Clockwork Memories: Book Three in the Memory Thief Series

by Sarina Dorie

  When he spoke, it confirmed my suspicion this was Meriwether. “Thank you for your heartfelt concern, but I will continue to hold my tongue and keep my counsel.”

  I slipped the makeshift knife from my belt. I bit down on the blade, freeing my hands to open the door wider.

  “Is there nothing else I can say that will persuade you?” Charbonneau asked. “How am I to help you if you will not give me any information they value? They will torture you no matter how I try to convince them not to.”

  Meriwether said nothing. His gaze flickered down to the floor, meeting my eyes.

  I was already halfway through the door when they turned. My breath hitched in my chest. I was caught for certain this time. My heart lurched in panic.

  Meriwether shouted, “Wait!”

  The two pairs of feet stopped and turned back toward him. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Yes?” Charbonneau asked.

  “It’s about the chiramanteps.” His voice grew hoarse.

  “Those blasted blue beasts?”

  “Indeed.” Meriwether’s voice was quiet, almost too faint to be heard. Charbonneau limped closer.

  “You have to understand,” Meriwether said. “It isn’t a secret to the Jomon. It’s such common knowledge, they had no idea we even considered this detail to be valuable. Nor did they suspect we would desire the red diamonds when they considered them to be rubbish. Do you remember on the planet when we found the stones? Not even a Jomon child would pick through fetid patches of manure and excretion for a shiny marble to play their pebble games.”

  “I don’t follow you, sir,” Charbonneau said.

  Meriwether’s ability to stall was impressive. I crawled out to my hips before reaching back for the door to ensure it didn’t thud closed behind me and alert them of my presence.

  “You don’t know where they come from, do you?” Meriwether asked.

  Charbonneau coughed. “They’re produced by the chiramanteps. The French know that or else they wouldn’t have kept them alive.”

  I took the handle of the knife in my hand and soundlessly jumped to my feet. I had to choose which one to take out first: Charbonneau, enemy of my people, or the stranger in the blue uniform.

  “Yes, but you don’t know how they produce them, do you? No one does. Jacques hasn’t been able to harvest the diamonds in any of the other chirmamanteps he removed from the planet, has he?”

  The man in blue shifted from foot to foot in excitement, his eyes riveted on Meriwether. His fingers danced across the laser pistol at his hip. I saw no weapon on Charbonneau. He was less of a threat, which meant he should be killed second.

  Meriwether’s eyes were wide and glossy like a man with a fever. “Is it any surprise these stones are related to an artifact from the first era of colonization? The only reason the prototype Jacques stole hasn’t revolutionized spaceflight is because he can’t get it to work. Don’t you see the connection? Finding these stones on Planet 157 was no coincidence. The chiramantep were once used to harvest these stones for spaceflight.”

  I lunged for the soldier turned away from me. I kicked him behind the knees, causing him to cry out. He buckled and fell to the ground. I grabbed his hair with one hand to tilt back his head and expose his throat. I slashed the knife against his flesh with the serrated edge of rusted metal. It ripped across his skin ungracefully, but it did the job.

  Charbonneau stumbled toward the door. I raised my knife.

  “No, don’t hurt him!” Meriwether said. “He’s on our side. He’s trying to help. Please, we need him.”

  That made me pause, but only for a second. I tossed the blade up into the air, caught it under the shaft so that the blade was pointed away from the old man, and bashed it against his temple. He crumpled to the floor.

  “Miss Sumiko, why did you have to do that? I told you he was going to help us,” Meriwether complained.

  “He’s probably not dead,” I said. “Besides, if he was such a good friend of yours, he wouldn’t leave you to be tortured. Ne?”

  Meriwether sighed in exasperation. “Not all is black and white. In any case—”

  The door opened, revealing another man. He spoke as he entered, “The commander wanted me to let you know—”

  His gaze flickered from me to the bodies on the floor. I dove forward. In the time it took him to register the scene and reach toward the laser pistol at his belt, I was already close enough to stop him. I kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it flying up into the air. It whacked against the ceiling. The man was too busy following it with his eyes to see me gain the remaining distance.

  I closed in, thrusting at him with the knife. He dodged to the side just in time, deflecting my blow. He grabbed onto the collar of my attush and threw me aside. I used that momentum, twisted and punched him in the ribs with my other hand. He grunted in pain. I lashed out again, slicing the knife against this throat. He clutched at the bleeding red bloom with both his hands and fell to his knees. Blood gurgled out of his mouth and I stepped back as he fell forward.

  I swept my hair out of my face and turned to Meriwether.

  “Ahem,” he said. He diverted his gaze toward the floor.

  “How do we get you out?” I asked.

  “Ahem.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Do you have a sickness in your throat?”

  “It’s your décolletage.” He nodded toward me, keeping his eyes closed.

  I looked down at myself. The ties had loosened on the attush and the collar had slipped down one shoulder. A long v of flesh was exposed between my breasts. Had I the ample breasts Faith had, I might have fallen out of the robe. As it was, I was small enough to be safe for Meriwether’s eyes. At least, I was at the moment.

  I readjusted my robe.

