by M. R. Forbes
“I don’t think the Nephilim have a parallel to the Galnet,” Abbey said. “They’ve spent the last whoever knows how many years at war with one another. Besides, this way they get to test the merchandise.”
“I don’t like the way you just said that.”
“Stop being such a baby. If you expect this to be a comfortable experience, I’m pretty sure it won’t. But it has to be done.”
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever wished I was Gant.”
“Gant is working with Keeper on resource allocation and acquisition. Does that sound more exciting to you?”
“I’m not sure what that means, but yes.”
“You can’t stop bitching, can you?”
“Sorry, Queenie. I complain when I’m nervous. I talk when I’m excited. Imagine how annoying I am when I’m both at the same time.”
“I’ve already heard the stories about your father the botanist.”
Bastion laughed. “I haven’t told you that much about my mother yet.”
“Was she a botanist.”
“No.”
“Best news I’ve heard today.”
“She was an entomologist.”
“Another scientist?”
“Yeah.”
“And they wound up with a drop jock?”
“I know, right?”
“I think bugs are more interesting than plants.”
“So did my mom. She wrote her dissertation on Plixian mating cycles.”
“I have a feeling we’re getting into the realm of too much information.”
“Tell me about it. Thanks to her, I have way too intimate knowledge of how Plixians do the dirty deed.”
“Just don’t tell me the females eat the males afterward.”
“Nah. They’re more advanced than that. But did you know male Plixians have three penises? Well, it’s only one penis, but it separates into three heads, and when they aren’t mating it sits behind a piece of hard shell called a-”
“Too much information,” Abbey said, laughing.
Bastion laughed with her.
“You two are having a good time, considering the smell back here,” Phlenel said, her bot trailing her into the space.
“Can you even smell anything?” Bastion asked. “You don’t have a nose.”
Phlenel had taken a generic humanoid form with only minimal definition, an effect that would have been unsettling if Abbey hadn’t become so used to her.
“Each of my cells has an olfactory receptor,” Phlenel said.
“You mean you smell with your entire body?”
“Yes. I can also breathe, eat, and mate with every mature cell.”
“Mate?” Abbey said. She glanced at Bastion. “Your mother would have been incredibly interested in that.”
“Let’s not ever bring you back to Earth,” Bastion replied. “How can you mate with a single cell? I mean, I know they say size doesn’t matter, but-”
“With other Hurshin,” Phlenel said. “We reproduce by joining cells. In this way, all of our knowledge is carried from one generation to the next.”
“How do you fit your entire history in a single cell?”
“A single chain of our DNA can hold over one million petabytes of data. We are barely using five percent of that. Though I will admit, our knowledge base has increased exponentially since the Terrans arrived on our planet.”
“That’s a lot of data.”
“It is. Which reminds me, I should return home once we have completed our mission so that I can share what I have experienced. It will make an excellent addition to the collective.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Abbey said. “Completing the mission, I mean.”
“Me, too,” Bastion said.
“I’ll be prepared for your signal, Queenie,” Phlenel said.
“Hopefully we won’t need you,” Abbey replied. “But I’m glad to have you along.”
“I’m happy to help.”
Abbey looked at Bastion again. She could tell he knew what she was thinking.
“I’m happy to help,” he mimicked. “Fine. I can talk about my mother, or I can shut up and sit in the corner.”
“Can you talk about your mother without mentioning how bugs have sex?” Abbey asked.
He stared at her a moment. Then he smirked and retreated to the corner.
“Wake me up when we get there,” he said.
26
“Wake up, flyboy,” Abbey said, leaning over Bastion and whispering in his ear.
His eyes opened, and his head turned slightly, only inches from hers. “Am I still dreaming?”
She grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Time to go.”
“I’ve got the chains waiting,” Pik said from the other side of the cell. He held out the thick manacles the slavers used to bind their wares together.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” Bastion said, wiping the grogginess off his face.
“I probably won’t get another chance to play a Nephilim slaver in my lifetime. I intend to live it to the fullest.”
“Don’t live it too fully,” Abbey said. “We aren’t really slaves.”
Pik laughed. “I know. I assume you can break out of these things?”
Abbey nodded. “Easily. Open the cell.”
Pik did as she said, letting them out. Then he put the chains around their necks, squeezing them closed with his mechanical hand.
“This is pretty fragging primitive, too,” Bastion said, grabbing the chain and shaking it. “I’d rather have a shock collar.”
“That wouldn’t be anywhere near as demeaning,” Abbey said. “The Apostants want you broken and subservient.”
“Good point.”
“Okay, you’re in charge from here. Follow Helk’s lead.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Pik said. “Don’t worry; I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“I know.”
Pik smiled, and then turned and started walking toward the front of the ship. He made sure to keep a little bit of slack on the chains.
“Don’t be afraid to tug a little,” Abbey said. “We don’t want to look suspicious.”
“Roger,” he replied.
Helk, Phlenel, and Ruby were waiting for them at the ladder to the lower deck.
“Be careful out there, Queenie,” Ruby said.
