Windswept (8 page)

“You know I was joking, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t. If it weren’t for rum, we wouldn’t have the cash to help people like you stay free.”

Banks cleared his throat. “In that case, I’m excited to see the lovely refinery that protects and supports us all.”

“Hey, there’s no need to go overboard,” I said. “The place
is
a dump.”

I’d told Jilly to wait for us at the north end of Sou’s Reach on a strip of beach that no one claimed as their turf because of its proximity to the refinery’s waste pipes. Sou’s Reach didn’t want to be responsible for the sticky, stinky mess, and none of the bordering Wards wanted to deal with the potential for cleanup. It was the perfect spot for a pickup, and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw Jilly standing there, a green and brown WalWa corporate bus behind her. The launch bumped up onto shore, and we climbed out into the black, foamy surf. The one-eyed Breach carried the body.

“You are getting such a raise,” I said as we approached Jilly. “But I’m afraid this ride’s a bit bigger than we need.”

“No worries,” she said, then looked at the ground.

“What?”

Jilly looked back at the bus, then shook her head. There was a squeak of metal, and she leaped back as the bus’s rusty suspension gave way. Three dozen burly, dirty men with no necks and grimy coveralls climbed out. It took me a moment to recognize the insignia on their left pockets: they all worked at the cane refinery. There was one more squeak from the bus, and a man in a shiny white suit hopped to the ground and walked toward me. “Sister Padma,” said Evanrute Saarien, “what are we to do with you?”

“Nothing, Rutey, if you know what’s good for you and your testicles,” I said, as Jilly ran to my side. “You OK?” I asked her.

“They were blocking the road as I pulled up,” she said. “Made me stop and let them on.”

“Were they armed?”

“No.”

“Then next time, step on the gas,” I said. “When you have ten tons of steel and they only have one ton of flesh, you win.”

“Sister Padma, don’t take it out on the girl,” said Saarien, his voice slick as a molasses spill. “How was she to know how we do things in the city?”

“True,” I said, “how could she know you hire former goons for your brute squad?”

I heard one of the Breaches gasp.

Saarien shook his head. “You would say something like that. Something that mocks our brothers and sisters in the Struggle against the harshest strains of corporate bondage.”

“Once a goon, always a goon,” I said. “What do you want?”

“Me?” he said, putting his manicured hands on his lapels. “I want nothing but to help these people and give them the opportunities and joys that Indentured life could never bring.”

“If that’s your way of saying you want to pinch them for your headcount, get stuffed,” I said. “You may have stolen everyone else from me, but you’re not getting this lot.”

Saarien’s smile didn’t lose an erg of energy. “Sister Padma, you really think they’d be better off in Brushhead? Cleaning out sewage? Where’s the fulfillment? Where’s the advancement? I can offer them positions that they’ll be able to move out of quickly and easily. How many people do you have toiling away in the same Slots?”

“That’s beside the point! I made the recovery, and that means I get to add these people to my headcount.”

“But you recovered them under false pretenses,” said Saarien. “I mean, really, Sister Padma… calling the police on my crew? What kind of Solidarity is that?”

“The same kind you used whenever you snagged Breaches for yourself?” I said. “You really think throwing more people into your refinery is going to make it work better?”

“Our output is the highest on Santee,” said Saarien.

“Because everyone else’s places are starving for the parts and labor you keep taking for yourself,” I said. “Maybe if you actually listened to everyone else during Union meetings instead of whining about what
you
need, you’d remember that.”

“Looks to me like you’re the one putting herself ahead of what’s good for the Union,” said Saarien. “I hear you spend more time trying to get in good with Tonggow than you do with your own people.”

I bit back a shout. “Rutey, what does it matter to you if I add five more people to my headcount? They’ll still be in the Union. Isn’t that what matters?”

“What matters is that you play by the rules,” said Saarien.

“I do,” I said. “And the rules say whoever makes the recovery gets the bodies.”

“Bodies?” said one of the old ladies.

“You
are
going to kill us!” screeched the other.

“It’s just an expression,” I said over my shoulder, but Mimi was already bawling, and the two semi-comatose old ladies joined in. I turned to put a hand on Mimi’s shoulder to calm her, but got a punch in the face instead. Not a slap. A close-fisted, arm-swung-way-back haymaker that had me seeing stars. I staggered, lost my footing and collapsed in a heap.

