It was Tomas Averill.
Jonah considered. If it was Tomas, then even if he had not sent the message, he clearly knew of it. That reshaped everything. If the patricians were interested in a meeting—and Averill’s presence seemed to indicate they were—then perhaps they really did want to fix things.
Jonah clamped down on the flare of hope. There were still far too many things he didn’t like about this, including having to speak to Averill himself.
With a deep breath, he moved around the edge of the tunnel so that Averill could see him and started walking toward him. He kept his hearing racked up and continually glanced over his shoulder, uneasy at having his back exposed in this way.
Once he had committed himself and was actually inside the tunnel and visible, others stepped out around Averill. Jonah felt a little bit better when he saw Veda Kovaks’ slight and silver-haired figure among them.
As he drew closer he recognized more of them. Nicolo Hayim, the Red Guard lieutenant, was there. He was wearing civilian street clothing which Jonah took to mean he was not there in his official capacity.
Rosalina Farland, who had first introduced Jonah to Veda, was standing very close to the massive figure of Ambrose Gunther, the Dream Hawks topline player and patrician. Gunther looked worse for wear. He had blood all over one side of his head, except for the eye socket, where he had wiped it away to keep his vision clear. But he looked alert and energetic despite the injury. Perhaps the blood was not his.
Jonah dropped his gaze down to Gunther’s hands. They were clean. So perhaps it was his blood, after all.
Conrad Sansone and Lloyd Hampus, the other two Spanners faction leaders, were also standing close by.
The last of the small group was a gray-haired man with dark brows and smooth, tanned skin from spending too long under sun lights. Jonah recognized him and was jolted back into childhood. This was Byrne Henderson, manager of assets in the Palatine. He had the power to evict anyone from their woodland home and he also controlled who was to be assigned newly available homes. As many people wanted to live in the Palatine, Henderson was a hugely influential man, whom no one ever wanted to offend.
If Henderson was here, that meant he must be the patrician faction’s leader. Gunther was not leader material. Jonah didn’t for a moment consider that Averill might be the leader. He didn’t have the strength.
So, both factions were here. Perhaps this was not a trap after all. Why, then, had they dragged him here?
He got close enough to speak to them. They were all watching him warily.
“We’ve taken out all the cameras here,” Averill said. “You can speak freely.”
Jonah didn’t bother looking to see for himself if that was true. Just standing here with this group of people would condemn all of them. They had as much reason to ensure the cameras were dead as he did.
Instead, he got right to the point. “You’re really serious about wanting to fix things?” he said to Henderson.
Averill’s eyes widened. “That’s what my message said.”
Jonah kept his gaze on Henderson. Henderson was the real power here.
Henderson smiled, a charming expression. He gave a small shrug. “It depends on what you define as ‘fixing’.”
Jonah nodded. “Glad I didn’t get my hopes up,” he muttered.
“Jonah, you have to agree that things have gone too far,” Veda said, her tone reasonable and sweet.
“I said they had gone too far, days ago. At the arena.”
Veda nodded. “It had already moved out of our hands by then. The citizens of the Endurance have taken this cause up for themselves. They’re speaking their minds.”
“With pipes and sticks.” Jonah grimaced.
So did Gunther.
“We need to gather up the reins and direct this, now,” Henderson added, “before the Bridge reasserts authority. We must take advantage of the chaos.”
“To do what?” Jonah asked, genuinely puzzled. How was that fixing things?
Everyone stared at him, this time.
Averill spluttered. “Why, to take back the Bridge for ourselves. To give it to the people who really belong there.”
Jonah controlled his reaction. He was badly outnumbered and two of the people standing in a loose semi-circle around him were tank players, with height and muscle and agility. “You call an insurgency fixing things?” he asked, keeping his tone soft and non-confrontational.
“I did say it was a matter of definition,” Henderson reminded him.
Jonah threw out his hand. “People are dying out there and you want to swap out the Captain’s chair? What about stopping the riot, first? What about helping the injured? What about fixing the ship?”
Veda clicked her tongue. “Jonah, really. Those things will be taken care of, only we will be in a better position to do that once the chair is ours.”
“This is still a ship in transit,” Jonah reminded them. “You’re talking about mutiny.”
No one liked that. Rosalina looked very unhappy, her gaze moving to the Spanners people around her.
Jonah blew out his breath, trying hard to stay on top of the stirring heat in his chest and belly. He couldn’t afford to blow his temper. Not now. This was too critical. “Why don’t you just try talking to the Bridge?” he suggested, with no great hope. “You have control of the factions. If you work with the Bridge, this can be turned around before it’s too late.”
For the first time since he’d stepped into the tunnel, Henderson’s little, meaningless smile faltered. “What do you mean by ‘too late’?”
“Don’t you get it?” Jonah railed at them. “The deaths, the damage to the ship…there is a point of no return, where the damage and the lack of people to take care of the ship will doom us all. The ship systems won’t be able to recover. The redundancy systems will be damaged and won’t be able to compensate. We’ve got to be close to that point already. If we can halt it now, if we can work together and I mean everyone—Bridge, districts, factions, every single person on this ship—pulling together to reverse the plunge, then we might just make it.”
