So only Mirka and Vesha. Some classes are more equal than others.
“And years ago, when our people first evolved, we had round eyes. Just like yours.”
He stared at her. Round eyes just like ours? Could they have originated from humans, these manesa?
Sayvu fluttered her eyelashes, embarrassed. “It is a legend but my father thinks it may have a germ of truth. That our founders were brought here and settled, then as time went by the four classes broke apart from each other and became locked as they are. And by then our eyes had changed. But you see, if at one time we were equal, then there is no reason for the Mirka to rule.”
“Well, I expect you’re right.”
“My father would be anxious to meet you. It is a pity.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “If I could arrange a ship to get you away…” She stood, suddenly brisk. “That’s enough for tonight.”
He returned to his cell, deep in thought. Chance just might be offering him an opportunity. He had hoped, back there on Curlew, to develop a partnership with Selwood. With her to help him, what couldn’t he achieve? No bank, no casino would be able to stop her. He could be rich beyond his wildest dreams. She hadn’t been interested then. He hadn’t even been able to get her to bed, but now things were different. No doubt about it, Selwood’s skills were a saleable commodity. And he was nothing if not a salesman.
****
Several more late meetings later Jones felt he knew Sayvu well enough. “You know, Selwood could pilot a ship,” he said.
A flick of an eyebrow. “One of our ships? How?”
He leaned toward her, conspiratorial, smiling. “Indra, my dear, Selwood could fly this ship. On her own.”
Her eyes widened. “Vidhvansaka? A battle cruiser? No. That’s not possible.”
“Yes, it is. She’s a very special human, a Bio-engineered Intelligence. She was modified when she was a baby. They put those processors in her head and gave her artificial eyes. That’s why they’re silver.”
“But… why?”
“So that she can run computers with her mind. I don’t know how; just that she can enter your machines through the sensors or any other data connection. That’s part of the reason why she learnt your language so fast. Remember you said she knew words you hadn’t remembered teaching her?” A sharp nod. “She went through the sensors and learnt extra on her own.”
“Yes. But I still don’t understand. If she can do that, why can’t you?”
“I don’t have those processors. Mine just hold things like bank information, ID, medical history.”
She frowned.
“Look, not many people are suited to the modification Selwood had. And what people like her do in our society, is build all our technology. They’re the only ones who can make changes. Even things like the processor in my head.” He touched the lump behind his ear.
Sayvu looked at him and then at the floor. “That’s… amazing. And no-one here knows this?”
“No. Only you.”
****
Jones poured himself a mug of charb, the local bitter brew. The spicy smell drifted through the room; Selwood wrinkled her nose but he’d become a bit more accustomed to the stuff. It was better than always drinking water. The guards stood in their usual places against the wall and Sayvu had organized to be a few minutes late. It had taken him three days to convince her, now all he had to do was convince Selwood. He’d better hurry up.
He sat down next to her at the table, their backs to the guards. “How’s it going, Selwood? Have you found out where we are and how to get home?”
She shook her head. “The star charts give me no clues. A barred spiral galaxy is a barred spiral galaxy. I can’t establish a point of reference and without that…” She shrugged. “I’m running out of ideas. I really don’t know where home is, so it’s pointless escaping. But I’m getting very sick of being kept in a cell and treated like a criminal. I’m thinking of fessing up and seeing what happens.”
His heart jolted. “What? Tell them what you can do?”
She shrugged again. “It might get me out of a cell.”
Yes, it might. And he would lose his big opportunity with Sayvu’s people. “It might buy you even bigger trouble. A cell without sensors, a visit to the university professors. They’ll do experiments on you.”
Her lip twisted. “Erk.”
He put the mug down, twirled it between his fingers, careful to look casual. “Maybe there’s an alternative.”
She skewered him with those mercury eyes. “What?”
“I’ve been getting to know Sayvu over the last few evenings. Extra lessons.”
A snort. “Oh, yes.”
