As soon as the screen blanked, Reese ran to the bathroom and dropped over the toilet, not trusting her stomach to remain calm. With her fingers clutched on the rim, she thought of the boxes full of dead people and the cold in the man’s eyes. It was no mistake that they were heading back to Sector Andeka, where Fleet had been trying to clean out the pirate and slaver activity. Somehow she’d signed up to do the dirty work for a criminal. The question was why?
“Why?” Reese asked. She wanted to pace; she wanted to shout, wave her hands, something. But Hirianthial’s body remained coiled on the floor and she couldn’t bring herself to wake him. So instead she sat, hands folded so tightly her knuckles hurt, on the stool just vacated by Sascha. “That’s what I want to know. The client’s given us enough money to make three boxes worth all the cargo we could stuff into the bays. He knows they were living—” her voice quivered, “So my question is... why?”
Kis’eh’t sighed as she rubbed her lower back. Then she removed the specimen and traced its flaws and cracks with delicate fingers. “I’m not sure. I’ve been examining them for several hours and all the tests I’ve run have been inconclusive... but that might be completely meaningless. This isn’t my specialty, but on the other hand, this isn’t exactly organic chemistry, either.” The Glaseah studied the read-outs scrolling across the screen. “Maybe he just thinks they’re pretty.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Reese said.
The Glaseah nodded. “I do too. This... this is a body, correct?”
Reese nodded.
“And we were not contracted for a specific amount of bodies, were we?”
Put that way, Reese couldn’t help but flinch. Nevertheless, she said, “No. Just to fill the boxes.”
“Then this specimen won’t be missed,” Kis’eh’t said and pulled a set of goggles over her eyes.
“Uh, Kis’eh’t—”
“Stand back, Reese.”
“What are you—”
The Glaseah whacked the crystal with chisel, shattering its base with a sound like claws on glass. Most of the column remained unmarred but from the broken middle oozed a translucent sludge. Kis’eh’t captured it in a vial and slid it with practiced motions into the sample station. She started a test running and washed her hands while waiting. “Let’s see what that wins us.”
“Was that a good idea?” Reese asked, stunned. Somehow the ruined remains of the crystal evoked a body far better than it had as a whole.
“It was a hunch,” Kis’eh’t said. “We look different on the inside than we do on the outside, and only our most advanced medical equipment can fully itemize those differences.”
The test ended with a high-pitched ping. Kis’eh’t examined the resulting list and touched the top-most entry. A holograph of a molecule appeared and rotated. “Well how about that. Nudge it just the tiniest bit and you could roll in the money.”
“I don’t understand,” Reese said. “What is it?”
“Wet, Captain,” Kis’eh’t said. “You can use its innards to make wet, far more quickly than you could piece it together in a lab.”
“You must be kidding,” Reese said. Her heart faltered. “We don’t have three trunks full of dead aliens because if you break their bodies up you can make braindead from them.”
“It’s either that or he really is looking for objects d’art,” Kis’eh’t said.
There were very few illegal drugs in the Alliance, given the number of member cultures that either believed in the responsible use of recreational substances or used them in religious ceremonies. The few outlawed drugs had earned their places on the blacklist. Wet had a slew of other nicknames: ‘braindead’, ‘zombie’, ‘mindmelt’. Users didn’t live long, but they paid well for their final days of addiction.
“How much of it can you make with that sample?” Reese whispered.
Kis’eh’t squinted at the read-out. “Mmm. Dose per person is what... less than a milligram? Maybe two hundred doses from what I have here.” She glanced at the shattered crystal. “That’s probably only three-quarters of what’s in the body.”
She was carrying almost a quarter of a million doses of one of the deadliest street drugs in the Alliance in her cargo holds, acquired by the murder of unresisting aliens because she had been willing to sign anything to get herself and the Earthrise solvent and off Harat-Sharii. Her own thoughtlessness had brought her here... and now centered her in the sights of some of the worst criminal elements in the Alliance. She was in danger. Her crew was in danger. And a crime lord who’d wanted to drag money out of people dying in the worst ways possible had used her to do his dirty work. Reese had spent much of her adulthood angry, but this... this rage was so consuming, so towering her entire body trembled and her vision bled crimson.
