She wiped her face as well as she could on her filthy sleeve, then turned and, after a moment to gather her courage, clambered up onto the pipes again.
They’re not getting me down. She clamped her mouth shut, ignoring the ache of her scraped back.
“And behave, damn you!” she muttered at the huurpat and shoved it into the next clogged pipe. The choke-fish gave another warning squeeze as Elke watched the huurpat swallow its way into the pipe, and she forced herself into calm again.
Just think how much worse it must be for Kiran. At least I’m not sick.
She would get through this day, and the next. She would find Noor and get them all back to the Babylon Eye.
¤¤¤
At last, the day came to an end. The overseers broke up their chat and called the slaves off the pipes.
Elke was lightheaded with hunger and sore all over. After uncoiling the choke-fish from their throats, the overseers led the slaves up to the harbour. Here Elke and the others took turns with a bucket, sluicing water over themselves. The water was cold but it felt good and washed away the worst of the dirt and grime.
Her cramps were back and she could no longer deny that they were period pains. A surreptitious check showed that there were no visible bloodstains on her trousers yet, but it was only a matter of time.
The slave-court was in twilight by the time Elke’s group reached it. People were getting ready for the night, lighting fires, spreading blankets, and washing at the water troughs. At the far side of the courtyard, a queue had formed for the paper-wrapped parcels of bisc.
Elke pushed her way through the crowd, heading for the can-stack, but before she got far, she had to stop. People were scattering out of the way of a team of workers who were dragging a low-slung trolley across the courtyard.
On the trolley was a thing like an enormous slug, translucent, wedge-shaped, and with no discernible head. It was about two metres tall, five metres long, and obviously heavy.
A woman walked alongside, one hand on the slug-thing’s flank. She shouted a command, and the workers brought the thing to rest next to one of the water troughs.
The slug-thing had no visible external organs, no eyes, or nose, or mouth, and yet it seemed to sense the proximity of water. Its grainy flesh budded into tubes that rapidly extended, feeling unerringly for the trough. Soon several root-like protrusions had slithered into the water and Elke, who’d moved as close as the crowd allowed, thought she could hear the creature give off a contented, purring grumble.
The supervisor began slapping the slug-thing’s firm flesh, placing a dermal patch with each slap. A gasp, and then a laugh went up from the gathered slaves as the creature began to transform in response to this treatment.
A collar of filaments lifted from its skin, first one row, and then another, each fanning into something like a peacock’s tail. Its slug body spasmed, convulsed, and then settled down to a steady pulse, the fanned filaments trembling rhythmically. A clean, earthy scent filled the air, the scent of soil responding to the first drops of rain.
A cheer rose from the gathered slaves.
“Well, what do you know,” Kiran said from close beside her, and Elke started in surprise.
“Hey.” Elke turned to greet her friend, and her smile faded. “Shit. You feeling all right?”
Kiran’s face was grey-tinged, her lips pale.
“I’m fine.” Kiran was still looking at the slug-thing, whose fringes pulsed and waved gently in the evening air. “Know what that is?”
“No idea.” Elke took in Kiran’s posture, the way she cradled her arm. “Your arm hurting you?”
“It’s an air filter.” Kiran never took her eyes off the slug-thing. “Seems that human gas-bomb yesterday woke somebody up to the fact that they could have lost a lot of valuable slaves.”
“Air filter?” Elke looked at the slug with new respect. “Can it really protect us against cut-gas?”
“Probably not if you’re standing right next to a gas-bomb,” said Kiran. “But it should save the rest of us.” Her eyes were fever-bright.
“You don’t look so good,” said Elke.
Kiran shrugged irritably. “I’m fine.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the can-stack. “Can’t say the same for Mell. She had a rough day. Betina never came back with her, and Mell doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Shit.” Elke gritted her teeth. She hated feeling this helpless. “This hellish place.” Her hand went to her throat, half expecting to feel the choke-fish tightening, but of course it had been removed.
