Song of Scarabaeus (10 page)

It felt good to plan ahead, and unfamiliar. Everything she did now to infiltrate security might come in handy when the moment was right for her and Finn to escape.

She turned her attention back to Zeke's new rig. She recognized the booster from CCU documentation—it was not an approved model, but a highly illegal supercharger. No doubt there were desperate people on the Fringe willing to pay for it, but they'd be foolish to use it.

A loud clatter rang through the bulkhead from the other
side of the airlock, followed by Kristos shouting what sounded like a reprimand.

Edie hit Kristos's callsign on her comm. “Kristos? Is there a problem?”

“No problem. One of these guys is a bit skittish.” The nervous undertones to his voice were unmistakable.

Edie moved gingerly into the airlock and peered through the window of the
Hoi
's hatch. Someone moved past the window only a couple of meters away—Finn. He backed up a step and looked at her through the plaz, then spoke via his comm.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded calm, but firm. He moved out of sight.

If there was trouble going on, it made sense that Finn wanted her out of it. That didn't mean she wanted him
in
it. She called Haller on her comm.

“Sir, can you come belowdeck? Zeke's dockside, and Kristos might need help with the serfs.”

After a moment's pause, Haller's irritated voice came through. “Christ, he can't babysit for five minutes?”

Another crash from inside the
Hoi
's hold, as though something had been thrown, and this time it was a serf's voice yelling in frustration. Edie backed away from the hatch, uncertain of what the danger was. She hit her comm again.

“Kristos? What's going on in there?”

“Everything's under control!”

“Haller's on his way.”

“Damn, I don't need him.” From the pitch of his voice, either panic or anger was taking hold. Edie regretted calling Haller. It made Kristos look incompetent, and the kid wouldn't thank her for that.

Over Kristos's still-open line, she heard further scuffling and voices calling out, then Haller's authoritative voice in the background as he arrived on the scene. The line clicked off and Edie breathed a sigh of relief. This crew was used to dealing with serfs, and Haller would sort out the problem, whatever it was.

Just as she stepped back, another wave of noise erupted inside the
Hoi
. Straining her ears, she tried to make sense of the muted sounds—scuffles and cries, boots clattering on the deck. Haller barked orders and there came the sound of steady thumping, as though someone was being hit or punched, along with the unmistakable crackle of a live drub.

She heard Finn yell, quickly followed by an almighty crash as a pile of crates tumbled down. One of the serfs screamed something unintelligible while another started whooping with excitement. So much for being tranq'ed.

The airlock beeped, startling her. The panel showed that the hatch on the far side of the gangway was open, which meant Zeke was returning. She punched his callsign.

“A fight's broken out.” Her voice sounded weak, breathless. “Zeke, hurry. I don't know what's going on in there.”

“On my way, kid. Get into the skiff.”

“Haller's in the hold. I think the serfs started something. I don't know…”

She looked through the hatch window again, but other than the occasional flash of motion, there was nothing to see. It was clear from the sounds, though, that a serious ruckus was going on.

Zeke arrived at last, along with three serfs and another load of crates.

“Get in there.” He pushed her into the skiff and snapped the hatch shut before she could protest. She watched through the window as he ordered the serfs off the gangway and trapped them in the airlock where they would be confined while he investigated the trouble. Then he disappeared into the
Hoi
's hold.

One of the serfs turned slowly and gave Edie a blank look through the window. She pulled back, her pulse racing.

Her comm crackled.

“Edie, jolt your damn lag.” It took her a moment to figure out the voice was Haller's. “Jolt him! He's out of control.”

Whatever was going on in there, she wasn't about to jolt
Finn without seeing for herself. She snapped the hatch with her crew key, much to the surprise of the three men on the other side, and stepped into the airlock. One of them made for the open doorway without any particular enthusiasm, so she snapped it shut. She pushed past the men, but to her dismay found the far hatch locked on the other side.

Kristos's face appeared at the window. “Do it!” he yelled through the bulkhead. “He's going to kill him!”

Edie's instinct was to doubt Kristos's assessment—surely Finn wouldn't kill anyone. Would he? She hammered on the hatch.

“Kristos, let me in!” She could see him moving about on the other side. Thumbing her comm, she tried again. “Unlock the hatch, Kristos. Let me in.”

Behind her, the serfs milled about in dazed uncertainty. One of them started whimpering, disturbed by what he could hear going on inside the ship. Another touched her hair and she spun around, wishing for the first time in her life that she had a drub. But the one Zeke had given her was sitting in the
Hoi
, somewhere among the rigs where she'd dropped it after starting work.

“Get back,” she hissed.

The serf jumped away, startled. She looked into his glazed eyes and fought back her fear. She'd never had to deal with serfs before, and now here she was crammed into a tiny airlock with three of them. She should have stayed in the skiff.

