by R. M. Olson
This time, Tanya gave a reluctant chuckle. “He’s a good boy, you know.”
“I know,” Ysbel said softly. “I know he is.”
They didn’t speak for a few moments. At last Tanya said, “Ysbel?”
Ysbel opened her mouth to respond, but a small noise from her com stopped her. She glanced at it, then frowned suddenly, stomach tightening. “Just a moment, my love,” she said quietly. “I think this is important.”
She tapped her com. “Hello?”
“Ysbel.” It was a man’s voice, rough, but with a genteel accent.
She recognized it immediately.
“Vitali Dobrev,” she said.
“Yes.” He paused, and there was a trace of humour in his voice when he continued. “I suppose I should be swearing at you right now, or threatening to kill you. But to tell the truth, I’m intrigued. I got a call recently, from a long-lost nephew. And he asked me to call you, although he wouldn’t tell me why. I was curious, and so I looked you up. Imagine my surprise.” He chuckled, and there was a menacing quality to the sound. “I had no idea who you were when I had you locked in my cells a few months back. I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to talk shop with you. And now, here we are. I can’t track you, because I imagine that hacker kid you had with you last time did something to your com. And whether or not you know where I am, you can’t get at me. So, since neither of us can kill the other, I suppose we talk.”
Ysbel was silent for a moment.
Whatever she said to this man, she’d have to weigh every word.
Vitali Dobrev. The weapons dealer. The man they’d stolen the Ungovernable from, in what seemed a lifetime ago. Lev’s uncle. Even if she hadn’t known that, his brilliant mind was readily apparent in every one of his vicious, deadly creations.
She glanced quickly at Tanya. Her wife’s face was strained, but she gave a short nod. They’d discussed this, for hours.
“Vitali. I have a proposition for you,” she said at last.
“Yes?”
“Suppose I told you I could give you Masha Volkova. Is that something you’d be willing to bargain for?”
There was a long pause over the com. When Vitali spoke again, his tone was calm, but she could hear the pulsing hatred under his words. “I don’t think you realize how badly I’d like to kill you all, really. It would be a great pleasure to kill any one of you. But Masha Volkova? I would burn down the system to kill her.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Ysbel, letting a hard edge show in her own voice. “I don’t know yet if it will be necessary. I may as well tell you, Vitali—you are my backup plan only. But I believe this is something that could possibly benefit both of us.”
There was another long pause. “Ysbel,” he said at last. “Your father was many years older than me. And I don’t believe he ever approved of my work, even though my dream was to emulate him. But he’d never have insulted me like that.”
“Then perhaps you’d best learn who you’re dealing with,” said Ysbel, letting all the emotion drain from her tone. “Because my father was a very kind man. He would not have blown up a shuttle station and killed thirty-five people, or have blown Lena’s ship into space dust. He probably would not have stolen your ship, and he’d certainly not be threatening to kill you right now. So I would like both of us to be very clear. You are not dealing with my father. Right now, I am working with Masha. There may come a time in the near future when I am not. If that time comes, I am giving you an opportunity to take your revenge. If you feel that’s insulting, shut off your com now.”
“You’re willing to give me Masha Volkova, if she stops being useful to you,” he said at last. “And what’s your price?”
“I assume,” said Ysbel quietly, “that if I asked you to send your people to protect some children, you could do it?”
“There is only one thing I would accept in trade for something like that,” said Vitali, his tone back to a faint amusement. “But fortunately for you, it’s what you’ve offered me.”
“Good,” said Ysbel. “Then let’s discuss details.”
When she finally shut off her com, she met Tanya’s gaze. Both their faces were grim.
“Do you think it will come to that?” asked Tanya.
“I don’t know,” said Ysbel.
“You hope it doesn’t,” said Tanya softly.
Ysbel paused for a moment. At last, reluctantly, she nodded. “You’re right. She betrayed us once, and she could easily do it again. But—you are right.” She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the sick feeling in her chest. “And you, my Tanya? You are the one with the conscience. Am I doing the right thing?”
For a long moment, Tanya didn’t speak. At last she said quietly, “We can’t let those children die. So—yes. I believe you are.”
For some reason, Tanya’s words did nothing to quell the tightness in Ysbel’s chest.
For a few moments they sat in silence. Then Ysbel said, lightening her voice with an effort, “So. You said you need to be able to find a way to protect us from Grigory’s people, yes?”
“If things go badly, it would be nice to have a backup plan,” said Tanya.
“I have a good idea,” came a small voice from behind Ysbel, and she jumped, biting back a curse.
“Olya,” she said, once her heartbeat had slowed sufficiently to allow her to speak. “I thought I told you not to sneak up on me.”
Olya gave her a superior look. “I didn’t sneak up on you, Mama. I just came over. I’m very quiet.”
“Yes, well, I’ve noticed that. Good job. Please say something when you come through the door next time, though.”
Tanya was fighting back a smile.
Olya sighed heavily. “Alright. If you really want me to.”
“If you want your mama to live long enough to see you grow up, yes, I want you to,” Ysbel grumbled.