They were still staring at him.
Averill snorted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re one of those woo-woo people who think the ship has a spirit, aren’t you?”
Jonah dropped his head. They didn’t understand. They thought the ship itself was invulnerable, if they thought of the ship at all. Like most people, they forgot that they were inside a ship hurtling through space toward Destination, a ship made by humans, that required maintenance and care to get them there. Under normal circumstances, that work was invisible to most people. They got on with their lives, unaware of how fragile their world really was.
He had to try to make them understand. At least this group of people were talking and thinking, instead of being swept away by the need to protest and vent their frustrations with violence, the way the rest of the ship was.
The people still inside the Bridge were another group that might just be open to listening.
“Let me talk to the Bridge,” Jonah said.
Veda’s eyes widened. “They’ll kill you,” she said instantly. “They think your execution will halt this.”
Henderson nodded. “Such a barbaric declaration. I know you’re a reasonable man, Jonah. Surely you cannot condone the Captain’s choice to kill in cold blood?”
Jonah shook his head. “It’s the right decision,” he said shortly. “David Sekar is thinking of the safety of the ship. He wants to halt the riot any way he can. Offering a get-off-free deal out to everyone in exchange for me will halt it. It will make people start thinking again, instead of just reacting, because he’s appealing to their survival instincts.”
Veda sighed. “You are too much of a philosopher for your own good, Jonah. You would let them kill you for the sake of the ship?”
“I don’t want to die. If I have to, that’s a good reason,” Jonah said flatly. “However, Sekar’s deal makes me one of the only people who might be ab
le to make them understand why that won’t work. I have to try, anyway. The rioting must stop. After that, you can hatch all the conspiracies you want. But first, the ship must be saved.”
Averill rolled his eyes.
Conrad Sansone, who had been standing half a pace behind Veda, stepped forward. He was holding a board. “Things have changed,” he said. “People are gathering in the Aventine marketplaces. Hundreds of them. A call just went out across the Forum, demanding that everyone on the ship meet there.”
“So?” Henderson said impatiently.
“They’re going to march on the Bridge,” Jonah said, feeling sick.
Henderson glanced at him, then back at Sansone. “Are they?”
Sansone nodded. “In an hour. The message is repeating every thirty seconds. They say to bring weapons.” He screwed up his mouth. “They don’t like the Captain’s willingness to execute people without trial.”
Jonah sighed. At the same time, he could feel his heart swelling with pride for the collective wisdom of the people aboard the Endurance. Not even he had anticipated this—that they would disdain a chance to have all their sins forgiven because it came at a price too high for their moral conscience.
“The Bridge will fight back,” he said slowly. “They have nothing left to lose, now. The deal Sekar offered has slipped in their hands and is now useless. They have weapons on the Bridge,” he added, his heart sinking again. “Even guns.”
Henderson shifted on his feet so he was facing Veda directly. “We have to get out in front of this. Now,” he said urgently. “If we’re at the front of that phalanx, we can control this and use it.”
Jonah tamped down his reaction again. He wasn’t among friends. They would still use this to their own advantage, instead of simply joining with the rest of the ship and marching upon the Bridge where some sort of compromise might be reached.
Veda nodded. “Jonah can speak for us. He’s good at talking.”
Averill pushed in between them. “It should be me who speaks,” he said swiftly.
Veda glanced at him. “Jonah is the voice of the people,” she said flatly and dismissively.
Averill’s face darkened. “I am the rightful Captain!” he cried.
Jonah wouldn’t have been surprised if Averill stamped his feet, too.
Veda looked at Jonah. “It must be you.”
Henderson was looking at him curiously, too.
Jonah shook his head. “I’ll speak to them, just not as one of your revolutionaries. I want the ship safe, first. I’ll deal with them in whatever way will make that happen. After that, you can do whatever you want to the Captain. The Endurance comes first. If you agree to that, then I’ll lead your bloody march.”
Veda exchanged glances with Henderson, who nodded.
“He’s nobody!” Averill shouted furiously. “He’s a plebeian! He doesn’t even have a job.”
“Jonah is from the Palatine,” Veda said coldly. “He has lived and worked in every district on the ship, including this Field.” She looked up and around at the towering structures surrounding them. “Jonah is everything to everyone. It must be him.”
Averill lunged at Jonah. Jonah had been braced for a physical reaction from the man-child. He got his hands on Averill’s shirt and held him off. It was easy. Averill was as light as his personality.
Averill looked him in the eye. His eyes were red-shot and filled with fury. “You will not take this away from me,” he muttered.
Sharp pain flared in Jonah’s thigh. He looked down, his fingers already loosening around Averill’s shirt. His knees were folding.
Jutting from Averill’s hand was a self-injector. The barb was buried in Jonah’s thigh.
“What have you done?” Veda cried.
Jonah sank to the floor, listening to the muffled sounds of people shouting. His hearing was fading. His arms were useless. He couldn’t even prop himself up.