When my head cleared, I looked up at the Breach with the scarred face. Her one good eye narrowed. “Don’t you ever lay hands on her again.” And then she kicked sand in my face.

By the time I got to my feet and wiped the sticky muck from my mouth, the Breaches filed behind Saarien’s thugs and onto the bus. One of the goons had draped the dead Breach over his shoulder like a stack of cane. “Hey!” I yelled, staggering to my feet, “they’re with me, you assholes!” The goons turned, and one of them put a hand the size of a baby in my face. I slapped it away, which felt just like slapping a brick wall coated in meat.

As the bus rumbled away, Saarien leaned out a window and waved. “Thank you for supporting Sou’s Reach again, Sister Padma!” he called, holding up a closed fist. “Solidarity!”

“You bastard!” I yelled. “If I get my hands on you, I’m going to pound you until your brains are jelly!” I tried to give him the finger, but my now-throbbing hand couldn’t move.

“That wasn’t the picture of Solidarity that I’d expected,” Banks called out from behind me. I spun around; he was peeking out from in the launch’s pilot house.

“What are you still doing there?” I said.

“I’m not a fan of conflict,” he said, hopping off the boat. “Those guys looked like they were full of it.”

“They’re full of something,” I said.

“He wasn’t with WalWa, right?” said Banks. “Some kind of undercover thing? I mean, that guy’s white suit looked like something out of Corporate Recruitment.”

“That’s because he was, before he Breached,” I said. “I guess he liked the cut of the clothes.”

“And he runs a refinery? Shouldn’t he be doing, y’know, recruitment?”

“He does,” I said. “But he also has to eat, and that means he has to hustle, just like the rest of us. It’s not like the old days when you had ships lining up ten deep at the anchor, all of ’em full of crews waiting to jump ship. If we want to stay free, everyone works at everything, including the dirty stuff.” I wiped my good hand on my jacket. “Though how that son of a bitch keeps that suit clean is a mystery.”

“You don’t get along?”

“No, no, we’re the best of friends. That’s why I let him shanghai your buddies to his little molasses pit.” I patted his shoulder. “Come on. If you ever want to see them again, we need to move.”

“Where?” said Jilly.

“There,” I said, pointing to a sand dune just ahead.

“What for?”

“Better signal.”

From the top of the dune, we had a clear view of Santee City, all its lights now blazing in the purple twilight. I took Banks by the shoulders and turned him toward the Emerald Masjid, the warning lights on its spires fading on and off. “Your pai working?” I said.

Banks blinked, then nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Dial nine-nine-nine, then tell whoever picks up that you’re a Breach, and your friends have left you behind. They’re on a WalWa bus heading up the beach, toward the big green tower.”

“Why me?”

“Authenticity,” I said. “Dial.”

Banks shrugged, then relaxed. His eyes glazed over, then he repeated what I’d told him, giving me a puzzled look the whole time. “They just thanked me and said to wait here,” he said. “Who was that? The police?”

“Nope,” I said. “Nine-nine-nine dials straight to the local WalWa HQ.”

The blood rushed from Banks’s face. “I called WalWa?”

“Yep,” I said. “They’ve probably got you tracked and pinpointed as we speak.”

Banks opened his mouth, then grabbed me by the lapels of my deck jacket. “How could you do this to me?” he shrieked. “How could you turn me back in?”

“Relax, Counselor,” I said, flipping his hands off me. “Just because they know where you are doesn’t mean they can get you. Besides, you’re with me.”

Banks tensed again. “That hasn’t been working so well today.”

“Hey, I got you this far, right?”

Banks nodded.

“Then I’m going to get you the rest of the way,” I said. “We just have to catch up with the bus and get your shipmates back.

“You planning on calling some secret reinforcements?” said Banks, trailing behind.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said.

“I’m starting to learn not to trust your manners,” he said.

It was a short hike to where Jilly had stashed her tuk-tuk behind a pile of rusted, rotting piping, right on the stinky side of the refinery. “Keep the lights and stereo off,” I said to Jilly as she cranked the engine. “And hang back a bit.”

