by Sara King
“He’ll put it on the waves,” Magali said, miserable. “Then the whole world will know.” She hugged herself tighter.
“You let Pan and his dream team take care of that,” Tatiana retorted. “You just focus on taking down Steele.”
Magali shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it.” Just knowing what she was had changed everything. She didn’t even want to step outside the cockpit, knowing that she had to look people in the eye.
“We’re running out of time,” Pan said. “He said twelve hours. It’s already been two and a half. We need a plan.”
“Panner,” Tatiana said evenly, “go sit in the corner until the other adult in the room and I are done talking.”
Panner snorted. “I don’t think s—” His words choked off with a ‘yes, Captain Eyre’ as he found himself once again staring down the barrel of a Laserat.
“Now,” Tatiana said, turning back to her as she put the gun away. “Like I already said, you can do this. You’re just as human as the rest of us, and you’re the only one who can put that bastard Steele in the ground like he deserves.”
Magali jerked her head up, catching something in Tatiana’s tone that told her she knew more about her situation with Steele than she had ever said aloud. “Shit,” she whispered, her eyes drifting back to the blinking implant in Tatiana’s forehead.
“Don’t worry,” Tatiana said. “I’m not telling a soul.” She squeezed Magali’s knee. “But you are gonna kick his ass for what he did, and you’re gonna make it hurt. Do it for all the women out there who have to deal with assholes like him. Hell, Milar’s told me the kind of stuff the Nephs have been doing around here. Do it for Fortune, Magali.” She leaned closer. “And do it for yourself.”
Magali swallowed hard, taking a modicum of strength from the diminutive cyborg. Maybe she could…if she had some sort of weapon that worked. EMP hadn’t done crap, and she’d seen the electronics he was carrying—bullets would just make him mad—and he seemed resistant to the kind of blows that had taken down his fellows.
“Pan!” Tatiana shouted, startling her. The cyborg turned to look at the eight-year-old Yolk Baby. “You got one of those shredder robots into a lab, right? I want an arm off one of those things turned into a combat weapon, like, yesterday.”
Pan frowned at her. “An arm?”
“Yeah,” Tatiana said. “Weld it together, fuse it, I don’t care how you do it, but I want one of those shredder things in Magali’s hands by the end of the day. She’s got nine and a half hours. I want it in four.”
Pan frowned. “The idea that we could put something like that together in only—”
“Babe,” Tatiana interrupted, waking the ganshi again, “I’d like you to pay close attention to what comes out of Mr. Panner’s mouth, and if it resembles anything close to ‘can’t,’ I’d like you to show him just how upset that makes you.” In response, the striped cub rumbled and got to its feet, sinking silver claws into the leather copilot chair, purple eyes fixed on Pan, fuzzy ears perked forward in anticipation.
Pan grimaced. “I’ll get it started.”
“Go get it done,” Tatiana said. “Then get it to the Tear. We’re gonna have a meeting of the minds to figure out how we’re gonna make the best of Steele’s little challenge, and Magali’s gonna have a chance to test it out before she uses it to eviscerate that prick.”
Tatiana turned back to face Magali. “You’ll do fine,” she said.
“So we’re gonna tell everyone?” Magali whimpered. “We’re gonna let them know what I am?”
“Hell no,” Tatiana said. “Just you, me, and Pan, and Pan knows how to keep his mouth shut, doesn’t he, Pan?”
“Absolutely,” Pan said.
Tatiana turned back. “As for Steele’s ‘trap,’ there’s gonna be some ‘technical difficulties’ in the feed. I’m thinking maybe a daytime TV station suddenly gets the bright idea to broadcast on all wavelengths during your fight.” She shrugged. “You leave that to us. Your job will be to bust Steele’s glittering ass all over Rath.”
“I can do that,” Magali whispered.
“Good,” Tatiana said. She got to her feet. “I’ll watch your back while you get some sleep. We land in the Tear in an hour.”
She wants me to get some sleep, Magali thought, both in humor and despair. As if I could sleep after all this…
And yet, somehow, between the lack of sleep, the exhaustion of leading another Yolk factory raid, and the draining knowledge that she was not who she always thought she was, Magali fell asleep on the rubberized floor of the cockpit in a matter of minutes.
