“Why not? We gotta put the fire out,” Vance replied from somewhere over Nathyn’s head.
Jer coughed. “Just wait a sec.”
Nathyn heard footsteps, followed by more coughing. Slowly, he realized some of it was coming from him, and each time he coughed his head throbbed. Finally, he heard something plop into water.
“It’s an electrical fire,” Jer explained between coughs. “Water will make it worse.”
Nathyn heard the clink clink of tools.
“There. It’s out.”
“What did you do?” asked Vance.
“Cut the power to this portion of the ship. Sadly this means this cabin won’t have power until we repair the damage. I didn’t exactly do it by the textbook.”
“I’m sure Captain will forgive you,” Vance said as he wafted something up and down, pushing the smoke out of the small space.
“Forrest!” Jer called from above Nathyn’s head, followed by another groan.
“I’m okay, Jer. Just a headache,” replied Forrest.
“Nathyn?” came Vance’s tentative voice. “You okay?”
Nathyn felt two fingers press against his throat. He groaned and swatted at the hand, finally able to move.
Slowly, he and Forrest were pulled into sitting positions. Forrest’s face was bleeding, and if Nathyn wasn’t mistaken he had a cut to match. Blaine had done a number on each of them.
“I’m kinda starting to hate him,” Nathyn grumbled.
“Just now starting?” replied Forrest.
Nathyn grunted.
“What’s going on?” came a soft voice from outside.
Kat entered her hair mussed as though she had been sleeping with a horrible dream or had had one hell of a romp in the sack. Nathyn glared up at her. How had she slept through the ship’s fire alarm? It could have awoken the dead on the planet surface.
“Where’s Blaine?”
“He escaped,” growled Forrest, clearly just as annoyed with their new XO.
“Oh. Oh no.”
Nathyn rolled his eyes and stopped as the movement sent his head into orbit. He pressed his palm to his eyes, willing the pain away. Blaine and Kat were going to pay for this!
Chapter Twenty
Bit followed the ever-present crowd through the pedestrian channel dug under the motorway. So much of Johannesburg was packed with pedestrians, very few of the streets still allowed ground-car traffic. Only the tollways still allowed cars on them. The rest of traffic was either airborne or mass transit.
Bit shook her head as yet another person bumped into her. Earth was on the brink of collapse under its own population. She had never realized it was over-crowded until she traveled to other human populations. Mars was full, too, but they were doing something about it—and they had planned their large cities in a way to feed its masses. Johannesburg was a prime example of a city that had outgrown itself, and now the population starved.
Her own stomach growled in agreement. She needed to eat, but she didn’t dare pull out her last protein pack until she found some privacy. Here in the street, many people wouldn’t hesitate to grab the precious food and run away.
She had walked all day since talking with Cila, leaving her sad and tired. Bit couldn’t help but think on Cila’s words. The idea of sex being pleasurable to the woman was comparable to the idea that one might enjoy a good flogging. Bit had never imagined that her sister might have enjoyed her encounter with Zandri or imagined that she might enjoy an encounter with a man… say Oden or Ja…
She stopped her thoughts there.
Bit felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the thought of being with a man. She shook her head, trying to dispel the images rising to her mind. She wondered if Oden had any more tattoos, and how long it would take her to find them all. Her blush darkened and a silly little grin spread across her lips.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her neighbor staring at her, her own grin in place. Bit balked at the other woman’s expression, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t alone. Her blush darkened as the other woman gave her a knowing smile and turned away.
Bit felt dirty all over, but she forced herself to focus on the reality of the day—she was in a crowd, chased by multiple different groups, and barely able to walk on her damaged knee. She needed to be focused, and thinking about Oden’s tattoos was as far from focused as she could get.
She began scanning her surroundings, looking for police officers, Wic, and her crew all at the same time. She spotted a pair of officers standing on the top edge of the concrete channel funneling pedestrians under the tollway. Bit had no idea what illegalities they thought they could see from their perch above everyone’s head. From that vantage point, a woman could give birth within the masses without them noticing.