Olya started to roll her eyes, noticed Tanya, and stopped herself mid-roll. “Anyways, Misko went to get some food, and I got it down for him, so he’s eating right now. And I came to find you, and I heard you saying you needed a backup plan, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” said Ysbel warily.
“Well, I have an idea. What if we put a smoke bomb in the rooms? And if something goes wrong, you can set it off and yell fire, and then they’ll have to get out.”
Ysbel raised an eyebrow and exchanged glances with Tanya. “That’s—not a bad idea, actually,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Let me think about it.” She turned back to her daughter. “Thank you, my Olya.” She paused. “You are very smart, you know. I think I’ve been missing out when I didn’t use you to help me before. I—” She paused a moment, swallowing down something in her throat. “You were very young when I—when we got separated. So I suppose I’m not used to having someone around to help me when I need it. I’m sorry.”
Olya smiled, but there was something pinched and worried in her face. “Mama?” she said at last, her voice small.
“Yes, my love?”
“Why did we come here? You never told me.”
Ysbel sighed. “My love. You remember Grigory, yes? We’re trying to stop him from killing us. And—” She paused. “And also, my Olyeshka, there are people in this place, on this planet, that … hurt people. They hurt people like your mamochka and your aunties and uncles. People like you. We’re going to try to stop it.”
Olya was looking up at her, face pale and grave, and there was something in her look that told Ysbel she knew much more about this place than Ysbel had told her. “And you will stop it, right mama?” she asked.
Ysbel gave her a small smile. “Yes, my love. With your help.”
The look Olya gave her then wasn’t hero worship. Instead, it was something like adoration. Ysbel reached out her arms, and Olya allowed herself to be hugged, conscious of her dignity at first. And then she gave in, wrapping her arms tightly around Ysbel.
“I love you, mama,” she whispered.
&nbs
p; “I love you too, my Olya,” Ysbel whispered back, through the lump in her throat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“THEY’RE GOING TO be here soon.” Tae’s strained voice came through Jez’s earpiece, and she grinned reflexively.
“They’d damn well better,” she murmured back. “Because honestly, I’m going to get bored pretty soon here, and considering I’m running a damn gambling hall with a damn bar attached—”
“Jez.” Masha’s voice was icy.
Jez gave a snort of laughter, and someone on the general line let out a long-suffering sigh. Normally she would have guessed it was Lev, but … well, but something had changed with Lev. She still wasn’t sure how to react to it, but he wasn’t harassing her nearly as much as he had been.
It was—well, it was honestly kind of nice. Nicer than she’d expected. Having him on her side, rather than trying to logically point out all the flaws in her plans, which, honestly, had never actually worked mostly because she started ignoring him the moment he opened his mouth to argue with her, but still … Anyways, knowing that he wasn’t going to be pointing out all the flaws in her plan somehow made her look at them a little more closely to begin with, which might or might not be a bad thing, depending on how you looked at it.
She sighed heavily, glancing quickly around the dimly-lit gambling hall, then took up her place at the back of the hall, on a tall stool set up against the wall-length mirror.
She always preferred cheating when there was a mirror in place. Gave her idiot partners a false sense of security.
The hall itself was not nearly as fine as the hall on Grigory’s ship. Still, Galina had overseen it, and it was actually pretty damn impressive. That girl knew how to make something look nice. It had the ambiance of a small kabak in a backwater dirt-eater zestava, but the rough trappings were stylized and somehow elegant—the ubiquitous folding aluminum tables replaced with tables of something silvery and expensive-looking, polished to an old-metal sheen, the rickety stools replaced by stools of the same shape, but with comfortable seats and discrete back supports for people who planned to spend an evening gambling. The stereotypical rough bar was made of blocks of stone cut to look like prefab, but the soft gleam of them made it obvious that it was only a facade, and the counter was polished worked wood instead of rough-cut timber. And honestly, the collection of dark, elegant bottles behind the counter told you everything you needed to know. Yes, she’d gotten smashed on sump plenty of times in her life, but there was something distinctly different about getting smashed off something that would cost you enough credits that you could start your own damn smuggling cartel.
It was dimly lit, but the people she’d set up there were in place. Radic, at one of the tables, gave her a reassuring wink. She’d set him up to get the games running, and he’d agreed on the condition that she teach him how she cheated.
Wasn’t going to show him all her tricks, but she’d given him enough to get him started, and from the wide grin she’d seen on his face while he practiced, he was very happy with the arrangement.
“You got this, Radic?” she said into her com in a low voice. He gave a brief nod. His face was tense with anticipation, but she could see the hint of a grin under his expression.
“Good,” she said. “I’m going out. Figure they might need a hand. Besides, wouldn’t be bad for me to be seen. Got a bit of a reputation on Grigory’s ship. May as well let the bastard know that we’re all here.”
“Good luck,” he said into the com.
She shot him a jaunty grin, and strolled out of the gambling hall.
Galina waited for her outside the door, and she straightened as Jez stepped out.
Jez looked her up and down in appreciation, letting her eyes linger on the very attractive curves that Galina’s new outfit showed off to admirable advantage. She was dressed like a weapons dealer who’d made a hell of a lot of money—tight thigh length boots, a soft, intricately-embroidered black shirt, a fitted black vest. She had at least three heat pistols Jez could see, and probably a hell of a lot more that she couldn’t, as well as a set of very sharp gutting knives attached to her belt, and honestly, she looked like she could walk into the middle of a crowd of people and gun down every last one of them.
