The Omega Cage

by Steve Perry

  Scanner and Dain exchanged glances. Scanner said, "He's probably been looking at rocks all over the desert all night. Heat-scan gear on the cycle. I doubt he would have called in each time he landed to dig up a hot boulder."

  "So?" That from Chameleon.

  Dain looked thoughtful. "So, Juete's right. If something happened to his cycle—maybe he got sand in one of the repellors, like that—and he crashed and fractured his skull, it would be an accident. They'd come looking for him, but they wouldn't be looking for us."

  Scanner said. "They don't have vox ID at the prison. I could fuzz the com on the cycle, send in a garbled message, something like, 'My cycle's acting up, I'm gonna try to nurse it back to the flitter.' "

  Dain smiled. "You're a genius, you know that?"

  "I've always thought so, myself."

  "Maybe we could even have this guy—" Raze nodded at the corpse, "—tell them he'd checked the whole desert and it was clear."

  "Better not get too complicated," Scanner said. "We don't know how long he's been out here or what he's said before."

  "Right," Dain said. "Let's keep it simple."

  Maro watched as Raze and Sandoz loaded the body onto the aircycle. The machine bobbed as it adjusted to the weight. Raze arranged the corpse so that it would stay on, draping it between the protective side rails used for carrying cargo. The message had gone like Scanner had planned. He had used the tool kit under the cycle's seat to make a break in the com circuit. Even if they checked, he said, they'd never notice that it was done on purpose.

  "Ready," Raze said.

  Sandoz pulled the pulse pistol from his belt and gazed at it fondly before shoving it into the guard's holster. That had been a sore point with him, but if they had kept it, that would surely have raised suspicions. It was unlikely that the guards would believe it had vanished on impact, and even so, a routine sweep with a detector would turn it up if that were the case. Better to let it go with the guard.

  Scanner twisted the throttle and gunned the engine. He had rigged it to stay on until the cycle reached the end of its journey—a trip that should last about two kilometers, they figured. At this height, the ground was more or less flat for that far before a series of dunes crossed the flight path. The cycle would plow into one of those at speed, a collision that would surely have killed the man were he not already dead.

  "Give my regards to the devil," Sandoz said as he thumbed the aircycle into forward gear. The machine sped off, arrow straight, flying at chest height.

  They watched it for a moment before Maro said, "Come on, let's go. We won't be able to see it hit."

  The cycle had given them another tool they had not figured on. They couldn't take anything physical, but Scanner had figured out the lock frequency the guards were using for their operation. Without the codes, a com would only receive garbled static; with them, the transceiver they had taken from the downed flitter was now able to receive and decipher the opchan. Maybe they might get enough warning to hide if somebody else came their way.

  Almost out of the desert, Maro thought. Another hour and they would be back in the safety of cover. It could be a lot worse.

  They still had a chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alarms blared, and Stark's office com lit with incoming warnings from his guards: there was a force of Confederation Military cruising toward the prison, bleeding all over the operational channels and demanding to speak to the warden. Stark nodded grimly to himself. Karnaaj of the Soldatutmarkt had arrived, bearing not gifts, but guns.

  Well, Stark, said the smirking voice inside his head, if ever you needed a sign, here it is.

  Stark sighed and, almost as if he were viewing the movements of some other poor, doomed soul, watched his hand reach for the com.

  "Commander Stark." Karnaaj's voice was as cold as he remembered it. "I think you have some explaining to do."

  Might as well attack, Stark thought. What the hell. "Perhaps, Commander Karnaaj, but maybe first you'd better explain why you countermanded my authority on radio silence and Military Emergency Priority Status—"

  "Let's not play games here, Stark. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have the clout."

  True, Stark thought, and we both know it. But he had to go through the motions. "All right, Commander. I have a situation here that—"

  "State the nature of it," Karnaaj demanded. His voice was like a coiled steel snake, tightly wound and set to strike.

  Stark closed his eyes. "An escape. Seven prisoners."

