allies and enemies 02 - rogues (22 page)

She backed up. Her thighs connected with the edge of the table. “Stop.”

“And your best friend was this poor little girl with a crooked leg. She died of the hard fevers the same year your brother ran away to enlist.”

The edges of her vision blurred. “Stop.”

Fury burned in him, but was not meant for her. It focused within, eating everything. He leaned over her, his hands at either side of her, trapping her against the table. “And there’s that dark place in your head that you step around, and pretend doesn’t own you anymore. It’s filled with all those things that Tristic did to you.”

“Please stop—”

“She said stop.” A thick hand landed on Asher’s shoulder. Brilta.

He righted himself and shook her off.

“And I know you lie. So many layers and you don’t even remember the truth anymore,” Erelah called after him as he strode to the door.

He paused at the interface. “You don’t know a damned thing.”

“You can come back from it.”

Korbyn paused long enough before ducking out the door. His spine stiffened. In that moment she knew it. Her suspicions were correct.

Some deal had been made with Selto, not one that any of them would like.

48

“You’ve not eaten much. You feeling okay?” Rachel’s announcement came without preamble. That was her custom.

“Not hungry.” Erelah pulled away before the woman could attempt touching her again. As if the answer to the mysteries of the Known Worlds could be found by prodding someone’s forehead. Did all Human healers function that way? “It’s unwise to touch me so.”

In the corner of her vision, she sensed Rachel’s stare. Some internal argument was going on there. Finally, the woman shrugged and turned back to the bag of medicines and equipment. Her boon from Ix’s vessel. “Fine. Guess it’s none of my bees wax.”

Erelah waited for an explanation for this curious remark. None came.

The healer had been abnormally quiet after emerging from the waste rec. This was quite the difference from her incessant questions and curious observations. It was as if she were biding her time, casting calculating glances at Brilta.

“You’re contemplating something, aren’t you?” Erelah was careful to whisper.

Rachel ceased her rummaging in the bag. “Am I? You’re the mind reader.”

Erelah’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and Korbyn. Getting a little chummy?” She planted a hand on one hip and tilted her head. “Say…didn’t he hold you hostage?”

“He just
found
me. That’s all.” Warmth filled her face. “And we’re not chummy…whatever that means.”

“You been staring out that window since I got back, so something must have happened. He mention how his buddy was going to help you find your brother?”

At that moment, Erelah realized how wrong she was about Rachel. This was a woman who was truly lost, but had managed to survive against the staunchest odds in the most unlikely of circumstances, not by might, but with her wits. This was an ally she should be heeding.

“I suspect he did something…regrettable.” Erelah allowed her shoulders to sag.

Rachel stepped closer. “Korbyn only looks out for Korbyn.”

Erelah’s blood pounded against in her ears. The woman’s scrutiny made her feel so juvenile and naive.
Why am I so hurt or surprised by his betrayal?

“I’m sorry he turned out to be a dick.” The healer’s sentiment rang false to Erelah.

“I think he meant to try. I think there’s a part of him in there that,” she shrugged, “meant to, at least.”

Rachel nodded. “The road to hell…”

Erelah frowned. “Where?”

She waved a hand. “Just an expression.”

“Selto is hiding something. Everyone here is hiding something. It’s as if our arrival is an inconvenience.” Erelah finally spoke the impression that had been plaguing her.

“You don’t have to be a mind reader to know that,” Rachel agreed. “Ulrid asked a lot of questions about my people. Where they are? What they’re doing out here? I ducked what I could, but he saw through it. I don’t think they’re interested in helping us.”

“It doesn’t bode well for Asher either.”

Rachel leaned into her view out the window. “You got Stockholm syndrome or what? He doesn’t
care
. Why should
you
?”

Erelah frowned at her tone. Although the meaning of her words was unclear, it was plain she was being mocked.

“I’ve got an idea,” Rachel prodded. “You gonna mug at me, or you want to hear it?”

