Nabvan

by Celeste Raye

  “Remove their chips and use the fluid. So do that.”

  Talon hesitated. He glanced around the empty chamber in which he stood. His voice dropped even lower. “Aside from running the risk of having them run away, there’s a larger risk.”

  Now he was far past uneasy. “Oh?”

  Talon said, “Whoever she is, she was sent for a reason. There’s a circuit notation in the file.”

  Renall recoiled. His antenna went up. “You’re saying she’s transmitting information back to whoever sent her.”

  Talon said, “Yes, and it may be too late to halt it. Or whoever is pulling her strings.”

  Talon signed off. Renall stood stock still, his feet rooted to the spot.

  Twelve women. Five were dead. Some had died in the stripping. One had gone from the fast gas. That left them with seven women, any of which could be the cycle spy.

  A cycle spy!

  His stomach rolled.

  It was forbidden.

  The wiping of memory was one thing, but implanting fresh ones was tricky and dangerous. The circuits placed into a cycle spy’s brain were placed so that everything the cycle spy saw or heard went into storage that was then transmitted via the circuit to an interface. And those circuits could be very long range. Galaxy wide, in fact.

  The part of him that recoiled the hardest was the one who knew that no brain could continue that sort of thing before breaking down. Eventually, usually in a matter of months, the cycle spy would simply wear out. The organic matter in their brain would collapse and liquefy. They’d die abruptly and without warning but all the while inflicting damage on whoever they had been sent to spy upon.

  Who could it be?

  Not Clara.

  Her mother had been right where Clara had said she would be. Her father and brother too. She had skills no mind wipe or memory install could have given her. The muscle between her thumb and forefinger was spring tight, something that dealers only had happen after decades of play.

  So not her. The others? He considered that. His heart dropped as he realized that everything could be compromised now. His legal activities notwithstanding, the woman who was a cycle spy would have seen his face, which meant whoever had sent her must have seen it too. And the faces of his brothers.

  Now might be the best time to pull stakes and head out.

  Not that he could, and staying where he was just then was not such a huge risk. It was possible that the cycle spy was dead. Perhaps she had even been the woman with low rot. He calmed himself by thinking through all the possibilities in as rational a way as possible.

  But the only real thought that kept coming back was that he had to make sure that it was not Clara. But if he had her chip removed so soon, she would want to know why. Cycle spies had no idea what they were, but if she felt threatened, the person watching might execute a kill order into her brain.

  But it was not Clara. Could not be.

  Could it?

  Chapter 7:

  Clara smiled as Lois came into her chamber, proudly bearing a costume on her outstretched arms. Lois said, “Mother made this special for you. She said it seems a shame you have to wear such plain clothes while everyone else gets such pretty stuff, and besides, she had a lot of fabric scraps left over, and they would just go to waste if she didn’t do something with them.”

  Clara took a look at the shimmering, multi-hued dress hanging from Lois thin arms. Lois was so sweet and simple. And so obviously pleased by the gift. She took the dress, saying, “Oh, how pretty.”

  She held it up. It was pretty but it had been made to cling and shape and hold. Lois clapped her hands. “You like it?”

  “I do.” She did. “I’ll wear it to the tables tomorrow.”

  Lois said, “I’ll tell Mother.” She paused. Her eyes blinked a few times. Then she sighed. “Mother says we owe you a debt.”

  “No, you don’t. Not really.” Clara smiled at the plain young woman and draped the dress over the chair.

  Lois asked, “Is it a hunger debt?”

  “No. It’s not a debt. You just have to work for Renall for a little while, just like you worked back home. That’s all.”

  Lois’ teeth gnawed at her lips. “Will we get to go home?”

  No. You can never go home again. Clara knew that Dana and her other daughter were all too aware of that fact. They were likely shielding Lois from the truth though. “Sure you will.”

  Lois ducked her head. “I like it here better.”

  Clara tilted her head to one side. “You do?”

  “It’s so bright and pretty. I never saw so many colors. Mother never did either. She’s happy in the sewing room now. She gets to make things that are pretty.”

  The government had long since forbidden bright colors and anything but the regulation one-piece suits they all wore back home; even the people of Old Toronto were not immune from that edict. To do otherwise would be to call attention to themselves, and for people in her profession back there, that was the last thing that was wanted or needed.

  The dress drew her eyes again. A smile came upon her lips and her spirits lifted. Since she had been on Orbitary, she had worn plain brown or olive suits, one-piece and familiar in feel. Maybe that was part of the problem.

  I can’t go back, she thought, I might as well go forward.

  Lois added, “I like the people here too. They don’t say I should go to the sleep facility. No matter how hard I worked before, people always said I would work harder if I was not simple and…” She blinked a few more times. Her shoulders dropped. She rubbed a finger across the palm of one of her hands, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I like it here.”

  Touched by that, Clara said, “I don’t think you have to go if you don’t want to.”

  Lois’ lips turned downward. “Mother says she likes the colors here, but she misses Father. I don’t know why. He was never kind to her or us. And he sold us for a debt. A hunger debt.”

