The Belter's Story (BRIGAND)

by Natalie French

  But now, seeing her, and the purity of her energy, somehow it liberated us and caged us at the same time. For the first time in years, we felt a murmur of what we had felt with the Laena. If only for a short while, we had been complete. Now it seemed possible that we could be whole once again. The thought made us giddy.

  And with that came the rush of realization that there were still remnants of the Jase and the Laena in us. Little fragments of memory; an image, a sound, a scent. They were still there, forming an undercurrent that the energy of the Trig seemed to illuminate as her glow drove back the darkness that had engulfed us for so long.

  We took our leave from her and headed aft, towards engineering. Perhaps we could manage a few improvements to the drives as well.

  As we stepped through the hatch into the engineering compartment we felt it, faint but unmistakable. We stopped and silently retreated toward the bridge. We needed to be sure before we alerted anyone, but we knew.

  We had a problem.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  We had to keep her from harm. We knew that, if it came to it — the Trand, or anything else that might threaten the Trig, we would do whatever it took to ensure her safety. We would shield her from danger.

  For that we needed command of the ship.

  We got the ship's little servbot to show us where the tool lockers were and then returned to the cockpit. With some effort we would be able to control every ship system, even flight and navigation, directly through our implants, no matter where we were. We crawled under the co-pilot's console and got to work.

  Hours later, a voice boomed behind us, "What in the ever loving fuck are you doing?"

  We smiled up from under the co-pilot's panel. The happiness we felt at the sound of his voice was genuine. We were pleased to see the Roy alive. "Modifications. Improvements. The Cruase can pilot so much better with direct control. Not to worry. Very little risk of injury or death."

  Resuming our work, we considered informing him about what we'd found in Engineering, but we knew that, if we told him, he would act sooner than he should. We needed to know what we faced first.

  The Roy dropped with a thump into pilot’s station and asked, "How long before we can boost? We need to be gone."

  We closed our eyes and sought an optimal response. The Roy was still recovering. The Trig was under sedation in the autodoc. We were far too weak for a serious confrontation. Caution was imperative and so we would withhold what we had found. "Not long. Perhaps another hour. But there is no urgency. Stealth parameters have been improved by 56%. They will not see us."

  The Roy’s glow became relaxed and we could sense his acceptance. "Take your time then. I need a nap anyway."

  We finished our work while the Roy slipped into an exhausted sleep. We could hear his heart slow and his breathing become more rhythmic.

  Quickly, we made our way back to the sick bay, the servbot following behind. It was a comparatively primitive model. Bots from the Inner tended to be cheap and simple and this one was no exception. We felt the Su's small glow of superiority and were amused.

  The Trig was secure in the autodoc, her vitals good; her injuries mending under its ministrations. We allowed ourselves the luxury of one longing look at the haunting beauty of her glow, and then we turned to the crash kit. A few seconds of rummaging and we found what we sought.

  Moments later we were back in the cockpit. With care, so as not to wake the Roy, we touched the injector to his bare forearm. He stirred but that was all. In seconds, he was sedated. We would not be interrupted.

  With unimpeded access, we were able to gain full control of the ship's systems. The more difficult task was devising a way to neutralize whatever it was that lurked in Engineering. Ultimately, we settled on an aerosol, a sleep agent that the ship's servbot could deploy under our direction. It took some time to arrange, but we managed it and, at least for the moment, we felt safe.

  Now we would wait for the Trig.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The breathy hiss of the autodoc's seal releasing woke us. We released the restraint field and wordlessly handed her an exo undersuit filched from the equipment locker in the airlock. It was loose, but the length was wasn't bad and she slipped it on, zipping the front, leaving the collar open. She looked glorious. Her energy pulsed with renewed vigor and we had to look away to quash the surge of emotion that nearly drove us to tears — again. To cover, we laughed our delight.

  "The Roy’s in the cockpit. Sleeping. Shall we wake him?"

