Stars Uncharted

by S. K. Dunstall

  Snow had explained salvage law to Nika. No one left alive to claim ownership of the ship. But Josune hadn’t been on the Hassim, she’d been on The Road. She was dead if Benedict discovered who she was.

  His gaze turned back to Nika. “Who, on this ship, has the information Captain Feyodor needed to find Goberling’s lode? I want that information. I will get it.”

  “She wasn’t there,” Pol said. “She’s new.”

  “So why don’t you tell me who I do want, Pol?”

  Pol raised her chin. Nika could almost read her thoughts. Would lying benefit her?

  “I don’t want a guess, Pol,” Benedict said.

  Pol lowered her eyes.

  Nika looked at The Road’s crew. Jacques angry. Josune tense. Carlos and Roystan unconscious. Snow, sitting by Roystan, worried.

  If they told Benedict it was Roystan, would Benedict get him into a machine to save him?

  It was the only thing that might.

  “If you want to talk to him so desperately,” Nika said, “maybe you should get Roystan to a machine. He’ll die if you don’t, and you won’t get any answers at all.”

  “No.” Josune struggled to stand up. “I’m the one you want. Not Roystan. You don’t need him.” Nika saw the struggle in her face. To protect Roystan, or to have him healed.

  Pol looked at Josune contemptuously. “You’d know, of course.”

  Jacques rammed his shoulder against the bars again. The whole wall shuddered.

  “Enough. Maybe she does know, Pol.” Benedict pointed at Josune. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Me?”

  “The flaking skin.”

  “Burns.”

  “Botched mod,” muttered Snow.

  Benedict turned to him. “Snowshoe Bertram, is it?”

  Snow sighed. “It’s Bertram Snowshoe, actually.”

  They’d used Snow to buy the Dekker, and his name was around the wrong way on his modding certificate. Benedict must have gotten that particular snippet from the Hub.

  “That isn’t what it says on your ID.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it says on the ID,” Nika said. “What matters is what he’s telling you.” Benedict would listen to the person he knew as the modder, and get Roystan into a machine. “Tell him, Snow.”

  Benedict looked Snow up and down. A long, leisurely look. “According to your records, you’re a new graduate. If it took that long for you to graduate, maybe we shouldn’t be trusting your knowledge.”

  They didn’t have time for this.

  “I’m a body modder,” Snow said, with as much asperity as Nika herself would have used. “Haven’t you heard of people changing their appearance to look older or younger?”

  “Most of them do it to look younger,” Benedict said, but this time he looked Snow over thoughtfully. “Well, body modder, what can you do to bring Roystan around? I need to talk to him.”

  “I can’t,” Snow said.

  “Mr. Bertram, come here. Over to the bars.”

  Snow didn’t move.

  Benedict brought out his blaster and turned it on Nika. “Come to the bars or I’ll shoot your friend.”

  Snow stood up, hands above his head. He moved slowly to the bars.

  “That’s better,” Benedict said. He pressed the blaster into Snow’s neck. “Now, I ask you again—and think carefully about your answer. What can you do to bring Roystan around?”

  A bead of sweat dripped down Snow’s face and dropped onto the blaster. Nika clasped her fist tightly around the laser pendant. She so badly wanted to turn it on Benedict, but if she did, people would die. Her people.

  “Put him into a machine.”

  Benedict moved the blaster closer. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can do? He doesn’t have to live long. Just enough for us to talk.”

  Something in Snow seemed to snap. They all saw his posture change. He reached up and pushed the blaster away. “Are you questioning my knowledge?”

  Nika pulled her pendant free. She wouldn’t be able to save him in time.

  Benedict didn’t fire.

  “I am a body modder.” Snow pointed to his chest. “I am a good modder. I know what I’m telling you.” He pointed to Roystan. Nika couldn’t tell if his finger was shaking from rage, or if he was just shaking. “That man will die if you don’t put him into a machine.”

  Benedict indicated Josune. “Not your work, then?”

  “No.” Snow turned his back on Benedict and walked back to Roystan.

  Pol had a blaster. She raised it.

  “Snow.” Nika pulled him down fast and rolled on top of him.

  The laser dropped from her hand.

  Benedict turned, so fast he was a blur. Pol’s blaster skittered across the floor. Pol gasped and clutched at her wrist.

  “Don’t ever presume you can fire on my prisoners,” Benedict said.

  32

  JOSUNE ARRIOLA

  Roystan was dying.

  Josune picked up the laser Nika had dropped while Benedict was facing Pol. Her fingers were numb. She didn’t want to think. She slipped the pendant around her neck and dropped it under her coveralls. It was hell on the burned side of her neck, but better than on the floor where Benedict would see it. The nerveseal was wearing off. Her ribs hurt, reminding her that she couldn’t do much.

  They would pay for what they had done to Roystan. They would pay for the Hassim. She had a name. And a face. Benedict was a walking dead man.

  As for Pol, it couldn’t happen to a more deserving person.

  Snow shook, so badly his teeth chattered. Nika shook too, but she remained between Pol and Snow.

