¤ ¤ ¤
There were puddles of water on the cave floor when Moire landed the scout, and traces of windblown debris. She didn’t see any obvious signs of damage to the gear or supplies stacked in the cave, so maybe they’d been lucky. Yet another reason to start building as soon as possible.
“Guess this planet has weather after all. I was beginning to wonder,” Moire commented, unstrapping.
“What’s weather?” Alan wanted to know.
Ennis grimaced. “In this case, lots of water falling from the sky.” He was waiting for her to leave the cockpit, glancing up and then away. She still wasn’t sure how to deal with what was happening to them, and it looked like he didn’t know either. Better not to push it. Especially with Alan around to take notes.
“How did the water get up there?”
Moire grinned and left the scout. Smart as he was, she suspected Ennis would run out of answers quicker than Alan would run out of questions.
The cave seemed unusually empty of people, with most of the crew still out in the sargasso. Where were all the Created? She frowned, looking around. After a search she found Harvey Felden toward the back of the cave, muttering as he disemboweled a crate of small components, scattering packing material everywhere.
“Why in the name of humanity couldn’t you take the time to list what kind of communication equipment you put in here, Menehune? Twenty–five, twenty–six….”
“Where is everybody?”
Harvey jerked upright. “Captain! You’re back! I thought that was Kilberton coming in.” He stood stiffly, grimacing. “They’re out at one of the islands, mostly. Madele is here, with the injured and the ones who can’t walk yet.”
Moire closed her eyes, hoping there was a nice, reasonable explanation. “Injured?”
“One broken leg, couple sets of cracked ribs, a dislocated elbow, concussions here and there, and an assortment of sprains, bruises, and lacerations,” Harvey recited, looking down his nose disapprovingly.
“What the hell have you been doing?” Moire asked, stunned. “Did the Created act up or something?”
“We were doing just fine until Kilberton showed up with George and his group. Seemed kinda anxious to get them off the ship, which should have made me suspicious. Aren’t on the ground five minutes before they convince the rest of the kids to play something they call Hunt the Pirates in and around the supply crates. We don’t have them latched down or anything here.”
“I get the picture. Somebody knocked some crates over.” Moire sighed. “Could have been worse. At least they didn’t have their weapons.”
“You gave them weapons?” Harvey shrieked. “Are you crazy?”
Probably, but it seems to work. “It made sense at the time. Did Kilberton tell you what happened at the sargasso?”
Harvey shook his head. “Didn’t have time to tell me much. Soon as he dropped he started flying this Kostas guy around.”
“Right.” Moire glanced about, making sure nobody else was in earshot. “We found survivors this trip. Two of them. One of them isn’t human.” Harvey’s face went slack with astonishment, and she nodded. “Exactly. That’s just for you to know right now. Rest of the salvage crew knows, but they’re still at the sargasso. George and company were there—we tried to keep it quiet, but you know how they are. I doubt they understand what the crabs are anyway, so that should be OK. But nobody else, got that?”
He moistened his lips. “Got it,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Captain, what are you gonna do with, uh, with whatever?”
“Hand him over to Fleet, like a good citizen. And his ship. We’re working on that. Where’s Kostas?”
“He wanted to get a better look at the geology around here, so I found him something he could use as a ground scanner. Didn’t know about handing him a gun, so I made George go with him instead.”
Moire frowned. “Did you at least give him a commlink?”
“Sure. Restricted, though.”
She scanned the code listing on her commlink, finding the only restricted code and selecting it.
“Kostas here,” came the gruff voice.
“It’s Roberts. Where are you?”
“Out by the cliff. I’ve got some questions for you. I’m coming back.” The connection closed.
Moire raised her eyebrows. He sounded remarkably curt. What had set him off this time? I hope George didn’t try to blow him up or anything. “The other Created…where are they again?”
Harvey shrugged his thin shoulders. “Loaded them up and took them to one of the islands. At least they're away from the equipment.”
She should have thought about that before someone had gotten hurt. What was she going to do with them? They needed teachers, people to take care of them. Moire walked to the mouth of the cave, feeling depressed. Not long after, Kostas came stomping up the trail, followed by a sorrowful George.
“Guess I can see why you want to keep this quiet,” Kostas said, waving a hand at the bay with the pseudotrees. “Worth its weight in gold, you might say.” He gave a tight grin. It was so unlike him Moire started to worry. Then she noticed his hands. They were badly scratched, dried blood around the nails.
“What happened to you?” Moire asked, pointing.
He looked down at his hands. “I got mad,” he said slowly. “Didn’t take me too long to figure out something wasn’t right with some of your people. Acting funny, you know?”
Oh yes. I know.
“They seem scared of people. Don’t want to talk, most of them. George isn’t so bad. Asks lots of questions about what I’m doing, and thinks about it. So it’s not that they’re stupid, right? Then I start asking him questions.” The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “What he tells me, somebody been doin’ horrible things to him and the rest. Not too clear on the details about who and where and why, but it’s enough. I got so mad I went out in the storm and all and just bashed a rock against a boulder until I couldn’t lift it anymore.”