“She belongs to a group called Bunyada. Rich merchant types who don’t get on with the military. They’re freedom fighters, working to throw off the Mirka rule. She can get us a ship if you can fly it. We can go and join her father. He’s a very wealthy man.”
Selwood turned those disconcerting eyes on him. “You believe her?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.” She pulled a face. “It sounds a bit… I’ve seen news items about terrorists called Bunyada, not freedom fighters.”
“One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. She’s shown me news footage and explained how it was distorted to blame Bunyada. Look, if you get out of here, you’ll be able to make your own choices. With skills like yours, you’ll get on wherever you are. Indra’s promised wealth and comfort. And daddy’s got the wherewithal to make it happen. Then you’ll have time to work out where home is.”
“When?” she asked, rubbing her brow with her fingers.
“All you have to do is say yes and they’ll finalize a plan. In two days’ time we get out of isolation. Then we go into detention and she’s heard we’ll be shipped off to their capital not long after that. No doubt to the professors, who’ll do experiments on us.”
She scowled. “Okay. Find out what sort of ship I’m supposed to fly.
Chapter Six
Morgan rolled off the bunk wishing she’d had a little more sleep. Nerves buzzed like a swarm of wasps in her stomach. Routine; she had to make it all look routine. She dressed in the prison fatigues they’d given her, bright red pants and shirt, and hoped Sayvu would be able to pull this off. She’d give a lot just to be able to wear some decent clothes.
Her escort arrived to take her to the exit from the detention block. She waited, gaze fixed on the floor, inside the closed door. It wouldn’t be opened until Sayvu appeared. Footfalls approached from within the prison, heavy boots and a softer tread. Jones plus escort. She didn’t even look at him.
A click and the clatter of turning wheels as the doors slid apart. Sayvu waited outside, erect and unsmiling. “Come.”
Morgan and Jones followed her, their two troopers a few steps behind. They all crowded into a transit car and went up two levels. From there, they walked down a wide corridor and into a warehouse.
“Lieutenant, why…” one of the guards said. The words trailed away. He started to lift his hand to his neck, where a needle-thin dart protruded. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor beside his colleague.
A man wearing a grey uniform stepped forward, grasped one of the fallen troopers’ shoulders and dragged him away between the rows of shelving. Sayvu did the same with the second man. Morgan glanced around her. Food supplies. Stacks and stacks of non-perishables, piled to the roof.
The man reappeared. She noticed the rank insignia on his sleeve, three squares and a star. A senior NCO.
“Quickly. Get in here.” He gestured at one of three rectangular containers, its lid tilted back, on a tray attached to a supply vehicle.
She clambered up. It stank of rotting organics and a layer of black gunge coated the base. Yuck.
“Hurry,” urged the NCO. “It’s only for a short time.”
Morgan pulled a face. Well, it made sense, she supposed. Who’d willingly investigate waste matter being shipped planetside? She lowered h
erself onto the damp mess and sat, knees to her chest while he sealed down the top. The stench filled her lungs; she suppressed the gag reflex. It wouldn’t be for long. She hoped. If this didn’t work… But then, why shouldn’t it? The fleet was in orbit around a planet. A supply run between planet and ship—quite normal.
The container lurched and swayed. A short ride, a halt. Muffled voices. She adjusted her audio-receptors so she could hear.
“Waste material transfer. Would you care to check?” That was the senior NCO.
“Uh, no, Sergeant. I’ll take your word.” And that would be the person at the gate.
The container lurched again. She wriggled her buttocks. There wasn’t much worse than damp pants. The muck was cold, too.
She nearly squealed when the box suddenly rose into the air. A loader, that’s all. Settle down.
Noises outside. The lid swung back. She looked up into Sayvu’s face and breathed a sigh of relief. As she clambered out into a cargo hold, the same senior NCO she’d seen before clamped the other two containers to fixtures on the deck.