  Empathy ate at Clara. She took a deep breath. “I know. It isn’t fair.”

  Lois burst out. “We didn’t eat it! The foods he got us into hunger debt for. He said him and my brothers needed it more because they work the fields and the generators. But we were hungry too. I’m not hungry at all anymore, and I don’t want to be somewhere that I might get sold again because someone else does.”

  Clara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Lois might have been simple, but that clearly did not stop her from feeling the brunt of the unfair burdens that women back home felt and carried.

  Lois said. “I have to go. I get to order dinner tonight. Mother said it was my turn.”

  Lois turned toward the door and stopped. Tears glistened in her eyes. She blurted out, “I like to order dinner, and not wait for Father and the others to finish before I get to have dinner.”

  Then she fled.

  A lump filled Clara’s throat. She looked down at the dress and then shook her head. She was tired, and her bed was practically begging her to get into it. She stripped quickly and headed into the narrow cubicle that was the ionizer. A wave of heated and scented air blew over her. Little scrubbers met her skin. A slim trickle of water appeared over her head. It landed in fine droplets on her body, then the cloths, soft and gentle, came in.

  She stepped out of the ionizer, her skin glowing and slightly sore. Back home she would wash in whatever water she could find. Here, every resource was jealously guarded so as to ensure there would be plenty for centuries to come. In a way, she admired that, but in another way, Orbitary felt just as much of a trap as home.

  Clara was still thinking those thoughts as she stepped down the stairs the next noon. She paused at the carved doors that would lead her into the hall, nerves getting the better of her.

  The dress cupped her body like a well-made glove, shimmering and sparkling. Her breasts were pushed up and out and her already small waist looked smaller still. The long curve of her legs and the slenderness of her arms, bared by the lack of sleeves, were all on display. She’d bru
shed her hair until it snapped and sparked, and then she’d applied just a dab of the scented air that came from the dispenser on the wall in increments designed to give off just a hint of aroma.

  She swallowed hard. The shape of the dress and even her own body felt unfamiliar and far too daring. Maybe she should just go change into something else.

  “Are you a visitor?’

  She turned at Renall’s voice. His eyes went wide, and then up and down her body. A jolt shot through her. He looked away quickly. He said, “I am so sorry. I did not recognize you at first.”

  “Dana made it for me. From the scraps. They would have been thrown away otherwise, and she felt that would be wasteful.”

  The words tumbled out of her lips so fast she was not even sure that they had made any sense at all.

  Renall looked up again. His eyes were veiled and his expression impassive. “Orbitary committee members will be pleased she was so thoughtful with resources.”

  “I suppose.” Her bare shoulder lifted a bit as a trickle of air from a vent blew across it. She had never felt so naked before, not even when she had been naked. Her eyes dropped. She said, “I have to get to the tables.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She reached for the door and went inside. Renall entered after her. She felt the heat radiating off his body, pushing against her back and her breath sucked in. Her lower body trembled. That damn desire she felt for him, why was it so strong? So unavoidable?

  Renall quickly stepped to one side. He strode away from her, heading for the offices he kept above the gaming and dance floors. Clara moved toward her table, suddenly conscious of the way that her body moved and the gazes of so many male creatures. And a few female ones, too, she noticed with a little grin.

  She took her table. The chairs filled fast. The cards shuffled in her hands. A sense of power hit, and it was heady. What was more, she realized something else too.

  Renall had hurried away from her because he wanted her.

  The cards spread out in a fan, made a bridge, and then a semi-circle. Someone decided that game, and she dealt, but her eyes weren’t on the table. They were pointed up toward the office where she knew Renall stood watching her.

  Renall blew out an audible breath. He’d been so turned on three seconds before, he’d been sure he was showing the entire gaming hall his desire. It had taken a lot of will to rein it in, and he had done that, but even now it was there, lurking just below the surface.

  Or on the surface, he thought wryly as he looked down at his crotch. Tension settled in as his erection finally wilted away. His feet took him to the windows, and he looked down at the floor. His eyes went to Clara.

  His lustful thoughts rose up again, but they were tempered with other thoughts now. The human had courage like he had never seen. Not just in the face of danger either. The way she played at the tables was as equally fearless. She faced down the other players with the same steely determination she had faced him and the crew down the day they had stripped the ship.

  Restless now, he made for the door but his interface buzzed, and he paused as he saw with some chagrin that the incoming telecall was routed from his future bride.

  Renall forced a pleasant smile and answered. Laria’s face swam into focus. Her species, like his, was human-like in appearance, with a few notable exceptions. Laria’s head was a long smooth expanse, and her skin a pearly and sheer thing. Her eyes were wide and too large for the delicate bones of her face. Her cheekbones high. She was nice to look at, and he had always been pleased with her appearance, but now he found himself comparing her features to Clara’s, and that bothered him a great deal as Laria greeted him and he greeted her in return.

  Laria asked, “When do you return here for your next visit?”

  “In a week.” His thoughts drifted back to the floor. “How are things?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” Laria paused and then added, “The temple is coming along nicely, and my father asked me to extend to you his gratitude for the donation that made building it possible.”