Kostas leaned closer. “He wouldn’t tell me much, but he told me you got them out. So you tell me. Who are these goddamned bastards, so’s I can rip their heads off? And what did they do to these people, that they got to have their names on tags around their necks so they can remember 'em?”
George clutched his nametag, eyes wide, and edged away from Kostas’s red–faced fury.
“They remember their names just fine, now that they have them,” Moire said finally. “They’re the other reason I need your help. The people I rescued them from will be looking for me. That’s why I want the facilities underground or hidden as much as possible. You did get the plans, right?”
Kostas nodded, looking bewildered. “But what’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them, they just look older than they are. George, here, we think he’s around seven.”
Color drained from Kostas’s horrified face. “How?”
Moire took a deep breath. “We’re not exactly sure how they did it. But they did it to get a lot of compliant workers as fast as possible.”
“They still doing it?”
“They only had one facility that we know of, and we took care of it. Permanently.”
“Good.” His face was savage. “Now tell me….”
The sound of running footsteps made Moire turn. Alan was coming directly for them, looking frightened. “Madele says come help. She’s crying and yelling!”
There was a lot of noise coming from the back of the cave, now that she noticed. Standing next to an irate Kostas it had just blended in. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”
“I think maybe she fell. Madele was helping her walk.”
Moire’s internal disaster meter dropped a tick. Madele wasn’t hurt, but one of her charges was.
The impromptu medical ward was the center of the storm. Madele was trying to subdue a crying, flailing Created lying on the floor. Moire felt cold, watching what looked exactly like a full–grown woman act like a newborn infant. It was all there, j
ust in the wrong shape. The awkward flailing movements, the endless, wordless cry of pain and confusion, the helplessness.
“We need to get her calmed down, or she’s going to hurt herself,” Madele gasped, grabbing an arm before it hit her in the face.
“You tried talking?” Kostas said bluntly.
“We rescued some when they were just…finished,” Moire said quietly. “She’s only a few months old. She doesn’t understand words.”
She watched him carefully, wary of his sudden temper. Kostas looked at the Created, his face working with some strong emotion. He turned suddenly to George, standing behind Moire.
“Get me a blanket. Quickly.” George darted away and returned, holding a blanket at the end of an outstretched arm.
Moving with steady assurance, Kostas nudged Madele away and scooped up the Created in his powerful arms, wrapped in the blanket. The Created struggled and cried even more, but he ignored her, making soothing sounds and gently rocking her in his arms.
Moire was impressed. He didn’t seem any more inconvenienced than if she had been a regular size baby. The Created stared at Kostas with wide eyes as he made nonsense noises in a gentle voice at odds with his size and strength.
Eventually the crying slowed and stopped. “So what you looking at, huh?” Kostas said softly, glancing at their gaping faces. “You long–haul spacers got some gaps in your education, looks like.”
“We’d appreciate any advice you can give us,” Moire said dryly. “You seem to have experience. Have you made your decision?”
“Hell yes, I made my decision.” The Created made a small noise, and he lowered his voice. “Get me back so we can get the crew and start digging. You’ll need some weapons platforms, you know. We can’t get you the guns, but we can build everything else.”
Moire did a quick scan. Ennis was nowhere in sight. “I’ll get the guns.” Somehow.
CHAPTER 13
FROM THE OTHER SIDE
Lorai shook her head. She hadn’t seen so many people in one place in a long time. Standing around gawking wasn’t going to impress anybody, and it sure wasn’t going to find the person she was looking for. And how was she going to do that here? Not like she could go to Mammachandra’s and ask.
“You are deciding where to start making trouble, no?” One of the crew of the ship that had given her a lift from Bone was grinning at her. “You better be good with that gun, you play cards here like you did with us.”
“I took you like you tried to take me, ya leaky gasket. Stop pissing air. Hey, Piotr. How’dya find somebody in this place? Guy says meet him at this station but he didn’t say where,” Lorai said, starting early on her lying practice.
“He is nice, honest with no angry peoples looking for him, he might be in dock register. But why you want to see such a boring person?”
“'Cause he tries so hard to reform me,” she said with a slow grin to encourage the wrong assumptions. “Really puts his back into it, ya know?”
Piotr opened his eyes wide. “For you, there is no hope. Send him to me, eh? I am very much in need of such reformation.”
“Too true. I’ll tell him you’re available, when I’m done with him. Where’s this dock register hide out?”
Following Piotr’s directions, she plowed her way through the crowd. How did station people stand it? There was hardly room to move.
She wasn’t really expecting Harrington to be listed in the crew or passenger lists were in the register, and he wasn’t. But close to the bottom of the screen listing innumerable Hernandezes and Iversons was a name she recognized. Henri Ibakate, captain of Kolari. She’d dealt with him several times over the years dropping cargo on Bone.
It might be worth checking him out. Henri wasn’t a chatty person, but he was honest and wouldn’t spread the word she’d been asking questions. He might even be willing to ask questions for her, if she made nice.
She noted down the dock and level on an old pennable textsheet, called up the station level directory, headed for the main sector of the station, then turned back to the kiosk and pulled up the directory again so she could find out what level she was on now. It was so much simpler dirtside—she could see where she wanted to go.
