Trinity: Atom & Go

by Zach Winderl

  “Give me a touch,” the man said, rubbing crust from his eyes as he scrambled to wake his system. “It takes a minute for these systems to boot. The Adles didn’t seem to care much about staying on top of the tech curve.

  “No wonder we walked in here and snagged the system from them.” He grinned as he smoothed a greasy tuft of hair down into some semblance of order.

  The man’s companion remained glued to her own pad with one leg curled up in her seat, affording her chin a resting spot as her fingers danced over the keys of her entertainment. She yawned and glanced up, catching Atom’s eye. She seemed surprised to find Atom staring at her and dropped her eyes back to her glow.

  “Security seems . . .” Atom hesitated, “lax.”

  The man shrugged. “Well, the station’s on lockdown.” The man frowned at his own screen. “There are roaming squads that keep people in their quarters when they’re not on the clock. Everyone’s on lockdown except cooks and a pair of meds and those porters you passed on your way down.”

  “What’s the usual pop on this spinner?”

  “Runs around 1500, give or take. Most are mech-loaders who make their meal transferring ore from hoppers to long-haul transport ships.”

  “And they’re all just sitting?”

  “Until we can get this rock spitting out ore again.” The man scooted his chair back and rose to grab an info tag issuing from a printer. “Here’s your slip. It looks like you’ll have a few hours before your transport floats out.”

  “Anything to do on this hoop?” asked Mir, pushing herself up from the counter.

  “There are a couple food counters open on the main ring and an entertainment suite we keep running for off-duty personnel.” The clerk shrugged as he handed out the tags.

  Atom nodded thanks and headed for the hatch.

  Trailing behind, Mir seemed more interested in adjusting her armored vest.

  “You solid?” Atom asked, slapping open the hatch as he fixed his partner with a puzzled look.

  “Yeah, I must have put on some weight. This rig is digging in more than it should.”

  “Weight in your chest?”

  “I must have used too much water when I took my shower.” She smirked.

  Atom smiled, understanding creeping into the back of his mind. “That’s why I’ve always worn mine on my hip. I strap it up every morn and it always sits just right.”

  Mir rolled her shoulders and neck. “As soon as I’m out of this gremlin band, I’ll make that switch. Until then, I have to fit in regs.”

  “Someday, if we’re so lucky. In the meantime, you fancy snagging some chow while we wait? Or maybe just a cup of perk?”

  “I could eat.”

  Before they cleared the corridor, a klaxon sounded and the lighting dropped to emergency levels.

  Atom, hand on his pistol, edged up to the far hatch and peered through the window with an eager calm. Seeing only an empty stretch of hallway, he glanced back to Mir and found the security officer stalking towards him with her own gun drawn.

  “Looks like we might need to put that snack on hold.” She slapped open the hatch with unrestrained energy and stepped through to survey the hallway. “Maybe there’s entertainment.”

  With a dark, half grin she trotted towards the elevator banks at the end of the hall.

  ***

  Margo sat on the table. With legs crossed and eyes half open, she could have been a meditating monk. Sturdy bookshelves lined the walls and framed the wide picture window overlooking the garden in the center of the courtyard. Margo studied the light snowfall that left individual flakes dancing across the swirling wind to grace the trees and stone ornaments with a painter’s delicacy.

  As soon as Blatt had closed the door, the girl had abandoned her couch and made a quick tour of the room. She had tried the drawers of the heavy wooden desk and found them locked.

  With the grace and delicacy of a dancing ninja, she climbed to the desktop and inspected everything there. She poked at the controls for the desktop system, but found it dead after the EMP. She tried a few more switches to no avail. Only after fiddling with the desk lamp and trailing her finger over several baubles did her gaze stall on an ornate letter opener.

  Glancing around with the furtiveness of a ferret, she rocked forward, looking to any observing eye as if she stumbled to her feet, but as she rose, the letter opener disappeared into her sleeve.

  Clambering back down to the floor, she pushed the chair into place and made a slow circuit of the study.