It was a look Jez had always found completely irresistible.
She gave a low wolf-whistle. Galina dimpled—damn it, those dimples almost did Jez in every time, honestly—and gave Jez a wink. “Well,” she said. “Are you ready to run your very own gambling hall? This is every dream you’ve ever had coming true, right Jez?”
Jez put her arm around Galina’s waist and pulled her in for a moment, grinning, and ignored the small pang in her chest.
Because yes, running a gambling hall, not to mention a gambling hall that’s only purpose was to pull a job on Grigory Kozhikov, and hopefully, in the process, cheat his boyeviki out of every damn credit they had, was actually something she was very much looking forward to.
But—
But to get here, she’d let Olyessa put a lock chip on her ship.
Even the thought of it felt like a splinter of metal in her lungs, making breathing difficult and relaxing impossible.
The Ungovernable was every dream she’d ever had come true, and the thought of losing her was like a piece of herself being ripped away.
“Well, you look like every dream I’ve ever had coming true,” she said, making her voice light somehow. “You look like you could kill me without breaking a sweat.”
Galina gave her that fond smile. “You, Jez, are probably the only person I know that gets off on people looking like they could kill you without breaking a sweat.”
“Their loss,” said Jez with a smirk.
Galina gave a soft chuckle. “Well, according to Tae, our visitors should be here any minute now. I’m going to get into position.”
Jez followed her out into the lobby, but there was still that ache in her chest, and she couldn’t decide it had to do with her ship, or Galina, or what had happened between Masha and the rest of them, or all of it combined.
When she reached the lobby, she stared around her in frank astonishment.
She’d been focusing on her gambling hall, which, fair enough, because first of all, it was a gambling hall, and second, she was running the place, and third—well, third, she had no desire to know about the kind of entertainment that would take place in places other than the gambling hall. Even if they were all fake.
But what they’d done to the lobby almost took her breath away.
It was disgustingly, decadently opulent. Gold dripped from the chandelier, and gold coated the walls, and it wasn’t even trying to be tasteful, just filthily rich. The chairs were upholstered in wine-red fabric that looked as soft as a warm bath, their legs the buttered glow of polished wood, and even the polished-stone floor was veined with gold.
It was light-years away from the rowdy construction site it had been the night before. Which was a good thing. A very good thing. But—
Well, but for a moment her stomach turned slightly. Because this looked too much like something real.
She took a deep breath and crossed over to where Masha was standing.
She steadfastly refused to look at the cages. Because hell, she’d seen a lot of crap in her life, but watching living, breathing human beings locked into cages was something she wasn’t planning on experiencing if she could help it. She’d been avoiding the lobby ever since they installed the damn thing, honestly, and that had been before there’d been people locked in it.
She forced her mind away from the thought of other pleasure houses, other cages whose occupants didn’t have an emergency key to get out any time they needed to.
“Hello, Jez,” said Masha calmly. She was dressed resplendently, her trousers and vest brightly coloured and heavily embroidered, and her nondescript hair, usually pulled back in a simple rat’s tail, hung loose around her shoulders in soft waves.
Jez raised an eyebrow. “What, you decide to try for a mod
el citizen role?”
Masha gave her a small smile. “No. I decided to dress the part of the proprietor of a pleasure house. Because, as you may remember, if we mess this up, we will all be murdered in very unpleasant ways.”
Jez grinned. “Wouldn’t be much fun otherwise, would it?” She turned and surveyed the room, still consciously averting her eyes from the cages.
Galina had settled herself into a chair across from the cages and was studying the actors inside with a critical eye. Across from her, another customer lay back on a couch, eyes half-lidded with the glazed expression of someone who was higher than the damn atmosphere, and had been for a long time. One of the “entertainers” was draped across his lap, her own eyes glazed. Part of it was the eye drop solution that Ysbel had come up with, but most of it was acting, and they were doing a good job at it, as far as Jez was concerned.
Although in fairness, any time Jez had been that high she had exactly zero recollection of how she’d looked.
A few other customers were scattered throughout the room, in various attitudes of debauchery, some with entertainment, others without, and the small, discrete chart of open rooms placed behind the desk was visible if you were looking for it, most of the rooms marked in a deliberate bold red as occupied.
She glanced over at the gambling hall. She’d taken care of that, she and Radic, anyways. He was a good man to have close when you were trying to set up a gambling hall and bar, to be honest. Although after having tasted the crap he’d distilled back in prison, she wasn’t sure she trusted him with stocking the place.
“You know what you’re doing, right Jez?” Masha murmured.
Jez grinned. “Know exactly what I’m doing. You want someone to cause havoc, figure I’m basically an expert.”
Masha didn’t respond, but her lip twitched slightly in what might have been the beginnings of a smile.
Jez’s chest tightened again, because … well, because she still wasn’t completely sure how she felt about Masha, and this wasn’t making it any easier.
And then the doors slid open, and two people walked through.
