Grimspace (25 page)

I manage to sit beside Velith quietly for all of ten minutes.

The inside of the vessel carries a strange sweet-and-sour tang. I'm not sure if it's an odor given off by the Morgut or a food source concealed somewhere. It's all I can do to keep from staring over my shoulder at them, but I don't want to show interest, either.

As a species, they're intelligent but savage, seldom seen on human worlds, primarily because they view us as a delicacy. Gehenna is the most liberal of ports, but after constant incident reports, they became the last non-Conglomerate world to restrict Morgut travel. Here on New Terra, they used to require a permit and a trainer sworn to control them and assume liability for their damages. That sums Farwan Corporation up right there. They don't care about loss of life, just property damage.

“How come they don't eat you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He doesn't need to turn his head to glance at me. The disconcerting placement of his eyes permits him to study me at his leisure. I'm almost accustomed to the insectile quality of his mannerisms, but I can't figure out how he manages to speak universal. Maybe he has a vocalizer implanted; that would seem to make sense.

“The Morgut'll eat anything. How can you work with them safely?”

His mandible twitches. “My body chemistry renders me poisonous to them.”

“Oh. That's convenient. I guess they make incredible enforcers. Strike terror into the hearts of hardened criminals.”

“Yes.” He inclines his head. “Though it is occasionally difficult to persuade them that our bounties would not be better served with a sweet glaze and mixed fruit.”

I grin a bit. “Was that a joke?”

“Perhaps.”

“I have to know, were you the ones who chased us into grimspace?”

“Your pilot is good,” Velith says. “The ghosts were clever and made tracking you exceedingly difficult.”

“I don't suppose—”

“No. Go to sleep, Sirantha.”

“I should have known you weren't Doc,” I mutter. “He never calls me Sirantha. And he doesn't need me to hold his hand during a landing, and he
doesn't
suffer from motion sickness.”

“I did not interpret him well? I adjudged him a scholarly individual, a beta male, who would behave with some timidity in certain situations.” He reacts like a vid-actor being advised his performance was over the top.

“You did all right faking the science stuff, although it helps that none of us have a clue what he's talking about half the time, but for personality, no. Not even close.” I sigh, tallying up all the inconsistencies. “Where is he, by the way?”

I don't want to believe he's dead. Nutty as it might sound, I sort of like this Slider. I don't doubt he'd kill if it were necessary, but I'm beginning to get a sense of his intellect. He prefers to think his way around problems.

Velith lifts one jointed shoulder in a fair approximation of a shrug. “I left him in a storage locker. I would surmise he has gotten out by now in some fashion.”

No wonder he pushed to get us off Gehenna as soon as possible. Some of the tension eases out of my shoulders, but then I realize I have something else to worry about. “That stuff you said about the lesions…did you make that up?”

He hesitates. “I…examined all the data and Dr. Solaith's notes, but I am not a scientist, and I needed you to jump to New Terra. The Morgut could not pass on Gehenna for obvious reasons, and I feared I would require their assistance to subdue you.”

“Why in the hell would you think that?” I put my hand to my head, meaning to mess with my hair as I tend to do when I'm nervous, but I find nothing but rough skin. Fragging bastard, no wonder he said it didn't matter if I shaved my head, and now I'm bald for nothing.

“You are a cunning and dangerous woman, Sirantha, wanted on every Conglomerate world for mass murder and wanton acts of terrorism.”

Shit.
From his point of view, he's the good guy, and it's astonishing he has been this polite to me. How ironic; it speaks well of him. I wish I had 245 with me; she could probably figure something out. But she's in the bag I dropped outside the san-shower.

Has March found it yet? Do they know I'm missing?

Desperation laces my voice. I've got less than an hour to think my way out of this. “Did it ever occur to you to that the Corp is guilty of disseminating false information? I'm the only survivor from the
Sargasso
but I didn't do that. The landing authority used override codes on our vessel and supplied incorrect coordinates, the wrong trajectory. They fragging
engineered
that crash.”

“Every convict claims he is innocent.”

I nod. Every scum-sucking lowlife he's captured has probably begged and pleaded, professing his innocence. I'm just one more in a long line; tough shit for me that in my case it's actually true. For the first time in my life, I can't see a way out.

He'll deliver me to the Corp, where they'll turn me over to Unit Psych Newel, who will work on me until I'm broken, until I confess to anything they want: Matins IV and DuPont Station, who knows what else. After all this, forget Whitefish, they're going to execute me. And the Corp comes off squeaky clean.

I can't fucking stand it. And then I realize there's another way. It goes against all my instincts, but my back's to the wall, and I will
not
let them win. There's one last act of defiance I can offer.

“At the hostel, would you have killed me if I screamed?” My voice sounds hoarse, urgent, and he turns his head then.

His mandibles flex as if he finds the question impolite. “Yes. Then your associates would have rushed to your aid too late; mine would have descended on the place like locusts. A messy situation, best avoided.”

