“We’ll go with you!” George said happily. “We know all about Outside now.”
Moire was sure the stunned expression on Ennis’s face mirrored her own. “Uh. Um, maybe you should get some more practice first?”
This unleashed a storm of protest from the Created, who indicated they had practiced more than enough. Moire ducked out of their cabin with mumbled excuses, heading in the direction of the bridge. Ennis was soon walking beside her. She was glad, as she was any time she could be with him without an audience. Then she saw his shoulders shaking and his eyes bright with amusement, and she narrowed her eyes.
“You’ve created a monster,” she commented.
“You were the one who said keep them out of trouble.”
She stopped and glared at him, hands on her hips. “Did that sound like staying out of trouble to you? Now they want to go and find it!”
Ennis held up his hands. “I know. Look, it might not be such a bad idea. They have to try it sometime. If you can dock in the safer area they can probably handle a quick trip.”
Moire closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. “It’s not a good time.”
Gentle fingertips stroked her face. “It’s never a good time,” Ennis said quietly. “This is their world. War without and enemies within.” Something in his voice made her snap her eyes open. “I was only a few years older than they were when…Penderhest took me everywhere, even the worst places, because I had to know. If anything happened to him…I had to know how to survive.”
He looked so bleak, his eyes full of memories. Moire held his face against hers, trying to warm away the remembered cold and fear. “You survived,” she whispered. “It’s OK, you got out….”
The itchy–bone feeling of the dropout washed through her. She had to dock, she had to plan, and why did this always happen just when they were getting comfortable? She stood back, and Ennis reluctantly let go. “Let’s see what Yolanda says.”
Yolanda thought it was a good idea. Moire got the impression she included Moire in the category of people needing practice, and the truth of it irritated her. It was also true they could contact the ship agent by comm when docked, and all the items Gren had asked them to get were routine, nonspecialized components they could simply have shipped to their holds. If Harrington’s message showed up, they would have to get a passkey to the lower levels, but for everything else they could dock on Three. Moire just nodded without looking at them when they asked her.
Ennis left the bridge to get the Created. Slumped in the observation chair, Moire watched him leave, reflected in a display screen. When he walked by Yolanda he handed her something with a slight twitch of his hand, which she promptly pocketed in a smooth gesture while glancing Moire’s direction. So it wasn’t just the kids having some kind of secret plan. At least it wasn’t something she had to worry about, if Yolanda and Alan and the rest of them were part of it. She hoped.
When she could forget how young the Created were, she had to admit they looked professional. Their bulk–bought clothing gave a uniformlike impression, and with the ship patches the effect was complete. As they went through the common areas of Kulvar's third level she watched them as carefully as she could without being obvious about it, and she knew Ennis and Menehune were doing the same. It was an effort for the kids not to stare at all the new things, but they did a good job. Maybe Ennis and Menehune had been right, after all.
She had Alan buy the circulars. Ennis scanned them as they walked on. The tiny crease at the corner of his eye deepened, then disappeared when he tucked the textsheets in his pocket. He glanced at Moire and shook his head, and she felt a surge of guilty relief. No word from Harrington. Not yet.
“Think you can handle things from here?” Yolanda stopped at the entrance to their dock row. “Got some errands to run, since it’s quiet.”
Moire glanced down the row. It looked safe and empty. “You have your commlink, right? Do you need to go far?”
“Nah, this ain’t heavy load, don’t have to go down.” Yolanda patted her pockets, then pulled out the commlink and showed it to her. “Won’t be long.”
“OK, just be careful.” Moire tried not to wonder about Menehune’s errands. They depended heavily on her criminal information, and it was only fair they let her profit from it. Even if Moire wished she wouldn’t.
She caught a flash of movement from the Created, and once again had the feeling she had just missed some silent communication. They seemed happy and excited, but maybe that was just the result of getting to go outside. Moire pulled out her own commlink.
“Hey, Raven.”
“Yes, Captain?” Kilberton answered.
“Tell Pico to watch for us, OK? We’re almost there.”
A pause, then, “He is ready. He says no one has come by the hatch since you left.”
“Good.” Moire glanced along the row, observing the hatches on both sides. They weren’t the only ship docked here; at least three other hatch lights were green. Shouldn’t there have been other people around, or had Pico not been paying attention?
Raven’s hatch opened and Pico’s round, cheerful face peeked out. “Saw ya! So where’d Menehune get to?”
The first sound Moire heard was another hatch opening. She glanced over and saw movement on the other side of the row, toward the end. She looked away and heard a shot, followed by others that whined past them or flashed on the decking. Pico made a sound between a scream and a groan and slumped against the open door.
She had a gun. She had to use it, or they would die. People were pouring out of the end hatch now, all armed. She fired wildly, hoping to at least ruin their aim.
One of the attackers shouted, “Get the door!”
They were after the ship. Pico was holding the hatch door open, too badly injured to get inside, and they couldn’t get to him. Pico must have heard with his last few seconds of consciousness, for he scrabbled with bloody hands until he had moved away enough for the automatic closure to take over.