  “Are you decent?” Meriwether asked, opening one eye.

  “As much as I ever will be.”

  He laughed at that. “Fetch the keys from that man’s belt. And grab the laser pistol in case someone else comes in.”

  “And then we will rescue Faith?” I asked.

  “Indeed.”

  Of course, he then took forever programming the computer and readying distress signals and then he had to just sit there and “plan.” He was so annoying. It was because of him and how long he took planning that we found Faith in bed with a pirate performing memory exchange.

  Had I been Meriwether with a pistol in my hand when I found them, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill them. But by the time I was in the room and had locked the door, they had already agreed to keep him alive so she could get her memories back.

  I listened as Meriwether told her his plan to give her all his memories.

  After carrying Jacques to the water closet, Faith and Meriwether started the memory exchange. I tied myself up as convincingly as I could.

  It was a fine plan. It meant she would know everything he knew. She could fix the engine and fly the ship and we wouldn’t have any need of him anymore. Nor did I completely mind she was to shoot Meriwether. Only, I hadn’t realized he would end up charred like a piece of dinner that had fallen onto the coals. Nor did I know all of this would create the perfect scenario for Jacques to steal the ship—with all of us on it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I do have something you want. Your son. He’s now aboard the vessel with the prototype and your diamonds. I’m willing to return all this to you. There’s just one tiny, little thing I want.

  —hyperspeed message from Commander Jacques Bleu

  Only a few minutes of the memory exchange had passed before the plan went awry. Jacques stirred and then thrashed about in the water closet. Men pounded on the door outside. My situation might have been easier had I not tied myself into knots with Faith’s undergarments. Even so, I had a duty to perform.

  “I’m in here. Free me at once!” Jacques shouted.

  The men hammered on the door, but they couldn’t enter. When we’d come in earlier, Meriwether had sh
own me how to use computer magic to ensure the doors would remain locked. If he and Faith hadn’t dawdled, they’d have had more time to perform memory exchange. As it was, I didn’t know if a few minutes was enough time, even for one as natural at dosha kuzure as Faith was.

  Faith’s hands were still pressed to Meriwether’s chest. She sighed, and I hoped that was a sign she was returning to herself. I bumped my shoulder against hers. She stirred.

  The metal of the door dented and buckled.

  “Faith-chan,” I said through the fabric I’d tied over my mouth. “Wake up.”

  She moaned. Her eyes fluttered. More footsteps thundered outside. The smell of burning metal came from the door.

  I shook Faith the best I could with my arms tied in front of me. “Get the gun.”

  Faith pulled back from Meriwether, looked to me and blinked.

  Jacques kicked at the water closet door. A corner of it came up. Faith fumbled with the gun and dropped it. She practically fell out of bed to retrieve it. Her hands trembled as she picked up the gun. She stared at it blankly.

  I elbowed her and nodded to Meriwether.

  She raised the pistol.

  Blue light shot out of the laser she aimed at Meriwether Klark. I didn’t see whether her shot found its mark or not. The pink ruffled blankets of her bed went up in flames, engulfing her fiancé. He thrashed about, mewling like a chiramantep caught in a trap. He fell to the floor, rolling and putting out the flames.

  Faith’s screams filled the air and she lunged forward. My wrists were bound in front of me so all I could do was grab a puff sleeve of her night clothes to yanked her back. Smoke stung my eyes and nose. The men tramping into Faith’s quarters swore and pushed us aside. Water rained down on us from the ceiling, dousing us as well as the flames.

  One of the French soldiers opened the door to the closet.

  “Mon Dieu!” Commander Jacques Bleu stumbled out of the water closet, shouted orders to his men in his devil’s tongue and then turned to me. “What has happened here?”

  Faith still clutched the laser pistol. She sobbed hysterically. Jacques shook her and shouted, but it only made her sob more. I kicked him in the shin to get his attention. He scowled, looking at me. He reached behind my head and ungagged me.

  I nodded at Meriwether, trying not to think too much about the way the men beat the remaining flames from him. “That gaijin has stolen her memories. She’s in shock, ne? Please, she needs to be away from here. She needs rest,” I said. The best way to tell a lie was to hide it between two truths.

  Jacques picked Faith up as though she weighed as little as a child and carried her in his arms. I followed him down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the healing room on the starship, a metal room that smelled of acrid chemicals. The walls were made of some sort of polished metal that reflected warped versions of our likenesses.

  Jacques set Faith on a metal table. “Calm yourself, ma chérie,” he said. His good eye, the one that wasn’t covered by a metal patch, showed genuine concern for her welfare.

  I nodded back to the door. “Is he alive? Her attacker?” I didn’t dare say his name. That would only show we knew who he was. I didn’t know if Meriwether wanted him to think I thought he was the captain or himself.

  Without another word, Jacques left us. Faith leaned against my shoulder, crying. It was awkward standing there with my hands tied together, sort of hugging her but not exactly. I might have removed the sash around my wrists except for the fact that it would have given away I could have done so earlier.

