by C M Weller
His Sahra? Since when did he claim ownership on anyone?
He was getting better. He hardly needed her to find food. And yet he stayed.
Because she was the only being to voluntarily hold him. Who viewed him with affection. Who was glad to see him. ...who loved him.
That would change the instant she knew who he was. If she ever found out he was the harsh task-master Eon... He would be alone again. And worse than the early days of his existence, because now he knew what companionship was like.
There were thousands of slaves on the station. Few were even likely still alive who could recognize him in his liquid state, let alone when he was pretending to be a Moshikaan slime dog. Paranoia about the unlikely was not going to serve him well.
Serving Sahra, on the other hand... that was oddly rewarding.
*
The one note was fading away. That was good. On the other hand, it had now been joined by a buzzing hiss like static on the info-station. That was bad. She could at least hear herself. Sort of. There was still a lot of womping, but she could hear a lot more, now.
She knew better than to talk around Sir and C. Or even the humans they owned. Except Teo. Teo was her friend.
Sahra practiced alone, as quiet as she could manage, in the half-light of the old ore processing place with Simy. Just as she tried to figure out how to build new things out of old things.
Not many of them worked. The blowed-up bits nearby weren't always good. Some looked okay, but didn't do anything. Others looked toasted, but worked fine. Some actually looked good and worked. Some only had little parts that worked. The working was the important part. Sahra put the actually-toasted bits into her treasure pile. Just in case she ever got back to proper real work instead of being a doll.
There had to be a way of testing them.
Sahra did other important things while the masters were out, like telling Mama about the people she found. She even found Kera Matherson in the hospital for humans. She was all burned up and bandaged and couldn't hear or see Sahra.
Lots of humans were burned or broken and in that hospital. It still smelled of smoke. The smoke that came from burned people.
She hadn't heard much from the rebels after she told them off. Apart from that one mission to show them where the lunch room was. She went with Simy to the node every other day. Checked the hiding places behind the panels.
There was no sign.
Until the day after C got Sahra 'retouched', when she found a single rebel in the node, inspecting panels and hidey-holes. She knew he was a rebel because he had sleeves. And the same kind of funny vest thing.
He looked up at her and she looked down at him.
He had a wide, square sort of face, but all his features were kind of squashed together in the middle, as if they were scared to go away from each other. He also had a shock of orange curls, but his didn't need new dye.
His own eyes darted from Sahra's henna spots to her bright, fresh-coloured hair, to the working sheath she wore. "Eva told me about you," he said, very careful to make his mouth move. "I'm hard o' hearing myself, so I understand. Everyone calls me Smiley." He offered his hand.
Sahra got down enough to shake it. "There was a man with Eva th' first time I met 'er. What'd I call him?"
"Juliet," Smiley said with a straight face. "But his name's Julian."
Sahra nodded. "Awright, you one of them."
"My real name's Marlow."
"Sahra." He only had a small box with him. "I aksed fo' a rechargur. That box ain't big 'nuff."
"No. They couldn't get one. So they sent me along to fix the old one."
"Dunno," Sahra made a face. "'S pretty busted up."
"Yeah? What happened to it."
"Tried hookin' it up an' it caught fahr."
Smiley nodded. "Lead the way, then. I'll follow."
Sahra liked Smiley. Even though he never smiled, he was a friendly man. And though he looked nothing like any of her Papa's, he felt... fatherly. Like he was sort of looking out for her. And he never talked to her like she was a baby.
She took him the easy way in, and almost ran to the old recharger, pulled to bits and all the working and sort-of-working bits all around it like bits of a puzzle.
Smiley sat down and strapped a light to his head. "You've done a lot to this."
Sahra shrugged. "Didn't mess wif th' insides 'till it burned. Tried to figure what went wrong."
Simy got off her leg and climbed into her lap. He was getting big, but Sahra didn't mind. He was never too heavy.
"Hello..." said Smiley. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Simy. He's a mo-she-can slime dog. But I call't him a moosh puppy 'cause it's too hard t' say."
