by King, Sara
The girl switched on the bone saw again. “But, like I said, I need a guinea-pig, and I don’t like you.”
“Listen, you crazy little bitch, let me go!” Tatiana jerked at the restraints, but didn’t even succeed in rocking the table.
“You see, you got a bunch of pretty pictures, where all I ever got was screams.”
Tatiana blinked at her. “Pictures?” Was the girl psychotic? “What the hell are you talking about? Let me go. Somebody help!”
The little girl laughed. “Screaming is good. That’s what they’re expecting. The surgeons were ordered not to use anesthetics, so I figured, why not? Makes for more interesting dinner conversation later. You know…horror stories to tell your kids?” The girl chuckled and stepped forward with the saw.
Tatiana shrieked and tried to thrash her head aside, but the robot had strapped it brutally—and effectively—to the table.
“Now, before we start,” the kid said, bringing the spinning blade within centimeters of Tatiana’s left eye, “I want to be very clear about something.”
Tatiana whimpered and fisted her hands, her heart shooting streams of acid through her veins. “Please don’t do this.”
The girl smiled at her. “If you pass out, I’m going to stop everything to revive you, then I’m going to administer a powerful stimulant. Unfortunately, that will also make it hurt much, much worse, so please try and stay conscious, okay? I want you to experience everything.” She gave Tatiana another icy smile, then the blade was descending, and Tatiana emptied her lungs in a scream.
Chapter 41
Jersey
“Steele? Yeah. I got my eyes on her right now. Nah, totally dead.”
Killer, Wideman giggled.
No, Magali screamed inwardly. No! Go away, just go away! Whether she was talking to the Nephyr or Wideman, she wasn’t sure.
“Like what, a broken leg?” the man went on. “Nah, none that I can see. Looks like she fell on her back.”
Please go away, Magali whimpered inside.
“I dunno, a couple days? She’s cold as an ice cube.”
…Cold as an ice cube? Magali’s startled mind asked. He hadn’t even touched her. Nephyrs had heat-sensors built into their skin. There was no way he couldn’t see she wasn’t alive.
“Yeah, sure. Will do.” She heard the footsteps move closer.
Can’t let him get too close, Magali realized, suddenly launching into another panic. If he got close enough to take her gun from her, it was all over. Pleaaase, her ragged mind whispered. Please just go…
She heard the Nephyr slow and start to kneel. “Hey there,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”
Magali snapped her eyes open and whipped the gun around, holding it up between them. It was a Nephyr, clad in the same jet black gear as the others, the same gold filigreed skin, though she didn’t recognize him as one from the cave. “Back off and keep your hand from your ear,” she ordered. Nephyrs had a special transmitter built into the skin under their ear that allowed them to make calls to camp computer systems, ships, or other Nephyrs.
The Nephyr hesitated, looking down at her gun warily. Very slowly, he held up both his hands, palms facing her, and ducked his head in a gesture of peace. “I heard what you did for those eggers.” He gave her a timid smile.
Lying, she thought, trembling as she watched him down the barrel of the gun.
After a long pause, he gently offered, “My name’s Jersey.”
“I have to kill you,” Magali whispered.
He made a nervous laugh. “Uh, Miss, you could always lower the gun and we could talk.”
Magali shuddered inside. She could, too, couldn’t she? But if she did, he would take her gun away, and she was never letting that happen again. Never. Her entire body shaking, she said, “It isn’t happening again. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” the guy said softly, “I know this is gonna be hard to believe, considering I look just like that psycho Steele, but I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’s right,” Magali whispered hoarsely. “You’re not.” Never again. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
The Nephyr’s blue-green eyes widened and flickered to something above and behind her. Her mind stumbling from exhaustion, Magali hesitated, and in that horrified moment, she realized she had never ascertained he didn’t have a partner. She turned to look over her shoulder.
Inhumanly fast, the Nephyr lunged forward, catching her arm with his glittering fingers and pushing it sideways. Magali, her body bruised and exhausted, was too slow in pulling the trigger. The round glanced off the side of his cheek, hitting the cliff behind them. Magali screamed and tried to wrestle it free, to get off another shot, but the arm that held her had all the hydraulic strength of a crane, keeping the gun inexorably pointed at the sky.
