by T. F. Grant
A fraught hour later they had crawled through featureless black corridors winding deeper and deeper into the center of the station. At one point, they’d climbed up a seemingly endless flight of stairs and passed through a gravity well, meaning they were now beyond the meridian.
Sounds of gunfire punched the silence in short jabs. Each crack made Sara grip her shotgun a little tighter. Tooize and Kina continued to lead her on slowly, making their way through yet more passageways. Their boots clanged on the metal floors. They came to a wider part; grating covered the surface beneath their feet.
Slipping, Sara grabbed for Kina with her free hand. “It’s wet here,” Sara said. “Watch your step.” It wasn’t just wet… when Sara knelt to investigate, the pungent stench of vul blood made her gag and dry-retch.
“We must be close,” Kina said. “Looks like Jhang has recently fed.”
“That’ll make him—or her?—less likely to obliterate us, right?”
Silence didn’t comfort her. “Guys? It’s a good sign, yes?”
“No,” Tooize whistled, stopping at the end of a passageway with three exits. “It feeds once every five hundred cycles. Once it starts…”
Kina leant in. “The last time it fed, it didn’t stop until we lost an entire species. The Elgalins apparently were like sweet honey to Jhang. It came out of the dark levels and devoured an entire two levels of them over the course of a single cycle.”
Icy-cold sweat dripped down Sara’s spine. “Why are we doing this again? I mean, sure, it’s probably handy that we get Telo back, and it’s probably fantastic that it could lead us to learn more about Hollow Space, but I’m not sure that’s worth being an appetizer.”
Kina licked her lips dramatically. “Yum.”
“Not funny.”
“Hey,” Tooize said, pointing his free hand to the left-hand path. “See that?”
Sara noticed him taking off his night vision. She flicked the switch turning the world back to darkness again, but as she did, she saw a luminous billowing of orange smoke flow from the left passage.
Stepping forward to join Tooize, she felt the heat on her face and the rumble traveling up from the floor. “Oh, God, it’s coming this way.”
“Don’t look it in the eye,” Tooize said, readying the cannon. “And let me do the talking… if we get a chance.”
A deafening roar barreled down the passageway, the hot breath heating her skin. Her legs shook, and her sweaty palms slipped on the grip of the shotgun as something even darker than the dark level consumed the entire passageway.
Flicking on her night vision, she yelped and wished she hadn’t bothered.
TWENTY-TWO
Tai sweated inside his spacesuit. He and Bookworm mingled through the various alien species on the dock and approached the Mary-May as though they were going to be doing some repairs.
Tai nodded and raised his hand to a few associates, scumbags basically. When they had left the dock, leaving just a few dozen merchants and maintenance personnel, Tai pulled Bookworm into the shadow of the ship and looked backed to Scaroze, who stood by a series of rusted canisters in the middle of the dock.
The kronac leaned over them, pretending to perform some safety checks. Nothing out of the ordinary. It looked just like any day or hour on the station. Even the four Markesians who had stayed to guard their ships didn’t eye Bookworm with outward hostility anymore, having got over the lad’s surprisingly swift gun work earlier.
Tai couldn’t say the same for Bookworm, though. He had continued to give them the stink eye, and Tai couldn’t blame him. Cutting their ship in half, killing thousands of their people would do that to a person. As valid as that was to save the human race, it must still sting a little.
With the rest of the Venture crew and the Markesian hierarchy making their homes in their new quarters, Tai and Bookworm had just one opportunity to do this.
“Will this work?” Bookworm asked over the intercom lead.
“It should.”
“We should have taken more time, come up with a better plan.”
“We don’t have time,” Tai said. “Look. Sweet-Sap and the other Drifts will go into rhapsodies over the new books. Then they’ll delight in cataloging them. And then they’ll start wondering if you were lying about other books.” Tai shrugged. “We have maybe a half cycle. Just be happy it’s nighttime. And about half of it is gone now, so we have a quarter cycle to get it done.” About a quarter cycle to get those hundred thousand books moved.
A hundred thousand, and he owned half the profits.
More money than his mother’s entire clan.
“Why only a quarter cycle?”
“Less people to scare off the docks.”
“Can those kronacs you hired be trusted?”
Tai sighed. “Yes. Part of the deal Scaroze made—the expensive part—bought their silence. A kronac would, and have in the past, die rather than break a confidentiality clause.” Scaroze had hired twenty kronacs to pack up the books into large sacks. It took three hundred and thirteen sacks to bundle up all the books, and Tai could just about lift one at a struggle. So much paper, so much money.
“Now comes the hard part.”
With all the books bundled up, Tai had to get them off the ship and safely secreted away in the station. To do that he had to clear the dock long enough to get the bundles of books away.
He shook his head, all this, including the fines he would have to pay, was costing most of what he had earned retaking the Venture. At least the repairs to the Mary-May were on expenses. At least they would still be made.
“What’s in that canister?” Bookworm asked, turning back to point at the Drift-sized metal container.
“Fuel. Dodgy fuel, possibly corrosive, and definitely toxic.”
“Fuel? Rocket fuel?”
“Yup.”
“Isn’t that explosive?”
