Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) (39 page)

Reese dropped her head. They were threatening her. If they suspected her of bluffing, what would they do to her and the crew? They might just kill them and leave with the crystals. They might do that anyway. “Any help you could give us would be greatly appreciated,” she said finally. “Just don’t step on my engineer’s talons.”

The man’s cheer magically returned. “We’ll do nothing of the sort. Send us your needs and the coordinates and we’ll take care of business.”

“Will do. Thanks,
Crawler
.
Earthrise
away.”

Reese slammed the channel closed and said, “Blood and
death
, arii’sen, we’re in trouble now.” She turned and punched the intercom. “All hands to the mess hall, and fast.”

“We need to sabotage the engines,” Reese said. “So that it looks real.”

“Are you crazy?” Irine asked. “We won’t be able to run!”

“But they’re coming to the ship,” Kis’eh’t said. “If they arrive and discover our engines aren’t broken, they’ll figure out our real reason for sending the distress call.”

“So it has to be real,” Reese said. “Bryer, can you do it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good,” Reese said. “Go make it happen.”

The Phoenix loped out of the room. To the rest of them, Reese said, “We’re going to have boarders. What I’m worried about is that they’ll just shoot us all and haul the cargo away.”

“We’ll have to hide it,” Sascha said.

“Somewhere that’s locked,” Kis’eh’t said. “As locked as we can. Voice, at least.”

“More than voice,” Reese said. “Voice prints can be forced.”

A moment’s tense silence.

Irine said, “There’s a cabin that’s DNA-lockable.”

“There’s
what
?” Reese asked, incredulous. DNA-locking required voice prints, blood matches and iris checks, all from a conscious individual within a pre-set stress index. “I didn’t install a DNA lock anywhere.”

“I know,” Irine said. “I had it put in.” Her tail swished. “I leave it open almost all the time. But for an hour or two it’s nice to know you won’t run into us.”

Reese stared at her. “You have sex in it?”

“Where you can’t find us by accident,” Irine said. “I did it for you.”

And in a twisted Harat-Shariin way, it was a great gift, one that would have required the twins to float above their own acculturation long enough to realize just how deeply it disturbed Reese to know about typical Harat-Shariin family relationships.

“How big is it?” Reese asked.

“It’s the storage closet across from our room,” Irine said. “It’s big enough.”

“And it’s locked to... “

“Me or Sascha.”

Reese set her hands on the table. “You or Sascha.”

“What are we waiting for?” Kis’eh’t said, getting to her feet. “We don’t have much time.”

“Go start moving the boxes,” Reese said to her.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Irine said once the door closed on the Glaseah. “You’re worried that I’ll give under pressure. Well, I won’t.”

Reese shook her head, but the Harat-Shar kept talking. “I’m not as soft as I act, I know. I might not be good with other people’s blood, but I’m pretty good with my own, I can handle it—”

“I’m not worried that you can’t handle it,” Reese said quietly. “I’m upset that you might have to. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Irine stopped, glanced at Sascha. They turned two sets of golden eyes to her. “We’re sure.”

Reese nodded. “Let’s get the boxes moved, then. Kis’eh’t was right about not having much time.”

The urgent fear infesting the
Earthrise
grew so intense Hirianthial could no longer remain asleep. He found himself staring at the cabinet while panicked thoughts careened against him, passing too swiftly for him to assign them to the appropriate person. They were so distracting it took him several minutes to understand that the reason he was staring at the cabinet was that he was on the clinic/lab floor, and the edges of the door weren’t furry, but blurred from tired eyes.

Allacazam didn’t object to him being awake, which was well; there was no way he’d fall back asleep with the ship in such turmoil. It was like closing one’s eyes while a hurricane tried to strip away the bedroom walls and windows. Instead, he tried gaining his feet and making his way to the sink to drink something. Bent over the water stream, Hirianthial wondered how long he’d been out. His entire body throbbed from the effort of remaining upright, and his limbs felt drenched with fatigue, too heavy to lift without tremendous effort. And his mental centers...

