Her Cyborg Awakes (Diaspora Worlds) (8 page)

Sabralia got the medkit to take off the fluid
pouch, and Kaistril drank a meal replacement, then went back to sleep. She
stroked his hair for awhile. He was going to be all right.

Kaistril slept for most of the next day, though he
did move around a little, to the hygiene chamber and the comfortable bed, with
her help. He was lucid for small amounts of time.

“Sabralia,” he whispered during one of his brief
moments of full consciousness. “Sorry I can’t help.”

“That is all right. I just want you to get better.”

He fell asleep, lips curved into a slight smile.

Kaistril slept while she got into the queue to
dock at Katherine Hub, which was easier than moving between the probes Kaistril
had made her practice on. The com no longer showed anyone following them, but
they would queue up also, several hours behind them.

Six hours before docking, Kaistril awoke. “Sabra,
need help with the com.” She helped him to the com, then gave him a meal
replacement drink while he tapped slowly, with just one hand. “I’ll sleep here.
Link ups…for my family com…”

His eyes fluttered shut and she eased him back
into the seat, leaned it back, and strapped him down for docking.

“First,” he said, though his eyes were closed.
“Send message first thing at docking.” Once they were docked they could use
Katherine Hub’s communication service, which was necessary because the small
ship need a boost to get a message to New Prague.

It did make sense. Send the message first, before
they left the ship. She looked at the com routes and saw he had geared all
replies to her arm com. He must have written this some time ago and saved it.
Geared to her personal com, they could receive the message anywhere on the Hub.

Sabralia made sure her arm com was powered up.
There would be no natural sunlight on the Hub, but the com had a small device
that could draw power from most ordinary power grids. Then she changed into the
concealing gown and packed Alfryt’s bags with the jewels and info cubes they
were taking with them. She was ready.

Katherine Hub was an enormous space-built spiral
of docking bays, surrounding a central globe complex from which the many spiral
arms sprang. There was a government of sorts, run by the trade guilds, but they
mainly dealt with tariffs and commodity inspections. The complex was known for
its wild lawlessness, danger and ruthless trade guild mercs who dealt with any
trouble without a trial or any type of process of law. Hundreds of people lived
on the Hub, working on the space docks, markets and eateries.

The docking procedure was similar to simulated
ones she’d done over and over in the past days. She docked with no trouble at
all.

“Kaistril. Wake up! I did it. We’re docked!”

Her excitement must have reached him, for his
eyelids fluttered. He smiled, though his eyes were heavy. “Good piloting,” he
whispered. “Send the message.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, and he opened his
mouth and met her tongue. “One of these days,” he whispered, “we’re going to do
lots of that.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Me too.” He fell back to sleep.

Sabralia followed the instructions he had left her
and sent the message.

Chapter Seven

The com received a message from Katherine Hub
about payment procedures. She chose the option of setting an account up at the
Hub financial dept, and arranged for transportation to the finance center and
back to the ship in three hours. That gave her time to get a grav chair for
Kaistril, and sell some jewels.

“Take a hot tube to go get the grav chair. I’ll go
with you to the jewelers, and carry the weapons.” Kaistril’s speech was more
normal, but he still sat back against the chair with very little movement.
Sabralia reluctantly opened the weaponry cabinet and armed herself with two
small weapons, both non-lethal.

Sabralia had to go by herself to get a grav chair,
for which she used an ordinary credit film from Alfyt’s bag. As Sabralia got
into the transport she summoned, she saw several young men looking at her. Her
heart revved up. Were they going to rush her? Try to steal her goods? Or kidnap
her? Before her imagination could get out of control, she grabbed one of her
hot tubes, tilted her chin, and gave them a defiant look, making sure the young
men could see she was armed. They did not move toward her.

The Hub was crazy with movement, chaotic. People
on small gliders zipped around larger, slower transports, and moving pathways
crisscrossed the entire interior of the Hub. The sphere-shaped center was full
of buildings built on floating rafts or platforms built on jutting arms and
scaffolding from the sphere wall. Balconies jutted from the sphere wall. Large
door panels led to the spiral arms where ships docked.