“I will. You know what to do if anyone tries to board the ship?”
“I don’t think it will be a problem, but yes,” Ruby said. “We’re only one of nearly two hundred slave ships here, and there were eight larger ships orbiting the planet.”
“They belong to the nobles,” Helk said. “It’s a solid turnout. You may need to pay extra to get a good spot in the market.”
“Can we afford it?”
Pik held out a stack of paper. It had been hard for them to believe the Nephilim still used physical currency, at least in the slave markets.
“This is everything we found on board. Keeper is making more, but we didn’t have time to wait for it.”
“We’ll do our best with what we’ve got.”
“You’re both in excellent physical condition, which will help,” Helk said. “Most human slaves for sale are at the other end of their cycle of usefulness.”
“They won’t question why we’re being sold?”
“Some might, but it’s not unreasonable for you to be surplus, or even stolen.”
“Lovely universe you’ve got here,” Bastion said.
“Which is exactly what we don’t want the Republic to become,” Abbey said.
“Good luck to you all,” Helk said.
Pik descended first, going slowly enough that they could stay grouped without getting choked. Then he led them from the starship, out into the midst of a number of beaten and worn spacecraft of various ages and designs.
“This looks like a Republic junkyard,” Bastion said, looking at the ships.
“Stop talking,” Abbey replied.
There was another g
roup of slavers coming out of another, larger ship, trailing at least one hundred slaves. Most were human, though there were a few Lalians and a pair of some other species she had never seen before. They were incredibly thin, with green, leathery flesh and angled faces.
“Skellins,” Pik said, receiving the intel from Helk. “Rare to see in bondage.”
The three Executioners at the head of the line glanced over at them, and then back at the Carrion. One turned to another, and then all of them laughed, probably because they only had two slaves for sale, or maybe because their ship was smaller and more battered. Or probably both.
Abbey didn’t need anyone to tell her to ignore them. She shouldn’t have been looking in the first place.
She cursed under her breath when one of them broke away from the others, storming toward them.
“Who gave you permission to look at me?” the Executioner bellowed. He was easily a meter taller than Pik, and probably nearly twice his weight.
“These are my slaves,” Pik roared back, positioning himself in front of them. “Mind your business, pelluk.”
Pelluk?
The word seemed to enrage the slaver even more. He lunged at Pik, who let go of the chains long enough to sidestep the Executioner, grab his arm with his mechanical hand, and exert enough force to break the dense bone.
The slaver grunted in pain, and Abbey looked back to see if the others were coming to aid him. They weren’t. In fact, they had continued as though they were disowning the whole episode.
“Get out of my sight,” Pik said, kicking the Executioner in the side of the leg.
He clutched at his arm, angry and embarrassed, but he straightened up and walked away. Pik quickly grabbed the chain again, before anyone noticed he had let it go.
“That was interesting,” Bastion said.
“Shh,” Abbey replied. “Keep your head down.”
Bastion lowered his head. Pik started them forward again without another word.
They reached the market after a short walk, entering through a large, open metal gate that connected to a wall too high for any slave to climb over. There was more noise inside, where not only Apostants roamed but other slavers as well, seeking to buy low and sell high, or meet a specific demand in another part of the Extant. They came to a stop at a small checkpoint near the gate, manned by a crisply dressed Nephilim.
“Only two?” he said, glancing at Abbey and Bastion.
“Yeah,” Pik replied. “They come as a pair. Good stock, though. Feeding, breeding, whatever.” He forced a laugh.
“I can see that. Where did you get them?”
“None of your business, my Lord,” Pik replied. Then he leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “Picked them up from a rival who had grabbed them from Shardspace. As I said, they’re quality.”
The Apostant looked them over with increased interest. “I can save you the trouble of paying to enter the markets,” he said. “My Master would have a definite interest in that one.” He pointed at Bastion, who groaned softly to be picked out. “Why do they come together?”
“I only have the two; I’m not going through the trouble of bartering them both. Besides, they’ll fetch a higher price if one of the masters is looking for a breeding pair.”
Bastion glanced over at that comment. Breeding pair? Nobody had mentioned that the Prophets bought slaves to have them produce more slaves.
“Very well. How much?”
“Two hundred,” Pik said after a brief hesitation. Helk was doing all of the talking; he was just serving as a mouthpiece.
“That’s insanity.”
“How many slaves pass through these gates every day, my Lord?” Pik said.
“At least a thousand,” Gater said.
“How many are first generation Sharders?”
“Not even one each day.”
“But you think two hundred is too much for a pair?”
He hesitated, caught by his own admission. “Bring them around to the back.”
Pik did as the Apostant asked, guiding them past the Gatekeeper's guards and into a room behind the main checkpoint area.
“He’s going to examine you,” Pik said softly.
“Examine how?” Bastion asked.
“You’ll be asked to undress.”
Bastion looked over at Abbey. “How is this a good idea, again?”
“We need to find out which Prophet the Gatekeeper is buying for,” Abbey said, ignoring him. “If it won’t get us closer to Rezel then you need to raise the price until he won’t pay.”
