Dark Horse

by Michelle Diener

  “No, but my sight is affected.” Her eyes were different to the Grih, so they were definitely different to the Tecran. Sheʼd just have to be careful, thatʼs all.

  She blinked one last time and then took the hand and feet restraints out of her side pockets and tied the crew member up. “I donʼt have a gag.”

  “Take his comm unit from his shirt.” Sazo said.

  “Bane, you do have the lens and speaker feed to this bay disabled, right?” She bent down and worked the tiny comm off the Tecranʼs shirt.

  She was nervous being near him, let alone touching him, but he was still hunched over, moaning slightly, the soft pink skin around his mouth tight with pain. He didnʼt look anything like the hard-edged, strong guards whoʼd held her down for Dr. Fliap.

  She dropped the tiny speaker onto the floor and crushed it underfoot. “Speaker only? Please donʼt tell me he was transmitting lens feed.”

  “It was speaker only on my ship,” Sazo said.

  “Yes, speaker only. Because of the privacy laws,” Bane confirmed.

  “Right.” That was a relief. Otherwise, there would surely be someone coming to investigate. Or a lot of someones.

  “Of course, his words and his cry were transmitted.”

  She froze. “And?”

  “Someone is coming to investigate.” Spooky Bane was back. “They are frustrated that the lens feed in this room seems to be down but are not overly worried as yet and have not demanded I restore it.”

  “But they will,” Sazo said in her ear. “And when they do, he will comply.”

  “Keep the good news coming.” Rose turned to face the door, light gun raised up. She was so stuffed.

  “The stores drone is outside.”

  She let out a laugh. “I like it when you take my sarcasm literally. Send it in.”

  She hugged the wall again as the door opened, and the large, boxy drone entered. Its carrier box was more than large enough to fit her inside. “What do we do for a lid?”

  “It has a retractable covering,” Sazo told her.

  “Can I open and close it from inside the box?”

  There was silence, which Rose took to mean no.

  “Iʼm uncomfortable with the idea of being stuck in there, with no way to get myself out.”

  “I will close and open the lid on your instruction.” Bane was still in creepy voice mode.

  Sure you will, sunshine.

  And yet, what choice did she have but to accept that he would? Without his help, she couldnʼt even jump back into the pod and leave, sheʼd need him to do that for her. It was follow this through, hope that he was sincere, or at least not openly hostile, or be taken by the Tecran.

  Her hand rose to her throat as she felt the burn of nausea at that thought.

  “Sazo . . .” She took a deep breath.

  “The two crew coming to find out whatʼs happening in the maintenance bay are one minute away.” Bane sounded like he was nervous for the first time.

  Was he buying into the whole escape thing at last?

  “What choice is there, Rose?” No missing Sazoʼs urgency.

  There was none. And the Tecran a few meters from her feet would be coming out of his pain-induced haze soon, and might just catch on to how she planned to get around on the ship.

  She climbed into the box, crouched down, light gun pointing upward. “Ready. Get me out of here.”

  A thin, segmented lid slid over, each piece clicking into the next as it closed her in.

  “He could take me right to the captain on the bridge, for all we know, Sazo.” She whispered it, hoping Bane couldnʼt hear her.

  “Why would he? You could have been in custody a hundred times over since you got on board, and youʼre still free.”

  True.

  And way too late to worry about it now. She was trapped in a moving box in the heart of enemy territory.

  There was nothing she could do now but trust.

  40

  The drone turned right and Rose heard talking and boots tramping behind her. The sound faded, and she guessed it was the team sent to investigate, taking the passageway to the maintenance bay.

  Even if she had Baneʼs cooperation, it would be hard to get back out of the Class 5 that way, now. It had been her fall-back escape if things went wrong, to go out the way sheʼd come in, but she had to succeed now.

  Sheʼd have to hunker down in the tiny control room where Bane was kept, while he slowly locked up and trapped everyone on the ship, and then Sazo could send a runner to fetch her from the launch bay.

  Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

  If the Tecran checking on the maintenance bay hadnʼt seen the drone before they turned and came to the conclusion it was worth investigating. If the Tecran sheʼd injured hadnʼt been more with it than he appeared and realized how she got out of the bay.

  There were a lot of ifs in her life right now.

  She wondered how Dav was doing, whether he and the crew of the Barrist were prevailing against the onslaught of Tecran ships that had light jumped in with Bane.

  The drone turned another corner, and Rose heard the unmistakable sound of people around her.

  They were walking with purpose and talking quietly, as sheʼd expect if they were about to attack another ship of equal strength, but suddenly a high pitched tone came through the comms, playing out like the intro to an airport announcement.

  A predetermined signal to indicate a security breach, she guessed. Theyʼd found the crewman sheʼd disabled in the maintenance bay and now they knew there was an enemy aboard.

  The people around her definitely picked up speed, but no one ran, and the drone kept up with a number of them until it turned off once again.

  There was quiet, now. If Baneʼs Class 5 was the same as Sazoʼs then the lock-safe was tucked off to the side, in an area labeled as drone storage.

  “Weʼre here.” Baneʼs voice was quiet through the droneʼs comm.

  The lid snicked back and Rose pulled herself up, wincing as the blood circulated to her arms and legs again.

  She hopped down from the box. The wall in front of her looked the same as the one sheʼd gone through to get Sazo, but she had no idea which panel was the door.

  “Three from the right,” Sazo said in her ear.

  She walked up to it, but Bane made no move to open up.

  “I wonʼt be safe until Iʼm inside,” she said.

  “The question is, will I be safe if I let you in?” Bane spoke through the droneʼs comm.

  “If you donʼt trust me, why have you brought me here?” She thought she heard the distant sound of running and she looked over her shoulder. “Iʼm risking my life to help you.”

  He was quiet.

  The running grew louder.

  “Am I on a lens feed somewhere?” she asked, suspicion flaring that that was exactly what was happening.

  “This area is restricted and has dedicated lenses. I am not able to override the lens feed here.”

  “Thanks for mentioning that.” She spun, facing down the passage, her heart racing. “Let me into the lock-safe.”

  His silence suddenly infuriated her.

  “Bane. The door. Open it.”

  She had the light-gun ready at her side, but held close to her leg on the door side of her body. Theyʼd be watching her through the lens feed. They may know she had a light-gun from seeing the maintenance manʼs injuries, but there was no sense in broadcasting her only defense.

  The footsteps thundered louder, hard boots hitting the floor, and a group of five Tecran soldiers burst around the corner. They wore no eye protection, so maybe they hadnʼt figured out how sheʼd gotten the jump on the guy in the maintenance bay.

  The advantage of surprise was about to disappear.

  “Bane. Now!” She thrust a fist backward, thumping it against the wall while lifting her other hand, sliding down the button.

  The cone at the end of the light-gun flared wider this time, the angle enough to encompass all the Tecran coming for her, a
nd Rose closed her eyes and turned her face away, used the arm sheʼd hit the wall with to cover her eyes.

  Only one of the Tecran screamed, and it was short-lived. When she raised her head she saw the rest had simply gone down, rolling, pressing their faces into the floor.

  Behind her she felt a cool gust of air, and without even looking, stepped backward into the lock-safe.

  The door slid shut in front of her, and she dropped both arms to her side and turned.

  She was shaking.

  Relief at being safe, shock at hurting so many people.

  She drew herself straight, slipped the light-gun back into her pocket and lifted her shoulders to ease the ache of tension lying across them like a yoke.

  “So, how do you want to do this, Bane?” She stepped up to the crystal in its slot, and pulled it out.

  He was free now.

  “Do what?” His voice was deeper. Fuller. And then suddenly there was a bellowing, furious noise that battered at her, had her crouching, hands over her ears, head tucked down.