Bit shook her head. She had to stop thinking about Cila, Alesha, and babies. They were just as dangerous as thinking about men.
The channel opened up into a wider street, and the packed mob began to spread out. The walkway passing under the tollway that connected Rosettenville with Alberton—the suburb where Zandri had contacted their ship during their last run. Alberton was one of the few mid-level suburbs. Jobs were available and apartment buildings met government ordinances, but no one was spending money on luxuries and many families lived in apartments much too small for their numbers.
Bit pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket and glanced at the address again. She had it memorized from looking at it every five minutes, but she did it again all the same. With the address firmly in her mind, again, she turned at the first street. To her amazement, it was only full, not packed. If she had had the energy, she could have run, weaving through the crowd. Since returning to Earth, it was her first moment of space within the maze of streets. She took a deep breath, relaxing in the space.
She glanced around, taking in the features of those nearest her spot in the general flow and realized one negative to fewer people—it was simple to be spotted in a crowd this small, especially with features as noticeable as hers.
In the next block, Bit spotted vendors and shops spewing out of their spaces to display their wares on the street. She spotted a kitchenware shop; a food vendor with limited, high-priced choices; a realtor office with pictures hanging on the window of local apartments for sale; and finally a clothing depot with racks lining the sidewalk.
Bit was just about to pass the clothing racks for the food vendor when she spotted a familiar figure half a block behind her. Wic weaved through the group, scanning the crowds and peering into shops. Bit felt her habitual panic building. She had enjoyed a leisurely day without anyone chasing her, and, as a result, she had let her guard down.
How did he find me again? she wondered as she slipped into the maze of clothing racks. She grabbed a scarf off a hanger and a hat off a metal display before weaving up to the exterior clerk.
She threw a few silver bills at the cashier. “Keep the change.”
As she walked away, she slammed the hat down on her head, covering the glint of her pale hair. She tucked the thin scarf in the lower pocket on her filthy cargo pants, keeping a tiny corner poking out in case she needed to change her head dressing. She hurried away from the clothing depot, ignored the food vendor despite the growling in her stomach, and scurried down the block. She didn’t run, fearful that it would draw attention in the smaller crowd.
Still, she didn’t doddle despite her knee. Limping, she thought to herself. He’ll spot my limp.
Bit slowed down trading speed for a smoother gait. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her to run for the hills. As she turned down a corner, she glanced over her shoulder. Wic was easy to spot in the array of business-casual men and women. He was looking her way and picking up his pace.
“Can’t I catch a break?” she asked herself as she started scanning the new street.
Unlike the slums, she couldn’t exactly scale the walls or burst into someone’s apartment without the police being called in, and the last thing she needed wa
s yet another person chasing her. Wic was bad enough.
At the end of the block, the scenery changed from commercial to industrial. The impact of the transition was lessened by the continuation of the upstairs apartments. Even over smelly warehouses and noisy plants, developers had built towering apartment structures.
Bit crossed the intersection, weaving through the pedestrians as fast as she could without compromising her gait too severely. Reaching the other side, she went for a door. The first floor of the tall building appeared to be some sort of warehouse, with tall, glass-block windows letting light in without giving the inmates a visual of the street.
Bit burst into the warehouse and stumbled to a stop, half her body leaning over a railing. She stood on a catwalk above a deep, open basement filled with pounding and grinding machinery. It wasn’t a warehouse, after all, but a manufacturing plant. Bit glanced back at the door. A large, red sign declared it to be an emergency exit. Bit assumed some part of the mechanism connecting the door to the fire alarm had been disconnected. She scanned the release bar and wire running along the hinges up to the little box above the door.
She couldn’t figure out what had been disconnected—at least not with enough speed to make it worth it. If Wic came through the same door there was nothing she could do about it.