Erelah glanced at Brilta. The guard was consulting a station interface. One of the locked-out systems that even she had not been able to access in the brief time she had been left alone to examine it. It was curious to see the woman’s attention elsewhere, but it also meant she wasn’t observing them.

“We got to make our own way.”

Rachel turned her back to Brilta and the entrance. From the interior of her jacket, she withdrew a handheld device. Its subdued gray-and-blue casing suggested it was medical in nature, a portable scanner for field use. The style was common nearly three decades ago but had been abandoned after considerable issues with interference with sync drives on atmospheric vessels and with certain types of communication devices. Most of the tech of the installation used randomized quantum elements, invulnerable to such simple interference.

“This won’t even get us out of the room.” Her hopes flattened. Rachel had seemed so pleased with her prize. “We cannot use this to open the doors, if that’s what you’re saying. They don’t work that way.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” She lofted the device in a little victory wave. “We’re inviting the party to us. And you’re gonna help, whiz kid.”

The term meant nothing, but Erelah guessed it was a type of off-hand compliment. “Apologies?”

“These puppies disrupt the same communication frequency the UEC uses.” Rachel’s voice rushed with excitement. “You’re smart enough to modify it to send a message. If my people are listening, they’ll notice. Instant rescue.”

Erelah looked down at the modest-looking thing and up into Rachel’s hopeful expression. What the healer was asking involved many unknowns. Considering the basic state of neglect to the compound, the personnel here were more soldiers than techs. Nevertheless, their captors would notice the signal eventually.

Erelah chewed her lip. It was a big gamble. So far, Selto seemed content to play the beneficent host. How would he react to such a discovery? If this were “polite house arrest,” as Rachel called it, he might make things considerably uncomfortable.

“I see your wheels turning, kiddo. Whatcha thinking?”

“
If
I can do this, at best we might be able to send out a simple binary message. Our time frame would be limited by how long Selto’s people take to notice it.” She paused. “Hiding it would decrease the likelihood of that.”

“Good.” Rachel grinned. “I’ll stow it in the medical bay when that asshole Ceric comes to bring me back there for more of Selto’s busy work.”

Erelah had already loosened the cover from the device. She glanced up from the complex mass of circuits. “When will that be?”

Rachel counted on her fingers. Then, “About thirty minutes. No pressure.”

49

That’s why they’re called ‘marks.’ You don’t get close. You don’t make them pets or get stupid ideas that they could see things your way.

Asher spent the remainder of the day stalking the darkened catwalks above the hab area. In its better days, the place was essentially a giant machine, churning out mass quantities of cesium to fuel the vessels of war and commerce for a quarter of the Known Worlds. Now it was little more than a rusting skeleton. Like much of the Reaches.

He had never known this place in any other state. Like the men and women of his age, he had to rely on descriptions provided by those elder to him. In his experience, they tended to embellish and assign a golden quality to things before the Collapse. It was their communal fairytale, one he could not share. It put him on the outside of it. Just as being a hybrid put him on the outside of everything else.

Outsiders. Survivors.

He scoffed. She had called them the same. As if she knew him or his life. When
he
was the one walking around with
her
wedged deep in his brain like a splinter.

His hands tightened around the rail. The knuckles were white.

Then why did it sting so much?

Stick to the plan. You made a deal. This will all be set and over.

The nightmare of the past two years would be over. He could go back. This time granted a hero’s return as well.

Back to what?

An irritated grunt pushed out of him. He straightened, shrugging his arms, vaguely aware of how much a madman he was, muttering to himself in a darkened corner.

The girl’s memory bubbled up, just like the others: unbidden, unwelcome.

Your brother is dead.

I signed the warrant myself.

Maynard’s dark eyes beneath the inky hood of slick hair. The hungry monster ready to feast on hurt.

Jon could not be dead. Could not have left me to this world alone. What little remained of hope guttered like a candle in a harsh breeze. He cannot die…

Asher shook his head.

The catwalk rumbled beneath his feet. Someone approached. Through the gaps in the complicated labyrinth of pipes and conduits, he glimpsed two guards. Not a patrol. They’d already been past.