  Jacques returned a moment later with two men carrying Meriwether. I gasped when I saw him. His face was bloody and blistered. His clothes were burned through and in some places fabric had melted onto blackened skin. He looked more like a roasted usagi than a man. He moaned pathetically when they set him on the table nearest. The guards stood next to the door, barring our escape.

  Horror washed over Faith’s face like the quick moving clouds of an oncoming storm. She gasped in a few breaths before choking in panic. She let out a half cry that turned into a scream. At the best of times she was a fragile one. I hooked my hands over her head and brought her face toward my bosom where I could shield her from the sight of him.

  Her spine went stiff as I hugged her. I didn’t know why she didn’t embrace me as she usually did when she cried. This closeness felt wrong in a way it never had before. I wished she had never seen my memories. I would have liked to keep on pretending she might love me, even if it wasn’t true. My heart felt as though it were breaking, like her own, and not like her own.

  Jacques stroked his trimmed dark beard, studying Meriwether Klark’s wounds. “She knew that was Meriwether Klark. N’est-ce pas?”

  I didn’t answer. I smoothed her hair the best I could.

  Jacques went on. “She lied to protect his identity, which would imply she was in on his plans. Why then, would she shoot him, her fiancé?”

  He knew far more than I liked, but then, he always had an uncanny ability for discovering secrets.

  “I already told you,” I said. “He betrayed her trust and stole her memories. She shot him in self-defense. Must we stay here with him? This is the last place that will bring her peace—to have to recover next to her enemy.” I held up my bound wrists. “Untie me.”

  Jacques took out a knife and sliced through the binding. “Why would he steal her memories? She had nothing of value to him.” He plucked up the pistol from her trembling fingers as if just noticing it.

  “Indeed, that’s what we said, but he insisted all the same. He accused her of being a French spy.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

  Faith whimpered and turned her face toward the wall.

  The implication sank in. His good eye widened. “You mean to say he thought… ?”

  “Yes, he discovered her previous associations with you. When she insisted she didn’t know anything, he took her memories. Not unlike you—only he did so at gunpoint.” I paused, milking my mind for the right words in English. “He wasn’t satisfied with a few, though. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, so he took more. I fear he may have taken everything she knows. It’s hard to say how much of her shock is from the memory exchange and how much of it is from the trauma of shooting a man she thought loved her.” That was true enough.

  Jacques’ mouth drew back in a sneer. “I will kill him.”

  I placed a hand on his arm. “I should hope so, but not until he’s recovered enough to give Faith-chan her memories back. Ne?”

  Jacques turned to one of the men. He spoke in his native tongue, which I couldn’t understand. He said a word that sounded similar to doctor and his subordinate rushed out. Faith’s eyes locked onto mine. Her lips parted, and it looked as though she wished to ask a question. I gave her the slightest shake of my head. Better to be in supposed shock than let Jacques think her calm enough to question.

  Her lips pressed into a line, clamping down on the words she’d been about to say. She glanced at Jacques before returning her gaze to the floor.

  Jacques spoke English into a metal box he lifted from his belt. “Is the engine ready? Be ready to shoot your way out of here.”

  The reply was metallic and garbled. I couldn’t understand what the other person said.

  Faith’s eyes were filled with a shrewdness I was unaccustomed to seeing. It wasn’t that my dear friend was stupid. She just wasn’t used to deceiving. It took a different skill than she had ever practiced. Meriwether’s guile was in her now. I took a chance.

  I prompted in English so all would know what I said to her, “Do you know who you are? Do you know your name?” I gave the slightest shake of my hand in the hope she would play along and reply in the negative.

  Her lips trembled and she burst into another round of sobs. She shook her head.

  I smoothed a hand over her golden locks. It was mussed and still dripped from the ceiling rain.

  “Rest, anata,” I said. “All will be well. You are
safe now.”

  Jacques returned to Faith’s side. “Mon âme, do not fear. I will take care of you.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “She isn’t herself. She might not even know who you are. Please, let us go elsewhere so that she might rest. She’s in shock.”

  His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at me. “But she knows who you are, doesn’t she?”

  “It is difficult to say. I don’t know what he took from her.”

  “I have questions about that.” He looked to her imploringly.

  She kept her gaze glued on her hands, wringing them in her lap.

  I wedged myself between the two of them. “I will not let you bully her. This entire day has been too much for her. You will allow her to rest.”

  “Oui, I believe that much is true. My Faith is in no condition to be questioned. You, however, are.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Whist is played by four players. There are two partnerships with the partners sitting across from each other. Be very careful who you select to make your couple and be even more careful with who you make your opponent.

  —According to Edmund Hoyle in the publication A Short Treatise on the Game of Whist

  Better to question me than her. I thought he meant to question me right then, but the doors swished open and a short little man as bald as a baby strode through. He wore a loose white smock that reminded me of Jomon robes more than what I’d seen of the British or French clothes so far. He took one look at Meriwether and rushed to his bedside.

  “Médecin, over here.” Jacques waved to the man. “This young lady needs your assistance. You have something to calm her nerves, no?”

  The old doctor grimaced. He cast another look at Meriwether, who obviously was in greater need of medical attention out of the two of them, but he didn’t argue as Jacques beckoned to him.