"You found him here?"
"Yeah...?"
Smiley's small eyes got as wide as they could. He kept working. "And he hasn't done anything... mean?"
"No. Why would he? I'm a good trainer."
"An 'e doesn't talk."
Sahra laughed. "Why would he? Moosh-dogs can't talk."
"Yeah. They can't." Smiley kept twiddling with tools and bits. "I used t' know the old overseer who was in here. Went by the name of Eon."
Sahra hugged Simy and scrunched in on herself. "I heard stories 'bout him. Scary stories. But you rebels blowed him up."
"Yeah. We did. Only... we've blown him up before and he came back. Nastier than ever."
Sahra couldn't make her voice work, so she whispered. "'D he have a pet moosh-pup?"
Smiley shook his head. "I ain't sayin' your Simy's really Eon. It's just... awful co-incidence. A Moosh Puppy turning up right where the old bastard was s'posed'a have died."
"Simy ain't a Neon," said Sahra. "He's neffur mean. He helps me."
"Of course 'e does. Of course." Smiley moved to pet her like he wasn't sure if he'd hurt her. "You're right. Don't you listen to the ramblings of a daft ole man like me, eh?"
Sahra wiped her face with her arm. "Yeah. You show me how t' fix this thing 'fore I has t' go back ta being a stoopid doll."
Smiley made a yuck-face at that. "Is she horrible? The Tu'atta girl that dolls you up?"
"Not too horrible. Just makes me wear stoopid pretty dresses an' baby pants and feeds me like a baby and alla the dresses have got bits that'd snag." Sahra wrinkled her nose. "Some of 'em I can't really move in. Not proper moving."
"Sounds horrible, all right," Smiley had a little half-smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. He undid a piece of metal on the inside that Sahra hadn't been able to get loose. "Aha. Gluck in the cooling fan. Someone didn't set the filters right."
Sahra could see where the filters that were supposed to block skin flakes, hair and other bits of fluff were not set in their proper place. Someone had skipped out on that step and no-one had noticed.
"When it burneded..." Sahra began.
"Yeah?"
"I think it took the power out over a big bit of the station. It messed up the whole day. Is it--? Can we--?"
"Yeah?" said Smiley. He was listening. Really, really listening.
"Can we make that sorta stuff happen on purpose? But... just to the masters? I don't want nuffint like the air turning off 'cause that was scary."
Sahra learned a new word, that day.
Sabotage.
She tried it that night. When C and Sir were asleep, she got into the air vents and pulled a few filters loose. And did the same with a few other places on the same floor.
*
It had snowed fluff in C's room. It had snowed fluff all over Sir's uniforms. It had snowed fluff up and down the hallway outside the masters' rooms. Other masters were coming out in their night-clothes. Covered in fluff.
Sahra was also covered in fluff, but she didn't care.
It looked so funny.
There were bugs in it, too. Bugs the humans bought with them and bugs the masters bought with them that none of them wanted. Bugs the masters bred for food that had got loose and become part of the wildlife aboard. Bugs that ate other bugs and
some of the things that ate them, too.
Evriyong and cats and flittering skezzits bounced around like... like... a bunch of predators at a feast. The cats were so hepped up they were killing anything that moved, alive or no. And then chasing invisible things along the walls.
Too soon, the fun was over. Officials turned up to chase everyone infested with fluff to a clean-off zone and then to blank, bare rooms where they all wore almost-identical jumpsuits and had to answer questions.
Odd that C kept a grip on Sahra like she was a real doll. Something to help her feel safe.
Also odd that nobody bothered with the deaf humans.
It was amazing. Once they knew you were deaf, they treated you like you were dumb, too.
Sahra started planning her next trick. Something to do with their drinks. Or maybe their food. It'd be a lot of work to figure out the how of it, but it would be interesting to watch the fun.
*
C had take-home work, because she'd been tired at school. Because Sahra had found out a way to make her alarm peep just enough to wake her and then stop as if it had never peeped at all.