Kristos's distraught face appeared at the window again. “Edie, do something!”

“Open the hatch!”

A second later, the hatch snapped and Edie stumbled through. Kristos had the presence of mind to wave his drub at the three serfs, clutching the tool white-knuckled, his expression controlled to hide his nervousness. But he succeeded in keeping them inside the airlock.

Edie ran toward the fight, almost tripping over a man curled up on the deck, cowering in a fetal position. His tunic
was scorched across the back where he'd been hit with a drub.

Ahead, in the shadowy corner of the hold, one serf sat cross-legged, hugging his knees, motionless, as though he'd been ordered to assume the position. Zeke manhandled another to the ground with his drub, though it wasn't turned on, yelling at him to sit.

Beyond them, Edie saw Haller strutting back and forth in front of a jumble of equipment. As her eyes grew used to the darkness, she saw movement near Haller's feet. Finn sat in the shadows, in the same submissive posture as the other serfs. With calculated intent, Haller whacked him on the side of the head with a drub. Edie cried out in disbelief at the unprovoked attack, and Haller spun on her.

“I told you to jolt him,” he growled.

Edie's first instinct was to run to Finn, who had slumped forward, hand over his ear where he'd been hit. His arms and scalp glistened with sweat and blood—there must have been a vicious fight. But Haller's murderous expression kept her rooted to the spot, several meters away.

He turned on Finn again and kicked him hard in the chest, flinging him backward. Finn groaned and rolled onto his side.

“What are you doing? He wasn't moving!” she yelled.

Having subdued the third serf, Zeke ran over and hauled Finn up by the scruff. Finn staggered on his feet, but remained upright.

“He can cool off in lockdown,” Zeke said, nudging Finn to move with the tip of his drub.

“No. Wait.” Haller pointed at Edie. “Jolt him.”

The hold seemed unnaturally quiet after all the chaos. Silence pressed down on Edie as she stared at Finn.

“Jolt him
now
, or I'll throw him off this ship.”

She willed Finn to raise his head, to tell her what to do. Would Haller really leave him at the port, to die when the ship went out of range?

“He wasn't doing anything,” she retorted, surprised by the ferocity in her voice. “He wasn't fighting.” More than anything, she was confused. She hadn't seen what started the fight, but it was clear Finn had surrendered by the time she arrived.

“Either you punish him,” Haller snarled, “or I'll get rid of him and then flog you for disobeying orders. Now
do it
!”

Edie wasn't sure if she believed him about the flogging, but what she saw in Haller's eyes convinced her that he'd carry out the threat against Finn. It was a look of pure terror—terror that his world was spinning out of control. In front of half his crew and a quartet of worthless lags, his authority had been undermined and he was about to shatter. And when he broke, there was no telling what he'd do.

But she couldn't bring herself to jolt Finn just to satisfy Haller's power-lust. She shook her head.
No
.

“Throw him out,” Haller told Zeke, and she knew he meant it.

Zeke hesitated. “C'mon, boss, let's just slam—”

“Throw him out.
Now
.”

Finn raised his head at last to look at Haller, and saw, perhaps, the same thing Edie had seen. A man on the precipice. As Zeke started to drag him away, Finn shot out an arm to catch the op-teck neatly on the jaw, sending him spinning into the equipment racks. Zeke landed messily.

As Finn turned to face Haller, the XO raised his arm and extended his spur. The weapon clicked into place, Haller's thumb flexing in preparation to fire, and Edie had no time to think.

Her mind latched onto the trigger and she jolted Finn.

The force of the jolt snapped Finn's neck back and he cried out, a bloodcurdling sound ripped from his throat. He dropped to his knees, his body stiff, his expression frozen in pain. Then he toppled to the side and hit the deck.

Edie stumbled across the hold, numb with shock, her knees threatening to buckle. Allowing his spur to retract,
Haller gave her a triumphant look that made her feel sick to her stomach. His hand closed around her arm, preventing her from getting nearer to Finn.

“He's not breathing,” she gasped.

“He'll be fine. Get back to work.” He didn't immediately release her. With a glint in his eyes he said, “That was impressive.” She scowled and he gave her a sharp push in the direction of the rigs. “Zeke, get these men under control. I'll deal with the lag.”

He prodded Finn with his boot until Finn drew a ragged breath and started to move. He got slowly to his feet. He didn't look at Edie, and she was grateful for that. But she caught a glimpse of his bewildered expression. She didn't want to see more.

