by Adam Carter
“Then what are you offering me in return?”
“Offering you?”
“Are you going to take me with you when you leave? Are you going to find me a job somewhere else, working for a better employer? Are you going to liberate me, like you came here to liberate everyone else?”
“Yes, of course I’ll take you with me. I’m hardly going to leave you here if you don’t want to stay.”
She looked sadly into his eyes and slowly shook her head. “You just don’t get it, do you? This is my life, Gordon. This is what I want to do, where I want to be. Whether I have a job as a slave or a job as a free woman, I’d still be slave to something. Taxes, the government, a mortgage, whatever. We’re all slaves at heart.”
“I’m not. Iris and I, we go where we please. And Wyatt? I don’t think I’ve ever known a freer soul than his.”
“Then I’m glad you think that way, but you’re only lying to yourself.”
“Come with me and try it. Our ship could do with more crewmembers. You’d fit right in, Carla. We’re an odd bunch, so a former slave who prefers a life of subservience would be one of the more normal ones.”
She wished she could get through to him, but Gordon lived so strictly to his own set of morals that he simply could not comprehend a point of view which went so much against his own.
“I’ll help you,” she said. “I’ll help you find Iris, but only because I know what Haskell’s like. After that I’m staying here and I’m hoping Captain Gardener realises I’m an asset he can’t do without.”
“If that’s what you want, I’m through arguing with you.”
“Then let’s go. First I think we should start with where you left your ship. If Iris is heading for it and Haskell’s heading for it, we need to get there first.”
They departed the slave area together. Rayne knew she was risking everything to help this man she hardly knew, but it was her choice to make. That was the one thing Gordon would never understand: she had a choice and she was making it, regardless of what anyone else had decided for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sneaking through dimly lit corridors was precisely the type of adventure Cassiel had been yearning for ever since she had stowed away aboard Jupiter’s Glory. The amount of lighting in the corridor seemed in direct correlation as to how close she was to the crew’s area rather than just the slave cargo hold. She was tempted to dim the lights as she passed them just so she could continue the ambiance which was making her so excited, but instead opted to stay within the darker areas. If nothing else, Arowana was likely being held in such a place so it made sense to concentrate her efforts there.
She was glad Hawthorn trusted her with this, the rescue of Iris Arowana, although she was not sure what she could gain from it. Certainly to rescue Hawthorn’s lover would bring the two of them back together and all Hawthorn would do for Cassiel would be to offer her his gratitude. His gratitude was, of course, a fine thing, and perhaps it would all mount up; but as long as Hawthorn and Arowana were still together she had no chance.
The thought of abandoning Arowana flitted through her mind, but the idea was so abhorrent she dismissed it immediately and muttered a brief apology to God. Perhaps she could have a talk with Arowana, ask her how she truly felt about Hawthorn and whether she was willing to let him go so Cassiel could be happy. She was sure relationships did not work that way, but she came from such a closed society she had never come to understand the intricacies of life. Talking through her feelings with Arowana and hoping she would understand sounded reasonable to her, yet she did not seriously believe it was something Arowana would go for.
She stopped when she saw something on the floor and crouched to examine it. The red stain was unmistakably blood and the very sight unnerved her. There were spots of blood which had clearly dripped from open wounds, but there were also ugly smears where something, perhaps a bloody leg, had been dragged. Or a corpse. It occurred to her then that Arowana may well have been dead, that Haskell could have tortured her so badly that now Arowana was just a carcass to be disposed of. The thought was worrying and made Cassiel feel a little bad for being so excited about sneaking around the Obsidian on her stealth mission.
Drawing her sword, she set to following the trail. She had no idea how to use the weapon, especially in the close confines of the corridor, but if she was attacked she would swing the blade like a madwoman and was pretty sure she would be able to hit something.
The trail ended at a door and Cassiel prepared herself, steeling her nerves for the fight she may have before her. Then she noticed the picture on the door. It was a black silhouette of a man standing with legs parted and arms out. They did not have such signs on Themisto, for hers was a society which discouraged people revealing their sex, but she knew what it meant. This was a male toilet and since she was not male she had no place going inside.
She was at a quandary. Arowana could be inside, dead or dying – Haskell could even have been in there finishing the job. But it was also a male toilet area and there could have been men inside doing their business. There could be men inside with their trousers down, and if Cassiel walked inside she might see … something she didn’t especially want to see.
But then if there was indeed a woman in there torturing another to death, would any man really just be standing there doing his business into a urinal?
Cassiel’s knowledge of men did not stretch far, yet she was pretty sure the answer to that question would be no. Pushing open the door with the tip of her sword, she peered inside and hoped she was making the right decision.
The room was empty, but there was blood everywhere. It flooded the long sink, it stained the walls and pooled upon the floor. Paper towels were strewn everywhere and the first-aid box had been ransacked, open packets discarded with no regard to the cleaning staff, pieces of bandages cut off and blocking up the sink.
Cassiel gingerly opened each cubicle with her sword, but thankfully there were no men in any of them.