Then I accomplished what I intended, saved Dina and March.
Huh, so this is what altruism feels like. It chafes a bit.
But I can't let myself think about March, or I won't have the strength to continue. I force the words out before I think better of them.

“Please…if you'd have done it then, do me this kindness. Do it now. Feed me to the Morgut afterward, I don't care. Just don't turn me over to the Corp alive.”

Velith clicks his claws together, a sound I interpret as exasperation. “I am not a murderer, Sirantha. I kill when I am presented with no viable alternative.”

Wouldn't you know it? A bounty hunter with a conscience.
That's it then. I'm out of ideas. Then my eyes light on the bracelet he slapped on my wrist. When we get off the ship, I can try to run, hope to reach two hundred meters out before I'm caught. Don't know whether I'm fast enough to manage it. I don't know if I'm brave enough to do that to myself on purpose.

But if I run, I might incite their predatory instincts. The Morgut might eviscerate me. And as far as I'm concerned, that's preferable to returning to a cell, going back to Psych Officer Newel. There comes a time when speculation ceases to matter and all planning comes down to instinct. Thinking has never been my strong suit anyhow. I just need to—

Grab Velith's arm and slash his claws across my forearm. He scrambles out of his seat like he thinks he's under attack; I'm finally showing my true colors, the crazed killer the Corp has painted me. But by the time he figures it out, it's too late. I work my thumb feverishly over the vein just beneath my elbow, and the blood really starts to flow.

It drips down my forearm and over my fingertips, crimson drops spattering the ki-pants I put on after my shower, intending to curl up next to March. The blood looks dark and obscene against the pale fabric, living art.

“What is the
matter
with you?” I can tell by his tone that he doesn't understand. Not surprising, this isn't something a sane person would do.

His long, thin body blocks the path to the cockpit, as if I would try to take over the ship. That's fine; it even works in my favor, as I'm heading the other way. Bracing my palms on the back of the seat, I bounce over, then it's clear to where the four Morgut sit, conversing in a low chitter.

Deliberately I draw my arm back and fan it across their faces. All four of them draw back as if struck; and then, as one, forked tongues flick out to sample my flavor. Watching their faces, seeing how the slit-pupil eyes dilate with a different sort of lust, I feel like I could puke, but instead, I murmur, “Good? Want more?”

And all hell breaks loose.

I expect to die.

When the first Morgut launches itself at me, I don't even flinch. The others follow in a fury, but I simply squeeze my eyes shut and stand my ground. But instead of going down beneath a wave of rending limbs, Velith shoves me behind him. I have no idea what's going on in his head, but he pushes me back so hard that I overbalance, slamming my head against the seat.

My vision fills with little flecks of light as I hit the floor. I hear grunts, sounds of scuffling, and weapon fire as if through a tunnel. Feel something hot and viscous spattering my face. I could crawl under the seats. Wait. Instead I push to my hands and knees, dizzy and nauseous. I don't know how much blood I've lost.

When I force my eyes open, the ridge along my brow throbs; maybe I hit my face on something on the way down. The carnage astonishes me. Of the five, only Velith's left standing, but he looks really fragged up. Two of the Morgut bodies are still convulsing, pestilent ooze boiling out of their wounds.

“Why? Why did you do that?” We voice the question in unison, although we're asking vastly different things.

“All I wanted was to die,” I whisper. “Why didn't you let me? You still get paid.”

He's bleeding in four places that I can see, a thin, delicate stream. Thought his blood would look different, but Vel is more like me than the Morgut. He's not a monster.

His claws click together, and it makes me feel his agitation. “I captured you alive, Sirantha. Never has a target been slain while in my charge, and
no one
is going to sully my impeccable record, not you, not them. Now sit down and shut up before I am tempted to see how much damage you can survive.”

The Silverfish slows. Even though it's a graceful descent, I feel the lessening altitude in my belly and in the way my knees bend slightly as if gravity asserts more influence closer to the ground. Don't know whether we've reached Corp headquarters or if the pilot heard the commotion, but I'm betting on the latter.

A low, unpleasant noise comes over the comm system, and Velith cocks his head, listening. “No.
Nicht.
Do
not
come back here. Everything is fine. Keep going.” Then he lapses into the chittering I find unintelligible.

But whatever he's saying doesn't appear persuasive, and the Morgut pilot puts us down so deftly I barely feel the touchdown. Whatever else may be said of them, they know their way around a ship. I hear the door to the cockpit unseal with a soft whoosh, but Velith greets him with a shot to the head, and his brains spray out bile green against the bulwark, more modern art.

He seems to read my reaction and lifts a shoulder in that endearing almost shrug. “I never liked him.”

That strikes me as absurdly amusing, but I manage to contain my laughter, knowing it will come out sounding like hysteria. “Why did you kill him?”

