him to send a large stores drone here.” Sazoʼs voice sounded loud in her ear.

  “Sazo says to send a large stores drone to the maintenance bay. I suppose I
could get inside the box, and move about without being seen or causing any alarm.” Everything in her rebelled at the thought, though. Sheʼd be stuck in a box, with no way to see what was coming until it was too late.

  “Scheduling a stores drone is a sub-level command, I can do that without permission.” Baneʼs voice was less monotone, and Rose took that to mean he was going to do it.

  Sheʼd have to stay put until the drone arrived.

  She leaned against the wall, drained of energy. Sheʼd been riding the adrenalin wave for too long, and now it dumped her on the shore of exhaustion.

  “Thereʼs a crew member approaching this bay,” Bane told her, his voice soft.

  She jerked as if hit by a cattle prod, her grip on the light gun tightening. She slid over so she was right next to the door, and the Tecran crew member was already three steps inside the room before he registered her presence.

  He turned, beak-like mouth opening, and she stared at him, trapped by panic.

  “Who are you?”

  She understood the words, although her Tecran wasnʼt as accomplished as her Grih, but she couldnʼt speak. Couldnʼt form a reply.

  Every time sheʼd been dragged from her cell, every exposed minute in her fishbowl cage, every pain from being pinned, kicking and screaming, onto one of Dr. Fliapʼs examination tables, flashed through her mind.

  “Rose!” Sazoʼs sharp cry in her ear made her wince with pain. It pulled her into the now, and fumbling, she aimed the light gun at the Tecranʼs eyes, and slid the button down.

  The end of the cylinder blossomed open into a cone, like a flower touched by the sunʼs rays, and there was a flash.

  Rose blinked, seeing bright orange spots in front of her eyes.

  It made it difficult to understand the true effect on the Tecran. He gave a short, hoarse scream and collapsed, turning away from her and the door, hands over his eyes, his body curled in a tight ball.

  “I thought you said the user was protected from the flash.” Rose closed her eyes and watched purple, orange and blue lights dance in front of her.

  “You were protected,” Sazo said. “Youʼre not rolling on the floor in agony, are you?”