Song of Scarabaeus (21 page)

She didn't meet Finn's eyes but sensed him freeze in the seat beside her. So he could still be shocked, even after all he'd seen and heard.

“The Talasi were mistreated for thirty years by the new colonists on Talas,” Edie explained. “After they were put into camps, the Crib's policy was to not interfere with their culture, so they did nothing about it. But culture isn't sacred just because it's ancient. Some things…”

“Some things are just wrong.”

She nodded, wondering how he'd managed to get the story
out of her. She'd never spoken of it before. Tracing the delicate painted lines on her feet, she felt him studying her.

“Who was that woman?” he asked.

“Natesa? She's my boss. My patron. She rescued me from poverty and neglect. She came from a deprived world, too, and assumed that gave us a connection—that we shared the same dreams. I'm a disappointment to her.” Edie had never voiced that idea before, but as she said the words she realized they were true.

“You don't sound like that bothers you.”

Edie's shoulders heaved in a deep sigh. “Even at the age of ten, I knew she wasn't choosing me out of benevolence. From that moment, she dictated everything in my life. There were times when she terrified me, because I couldn't see a way out from her influence. I used to run away, every so often, just for the taste of freedom. She never understood that.” Edie couldn't look at him as she spoke. Compared to his grievances, hers sounded petty. Even that childish wish for her mother's return, a yearning that had tarnished her relationship with Natesa from the start, seemed irrelevant.

“You feel like she used you.”

“She did.”

“You're not a pawn, you know. She needed you—you could've taken advantage of that.”

Now Edie looked up in surprise. “Are you saying I
should
have? Didn't you just say you behaved yourself in order to survive?”

“No one
needs
a serf. One man's as good as the next. Making trouble only makes it worse when you don't have the upper hand. When I do—if I see the smallest chance of success—I'll fight.” His attention was drawn to something on the console, and he sat upright in his seat. “Looks like we're about to exit nodespace.”

He pulled the seat harness over his shoulders and Edie did the same, securing herself tightly this time. For a few seconds the view outside the skiff didn't look any different, but
as she was about to remark on it her seat lurched violently as the grav field stuttered. Her stomach flipped. She heard the equipment in the hold being thrown around again—they should have clamped down the loose stuff, but neither of them cared enough to think of that. Edie gripped the seat arms and closed her eyes, thankful for the harness because this ride was rougher than their entry into the node, hours earlier.

The skiff shuddered again, evened out, and she braved a look. She'd never been so happy to see the still, speckled expanse of starfield. A couple of telltales blinked red on the console. One of them turned amber, then green, even as she watched—whatever was wrong must have self-corrected. The other one remained red and Finn pushed buttons to get a readout on the holoviz.

“External vids and sensors are down,” he reported. “And here's why we won't be running anywhere.” He pulled up the fuel gauge, something neither of them had thought to check before. It had been bled dry.

Edie jacked into the comm. “They've disabled communications, other than a short-range link to the
Hoi
. No calling for help.”

“How short-range?”

“I'm not picking up any comm buoys in the area, so the
Hoi
would have to be right here in the system with us. What now? We just sit and wait?”

Finn unfastened his harness. “I found a couple of memos coded for you. They were flashed over right before we hit the node.”

Edie made a face and pressed her fingertips onto the dataport. Haller's memos were never much fun.

“It's the probe telemetry from Scarabaeus. He wants me to analyze it.”

In her fear over being chased down by Natesa, she'd put Scarabaeus out of her mind, preferring to believe Haller was mistaken about the satellites picking up BRAT activity.

“What do you think it means?”

“I don't know. It's probably nothing. Those BRAT seeds are
dead
. I killed them.”

“If something's going on down there, we need to know. Might be dangerous.”

She scoffed. “Scarabaeus is ferns and lichen and beetles.”

But she pulled up the data anyway. She
did
want to know what was going on, although not for the same reason as Finn. She'd spent the last seven years thinking she'd preserved Scarabaeus. The idea that she'd find the planet terraformed beyond recognition was too unbearable to contemplate, but she had to know. If the Crib found out, they'd colonize it. That was exactly what she'd tried to prevent.

The coding was Crib standard and she unlocked the data, choosing a three-sided display to sort it on the holoviz. At first glance, nothing made much sense. The BRATs were certainly active, and that made her stomach sink, but she couldn't find the usual terraforming protocols.

“This doesn't tell me much. There's some activity, but that doesn't mean the biocyph machinery is engaged. Even if the BRATs are rambling—running calculations and transmitting data that the satellite picked up—my kill-code lock should make it impossible for the biocyph to respond or to change the ecosystem.”

“What if you're wrong and the ecosystem
is
changing?”

He was still thinking about possible dangers, but her concern was something else entirely.

“Then I'll have to fix it.”