“They were clutchmates. He would have attacked us if I had not reacted thus, and I am in no condition to engage in unnecessary violent confrontation.”

I shake my head. “You're crazier than they say I am. You should've let them kill me. What's waiting for me at Corp headquarters is so much worse.”

With that I turn and head for the door. I'm not afraid of him anymore. My peaceable surrender has accomplished something that I don't quite comprehend, but it seems he feels honor bound to protect me until we reach our destination. I can use that to my advantage. As he pointed out, he isn't in top shape right now. Neither am I, so we'd be two cripples mixing it up with our crutches, so to speak.

Hope neither one of us is that dumb.

I hit the button that unseals the outer doors, and the stairs lower with the smooth sound of well-maintained machinery. A gust of frosty air sends a chill straight through me, and when I peer out, I see that we're in the middle of nowhere.
Big surprise.
But instead of a field full of golden grain, we've landed in smooth, white tundra, mountains in the distance, also white-capped. I'm fragging hungry, so they remind me of choclaste cakes with cream sauce on top. The sky looks as if it may snow, and the light diffused through the clouds appears touched with gold.

We can't be more than a half hour from headquarters by Silverfish flight, but as previously noted, these ships are insanely fast. I have no way of calculating the distance from here to Ankaraj, although the Corp is probably tracking our flight in some fashion.

Sure enough, the comm crackles to life in the cockpit. “
Spiral
, this is control. Do you need assistance? We show you stalled in the Teresengi Basin.”

Velith bounds for the cockpit, leaping with unsettling grace over the corpses that litter the aisle. Being battle-sore hasn't decreased his agility. Tapping the panel, he replies, “Yes, but I would also appreciate some information. Why does my target claim that Farwan Corporation is responsible for the crash on Matins IV? Why does the target prefer to provoke a pack of Morgut to being extradited into your custody?”

His questions meet with an uncomfortable silence.

Shit.

Now I'm the one running for the cockpit. I struggle to turn off the feed, but he holds me away, waiting for the answer. My heart starts to pound because I know…I
know
we're in danger. They're not going to send aid now; they're going to send aerial assault. I know how they think. I know about their damage control. When he started asking the wrong questions, he ceased to factor for them.

“She's insane,” the controller finally responds. “She would say anything. Just sit tight, and help will arrive shortly. We have a unit en route.”

“Come on.” I tug at his arm. “We have to get out of here. Right now. We
cannot
be on this ship when they get here.”

“They claim you are mentally unbalanced, Sirantha.” I wish I could read his expression, but I'm incapable of distinguishing anything but the twitch of his mandible and the clicking of his claws, and maybe I interpret those incorrectly as well. “Your behavior suggests paranoia, at best.”

“You half believe me.” I grab him by the collar. Mary, he looks strange, still wearing Doc's clothes that are too big and too short, so badly shredded by Morgut fangs. “Or you wouldn't have mentioned it. I've raised some doubt in you. Give me this much. Come off the ship with me. Over there…” I'm pulling him now, and I'm surprised to feel him follow. With my free hand, I point to a dark jumble of rock in the distance. “To wait. If they really intend to rescue us, there will be a search party and we'll go to meet them peacefully. I won't give you any more trouble, and you can forget you ever saw me. But if I'm right…then we don't die when they blow the
Spiral
all to hell and claim it crashed. Velith, please.”

“Very well,” he says finally. “A test. But we will need some supplies if we are to wait with any degree of comfort.”

He packs with an economy of motion that March would envy and hands me the bag to carry. That's when I notice his shoulder, half-torn from the socket, and I wonder how he can bear it. Before we step out onto the crisp snow, covered with an icy crust that professes we're the first to have stepped foot here in a long time, we wrap up in blankets. The outcropping sits a little farther out than it seems, but we make the trek just as I glimpse the white trail in the sky that means something's headed our way.

I know he wants the ship to land, but it won't. So I crouch down, flattening myself against the dark stone. Make sure the gray blanket wraps around my head, which feels like it's covered in hoarfrost. Velith hesitates, then mimics me.

“You have succeeded in making me uneasy,” he whispers.

I don't reply to that. There's no need. As soon as he asked those questions, he turned himself into a security risk and a liability. Why would they pay him when they can just kill us both? But then I know how they think, and I got him to listen, praise Mary.

The Corp vessel overhead spots the Silverfish, and instead of lessening altitude to land and offer assistance, I see the blue-white flare of guns overhead. Beside me, the bounty hunter watches, barely breathing, as the
Spiral
goes up in flame. We hold very still as the ship seems to skim the area overhead, then wheels off, returning to headquarters to report us as loose ends tied up.

Without a word, he reaches over and inputs a code on my bracelet. It drops off my wrist and onto the snow. For a moment longer we watch the
Spiral
smolder.

“So how does it feel to be dead?” I offer him a bittersweet smile, hating what I've done to him, what I've taught him.

Sometimes there's nothing worse than the truth.