“That might not be possible,” Pik said. His face blanched. “You would be risking execution to renege on an offer.”
“Frag,” Bastion said.
They all grew silent when the door opened, and the Gatekeeper entered the room. He eyed Bastion first, walking over to him. “Take off your clothes.”
Bastion glanced at Abbey again. Then he started to undress, all the way down to his underwear.
“Very nice,” the Apostant said. “All of it.”
Bastion’s expression was flat as he took off the rest of his clothes. The Gatekeeper’s eyes settled on his groin. “Yes, he’ll be pleased.”
“Who will?” Pik asked.
“My Master, the Prophet Tega. He’s been looking for a Sharder stud to give to his daughter.”
Tega’s lands bordered Rezel’s. Getting inside the Prophet’s palace wasn’t a bad way to go. And at least the Gatekeeper had mentioned wanting Bastion for the Prophet’s child, not the Prophet himself.
“Can I put my clothes back on now?” Bastion asked.
The Gatekeeper slapped him before any of them could move, the sound echoing in the room. “Silence!”
Bastion’s head whipped back, eyes full of anger. Pik yanked on the chain, pulling him onto his back.
“You don’t speak unless told to speak,” Pik said. He looked pained to have to treat Bastion that way.
Bastion stayed down. Abbey could only imagine how he felt. It was her fault he was in this position.
“I’ll give you two hundred for him,” the Gatekeeper said. “I have no use for that one. You can do whatever you want with her. Sell her in the market and make a greater profit.”
Pik looked stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Well? Do we have a deal, Lesser?”
Pik’s eyes turned to Abbey. He was confused. Lost.
“Why are you looking at her?” the Gatekeeper asked.
“Sorry, Queenie,” Pik said. “I can’t do it.”
Then he threw his metal fist at the Apostant.
Abbey felt the Gift explode out of the Nephilim, his hands darting out and catching the punch, countering it and sending the energy back up Pik’s arm. He was thrown backward, knocked to the floor.
The Gatekeeper didn’t hesitate, his hands suddenly burning with flame. “You dare to attack me, Lesser?”
Abbey drew on her Gift, pushing it out in counter to the Gatekeeper, sending it between him and Pik. The flames launched from his hands, only to flare out halfway to the target.
His eyes darted to her in surprise, at the same time the chain exploded from her neck. She caught the shards of metal before they could spread apart, using her Gift to redirect them toward the Apostant.
He put his hand up, catching them between them.
“Who are you?” he asked, eyes angry and confused.
“A slave you shouldn’t have fragged with,” she replied.
She could feel his Gift trying to counter hers. Compared to Thraven, he was a worm. She pushed back, the shards blasting through his shields and burying themselves deep into his body. He fell to the ground, and she jumped on top of him, fingertips extending into claws. One quick slash and her hand dug through his neck, severing his head.
“Damn it, Okay,” she said, getting back to her feet. Pik looked dazed.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I couldn’t watch them treat him that way. It was like being back in the S
quad. You told me I didn’t have to be that individual anymore.”
She had told him that, and she had meant it. This whole thing was about to go seriously sideways, but her anger faded.
“Helk, what the frag do we do now?” she asked, at the same time she moved to Bastion’s side. He was on his feet, reaching for his clothes.
“The Prophet will know he lost one of his Gifted,” Pik said. “The guards will be coming. Get back to the Carrion.” He paused. “Pudding wants to know if she should drop in.”
“Absolutely,” she said, thinking. “We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. We might as well do.”
“Do what?” Bastion asked.
“It’s fragging time,” Abbey replied.
27
“You can’t be serious,” Pik said.
“I hope that you’re still parroting Helk?” she said.
He smiled. “I’m ready to kill some slaver assholes.” He put up his hand, pausing while Helk spoke to him. “Queenie, the entire market is thick with Apostants who won’t put up with any kind of uprising. Gifted Apostants.”
“Frag them, too,” Abbey said. “There are a thousand slaves in the market. If we can get them to fight-”
“They won’t fight. You’ll see.”
“A thousand slaves. Two hundred ships. If Plan A isn’t going to work, I call that a damn good Plan B.”
“Except for the part where we take on dozens of Nephilim by ourselves,” Bastion said, throwing his shirt back on. “And I don’t even have a suit.”
The door to the room opened. A squad of armed guards stood behind it.
“I think we’re already committed,” Abbey said, throwing the Gift out at them.
They were hit hard by the invisible force, thrown back and away before they could attack. Pik charged toward them, his anger at the Gatekeeper’s treatment of Bastion fueling his assault.
Abbey was right behind him. She kept her fingers extended, and she tore through the guards like they were paper dolls, ripping right through their bone and sinew and cutting them apart.
It was over in an instant.
Abbey felt a cold burning from the Hell brand on her neck, the Light of the Shard registering its disapproval of her methods. It wanted everything from her. To be its champion. To follow its desires. To unify through what? Words? There had been no words the Covenant could offer her. No words the Shard or the Light or the One could give her to make the Nephilim see a new, old truth.