Six hours later, Edie had learned frustratingly little more. She needed more information, was hungry for it—but that would have to wait until they reached Scarabaeus. The most likely scenario was that the BRATs were simply talking among themselves, perhaps the result of a remnant chunk of programming that the kill-code had not affected. If it was more than that…Edie tried not to imagine that scenario, but it haunted her. More than half a decade of terraforming would have severely impacted the planet. Was there any chance she could heal the wound that humankind had inflicted? The BRATs would have a record of Scarabaeus's original ecosystem, and once they made planetfall perhaps she could switch the target back. Not every species, not every plant and animal and metabolic pathway—it would leave a scar—but she felt compelled to try.

Edie pushed back in her seat and switched off the holoviz. She'd spent so many hours engrossed in her work that she'd lost track of time. It was early evening. Finn had spent the day tinkering in the cargo hold. He must be feeling caged in, with nothing to do and little space to move. Descending the ramp, she found him pulling packing material into a clear
ing he'd made on the deck, next to the drilling rig. The rig itself was in pieces.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Rethreading the mounts. I noticed they were off when I was cleaning it the other day.”

“But they don't use it.”

“Just bugs me to know it's not been done right.” He grinned and indicated the makeshift mat he'd made. “You up for some training?”

“Are you still worried we'll find trouble on Scarabaeus?”

“You told me it'll be all beetles and bunnies, right? No, I'm planning for the future. After this mission we need to think about cutting ourselves loose. Out there on the Fringe, I'd feel better if you knew how to defend yourself.”

“What about my shoulder?”

“I'll get you another spike. Take off your boots and find us some e-shields.” He went into the cockpit where the medkit was.

Edie complied, grateful for the excuse to distract herself from Scarabaeus. She hadn't thought too much about what would happen after the mission, only that they'd need to be alert for any chance to escape. Then, find an infojack to cut the leash. And then what? She'd be alone on the Fringe with no contacts, probably no creds left, and a skill she'd have to hide if she didn't want to end up being used or killed.

Finn returned, spike in hand, and administered the shot. “Quarter dose this time. Let me know if you get dizzy.”

Dizzy
. A safe euphemism for what the painkillers had done to her earlier. She blushed as she remembered the things she'd said, the way she'd clung to him. The look in his eyes.

They clipped e-shields to their belts to soften the blows and went through some blocks and strikes. With one limb out of action, Edie's body readjusted and her overall balance improved. Finn favored his left side where his ribs were still sore.

They wore themselves out. They ate and slept and worked
out through most of the following day as well, concentrating on legwork to avoid stressing her shoulder. There was no word from the
Hoi
.

The physical activity felt good. Finn's style was less tutored than she was familiar with. He showed her simple core principles to make her defenses more generic, adaptable, and efficient at dealing reflexively with unexpected attacks from unpredictable opponents.

“Who taught you?” he asked her late into their second day on the skiff.

“My first bodyguard, Lukas. He was a tournament expert in Halen Crai.”

“That explains it. You fight like a man.”

“Thank you.”

He threw her a curious scowl. So, it hadn't been a compliment.

“You play a little too close to the rules,” he explained. “That won't help when you're fighting for your life.”

She opened her mouth to defend Lukas, but he relented before she got the words out.

“Listen, it's not so bad. Your legs are strong, your feet are quick. But you need to fight like a girl because you'll never have brute force on your side. And you're thinking too hard instead of letting your body react.”

As they drilled the blocks and falls, she was aware of her body becoming used to his touch, fuzzy as it was through the e-shields. She had to secretly admit she was enjoying herself, despite the monotony of the passing hours and the uncertainty ahead. They were in limbo, suspended in time and space, out of reach. Powerless to control anything beyond these bulkheads, but they could shape the universe within their tiny ship. So she let herself watch, admire, feel. It would be over soon enough, but she could enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

She surprised him by hooking her leg around his, shouldering him in the chest with her good arm, and successfully sweeping him to the deck for the first time ever, and he
laughed. Edie pulled back at that unexpected reaction. Looking down at him, at his relaxed handsome face, his vitality, she saw in a flash of recognition that he was not the serf whose voice she'd unlocked, not the bodyguard she was forced to work with, not a fellow prisoner with the common goal of escape—he was a man, and she was attracted to him.

And even though she knew that was dangerous, she ignored the danger.

One second later, he returned the favor and she was flat on her back.

“What happened there?” Finn demanded. He'd brought her down by twisting his legs around hers, breaking her fall at the last moment to protect her shoulder. He had her pinned to the deck with his legs, her right wrist imprisoned over her head so she couldn't jab at his throat like he'd taught her.

“Uh, I wasn't paying attention.” Too busy admiring the way his white tee clung to his chest, and similar nonsense.

“Okay.” He eased off and she waited for him to jump up again, like he usually did, but he seemed to have no intention of doing that. “Your first move was a good one, though. Took down a man twice your body weight. Impressive.”