“Reese?” Kis’eh’t asked softly, touching her shoulder.
“Just go,” Reese said, not seeing anything, not even the wall on the other side of her eyes.
The door slid shut on the Glaseah, leaving Reese shaking on the stool. What did one do with so much anger? Where could you put it? She slid carefully from her perch and bent over the remains of the crystal corpse, counted the shards around its body, tried to imagine what it was like to think, to grow, to live life beneath a sky without a day.
She would have to tell the crew. They’d have to tell Fleet. They’d have to find a way to tell Fleet without bringing down her employer’s enforcement.
A little more of the crystal’s inner fluid pooled from the break.
She’d tell Fleet even if it did bring the enforcement down on them. And if Fleet gave her a chance, she’d kill her employers herself with her bare hands, for dragging her and so many innocent lives into their sordid crimes.
The meeting first. Then they’d figure out how to call down help. Everyone could make it... except the person who’d warned her in the first place. Reese walked over to the blankets and dropped down beside them. The Eldritch was unconscious, as he’d remained since imparting the information. The skin around his eyes was delicate, almost translucent; tiny creases wove a fine gray net at the edges of his eyelids. He still looked unhealthy despite the water, and against his side Allacazam remained stubbornly pressed, refusing to leave even to eat. Sascha had brought his sunlamp from the mess hall.
Reese brushed the Flitzbe first, long enough to see that the wound appeared to be held closed, though its puffy, angry edges disturbed her. She wasn’t well-versed in wounds, so she wasn’t sure where Allacazam was drawing these images from... perhaps Hirianthial’s mind. She hadn’t really thought through the implications of the Flitzbe being able to bridge minds by selecting images from someone else’s and overlaying them.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was unconscious but better and only likely to wake if she touched him... so she did, resting a hand on his shoulder.
That listless eye opened, but this time she could see more wine than black.
“Our employers,” Reese said, and the anger rose anew. “Our employers knew, Hirianthial. They knew, but the insides of the crystals can be used to make wet, so they didn’t care.”
His pupil dilated visibly, and he tried to lift his head. She stopped him with a hand hovering in front of his face. “Don’t. You’re too weak.” She bared her teeth. “We’re going after them. We’re calling the Fleet and by the time we’re done with them that fire you set to the slaver’s house will look like someone playing with a candle.”
He closed his eye and at his side Allacazam’s colors flowed to a muted, pulsing blue. Warmth and pleasure radiated up her arm from the hand that still rested on the Flitzbe’s body.
He’s getting better, isn’t he? she asked him.
A swell of blue clouds, of rain and the smell of wildflowers.
And knowing we’re going to kill our enemies makes him happy, she said. To that, Allacazam did not respond. Perhaps it was the notion of bringing their employers to justice that pleased the Eldritch, and it was her bloodlust that she felt in her mind.
But she remembered the look in his eyes when she’d first met him in that cell. She remembered how clearly he’d indicated that he held to the Kelienne Oath only while employed as a doctor. It made her wonder what he was hiding.
It made her think that gentleness and weakness were not the same things.
Reese pulled herself to her feet and tapped the intercom. “Everyone to the mess hall. We’ve got some things to discuss.”
The silence in the mess hall after her explanation was so uncharacteristic that Reese would have worried had all her emotional energy not already been taken up by anger.
Finally, Irine squeaked. Sascha petted her tail and spoke for her, his voice so brisk and sober Reese suddenly wondered just what she’d hired when she’d bought herself the twins. “So we’re breaking the law and we’ve been threatened if we tattle. That’s the marrow of it.”
“Yes,” Reese said.
“What are we going to do?” Kis’eh’t asked.