“I know,” said Kiran. “Want to help me carry?”
Elke looked at the food queue, which had grown long and rowdy, with much shoving and elbowing.
“Listen, why don’t you let me do it? You can go back and lie down a bit.”
Kiran’s jaw took on a mulish tilt.
“Look.” Elke touched Kiran’s arm. “You don’t want to draw attention, do you? You look—well, you look like shit, right now.”
“Always so diplomatic.” Kiran shivered. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll go back inside.” She turned abruptly and walked back to the can-stack.
Elke went to join the queue. At least it was moving quickly, a good thing, because her feet hurt and the cramps were back again, worse than ever. She let herself be moved along, shuffling forward as the queue progressed. The people behind her in the line were talkative and kept bumping her as they laughed and joked.
It took Elke several minutes to realise that she could understand what they were saying. Three young women, all in white overalls with face-masks tied loosely around their necks. They were unmistakably from the Real and spoke with a Northern States accent.
“Hey,” Elke said to the nearest. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s your problem?” The woman eyed Elke up and down. “Who you, anyways?”
“Hey there.” Elke tried her best, non-threatening smile, “I’m new here, and uh— Where do you get, you know, pads? Menstrual pads?”
The woman looked blank for a moment, then understood. “Oh! You mean stuff for your monthlies?” She pulled a sympathetic face. “Jeez. That sucks. Listen, when you get to the front, there’s a medic. See her? That one in green.”
Elke saw the woman she meant—a skinny glim with silver hair, dressed in a dark green tunic.
“You ask her,” said the woman. “She’ll sort you out.”
“Okay, thanks. I appreciate it.”
When Elke got to the front, the man handing out the bisc initially refused to give her more than one package but mentioning Nehi made him change his mind.
The queue for the medic was shorter, and most people seemed to be collecting pills and vials that had been prepared for them. When Elke’s turn came, she suddenly wondered what language the medic would speak.
“Ah— Hello,” she said, as the woman turned her tired gaze on her. “Do you have pads? For monthlies?”
To her relief, the woman just nodded and bent to her pack of supplies. After a little digging, she found what she was looking for. “Rags,” the medic said in a husky voice. “But rags are better than nothing, not?”
“Yes, they are.” Elke took the packet, and then hesitated. This was her chance to get help for Kiran, but she needed to do so without exposing her to danger.
“Do you have anything for—” She grimaced and put a hand on her stomach. The medic bent to her pack again. “For pain.” She pressed a strip of vials into Elke’s hand. Her eyes narrowed and she looked Elke up and down. “You’re new. You sick?”
“No, just sore. Period pain.”
“Hmm.” The medic looked unconvinced. “Tongue.”
Elke stuck out her tongue for the medic’s examination. Apparently satisfied with that, she took hold of Elke’s jaw, produced the smallest, brightest colltorch Elke had ever seen, and shone it into her eyes and nose. She ran her fingers down Elke’s arms, felt her pulse, and peered at her fingernails, all the while grumbling and muttering to herself. Elke tried
her best to stay relaxed through this unexpected examination.
At last, the medic seemed satisfied. She slipped the colltorch back into her pocket. “You new.” She hooked a finger under Elke’s arm band and studied the number. “Hmm. Stay here.”
To Elke’s growing alarm, the medic ambled over to food table. After a brief consultation, the man gave her a scroll, which the medic unfurled and scanned, muttering all the while as she slowly returned to where Elke was waiting.
Soon, she found what she was looking for. “Veraart!” She gave a sharp nod, and pinned Elke with a seeing look. “Elke Veraart. And you came in with others like you. Where are they?”
“Uh—” Elke stared at the medic, at a loss. “Back, um, over there?” She gestured vaguely into the courtyard.
“And they send you for medication, because they are sick and do not wish to be examined?” The medic rolled up the scroll as she regarded Elke narrowly.
“No! It’s not like that.” Elke’s thoughts raced. This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. How had she gotten into this mess? “I mean, we’re all a bit bruised after our first day and all, but nobody’s actually sick.”