  For a few minutes, she stood at the window with one hand pressed to the glass. She leaned her forehead on the window and surveyed the garden. Her eyes drifted between the trees and the pond, the wooden bridge and matching pavilion, the stone benches and ornately carved lanterns.

  She wished to be outside, running in the garden.

  Sighing in frustration, she turned from the window and climbed up to sit on the conference table that balanced out the bulky desk at the far end of the study.

  Margo reflected, thinking about Mae and the trouble a cat might find on her own.

  A slight smile pulled at the girl’s eyes as she imagined Mae sitting next to her on the table, as regal as any tawny lion. Margo imagined the cat. She heard the purr and felt Mae nuzzle her leg in an attempt to steal a scratch behind the ears.

  Sitting in imaginative silence, Margo forgot about time. She defied the norm and sat, as a two-year-old Buddha, spending the afternoon with her feline friend.

  A scratch at the door dragged Margo from the comforts of her imagination. Her eyes drifted open as the door opened a crack under a tentative hand.

  The girl from the street peaked through the crack.

  “Good, you're alone.” She slid the door open a few more inches and slithered through like an otter, shutting the door behind her with noiseless care. “I was afraid you might have a friend or two in here.”

  Margo kept her face calm, but her head swiveled in curiosity.

  The girl danced on tiptoe over to the table. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said, pulling a small bundle from a pouch at her belt. “It’s been more than six hours since they locked you in here. I know I’d hunger.” The girl bobbed her head and unwrapped the pack to reveal a small handful of raisins and some crude-cut blocks of cheese. “I know this en’t much, but I figured you could use it. My name’s Tanny; I’m ten.” The girl pulled one of the chairs out and sat down facing Margo. She pushed the food over as if making an offering. “En’t right, them keeping you bundled like this. I said so to myself. It en’t right that you got left all lonesome-like in your pram on the road, but it’s even worse that someone who en’t yer kin took you up.

  “I don’t know their game,” Tanny pushed a raisin in Margo’s direction. “They just round and body-snatched you. I hope that en’t their usual business, but it seems it don’t really add on a small world like this. Body-snatching don’t work if they ‘em as done the snatching.

  “Sorry,” Tanny said with a room-lifting smile, “I’m rambling. I’m new. My mom just signed me over fer a two-year run with the Markins. I guess I’m already doing my best to not fit.” Tanny glanced at the door and her smile drifted down a notch. “Not that I aim to buck. No sir, I aim to fit, snug as a bug. Do my tour. Then head fer home. Hopefully things will be a touch better when I get back there, seein’ as the kins git my sum added to one less mouth.”

  “Tanny.” Margo picked up a couple raisins and held them out for the girl.

  Tanny’s lip quivered, but the smile remained, as she accepted the offering with a nod. She tucked the raisins into her mouth individually.

  “You remind me of my lil’ sister.” Tanny leaned her elbows and scrutinized Margo as she sucked on the raisins. “I always call her Micro. I don’t miss her yet, but I’m sure it’ll happen sooner ‘posed to later.”

  “Sister?” Margo tilted her head to look at Tanny. With dark, curly hair pulled back into a tail that spilled over one shoulder, the serving girl bore a
passing resemblance to Margo.

  Fear drove the smile from Tanny’s face as the hiss of the sliding door sliced through their conversation. “Sisters?” Markins’ wife slipped into the room, moving in silence on the balls of her feet as she glided towards the girls.

  “No, ma’am.” Tanny lurched from the chair and prostrated herself on the floor.

  Margo maintained her seated posture. She looked up to the woman with an unnatural calm and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Up, girl,” the woman commanded. Tanny rose, but kept her eyes downcast.

  The woman grabbed Tanny’s chin and lifted her face. Studying the curves of Tanny’s cheeks and slight slant of her eyes, the woman shifted her gaze between the two girls. She scowled and pursed her lips in consternation.