“Yes, that too.”
Bookworm laughed. “Oh, I get it. It’s not really fuel. It’s something else.”
“Nope. It’s the cheapest, nastiest fuel Scaroze could buy at such short notice. Refined by a bunch of idiots up on deck eighty-six from substandard slurry tossed away by other more credible refiners.”
Tai heard Bookworm gulp. “You could blow a hole in the station.”
“High gains, high stakes.” Tai shrugged. “It should be fine. That fuel is so bad you could probably use it as a fire extinguisher. Well, if you didn’t mind it burning your eyes out and shredding your lungs.”
Bookworm closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re a nutcase.”
“And you’re as sane as a freaking vul hyped up on gold with his eyes glowing red.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
“We’re wearing spacesuits, so we should be okay.” Tai flashed him a mischievous grin. It was stunts like this that Tai loved. High stakes, wild adventure, and potential massive reward.
“You mentioned corrosive.”
“Which is why the canister is as far away from us as possible.”
Bookworm nodded, a hint of nervousness etched on his face.
Time to act.
Tai waved to Scaroze.
The kronac accidentally damaged the canister. It started hissing, gray smoke wafting into the dock area. Scaroze whistled a panicked warning and slapped down the faceplate on his helmet. He waved his four arms frantically, indicating to the canister for the benefit of others who were still milling around, and headed to the stairways.
Most people in the docks, particularly at this time of night, were not wearing spacesuits; they bolted for the lifts or stairways. Anything to get away. And even those who were wearing suits started to run.
Perfect.
Tai counted to a hundred and then jerked his thumb. He figured they had about a half hour before somebody came to investigate, Haggard and the others being busy settling the Markesians in case their introduction stoked up an initial welcoming party from the Blackguards or the Iron Council, neither of which woul
d be happy with a new, strong faction coming into the upper levels.
***
Bookworm watched the kronacs heft four bags each and race across the dock toward a panel Tai had levered off the back wall. Algae lights gleamed dully in the dark levels beyond the hole.
“Leave it,” Tai said when Bookworm started to lift one of the heavy sacks. “You’ll only get in their way.”
Bookworm dropped the sack beside his gun cases. “What’s through there?” He pointed a thumb at the hole in the wall.
“Dark levels,” Tai said. “Places that nobody has mapped and hardly anyone goes, safest place for this sort of booty.”
“If hardly anyone goes into these dark levels, then how do you know about them?”
“I’m useful like that.” Tai pulled him to one side as the kronacs raced back across the deck, grabbed up more bags, and rushed back toward the dark levels.
“Kronacs work hard.”
“Yup. Fast, strong, and hardworking. That’s your average kronac.”
“They treated my books with”—Bookworm considered the word—“reverence.”
“Our books, and paper books are rare. To see so many…” Tai’s voice died away.
“My books,” Bookworm said. “You are getting half what they earn not half the books.”
Tai glanced at him. “Fair enough.” He leaned in until he stared into Bookworm’s eyes through the faceplates in between. “But remember that I do get half the proceeds. I like you, Dylan Meredith James, but a deal is a deal, and blood is the cost of breaking one.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Reminding you,” Tai said. “All this is costing me money. Happy to spend it, but only if I get paid.”
It didn’t take long for the kronacs to move the sacks of books through into the dark levels.
“Time to go,” Tai said.
Bookworm picked up the gun cases.
“You should probably leave them aboard the ship,” Tai said.
“I thought I could store them with the books.”
“Better not. Better if there’s nothing to connect you to the books stored along with them.”
“I thought this was a safe storage area.”
“As safe as anywhere else on Haven, but still.”
“I’ll keep my guns handy, thanks.”
“Fair enough.” Tai led Bookworm through the hole in the wall.
Scaroze was waiting on the other side, the other kronacs having already dispersed. He whistled something.
“Yeah,” Tai said. “You deal with that. You know the form. So sorry it was an accident; Tairon Cauder will pay. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, that is bad fuel, but he didn’t intend to use it himself. No, I’m not sure where he is.”
Scaroze whistled again.
“Nah,” Tai replied. “Don’t even mention Bookworm here. Let’s not get them thinking too hard.”
Scaroze laughed and left, closing up the panel behind him.
Tai took off his guns, stripped off his spacesuit, and strapped his guns back on.
Bookworm did the same.
“Here.” Tai handed him a pair of green-tinged glasses.
“What are these?”
“Night-glasses, to help you see in the dark.” Tai reached up and pressed a pad on the side of the algae light. Its soft glow died away until they were standing in pitch blackness.
Bookworm put on the glasses over his own spectacles. Instantly he could see the edges of the space they crouched within: dark shapes, angular lines, shadows where pitted holes opened in the floor. “They’re not as good as night-vision goggles.”
“NV goggles are rare, expensive, and hard to maintain in Hollow Space. These do the job well enough. The Drifts make them somehow.”
Bookworm looked at the bags of books stacked just inside the dark levels. “Are you sure this is a safe place to store them?”
“We’re not storing them here,” Tai said. “First we shift them to a place I know about one hundred meters from here. Then over the next few days we’ll move them somewhere where nobody will find them.”