“We have to tell Fleet,” Reese said. “There’s no way we can let these people get away with what they’re doing. If we don’t say anything, they’ll just mow the entire planet down to make wet. What if that’s the only planet with the crystal people? We can’t let them commit genocide.”
“But if we just broadcast a message, they’ll know we told on them,” Irine said, quivering. “I bet they find us before Fleet does.”
“We could divert,” Kis’eh’t said. “Head for a starbase.”
“How much you want to bet they’re watching us now that Reese’s sent that message?” Sascha said.
“Then what do we do?” Kis’eh’t said.
“Fail,” Bryer said.
Reese glanced at him. “What?”
“Fail,” Bryer said. “Distress call.”
“You mean fake an engine failure?” Sascha asked. He plucked his lower lip. “That might work. If we send a generalized distress call, we could get Fleet’s attention without broadcasting to them directly.”
“What if they don’t respond?” Irine asked. “What if some other ship finds us first?”
“Then maybe they can carry a message for us,” Reese said. “I like it. It’s better than just yelling for Fleet and hoping they get to us before the drug baron sends someone to smear us against the nearest asteroid.” She nodded. “Bryer, you and Sascha get to fake our drop out of Well. And if you can put us somewhere closer to Fleet than to the pirates, that would be wonderful.”
Bryer stood. “Done.”
Everyone left except Irine.
“Let me guess,” Reese said. “You’d rather be a drug lord’s slave than dead.”
Irine shook her head. “Belonging to someone I can handle. Being drugged with something like wet... “ She shivered.
Reese surprised herself by hugging the Harat-Shar. “We’ll get out of this one just like we’ve gotten out of all the others.”
“Are we ever going to make money in a boring way?” Irine asked in a small voice.
“I don’t know,” Reese said. “But if we don’t start, I’m going to think seriously about an early retirement.”
“Dropping out of Well in five-four-three-two-one—”
The engine noise cut off abruptly, followed by a dwindling high-pitched whine that faded to complete silence.
“You’re sure it’s not actually dead?” Reese asked.
From the intercom came a Phoenixae huff. “Pretending.”
“I hope so,” Reese said. “We spent a lot of blood money on those engines.” She leaned over and cupped a hand over the broadcast panel.
“Take a deep breath, Boss,” Sascha said.
Reese nodded, then tapped the panel and spoke. “This is an all-call from the TMS Earthrise, Captain Theresa Eddings commanding. We have suffered a catastrophic Well failure and request immediate assistance. Repeat, we have had a Well failure and request the assistance of any nearby friendly.”
“Sending,” Irine said.
“Put it on repeat until someone hails us,” Reese said. “Let’s see if we can’t attract a nice, studly warcruiser.”
Sascha laughed. “Since there’s only a handful of those in the whole Alliance, we might be waiting a long time.”
“I’ll settle for a battlecruiser, then. Or any Fleet ship with more guns than we’ve got.”
“That would be all of them,” Sascha said, unbuckling his harness and stretching his arms above his head.
“Then it shouldn’t take long,” Reese said, pleased. “Maybe a nice hour eating in the mess hall, a nap and we’ll have lunch with the sector commander and make him understand.”
“What was his name again?” Irine asked.
“Jonah NotAgain, of the UAV StarCounter,” Reese said.
“NotAgain,” Sascha said. “I wonder why he chose that for a Foundname?”
“I don’t know,” Reese said. “But right now “Not Again” is about what I’m feeling with this whole pirate thing. Care to join me for lunch?”
“Yay!” Irine said, and bounced to her feet.
“Lead the way,” Sascha said, standing.
They reached the lift when the hail alert sounded.
“Already?” Irine said.
Reese quashed the sense of foreboding and said with forced cheer, “Maybe their galley will serve better food than ours.”
Sascha dropped into the pilot’s chair again. His ears flattened immediately. “Angels damn it all! It’s the pirates!”
“Which pirates?” Reese said, joining him.
“The ones from Selebra!” Sascha said.