Then the Nephyr swallowed and glanced over his shoulder, saw the singed mark in the rock where the round had penetrated, then looked back at her, his aquamarine eyes searching hers. He reached up with his other hand and, with something akin to gentleness, pulled the gun from her fingers and set it behind him. “You want something to eat?”
Magali shuddered and went limp under his brutally strong grip. His unnaturally smooth fingers felt like warm glass against her forearm. She remembered the last time she’d felt that unnatural smoothness, the crystalline hardness against her skin, and she swallowed back bile. She ducked her head to her chest in despair, her entire body shaking around her. “Just kill me. Please.”
“Erm. How about hot chocolate, instead?”
Magali frowned at the sand between their knees. Then, slowly, she lifted her head so she could see his face.
Under the glittering circuitry, he offered her a shy smile. “You know how to remove a lifeline, right?”
Magali’s exhausted mind stuttered. A trick, she finally thought. It had to be some sort of trick. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for the other Nephyrs.
“I’m alone,” the Nephyr said softly. Very slowly, he released her forearm and lowered his hand, watching her reaction closely. When Magali didn’t scramble away from him, he offered, “If you get on the ship with me, I’ll take you to Silver City.”
A trick! her ragged mind screamed. Another trick! She couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust them. They lied with smiles on their faces, gentleness in their touch. Just like Anna. Magali felt like she was swimming. She could hear Wideman chanting in the background, could see the edges of her mind fraying, the corruption eating inward. She felt herself teetering, very close to falling—somewhere. Close to letting go. Close to—
The Nephyr lowered his head so he could peer up into her face. “My name’s Jersey Brackett, of the original Brackett clan that helped colonize the South Tear. I was born in Six Bears, thirty-five years ago zoomtime. They drafted me when I was fourteen. Spent five years in cryo, each way.”
Magali felt part of her snap back into place. The Bracketts were a legend—before they were all killed in the Yolk mines. Six Bears was a ghost-town south of the Tear. Between the Yolk drafts and the Nephyrs, there was nothing left. Her world came back into focus as she frowned at him. “What?”
Very slowly, still holding his hands up in peace, the Nephyr got to his feet and retrieved the gun. Then, tilting his head sideways at the ship, he said, “Come on? I’ll tell you the rest onboard, once we’ve got some food in you, okay? You don’t look too hot.” He eased his way sideways, to the base of the ramp, gesturing into the ship’s bowels.
Another trick, Magali thought, the remaining strands of her mind straining to the edge of breaking. It has to be another trick. Half of her wanted to just follow him up the ramp, and half of her wanted to hurtle into the Snake and suck in as much of its acidic water into her lungs as she could before he could pull her out.
“Please,” the Nephyr said. His voice actually sounded anguished. “Trust me. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve been looking for you for a really long time.”
They want me alive, Magali’s mind babbled. Alive
for more of their games.
The Nephyr seemed to droop, watching her. He glanced up at the sun, then back at her. Then, gingerly, he set the gun inside the ship and started walking back towards her, pulling off his shirt.
…pulling off his shirt?
Then he was kneeling beside her again, poking her head through the hole in the jet-black cloth, then easing her hands through the arm-holes, the unnatural hard-smooth of his hands brushing her skin as he dragged the hem downward to cover her chest and back.
Magali could find no resistance as the Nephyr then took her by the palm and gently pulled her to her feet. “Come on. I’ve got food and water on the ship. Nice little bunk, too, so you can lay down.”
He wants to put me in his bed. Magali froze, coming to a halt, her heart starting to pound like a jackhammer.
The Nephyr hesitated, giving her a pained look. “It only fits one person. It’s a scout ship. Only built for a crew of two, and somebody’s supposed to be at the controls at all times.”
Magali didn’t believe him. She couldn’t believe him. But when he gently put an arm around the small of her back and guided her into the tiny belly of the ship, she let him ease her into the shadows beyond.