CHAPTER 34: One Child at a Time
12th of June, 3006
North Tear
Fortune, Daytona 6 Cluster, Outer Bounds
“I can’t believe you snuck out and flew for Magali!” Milar cried. “Again! What were you doing when they suited up this time? Hiding in the bathroom, Tat?”
Because that’s what she had been doing, Tatiana snorted, sucking on a popsicle because it was hot outside and she was sweaty and dirty and she hated the outdoors and deserved something delicious to nurture the baby. “I flew just fine. Ask Drogire.”
“I did,” Milar snapped. “And he said you walked out into the field, unarmored, clinging to Magali’s coat, cackling the whole time! Pregnant!” The last came out as a roar.
“Nobody knew I was pregnant!” Tatiana cried. “Besides, that was the time before. This time, I just sat beside her on the open hatch of a spaceship as we flew around and she sniped people from above.” Then she frowned. Had there been cackling? Most of it was pretty fuzzy—she’d just had her treatment and she’d been buzzed out of her mind. Seeing Magali fighting Steele, though … That was an image that was gonna stick with her even if she got high enough to walk on the moon. Tatiana cocked her head. Now that was a cool thought…
“You do realize you just faded out for like ten minutes, right?” Milar said, waving his hand in front of her.
“No I didn’t,” Tatiana snapped, still trying on her moon-walking suit. When she glanced down, however, she noticed that the popsicle had melted from its stick and was pooling on the floor. She frowned at it, wondering how it had gotten onto the moon.
“Okay, look, I’ll tell Steffen he’s gotta reduce the side effects somehow,” Milar said. He shoved a huge male forefinger into her chest. “But you have gotta promise not to fly any more ships.”
“Bullshit!” Tatiana cried, horrified. “I had to fly Honor, Miles. The drugs keep me from frying electronics now, and it’s the greatest ship ever made, and it was going to war!” She narrowed her eyes and added, “And it’s mine.”
Milar winced. Then he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, still grimacing.
She knew that look. “What?” she demanded.
“Technically, Joel gave it to Magali, and Magali gave it to Kestrel.”
Tatiana froze. “The new bitch?!” She sputtered. “That…that…nail-painting harlot you two idiots brought back from the Lockbox?!”
“It made sense!” Milar blurted. “She’s a super-pilot the Coalition had locked away for life.”
“S-super p-pilot?” Tatiana sputtered. Then, her world slamming into focus, she said, “Wait, they gave her Honor?” This was a nightmare. A bad dream. A hallucination. It had to be! She started smacking her temple to rid herself of the unwanted vision. When Milar remained where he was, giving her a curious look, Tatiana felt her world start to shatter.
“She said she wanted to fly for the rebellion, and she wanted the best ship at our disposal,” Milar hastily explained. “She wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
Tatiana was feeling cold, icy fingers grab her by the heart and twist. “She wanted Honor?”
Milar swallowed hard. “And they, uh, gave it to her, yeah.”
“What?” Tatiana screamed. She kicked the gooey leftovers of her popsicle to splatter against the side of her solitary confinement tent. “And Magali just let her?!” In his corner, less t
han a foot from the dripping red remains, Babe the jaggle rumbled from the pile of pillows she had put there for him.
“Well, uh, it was Joel’s decision, technically,” Milar said, watching the frozen crimson slush ooze down the canvas. “He’s spending all his time with Jeanne, so he’s loaning it to the rebels for a few thousand credits a day. You’re still trying to avoid people, so they thought Kestrel was a natural choice.”
“Natural?!” Tatiana cried. “She’s a stranger.” Tatiana waved her hands in disgust. “In what universe would Magali give Honor to a total stranger?!”
“She gave a little demonstration of her flight capabilities with Liberty and impressed her,” Milar replied stubbornly.
“I gave a demonstration of my flight capabilities,” Tatiana insisted. “I took out Bouncers without guns. Where’s my ship?”