“Were they following us?” Irine asked.
“They must have been,” Sascha said. “There’s no way they could be right on top of our tails like that otherwise. Which means... “
“Which means you were right when you said they thought of us as friends,” Reese said. “Back in Demini System when they flashed their lights at us. They were guarding the planet for our employers. And then they tailed us... for insurance.”
“ARTV Crawler to TMS Earthrise. We are responding to your request for assistance.”
An Alliance Registered Trade Vessel could be from anywhere. Reese leaned forward and opened the channel. “Earthrise to Trade Vessel Crawler. We’re glad to see you.”
“We’re happy to help,” a man’s jaunty tenor replied. “We’ve got a great Well engineering team we’d be happy to lend you.”
“We appreciate the offer, Crawler, but we’d hate to inconvenience you. All we need is a few spare parts and we’ll be good to travel. We’ll repay you, if you’ve got what we need.”
“I’m sure we do, Earthrise.”
“Great,” Reese said. “If you could just net them and push them out an airlock we’ll haul them in.”
“No need for the trouble... we’ve got a Pad.”
Irine and Sascha were staring at the panel with flattened ears. Reese would have rathered having ears to flatten than the cold sweat she got instead. She separated her collar from the damp skin at her neck. “We’d hate to put you through the trouble,” she said.
“It’s no trouble at all. Just give us coordinates in a cargo bay and we’ll drop them off ourselves. We can send our engineering team over to help with the install. It’s really no trouble.”
Reese said, “Crawler, we appreciate your help but we’re not too fond of outsiders. We’d prefer to do the work ourselves. Engineers get superstitious around machines.”
“And captains get superstitious around cargo,” the man said, his tenor hardening. “We’re here to help, Earthrise. We wouldn’t want you failing to fulfill your contracts.”
Reese dropped her head. They were threatening her. If they suspected her of bluffing, what would they do to her and the crew? They might just kill them and leave with the crystals. They might do that anyway. “Any help you could give us would be greatly appreciated,” she said finally. “Just don’t step on my engineer’s talons.”
The man’s cheer magically returned. “We’ll do nothing of the sort.
Send us your needs and the coordinates and we’ll take care of business.”
“Will do. Thanks, Crawler. Earthrise away.”
Reese slammed the channel closed and said, “Blood and death, arii’sen, we’re in trouble now.” She turned and punched the intercom. “All hands to the mess hall, and fast.”
“We need to sabotage the engines,” Reese said. “So that it looks real.”
“Are you crazy?” Irine asked. “We won’t be able to run!”
“But they’re coming to the ship,” Kis’eh’t said. “If they arrive and discover our engines aren’t broken, they’ll figure out our real reason for sending the distress call.”
“So it has to be real,” Reese said. “Bryer, can you do it?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Good,” Reese said. “Go make it happen.”
The Phoenix loped out of the room. To the rest of them, Reese said, “We’re going to have boarders. What I’m worried about is that they’ll just shoot us all and haul the cargo away.”
“We’ll have to hide it,” Sascha said.
“Somewhere that’s locked,” Kis’eh’t said. “As locked as we can. Voice, at least.”
“More than voice,” Reese said. “Voice prints can be forced.”
A moment’s tense silence.
Irine said, “There’s a cabin that’s DNA-lockable.”
“There’s what?” Reese asked, incredulous. DNA-locking required voice prints, blood matches and iris checks, all from a conscious individual within a pre-set stress index. “I didn’t install a DNA lock anywhere.”
“I know,” Irine said. “I had it put in.” Her tail swished. “I leave it open almost all the time. But for an hour or two it’s nice to know you won’t run into us.”
Reese stared at her. “You have sex in it?”
“Where you can’t find us by accident,” Irine said. “I did it for you.”
And in a twisted Harat-Shariin way, it was a great gift, one that would have required the twins to float above their own acculturation long enough to realize just how deeply it disturbed Reese to know about typical Harat-Shariin family relationships.
Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) Page 29