“Hmm.” The medic looked unconvinced. “I can’t come look now, but I make remembrance of your number. I make it here.” She tapped her forehead. “I go write it up where other medics can see, so we keep an eye on you, and on your friends.”
Elke nodded numbly, feeling sick.
“Then we know if you bringing any illness into the Carsera.” The medic tucked the rolled-up scroll into her pocket. “Any symptoms, you report. Otherwise overseers will punish you as well as be sick, understand?”
Elke didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded again.
The medic gave her one last, doubting look, then waved her off.
All the way back across the courtyard, Elke cursed herself under her breath. How could she have been so careless? She’d tried to get some pain medication for Kiran, but instead, she’d done exactly what Kiran had hoped to avoid— drawn official attention to their situation. Elke had no doubt that Kiran was correct in her assessment of the kind of treatment she would get, if anyone found out that she was sick.
Back in the can-stack, she found Kiran completely submerged in the water trough. It was a disconcerting sight. So many skritti had gathered to her that she was almost completely hidden in a swirling silver cloud.
Other people were out there too, pugio, from the look of them, but they studiously ignored both Kiran and Elke.
After double checking that Kiran was, in fact, still breathing—only the slight undulations of her gills showed she was alive—Elke went to the latrine, and fashioned one of the rags the medic had given her into something like a sanitary pad.
That done, and with another glance at the submerged Kiran, she climbed up through the can-stack. The place was full of pugios, none of them familiar, but they apparently accepted Elke’s presence.
Up on the roof she found Mell trying to spear some of the rat-creatures with a knife. Mell glanced up at Elke’s greeting, but responded to her attempts at conversations with grunts and one-word answers.
Elke decided to leave her alone and set to work getting the fire started. By the time Kiran came up through the hatch, she’d got a good blaze going, found the griddle, and balanced it on some stones. A piece of bisc was browning there, smelling surprisingly good.
“You look better.”
Kiran’s colour was back to normal, and her eyes had lost that feverish glitter.
“Water treatment.” Kiran crouched next to the fire. “Never fails.” She held her hands out to the blaze.
“Hey, Mell, want some bisc?”
Mell gave up on trying to kill a rat and came to join them at the fire. For a while the three of them concentrated on toasting and eating bits of bisc. Mell kept her eyes downcast and didn’t speak at all. At last she said that she was going to bed and got up and left.
As soon as Mell was out of earshot, Elke held out one of the tiny vials the medic had given her.
“I got you some pain medication.”
Kiran took a vial. “What’s this? How did you get it?” She held it up to the fading light.
Elke flushed slightly. “I told them I have period cramps.”
“Oh?” Kiran laughed, then put out a sympathetic hand. “And you weren’t lying, were you? You really have cramps?”
“Well, yes, actually.” Elke shrugged. “But not so bad that I need this. You think it’ll help?”
“It might, actually. Thanks.” Kiran took the rest of the vials and slipped them into a pocket. “Damn. You got your period now?”
Elke gave a wry smile. “Just my luck, but the medic gave me some rags for pads, so I’m sorted.”
“You spoke to a medic.”
Kiran’s voice was neutral, but Elke felt the edge of it all the same. “Uh huh.” She bent forward, covering her confusion by poking the fire into life again. “You going to use that stuff?”
Kiran studied Elke, a small frown-line between her brows. “I’ll take some tomorrow. It might help me disguise the symptoms. Thanks.” Then she smiled. “Clever of you. My arm was hurting quite a bit, actually. The skritti help, but I can’t always get to the water trough.”
Elke concentrated on toasting the last few pieces of bisc. “Do you know what happened to Betina? You think she might still show up?”
“Who knows?” Kiran’s expression was grim. “From what Mell told me I think the two of them were made to do some kind of combat training. That’s where she got that knife. And you?” Kiran took a piece of bisc from the griddle and blew on it to cool it down. “How did you spend the day?”
