by Elle Casey
“Is it your former relationship that is keeping you from getting your answers?” Beltz asks.
“No. We didn’t have a relationship. Not like you’re suggesting.”
“I was not suggesting anything. You said you knew him before. If you were matched, I assume that means you were in training together. It is the nature of that training to form bonds of loyalty, at least.”
“Fine. We had a friendship. And I violated that friendship when I agreed to fight him. So we have some bad blood between us, but I don’t think he wants to kill me.” As I say this, I realize this is why I haven’t pushed him for answers; I don’t feel like I have the right. I want him to come to me of his own free will and tell me what I need to know. Maybe that’s naive, but it’s how it needs to be right now.
“How is he even alive?” Kaiholo asks. “Losers in the pit are killed. That’s well known, even out here among the Havenots.”
I shrug. “I don’t exactly know. He said something about MI and having friends. I assume someone smuggled him out and fixed him up.” I frown as I remember something someone said to me. “Maybe there’s a place where all the losers or rejects go, I don’t know.”
Everyone around the table starts exchanging glances with one another. I assume they’ll explain themselves, but then nothing happens. Everyone just looks at me, like I’m supposed to say something.
“What?” I look at Romulus first. He seems like the nicest guy here. “Why is everyone staring at me?” I glance down at my chest really quickly, praying my boobs aren’t hanging out or something. It would be just my luck to have my zipper malfunctioning right now.
“Alana?” He faces our hostess. “Would you care to elucidate?”
I grin at his use of her fancy word. We’ll see how much she likes being in the hotseat.
She rests both arms casually on the edges of her chair. Any trace of humor she might have been harboring is gone now.
“We have reason to believe that there is a group out here in the galaxy somewhere who is systematically taking individuals who have been ejected from the OSG and … recruiting them.”
My eyes bug out. “Recruiting them? For what?”
She shrugs. “We don’t know. We’re not even sure we are correct. We’ve seen signs …” She glances at her friends before continuing. “Your story about your engineer is not a surprise to us.”
“You knew about him?” I can’t believe it! Am I the only one stumbling in the dark or what?
“Not about him specifically, but that there are many shadows walking among us.”
I rub my stomach as it rolls over. “That’s not good.”
“Why do you say that?” Kaiholo asks.
I frown at him, wondering if he’s just messing with me. But he seems genuinely curious and serious.
“Because,” I explain, “it’s not natural.”
He glances at my arms, visible now because I’ve rolled my sleeves up to try and air my skin out.
“Just because you choose to eschew MI for your scars, it doesn’t mean others must do the same.”
I laugh at that. “Are you suggesting that covering up some superficial scars is the same thing as uploading your consciousness into another body? Because … ,“ I laugh again, “damn. That’s just crazy talk right there.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He looks to our temporary leader. “What say you, Alana?”
She shrugs. “I don’t judge the lengths to which others will go to survive. I’ve never been faced with certain death, with the extinguishing of my life force. I can’t be sure what I would choose to do if I were given a choice at the moment of my passing.”
“I am happy to live forever,” Beltz says. “And could you imagine?” He’s becoming more animated by the second. “Having a brain that carries the knowledge of a person who has survived for centuries? What a mind!”
I shake my head in disappointment. I thought all these people at the table meant four times the brain power than I had alone. “The natural order of things exists for a reason,” I say. “Mess with that, and you mess with the very fabric of life. In case any of you have forgotten our history, it hasn’t always gone very well for us when people have done that. It’s the reason we’re all sitting here in the Dark and why our feet will never touch our homeland again. It’s because of people saying things exactly like he just said.” I jab a finger at Beltz.
He frowns. “Ach. You compare genetic engineering with a simple copying of neural pathways? It’s not the same.”
“Who’s doing all this?” I ask, anxious to move past a philosophical argument and onto a subject that will actually result in some answers. “Who runs this rebel group or whatever they are?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Alana says, “but anyone we’ve talked to, who walks as a shadow, calls them the Outlanders.”
A big old, gnarly shiver moves up and down my spine, making my skin turn bumpy. “That’s what Tam called them too.”
She nods. “They credit the Outlanders with saving their lives. Giving them a second chance at life.”
I nod. “Yep. Got the recruitment speech already.”
“What is your plan for this engineer?” Beltz asks.
“I have to keep him on for now. His brother refuses to work without him in the engine room alongside him, and my ship can’t afford to be without engineers.”
“We can help you, but I do not have the personnel to give for a permanent solution,” Beltz says.
“No, I’m not asking for any of your people. Tam and Gus can handle it, I just …,” I shake my head, “… hate the idea of a shadow being on my ship at all.”
“Why?” Kaiholo asks.
“Why?” I look at him like he’s crazy. “Because. I already told you why. It’s not natural.”