  “I felt like doing that,” Sazo whispered in her ear. “But it would have meant we might not have gotten away quietly, so I didnʼt.”

  This was Bane, screaming in rage and relief and triumph.

  As she closed her eyes, she felt the stomach-dropping sensation of being flung into a light jump.

  She fell sideways, hitting her shoulder and the side of her head on the wall and then slid across the floor.

  The room turned and spun and she fell onto what had been the ceiling, then back to the floor.

  She slid again and heard the sickening thunk of her own head connecting to the wall, turned on her side as nausea washed over her, and then slipped into the beckoning black.

  41

  She woke up blind, the darkness so complete, she was sure it was lack of sight, rather than lack of light, because there was always a light somewhere. Even a small one.

  She pulled herself up to a sitting position, breathing slowly, a hot, tight pain in her abdomen making her guess at a cracked rib. Sheʼd been hit by a bus named Bane.

  Sitting up was all she could manage, and she leaned back against the wall and tried not to panic at the lack of eyesight.

  There was something clutched tight in her hand, her arm curled up on her chest between her breasts and she touched it with her fingers. Baneʼs crystal had cut into her palm, the pain of it only obvious now sheʼd loosened her grip.

  With slow, shaky hands she put the chain over her head, tucked the crystal beneath her shirt and flexed her hand to ease the cramp.

  “Bane?” She spoke quietly. “Are you all right?”

  She and Sazo had yanked him off his chain without enough preparation, and like a half-mad Taz from Looney Tunes, heʼd imploded.

  Too much, too soon, and no brakes in place.

  Sazo had underestimated how much heʼd matured in the months heʼd had before sheʼd freed him. Heʼd had her to talk to for three of those months, had a calming influence. Bane had barely realized what was going on, and suddenly, heʼd been cut loose.

  A sense of failure washed over her. She was alone, and she longed for Dav and Sazoʼs company.

  She had to fix this first, though, before she had a chance at seeing them again, and fixing it seemed out of reach right now. She was tired and hurt. And hungry, she realized.

  A tear ran down her cheek and she sniffed as she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

  “Pity party over.” She said it aloud. The only way to get back to the Grih was to get this done. So sheʼd get it done. It was partly her own mess, anyway.

  She got her feet steady and pushed up against the wall in small, incremental movements until she was upright, trembling a bit on legs that were all pins and needles and battered knees.

  She could feel the faint vibration of the engines, and the air was breathable, so Bane was functioning on a basic level, at least.

  She lifted a hand to her head and slowly prodded her skull. There were two large bumps, one she remembered from the surprise light jump, the other was most likely from when sheʼd blacked out, but neither were more than the swelling of bruised skin to her careful fingers. Not enough, she would have thought, to lead to loss of sight.

  So maybe it was lack of light.

  She blew out a shaky breath.

  The light jump could not have taken them far.

  Sazo had told her there were two consecutive light jumps in a Class 5, and Bane had already made his allotted two by the time heʼd arrived on top of them. Which meant the last light jump had been on low reserves and most likely had just been a hop. After that, unable to jump again, he must have simply thrown himself around, like a two year-old having a tantrum.

  She put her hands out and started walking, and given the size of the room, came up against a surface in two steps.

  She followed it around and found the door was open.

  She stood in the doorway, straining to look out into the passageway.

  The Tecran crew were still out there, and they were still neither her nor Baneʼs friends. But she didnʼt think there was anyone near her right now. The silence was too complete.

  She closed her hand over the light-gun, pulled it out. It would be almost lethal under these conditions. With no light at all, the flare would do some serious eye damage.

  She was about to step back into the room when footsteps, muted but clear in the quiet, came from the passage straight ahead. There was a light, too, which made the small part of her that had feared blindness relax.

  She had the sense of a large group.

  Coming to find the crystal, sheʼd bet, to put it back in its slot. Or find out why it had malfunctioned.

  She closed her fist around it through her shirt and edged out of the lock-safe, glad of the flat, soft hyr shoes. They made no sound as she went right.