“Why not use the kronacs to shift them? You said they never break a confidentiality clause.”
“Just because they haven’t doesn’t mean they won’t.”
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“I trust some people with my life. I trust other people to keep a deal. But I trust nobody that much. Everybody has a breaking point, be it greed, fear, love, or something equally stupid.”
***
He’d forgotten his name. The bloodrage ripped apart his memories. So strong, so powerful, like no bloodrage he had ever felt before. The drugs channeled his aggression as they grew his muscles, his bones, and his body. He was so strong, so powerful, but he could not remember his name. Not while gripped by the ’rage.
He was hunting. He needed food, lots of food, to fuel his bigger body, but that was not why he was hunting. Somebody had killed his leader, and he had to find them. But the bloodrage made his mind skip. He found himself in places with no recollection of how he got there.
These were the dark levels. What was he doing in the dark levels?
What was his name?
He couldn’t remember. A scent in the air. Human sweat. He had to kill a human. A human had killed his leader. Was it the same human? He could not tell; the bloodrage had ripped apart his memories. When the ’rage passed, then he would remember, but right now…
He hungered.
***
Bookworm handed the last bag of books down to Tai. The sweat was pouring off him after lugging the heavy bags through the twisting corridors and then lowering them through a trapdoor into a large empty space. His arms and back ached at the unfamiliar labor, but he had made sure to memorize the route.
He didn’t trust Tai any more than Tai trusted anybody else. How could the man live like that? Always looking for the angle. Always judging people. Always worrying that he would be betrayed.
What kind of life was that?
The same life that Bookworm had lived in the Crown Colonies, he supposed, looking back on it. Knowing that the political system was corrupt. Knowing that the secret police would come knocking if he ever revealed what he knew. Never trusting anybody, playing the fool, always judging people and finding them wanting.
He hated all that shit. But it seemed he was in the same shit here only with a different stench upon it. Here on Haven everybody was free. Free to be cheated. Free to be killed. Free to make their own mistakes and face the consequences.
Bookworm licked his dry lips and lifted the water bottle Tai had provided. This place was a barely controlled anarchy. They had built their social system on deals and nothing else. Was there any room for love, honor, or friendship here?
Well, Tai had friends, didn’t he? That cute girl Kina, the kronacs, and his crew. But they were his crew. Were they friends or just people who threw their lot in together and would split apart as easily if the circumstances required it?
He pondered the question as Tai closed up the trapdoor.
Which was better? Anarchic freedom based on keeping your word or safe security based on keeping quiet?
Bookworm realized he disliked the latter a great deal more than the former. He handed the bottle to Tai. “You know. I think I’m going to like it here.”
“Better than the Crown.” Tai took a long drink of water.
“Damn straight.”
Something growled in the dark.
***
Tai let the water bottle fall and drew his Dorian before the bottle hit the deck.
“What the hell is that?” Bookworm said, spinning around. There was a dry click as he pulled back the hammer on the large-bore revolver he had drawn. He crouched in the dark, his gaze flickering around the corridor behind his night-glasses.
“Don’t know,” Tai said. It sounded like a vul, but the growl was deeper and angrier than any vul he had ever heard.
Another growl, which sounded much closer.
/> Tai placed his hand on Bookworm’s shoulder. The man turned to him. No fear in those eyes, just caution. Tai raised a finger to his lips. Bookworm nodded. No need to give away their position by yakking. Tai pointed to a side corridor.
Bookworm nodded. He handed one of the gun cases to Tai and picked up the other.
Slowly, they eased to their feet. Tai moved first. He didn’t look at the floor. He let his feet slide across the surface, pushing any objects that might make a noise out of the way before placing the foot, shifting his weight, and then repeating the procedure. He kept his focus on the dark and his ears open for even the slightest sound. His gun was cocked and ready in his hand.
Bookworm moved with equal silence behind him. The man had skills.
Tai knew there was a stairway only twenty meters away down the corridor. It led down nearly thirty levels before it opened onto another deck. A long way down, but there were bulkhead doors that could be closed to block any pursuit.
All they had to do was get there.
The growling circled ahead of them. Tai froze. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t tracking them by sound.
Freck.
A pair of red eyes glowed in the darkness. Vul eyes, but huge and red and filled with bloodrage.
“Hey now,” Tai called. “We’ve got no problem with you.” He hoped this monstrosity wasn’t related to the vuls he had killed on the Venture. “We’re just passing through. No need for this to get messy.” Even in the midst of bloodrage, vuls could be reasoned with, so long as you were not the cause of it. “Just pass on by, and we’ll do the same.”
A bass growl answered him. “Hungry.”
“We ain’t your enemy.”
“Hungry.” The eyes skulked closer.
Tai took a deep breath and lifted his Dorian, aiming directly in between the beast’s eyes. It was never a good idea to point a gun at a vul in the grip of a rage unless you intended to shoot the git, of course. “There’s no need for—”
The creature charged forward at an unbelievable speed. Tai fired but knew he would miss. Even as he squeezed the trigger, he was dropping toward the deck, kicking Bookworm’s feet out from under him as he dropped.