Moire continued firing while they retreated until the door had shut. Alan was yelling hoarsely for her to run away, and she did. Out of the row, then where? Too much open space…
Beside her, Ash cried out and stumbled. Moire caught her arm and nearly stumbled herself when she was pulled off balance, but then Ennis was on the other side and they were all dashing for a narrow, dead–end hallway with doorways just indented enough to provide minimal cover.
The shooting had died away, and she felt a sudden spurt of fear. They were at the hatch, she just knew it. “Kilberton,” she gasped into the comm. “Kilberton, are you there?”
“Captain! What is—”
“Undock the ship. Get to departure range and get a lineup set, got that?”
“I can’t leave you there!”
“Yes you can, and you will if you don’t hear from me in three hours. Leave immediately if anybody comes after you. Remember the folks back home, dammit! Now get the hell away from this station!”
She didn’t want to even hint about Radersent, but she knew he’d figure it out. And they really couldn’t risk both pilots who knew the route to Sequoyah being captured.
“Yes, Captain! Undocking now….”
If she squinted, she could see Raven’s hatch, which did seem to have a number of people around it. She saw the light change from green to red with relief, then turned her attention to the people around her.
Ash was huddled in the corner of a doorway, her face contorted with pain and the effort to remain silent. Moire could see blood darkening the side of her leg. George was beside her. Hideo was sharing Moire’s doorway, and Ennis and Alan were on opposite sides of the entrance.
Ennis glanced back. “We have a problem,” he whispered. Moire rolled her eyes, and he shook his head sharply. “Ammunition.”
Moire checked her magazine. It was empty. Hideo held up two fingers. Ash didn’t even have her gun anymore. George had four left. A pity she hadn’t planned for a
firefight when they left the ship, and brought more ammo. At the time she was thinking of minimizing any damage the Created might do by accident. In addition, they had only handguns—again, for a lower profile. They couldn’t even hit the bad guys unless they were obliging enough to come closer.
Time to yell for help. She should have told Kilberton…told him what? Call the cops? Everybody on Kulvar was bought, one way or the other. She didn’t even know who they’d been attacked by, except she doubted it was Toren this time. She punched in Yolanda’s comm code. The commlink searched, then stopped. She punched it in again, swearing.
“Ship isn’t in the station network,” Ennis said softly. “Kilberton might be able to send to you, but you can’t get another commlink signal now.”
“Terrific.” She thought for a moment. “Assuming we survive and get out of this, how do we tell Kilberton?”
“Station signal. Somebody will have access, if we have money.” Ennis stiffened, backing up just enough to stay out of sight. “They’re coming this way.”
He fired a single shot, then pointed at Alan. Alan took aim, going completely motionless before firing. His shot was followed by a cry from the row.
It seemed like hours. Moire heard their single shots, desperately trying to think of a way out as she cobbled a makeshift bandage for Ash’s leg. The doors in the hallway were locked, and from the looks of things weren’t even worth a bullet to open. She might do that if they had nothing else to try. If they waited long enough, would Yolanda come back, figure out something was wrong, and get help?
“Company,” Ennis said suddenly, leaning back against the wall and wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve.
“Whose side are they on?” Moire asked.
“Not sure. Enemy doesn’t look pleased to see them; they’re moving back.”
Moire darted across the hallway to stand next to him. Their attackers were not visible; still taking cover. The group Ennis was indicating were openly and heavily armed, and looked like they would be quite at home in the lower levels. Now a a third group was arriving, wearing uniforms. Station police. The first group of hardbodies eyed the station police with contemptuous amusement and walked up to them without fear. The two new groups were talking, but Moire couldn’t make out what was being said. The station police left, slowly at first, but then with speed.
She glanced at Ennis’s face, and it told her enough to realize they might be in even more danger now. “What do you think is going on?”
“Territory fight. Look out, they see us. Hold your fire!” This to Alan, who was ready to start shooting again. Moire nodded at him, and he looked at her uncertainly.
A handful of the heavily armed arrivals were now standing about the hallway entrance while the rest rounded up the attackers that were still alive. The goons that had attacked her ship were soon standing in the corridor with their hands in the air, looking desperate.
“You guys wanna tell us stories too?” said one of the toughs in charge, a lanky, youthful–looking man with dark skin and strange bodymods that pulled his skin into ridges and points.
“They attacked us,” Moire said tightly. “No reason.”
“Sure.” He smiled and revealed pointed teeth. “Who needs a reason?”
Maybe she could shoot him and take his weapon. No, the others were too watchful.
“Let’s go visitin’,” the lanky man said, gesturing with his weapon. “Zandovar wants ta talk to ya.”
There wasn’t any choice. They had five rounds left between them. They walked carefully out of the hallway, hands raised.
CHAPTER 16
BLOOD PRICE
The new arrivals hadn’t shot them yet. That was one positive sign, and Ennis tried desperately to think of others. Moire appeared to be unharmed. Hideo had taken a hit, but not a serious one. Ash was a problem.