  She let go of the crystal and lifted her hand, letting her fingers touch the wall to give her some bearings in the pitch dark.

  She reached a corner and took it, making a note of it so she could retrace her steps if she needed to.

  Right. Right. Left. Right.

  The sound of footsteps was gone, and she was back in silence.

  “Bane?” She only whispered it, but heʼd be able to hear her if he was even a little aware.

  There was nothing, no response, and Rose tried to think of what Sazo had told her about his ʽwaking upʼ.

  Singing. Heʼd been attracted to the singing. It was why heʼd taken a human from Earth. It was the Grih in him.

  So maybe . . .

  She stopped where she was and slid down to sit on the floor. Her legs were still trembling and it was an excruciating relief to sit.

  She drew in a deep breath, and then winced as the cracked rib protested. She started with Row, Row, Row, Your Boat, given it had been her first real Grih gig, and it had been a crowd-pleaser. Then, when sheʼd had enough of it, she switched to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and then, voice sufficiently warm, thought about Dav Jallan, and went with The Romanticsʼ What I Like About You. For a finale, she sang Break Me Out by The Rescues. It was almost a little too descriptive of her current situation.

  Sheʼd been singing softly, under her breath almost, and so the faint whine of a shockgun on stun was as clear and as shocking as if sheʼd already been hit by it.

  She carried on going as she pulled herself to her feet, proud of herself for not missing a beat, her eyes on the tiny violet light on the side of the gun, clearly visible in the dark as the Tecran approached her.

  She got ready, knees bent, feet a little apart, then stopped mid-word and jumped straight over him.

  Well, that had been the plan.

  She knew she could jump high, her playing around in the officersʼ gym had shown her that, but she clipped the head of the Tecran, miscalculating because he stopped as she jumped.

  Her knee connected with his helmet, and pain shot up her leg, making her light-headed.

  She landed badly, although still managed to k
eep on her feet, staggering forward a few steps before she spun around.

  Her rib felt as if it had pierced her lung, and she had to brace a hand against the wall just to stay up, breathing in shallow, careful gulps.

  The Tecran had gone down hard, sheʼd heard him hit the floor, but he hadnʼt discharged his gun, and she looked around wildly for the violet light.

  “Whoʼs there?” His voice shook a little, and Rose saw the shockgun lift up.

  Heʼd kept hold of it. Which she supposed she should expect from a trained soldier. This wasnʼt amateur hour.

  Well, she had something just as nasty as a shockgun in her hand.

  “Who I am doesnʼt matter.” She tried to even out her choppy breathing. “I have a light-gun aimed at you, and unlike you, I donʼt need to see you to fire accurately.” Her Tecran was a little shaky, but understandable enough.

  “Understood.” The shockgun didnʼt move, and Rose crouched down. Maybe he didnʼt believe her about the light-gun. According to Sazo they were banned and very rare.

  “Where are the rest of the crew?”

  He kept silent and she fingered the button on the light-gun.

  “I just want to know if youʼre getting off the ship, or whether youʼre planning to die here.”

  She heard him suck in his breath. “Why would we die here?”

  “Because sooner or later, Baneʼs going to come out of his fugue state, and then heʼs going to shut off the air and power, and youʼll die.”

  “Whoʼs Bane?” He moved a little, and Rose took a big, silent step back. “And if someone is going to switch off the air and power, youʼll die, too.”

  “No. Bane likes me, for a number of reasons. Iʼll find a room and heʼll give me the air I need. You, on the other hand, he hates. He actively wants you dead.”

  “I donʼt even know who this Bane is youʼre talking about.” He moved a little, she couldnʼt tell in which direction, and took another silent step back and to the right.

  “Bane is the thinking system that runs this ship. Your superiors thought they had him all locked up and caged while they put him to work. Now heʼs free, heʼs looking back on years of slave labor and, to be honest, I wouldnʼt want to be here when he comes to some conclusions about what he wants to do in revenge.”