It looked like mass confusion to Sabralia. She had
not seen this part of the Hub when she traveled from her homeworld to Sirn’s
Harem; she had simply transferred ships out on the perimeter docks.

Sabralia gasped as a small group of people leaped
off a walkway into the open sphere. They were wearing some sort of floater
device, which they used to float on over to another walkway.

“What are they wearing, to float like that?” “Jack
boots,” the driver told her. “Very popular here with residents. Cheap. They
hold a charge for a short while, but the charge can be replaced by movement.”

She entered a personal transport shop with no incident
and picked a grav chair with a riding platform on the back. It had two sets of
controls that either she or Kaistril could use. Being raised as royalty did
have some positive effects. She seemed to have an attitude that commanded
respect. The proprietor of the shop not only summoned a transport that would
take her privately back to the ship with her grav chair, but also paid for it.

When she entered the ship, she was surprised to
see Kaistril dressed in some of Alfyt’s more somber clothing, including a coat
with a long hood that shaded his face. “Get me weapons,” he said.

She took far more weapons out of the cabinet than
she could ever imagine using. Kaistril had her place them in Alfyt’s bags and
lock them in the storage compartment under the chair. The cyborg appliances
were in another bag he insisted she tuck in the storage area, too.

“We’ll sell a small portion of the jewels and see
how that works. If we show the whole collection, we might be noticed. We’re
three days ahead of the ships that are following us. Might have time to sell
ship.”

Sabralia chose several sets of fine jewelry,
leaving the rarest and most expensive in the bag, which they locked up with the
weapons.

They found a jeweler who asked no questions.
Kaistril found nothing unusual about that. He was alert for the trade, but
afterwards fell asleep in the transport she hired. The financial appointment
was held in private and was over quickly. The credits she held were universal
and easy to pass at any hub or port, and most larger cities. While there, she
paid for the Hub news to be sent to her personal com.

It was so much easier than she’d expected. Her
account was bonded to their fingerprints, and a universal credit stick slid
neatly into her com. “Back to the ship?” she asked Kaistril, who’s eyes were
closed under the deep rim of the hood. He looked fragile, with blue hollows
under his eyes.

“No. We should find a room.”

While he rested in the chair, Sabralia found a
rental agency.  “We require a decent lodging,” she had told one of the agents,
“but we want something quiet. We are not interested in luxury accommodations or
gaming resorts or intoxicant saloons in the area.”

The agent set up the appointment and gave her
coordinates to a building quite away from the heavily-populated center of the
Hub, and ordered a private transport to carry her and Kaistril’s chair to the
building. Kaistril did not wake up as she moved him into the private transport,
and she held his hand as they zipped and lurched through the bustling Hub.

The rental unit was built into the Hub wall, far
from the busy floating platform area that filled the center. A concierge showed
her the room, while Kaistril remained in the transport. Sabralia liked it.
Tiny, smaller than the stateroom on the ship, it had a narrow balcony that
overlooked a courtyard full of light and greenery. She paid the fee, and the
driver helped unload the grav chair while she helped Kaistril into the room.
She paid the concierge a generous tip.

She woke Kaistril up after the concierge left them
alone.

“This is good,” Kaistril said. “Until my brothers
come…” He was exhausted, she could tell. She helped him to the small bed, and
sank down beside him. I wonder how many brothers he has? Or does he mean
military brothers? The activity of selling the jewels and leaving the ship wore
Kaistril out. He slept for most of the next twenty-four hours and continued to
sleep almost constantly the next few days. Sabralia stayed inside the small
apartment.

“The Hub is full of Sirn’s sympathizers,” Kaistril
said in one of his brief moments of consciousness. “Order what you want for
delivery. Get concierge to accept deliveries.”

Daveed, the concierge, was willing to put her
purchases on the apartment account, which she paid when he delivered the items
she ordered. She was able to get food, clothes, anything they needed, while
only leaving a payment record on the apartment account. She thought it might be
a good idea if anyone was looking for them. They were lucky the Hub had no
regular security force or methods for registering and tracking people.