A female body wearing only underclothes lay against a bulkhead, bound hand and foot and gagged, clearly unconscious.
“The pilot,” Sayvu said. “She has been drugged. Here is her flight suit."
Morgan peeled off the stinking red prison clothes and pulled on the black coverall while the NCO finished his job. “Good luck,” he said to Sayvu. He disappeared through the hatch back to the hangar bay.
Jones beamed at her, grinning from ear to ear. “Great. We’re out of here.” He snaffled Sayvu and gave her a brief hug.
“Save your breath. We’ve got to get out of the hangar first,” Morgan said. “You two get strapped in.”
They headed for the crew compartment while she climbed through the hatch into the bridge. A VN 34 utility shuttle. She’d spent the last few nights becoming familiar with the specs and using the flight simulator software. She sat down, locked into the ship’s system and checked status. Ready for take-off, awaiting final clearance. She breathed deeply, willing her heart to stop hammering. Off this ship to who knows where?
“F75 you are cleared to enter airlock bay fifty-four.”
F75. That’s us. “Acknowledge.”
She applied some pressure to the lower thrusters. The ship lifted off the deck and floated forward, into airlock bay fifty-four. Thrusters off. A hiss, a clunk as the ship settled back onto its landing gear. She waited, each second an eternity. Atmospheric pressure dropped in the airlock. Vacuum. The bay doors slid open. She looked out at a blue and white world, a marble floating in the blackness of space.
“Clear to go, F75. Safe journey.”
Thrusters down, drive into slow. F75 drifted out of the airlock and into space. She checked the route the ship had been given to take it to the space port on the ground. A swift calculation plotted the best time to amend the vector so the ship would bounce off the atmosphere, pick up speed and power, and disappear into shift-space. They’d need to be quick to avoid the flights of fighters the warship could send out if somebody realized what was really happening.
The side wall of the battle cruiser rose behind the shuttle like a cliff pock-marked with caves. How crazy was this? But then, the whole thing had been crazy since Curlew had left Belsun station and she really was sick of life in a cell. At least this way she’d have some chance to plot her own destiny. She hadn’t given up on going home; not completely.
“F75, return to the airlock. Repeat, return to the airlock.”
Every nerve in her body tingled. What the fuck? The order came from the battle cruiser. Maybe she could— A beam of white light blasted across her ship’s bow. A fighter appeared alongside the shuttle.
“Turn back now or be destroyed.”
Morgan sagged even as she applied the left thrusters to turn the ship. Hells fucking bells. This was planned, a trap.
The bridge hatch slid open. Sayvu clambered inside, yellow eyes wide with fear, arm outstretched. “You can’t. Don’t go back. You mustn’t. They’ll kill us, kill us all.”
One look at the girl’s face was enough. That was real, genuine terror. Fine. She wasn’t finished yet.
Before the ship had turned around completely, she hit full power, controlling the vector. A Supertech versus a standard thruster control system? No contest. Sayvu gasped as she fell, flung out of the bridge hatch by the acceleration. F75 shot down the battle cruiser’s flank. Grinning, Morgan diverted all shield power to the rear. This would be fun if it wasn’t so serious. The fighter that had menaced them had only just managed its turn. They’d launch others, of course, but up close to the cruiser they’d think twice about shooting. The ship lurched as a beam struck the shields, sending them shimmering. And again. Shield power down to ninety percent.
She scanned space, looking for options and spied a shuttle on its way down to the planet. A burst of the left thrusters slewed F75 around forty-five degrees. The fighter fired again and missed. Just a little further. Top thruster on. F75 dropped, almost searing the underside of the shuttle as it streaked past. The battle cruiser was a shrinking mass behind them. She fired up the shift drive. A few minutes more and they’d be clear.
A whole wave of fighters emerged from the warship’s belly like wasps from a hive. Good luck to them. They were fast but by the time they reached here, F75 would be gone. Morgan pushed the power past the safety limit. Alarm sirens shrieked a strident warning and red lights flashed.