He couldn’t block the tumult out. He couldn’t even reliably distinguish between his own thoughts and the feelings rushing outside him, save by the mixed blessing that he was likely to be too tired for such emotional furor. He no longer felt shattered, but his emotional body was in the same state as his physical: too drained to respond to emergencies.

Perhaps it would be better to crawl back into the blankets and trust that no one would need him.

The door slid open for Kis’eh’t, who stopped abruptly at the sight of him.

“Oh... oh-no-no-no-REESE!
WE FORGOT ABOUT HIRIANTHIAL!”

Hirianthial wobbled as the shout rang through him on every level, driving the thoughts from his head.

Reese popped up behind the Glaseah, the warm chocolate hue of her skin draining to a grayish brown. He wondered if she would faint. “Blood and death! Where are we going to put him? If they find him—”

’They’ was accompanied by crisply imagined silhouettes, bulky shoulders, towering weapons, and then white teeth set in menacing grins.

“Can he walk?” Reese asked, then shook herself and said, “Can you walk? No, you have to run. We have to get you...
IRINE! CAN YOU FIT SOMEONE IN THAT CLOSET?
”

Distantly, “Are you crazy? We’ve barely fit in the boxes!”

Panic in waves now. Kis’eh’t said, “We could leave one of the boxes out and get him in there instead... “

“No,” Reese said. “If they can get even one of the boxes, why would they bother to keep us alive for the rest?”

“I wish I had a better idea what you were discussing,” Hirianthial managed.

Their minds focused on him, though unfortunately not on the same tangent: Kis’eh’t thought he looked terrifyingly weak, too weak to stand up to pirates and slavers, and Reese was busy being angry that he wasn’t either not there at all or not invisible. She pointed a finger at him. “If I have to rescue you again, I will throw a sack of rooderberries at your queen! Do you have a weapon?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to carry weapons!” Kis’eh’t said.

“I have a knife,” Hirianthial said.

For once, both of them had a unanimous thought: a knife was totally inadequate, ridiculous, insane.

“That’ll have to do,” Reese said. “Kis’eh’t, you stay here with him. Maybe they won’t think to look for him.”

“Don’t leave me here!” Kis’eh’t exclaimed. “I can’t defend him!”

“I’ll stay,” Sascha said, showing up. “If Irine and I stay split up—”
They can’t use us against one another.

Did he finish that sentence? Reese acted as if he did. “Good idea. Stay here—”

The ship bucked beneath their feet, tossing Reese against Kis’eh’t’s lower back. Anger, adrenaline, panic, distress—he couldn’t sort it out from the feel of the floor moving and slid down next to the cabinet.

“Bryer’s done the engines,” Sascha said. “It won’t be long now. Go on, Boss!”

Reese nodded. “There’s a small chance we’ll be able to bluff our way out of this.”

“Ha,” Sascha said.

“But if not—” Reese eyed them, then said, “Come on, Kis’eh’t. Come be steady for me.”

“Aye, Captain,” Kis’eh’t said, and leaped after the human.

Sascha turned to him and squatted a fair enough distance that Hirianthial almost thought he could tell the difference between their ideas.

“You’re in a bad way,” Sascha said. “Can I help? Or at least not make it worse?”

“Explain what’s going on,” Hirianthial said. “I need to focus.”

“Turns out we accidentally signed up to be drug-runners for mob bosses,” Sascha said, backing away as Hirianthial forced himself to his feet again. “We decided to call Fleet by sending a fake distress call, but guess who answered it first.”

“I’d guess someone on the wrong payroll,” Hirianthial said.

“Worst part, it’s in Sector Andeka,” Sascha said. “We’re kind of thinking it’s all connected... the ring you busted up, this drug business. And they know that we’ve got an Eldritch on board.”

“So they want... the crystals. And me.”

Sascha nodded.

“More,” Hirianthial began and lost his breath. He gathered it again and said, “More excitement than I planned for. This late in my life.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive so far,” Sascha said after his uncertainty solidified around the words. “We really thought you were going to die of whatever those crystals did to you.”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” Hirianthial said. “They merely died where I could feel it.” Water helped. He drank another handful from the tap. Had he even turned it off since staggering here? Probably not.