  "Sure." She yawned as she stretched her arms high above her head, balancing on her toes and arching her back.

  "You will not let him hurt us?"

  "Hurt you? Why… what did you do?" Her eyes narrowed. "Cruase?"

  We suddenly felt the urge to check the seating rings of our extensibles.

  "Cruase." She ordered. "Look at me."

  "No. No, we cannot. We are sorry."

  "Sorry? For what?" Her voice had lost that wraith coolness. She exuded alarm.

  "We did not hurt him. Just a sedative to help him rest."

  "Ah. Well that’s okay, right? You had me worried for a second." She stretched again and an involuntary shiver rebounded through her slender form. White energy bloomed from her body and we ached to our bones at the sight.

  We averted our eyes again. "Yes. But the Roy will be angry we think."

  The Trig laughed, but not with intent. She was simply amused and happy. Yes, we could feel it. The emotion was completely genuine. If only for a moment, we had pleased her and that pleased us beyond words. "Yes he probably will."

  She put her hand on our shoulder, a simple gesture of friendship, but it was as if the beam of a pulsar had swept over us. We were unprepared and the rush of her sweet glow nearly incinerated our control. For a millisecond, we wanted only to press ourselves to her and take everything.

  We lurched back from the Trig, fighting our instincts. "You must never touch the Cruase!" Our breath came in urgent little gulps. Our skin misted with the sweat of our agitation.

  "Whoa. I’m sorry, Cruase." She held her palms toward us in surrender. "You don't need to worry. I’m not going to hurt you."

  "No. No. We know you will not hurt us," we lied. If she touched us again we would suffer the anguish we had once felt when we took Laena. Only this time it would be worse. Because we knew what would happen. And because part of us wanted that beyond all conceivable desire.

  We stared at each other for several seconds and our breathing steadied to match hers. Then we realized she was pacing us, syncing with us, slowing hers and, in return, slowing ours. She was playing. She was testing us.

  "So… We agree not to hurt each other?" She laughed again and extended her arm, fist closed inside the long sleeve. We understood the gesture and reciprocated, fisted hand pulled inside our own sleeve. We tapped our covered knuckles against hers and her eyes widened at the speed of our movement.

  "You're not quite what you seem are you, Cruase?" Amusement… Interest…

  We gestured to the passageway, deliberately ignoring her question. "Come. We should wake the Roy. He will be happy to see you."

  When we crowded into the cockpit we worried that this might not have been the wisest course. She was so close. We could hear her pulse, smell her body, feel the warmth of her skin mere centimeters away. Her glow forced us to struggle for coherent thought, much less actual conversation.

  "He looks so peaceful. It's kind of sweet." The Trig poked the Roy's shoulder playfully, eliciting nothing but a slight break in the rhythm of his faint snores.

  "Please don't antagonize him. He may be disoriented when he wakes." We pressed a stimpack to his forearm and stepped back out of reach.

  The Roy roused in seconds. His arms flew out in front of him as if pushing against an invisible wall. His eyes snapped wide and the red sparks in his glow showed us the momentary panic that gripped him. "What? Where are we?"

  Then his eyes found the Trig and comprehension preceded elation on his face. "Y
ou're okay."

  Then his gaze moved to us. "You —"

  "We have completed the improvements."

  The Roy scowled. "I remember. Must have been in worse shape than I thought. What the hell was I thinking, letting you fuck with the ship like that? What did you do?"

  The Trig stepped between us, her hand on the Roy's shoulder. "Calm down, Roy. He's trying to help us."

  "Shit. How long have I been out?" His anger was fueled by fear, but not for himself. His instinct was to protect the Trig, a motivation we had no trouble understanding, and he was worried that he had put her in danger again.

  "Only long enough to finish our work. Perhaps twelve hours."

  He lunged at us then and we backpedaled into the passageway, falling backward onto the deck. The Trig threw her weight into him, dropping low and catching him just below the sternum with her elbow. The Roy made a little huffing noise and lost his forward momentum. "Roy, stop! If he wanted to hurt us he'd already have done it."

