by Elin Wyn
“Can we go around them?”
Mack eased The Queen to port. And the cloud of ships moved with eerie synchronicity, keeping us away from the Daedalus.
No matter how we moved, they blocked us.
“We can't go there. I can’t go home.”
No, he couldn't. But I worried about something else.
“Mack, they knew we were here so fast. How could they know we were coming? They didn’t have time to pick us up on sensors and get into formation.”
The question snapped him out of his trance. “Wherever my brothers are, they wouldn't still be here. Not with Hunters around. No one would be. It's just an empty ghost now.” But he stared long at the ships facing us. “I want answers.”
So did I. Brothers, Hunters, I wanted answers to it all.
But first things first.
As one, the swarm of Hunters slowly advanced.
“I don't think they want us here anymore,” I whispered.
“I don't want to be here, either.” He glanced over. “You think you're pretty sure how that weird engine works?”
“I think so. Maybe. I've seen specs for it.”
“Good enough. Let's make sure they can’t follow us, then.” And, over my protests, he slapped the fold engine on.
For a second, I was pulled in every direction, turned inside out and then back again.
And, suddenly, it stopped.
We were in orbit around Orem Station, Minor blinking above us.
“You were right.” Mack caught his breath faster than I did, but even he had a slight tremor to his voice. “Let's not do that again unless it's absolutely necessary.” I nodded my agreement. “But I'm glad we’re not there anymore. Let's take her in.”
As we left The Queen’s bay, I touched Mack’s arm. He froze but didn't pull away.
“We need to go see Granny.”
“No. You need to go back to the hive. Tell her the ship’s running fine. More than fine.”
He was stalling me, but something had to be said.
I touched the back of his neck, where the marks of the mind wipe had faded almost to invisibility. “But there's more to it, and you know it.”
Mack’s eyes bored into mine, demanding questions I couldn’t yet answer. “And of everyone down here we know, Granny seems like she might be able to help.”
He snorted, and his fingers wrapped around mine. A little bit of the heavy weight fell away.
“Void knows, she knows everything else. Let's go.”
For once, Granny seemed surprised to see us. “Everything all right, children?”
“The Queen checked out just fine,” I said. Mack still looked stunned. For now, I’d talk for both of us. “Interesting little surprise in the engine room.”
She smiled. “Thought you'd find that.”
“That checked out fine, too. Which turned out to be a good thing.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly, but that was the only indication she gave of the significance of what I had said.
“If you've got time, we'd like to talk to you about a few things we found on our trip.”
She looked between us, then nodded. “Come on back. Marga, if anybody comes by, tell them I'm out for a bit.”
A chorus of children's voices drowned out any response Marga might've made.
As we went down the hallway, I caught a glimpse of the blonde woman we'd rescued that morning from the ghosts. “Is she all right?”
“She will be.”
Granny Z stopped at a door and slid open a panel. She entered a code sequence. Nothing happened for long seconds, then Mack pulled me back as the wall before us opened into blackness.
“Sounded like we might need a little more privacy than usual, to talk about your trip.” She stepped through into the dark. “Hurry up, children, the door’s timed to close quickly.”
Instead of going up, to where I had thought most of the living spaces were located, we went down, under the hive, under the decking of the level.
“Where are we?” I wondered, looking around as the narrow stairway suddenly opened up into a room ablaze with light.
“I'm an old dragon, and this is my horde.” She sat at a round table, its wood surface gleaming with age.
It wasn't a bad description. Every nook and cranny was filled with countless mementos.
At a glance, I would guess only a small portion had any value other than for the memories, but some of those that did… It was no wonder Granny Z wasn't worried about charging her guests for credits.
“I'll give you a walk through the museum anytime,” she said dryly. “But I don’t think that’s why you wanted to talk.”
I looked at Mack, but he seemed lost in thought. I didn't know how, but if the memories were returning, I hoped it was for the best.
“Do you have any way to find and extract a tracker from a person?”
Granny blinked. “That was a little more upfront than I'd expected from you. Any particular reason you're wondering?”
“Yes.”
She didn't ask any more questions, just wandered into a corner of the room, rooting through shelves and muttering.
Mack turned to me. “You think there's a tracker.”
I guided him to a chair at the table. “Something was obviously done to you. Those ships, those Hunters, they knew you were there the instant we dropped out of warp. Almost like they knew to expect you.” I took a deep breath. “I think when your memories were taken, you were tagged, yes.”
Anger narrowed his eyes, tightened his jaw. “Get it out.”
Granny came back with a scanner several generations newer than what was up at the clinic. I looked at it, then her. “And I'm the one that's not upfront?”
She shrugged and handed it over. “You just don’t ask the right questions.”
“Let’s start with the easy places.” I ran the scanner down one arm, then the other. Nothing.
Over the broad plains of his chest, hotly aware that the scanner followed the same path my hands had taken down his skin the night before.
“Turn around, son.”
Across the breadth of his shoulders, then... “There it is, the little bastard.”