“Are you... are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Hirianthial said. “But I’m not yet.” He sighed and splashed his face.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been this scared,” Sascha said.

Hirianthial glanced at him and could barely see his features for the cold, compressed black lining around him. He recognized it: not the fluorescent spikes of panic or the mindless explosions of adrenaline-fueled terror, but the bitter stillness of facing one’s own mortality.

“I sympathize,” Hirianthial said after a moment. “But we’ll survive this.”

“And if we don’t?” Sascha asked.

“Then we’ll die,” Hirianthial replied.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

It did, strangely—was that Sascha’s response?—no, truly, it was his own. “Surprisingly, yes.” Hirianthial double-checked, then nodded. “It does.” He laughed haltingly, fighting his ribs for every breath. “I never thought the sun would dawn again on that day.”

“But you’re not afraid,” Sascha said, his own black cold loosening.

“No,” Hirianthial said, and found that as surprising as the first. “No, if I must, I could die here.”

Sascha did not understand, but the puzzle distracted him from his fears. Well enough... the puzzle distracted Hirianthial as well—until the terror on the ship crested, carrying with it a set of new presences, hard, violent and cruel.

“They’ve arrived,” Hirianthial said.

Twelve men appeared out of the nauseous nowhere that filled a Pad tunnel. All of them human. All of them carrying themselves like muscle. The one at point had a short amber beard and changeable eyes, the kind that could be any light color, the kind that got most of their character from their owner’s expression.

The man was grinning, but Reese hated him on sight. She hardened herself and prepared her bluff.

“So, Captain,” he said. “Having a little extra trouble? Or was that explosion an attempt to weasel your way out of a tight spot?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Reese said. Beside her Irine and Kis’eh’t remained very quiet.

“I don’t like dawdling, Captain, so let’s just lay things out, shall we? You’re carrying special cargo for our mutual employer. Either you’ve actually had engine trouble, which we’ll fix, or you were trying to get out of your contract... which we’ll also fix. Either way we’re here to do the job. You can either help us or we’ll make sure you don’t make any more mistakes.”

“Are you suggesting that I’d bust up my own engines just to yell for help?” Reese asked. “You must be kidding. You know how much money I spent
fixing
my engines?”

“I can imagine,” he said, still showing teeth.

“Just give us the parts so we can fix the blood-cursed things and get the shipment to the boss,” Reese said. “I don’t want your help and I certainly don’t need you playing nursemaid. The money’s talked. I’m not missing out on it.”

“Tough words,” he said. “But we’re not leaving until we’re sure you’re not going to sneak away when we turn our backs.”

“I signed a contract,” Reese said hotly. “That might not mean anything to you people, but keeping my word is what keeps me in business.”

“Nice speech,” he said. “You should be glad I’m not one of those types what gets angry at being called names.” He nodded to the men behind him. “Move.”

They spread out. More than half headed down the corridor. Two started setting up a portable Pad, one that would allow them to return to the
Crawler
. The others stood at their leader’s back.

“Should I offer you coffee or are we going to just stand here until your people finish their survey?” Reese asked, exasperated.

“I was about to escort you to your engine room,” he said and grinned. “If your problems are real, I’ll have that coffee with you later and maybe we’ll... talk.”

She was so accustomed to ignoring the twins that it took her several heart-beats to realize that he wasn’t interested in talking. “You’re not my type.”

“You might change your mind,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Reese said.

He laughed.

“Don’t even say ‘I like them with fire,’” Reese said. “I’ll vomit.”

“I was thinking more ‘I like them spunky,’ but that might be improper language in front of a lady.” He drew the last word out until it passed the realm of insult and entered the realm of threat. “Move along then, Captain. I’m sure you know the way. And take your two pretty minions with you, slowly.”

“Go in front,” Reese said to the two, and was glad when they didn’t object. She wanted to be between them and their boarders; they couldn’t fit in the corridor abreast and she couldn’t bear the image of them so close to the men. It made the trip to the engines the longest ever. She could hear their breathing and the creak of their leather vests, and the smell of metal and animal musk made the hair along the back of her neck rise.