Breathing more easily now, Cassiel used the evidence to work out what had happened. Arowana had been wounded, grievously so, and had come to this area to patch herself up before moving on. That meant she was alive, which was a good thing, although she was in a poor state. Cassiel’s heart sank further when she thought about her excitement. She was not one to wallow in having had bad thoughts, for a quick prayer usually buoyed her up, but the thought that Arowana could be dying while Cassiel was having the time of her life did not sit well with her.
There was no longer any trail to follow, for the wounds had been staunched, so as Cassiel left the room she just continued down the corridor until she reached a junction. Here she paused, looking both ways as she attempted to ascertain any clue as to which way she should now go. To the left was gloom, to the right was gloom. But something else caught her eye: a scrap of cloth lying on the floor several metres away. Cassiel walked over to retrieve it and found it was of fine silk, stained with blood and torn from expensive attire. It told her Arowana had come this way and she continued with high spirits.
She reached the next junction and something savage leaped at her with a terrific roar. Cassiel shrieked and went down as something struck her in the face, but since she was already falling backwards it caught her only a glancing blow. It stung terribly, but as her back slammed into the floor it was shock more than anything that kept her there. She even entirely forgot about her sword.
“Oh no, I think I killed her.”
“Cass? Cassiel?”
“She’s dead, she’s dead. I killed her.”
“She’s not dead. Cass?”
“She’s dead.”
Cassiel wished they would shut up. Her head was swimming but it was beginning to clear. She could see two women standing over her, looking upon her with concerned expressions. She recognised the bloodied and battered face of Iris Arowana, although the other was a mystery to her. She was a woman with an untidy mop of dark hair and panic to her face.
“Sorry,” the str
anger said, crouching and feeling Cassiel’s forehead. She then tugged at her facemask and Cassiel panicked, grabbing hold of her wrist.
“She’s Themistonian,” Arowana explained. “Showing skin is a sin.”
“Say what?” the stranger asked. “How does she bathe?”
“Maybe she doesn’t.”
“How does she eat?”
“Alone.”
“What if she’s injured?”
“You mean if someone smacks her in the face with a piece of metal?”
“Stop it,” Cassiel said, getting back to a sitting position. “Stop arguing about me like I’m not here. Why did you hit me, anyway?”
“We laid a trap for Haskell,” Arowana said. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were going to blunder into it.”
Cassiel could see Arowana was leaning against the wall. She looked at her properly now that her brain was swimming back into focus and could see just how much of an ordeal the woman had endured. Her fancy robes were in shreds and had been used in addition to bandages in order to help with her wounds. Her side was bloodied even despite the tight bandages, and her entire body was covered with the sweat of exhaustion. Cassiel had known Arowana for only a short period of time, but had never seen her so vulnerable.
It was a frightening sight.
“This is Rosalita,” Arowana said.
“Cassiel,” Cassiel said. “We don’t do surnames on Themisto. You?”
“You know,” Rosalita said, “you’re the first one of your crew to ask for my surname. Wyatt certainly didn’t ask for it.”
“Hang about, I remember you now,” Cassiel said. “You were the one who contacted us on the Glory. You want us to take you with us and I think you were trying to blackmail us by threatening to kill Iris otherwise.”
“Yeah, that was a bluff. Glory?”
“Oops.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Arowana said. “Cassiel, have you seen Haskell?”
“No.”
“Is Gordon here?”
“Yeah, we came in together. We have a ship attached to the side of the Obsidian.”
“Is Gordon securing it?”
“Yeah, it was pretty secure.”
“I mean is he guarding it while you come to search for me?”
“Oh. No, he’s with Carla Rayne. She’s a slave, you know.”
“I don’t much care. How many can our craft take?”
“I don’t know. It’s only a short trip back to the Glory so I reckon it could fit Rosalita, too.”
“We haven’t rescued all the other slaves yet.”
“I don’t think they want to be rescued.”
“After everything I’ve been through I don’t fancy giving them the choice.”
Cassiel could hear the anger in Arowana’s tone, as well as her agony. If Haskell had managed to do this to the strongest among them she did not like to think what the torturer could do to someone as timid as she.
“Iris,” she said, “if you impose your will on these people, aren’t you doing precisely what you’re fighting against?”
“Wow,” Rosalita said, “the philosophy of the slave.”
“I’m shutting them down,” Arowana said, “if for no other reason than because of Haskell. If I have to do that alone, I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Cassiel said, getting back to her feet at last. “You have me.” She looked to Rosalita.
“Hmm? Oh, sure, you have me as well,” Rosalita said. “Got nothing better to do. And I doubt I can get off the Obsidian without you guys helping me. What are we doing, anyway?”
“We’re storming their command deck,” Arowana said.
“We’re what?”
“There are three of us. You’re a miner, right? That means you’re strong. I’m trained to fight and Cassiel’s a … ninja.”
Cassiel beamed.
“Excuse me, Iris,” Rosalita said, “but I’m not quite sure she’s actually a ninja.”
“Are you telling me Captain Gardener knows that?”
“I get you. All right, we’re storming the command deck.”