“Okay, stay here a second,” the Nephyr said. He hit the button for the ramp and triggered the airlock, then, with a last glance at her, turned and ducked through the entrance to the forward compartment and she heard tinny rustlings inside.
Magali’s eyes found the gun, still sitting on the carpet where he’d set it. In a daze, she squatted and retrieved it. Then, seeing the tiny bunk the Nephyr had mentioned, she sat on it and stared at the clothing and gear racks on the other side of the narrow hallway, considering what it would be like to finally put the muzzle to her brain and pull the trigger.
A few minutes later, the Nephyr returned with a steaming cup in one hand, a bowl in the other, his glittering chest covered with another ebony shirt. He had already ducked through the aft compartment door when he saw the gun in her lap. He hesitated. His blue-green eyes shifted to her face and she saw anxiousness, there. Clearing his throat, he completed the last few steps to ease himself down onto the bunk beside her.
“Hot chocolate,” he said, offering her a plain steel cup filled with steaming liquid. Magali glanced down at it, saw the glittering fingers clutching the handle of the cup, then looked back up at him, feeling like she were watching a puppet in a traveling peddler’s show.
The Nephyr cleared his throat nervously, then set the cup aside and offered her the bowl. “Chicken soup,” he said, moving the spoon along the rim so that it was facing her. “With extra helpings of chicken, ‘cause the Nephs would bitch if Supply skimped out on the meat.” He laughed uncomfortably. When Magali didn’t even look at it, he lowered his voice and said, “Please?”
Magali dropped her head. For a long moment, Magali just stared down at the carrots and noodles floating amidst the yellowish broth, unable to comprehend it. Then, almost as if her limbs were powered by someone else, she reached up and took the bowl.
The Nephyr seemed to relax slightly as her numb fingers found the spoon and she began to eat. He watched closely, but made no move to take the gun from her lap. Instead, after a moment, he reached up and dragged a fuzzy green blanket out of the overhead bin and gingerly wrapped it around her shoulders as she spooned the soup into her mouth. When she was finished, he again offered her the hot chocolate, handle-first.
Magali took it mechanically, still waiting for the trick. Her eyes found the mark of Captain on the Nephyr’s bare arm, embedded in the glittering skin just above the elbow. A golden profile of a wolf; head low, one leg lifted. It rested in the same little black-and-gold patch as Steele’s arrow-clenching fist of colonel. In bold golden numbers above the wolf stood a proudly-emblazoned 43.
Seeing her stare, the Nephyr cleared his throat uncomfortably and crossed his arms, dropping his hand nonchalantly over the patch. He got up and, one hand still covering the skin of his arm, dragged a black, unmarked long-sleeved shirt from one of the clothes bins, then tugged it over his head. Magali watched the wolf disappear under another layer of black before he sat down beside her again. “Would you like water, instead?”
Magali’s eyes remained on the spot above his elbow, where she knew the golden 43 rested just under the thin layer of cotton…
“Hey.” The Nephyr touched her chin and dragged her face up to meet his. “I’m not like them. I swear.” He looked so genuine, so honest…
Magali had to look away. She glanced down into the swirling brown liquid, instead. If it had been Anna, it would’ve been laced with some sort of chemical…
“It’s not drugged,” the Nephyr said softly.
Magali’s eyes lifted back to his face. For several long minutes, she just studied his face, trying to determine the catch. “How do I know,” she managed, through dry, cracked lips, “This isn’t a trick?”
The Nephyr’s blue-green eyes darkened for the first time. “I went through enough mind-games in Nephyr Academy. Was hard enough to keep myself on the straight-and-level.” His eyes grew distant and his mouth twisted in distaste. “I don’t need to spread it around.”
Like he’s talking about a disease, Magali realized, watching him.
The Nephyr seemingly shook himself, then took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Okay then. I’m gonna go head up the controls and get us the hell out of range of the camp computer. You should probably get some sleep. If you don’t want the chocolate, drop the whole thing in the waste bin and I’ll take care of it later.” He started to stand and turned, his back to her.