  He was glad he couldn't see Karnaaj's face on the restricted channel. There was an ominous moment of silence—then: "You declared a Priority Emergency for an escape? For seven prisoners?" Karnaaj's tone promised retribution for this that would pale the face of a medieval inquisitor.

  Time to drop the bomb. "One of them was Maro, Commander. Recall how valuable you told me he was?"

  There was another moment of silence after that—but it felt different. Stark had a sudden gut reaction. Something was wrong with Karnaaj's interest in Maro; there was more going on here than showed on the surface. The SIU officer wasn't simply carrying out Confed policy. With the instinct of a good warrior seeing a chink in the enemy's armor. Stark struck. "I wanted to handle the matter myself, which is why I haven't put out a planerwide alert or called in the recon satellites yet. But if you like, I can do that now—"

  "No! I mean, I—ah—see the wisdom of your decision, Warden Stark. It would be easier if we handled this ourselves. No point in bringing in any more people."

  Stark grinned fiercely. So the unflappable Karnaaj didn't want the Confed looking over his shoulder on this. Interesting. Very interesting. For the moment, then, they were on the same side. It might be a rogues' alliance, but it was better than none. Karnaaj had a weak spot, and Stark had just found part of it.

  He might just come out of this alive…

  Maro thought that the straggly trees and underbrush that appeared when the sands faded into harder earth were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. When the canopy closed in overhead and the ground growth thinned he felt immeasurably safer than he had on the desert.

  Occasionally, the small transceiver that he now carried would crackle with talk on the search opchan, but from the sound of it, the guards were still fanned out in the opposite direction.

  Another hour's walk brought them to the Girdle; thirty minutes after that they were at the mining site.

  It was amazing. The jagged scar of the strip-mining operation had been smoothed but little by the few years of weather, but the area was littered with rusty machinery. How could they have simply left all this? There were worlds in the galaxy where just the metal of the abandoned gear would be worth a fortune, not to mention the motors and engines contained therein. Some of the devices for moving rock were ten meters tall and twice that length, with treads the height of a tall man; and everywhere, it seemed, smaller machines sat where they had been left, as though waiting for their operators to return and continue working.

  "Let's do a quick survey and see what all we've got here," the smuggler said. Sandoz muttered something under his breath. Maro turned to him. "I didn't catch that."

  "Nothing."

  They split up into pairs. Scanner and Raze went to the north, Sandoz and Chameleon to the south, and Maro and Juete to the east, toward the edge of the Girdle itself.

  An hour later the six met back at the Admin building, which was roughly in the center of the mining camp.

  Scanner said, "Mostly housing to the north. The rec hall, cafeteria, like that. But we found Stores, and maybe half a dozen three-man carts. They're surface vehicles, with fat tires, but I think I can get them running."

  Maro nodded. "Juete and I found Operations One. Most of the place had been cleared, but there are three GE shovel-loaders parked out back on the edge of the Girdle. Nothing else useful."

  It was Sandoz's turn, and he looked like a man with a secret. "Me and the skin-shifter found Op Two, and it was pretty well cleaned
out, too. There's something called a—what was it?"

  "Sort Separator," Chameleon put it.

  "Yeah, a Sort Separator, that looks in pretty good shape. I don't know what it does, but there's a lot of motors on it. And we found Maintenance. Somebody left a whole shitload of tools behind. Wrenches, welders, power sockets, like that. And a broadcast generator with two drums of fuel, too."

  Scanner laughed in delight. "Tools and power! We can do it! I'd bet demi-stads to toenails that I can cobble a GE repellor to one of those carts and give us wings!"

  "How long?" Maro asked.

  "Two days, maybe less, if we all help. It won't be pretty and it won't be fast, but if we have any luck at all, we can make it work."

  "We've been walking all night," Maro said. "We should get a few hours' sleep first. I'd hate to see anybody burn off a hand because he passed out."

  Nobody argued with that.