C's take-home work was circuits.
Sahra could not read the book, but she could read the pictures. And figure out numbers. When C was busy with the actual bits, Sahra was looking at the pictures that showed her the things that could be done. Tracing lines of power with her fingers. Imagining how the circuit-boards might feel under her touch.
Of course, it was interrupted by C looking something up, now and again, but it was worth it.
Sahra was figuring out something real funny to do with her almost-broken circuit boards. Something that might just make all the masters sleepy.
The rebels were doing their part. Smiley passed on Sahra's thoughts on sabotage, as well as some places where only the masters went. He also passed on the fact that Sahra could not read the slips of paper the rebellion left in their hidey-holes and had ignored them.
Ever after that, she met someone from the rebellion and talked ideas. Almost once a week.
Things were going badly for the masters. Sahra figured that much out from watching Sir talk with his friends while C watched entertainment in the evenings.
They said things like, rash of bad luck, and, malevolent spirit, and, haunted.
Who knew the masters believed in haints too?
She needed working ears for her biggest trick... and that was going to happen, soon.
*
Eon was beginning to question his alliances. The Tu'atta had given him a place, and power, and then neglected to enact a rescue in his hour of need.
The humans had hurt him - repeatedly - but this little human cared for him even when she feared he might be the enemy. He had no good reason to harm her, and she had no reason at all to harm him.
He was capable, now.
He could resume his former guise as something not-quite-Tu'atta and at the same time, not-quite-human, and walk right up to his former allies. Regain his former rank, title, and position.
...and make Sahra cry.
Face it, Eon died years ago, he told himself. That night in Bar'shi'gazal, when the Majestrix so casually left me for another entertainment. She killed me herself with just a few words. All the rebellion did was end the corpse.
Eon was dead. And glad of it. Past time for a new name. A new identity.
He would be Sahra's Simy. Helpful and clever pet to a pet. Whatever she needed, when she needed it. Her loyalty to him was unwavering, even in doubt and fear. Even when she should have been trapped away from him, she found a way to get to him. Even when she was starving, she fed him.
He owed her more, because she had already given so much.
*
Her days as a pet ended very simply. Sahra and C both were fighting a dress that was too tight today when it had fit just days ago, brand new.
C said, "You grow too much," in a petulant voice. It carried through the hissing buzz in Sahra's ears without a single womp.
Sahra, blinded by cloth, should have stayed silent. Yet she said without thinking, "You feed me too much. Of course I grow."
And, just like that, the dress came off and Sahra was dragged in front of Sir, then dragged by sir - only in her underthings, which should have been embarrassing, but wasn't - to a room where he and three other Barbas asked her questions she didn't know the answers to for hours and hours and hours.
And someone gave her a drink, and she woke up in one of the pallets in the human hospital. Naked, again. She sat up. Someone threw a simple work sheath at her as they passed by.
Sahra was glad of it.
Proper clothes.
Useful clothes!
The humans in the hospital were busy, of course. None of them stopped for Sahra, walking slowly and carefully along until she found a guard.
He was a very young Taan. Not even fully into his spinal crests. Standing all stiff at the door like that was going to make his muscles sore.
"Excuse please. I go to work now?" She knew the words were wrong, this time. In her months with the masters, even lipreading, she picked up a lot of the master language.
The Taan went for a superior, leaving the entire hospital unguarded.
Sahra looked around. The only thing stopping her or anyone else walking out and doing whatever they wanted was the fact that the guards would do what they liked when they came back. Usually to someone who didn't do it.
The superior, a hassled and barely-older Kadyn, asked Sahra, "Can you hear?". She had stains on her uniform.
"Sorta," Sahra managed. She was doing more lipreading than hearing, but she could hear the sound of the Kadyn's voice.
"Put her to work where she doesn't have to listen to anything," decided the Kadyn. Then, she up and grabbed Sahra by the wrist and dragged her along.