The scanner lit up again as I rechecked. There is was, right under Mack’s left shoulder blade.
He stiffened.
“At least we know about it now, right?” I rubbed his shoulder. “Come on, let’s see about getting it out.”
Mack slid his shirt off and I caught my breath.
Granny’s eyes met mine and, for the first time, she looked shocked.
His back was covered in scars, thick and thin ones, straight and curved, until it was a tapestry of pain.
I ran my hand down the skin. The texture was smooth, but the marks told their own story.
How could I not have known?
Then I kicked myself. Easily enough. I'd never seen his back in the light.
“I think we’ve found the cause of some of those nightmares,” I whispered.
Mack shook his head. “Other stuff to deal with first.”
Maybe. What I saw couldn’t be forgotten. But if he could deal with it, so could I.
“There it is.” I found the insertion mark, blended in with the rest of the scars.
I pressed, and could feel it just under the skin. “Doesn’t look like we’ll have to get too deep into the muscle.”
Granny stood up again. “I've got a little bit of numbing agent upstairs, keep it around for the kids.”
“Got a knife down here?” I couldn’t blame Mack for the carefully controlled rage in his voice. “Use it.”
While Granny took a surprisingly long time to find a blade, he wrapped his arm around my waist and rested his forehead on my chest.
I started to speak, but he shook his head. “No. Nothing else until we get this thing out of me. Please, darlin’.”
The anger had passed from his voice, leaving only exhaustion.
I stroked his hair in silence until Granny returned. “Here we are, chi
ldren. Let's do this.” She started, then handed me the blade. “Your hands are probably steadier than mine these days. Don’t tell anyone, though.”
It wasn't deep. I had the tiny dull brass disk out and in my hand almost as soon as I'd made the first cut.
“What do we do with it?”
“Give it to me.”
“I have a better idea,” Granny said. “I'll be right back.” She took the tracker and disappeared back up the stairs.
Mack reached for his shirt.
“Wait for me to bandage it, or we’re going to have to go shopping for more shirts for you as well.”
But the cut had already started healing.
I thought about that. Thought about what I knew or guessed about him. How deeply and how often the cuts would have to have been made to leave scars like that.
Granny came back smiling wickedly.
“Gave it to the children. Told them to take turns hiding it. I'd give them each fifteen credits if they made sure it was in the worst smelly places they could find.”
Her smile faded. “Is this to do with what's happening on Minor?”
Mack and I looked at each other, startled. “What do you know about that?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I know more about the station and that place than probably anybody alive. People are being taken off the streets of my station. Maybe not always good people, but still, my people. People they think no one will miss. Up they go. And, in time, away.”
I sat suddenly, knees shaking. The prison was just a convenient place to stash me when I made trouble, was somehow discovered copying over the files. Wasn’t it?
What if it was another piece of the puzzle? What if it was the key?
Mack’s arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind, and I leaned into him, into his support.
No more choosing. No more lies.
I reached up for his hand, twining my fingers with his, and started the story.
It didn't take long to untangle it all. The mission, the evidence I'd found of collusion between the station's governor and the criminal syndicates. Worse, the large transactions I couldn’t trace.
We had a mystery player in the game, and in my bones, I knew it was a deadly opponent.
“Maybe,” I finished up. “Maybe the prison is just another part of that. Maybe they need people for some reason, to be moved to Minor, where they can get the labor out of them.”
Granny Z nodded. “And when they’re not useful even there, the ghosts come.”
“When nothing else is left, they’re still bodies, still parts.” Mack rubbed his head. “That’s always going to be useful to someone.”
Mack
Granny stood up. “Well, that's put me right off my lunch.”
I couldn't even think about food. Not about anything. I hadn't been tired before, but now all I wanted to do was sleep.
Zayda rubbed my shoulder, well away from where she had cut the tracker out of me.
“I'd ask if you’re all right, but that’d be pretty stupid right now.”
“We've got a big puzzle to figure out, and I'm missing half the pieces. Who knows, maybe a few more nightmares will give us something to work with.”
Her face blanched, and I hurried to reassure her. “I'm kidding, but I wouldn't mind some rack time.”
“Of course.” She stepped away, eyes looking anywhere other than at me.
The hell with that. “I'm too tired to fight, darlin’. Come with me?”
She took my outstretched hand and together we went back to the room above.
I settled in while she blanked the narrow window and then crawled under the covers.
I wrapped my arms around her. I hated myself for saying the words, for being weak. But I had to know.
“You're not leaving?”
“No, I promise.” She wrapped around my arm. “Go to sleep.”
I've been half joking about trying to get more information from my nightmares, but I wasn't going to turn it down if offered - the next trick would be remembering.
Slowly, I pieced together the fragments from the previous nights, until it started again.
Once more, I was in the room, strapped down. This time, I recognized the men and their questions.
The ghosts from Orem. My brothers and I had called them Hunters. We’d worked with them before, if uneasily. Why were they the enemy now? I tried to look at the room, remember any other details that would help us, but the memory was gray. Either I hadn’t seen it, or it hadn’t been important.