  It took a few moments, but the Roy caught his breath. We could still see his agitation — crimson slashing through yellow, but we knew it was born of his concern for the Trig. "Why?" he grated.

  While we would gladly put our existence into the hands of our goddess, we were far less certain about the marine. He was volatile, quick to anger, and perfectly capable of killing us before we could do anything to stop him. The fact that he might regret the act later was of little consequence and, for the first time in a very long time, we wanted to live. We had found our purpose and her name was Trig. Still, we knew she trusted him and so we elected do the same. We would tell him the truth.

  "We became aware of a threat. Here. On the ship. But it was important that we not react precipitously. So we took the time to neutralize it, at least for now, and gave you both the chance to recover."

  The Roy was bristling again. "Threat? What threat? Stop fucking around and just tell me what you found before I pound it out of you."

  "Roy. Wait. Look at me." The Trig placed her palm over the Roy's heart. We could see his breathing slow and then we realized she was doing the same thing to him that she had done with us. She drew him into calm with nothing but her eyes and her lungs. She was magnificent.

  Without breaking eye contact with the Roy, she asked, "Cruase, what did you find?"

  "Another life form. Human. Not Earther or Jovian. Definitely not Belter. Irezi perhaps? We aren't certain. We avoided contact."

  The Roy may have been soothed by the Trig's ministrations, but we could still see the colors of tension around him. "Dammit, Cruase, you went twelve hours without telling us about this? You don't ignore a threat like that. What the fuck were you thinking?"

  "They have been aboard since you left Marajo. We can show you the life support logs. CO2 production rates indicate the continuous presence of three adult human life forms."

  "What? That can't be right. This ship isn't that big. I'd have seen them. Heard… something." He was worried now. Worried that he had somehow failed as a soldier. As a guardian.

  The Trig arched an eyebrow. We could tell she was enjoying this. She obviously cared for the Roy, even more than she realized. But she didn't seem to mind watching him confront his own fallibility.

  We turned and started down the passageway, toward Engineering. "Perhaps we should show you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "There's nobody here, Cruase." The Roy was standing in the center of the engineering compartment, fists on hips — that scowl dragging his brows together again.

  "Down there." We pointed to the panel under his feet. "In the access tube. It should be safe to look."

  The Roy held a sidearm in his right hand. He knelt and, with his left, flipped open the latches that held the panel in place. "Let's see what we have here."

  He lifted the panel and let it fall open with a metallic thud, while he moved to aim his weapon into the narrow shaft below.

  "What the fu —"

  She was lying on her side with her face turned downward, away from us. Her long legs were pulled up tight against her chest. Her buzzed hair was a pale golden color. Her body light slate. She lay immobile and we could see the gentle movement of her abdomen. She was breathing.

  "— ck is an Irezi doing in here?"

  The Trig dropped to one knee and looked more closely at the unconscious Irezi. "Hold on. I know her. Cut… we… I helped her escape the Confed."

  "So can someone please explain how she ended up on my ship?" The Roy was looking directly at the Trig, his expression challenging, even aggressive.

  The Trig shrugged. "Maybe we should wake her up and ask her."

  "Wait," we implored. "There is something else you should know."

  The Roy looked at us, his tone more even than we would have expected. "Why am I not surprised? Ok, Cruase, let's just get this over with. What else haven't you told me?"

  "Siderophages." We waited for a reaction, but the Roy just looked at us. "Nanomorphs, very much like the symbiotes the Confed and the Irezi use, but designed to inhabit inorganic hosts."

  We noticed the Trig's expression and the way her hand absently drifted to the small of her back. We had no idea why, but it was clear the term meant something to her.

  "I'm not going to like this am I?"

  "The ship is infested with them."

  The Roy stood suddenly. "Oh that's just fucking great. A stowaway and now you tell me my ship is, what, diseased? Why is it that, ever since you came on board, I keep getting bad news? Maybe —"

  "Roy." The Trig moved close to him. "It's not his fault. This happened before we ever saw him. Before we even left Marajo."