They entered the engine compartment to find six of the men crawling over the Well drive. Bryer was being held by an additional two.

“So?”

One of them dropped to the ground next to the joint attachment. “We’re still looking.”

“Take your time,” the leader said. “Wouldn’t want any mistakes.”

The other guffawed and ducked back into the housing. Reese had been hoping they would shuffle or sound drugged or act like undisciplined thugs, but though they weren’t saluting or marching in formation their motions were crisp and their gazes alert and their patter, alas, indicated they had a good understanding of mechanics.

Bryer worked magic, as far as Reese was concerned. But he’d always worked it to fix the engines, not to take them apart. She stared at a fixed point on the wall and tried not to think about what would happen if—no. She just wouldn’t think.

One, two, four men appeared. A fifth.

“Well?”

“Looks legit,” the fifth said.

“Can you fix it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. It’s a basic repair.”

The leader prodded Reese between the shoulder-blades. “And you don’t have equipment for a basic repair?”

“I’m not exactly swimming in money,” Reese said.

“Get to it, then,” the leader said.

“Right.”

They turned back to the Well drive and their leader said, “About that cup of coffee, then—”

“Wait!”

Reese’s heart thudded so hard she shook.

“Damn, this is clever! And it almost worked!” The sixth man laughed. “Don’t kill the Phoenix. I want his secrets.”

“It’s a fake?” the leader asked, his voice hardening.

“Sabotage,” the last man said, sliding off one of the bars and wiping his forehead with the back of a grease-streaked hand. “But subtle as a snake. They stressed the parts themselves so they’d fail exactly the way they would with time. I almost missed it, but a good screening of the parts showed the metal’s not as old as it would have to be to have built up that much pressure.”

The smack the leader delivered to the back of Reese’s head was so abrupt she bit her own tongue. “You’re going to be so sorry.”

Reese swallowed blood and said, “I wasn’t looking forward to our ‘date’ anyway.”

The men laughed and their leader’s humiliation bought her another blow. This one set her ears ringing.

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” Reese said.

The leader’s glare transformed into a rictus. He spun around and struck Irine so hard she cried out and crumpled, grasping at her shoulder. Reese froze.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said. “Here’s the story. You give us the cargo and the spy and we’ll leave you alone. Very simple. We’ll even leave you enough scrap metal to fix your engines... if you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

“And the alternative?” Reese asked. “Let me guess, something original. You’ll kill us all and take what you want anyway.”

The man stamped on Irine’s instep and the Harat-Shar’s shriek shattered Reese’s bravado. “Something like that. We might have a little fun with you first, just to put the living fear of God into you.”

Reese said, “Fine. I’ll take you to the cargo.”

“And the spy,” the man said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Reese said. “And no, I’m not being obstinate. What bleeding spy would we have on board? Besides an incompetent one incapable of warning us you were on our tails?”

“The Eldritch,” the man said.

“He’s dead,” Reese said.

“Then I’ll take his corpse along.”

Reese clenched her fists. “I want to keep it.”

“You want to keep a lot of things,” the man observed. “I want to take them. Guess who’s got the guns?” He smiled thinly. “First the cargo.”

“Fine,” Reese said. “This way.”

This time they forced her to take the lead and separated her from Irine and Kis’eh’t with several men. As she walked, she raced through her options... so few. Most of them involved bargaining, but there was nothing she had that the pirates couldn’t simply take given enough time. What thing of value could she possibly distract them with?

They reached the closet too soon. Reese stopped and nodded toward it. “They’re in there.”

“Unlock it,” Blond said. “I assume it’s locked.”

“She can’t,” Irine said. “Only I can... and you’ll have to fix me to make it work.”

He looked her over and said, “Awww, poor tiger-girl. Did I break a bone?”

“The door won’t open unless I’m within a certain stress range,” Irine said. “That’s not going to happen when I’m in pain.”

“Whatever,” the man said. He waved a hand. “Bring the torches.”

“You can’t do that!” Irine squeaked. “It’ll explode!”

“You bought a detonating DNA lock?” Reese asked incredulously.