Cassiel was sure this would be a bad idea, but she was not going to argue with Arowana. She offered her a shoulder and was surprised when Arowana took it, draping one arm over Cassiel’s shoulders and the other over Rosalita’s. She really was in a bad state if she was accepting so much help from people.
They made good time. If they passed anyone they bade them a good day, made a comment about the weather and hastened on. For the most part, the crew didn’t know what to make of the strange trio and stopped to stare without making any move to stop them. Sometimes a crewmember would ask them who they were and what they were doing, but the women found that ignoring them was the best solution. Being ordinary working class people, they did not seem to know what to do about the women and invariably thought too long about it and ended up doing nothing. They would become the talk of the canteen, but no one would suspect they were on their way to seize command of the entire vessel.
Cassiel was surprised to find they had made it all the way to the command deck without anyone offering serious opposition. It seemed Captain Gardener did not employ any form of security force, or else that they had all come down with this radiation poisoning which was rampant aboard the ship.
The command deck was a lot smaller than Cassiel would have imagined for a vessel the size of the Obsidian. There were a lot of consoles, about which were several seats, but the entire place was designed as a work area for only half a dozen people or so. Gardener was there, flustering around several monitors while he attempted to do Rayne’s work, and there were two other people, both young women, who were proving they had nowhere near the level of competency as Rayne. It was good to think Rayne was essential to the running of the ship and Cassiel hoped this might prove to Arowana that not all slaves hated their lot in life.
“What’s this?” Gardener asked as he saw the three women. “What are you doing on my bridge?”
“We’re taking over,” Arowana said from where she hung between the others.
“How nice for you. Are you a good pilot?”
“I’m a terrible pilot.”
“How about your friends?”
“Don’t look at me,” Cassiel said.
“I know a little,” Rosalita offered.
“Then you make for a very poor invasion crew.” He went back to his work.
Cassiel could not believe he was ignoring them like this. Slipping Arowana’s arm off her shoulder, she drew her sword. “We claim the Obsidian in the name of … of ourselves. Surrender.”
“Surrender my ship? Why would I possibly want to do … Is she all right?”
Cassiel half-turned her head to glance at where Rosalita was helping Arowana into a seat. “No,” Cassiel said. “She’s not. You’ve tortured her, of course she’s not all right.”
“I’ve tortured her?”
“Well, Haskell.”
The two women at the consoles stopped working and looked to their captain, but Gardener set his jaw firm. “Lexie, Tomoko, get back to work,” he told them not unkindly. They did so, albeit reluctantly.
“You don’t look surprised,” Arowana rasped.
“Surprised? No. Disappointed? Yes. I’ve heard rumours about her, at how she’s severe with the cargo. I always put it down to nothing more than that: rumour. Like a schoolteacher who’s supposedly too harsh but who’s only trying to get the best out of her students. Did she really do all that?”
“Well I didn’t do it to myself.”
“No. Sorry. Stupid question. I’ll have a word with her, I assure you.”
“A word with her?” Cassiel asked. “You need to lock her away and hand her over to the authorities when you get back home.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll worry about that when we get there.”
“Matilda Sharp,” Arowana said, fighting to get her breath back after the exertion of having moved so far so quickly. “Would one of you lovely young ladies please put that
name through whatever records you have?”
“Matilda Sharp?” Gardener asked. “Who’s she?”
“Just do it.”
The crewmembers looked to Gardener, who shrugged. Thus far no one was attacking anyone, and no one was taking Cassiel’s sword seriously, so one of the women – Tomoko – typed the name through their database.
“Nothing,” she said. “She doesn’t work for us.”
“I didn’t mean she worked for you,” Arowana said. “Check the news archives.”
There was another pause while they did this.
“Missing persons,” Tomoko said. “She’s a girl who went missing a few years ago.”
“What about her?” Gardener asked.
“By the time Haskell was through with her,” Arowana said, “she would have looked a lot worse than I do now. And the only reason that hasn’t turned into a murder investigation is that Haskell is very good at covering up what she does.”
Silence descended onto the command deck. The two crewmembers had stopped working and were looking at their captain again, who was studiously avoiding everyone’s gaze.
“Do you have any proof?” he asked Arowana confrontationally.
“Of course I don’t have any proof. The only proof’s floating around in space somewhere. Check your inventory records. Have you ever had any slaves die en route?”
“Of course. It’s not often, but sometimes they have diseases we don’t know about. Like this radiation sickness, for instance.”
“Check the records for trends,” Arowana said. “I can wait.”
Tomoko and Lexie turned back to their screens and furiously tapped away at their keyboards. The only sound on the command deck was of fingers hard at work.
“Before Haskell came aboard,” Lexie said, “we had two deaths over five years. Both old men who suffered heart attacks.” She tapped for a few moments more. “Since Haskell came aboard, three years ago, there have been … seventeen deaths, not including this radiation crisis.”
“Seventeen?” Cassiel asked.
“All women,” Lexie said. “All women under the age of twenty-five. And all of them were cremated by our doctors instead of having us take them home with us.”