He holds up his hands. “None of this is natural.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that argument before too.” I change my focus to the group. “Listen, we’re not going to agree on what’s right and what’s wrong about our world as far as shadowing goes. I’d just like to figure out what I’m supposed to do as my part in the Alliance. And like I said, full disclosure, I’ve got a target on my back now. As you know, we used the sleephammer to put a whammy on the crew of the Warship Baltimore, so they’re probably looking for us right now. And when they find us, we’re probably screwed. They won’t find the disk … it’s frozen in a chicken and they’ll never think to look there, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re being hunted and we can’t hide forever.” This is the first time I’ve said aloud what I’ve been avoiding thinking about in my head. Using the schlafhammer was a necessary evil, but it’s going to bite me on the ass hard. I pretty much just delayed my execution.
“That is a problem,” Alana says. She looks at the others. “What’s our plan for this?”
“Blame it on the Outlanders.” Beltz nods at his brilliance. And I have to admit, when I hear his idea, it’s the first time I’ve felt a spark of hope where this situation is concerned. “The OSG does not know of our schlafhammer. Let them believe the Outlanders have come and taken them out with a technology they have.”
“That assumes they’ll even believe the Outlanders exist,” I say, laughing at his naivety. So much for a good idea. “They’re a myth, in case you hadn’t heard.”
He glares at me. “They are not a myth, and the OSG knows it. Believe me. They know a lot more than they ever shared with a tiny girl like you.” He turns his attention to the group. “I believe the incident with Tremblay was an isolated one, and thanks to that crazy bitch over there, we no longer have to worry about that Captain Bob sharing the information. Tremblay is not likely to tell anyone else about it, because he wants the device for himself.”
“He could tell the OSG,” I say. “Try to make a payday out of the information.”
“That could be a problem,” Romulus adds.
“We would need to know what he has said to others and what his plans are,” Kaiholo says.
“Okay, so that se
ttles it,” Alana says. “One of us needs to get to this Tremblay person and find out what he knows, who he’s talked to, and whether he’s made any moves to barter the information with the OSG.”
“He must be neutralized,” Beltz says, his face going red. “Regardless.”
“But we must find out what he’s done, first,” Alana says, glaring at Beltz.
“Who’s going to do that?” I ask. I know my crew is capable, but it would probably only work if Tremblay didn’t know that we floated Captain Bob. “We could do it, if you want. Go back to the station where we were, dock in, and wait for him to try and board again.”
Kaiholo is nodding. Romulus joins him.
“Not alone,” Alana says. “You’ll need backup.”
“Fine. I don’t mind having backup. I don’t mind being someone else’s backup either. Whatever you think is best.” I look specifically at Alana. “No offense, but I think you’ll have more luck than anyone else here at the table with getting Tremblay’s attention.”
She smiles. “No offense taken. I agree with you.” She jerks her head in Beltz’s direction. “There’s nothing pretty about that guy.”
Beltz hisses out some air, annoyed at her insult as I’m sure he was supposed to be.
I keep my mouth shut, but I don’t agree with her assessment at all. He is pretty if you like the hardcore, rock-solid, take no prisoners type like I do. He’s hot, in fact. I wipe the sweat from my brow.
“Then it’s settled,” Romulus says. “The Osiris and the Anarchy are to head back to that station.”
“Centurion 4,” I add.
“Centurion 4. They go there and attract this Tremblay person to the Anarchy, and then manage him.”
“And manage does not mean have sex with,” Beltz says to Alana. “It means find out what information he has …”
“I know what it means!” she shouts.
“Trust me,” I say, heading off the argument about to fly around our heads, “no one is going to want to sleep with this guy. He’s heinously ugly.”
“That does not stop her,” Beltz says, flipping his hand toward the beautiful woman on his right. The beautiful angry woman. “She will have sex with a goat if it suits her.”
I don’t think anyone saw Alana’s next move coming. One second she’s sitting in her chair grinding her teeth together, and the next she’s launching herself over the table at him with her fingernails out and ready to draw blood. She gets a good swipe across his cheek too, before he has her wrists in his grip and he’s dragging her onto the floor at his feet.
“Hey! Hey!” Kaiholo is huffing and puffing trying to get out of his seat, but I can see he’ll never get there before bones are broken.
Romulus is frozen in his chair with his mouth hanging open.
I see my opportunity, and take it without even thinking twice. It really pains me to do it, but I have to stop this party before it gets too out of hand. I seriously want more of that punch out there in the other room.
Chapter Twenty-One
LEAPING FROM MY SEAT, I use the arm of Romulus’s chair and the table to launch myself over him and onto Beltz’s back. He falls over partway with the force of my sudden arrival, and I grab him around the neck with my forearm before he can recover. Headlock! Boom!
I’ve collapsed both of his arteries on either side of his neck between my bicep and my ulna, but he still has enough oxygen in his system to fight back. I was expecting it, though, so I find that place in me that helps me ignore the pain that’s sure to come and settle in. If I can hold on, he’s got no more than fifteen seconds to do whatever it is he’s going to do before he passes out. I feel his neck muscles straining against my grip. He thinks he can stop this from happening, but he’s wrong. He’ll find out soon enough.
I use my other hand to lock my position in, gripping my hands together, as he stands straight and tries to roar his unhappiness. It comes out as a strangled wheeze. There’s no way he’s getting out of this, as long as I don’t let go. I squeeze tighter.
Like any man fighting for survival would, he reaches over his head and grabs at the first thing he can get his hands on: my hair.