The only good thing about being on this beach was that the roads sucked for bigger, heavier vehicles. That meant we could make up plenty of ground that the bus couldn’t. Within a few minutes, the taillights came into view. “Stop here,” I said, and Jilly eased into the brakes.

“Is this when the backup arrives?” asked Banks.

“Soon,” I said, leaning out of the tuk-tuk and looking up at the evening sky. “OK,” I said to Jilly as I climbed out, “you’re going to go back to Brushhead straight for the Union Hall. Ask for Lanny, tell him I sent you, and that you need a provisional hack license.”

“I’m not getting a license,” said Jilly.

“Then you’re also not getting this,” I said, holding up the second half of the fifty-yuan note along with the two C-notes. “Nor this beautiful signing bonus.”

Jilly’s eyes grew wide at the bills. “I have to take a test?”

“You know how to stop, start, and steer,” I said, “that should be enough. Wait at the Hall. I’ll get word to you tomorrow. Go.”

She nodded and turned the tuk-tuk around. Banks hopped out. “Oh, no,” I said.

“If you’re going to rescue my friends, you’re going to need me,” he said.

“What, so you can convince them to stay, like you did back at the beach?” I said.

“I was outnumbered,” he said. “And scared.”

“It’s about to get even more crowded and scary,” I said. A few bundles of lights appeared over the horizon, slowed, then started to get bigger. As Jilly zipped away, Banks stared at the sky, his mouth opening wider as the lights got stronger.

“Right on time,” I said. “You may want to cover your ears.”

Banks gave me a funny look, but he put his hands to his ears as a gentle whine from overhead grew bigger and louder. A dozen searchlights flicked on at once, making the road so bright you’d think it was noon. The whine became a hurricane shriek as four WalWa fast-attack airships descended on the bus, their rotor fans kicking up a blinding dust storm. The airships hung around the bus like angry, armored birds, an effect made worse when the loudspeakers screeched to life. “YOU ARE IN STOLEN PROPERTY. STOP THE VEHICLE AND PREPARE TO BE SEARCHED.”

i would like to leave now
, Banks texted me.

Follow me
, I replied, then hit the dirt and crawled toward the bus.

this doesn’t look like leaving
, texted Banks.

You’re going to have to trust me.

moving toward the dangerous people.

Repeat: You’re going to have to trust me.

do i have a choice?

Of course. You can come with me or stay.

what kind of a choice is that?

More than you had before
.

The airships descended, their rotors spinning dirt in our faces. The intakes created Force-Ten dust devils that could flay a person in seconds. I hoped the pilots hadn’t gotten sloppy and stopped following their procedures, otherwise my obituary would start with “Sucked through a fan like a bug” – not the way I wanted to be remembered.

still trusting you though i have now wet myself

When I say so, we get up and run.

All four ships were just a few meters off the ground, their screaming turbines rattling my teeth. I counted down as the ships got closer and closer, the dust devils getting bigger and bigger, swirling around each other like dervishes until they almost touched–

GO.

I ran for the bus as hard as I could, not taking my eyes off its taillights, even as the rotor wash threatened to knock me off my feet. I ran as the dust battered my face like so much buckshot and got into my lungs, ran until the airships were right on top of me–

The rotors screamed as the pilots goosed their throttles, the dust devils blowing into each other and canceling each other out. The path was clear, and I charged past the airships and dove underneath the bus as the ships clanked to the ground.

As I lay there, the bus’s driveshaft a few inches above my nose, I felt something grab my leg. I looked back; Banks was on his stomach, spitting and coughing.
i think i shat myself
, he texted.

I promise not to tell.

how did you do that?

Standard WalWa blockade formation
, I texted.
They put out a final blast of air to clear the landing space so the goons aren’t in the middle of a dust storm.

how did you know

Business school. Hostile Acquisitions workshop. Lost a lot of classmates during finals.

i am so glad i’m a lawyer.

Above our heads was a maintenance hatch, its latches scarred by years of broken socket wrenches and beat-up pliers. The Colonial Directorate gave all the funding towards their air and ocean fleets, which meant their bus mechanics never got the new tools or parts they kept begging for. And just for a little extra kick in the teeth, WalWa policy wouldn’t allow the mechanics to buy from us, so the poor bastards had to work with broken, worn-down equipment. Fine with me; it meant I could unbolt the hatch with my multi-tool without any problems.