How do I tell her they consider her too much of a liability? Milar thought, hard enough to come at her even through the haze of drugs.
Tatiana froze. So that was their problem. She was the bird with the broken wing, the wounded swan that would freeze to death in the ice because it couldn’t fly south for the winter. She grabbed Milar by the front of his leather jacket and dragged him down until their noses were almost touching.
“Honor,” she said, “is mine. I’m not passing it over to some young, over-confident flygirl knucker with a fake name, an over-inflated ego, and a nail fetish.”
Milar frowned at her. “Nail fetish?”
“Yeah,” Tatiana said, flinging a disgusted hand at the room in general. “Like she paints her toes while going through critical systems-test routines and dumps polish on the console or something.”
Milar raised a single auburn brow. “You sound like you’re talking from experience, squid.”
“It was only a couple times,” Tatiana objected. “And I never got any paint on the instruments, just the dashboard and maybe a little on the altimeter, but I was able to get it off with a razor blade afterwards, so it doesn’t count.”
“Yeah, okay. And tell me again why you’re such a better candidate than KayKay?”
Tatiana felt herself flush to the ears. “KayKay? So, what, you’re buddies with her, now?”
“Believe me,” Milar said, with unnecessary deliberateness, “it’s good to be buddies with KayKay.”
Realizing what he was saying, Tatiana felt her world sputter to a halt. “You’re attracted to her.”
Milar blinked at her, then jerked back startledly. “Huh? What? No…”
“You are!” Tatiana shrieked. “She flew some fancy moves and you jumped ship! Is it because I’m stuck down here, chugging Steffen’s cocktails, trying not to kill anyone, Miles? Is it because you’re afraid the drugs’ll fail and I’ll fry you like a Shrieker?” Then she hesitated. “I mean, again.”
Milar grimaced and put a hand to his head, “If you don’t calm down, I’d say that’s a pretty distinct possibility, sweetie.”
“I am calm,” Tatiana snapped. “They are not giving that ship to some trollop who calls herself ‘KayKay.’ I bet her daddy let her have the biggest doll collection before he paid for her boob job and flight training.”
“Listen,” Milar said, “sweetie, you’re not being reaso—”
“Please,” Tatiana interrupted, feeling like her body was on fire with rage, “say ‘reasonable.’ Say it.”
Milar held up both hands, a wince tightening his face. “Look, I’m just gonna go back to the surface and let you calm—”
“I am calm!” Tatiana screamed. “I’m drugged to the gills and I’m calm!”
Milar grunted and dropped to one knee, and suddenly Tatiana’s anger vanished in the cold horror that she had given him the Wide. Again. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him. “Miles?” she asked, touching his shoulder gently.
Milar looked up at her with a grimace. “Kestrel is…special…Tat. Just trust me on that, okay?”
Realizing he was still defending the woman, Tatiana yanked her hand back. “I saw her fly, Miles!” Tatiana snapped. “I saw nothing ‘special’ about that other than a set of really big boobs and red hai—” She gasped. “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”
Milar frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“You think the little trollop’s sexy because of her red hair!” Tatiana shrieked.
“That ‘little trollop’ is like twice as big as you are,” Milar barked. “She could crush you with her pinki—” Then he caught himself, reddening.
“So that’s what you like about her,” Tatiana snapped. “She’s not a midget.” She got up to walk away in a huff.
“Listen,” Milar said, grabbing both of her hands and dragging her back to face him. “We both know she’d never stand a chance against you in a dogfight. You’re reigning queen of the skies, pumpkin. You’re just out of sorts lately…”
You’re just out of sorts lately… Hearing that out loud, it was like a floodgate was released on the pressure inside her. “It’s the drugs,” Tatiana bawled. “They’re lowering my reaction times and giving me creepy visions and making me all fuzzy…” She hadn’t meant for it to come out in a wail, but it did. She dropped her face to Milar’s arm and sobbed at everything she’d lost, at her own ineffectiveness, at the loss of her popsicle. Especially the popsicle. It was hot in the Doom Tent and it had been cherry. She loved cherry.