They were here for him.

His stomach tensed. One of them was Ceric. The hard lines of their shoulders and the way they kept their bodies at an angle to him meant he had gone from a barely tolerated guest to a hostile.
Something had changed.

“Selto wants you,” said Ceric. The corner of his mouth twitched. There was dark amusement there.

“I need to go to my quarters first.” He stepped forward, keeping his moves casual.

The men barred his way. “Now.”

50

Asher descended the short flight of steps into the control suite. The space was a semi-circle with the horizontal surface of a main hub glowing at its center. Ulrid’s back was to the door, his broad shoulders rigid with attention as he worked. The darkened screens of the surrounding interfaces glinted in the hub’s cast-off light. The rest of the room was in more disarray than usual. Once-vital equipment silently decayed under a layer of dust.

Asher paused; Ceric’s rifle muzzle prodded his back. They waited in an awkward quiet for Ulrid to acknowledge them. From the strange tension in the air, Asher had a bone-deep feeling that whatever held the older man’s attention was not good. An alert projected over the surface of the hub. It was silenced too quickly for Asher to read.

“Ceric.” Ulrid waved a hand, beckoning. The sergeant strode past, purposefully jostling Asher. He watched the two men engage in a hushed exchange.

Ulrid placed a hand on his second’s shoulder, a gesture that seemed almost fatherly. A dark little part of him reminded Asher of a time when Ulrid had regarded him that way, like a son. But no more.

He scoffed inwardly, dismissing the errant wave of regret.

Their conversation done, the sergeant nodded in salute to Ulrid and strode for the door. On his way out, Ceric directed one final withering stare at Asher.

The heavy metal hatch shut. Asher cleared his throat. “If you needed me, you just had to ask nice.”

Still Ulrid did not turn to look at him. A bad sign, he decided.

“One of my men found this in the medisuite.” Ulrid cast a large hunk of plastic across the marred surface of the hub. His voice was odd and evaluating, somewhere between accusing and not.

Asher looked. It was the remains of a handheld device. A set of EM nodes were adhered to the sides with bits of salvaged wire. It had once had a blue-and-gray cover, like any common medical device.

Asher clenched his jaw. Northway.

He forced his voice to remain neutral. “And?”

“It’s been modified to send a rudimentary signal.” He studied him. “Any guesses as to who they were signaling? I’m giving you a chance to confess now.”

At this, Asher nearly snorted, but thought better considering the red angry swath that was Ulrid’s face. He cleared his throat. “Confess what?”

“Don’t be stupid, boy. You’ve always shown weakness when it came to women.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Enough lies,” Ulrid countered. “You’re determined to be a curse on my life, aren’t you?”

“’Cause things have been going well so far.”

“A joke. You’re going to joke now?” Ulrid was now fully incensed. Asher barely had time to steel himself before the older man’s blow caught him on the jaw. He staggered back.

“You never took anything seriously. Did you? Never learned. I should have figured you’d get yourself burned. I was stupid to come to your defense. My entire career ended. For you.”

“Guess that means you’re not going to help, are you?” Asher massaged his jaw. A hard knot was already starting to form there.

“Ravinia ruined you. Your mother was an idealist. Those are the most dangerous kind of people. They never have to lift a weapon, yet somehow manage to get people killed.” He righted his clothes and ran a hand across his hair, as if surprised by his own sudden loss of self-control.

An electric realization settled in Asher’s gut. “You took over on your own. You mutinied. You run Tintown. Not Ironvale.”

That was the reason behind the feeling of walking in the wake of something damning and final. They’d gone renegade. Whatever drive tech the girl could offer, Ulrid would keep for himself and sell to the highest bidder.

“Any Guild willing to burn a loyal soldier for another man’s sins isn’t worthy of my allegiance,” Ulrid growled.

The skin across the back of Asher’s neck tightened. “You never meant to deal with Ironvale for me. You meant to keep the tech.”

Ulrid crossed his arms. “Never were the brightest, were you?”

Asher drew in breath to speak. But thought better of it.