  “Well, you certainly behave like a modder,” Benedict said, as if the interlude with Pol hadn’t happened.

  Snow sat up. He was still shivering. “Get him into a machine. Otherwise he’ll die on you.”

  Benedict nodded at Pol and returned to his chair. Pol took over the questioning. Her voice wavered slightly.

  “What happened to that mad engineer, Josune?”

  “Got in the way of a blaster,” Jacques said. “As will you when I get out of here.” He rattled the bars again.

  “Dead?”

  Jacques, bless him, didn’t look her way. “You should be so lucky. No. She’ll be coming for you. You won’t even see her coming.”

  That was for certain.

  Josune missed what Pol said next, for Benedict’s right eyelid glowed and she turned her attention to him.

  There was a pause before he blinked it off. A message.

  He looked speculatively at Josune, Nika, and Snow before interrupting Pol midsentence. “We’ll continue this conversation later. Let’s get Roystan repaired and see what answers he has for us.” He turned to one of the guards. “Book a slot. You know which hospital.”

  “If you want to live,” he told Snow, “keep him alive until then. As for the rest of you, I’ll give you time to think about what you do know, and how best you can help your captain. Pol, it’s time you and I had another chat.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Benedict came back with the station doctor, who brought a stretcher. She didn’t bat an eyelid at the burns. Or at the bars, although she did look at the injuries of those assembled behind. She frowned at Josune. “What’s wrong with that one? Is she contagious?”

  “Botched mod, they say. I’m sure you can confirm that.”

  The doctor clucked sympathetically. “Can’t have that, can we.” She turned back to Benedict. “What are you doing with them when you are finished?”

  “You mean the ones I don’t kill?”

  “Yes. They look young and strong and healthy. A cattle ship would take them.”

  “We are not going onto cattle ships,” Snow said.

  “You’ll get double
for them if they go in whole.” She beckoned to Jacques and Snow, and pointed to Roystan. “Lift him onto the stretcher for me.”

  “Not if you’re going to sell him off to a cattle ship.”

  “Snow,” Nika said. “He’ll die if we don’t get him into a machine.”

  “It’s better if he does. At least it will be fast.”

  Was it better if he died? No. While there was life, there was hope, and Roystan hadn’t come this far fighting to give up now.

  “He has no hope if he’s dead.”

  Josune pushed past him, tried to lift Roystan’s legs, and hissed as her ribs objected. “Just get him on the stretcher.”

  “You don’t—” But Snow helped lift Roystan onto the stretcher.

  “I’ll do a deal,” the doctor said to Benedict. “I’ll fix them all and we’ll split the sales fifty-fifty.”

  Once Roystan came out of the machine, Josune would enjoy fighting it out with this doctor.

  “And do something about that one.” She pointed to Carlos. “He’s worth nothing if he’s dead. I’ll send someone back for him shortly.”

  “Your expense?”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Benedict smiled. “You have a deal.”

  The doctor brought up a form. She thumbprinted and irised it, and nodded to Benedict to do the same. “One for each of them. Make sure they sign it. Without it, it’s not legal.”

  “It’ll be legal.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” The doctor wheeled Roystan out. Benedict followed.

  * * *

  • • •

  Josune stretched carefully. Her body was seizing up from her injuries. If they didn’t escape soon she might not be able to fight.

  If Roystan didn’t survive, what was there to fight for anyway?

  She’d made him a promise. If Carlos stayed alive long enough for her to keep it. He was collected shortly after. Nika looked relieved to see him go. Josune thought the modder might have agreed with the doctor’s assessment of Carlos’s chances of survival.

  Half an hour later Pol returned.

  “Hey. You.” Pol looked directly at Josune, keeping far enough away from the bars to avoid the arm Jacques thrust through. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

  “Why?” Did Pol know who she was? Had she given herself away?

  Jacques fisted his hand and swung. Pol jumped back, though he was nowhere close. “Where’s Guardian? Hiding? Too afraid to come out and face us?”

  “Guardian.” She spat the name out. “Couldn’t even finish the job properly.”

  “Wasn’t much of a job he had to finish.”

  They’d been friends, Jacques and Guardian. Guardian had been the only one, outside of Roystan, who could sweet-talk Jacques into cooking treats he liked. Jacques must have been hurting about the defection ever since, but Josune had never thought about it.

  Roystan would have known. He knew his crew.

  “He tried to sneak back to The Road.”

  “I’d have killed him if he’d turned up. I still will, when I find him.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “You killed him. What did he ever do to you?”

  It wasn’t a smiling matter, but Josune couldn’t help herself. Jacques might have been angered by Guardian’s betrayal, but he wasn’t happy about him being killed. Friendships were funny things.

  “I didn’t kill him. Qiang did.”

  Josune didn’t believe her.

  “Why? Fewer people to share with?”

  “He got upset about us taking the money.”

  Josune spared some pity for Guardian, who had taken the time to be nice to a newbie, and who, at the end, had been decent enough to care that he’d left his former crewmates destitute.

  “It was ours as much as yours. Besides, Roystan still had his precious run, while we needed to finance our expedition.”

  “How sad for you.” Josune didn’t mean a word of it.

