Song of Scarabaeus

by Sara Creasy

  Edie was about to tell Cat it was sealed when she noticed the gap between the two halves of the hatch. Her eyes followed the line of the gap down to the deck, behind Finn’s boots. He had wedged a piece of pipe there, to chock open the door.

  She rose to her feet in disbelief. “Finn…what are you doing?”

  “Rescuing you.”

  She stared at him. So he was taking control now. He was going to ruin everything.

  “Listen to me, Finn. We can’t go back.”

  He stood there, resolute, arms crossed, blocking the hatch. There was no point even trying to get past him to free the doors herself.

  “They’ll kill you.”

  “Or make me a hero for saving you.”

  Edie sighed shakily. “Trust me on this one thing, Finn. They’ll kill you. Natesa will see to it, just to spite me. They’ll separate us and let you die.”

  Her words had no impact. When he spoke again, his tone was eerily bemused.

  “Go ahead and jolt me. You can end it that easily.”

  What was he up to?

  Haller started screaming Edie’s name over the comm. The telltales flashed—he wanted visual engaged so he could see what was going on. He must be back on the bridge already. Edie ignored him and stared at Finn.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Finn drawled. “You swore never to jolt me again.”

  And then she knew his game. He didn’t care if the Crib captured them or not. It was irrelevant. He wanted to see what she would do, whether she would break her promise.

  Whether he could trust her.

  “What’s going on down there?”

  Edie slammed her palm down on the comm panel and Haller’s enraged face came into focus on the holoviz.

  “The hatch is jammed, sir.” She felt strangely calm. “Safety override is preventing the skiff detaching.”

  “You better fix the problem, young lady. You’ve got thirty seconds before that patrol ship comes into range. If they detect the launch, you are history.”

  We all are history, she mentally corrected him. She glanced up at Finn, who had not moved. “Finn’s working on it.”

  It was a full ten seconds later that Finn’s expression finally changed as he realized she wasn’t going to trigger the jolt. With a crooked smile, he turned to shoulder the hatch a fraction wider, kicked the pipe out of the way, and let the doors snap shut.

  Haller’s readouts informed him that the skiff was secure and a wave of relief crossed his face.

  “Detaching.”

  He wasted no more words and cut the connection. A slight and momentary shift in the grav field was the only indication they had broken free.

  Finn was already heading up the ramp to the cockpit. Too exhausted to follow him, Edie slumped on a crate and squeezed her hands into fists as the pain of his mistrust welled up inside her. After all they’d been through, he still needed to test her, to make sure of her, to take her to the brink of despair and force her to put her freedom in his hands.

  Seconds later, Finn’s voice on the comm spurred her into action again.

  “You better grab on to something. We’re entering the node.”

  Edie jumped up and looked for a handhold. “How long?”

  She didn’t have to wait for an answer. The skiff lurched and shuddered, and half a dozen untethered items, including Edie, lifted off the deck and sailed meters through the air in various directions before tumbling down as the grav field stabilized again. Edie crashed into the bulkhead halfway up the wall, hitting her left shoulder hard. She slid down to the deck and landed in a heap, winded. There was a moment’s panic as she tried to drag in a breath, and then a sharp pain shot down her arm as her expanding lungs pressed against her injured shoulder joint.

  “You okay?” Finn, over the comm.

  Edie moaned in response, gathered herself up and stumbled over the booster, now lying on its side. Zeke would be furious if that was damaged. In their hurry, the serfs hadn’t had time to secure everything to the deck. Part of her hoped that something really important had been smashed beyond repair.

  Finn took two steps down the cockpit ramp to look into the hold and check she was on her feet. The fact that she was staggering about didn’t seem to worry him, as long as she was alive and mobile. He beckoned her up and returned to the cockpit.

  Edie kicked a couple of crates in frustration as she crossed the deck. She went up the ramp and into cockpit, wincing as she rubbed her shoulder. The viewscreen was closed, so there was nothing to see but the blinking colors of the holoviz readouts. Finn turned in the pilot’s chair.

  “Anything broken?”

  She scowled and slumped into the seat beside him, wondering if he was referring to her bones or the equipment in the hold. “What happened?”

  “Ship this size, with no nav guidance locked on—the systems don’t cope too well with the node horizon.”

  “What do you mean, no nav guidance?”

  “The skiff isn’t supposed to jump at all. Doesn’t have the mass. The Hoi gave us a push and lent us a few seconds of nav guidance to stop us crashing into the horizon.” Finn checked the controls as he spoke, frowning at some of the displays and scrutinizing others more intently. She couldn’t tell if he was confused by the readouts or concentrating on analyzing the cryptic information.

  “You know how to fly this thing?”