“Aren’t you going to take the gun from me?” Magali blurted.
The Nephyr hesitated and looked back at her. “You gonna use it on yourself?”
Magali thought about it. “No.”
“Then no.” He ducked through the door and disappeared. A few minutes later, she felt the ship’s engines power on and the entire vessel jiggled as the landing gear began to retract.
Magali looked down at her hot chocolate, thinking about the sorts of things that Anna would have put into it. Her eyes flickered to the gun, then to the blanket around her shoulders and the empty soup-bowl resting on the bed beside her. After a long moment, she brought the cup to her mouth and drank.
Chapter 42
That Night in the Desert…
Joel woke to the cold muzzle of a shotgun in his mouth. He knew it was the muzzle of a shotgun by the distinctive sha-shunk as someone pumped the action. When he opened his eyes, a voluptuous, green-eyed beauty scowled down at him over the barrel.
God, he had horrible luck with women.
“What did I do?” Joel asked around the barrel of the gun. It came out like, “Waa thid aa thoo?”
The woman leaned close, jiggling the ring of teeth hanging from her neck. “Why did you do it, Joel?”
Then he placed the necklace and Joel froze. Jeanne Ivory. The pirate that collected debts in the form of molars. Oh shit. Horrible luck with women. Last time he’d seen Jeanne, it had been stranded in an equatorial desert just west of the Tear, watching him take off with about two hundred mil in raw Yolk that she’d carefully laid out and prepped the night before—right before he’d given her the night of her life. He swallowed, deciding not to bring it up, just in case she had forgotten. “Uhm. Dhoo wath?” He knew better than to ask a pirate like Jeanne to jog his memory.
Jeanne did not remove the gun and continued to give him a flat green stare. “Why’d you save those people, Joel?”
Save those people… Joel frowned, wondering what the hell she could be talking about. Last people he remembered saving had been a starving village by ‘forgetting’ a few thousand pounds of flour in their main square.
“Thley were uungry?”
“Not only the folks in Deaddrunk, but the eggers in Yolk Factory 14, too. That’s not in your nature, Joel. Who are you double-crossing this time?”
Joel frowned and shoved the gun out of his face, sitting up. �
�Eggers? What egg—” Then he felt his face go slack as he remembered. “I saved eggers.”
Jeanne took a step back, the shotgun still aimed at his face. “They say you were spouting some horseshit about changing your name to Ferryman Joel. Why would you do that, Runaway? Or should I just blow your lying tongue through your lizard brain and call it good?”
Joel sighed and gave her an irritated look. “So I took your virginity and fibbed a little bit. I didn’t leave you without resources, and only disconnected the power supply to your ship’s command console. Easy fix. And you told me it was the best damn night of your life, so don’t give me your crap, Jeanne.”
Jeanne’s pretty green eyes narrowed.
He shoved himself to the side of the rickety, rough-hewn bed and put his bare feet on the dirt floor. He was actually surprised he was alive. He had dropped into Deaddrunk as a last resort, on the off-chance that maybe they wouldn’t remember who he was long enough to patch him up. And it had been sheer, blind luck that the joyriding idiot who had stolen his TAG had gone off lollygagging into the woods like a rookie, giving Joel just enough time to load the rest of the survivors onboard and ferry them to safety. He barely remembered that. Mostly, he remembered someone yelling at him to stay conscious, slapping him when he tried to run the ship into a mountainside. That had been annoying. He’d been so tired… He had almost done it just to make them leave him alone.
Joel groaned and pushed his palm to the side of his head. He guessed he had always been lucky, in a weird sort of way. Twice in one day, he should’ve wandered off to meet his Maker, but it looked as if not only the surgeon patched him up, but he’d also stayed awake long enough to land the ship, which he didn’t even remember. Hell, somebody had even put some work in on his hand. He bent the fingers the Nephyr had crushed, grimacing. They ached, but were mostly whole, so either someone had spent some time and money patching him up or he’d been unconscious for several weeks. He hated to consider the latter.