  “Because of him sneaking off, Benedict separated us. Doesn’t trust us. Guardian got what he deserved.”

  So had Pol.

  “Then you come along and blew up the ship Qiang was on, along with the memory. So here we are.”

  Josune didn’t point out that they hadn’t “come” anywhere.

  Jacques turned away, disgusted. “And you need Roystan for what? The memory’s gone.”

  Pol’s eyes glittered. “It’s not about the memory. Benedict was following the Hassim. Captain Feyodor discovered something on Pisces III that led to Roystan, or to something on The Road.”

  She lowered her voice and looked directly at Josune. “That’s why I need your help. Benedict will kill me once he gets what he wants. I’m no use to him. But together, we can find out what it was. We can all be rich.”

  Pol certainly didn’t lack front, trying to strike a deal in front of people she’d recently robbed.

  “Why would I deal? We already have Roystan on our side. What could you give us that he can’t?”

  “You won’t have him after Benedict has finished with him.” Pol leaned closer. “We help each other. You look like you can fight. I have information you don’t. We can share.”

  “What information?” Josune glanced back at Jacques. What was he thinking? That she’d sell them out? Nika, at least, would trust her. But Jacques?

  Jacques gave a half nod. Almost imperceptible, but it said volumes. She took a deep breath. Roystan’s crew had been a team, more than any crew she had known. She’d do anything she could for them.

  Even lie to Pol.

  Pol’s voice dropped lower. Josune had to put her ear to the bars to hear her. Jacques moved closer to hear, too.

  “Josune Arriola came from the Hassim. She’d been questioning Roystan behind our backs.”

  Did she really not know who Josune was?

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Last deal you made, Pol, ended up with us broke and on the run,” Jacques said.

  Pol ignored him. “Work with me. I can help you escape.” She gripped the bars. “Help me find Josune. Once we have her we can follow Feyodor’s trail and work it out ourselves.”

  Nika’s laser was hard against Josune’s chest, the sparker in her hair. She took a deep breath and forced herself not to reach for either. Forced herself to continue listening.

  “They think I know nothing. But they—” Pol stopped as Benedict entered with two guards.

  “That one.” Benedict pointed to Snow. Pol might as well not have existed.

  One of the guards moved over to the locked door. Beckoned.

  Pol slipped out of the room.

  Snow looked at Benedict.

  “Yes. You. The body modder.” Benedict smiled, and the smile held a touch of grimness to it. “Your captain isn’t responding well to the tank.”

  “Snow,” Nika said, urgently. “His DNA.” She turned to Benedict. “I need to come.”

  “I only want the body modder.” Benedict turned away.

  Snow hesitated. “I know how to heal people, Nika. Better than you.”

  “This is not basic medicine, Snow.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Nika looked as if she wanted to shake him. “Call me as soon as you know you’re in too deep.”

  Benedict must have heard them, but he appeared not to notice.

  “I know what I’m doing, Nika. I’ve spent years healing people. I don’t need your help.” The guard unlocked the door.

  Snow followed Benedict out into the passage. He didn’t look back.

  * * *

  • • •

  Carlos returned a few hours later, his body covered in pink repair work but otherwise healthy.

  Nika spent the night pacing.

  Josune wa
nted to tell her to settle. When the time came to fight, they didn’t need people who’d already expended their strength.

  “Snow hasn’t come back,” Josune pointed out. “Neither has Benedict.” He couldn’t have missed Pol’s little talk, even if he’d ignored it. “Maybe Snow is actually fixing Roystan.”

  Nika snorted and continued her pacing.

  Josune considered her options. She had her sparker and Nika’s laser. Benedict had multiple ships, lots of weapons, and crew enough to use them. They’d already proven in a head-to-head fight that Eaglehawk would win. They needed to run. But first, they had to escape. The longer they sat here in this little cell, the harder it would be to do so, because Benedict wasn’t feeding them. Did he intend to starve them into submission?

  “They could at least give us something to drink,” Carlos grumbled.

  Which only made Josune thirsty.

  They wouldn’t leave without Roystan. They had to wait for him to come out of the machine. But the rest of them grew weaker while they waited.

  They couldn’t afford to wait.

  Pol hadn’t returned. Because Benedict forbade it? Or because she wasn’t alive any longer?

  The door opened. It was the doctor, with a suited company representative.

  “I’ll take the youngest one first,” she said, indicating Josune. “The younger they are, the better value. Get her print.”

  This company representative looked as young as Josune did. He wore an obsidian pin on his lapel. Shiny and new, and from the way he admired it as he passed his reflection, he hadn’t had it long.

  He grinned. “Come on out now. Aren’t you the lucky one. Your burns are about to be healed.”

  “Just as soon as you sign the form,” the doctor said. “I’m not wasting good mutrient if I don’t get any value out of it.”

  If she only had to sign, good. If she had to use iris or thumbprint, they’d discover her identity. They were running out of time. She forced herself to breathe naturally. She was carrying two weapons, but if she used them now she’d get them all killed.

  “What am I signing?” she asked, as she allowed herself to be pushed along.