“Drop the poppers,” the leader said. His crew had their weapons trained on them and their attackers. Ennis slowly lowered his gun hand and tossed the weapon forward. Everybody else did the same, except Alan.
“You too, gito.” Moire twitched a glance at her son, her eyes going wide with fear.
“Do it,” she said shortly.
Alan’s face went hard. “But they—”
“Do it!” Moire yelled. “That’s an order!”
Alan flung the gun away, giving her a hurt and resentful look.
The leader grinned his sharp–toothed grin. At his signal his crew surrounded everybody involved in the fighting.
If he started thinking about what could happen, he’d be paralyzed by fear. He hoped the Created would remember what he and Menehune had drilled them on. This was a shakedown trial that hadn’t been planned, but they were doing well.
Better than they should. Ash and Hideo should have been crying and frantic with pain—they hadn’t had any experience with this kind of thing. A cold wave washed over him as he remembered some things Moire had told him. Perhaps they did have experience. They hadn’t always been with people who tried to protect them.
Ash was stumbling between George and Hideo, who were half–carrying her between them. She looked bad.
“Will you let us do something for her?” Moire asked the leader, who looked Ash over with indifference.
“She’ll last long enough,” he said. Moire started to protest, and he snarled at her.
Last long enough for what? Memories of Fimbul came crowding back painfully. It wouldn’t matter if these people knew the Created were children, either. Ennis looked away, fighting to keep his face from revealing anything. The first rule was never show fear.
The second rule was don’t get involved. As they went through the corridors people they met turned away, vanished, or looked right through them as if nothing was there. Except one: a thin, silver–haired man inside a communications office who stared as they went by.
Ennis closed his eyes briefly, fear and hope and frustrated disappointment rushing through him in quick succession. Harrington. But there hadn’t been any message in the circulars!
“Hold up,” one of the toughs said. They had reached the area with the dropdowns. They couldn’t all fit in the dropdown at the same time, so they went down in two groups.
Moire took advantage of the crosstalk involved in figuring this out to whisper, “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head without saying anything, seeing the eye of the leader on them. The guards at the entrance to the fourth level stood aside as soon as they saw the leader. Inside was much as he expected, except for the occasional patches of black and pockmarks on the walls that told him just how nasty the change of power had been.
Then they were being herded into another bank of dropdowns. Moire lifted an eyebrow at him and he shook his head minutely, feeling even more worried. She had the same intent, focused look he’d seen on the salvage ship when they thought the crabs were invading, and her face was pale—too pale. She was terrified.
Fifth level was like nothing he’d ever seen. Fimbul had been violent, crude, and dangerous, but in a chaotic, survivalist way. This was all the sick, twisted things he’d ever heard of or seen, done because someone could make money from it.
He heard a stifled gasp from Moire when they passed a wall of clear, narrow, vertical boxes, each with a briefly clad man or woman inside. Flashing text scrolled over the surfaces, listing skills and vital statistics. Without needing to speak, they both shifted and nudged the Created between them, keeping them in the center of the group.
At first he thought the moaning was coming from Ash, but it didn’t sound like pain. Then he saw the source, up ahead at the corner of a cross–corridor. A naked man hanging from a suspension harness, his skin painted with something pearlescent, strings of jewel–like decorations tied about his body.
He saw Alan glance up, his mouth trembling. “Don’t look!” Ennis whispered harshly. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, locked on the back of the tough walking ahead of him, but the writhing, contorted limbs were still
on the edge of his vision. He could smell blood as they passed by; the man was going to die soon, die of ecstatic pleasure. It looked like he’d been overdosed with allacome, probably to serve as an advertisement for a sexshow.
When they stopped before a large, dark doorway it was almost a relief. The leader spoke briefly at a wall comm, then went inside. A moment later he came back and gestured for them to follow.
The interior atrium was spotless and covered in dynamic film, even the floors, which gently pulsed and flowed with shaded color. He’d never seen it before, only heard of it. It was supposed to be very expensive. Across from the entry, a delicate porcelain vase stood on a polished wooden table. More money, and access to markets on Earth.
“Jonders. I understand you have found something that requires my attention.” The voice was rich and smooth. Ennis turned his head slightly, saw the leader of the toughs step forward with a very different manner to stand before a man who looked completely out of place.
The ceeyo of Kulvar was tall, slender in an athletic way, and dressed like an Inner Systems business executive in full trousers of dark bronze silk and a long vest over a tight metallic top. The rich brown–and–gold brocade of the vest wasn’t regulation business, nor the large, openly armed bodyguards. He had a finely chiseled brown face outlined by a narrow, carefully trimmed beard, and his dark eyes were looking them over without any evidence of interest.
The head tough cleared his throat. “Cordoba wants to know we doing action on three, says what 'bout this deal, hah? So I go, find these guys tossin’ pops up there. Cordoba showed up too, but I said we gonna fix it and he left. He ain’t happy, though.”
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