  "We would estimate the infestation has been under way for several months."

  "Wait. You mean… Of course. I should have… What will they do to the ship?" The Roy had just realized something important.

  "Destroy it. The phages were introduced to the exterior of the hull first. They have been working their way inward. Critical ship systems will be affected soon. Sensing, navigation, life support. Eventually power."

  The Trig placed a hand on the Roy's arm. "Cruase, how long do we have?"

  "A few days. A week. It's impossible to predict with significant accuracy. We only have one option."

  We could see resignation in the Roy's posture. He looked at the Trig and then at us. We could see the change in his glow. He had made a decision. A slight shake of his head, as if dismissing a dissenting thought and then he cracked a lopsided smile that slid into rueful a grin.

  "We're gonna need another ship."

  A PREVIEW OF BOOK FOUR

  Book Four

  The Irezi's Story

  The blood always followed me. I breathed my relief, drawing it gratefully through my nose, when I thought I had outrun it this time. I raced barefoot over the moss covered ground of the Old Forest in Arc Valles where low-slung shafts of pale sunlight sparked and refracted from crystalline beads of moisture. I stopped and watched as dark mold sprouted from the base of a redwood, spreading up the craggy trunk.

  The mist that clung to the ground parted, revealing a mirror propped against the bole of the tree. I stared at my reflection, the green of my eyes so clear and vibrant, almost glowing, and I smiled in spite of the tension in my small limbs. I watched, wide-eyed as red flowers sprouted from my sun-colored hair, sprouting thorns and pricking my pale gray skin as they snaked from my scalp, down my neck and arms to my legs.

  I opened my mouth to cry out, but the flowers began to shift and change. I knew what would come next.

  The blood. Rolling rivers of it.

  Then I screamed.

  My jichan’s voice came to me like a far off whisper even though he sat close by. "Relax, little moku, it’s just your mind doing what minds do."

  I concentrated and pictured the fragrant burgundy fruit of the purple-leaf plums from the Uzbek Biome, of our clan, of children laughing and running with white ribbons woven into their hair. But the ribbons turned red and the blood came back, pouring in
to my thoughts uninvited.

  My brow furrowed and the heavy cloud of a headache loomed in my right temple. I did my best to ignore the pain. I never told Sejei, my jichan, about the headaches.

  "Focus on your special place," he whispered. His voice soothed a little of the tension from me, but I couldn’t hold the image. The harder I concentrated, the more the blood flowed. Petals crumbled and rivers of blood pooled at my feet. I stared into the mirror which was now suspended in the air, and gasped when, instead of my reflection, I saw the blood swirling, thick and dark. Then a face emerged from the crimson vortex. A woman’s face, with skin as bleached as the whitest orchid.

  Sejei reassured me, "Allow whatever images desire attention to come forth. They cannot hurt you. Not unless you wish it."

  On a level I couldn’t explain to him, I knew they weren’t my own. That maybe they could do me harm.

  "I can’t do it, Sejei-amya." I opened my eyes and blinked against the light of the candles around us. Even that soft glow scalded my eyes. I rubbed at my face with the heels of my hands and ran my fingers through my hair, scratching at the pain on my scalp. I tried to keep my movements small so Sejei wouldn’t notice.

  "Are you alright?" he asked.

  "Yes, just, um, an itch." I glanced over at him and he remained seated, legs crossed, with his eyes closed. Even with his eyes closed, he seemed to know my every move. My untruths were nothing more than shards of glass, prisms for him to look through, to see the true nature of me.

  "You did well, moku. Lasted longer this time," he said quietly, his eyes still closed.

  I didn’t understand why I had to learn meditation, and now with the blood, I wondered why it was necessary to continue when I was so obviously a failure at it. I couldn’t even stay in my special place for a minute of quiet breathing before fear and blood battered their way into my mental sanctum.