The dark shadow was racing up his leg, into his body. He could feel it coming. Just before it took his consciousness, he screamed in his mind his fury and his fear.
Who would think to save the ship, now?
Chapter Seventeen
Marlow thought she might have slept again. When Eastov made no move to let her out of the room and the recording of David Sekar’s announcement continued to repeat and finally lost all meaning from that repetition, she laid back down on the bench, moving slowly.
She closed her eyes deliberately, trying to concentrate on her breathing and calm herself down. She should conserve her energy. There was nothing she could do right now. She couldn’t break out of this room. She had helped design it and knew there was no weakness she could exploit other than the human factor…and Eastov was as aware of that as she was. That was why he was ignoring her.
As there was nothing she could do, there was no point in blowing her energy reserves on useless speculation or moaning over her helplessness. In time, that would change. She wouldn’t be left here forever and when someone came for her, she would be rested and ready.
That someone was Cantrell.
She heard the door being unlocked and it drew her out of the meditative resting place she had reached. She sat up and realized her head was not hurting nearly as much as it had the first time she had woken. The sickly thudding had abated to a mild throbbing.
Cantrell stepped through the door. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder and Marlow gasped in horror. “Guns?” she breathed. “Cantrell, how could you?”
“Things have changed,” he said. “The entire ship is marching upon the Bridge. They’ll be here inside the hour. The Bridge division is setting up barricades in front of the gate.”
Marlow swallowed. “They’re marching? Everyone?”
Cantrell’s gaze flickered around the room, resting very briefly on the camera in the corner. “Jonah isn’t one of them,” he said, his voice very low.
Marlow breathed in, then let it out, in a controlled exhalation. She didn’t know if she was happy about that or not. She didn’t like the idea of Jonah being amongst mutineers. If he wasn’t there, though, then where was he? Was he safe?
Erron would not be among them either. She knew that in her bones. He would be in the house, the door locked. Probably monitoring everything and waiting to hear from her. Had Jonah returned to the house? Erron might even have a message for her, if Jonah was not still there.
Except she was stuck in this room.
Cantrell shifted on his feet. “I’ve been instructed to ask you for your help,” he said more loudly.
Instructed.
Marlow studied him carefully. Was he trying to tell her something? “Help with what?” she asked cautiously.
“The siege. They need every man they can muster. Even the admin people are being handed a rifle and placed behind the barricades.”
They. Cantrell was telling her something. He was telling her his loyalty was no longer with the Bridge. So where was his loyalty now? With her?
“They said to tell you that if you help the Bridge hold off the siege, then your crimes will be forgiven.”
“I go back to work as if nothing had ever happened?” she asked dryly.
Cantrell hesitated. “No, you don’t get your job back,” he said carefully. “You just get to step out of this room and help with the siege. Then you’ll be released.”
She understood exactly what he was not saying, because she had worked with Cantrell for many years. Step out of this room and you’ll be in a position where you can move freely. Stay here and you have no options.
“Do I get a gun?” she asked, not really interested in the answer. Someone was most likely listening to this and that would be a reasonable next question. She had already made up her mind. She just needed to make it look authentic, as if she really was throwing in her lot with the Bridge just to win her freedom, even though they had fired her without cause.
“No gun.” Cantrell shook his head.
“So, they don’t really trust me,” she concluded with a sour sm
ile. “I’m supposed to throw spit and curses at them, instead?”
“If you’re seen there, they think it will be enough to make some of the people on the other side of the barrier reconsider.”
Marlow’s lips parted in surprise. Then she shook her head. “They’re deluded if they think I have that sort of influence over anyone. If it means I get out of here, though, I’m in.”
Cantrell stepped aside and waved toward the door. “We’ve got the port side of the barricade,” he said.
“We?”
“My squad. Barlow’s, Tully’s and Reggie’s, too.”
Four squads.
Cantrell was looking at her with a steady intensity that told her he was trying to communicate silently.
She considered him. “Four squads,” she said very softly and stepped past him through the door.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice even.
Marlow took a deep breath and stretched, just outside the door. It wasn’t a cramped room yet she could feel the kinks unbending, her body flexing back to full strength.
Sitting on the corner of the nearest desk were her bo sticks, looking innocuous. As she passed the desk, she swept them into her hand, then into her pockets.
She had four squads of the very best of the Bridge Guards at her disposal. That left barely two for the Bridge to control.
She didn’t need a gun at all.
* * * * *
The first thing Jonah did when he woke was to flip onto his side and lean over. He was comprehensively sick, until his stomach was utterly empty and his throat and eyes and belly were straining with the need to expel the whatever-it-was Averill had pumped into him.
Trembling, he wiped off his mouth, then shuffled away from the mess with a disgusted sound. He looked around.
He was inside the inner structures of the Field and the busy hum of equipment working steadily was all around him. There were huge pipes running up on all sides of him. He recognized them. This was part of the recycling and energy conversation complex. He knew this area. The section he was in was self-maintaining and it was rare for humans to have to come here. The floor was thick with grime, proving it had been a very long while since anyone had been here.
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