What happened?
Edie's mind churned over that question. Crouched in the corner of the hold, she ignored the blinking and whirring of the nearby rigs that she was supposed to be prepping. She couldn't stop trembling—possibly a kickback effect of triggering the jolt, but she knew it was more than that. Devastated by what Haller had made her do, she kept playing the scene over and over, wondering why it had got out of hand, agonizing over whether she could have done anything differently. She and Finn had made a plan—and no part of that plan involved getting violent with the crew to the point where his life was endangered.

Had he been violent? She hadn't witnessed that. She'd seen only Haller's relentless provocation while Finn was already on the ground. What had she missed? She needed to talk to Kristos. He was in the cellblock with Zeke, just beyond the equipment holds, helping assign the serfs to cells and doling out the evening meal.

She went through her options for the hundredth time. Whichever way she turned it, the outcome was the same: her bodyguard would die. Haller had shown he was prepared to discard Finn at the slightest provocation. Even if he didn't have the balls to execute him—and she'd never know if he
would have pulled that trigger—he could achieve the same result by sending Finn out of range.

Cutting the leash was the only way to remove that threat. They could hope to complete the mission and get paid before Haller found some excuse to get rid of Finn, or they could escape at the first opportunity and find another way to scrape together the creds. The second option was starting to look a lot more appealing.

With Haller back in his quarters, or wherever he went while off duty, Edie felt it was safe to enter the cellblock. She found Kristos fiddling at a console while Zeke worked at the other end of the room, attending to the injured serf—the man with drub burns.

Kristos wouldn't meet her eyes. “That was not my fault. I didn't tell you to do it. Haller kept screaming the order.”

“You told me Finn was going to kill him. Was that true?”

Now he looked up. “No, I said
Haller
was going to kill
Finn
.”

“What? Just tell me what happened.”

“One of the serfs started freaking out because the toms were bugging him.” Kristos pointed to a couple of toms in the corner of the hold. “There's something wrong with them. They kept buzzing around, and the serf started yelling and kicking at them. I think his tranq mix must've been screwed up. No big deal until Haller shows up. He starts beating on the guy.” Kristos thumbed the serf being treated by Zeke. “Keeps drubbing him until your guy steps up and says,
That's enough!
Just steps right up and says it like he expects Haller to obey. Haller turns on him and goes crazy.”

“Did Finn retaliate?”

“He just tried to ward him off. Generally these guys don't put up a fight. They know that in the end it only makes things worse for them. And if they're tranq'ed properly”—he indicated the drug regimen listed on his console—“they
can't
fight. Doesn't affect their ability to work, of course.”

So, Finn wasn't the instigator and had done nothing more than defend himself and another man. That hadn't stopped
Haller from pulling a spur on him, and Edie was certain he'd find another excuse to kill him.

They had to get out of here, and fast.

She watched Kristos plugging seven spikes into a med unit attached to his console.

“Is that the evening cocktail?”

“Yup. Double dose for everyone after today's excitement.”

Edie glanced at the regimen as he fiddled with the seals. Finn was due to be tranq'ed just like the others. As the half-baked plan that had been forming in her mind over the past two hours solidified, she knew she was going to have to stop Finn being dosed.

With Kristos's attention on the spikes, Edie surreptitiously slipped her fingers onto the console and jacked in.

“Where's Finn?” she asked to distract him. “I'd like to check on him.”

“You'll have to ask Zeke if you're allowed. He's in lockdown, far end of the cellblock.” He pointed in that direction.

“How's the guy who was drubbed?”

“A drub scorches like a sunburn—no big deal.”

By the time he'd finished the sentence and turned back to the console, Edie had pulled her hand free and Kristos was none the wiser to what she'd done. She'd dialed Finn's dose to zero, so his spike was now filling with pure saline.

Zeke put the injured serf in his cell and came over. As he looked at Edie with troubled brown eyes, she noticed the bruise on his jaw.

“Hey, I'm sorry it went down like that,” he said.

She bit back a smart reply. She needed his help.

“Let me go patch him up, Zeke.”

“I already hosed him down. Nothing serious.”

“I'd like to take a look myself.” She reached for the medkit.

Zeke shrugged and pushed the medkit into her arms. “Ten minutes, then meet me out there—we've still got work to do before supper. Kristos has the key.”

He told Kristos to administer the spikes, then returned to
his rigs. Delaying near Kristos's console, Edie waited impatiently for him to finish up. Each serf fitted his arm into a tray attached to the front grille of the cell to hold it still for the injection. They seemed used to the routine, obeying without a fuss.

She followed Kristos to the lockdown hatch and he used his crew key to open it. One faint striplight glowed on as they stepped inside the large cell that doubled as a storage area. Finn sat on a narrow bench, facing away, leaning against a holding frame. His wrists were cuffed and hooked to the railings. To her surprise, he was naked. That didn't faze Kristos, who boldly approached him, spike in hand.