  Juete woke with a full bladder. Dain slept next to her, but he didn't move when she got up. They had chosen one of the small housing units just north of the Admin building. It had two sleeping rooms and a fresher unit. The others were in similar buildings in rows of a dozen such. She went to the fresher, but the chemical toilet had long since gone sour and died, so she moved outside, walked around behind the house, untabbed her coverall and squatted. She had gotten used to doing that the last few days.

  As she stood and began to retab her coverall, Sandoz stepped around the corner in front of her.

  Juete felt a cold finger of fear touch her spine. The assassin indicated the coverall. "Take it off."

  "What?"

  "You heard me." He reached for the tabs on his own coverall and began to pull them open. She didn't have to look; she could sense his erection.

  She felt the familiar remoteness, the insulating emotional shutdown, begin. It was not important. He wanted to fuck her and it would be the simplest thing to let him. He could probably kill her without raising his heartbeat; worse, he could hurt Dain or the others. It would cost her maybe five minutes, and he didn't have the look of a man who enjoyed giving pain with his sex. It would hurt nobody. She had done worse.

  The situation had been too good to last.

  She started to strip.

  "No," came Raze's voice.

  Juete turned and saw the woman standing there. Sandoz turned also. "Stay out of this," he ordered.

  "It's all right," Juete said to Raze.

  Looked from her to Sandoz, then back to her. "Do you want this?" Raze asked her.

  Juete shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He does, and it's not that important to me."

  Raze took 'a step, shifting her left foot forward and turning slightly to the side. "Well, it's important to me," she said. "Rape is rape."

  Sandoz hadn't bothered to retab his coverall, but he shifted his stance to mirror Raze's. "I can take you, you know that," he said softly.

  "Probably. But I'll hurt you before you do."

  "I've been hurt before."

  Raze's voice was as soft as Sandoz's. "Listen to me. If we start this, it's all the way, understand? You'll have to kill me, and I'll do my damnedest to kill you. I might not succeed. But even if all I do is break your leg, where does that leave you? In the middle of hell with the demons looking for you."

  Juete could see Sandoz thinking about that. It seemed like a long time passed. Weeks. Years. Eons.

  Finally, as the universe approached heat death, Sandoz stepped back and straightened. "It's not worth having to kill you just to screw her," he said. "She wants it, she has to have it, and sooner or later, I'll be around when she comes into heat. I can wait."

  Raze held her stance as Sandoz turned and strolled away. Then she relaxed and let out a long breath. "You okay?" she asked.

  Juete also remembered how to breathe again. "Yes. Thank you."

  "You don't have to let them have you. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You're free, now."

  Tears welled and spilled from Juete's eyes. If only that were true! How would it feel, to really be free? "Th-thank you, Raze." She stepped forward and hugged the other woman, feeling the hard muscle under her hands and against her own body.

  Raze hugged her back for a moment, then caught her shoulders and gently pushed Juete away. There was something in the way she did it that made Juete ask, "Is anything wrong?"

  "No. Nothing."

  Not quite sure why, Juete hesitantly reached out and stroked Raze's cheek. "You're a good friend, Raze."

  Raze caught her hand. "Look, I didn't save you from Sandoz just to play with you myself."

  Juete blinked in surprise. "I didn't say you did."

  Raze was obviously uncomfortable. She avoided the albino's gaze. "I'm not that way, you know. Everyone thinks so—everyone thinks that just because I've got muscles I've got to be a dyke."

  Juete said nothing. After a moment, Raze gave a short, uncomfortable laugh and looked at her. "Sorry. I get tired of explaining, y'know?"

  Gently, Juete asked, "Have you ever tried it?"

  She thought she saw a momentary flash of fear in Raze's eyes. "No."

  Juete felt a strong desire to touch this powerful woman, to kiss and stroke and be with her. "You trust me?"

  Raze looked puzzled for a moment. "Yeah. Funny, isn't it?"

  Juete raised herself slightly and kissed Raze. Her practiced mouth overcame Raze's initial resistance. She heard and felt Raze's breath grow ragged, and the small moan that escaped.

  "I want you," Juete said.