Bit turned down the catwalk and picked up her pace, ignoring the throbbing in her knee and scanning for another exit from the opposite side of the plant. The machinery continued to bang and crunch, drowning out any other sound. Bit glanced over her shoulder as she reached the far corner. Sure enough, like a bloodhound, Wic was still on her trail.
How does he do this? she wondered, feeling tears of exhaustion and pain pricking her eyes.
She found the first ladder down to the main floor of the plant. Using the skill she had learned on the Lenore, she slid down the ladder. She landed on the plant floor, letting out a cry as her knees struggled to bend with the impact.
“Bit, stop!” Wic called from the top of the ladder.
Bit barely heard him, but she recognized the words even through the din of the plant. She grabbed her stolen handgun from the back of her trousers and squeezed the trigger. It ricocheted off the ladder’s handrail and planted itself in the ceiling. Wic jumped, shaking the hand that had been her target. Bit didn’t stay around to find out if she had actually hit him.
She turned and ran into the labyrinth of machinery. At first, she couldn’t tell what they were making, until at last she rounded a corner and saw pieces nearing the finish line. If Bit had to guess, she thought they were making some portion of a spaceship’s airlock. Bit recognized it from a portion of the Lenore’s own airlock, though these looked far more high-tech.
Jumping onto the conveyer belt, Bit scanned the plant, looking for an exit. All she could see was more machinery. Whatever they were making took a number of steps—few of them done by actual people.
No wonder no one can find a job, she thought as she jumped off the other side of the conveyer belt.
“Bit!” Wic screamed from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder to spot Wic tiptoeing on the conveyor belt, doing his best not to disrupt the pieces. He jumped off just before the belt slipped under another machine. Bit turned back and ran as fast as her knee would allow through the narrow walkway. She dodged the first worker she had seen. He was garbed from head to foot in white with protective gloves and booties over his feet, along with a white cap over his hair.
“Hey! You canna be here,” he yelled at her.
Bit ignored him and squeezed past, determined not to thrust him into the spinning belt. Once past, she retrieved her gun again. This was ending, once and for all.
At the next turn in the belt, she climbed back onto it and rode the contraption around the bend and toward another machine. The ride gave her knee a rest and chance for her to look, once again, for an exit. As she looked, the belt dragged her into a new section of the plant, where large metal boxes rose up along the sides of the belt, blocking her ability to jump down.
“Oh, shit,” she mumbled as she glanced over her shoulder.
Wic squatted behind her, his own handgun pulled free. She didn’t hesitate but fired blindly at him. He ducked as the round bounced off another piece of metal, pinging a few times before burying itself into some soft portion of the plant. Being a stolen gun, it wasn’t loaded with flechettes like her crew’s guns.
Bit looked toward the front of the belt. A bend was approaching and she hoped to be free to exit the belt once past the bend. She picked up a piece of raw metal off the belt, using it as a shield before firing at Wic again.
“Stop shooting,” he ordered.
“Stop chasing me,” she replied before looking toward the front just as she rounded the curve.
The metal walls continued, blocking her in, and the belt rolled into a machine that made a horrible hissing noise.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she screamed as she tried to run toward Wic; the gangster was a smaller danger than being crushed by a machine. “Who made up this plant?”
Wic reached her side within seconds and took one look at the machine before grabbing her arm and dragging her up the belt. But no matter how fast they ran, they never seemed to make much progress. Bit glanced up the confining metal walls, looking for handholds. The walls or boxes or whatever were perfectly smooth.
“It’s like they built this just for us,” cried Wic before he tripped over one of the metal pieces, taking them both to their knees.
Bit screamed in pain, coming down hard on her bruised knee.
“Leave me,” she said, perfectly aware of the hypocrisy; after all, she had just fired on him. “I can’t run.”