  “Nope. You?”

  She shook her head.

  “Wouldn’t that be ironic,” he mused. “They give us a ship, emergency rations, and a hold packed with gigacreds worth of equipment…If we knew how to steer this boat, we’d be home-free.”

  “But you said the skiff isn’t capable of jumping by itself.”

  “Not when there’s no jump gate. But we could exit the node at a mapped point, somewhere near a system or a commercial route, get ourselves picked up, trade the junk down below for passage. Hell, that stuff would pay the galaxy’s top teckie ten times over to cut this leash.”

  “Nice fantasy.” Edie tried to get comfortable in the seat, but every move was rewarded by a sharp pain knifing through her shoulder. “Anyway, we’re on autopilot so there’s nothing we can do, even if we did know how to navigate.”

  “You could disable that in a flash.” He grinned at her. “I hear you’re good with that sort of thing. Not that it matters if we don’t have a pilot.”

  “Exactly.” She didn’t appreciate his good humor, his attempt to put the incident down below behind them.

  “Would you really have let the Crib catch us?”

  “Would you really have jolted me?”

  “No! You’re the one who backed down. I didn’t jolt you.”

  “And I didn’t get us caught.”

  “Then what exactly was that stunt all about?”

  He turned serious. “I wanted to see if you would.”

  “I promised that I wouldn’t.”

  He shrugged that off. “Just words.”

  “I just put my entire future in your hands by keeping that promise. Do you believe me now?” She’d meant to sound accusatory, even indignant, but the effect was spoiled when her voice came out choked with emotion.

  “Yes.”

  His simple answer flooded her with relief, but it wasn’t enough to wash away her disappointment at the way he’d chosen to test her. He watched her rubbing her swelling shoulder joint. He must be deliberately concealing how her pain was transmitting through the leash, but his face registered a faint look of concern. Far too understated for the agony she was suffering, in her opinion.

  Finally, he said, “You injured something?”

  “Don’t know. Hurts like hell.”

  “Must be a medkit around here somewhere.” He spoke offhandedly, turning back to the console. “Try the lockers down there.”

  Edie dragged herself out of the seat and used her good arm to pull open the hatches that covered well-lockers under the deck, one by one, angrily slamming them back down again. She blinked away tears, furious with herself for gettin
g hurt, furious with Finn for not caring.

  Each locker was three meters deep with a ladder down one wall, and contained crates of rations, various tools, and EVA suits dangling off their racks like deflated life-sized dolls. She found a large medkit and hauled it up onto the deck. The case opened out to reveal the usual first aid equipment, mostly geared toward stopping bleeding, restarting hearts, and opening airways—not useful right now. There was a portable imager that would give her an internal view of her shoulder, but she couldn’t even find the on switch. She found the manual and started to scroll through it before coming to the conclusion that she’d rather suffer the pain than take a crash course in diagnostic anatomy.

  Finn crouched on the floor in front of her, having finished whatever it was he was doing at the flight console.

  “Take off your jacket.” He was already firing up the imager without so much as glancing at the manual. And his voice was softer now, no hint of derision.

  She attempted to comply, but couldn’t move her injured shoulder far enough to get either arm out of its sleeve. Finn helped pull the jacket off and she bit down on a cry, making him wince in sympathy. He examined her shoulder briefly through her tee by probing with his fingers, efficient and surprisingly gentle, backing off when she gasped in pain.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Raise your arm. Rotate it.”

  She could do neither very successfully and her shoulder was on fire. Finn scowled and shook his head as if to clear his mind of the signals of discomfort her brain was sending him.

  “I have to admit,” she said, “it makes me feel better to know you’re suffering along with me.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  Finn smiled, amused. So, her attempt to play the tough guy wasn’t very convincing. Watching the curve of his lips, she found the pain suddenly worthwhile.

  He produced a spike from the kit and gave her a shot in the neck. Edie relaxed against the bulkhead as the drug coursed through her system, washing away the pain. Something her doctor at Crai Institute once told her drifted through her mind…something about certain drugs not mixing well with her neuroxin-dependent biochemistry. She decided he was very, very wrong about that.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Finn pressed the imager against her shoulder blade for a minute or so, allowing the scan to run its cycle. The holoviz projected an interesting view of her joint and muscles and blood vessels, but it meant little to Edie. She was feeling so peaceful and relaxed that a diagnosis of imminent death wouldn’t have fazed her. Finn watched the holo, too, but unlike his puzzling over the flight controls, he showed neither confusion nor interest in this readout. He simply took in the information.

  “You do know what you’re doing,” she murmured as consciousness began to fray.

  After a long pause, in which his eyes remained fixed on the readouts, he responded. “Trained as a field medic.”