Now. She forced the change to shift drive.
What the fuck? Nothing happened. Her nerves screaming, she dived into the system. Status normal. No errors. Ah, shit. She threw off her harness and leapt to her feet. The bastards must have sabotaged the drive.
The ship jolted sideways hard enough to have her staggering against the hatch. Those fighters were firing and the shields were beginning to fail.
“F75 stand to or be destroyed.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered, forcing her muscles to move.
The ship jolted again, from the other side this time. Fuck. The whole fucking squadron had caught up. The ship was surrounded.
“One last warning, F75.”
Her shoulders sagged. Jones stared at her, ashen faced. Sayvu implored with her eyes, the pupils dilated so far the yellow rim was barely visible.
“Sorry, guys. It’s over.” Morgan returned to the pilot’s seat. “Acknowledge.”
Sayvu followed her and leaned against the bulkhead, trembling, arms wrapped around herself. “They’ll torture us. You don’t know what they’re like.”
Morgan swallowed. No, she didn’t. She fired a short burst with the forward thrusters to slow the ship down. But any other move was suicide. “Even if I fix the drive, in this configuration I can’t go to shift-space. There are too many of them and they’re too close, they’ll distort the matrix. We could end up anywhere.” And she’d already done that once in Curlew, thanks all the same.
“You will set this course to return to Vidhvansaka. Any deviation and you will be destroyed. We have missiles trained.”
A short burst of transmission transferred the coordinates. Morgan fed them in.
Jones squeezed into the bridge behind Sayvu. “Can’t you disable the fighters or something?”
She snorted under her breath. Idiot. Wave your magic wand, Supertech. “I’m a Supertech, not a magician.”
Sayvu seemed to have shrunk. But no tears. Maybe they didn’t do tears.
Shuttle F75 settled in the airlock, the bay doors closed and atmosphere began to fill the void around the ship. Jones and Sayvu returned to the crew quarters.
Morgan stayed in the bridge. Now the race was off and the adrenalin had drained away she felt cold. Afraid. They’d be wanting to chat with Sayvu, she expected, to find out how she’d organized their escape. Assuming, of course, they didn’t already know. She and Jones… maybe they’d overstayed their welcome. They wouldn’t kill them. Would they? The best bet was probably the university professors. Despair h
overed over her shoulder, a thick, dark mantle ready to smother her. So close. So fucking close.
The status panel flashed pressure equalized. The bay’s internal door opened and a dozen armed troopers marched in.
Déjà vu.
She rose and went to meet them.
Chapter Seven
Morgan wriggled her arms behind her back. The wrist bands weren’t tight but she’d been wearing them for hours now. They’d shoved her into a bare grey room and left. No chair, no water, nothing. Even the sensors were switched off. She wondered again where Jones and Sayvu were. They’d hustled them both away somewhere else. Soon enough they would come for her. She’d paced for a while, fought down the pressing urge to use the toilet. That was just fear. They’d been so close to getting away.
Leaning against the wall she closed her eyes and let herself slip down until she sat on the floor, knees raised, her head tilted back. Maybe this was all just a nightmare and soon she’d wake up. Wouldn’t that be good?
Her eyes opened at the swish-hiss of the opening door. Fear rose like lava from her belly. She swallowed. A tall man wearing a black officer’s uniform stepped over to where she sat, towering over her. Somebody else put down a chair in the middle of the room and left.
“Up.”
She tried, wriggling to angle her legs so she could stand. But without the use of her hands, she simply struggled on the floor like a landed fish. With a last effort that sent her thigh muscles burning she got herself onto her knees. Panting, she rested a moment before the final surge. She hated this. She hated this. On her knees, helpless.
The officer reached down, grasped her shoulder in one hand and pulled her upright so fast her feet left the ground. He let go and she swayed, regaining her balance. The light winked on the gold sunburst on his shoulder.
Morgan's Choice Page 4