And then the questions came, and the pain.
That's enough, Mack. Come back.
I slipped into happier dreams.
Hours later I lay with Zayda snuggled in my arms. “What do you think normal people do on days when they just want to stay in bed?”
She giggled. “I wouldn't know. We could watch triD, maybe clean house? I’ve got it - go shopping!”
I wrinkled my nose. “I've got a better idea.” I ran my hand under the edge of her tank, the last of the dreams dissolving in the feel of her silken skin.
Until she swatted my hand. “Not until you're done healing.”
Flexing my shoulder didn’t bring any pain. “I’m pretty sure I’m fine.” I reached for her again, but she squirmed behind me to check.
“You’re right. It’s closed now. Can’t even tell where it was.”
There was something wrong in her voice. I pulled her back, searched her face.
“What is it?”
“Someone hurt you, badly.”
“Yeah, starting to remember that part. Sort of wish I didn’t.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “How are you not furious about this?”
I pulled her down to my chest and thought. There was a reason. A good one.
But saying it aloud risked driving her away, breaking whatever fragile bridge we were managing to build.
Still. She had to know.
“Somewhere, locked inside me, there is a raging, howling beast ready to kill anything in my way. And if it gets out, before we know who the target is, I don't know who could end up hurt, or worse.”
After a long silence she kissed the side of my neck. “As long as you let me help figure it out, I'm alright with that.”
We spent the day doing exactly as she said, lounging around, watching triD, and napping.
In the evening, one of the kids brought two bowls of fragrant rice topped with chopped chunks of curried something or other on the top.
Zayda opened the door dressed only in my shirt.
The kid's eyes were wide, not at the gorgeous sight of her, but about something else entirely.
“Granny says you can eat in your room”, he wondered, looking at her. “Nobody gets to eat away from the table. Are you grounded?”
Zayda took the tray from him with a smile. “Maybe for a day or two. But she’ll forgive us.”
I flicked through channels, mostly celeb heads and old historical seridramas that made no sense to me. “I don’t know who these people are, what they did, or why anybody cares.”
Zayda poked me. “Somehow, I don't think that's because of the memory loss.”
She handed me a bowl, then stared at the screen.
“Wait! Go back one!”
Flicking back, I stared at the screen, then at Zayda’s enrapt face. “Really?”
“Shh...” She settled down next to me, transfixed by the story, dinner forgotten. All I saw were a lot of people in what looked like old-fashioned outfits, arguing a lot.
“What is this?” I whispered, and nudged her bowl. “Eat.”
“It’s the story of the Runaway Concubine, haven’t you seen it? Never mind, stupid question. But it’s probably the most famous interlude in the entire reign of the previous Emperor.” She giggled. “And he’s the bad guy.”
There was no way out of it. “Alright, catch me up, darlin’.”
“A family owes an enormous debt to the Imperial house. They can’t pay it, so the father decides to sell off
his youngest daughter as a concubine to the Emperor.”
I bumped her bowl, and she took another absent-minded bite, watching the man and woman on the screen argue. Or make love. It was a little hard to tell. “So, this is her and the Emperor?” I studied the guy again. “Would have thought he’d have better clothes, even back then.”
“No, silly.”
My hand froze on the way to my mouth. Chances were good no one had ever called me silly before. If we ever found any of my brothers, I could ask. But for now, I kinda liked it.
“That’s the notorious smuggler Bryn Volante. He finds her hiding in the cargo bay of his ship…”
Zayda turned to me, eyes alight. “The Queen.”
“Wait, what?”
“His ship was named The Queen. She ran away with him, and the two of them became famous outlaws. Out of his embarrassment, the Emperor sent entire divisions to capture them.” She frowned. “Maybe that’s more from the films than history, but still, he couldn’t have been happy about it.”
“How do you know so much about this, anyway?”
“The most romantic story in the history of the Empire? Because, like about a million other little girls, I was named for her.”
She poked me with the back end of her chopsticks again. “And that clinches it, why Granny thought my name was so funny.”
“Wait a minute. You think our new landlady is a runaway princess?”
“Concubine.”
“Whatever. Granny Z is really a pirate queen? Can’t be. What happened to the girl and the smuggler?”
“That’s it! They disappeared, were never found.” She put her bowl down, forgotten in her excitement. “Think about it. It explains everything. An antique ship with an engine like that, her secret room of treasures, the name of the ship....”
“Her comfort level with blades, trackers, and extensive medical gear.”
Zayda hit me with a pillow.
“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t do us any good.”
She thought about it. “Probably not.” She slumped back against the wall. I took our bowls, tidied the tray, and waited. “I guess I just wanted something to be simple.”
“Lots of things are simple.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” I kissed her, deep and slow. “You and me, what we have. We’re simple.” I ran my hand down the side of her face, watching her eyes soften, her mouth grow lax. “Everything else - pirate queens and Hunters and spies and governors - we can deal with it later. I want you now. Simple enough?”