  “There is a resemblance, but it isn’t a strong one.” The mistress dropped Tanny’s face and the girl sagged in on herself. “If that isn’t the case, what are you doing in here? Girl, you are new to this household, but that doesn’t excuse you from knowing your place. It brings me no pleasure.” She raised her hand to strike. “But lessons must be taught.”

  Before her hand could descend, Margo sprang into action. She pulled the letter opener from her sleeve, and despite the dull edges, the metal point easily punctured the woman’s hand as she brought it down. The knife did little more than break the skin, but it caused the woman to flinch back from the girls.

  “Go.” Margo jumped from the table and sprinted for the door on her tiny legs.

  Behind her, Tanny hesitated, deliberating between the girl and her family, duty and escape, the now or the future.

  She froze, trapped between the possibilities.

  The woman struck with rage; her bloody backhand sent Tanny sprawling.

  “Blatt, get that urchin,” the woman screeched as she spun back to the door.

  The burly guard stepped in from the hallway just in time for Margo to scamper past his feet. He tried to slip his foot out to catch her, but ended up throwing himself off balance and impeding the woman’s rush to pursue the child.

  Margo raced down the hallway, juking past startled servants and guards who looked on in confusion.

  Without knowing the layout of the house, Margo kept moving, hoping for the front door.

  Footsteps thudded behind her.

  Margo, on her stubby little legs, pumped forward. She rounded a corner on nimble feet and shot down the new hall like an arrow from a longbow. A dozen sliding doors flew by on both sides, all closed.

  “Stop, Mite,” Blatt called out as he slid around the corner, balanced as the polished floor offered him little traction. “There’s nowhere to run, but in circles.”

  Margo ignored him.

  Blatt stopped at the corner, watching the receding toddler. Margo glanced over her shoulder as she pumped for escape and found Blatt standing at the corner, breathing heavily, watching her.

  As she neared the midpoint of the hall a familiar voice reached her ears.

  “We’re looking for a little girl.” Hither’s voice floated along the corridor like a soft ocean breeze.

  “How little?” another voice countered. “The youngest we have here are around ten. They’re servant girls. Are you looking for one of them? We did sign on three new girls this morning.”

  Margo slowed at the exchange. She looked back again to confirm Blatt’s stationary stance. Then she crept to the door and peeked around the corner.

  “No, she’s younger than that. Just under three.” Hither stood in the entryway.

  “I’m afraid—”

  Margo did not give the man a chance to finish as she bolted around the corner and scooted past Hither.

  “Daisy,” the girl squealed as she launched herself at the giant.

  The pilot caught Margo with a familiar grace and settled her into the crook of his arm.

  “You were saying.” Hither turned her frigid ire on the doorman.

  His hand flinched for his gun.

  Shi’s pistol barked. “I don’t reckin I like liars,” the gunslinger grunted as the man stumbled back to collapse in the doorway, gun falling from lifeless fingers.

  Like a disturbed anthill, the household responded to the sound of the shot. Footsteps echoed down the hallway like ball-bearings bouncing across a wooden floor. As the bannermen thundered down the main corridor, heavy bolts slid home on the doors behind the crew.

  With Blatt leading the charge, the han soldiers rounded the corridor and spread across the entryway.

  “Who are you?” Blatt demanded, his eyes cold and calculating as he measured the crew of the One Way Ticket standing in a protective circle with Margo in Daisy’s arm, as close to the center as possible. The Markinshan soldiers edged wider, flanking the group with intentional steps.

  “We’re her family,” Hither snapped. She slipped a foot forward and rolled her weight to the balls of her feet.

  Blatt studied the group. “Not blood. I’d wager a month’s pay on that.”

  “That is not your concern.” Hither shifted sideways to shield Margo with her body. What does matter is that you’ve taken one of ours, and from what we gathered when we found her pram, the taking wasn’t done with the best of intentions.

  “And,” she cast a glance to the welt along Margo’s cheek. “She was not kept in the best conditions.”

  Blatt frowned and said, “That’s above my grade, Miss.”