  "You sure?"

  "Yes. And that's the difference between you and Sandoz. You care what I want."

  They went back into the house. Raze stiffened when she saw Dain, still asleep on the bed.

  "It's all right. He won't mind," Juete said.

  "I dunno—"

  Juete leaned over him. "Dain?"

  He rolled over and blinked sleepily at the two women.

  "Raze and I want to be together. We'll be in the next room. Is that okay?"

  He smiled. "Sure. Have a good time." He rolled back over.

  "Jesu," Raze said softly. "You'd better hang onto him. He's a keeper."

  "I intend to. But for now, I want to hang onto you. Come on."

  She took Raze's hand and led her into the next room.

  Stark and Karnaaj faced each other over Stark's desk. For once the warden felt that he held, if not the upper, then at least an equal hand.

  He had explained the procedure for locating the escapees. Karnaaj had merely nodded and ordered the two dozen troops he had brought into the field to help Stark's guards. While Stark did not trust Karnaaj's soldiers and was certain Karnaaj felt the same about his guards, he was sure that each of them could control his own troops.

  So—rather than an enemy, Karnaaj was, for the moment at least, an ally. Stark would trust him no further than he could shot-put the planet he stood on, and he was certain that once Maro and the others were retrieved the alliance would be off; still, it was a better situation than before.

  Except for Juete. He was not yet ready to bargain her away. He loved her, he knew that, and Karnaaj would only use her for a while before he grew bored and destroyed her. Stark did not want that to happen. Somehow he had to find Juete before Karnaaj did, and hide her from the man's grasp. He had some ideas as to how to do that, but they would have to wait until the escapees were located.

  In the meantime, he would be polite. And cautious.

  Maro dozed. He heard the sounds of the two women making love in the next room, and even caught the faint scent of sexual musk from them. It was exciting, but he felt no particular jealousy of Raze. Juete had told him what she was, and he understood it, or at least thought he did. It had been hard for her, this trek, and he didn't want to add to it. Besides, one could not possess another man or woman—he had learned that in his studies of the spirit. He loved Juete for what she was, not for what he would have her be, and her sexual drive was a large part of her.

  Which was not to say that he would m
ind being in there with the two women, but he hadn't been invited.

  Maybe next time, he thought, as he slipped completely back into slumber.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Scanner was like a child with a room full of new toys. Maro smiled as the circuit-rider babbled about the equipment he'd found.

  "I can't believe they left this. Look! The circuits in this control box are worth six months' pay, easy! There's not a spot of corrosion on it! Christus, if I'd had this in the Cage, I could have run the whole place."

  They were in the Maintenance building, where a rapidly growing pile of mechanical and electronic components lay spread out on work benches and the floor. Chameleon ran a power socket nearby, stripping nuts from a repellor assembly, while Raze and Juete pushed one of the carts into the work bay. Sandoz fiddled with a laser torch, and Maro dug through a spare-parts bin, trying to fill Scanner's list. There was the coil-and-arrestor assembly he needed…

  Maro looked toward the work bays. The cart Juete and Raze moved into place stood next to another. They were boxy rectangles with the front end angled into a blunt point, the bodies made of stacked graphites, with a plastic windshield and no top. The operator sat in front, while two friendly passengers could squeeze into small seats behind him. The wheels were fat slunglas radials, two to a side.

  The whole unit was maybe three meters long, and a trip of any distance wouldn't be the most comfortable ride anybody had ever taken. But it sure beat walking.

  They would need two of them, unless they wanted to sit on top of each other. Scanner was confident that he could get the pair running, though he was having trouble with one of the scavenged repellor circuits.

  "See, we can link the systems, here and here, and get a kind of ground effect. Probably can't balance it good enough to fly more than a meter off the ground, and it'd be better to run on the surface whenever possible. We'll need two sets of controls. I can recircuit the repellor to a slave, here." He pointed to a jury-rigged aluminum box. "But it'll be tricky to run. I can do it direct, through the computer, but manual will be a bitch."