Sir had walked slower than this Kadyn. Maybe she had more to prove. Maybe she had other places to be. Then Sahra saw the darker patches on the Kadyn's uniform coat where higher rank-markings used to be. She had something to prove, then. And was extra mad because she had to say 'sir' to higher-ranked males.
Good.
Masters may be mean to slaves when they got mad, but they also made mistakes.
Pity she had to wait until night time to do anything about it. This Kadyn had Sahra sorting rubbish into picture-coded and colour-coded bins. It took her some time to realize, with an odd feeling of loss, that this was the stuff the rats bought in from the tunnels.
Good news, though, she could go home at last and see Mama and all her brothers and sisters. Maybe even Darvan.
*
Simy had not been told to 'go home' but Sahra found him there anyway, and gave him a hug and a kiss for being so good before she went off to sabotage some masters. She could branch out, now, but she only had a little time. She needed her sleep so she could work, the next day. And the sooner they let her back into the tunnels, the happier she'd be.
She would pick a tunnel to go up, by closing her eyes and spinning until she got scared, and find some masters' places and make some trouble.
It was going to become her night-time habit.
Sahra had knotted her tools - all working now, thanks to Smiley's help - into a belt made of old rags she'd found in the tunnels. That belt only left her secret place with her. Sahra crawled quickly and as quietly as she could manage.
She stopped when she found one of the really big water tanks. The tunnel she was using was one of the air vents. A filter at a skinny little window lead to a motor that bubbled air through the water and made it taste fresh. Sahra knew from the taste of slave's water and master's water that the humans didn't get this stuff.
She poked a hole in the filter and went looking for more trouble to make.
She found it in an audio control node, and set it to blast every master's entire set of saved audio files at top volume, all at once, at midnight.
Then she hurried to put her tools and Simy away and get back to bed.
*
They had her
sorting for three more weeks before they let her back into the tunnels as a rat. It was three weeks of masters having lots of sicknesses, sleepless nights, accidents and really dumb mistakes.
Sahra had spent one of her nights swapping shipping labels so a school got something really rude and a rude place for grownups got two hundred copies of The Tubby Little Puppy. And that was just the funniest of the things that got changed around.
She had to wonder what the Majestrix was going to do with half a ton of cheap human pet chow. Or what slave processing was going to do with their half ton of sparkly hair things.
That was the first time she wound up in the security office. The first time she met a male Om'r. And the first time she actually worked at sounding dumber than she was. And deafer than she was.
"Muh hearing no good so," she cupped one hand around her bad ear and kept her eyes away from the male Om'r's head at all. "Be loud if pleases?"
He did a weird shouty thing that wasn't quite shouting. "We found traces of you in the cargo bay. The one cargo bay where all the boxes had stopped. We also found those traces on the address slims."
"Didja?" She would have to find or make some gloves. And boots. Maybe even socks. Socks without frills or ribbons, definitely.
The Om'r bought up a map of the room and the surrounding tunnels. "Were you there?"
Sahra looked at it, frowning. She shrugged. "Guess... I dunno."
"Did you go in? Knock something down and try to fix it?"
Sahra thought about the number of lables she swapped. "Naw. I seed alot little writin'? I mighta touched some, guess. Know better I than move master things."
Now the screen had writing on it. Master words and human writing. Sahra could tell the difference, but not read the words.
"Do you know what any of these say?"
"There's Sierra. Sierra fo' Sahra." Sahra pointed. "An' there Delta. Delta fo' Darvan, and delta fo' deaf. We bo'f deaf, Duvi 'n' me."
The Om'r sighed and rubbed spots near his ear-holes. "I see. Do you know of anyone else who might have been around there?"
She shrugged again. "Din't nobody see."
He growled. "Be on your way."
As she ran for the way out, she hear him mutter, "Useless rats..."
She had to be more careful with her tricks. Make sure they didn't find her when they found them. Steal the useful things that they wouldn't miss. The things they had lots and lots of. She'd have to go scrounging near the store rooms to see what they had.
*
She was glad to see her spots fading. The curls, too, fell away and the orange seemed to be taking forever to get itself gone.