  “Oh. The way you handle Zeke’s rigs, I thought maybe you were a meckie.”

  He gave a shrug but didn’t answer. Why did he have to be so damned elusive about everything? He ran the scan through the autodiagnostic program and then rummaged around in the first aid kit.

  “Medic, meckie…you’re a smart man, Finn. How’d a guy like you end up a serf in the Catacombs? Did you do something bad after they caught you?”

  “You tore your supraspinatus.”

  “My what?”

  “It’s a muscle in your shoulder.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It’s not. It’s a very small tear.”

  He produced a prepackaged spike and injected it into the site of the injury. Dulled by the first spike, the pain was nevertheless severe enough to push the air out of her lungs in a groaned curse. Then the pain quickly fizzled out.

  “What was that?”

  “Synthetic matrix to speed up the repair of the muscle fibers. By tomorrow you’ll have most of your range of movement back.” He cracked open a packet of straps. “You need to take that top off.”

  She grinned. Couldn’t help herself. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  His head ducked as he concentrated on unrolling the supplies, but she caught his smile. She let him unzip her tee and ease it off her left shoulder. Instinctively, she drew the other half of the garment across her chest for modesty, though she didn’t really care what he saw. Didn’t care about anything anymore, although she wished he would meet her eyes. He was examining the shell between her collarbones while his hands unraveled the straps. The turquoise shimmer reflected in his dark eyes.

  He really was looking rather longer than he should.

  “That’s not very professional,” she whispered, and his eyes flicked to hers with a gleam of something she’d never seen before. Something inappropriate. Playful desire? So hard to tell with this man, and whatever it was, it was quickly doused.

  He began strapping her shoulder, and her brow furrowed as she considered the mystery of who he really was.

  “Will you tell me why you’re still a serf? Why didn’t they send you home after the war? Were you an assassin?”

  He barked a laugh. “A what?”

  “Cat said the Saeth were assassins who messed things up for everyone.”

  “Cat’s parroting the Crib line.”

  “Tell me the truth, then.”

  “Some other time.”

  He pulled firmly on the strap and tied it off. He was so close, she could reach out and touch the scar on his throat. Didn’t realize she’d done so until it was too late.

  “What about this? Tell me why they snagged you.”

  “Tell me why the first thing you did was take it off.”

  “To win you over.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “No, there’s no more.” She frowned, thinking he was right, there must be something more, and while she struggled to control her thoughts she watched her fingers move up his neck, over the sharp angle of his jaw. Felt the roughness of his cheek and the smoothness of his lips. “I like the sound…” She couldn’t tell if she was speaking out loud. Her tongue felt thick and lazy, and the words didn’t come out right. “I like the sound of your voice.”

  He captured her hand in his. “I think we’ll ease up on the painkillers next time, okay?”

  She nodded, which made her feel even woozier, and closed her eyes. She was almost gone. Finn got to his feet, pulling her up against the unyielding pillar of his body, and even though she desperately wanted to sleep, she could have stood there forever, supported against him, clinging to the hard ridge of his biceps, soaking up his heat. She heard the soft whirr of a servo as he opened out the two seats at the rear of the cockpit to form a bunk.

  Next thing she knew, she was horizontal, and it must have been some time later because she was cozy under a blanket yet didn’t remember how it got there, and Finn was back at the console, turned away from her. He had opened the shutters over the large viewscreen. Cascading torrents of glowing strings twisted and curled out of the void to envelop their small ship.

  Nodespace. It was beautiful. Serene in its monotony, and terrifying.

  There was no sense they were hurtling forward, and maybe in nodespace there was no such thing. More like tumbling out of control within an endless mesh of gnarled fingers of light. It reminded her of Captain Rackham’s grotesque artwork—reaching out to grab her, stroke her, catch and release her only to let her tumble down again.

  She closed her eyes to the view, closed all her senses, and let the comforting arms of sleep drag her back under.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sirens. Lukas pitches forward through the hatch, clutching his chest. A faceless man kicks him aside.

  She takes a faltering step toward Lukas, but the man points his spur at her head.

  Eco-rads. On the ship. But rads have principles, don’t they? They only kill the cypherteck, the heart of the mission. They’re not supposed to kill Lukas.

  “Don’t be an idiot
,” Lukas says through a mouthful of blood. “She’s not the one you want. Look at her! She’s too young. She’s just an op-teck.”

  The rad stiffens, his spur blinking impatiently on his arm. So it’s true—they don’t kill indiscriminately.

  Bethany rushes in, crying out for Lukas, and the rad spins around, recognizes his target, and fires. Bethany collapses silently to the floor as Lukas screams. He tries to drag himself up. Bethany lies in a crumpled heap.