“Hey sweetie,” Milar said, petting her. Like a dog. Tatiana sniffled, but didn’t bite his hand like she felt like doing. “You’re just drugged, okay? Steffen’s working with the other Babies to find a cure, and when they do, you’ll get over this.”
“Why can’t they just take it out,” Tatiana whined. “Encephalon removed the bombs!”
Milar gave her an unhappy look. “Anna left a present we weren’t expecting, sweetie. Spencer Whiting managed to shut down the node’s DNA alteration components, but the changes are still going anyway. They think she started some sort of chain reaction, and there’s a good chance now you need that node to live. Spencer and Steffen just need a little more time to work on it.”
“They said Anna hacked their systems and left a cackling smiley-face virus on all their files on me after the little bitch deleted everything,” Tatiana whimpered
Milar froze. “How did you hear that?”
Tatiana stiffened and flushed. “Well, I might’ve gotten a little bored and…”
“You flew? To the Orbital? And went through the Junkyard? Alone?!” Milar demanded. “In your condition?”
Tatiana pulled free of his arms with a squint. “And just what ‘condition’ might that be, Miles? You sound like I’m pregnant or something.”
Milar gave her a long look, then held up two hands. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Eight,” Tatiana said, counting to make sure because she loved tests.
“Four,” Milar said. “There are only five fingers, max, on one hand, Tat.”
Tatiana squinted at his two hands. “There’s two hands.”
“And that,” Milar said, putting his hands away, “is exactly my point.
“Look,” Tatiana said, “I can fly a ship in my sleep.”
“Apparently,” Milar responded. “I’m taking your peg.” He reached for it.
“No, screw that,” Tatiana said, yanking the chain around her neck out of range. “What if the Nephyrs find me here? I’m all alone in the jungle, Miles.” She gestured out the door at the huge green expanse of leafy greenness going on for green eternity. “I’m bored.”
“So you fly yourself to the Orbital to spy on the Babies,” Milar growled.
“That’s better than developing a redhead fetish because she pulled a couple fancy spins and took out a soldier who was wounded anyway.”
“You,” Milar said, “have a piloting addiction.”
“And you have a boobs addiction,” Tatiana snapped, jabbing him in the chest twice for emphasis. “I refused to be judged by a hypocrite.”
“Uh,” Milar said, looking at t
he items in question, “what am I being hypocritical about?”
“The fetish, Miles,” Tatiana said. “You still haven’t told me why you’ve got the hots for a skeenky girl you just met, and whose flying is only decent in comparison.”
Miles’ eyes widened and he twisted to look at the open door to the jungle. “Don’t call her a skeenk.”
“She basically wore a thong, Milar. To the war-council!” Tatiana snapped. “Definition of a skeenk, right there.”
“They’re shorts, not a thong.”
“You can see half her ass-cheeks!” Tatiana snapped back. “And I’m pretty sure I saw areolae when she bent over the map! Why are you and Jersey vouching for her if it’s not her tits, Miles?”
Milar’s response was an image of a blank white wall, and Tatiana froze, frowning. Over the last few weeks, she had come to learn that was Milar’s way of thinking about something very, very boring in order to keep her from seeing what he was really thinking.
“You’re hiding something!” she cried, victorious. “It’s her tits! You like her because she’s got huge bovine mammary glands and struts around like a horny sex-starved skeenk!”
Milar’s eyes widened and he glanced again at the entrance to the tent. “Seriously, don’t call her a—”
“Who’s a skeenk?” the busty little weasel said, sashaying into Tatiana’s personal space as if she owned it. Frowning at Tatiana—focusing on the blinking mechanics jutting from her forehead, she eventually turned to Milar and said, “Miles, sugar, I need to get us back in the air if we’re going to make that meeting tonight.”
Tatiana’s mouth fell open. “‘Sugar,’ Miles?”
“It’s…just the way she says things.”
“What,” Tatiana snapped, “she a planetbound hick from the twenty-ninth century?” Tatiana snorted and walked up to the redhead. Jabbing a finger into her chest, she looked up at her and said, “I don’t know who you think you are—” poke, poke, “—but I’ll figure it out.”