Even with the jewel sales, Sabralia worried about
their finances. Life on the Hub was expensive. She researched ship sales. What
if Kaistril’s brothers didn’t arrive as quickly as he thought they would?

Kaistril continued to sleep heavily. Sabralia
talked to him about the sale of the ship, but it had to be done soon, she
thought, before their pursuers docked at the Hub. She placed an ad and then
consulted Daveed for a safe place to meet potential buyers.  Daveed and his
wife had a small son. He ran the apartment complex while they saved money to
immigrate to a world outside the war zone. Most of the apartment residents were
sphere workers who needed affordable, safe housing. The ad brought in immediate
responses. She chose to answer one that was politely worded, and made plans to
meet at the Tea Room—a place Daveed strongly suggested.

The Tea Room was reassuring. Sabralia deposited
her hot tubes in a safe that locked to her thumbprint and took a table away
from the windows.

“I will be meeting someone. I am called Coloun,”
she told one of the servers, who promised to escort the potential buyer to her
table. When the server left, she looked around.

The Tea Room had greenery and soothing colors of
green, blue, and white. It served a wide range of beverages. She ordered a cup
of spice tea and waited. Nerves made her stomach tight. She hoped this first
meeting would bring a sale.   

The server returned, escorting a small thin woman
with short dark hair and warm brown skin to Sabralia’s table. She wore a thick
black quilted vest that fell below the knee and revealed wiry muscled bare
arms.

“I am Coloun. Please join me.”

The woman nodded in a formal manner and ordered a
cup of roasted Kaf. “I am Tulse Vittorine.”

Sabralia took a sip from her spice and fumbled
with her com. “I can beam the specs to you.”

Tulse Vittorine studied the specs while Sabralia
studied her. This was no sex worker or dancer, like the women of the harem.
There was a scar on her arm and another on her eyebrow. She wore no
ornamentation at all, or cosmetics. And she seemed to know a lot about ships,
for she studied the specs for quite some time.

“Has any work been done on it recently?” Tulse
asked.

“A tracer was successfully removed from under the
hull.”

“Is someone pursuing the ship? Is that why the
trace was removed?”

Sabralia hesitated. Many buyers would walk away if
they knew Sirn’s men were following it. But she didn’t want to lie and put the
buyer in danger.

“The ship belonged to my husband. I received word
he had been attacked by marauders and I fled here with a servant. I have not
heard from my husband, so I assume the two ships that are following are not
friends or colleagues. The ship is small but luxurious and in excellent shape.”

“How far behind you were the pursuers?”

“They will not dock here for at least thirty-six
hours.”

“A buyer would have to move the vessel and pay for
redocking, plus remove insignia from the hull. And change the ship’s signature.
All those are expensive procedures. Especially in a short amount of time.”

“I would perhaps be willing to consider a counter
offer, if I was assured that such procedures would indeed take place within
thirty-six hours.”

Tulse Vittorine tapped off the specs and stood. “I
would like to see the ship.”

“Of course. If you will follow my transport, I
will give you a tour.”

Sabralia was glad Kaistril had thought ahead,
giving her a lock code for the ship’s system. “You are more than welcome to
explore. The system is locked, but I will provide the unlock code at the time
of sale.”

“Of course.”

While Tulse checked the coms and disappeared into
the lower level, Sabralia drifted to the stateroom. So many memories of
Kaistril. Tears stung her eyes. This is over, our short time together.

Sabralia took a deep breath. Enough. She had a
ship to sell.

When Tulse came back to the main com, Sabralia was
ready. “If you purchase this ship and redock it, and change the ship’s
signature and hull insignia, I will give you a rebate of a hundred thousand
credits upon proof of those actions.”

Tulse agreed and they traveled to a credit station
for the exchange. Afterwards, Sabralia beamed the unlock code to Tulse’s com
after verification of the credit transfer came through. “She is all yours now,”
she said when it was done. “Enjoy your ship.”