Finn pulled away from the spike as far as the restraints would allow, rattling the railings. Kristos flinched, losing his nerve, and looked over at Edie.

“It's okay.” Her words were meant for Finn, not Kristos, although from her position near the hatch she couldn't see Finn's expression. He tensed at the sound of her voice but didn't move again as Kristos jabbed the spike into his arm.

Kristos seemed eager to get out of the cell as fast as possible. “Just snap the hatch when you're done, and don't forget to bolt the other door.”

As his footsteps retreated down the cellblock, Edie edged around the cell to face Finn. The green-tinged light hit the hard angles of his body, emphasizing every muscle in his back and shoulders. The area around his left rib cage was colored with bruising. When he turned his head, she saw that his lip was split and his cheekbone sported a livid bruise. She couldn't hold his hostile glare.

His clothes lay in a heap on the far side of the cell. She picked up his tee and discovered it was sodden. All his clothes were wet, as was the deck around his feet. Zeke had mentioned hosing him off—the traditional daily bathing routine for serfs. Having done that, he must have decided that Finn's injuries weren't worth his time because the scrapes weren't dressed. Edie approached him with some trepidation, set down the medkit and unfolded it.

“That spike was just saline. I made sure of it.”

“Get me out of here.” His voice was scorched with anger.

“Not yet. Soon. And then we're leaving.”

He hadn't expected that. “Thought we had a plan. We need the creds.”

“No. Haller's going to kill you. He'll find an excuse to shoot you or leave you behind or—”

“I can deal with Haller.”

“Can you?” Edie's voice rose, forcing back the tears of anger burning her eyes. “He put a spur to your head. He was going to kill you.”

“If I thought that, I'd have stopped him.”

She marveled at his conceited belief in his own indestructibility. “You're not bulletproof.”

“I've taken care of myself to this point. Last thing I need is you cracking open my head every time the order is given.”

Too annoyed to respond, she selected a swab and moved closer to wipe a graze along his jaw, concentrating on keeping her eyes averted from his body. Then she set to work on a small puncture wound on his shoulder where he'd smacked into something jagged during the fight. His breath hissed out at the sting of the swab.

“My job is to take care of you,” he said. “It doesn't work both ways. I don't need anyone looking out for me.”

She wouldn't let him get away with blaming her. “You're not being fair. I thought I was saving you.”

He considered that, and in the silence that followed she met his gaze. The bitterness left his eyes.

“Forcing me to bend me to your will won't save me. Don't do it again.”

“I won't. I swear. I'll never do that again.”

Finn held her gaze for a moment, then turned his head aside without acknowledging her words. They must mean nothing to him. He was a serf, used to threats and punishment. Maybe he didn't know how to deal with a promise.

She turned her attention to the bruising on his ribs. If he had more than minor injuries, it would hamper her escape
plans. Running her hand over his skin, she checked for wounds. His muscles tensed briefly, then he relaxed and sat back, casually unselfconscious, hiding nothing. Perhaps that, too, was a habit learned through incarceration, a lack of modesty about a body that someone else owned. Edie chewed on her lip, avoiding letting her gaze wander too low, acutely aware of the forced intimacy of their situation.

“There's a lot of bruising here,” she said, because she had to say something.

“I think I cracked a rib.” He rattled the restraints. “Let me check.”

She hesitated. Would he retaliate if she let him loose? He hadn't actually agreed to her escape idea yet.

“Are you in on this?” she asked. “I meant what I said. I have a plan but you have to stay here a while longer. I need an hour to organize things first, to give us time to get to the docks and find a ride before they know we're missing.”

He gave her a wary look. Did he not think she was capable of pulling this off?

“We have to try, Finn.”

At last, he nodded. “Okay. Let's do it.”

She inspected the wrist cuffs. They didn't need a key, just two-handed brute force to unhook the catches. As quietly as she could, she opened them. Finn methodically worked his fingers over his rib cage to check for breaks, his masked expression giving no clue about whether he was in pain.

“Well?”

“Just bruises. Give me bandages and painkillers.”

She wasn't sure he wasn't hiding a more serious injury, but found what he needed in the medkit and watched him do the job that she had come to do. Clearly he knew more about it than she did. More about everything, no doubt. Outside of a datastream, did she really know anything? Her entire life, she'd been protected from whatever was out there—by the camps of her childhood, the institute walls, the milits who guarded her on missions. When she and Finn finally went their separate ways, could she survive on her own?

Finn pushed a spike into his biceps, discarded the empty, and handed her back the medkit.

“I'll fetch dry clothes,” she told him. “The serfs are doped up for the night, so they won't raise a fuss when you leave. I don't think anyone will come back here this evening. I'll leave this hatch unlocked, but stay here. One hour, okay? I'll come for you.”