  Donation, hell. He was funneling a lot of credits into Laria’s planet. While her planet was big on purity, they were also big on skilled warfare, and they turned out some of the finest fighters in the galaxy. They would be necessary to him when he gained his planet. “That’s good to hear, and he is most welcome.”

  Laria said, “In fact, that is why I am calling you. It seems the credits have run out and there is still work to do.”

  Dammit. Every ‘donation’ set him back. Every setback meant he had more work to do to gain his own coffers. That was the price of peace, and he well knew it, but at that moment, it grated on his nerves. He kept his voice bland. “Oh?”

  Laria nodded. Her lambent eyes glistened slightly as she leaned closer to the screen. “Father will be calling this evening, promptly at nine your time, to discuss future plans for the temple.”

  In other words, to give him a bill and a demand. Renall’s body wanted to tense up, but he didn’t allow it to. Laria’s people were not psychic, but they were good at reading situations, and he knew any tension that he revealed now would be taken as a sign of unwillingness to donate any more credits to the temple. The temple that was part and parcel of the deal he had brokered with her father, who had grossly underestimated—and probably deliberately—the cost of the damned temple. “I will be awaiting his call.”

  Laria leaned back. She seemed satisfied with that answer. Renall tried to think of a single thing to say to her beyond that and found he had nothing. He knew very little about her life. Laria was a priestess at a small temple and would remain in that position until they wed. She seemed to have no conversation beyond what happened within the temple walls, and much of what happened within those walls was kept very secret, so their discussions around those things was also limited.

  His heart sank. How was he supposed to have a life with her?

  Laria spoke again. “I have duties to attend to, so I fear I must go. I look forward to your visit.”

  “As do I.” He clicked the interface off. His legs carried him to the door and then out onto the floor. The day had just begun, but the hall was in full swing. Several ships had arrived, disgorging everything from space cowboys to troop members from various cargo ships. Galley ship crew stood about, gawking at the Gurley’s and the tables. The ones who had never been out of their own systems before and who had clearly never seen anything like what they were seeing now stuck out like sore thumbs.

  Renall made eye contact with one of his security officers who nodded at him and cut his eyes at the rubes.

  The rubes were the ones to watch, for the most part. They drank too much and got too happy with their credits at the tables and other games. They occasionally wanted more from a Gurley than what they had paid for and then tried to get rough with them. They often fought each other, either on the floor or in the chambers above where they’d taken sleeping rates and rights.

  Renall strolled past the tables. All of his dealers were indentured, but all of them got a small cut of their daily profits. He was nothing if not fair. He knew that when indentureship ended, far too many former indentureds ended up with nothing but a small bag of clothes and a thank you and see you later. It was cheaper to take on more indentureds than it was to keep skilled workers in most of the galaxy, and so that system continued unabated. He wanted his to have a chance at starting a life outside of that. A few of his former indentureds were still there, and he had the logic to realize that they needed to have more than one skill. Several former dealers were now security. Several former security indentureds now ran the upper rooms, making sure that the chambers were kept clean and fresh and the furnishings unbroken. It was a good setup, and he enjoyed it, even if he did not care for Orbitary itself.

  The planet was too restrictive and controlling for his liking, not to mention expensive.

  Clara’s table was packed. Renall stood some distance behind the table, watching closely. She dealt fair. That was the first thing that drew
the crowd in. She was a challenge, which also drew a crowd. She had been there for a matter of weeks and already had a reputation as being an incredible player. The few who beat her were happy to brag that they had won a hand against the steeliest carder in the system.

  His lips twitched as he considered that. It was a high compliment and that she had earned it so easily and quickly was a huge testament to her skill level.

  His eyes went to her bare shoulders gleaming around the colorful dress she wore. He had to blank his mind or risk being spotted with a telltale bulge in his suit.

  A shout at the other end of the hall caught his attention. Sure enough, two rubes were fighting. Security quickly moved in and stopped it. Renall’s attention went back to Clara.

  His eyes landed on the face of the Borgite who had been at her table the night before when she had won that large pot. Borgites were the most rational of all creatures, and he wondered why the creature even played the game. Logic stated it was not the best game to win. Maybe that was the reason why. The Borgites played for the sheer pleasure of it and only after assessing all the odds.

  Clara lost a hand to the Borgite a few minutes later. She did it with a genuine smile of pleasure too. In fact, her eyes glowed as she cried out, “You caught me!” and slid over the credits.

  The Borgite stood, and then it doffed its hat and bowed its head. Renall’s mouth fell open. Borgites rarely, if ever, showed respect for anyone or anything. That this one had spoke volumes.

  He drew closer. The other players drifted off to seek fresh amusements while Clara and the Borgite settled out the credits. As Renall reached the table, the Borgite took a hundred credit chip from the vast pile.

  The Borgite spoke. “This is for the pleasure of the game.” He set it on the table. Clara smiled up at the creature. “Thank you very much. I appreciate that.”

  The Borgite tucked away the credits and strolled off. Renall drew the walls and spoke. “Very good game.”