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  Blatt looked down at the corpse bleeding at his feet. “If you hadn’t just killed one of ours, I’d say you were welcome to a sit-down with the liege and his lady.” He hesitated, tapping at his jaw in thought. “But Brond here leaves a wrinkle in that plan. Blood for blood, it’s the law of the land. You surrender those that perpetrated this killing into our custody, then maybe we see what the lord has to say about your claim to the abandoned girl he took under his protection.”

  “Yer man aimed to pull on me,” Shi growled from Hither’s flank.

  “Be that as it may, this is the law,” Blatt replied.

  Hither measured the man. “You’re stalling. Why?”

  “I’m the head of han security; do I need a reason to keep you here?” Blatt took a deep, cleansing breath and dropped his hands to his sides. “I am offering to let you go in peace with the exception of the murderer and….” He cocked his head, listening, “The girl.”

  “No,” Hither spoke without hesitation. “We all leave or we have trouble.”

  “You would risk escalating this situation and the wrath of the Markinshan?”

  “I’m not terribly worried. First off, I’ve been all over the Fingers and I’ve never heard of Markins. That leads me to believe you aren’t an official han. Second, if this were a situation your family actually took seriously, I wouldn’t be chatting with a retainer. If I read this situation, you aren’t acting on the orders of a han-lord.” A slow, predatory smile spread over Hither’s face as Blatt puffed his chest just enough to validate her words. “Fact of the matter, someone gaffed. Folks I spoke with said it was the lord himself who took the girl.

  “Funny thing, they didn’t call him the han-lord. I would peg him as a low-level retainer or maybe even a boke playing at a kuza. That means you don’t have that power. And if I had to guess, this so-called lord is the gaffer and someone else is trying to cover things.

  “Am I getting close?” Hither narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin as if scenting the air. “The lady is the brains in this family. You’re listening to her right now. She knows her husband crossed someone you don’t want as an enemy.”

  “I suspected as much.” Konstantine’s wife stepped around the corner, gliding between the guards to take a position a step in front of Blatt. “A child of that nature is an anomaly. She does not fear when she should, and not out of ignorance.

  “I’ve looked into her eyes.” She stepped to the side to where she could scowl at Margo nestled in Daisy’s arm. “She has seen death’s angel. She has faced it in a way a normal ch
ild should never be asked to.”

  “She reflects her father,” Hither agreed. “Now, I would say it would be in the best interest of your family to let this walk away. Leave Margo in our care and we act as if this never happened. I guarantee it will be in the best interest of your people. The way we care about her? The captain cares a thousand times more. Where we will kill to escape, he will kill to destroy.

  “He is already at war with a han that sits on the emperor’s council. That war may kill him, but if you make the mistake of harming his daughter, then I would compose your death poems now.”

  The woman studied Hither. Nodding in thought, she turned and with slow steps, drifted back through her wall of men.

  “I suppose there is only one course of action left to us then,” she said in a mournful tone. “If you were to escape and bring word of the damages done, our name would be revealed to this captain of yours. That would not be good for my people.”

  She cast a sad smile over her shoulder as she paused in the doorway. “You mustn’t be allowed to leave. Blatt, do what you must to ensure nothing implicates the Markins name.”

  “As you must.” Hither bowed in understanding. “If you would give me leave to compose my own death poem. Unlike my companions, I come from a family where it is expected. Perhaps you could honor me and hide it away so that my soul doesn’t pass into the void without someone to remember it.”

  The woman nodded her assent.

  “Thank you.” Hither’s sorrowed smile melted the hearts of several of the soldiers encircling them. “Byron, if you would do me the honor of finding me something to write with.”

  “Sec, bosslady,” Byron unslung the pack from his shoulders and knelt as he set it on the ground. Moving with measured ease he rummaged, eventually pulling a handful of wooden pencils from the depths of the pack. “This ‘nough?”

  “That should do,” Hither replied as Daisy set Margo to the ground and tucked her behind his tree trunk of a leg.

  Without warning, Byron cast the pencils into the air and the tension kicked up.

  The ‘pencils’ hovered above the heads of the group long enough for the Markins guards to exchange a nervous glance.