Wic hesitated a moment, his eyes flicking to the stomping machine before releasing her arm and racing up the belt. Bit watched as he tripped once before racing around the bend in the belt. She turned back to see her death chomping the belt and its metal offerings.
From her position sprawled across the belt, she could see into the machine. Three slabs pressed down into the belt and its carefully placed metal bits. The first heated the metal in an instant, the second appeared to mold it, and the third appeared to cool the metal, though she couldn’t figure out how.
Bit pulled her legs up, forcing her stiff, swollen knee to bend despite the intense pain. She made herself as small as possible and wedged herself between two pieces of unmolded metal. Ducking her head, she forced her eyes open as she passed into the machine. She watched the first clamp come down on the metal on her left before raising up over her head.
Heat flowed all around her, and Bit felt her lungs tighten in her chest as she struggled to breathe. Sweat poured from her skin, making her clothing stick to her skin. The clamp came down on her right, pressing into the next piece of metal. As it rose, it grazed her skin. Bit screamed as she flinched away, her left hip touching the glowing metal. Her scream intensified and the second clamp came down, reshaping the metal and missing her hip by centimeters.
Despite the pain, Bit forced herself to huddle into her tight ball again as she passed under the second clamp. So far, it was working, but she had to hold still. The second clamp came down on her other side. Bit’s body began to shake as more sweat rushed from her pores. She wanted to cry, but she was already dehydrated.
As she shifted into the last portion of the machine, she felt a waft of cool air coming from the third clamp. It came down on her left, stopping just short of the glowing piece of metal. Frozen air blasted from the third clamp, skipping across her skin. She screamed again, the cold more intense than anything she had ever felt. The sweat on the left side of her body froze to her skin.
The clamp rose to reveal a finished piece of metal. It was still warm, but it would hold its shape. The belt dragged her under the clamp before it came down again. She tried to crawl over the leading piece of metal before the third clamp blasted air again, but she was too slow. Freezing air swept over her feet, the back of her legs, and her rear end. More sweat flas
h froze on her skin.
The belt emerged from the machine, taking her with it. The belt had taken her back around to the beginning. For a split second, Bit wondered what exactly the layout of the plant was. She was completely turned around as she rolled off the belt, making a wet, painful splat on the cement floor. Thin sheets of frozen sweat broke off her body and shattered against the concrete.
Through the various noises of the machinery, she heard Wic calling for her, as though he was also lost and trying to find his way to the outlet. Bit wanted to do nothing but lie on the hard cement flooring, but she couldn’t. She rolled onto her hands and one knee before pushing herself up onto her feet.
There, just a few feet away from her, was a ladder leading back up into the catwalk systems. Bit nearly cried out with relief. She frowned, scanning the machinery. Had she really come full circle, or was it a different ladder? She stopped worrying about it and limped toward it. Cold fire burned her hip and arm. She glanced down to see a large hole burned in her trousers, revealing blistered flesh. Her arm looked no better.
One conveyor belt blocked her way. She dropped to her good knee and crawled under it, no longer willing to risk going over. On the other side, she stopped in front of the ladder, eyeing the distance. Her body was ready to collapse, but she had to keep going.
“You there,” called a voice. “How you get in?”
Bit waved at the second worker, also dressed in white, trying to get them to be silent for fear Wic would hear them. Finally, she gave up as the local began cursing at her in a language she didn’t understand. She began her agonizing climb up the ladder, one rung at a time.
The worker continued to curse at her, the tone changing as they took in her injuries—or at least she assumed that was the reason. She was near the top when she heard another voice join in.
“Bit! Oh, my… How did…”
Bit ignored him, though she could hear his voice drawing nearer. The worker’s voice changed in pitch again, and Bit assumed he had spotted Wic and his weapon. She reached the top of the ladder, lying on her back as she took deep breaths. Her limbs shook with fatigue and her breathing was raspy. She needed to rest, but she couldn’t do it here.
Mayhem and Mutiny Page 13