“Mostly fixing pumps. In the harbour. I think I saw you there.”
Kiran nodded. “Yes, you might have. They have a huge aquaponics setup down there. I’ve been cleaning tanks all day.” She eyed Elke. “I’d ask what you found out, but I’m guessing not much, since you don’t speak the language?”
“You’re right. I mostly kept my head down. Did you hear something useful?”
Kiran swallowed the morsel of bisc she’d been chewing. “Yes. They use quite a lot of trade-talk between themselves. I was able to pick up quite a bit.” She wiped her mouth. “Mostly odds and ends. Gossip, stories about Trench. Popular guy. I got some of the lab technicians talking. I asked about oorschot. That’s what they call people who’re sorted as defective.” She poked a stick at the edge of the fire, drawing curly lines in the ashes.
“Did you find anything?” Elke prompted when Kiran did not continue.
Kiran shrugged. “Difficult to sort the scare-stories from the truth, but what I heard confirms what the pugios told us. Anyone they think they can’t use, or who might give too much trouble is brain-wiped or stripped for parts. I tried to find out where we could start looking, if we ever get the chance, but it’s tough to ask that kind of thing without drawing attention.”
She wiped away the pattern in the ashes and threw the stick into the fire.
“Did you see those mere-people?” Elke asked. “In the harbour?”
“I did!” Kiran sat up a little. “How cool are they? The kupda menha.” She grinned. “That’s what they call themselves. The joke doesn’t really translate, but it’s something like ‘the loving teeth’. They make me look like an amateur.”
She stretched her hand out so that the firelight shone pinkly through the webs between her fingers.
“I used to think my mods were the height of bio-hacking, but some of those guys are hardcore. I wish Noor could see them. They’d make her forget the Marine Guard in a hurry.”
Elke couldn’t help smiling. “You’re right. Noor would love them. They didn’t seem very popular with the other harbour workers, though.”
“I found out about that,” said Kiran. “Apparently there are cargo ships that come along the sea-side here but can’t get close to the harbour. The menha are contracted to get cargo to and from those ships. Apparently, they’re fantastic
sailors.”
“I saw some of the ships,” said Elke. “But the menha I saw weren’t doing any work at all. They were just lounging about.”
“That’s right. And this is where it gets interesting, from our point of view. It’s all because of this war.”
Kiran picked a piece of burnt-on bisc from the griddle.
“Apparently, the menha traditionally transport everything, except for slaves. They’ve always refused to have anything to do with the slave trade. That’s why slaves come to the Carsera by land. By train, like we did.
“But now with this coming siege, armies will be blockading everything. The trains are no good anymore. Trench and this coalition government of his apparently asked the menha to help get slaves out to the ships. They refused. And, listen to this—” Kiran smiled wickedly, “the menha said that as long as Trench uses slaves as part of the war-effort, they won’t do anything for the Carsera at all. Not even the regular stuff they used to transport. No messages either. No mail.
“So, Trench is stuck. He can still get things in and out of the harbour using non-menha sailors, but it’s much less efficient. They’ve lost several cargoes, with boats mysteriously getting lost, or sinking for no reason.”
“I like the sound of that,” said Elke. “Might be worth making friends with some of these menha.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Kiran upended the griddle and swept the last of the crumbs into the fire. “Thing is, it’s a pretty tense situation. People are starting to say that the menha might be enemy agents or accusing them of sabotage. Anything might happen, so whatever we do, we better tread lightly. It’s worth knowing, though, isn’t it?”
“It is!” Elke wrapped her arms around her knees and smiled at Kiran. “You make a pretty impressive spy.”
Kiran returned the smile, but when she spoke again her voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Listen. Can I ask you a favour?”
“Sure.”
“Could you just look at my ears?” Kiran glanced uncertainly at Elke. “I want to know if there’s any of that stuff in there. You know—” She patted her arm. “Some of these growths. I’m worried they might be spreading.”
The Strange Page 31