She had to push her way through the streams of people to get to the docking area. Everybody seemed to be going the other way. She saw one person with a thick reconstructive bandage on his arm, then two more injured people. When she really started looking, at least a third of the crowd had something patched up or traces of bloodglue visible, and everybody looked as limp as a used filter wipe.
Two of Kolari’s crew were standing outside the dock hatch, carefully watching the people standing about.
“No transit or crew openings,” one said when she walked up, like he’d been saying it a lot and getting real tired of it.
“Don’t want any,” Lorai said. “Is Captain Ibakate around?”
“Waddya want him for?” the crewman asked skeptically.
“Need to ask him something. Name’s Lorai Grimaldi; I flew freight for him couple times at Bone. If he’s busy, I can leave a message.”
He gave her a dubious look, not saying anything for a minute. “I’ll check,” he said grudgingly, and went back to the wall comm. After a brief discussion, he jerked his thumb at the door. He looked sour.
As she followed the signs to the bridge, Lorai wondered how she was going to ask for the information she needed without leaving tracks that could be followed. She needed a believable story; one with just a few lies she could keep straight.
“Lorai! I would not have expected to see you here.” Henri Ibakate was just like she’d remembered him—tall, thin, and black as night. He had an air of dignity, too, more like an Inner Systems captain than a real Fringer. She was startled when he called her by her first name. He must be pleased to see her. “What are they doing without you on Bone?” A gesture invited her to take a seat in his office. Too clean and neat, but that was Ibakate for you.
She shrugged. “Things have changed. Not much cargo for me to run. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you for a job,” she said quickly, seeing his face close up. “I gotta find one eventually, but right now I’m looking for somebody.” And why did she need to find this person? “I owe him money, see, and he thinks I’m still on Bone. Don’t want him going there and finding me gone.”
“I see.” He looked worried. “That could be difficult right now. Everything here is in a state of confusion.”
“Yeah, what’s going on? You got guards at your hatch, people wandering around looking like practice day at Medtech Central….”
Ibakate’s lips thinned. His air of tense worry increased, and that was something new. He didn’t get worked up for nothing. “Criminy station was attacked,” Ibakate said with careful precision. “It was damaged so badly they are evacuating everyone. No one knows if the crabs will return there, or attack this station next. Many of the refugees were brought here. My ship carried several hundred of them.”
That certainly put her problems in perspective good and hard. She might have been close to freezing and/or starving on Bone, but no alien nasties were trying to blow her up.
He sighed. “I am also trying to find someone. My cousin was on that station but I was not able to find her there. No one I have contacted here knows of her. And I cannot return to Criminy, endangering my crew and ship, only to look for her.”
“Thought you said everybody’s out. Maybe the ship she’s on went somewhere else?”
“Some emergency personnel stayed—and some others, to help. There was talk of attempting repairs. My cousin is with the local defense force, so she might still be there.”
Lorai shifted in her chair, uncomfortable. “I am real sorry to be bothering you with all this going on. I didn’t know. Just got off a ship today. If there’s anything I can do….”
“Thank you. Palmer is going back, and he promised to make inquiries there. Who are you looking for?”
“Name’s Neville Har
rington. Just let him know I’m looking for him to give him his money back, since I’m not on Bone anymore.”
Ibakate inclined his head. “I shall spread the word.”
Lorai rose and shook his hand. “Much obliged. I hope you find your cousin.”
Back on the docking level, Lorai couldn’t keep the forced cheerfulness in her face from draining out. She should never have taken the job, that was the painful truth. Damn guy could be anywhere. He could be right on this station and she wouldn’t be able to find him because she was just a dirtside shuttle pilot who had learned everything she knew about spy stuff from old trid episodes of Star Hunter.
She wanted a drink. No, bad idea. She’d promised Ren she’d do the job, and she was going to do it. She’d get drunk afterward. OK, so she was just a dumb shuttle pilot. What would she do if she needed a shuttle part? Find the company that made it, of course. So reporters had to…report to somebody, right?
It was easier going back to the central area of the station. She wasn’t fighting the flow of traffic, and it had thinned out a little. Or maybe she was getting used to it, a disturbing idea. On her way yet again to the kiosk, the metallic blue holosign of an InfoService store got her attention. Maybe she could ask them. They delivered all sorts of data, and sometimes even small items.
“Now this is interesting. You are the second person today to ask about sending to wireservices,” mused the guy at the counter. He had an amazing mustache, long and luxurious. Lorai had to force her attention away from wondering why he had grown it. “Wireservice posts aren’t common out here. Unless you are thinking of the circulars? They take regular mail, most of them.”
“No, this would be a wireservice. What do wireservice reporters do if they need to send something and they don’t have one of these post things?”
“Well, this guy—the one who wanted to know how to contact the wireservice? He used our secure data package. Verified ID both ends, source and destination info coded and confidential.” He looked at her expectantly. Something told her a secure data package wasn’t cheap.
Lorai felt her pulse jump. “This other person you mentioned—he was a wireservice reporter?”
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