Irine’s ears flattened, but not before the blush showed. “We really, really didn’t want you walking in on us.”

“She’s right,” one of the men said. “It’s got the manufacturer’s label.”

Blond shrugged. “Those things blow inward, not out. Get the torches.”

“Are you crazy?” Reese asked. “You’ll destroy the cargo!”

“Did you read your instructions, chocolate? That entire room could go up in flames and those boxes you bought will come out whole.” He nodded to the men. “Get moving. You two, find the spy and bring him to... oh, let’s say the mess hall. Somehow I doubt he’s a corpse. Besides, that cup of coffee’s sounding better and better.”

“They’re coming for me,” Hirianthial said.

Sascha said, “Reese and the others?”

“Already in their hands,” Hirianthial said.

“Then it’s up to us,” Sascha said, flexing his hands. “How many?”

“Two right now,” Hirianthial said. “Another ten on-board. They’re armed.”

Sascha growled. “We’d have to be lucky.”

Hirianthial leaned against the wall. The texture of the air around them had become too dense, too interwoven with violence and anger. “There’s only one guarding the bridge.”

“The bridge,” Sascha said. He straightened. “The distress call. They probably shut it off. We could get new a signal out... if they haven’t destroyed our comm facility.”

Hirianthial pulled the knife from his boot and tossed it to the Harat-Shar, who caught it with a frisson of silver-cold surprise.

“I can’t make it that far,” Hirianthial said. “The only way I can help is by distracting them.”

“Will that work?” Sascha asked, eyes wide.

“They’re looking for me,” Hirianthial said and managed a thin smile. “If they find me, they won’t have a reason to search the room. Good luck.”

“Hirianthial, wait!”

He stepped out into the corridor; the searchers were still four doors down.

“Down here,” he said.

They stopped and aimed their rifles at him.

“Presumably your employers prefer me alive to dead,” Hirianthial said. “Which suits me fine, since I’m not up to running.”

—
set us on fire like he did that building—heard he can read your mind from fifty paces—looks like if you pushed him he’d fall over
—

“Poor mortals,” Hirianthial said. “Any more afraid and you’d miss me if you shot.”

That sent sparks of anger shooting from them both. That the sparks were more real to him than the men gave Hirianthial cause for concern. Fortunately his tenuous hold on consciousness required so much energy he had none to spare for worry.

“You just come quietly,” one of them said.

“I had no other intention,” Hirianthial said. “Lead the way.”

“You first.”

He shrugged and started down the corridor, concentrating on setting his feet on the approximate location of the floor and bracing himself with a hand against the wall. The river of suspicion and resentment flowing past him felt so solid he kept trying to lean on it and surprising himself by beginning to fall.

“Are you drunk?” one of them asked abruptly.

“No,” Hirianthial said. “Just very, very sick.”

That gave them both unwelcome images of him vomiting.
—shouldn’t rush him—boss’ll kill me if he keels over on our watch—yuck
—

Hirianthial smiled grimly and kept going.

“Here,” one of them said finally. “In the mess hall.”

The Eldritch stopped at the door, barred by the miasma of black and sickened yellow, the smell of gagging bile and the sound of wailing. The distress was so real he couldn’t even see the door.

“Come on, pastehead, we don’t have all day.”

He grasped along the wall until he found the edge of the door. Even then he questioned his senses. Was that ridge the rounded molding on the wall or the softened edge of a halo-arch?

“Oh for—” The man behind him shoved an elbow into the small of his back with all the violence of a spear. His thoughts, edged like razors and raw as wounds, punched through the slight grip Hirianthial held on reality and shattered it. Was he on the floor? Standing up? Was the man looking down at him real or a construct formed out of Reese’s anger and Irine’s fear and Kis’eh’t’s numb horror?

He was fairly certain the blow to his ribs was real. Booted foot, his training supplied. He’d have a contusion, but the bone was fine.

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” a voice exclaimed.

“You didn’t do nothing. You pushed him.”

“Well, he was just standing there at the door like he couldn’t find it! What was I supposed to do? Let him hang there?”