I’ve had my tresses yanked out by the roots before. It’s never pleasant, but I tell myself it’s not pain that I feel blazing across my scalp right now. It’s simply the color blue. Cold as ice, like the surface of Xylera. Pain means nothing to me; it’s a word that represents something other people must battle. I am immune to it.
Beltz spins around, slamming into people and chairs on his way. My leg clips a few of them and sends them reeling. I’ll have to apologize for that later. Then I see the wall coming at us, and I know his next plan. But I’m halfway to getting him unconscious, and I feel strong. That drink I had is helping. I can do this.
He runs over and throws himself backward against the hard steeloid surface by the door, hoping to dislodge me by knocking the wind from my lungs and causing me intense pain from broken ribs. But I was expecting it, and my core muscles protect me from the majority of the impact I catch at my side. My lungs are a little stunned, but I don’t need to inhale right now. I’ve got this.
He staggers, a sure sign that he’s about to go down. But he’s not ready to accept defeat yet. He bends over and stumbles toward Alana’s chair like an angry goat ready to gore someone with its horns, throwing both of us on top of the furniture sideways. I hear a terrible snapping sound and pain lances through my arm for a moment before I manage it. I feel nothing. I’m locked on. I cannot be removed. Spots dance before my eyes, but I blink them away. Thick fingers come up and scratch at my face. I duck my head down as far as I can, trying to protect my softer parts from destruction. Not the eyes, asshole. I need the eyes.
His struggles grow weaker, and his hands disappear. I can feel his pulse slow and stop beneath the skin of my broken arm at his neck. I cannot focus on that, however, because that lets the pain in. Instead, I wait for the moment when he can no longer move — the moment when his heart removes all energy from his motor nerves to direct every bit of juice it has left to keeping his organs alive. It’s then, when all his muscles go slack, that I release my hold and fall onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.
Suddenly there are faces above me and a moment later, a great weight is lifted from my body.
“Are you okay?” Alana asks. Her makeup is smeared around her eyes and her hair is a mess, tangled around her face. One of her boobs is falling out, too. It makes me laugh a little, but then I stop when it moves my arm and sore ribs too much.
“I think I broke something.” I wince as a sliver of pain comes out of nowhere and jabs me in the arm.
“Clear the way, clear the way.” Kaiholo appears, shoving Romulus to the side. Now his chubby face is the only thing I can see in my field of vision.
“God?” I say, my voice decidedly weaker. “Is that you?”
He smiles. “You’re going to think so when I’m done with you.” He looks to his right. “Help me get her up.”
“What about Beltz?” Romulus asks, as he places his hand under my upper back and tries to sit me up.
A moan leaves my lips, slipping past my defenses. Damn. That hurts. So this is what raw pain feels like.
“Leave him, he’ll be fine. She knew what she was doing.” He leans in as he tries to help me. “Well done, my girl. Nice hadaka-jime. Perfectly executed.”
I grunt with the effort of getting up, but soon enough I’m swept up into the arms of the great, big, round healer. I smile at him as the pain sneaks past my barriers again and starts to take over my brain. “That really hurts, you know.”
“Then you should be crying, not smiling.” He’s walking out the door and down the hall.
“Crying makes things hurt more. I prefer to smile when I’m dying.” My head flops back and my eyes glaze over. “Please don’t turn me into a shadow,” I whisper, just before I lose consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BAEBONG IS STANDING OVER ME. His face is fuzzy at first, but the
n it comes into focus. I try to sit up, but he pushes me down with a single finger at my shoulder. I’m as weak as a newborn baby.
“Stay put,” he says.
“Where am I?” I look left and right, not recognizing anything. It’s not my ship’s medical bay, and it’s not the place on the DS Mekanika where I had my chip removed by Jens either.
“You’re on the DS Huna. In one of their medical bays.” He leans in and whispers. “This ship is like one giant hospital. It’s fucking amazing.”
I search his face, hoping to see honesty waiting for me there. “Did they MI me?”
“Yes, they did.” A glimmer of a smile shows up and then disappears really quickly.
My eyes narrow. “Why are you so happy about that?”
He shrugs. “No reason. Who couldn’t use a little MI now and then, right?”
I struggle to sit up, but Baebong knocks me down again. Then I lift the arm that was broken during my struggle with Beltz to see if it’s working again and catch a glimpse of the porcelain skin around it, which brings out a hiss from between my teeth.
“Goddammit!” I kick Baebong out of the way so I can sit up without his interference. My strength is coming back lightning quick. “Who said they could do that?!” I check my other arm and get twice as angry. All my scars are gone, and the smooth skin of a newborn baby is in their place.
Baebong rights himself and holds up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me. Those med techs came in here and worked you over good.” He nods at my arm. “Broken in two spots, but better than new, now.”
I flex it, half expecting some residual pain, but there’s nothing. It feels stronger than before, like he said.
Baebong keeps staring at me.
“What?!” I really want to punch something right now, and his face is looking mighty appealing for that purpose.
“You’re just … pretty is all.”
My hands fly up to my face and I panic. “Gah! What did they do to me?”