“I'm learning to fight like a girl, huh, Sergeant?”

“That you are. It's all in the leverage and timing.” Their shields arced and hissed where they clashed. He reached down and cut them both. “But you screwed up in the follow-through. You should've shot me, cut me, stomped on me while you had the chance. Or run away. Now you're on the ground and you've given up ninety-nine percent of your options.”

She gave an experimental wiggle, but he was immovable. “So what happens next?”

His dominating position should've scared her, but she was sure he'd get up if she told him to. Fairly sure. And she wanted him to stay right where he was.

“What happens next,” he said thoughtfully, “depends on my intentions. I reach for my shiv or for my zipper.”

“Either way, I'm fucked.”

His eyes narrowed with amusement but he didn't move. She was hyperaware of his easy strength as he lay over her.

“So I'm supposed to give up?” she said.

“It should never have come to this. Your only option now is to exploit a weakness.”

“Finn, I don't think you have a weakness.”

He ignored that, his gaze lowering to the V of her tee where the zipper had been pulled open a notch by the fall. He ran his fingers over the beetle shell at the base of her throat, trailed two fingers down her sternum to ease the neckline open further. Further than she'd anticipated. When his hand reached her stomach, she stopped breathing and his eyes briefly met hers.

“Checking to see if you got any more of these on you.” His voice was soft, like honey poured over his usual gravel-edged growl.

She managed to drag in a lungful of air. “No. Just the one.”

He stroked the shell again, making the surrounding skin vibrate. “Is this a tribal thing?”

“It doesn't mean anything.”

“Sure it does.”

Damn him. Was the leash turning him into a mind reader?

“The Talasi do mark their bodies,” she conceded, “but not like this. And they never marked mine.”

Well, there was the occasional black eye or fat lip…She closed her eyes and kept talking—talking made it easier to block out his scrutiny. But that made her more aware of the weight of his body against hers, and of his smell that had become so familiar.

“What it means is…Scarabaeus. I found a beetle struggling through the moss and I didn't save it. Didn't see the point. But it must've hitched a ride in my clothing. I found it, weeks later, in my pocket. Dead, dried up…”

Her breath caught as he settled more closely against her. His palm curved around her ribs, skin to skin, impossibly
warm, and the fabric of her open tee slipped aside, exposing her breast to the cool air. Breathing became difficult again, but she kept going.

“There was this woman I befriended. She had a shop in the outer loop of Halen Crai. I used to run away from the institute and visit her. She did tattoos, jewel inlays, that sort of thing. I had her implant the beetle shell into my skin. I didn't tell anyone what it was. I don't know why I did it.”

“To mark yourself with a piece of that planet.”

His mouth drifted across her throat as he spoke, and she shivered. She wanted him to kiss her. Even as the thought formed in her mind, she turned her face away so his lips wouldn't find hers.

We can't do this.

He must have sensed her change in mood because he raised his head. Every place he'd touched her skin, she could still feel the trail of heat.

“Edie.”

His solid presence rushed back in, calm and compelling. She opened her eyes, looked into the gold-flecked shadows of his. His brow furrowed in that crease that warned her of the emotions intruding on his mind. For once, he didn't complain, but she could tell he was suffering. She drew a deep breath, trying to stay in control for his sake.

“You've never said my name before,” she murmured.

“I haven't?”

“You seemed to think I was called ‘Hey'.”

He smiled, not at her but at some private thought. Her gaze was drawn to his full lower lip that bore the scar of Haller's fist from last week. She couldn't take her eyes off it. But in her mind's eye she saw Bethany, crumpled and stained with blood, and Lukas cradling her, crying her name. Lukas broken and empty. Bethany dead.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered. “We can't—”

“Hush.”

He watched his own hand as it explored her body, circled her bare breast, thumb brushing the nipple, and she gasped.
How could one hand radiate so much heat? He traced the curve of her ribs with meticulous intent, stroked her belly. His fingertips turned downward to slip beneath the low-slung waistband of her canvas pants. The intimacy of his touch pulled every visceral thread of emotion into a tight knot of need. Her body betrayed her, arching involuntarily against his.

A low groan escaped his throat and she knew it was the leash. Her arousal threatening to thwart his efforts. He seemed determined to ignore it. He shifted his weight again, fitted his hips against hers.

He had to stop. Stop now, or never stop.

She squirmed beneath him and he pulled back slightly.

“Finn, this won't…we can't. I'm sorry.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It's dangerous.”

His eyes darted back to hers, clouded with confusion. From what little she knew of him, she understood why. Danger for him was the battle zone, the serf handler's arbitrary cruelty, the unknown perils of an alien world. Not
this
, the comfort and warmth of connection with another human being.

But he rolled off without a word and moved away. Edie stood and zipped up her tee, wanting to explain. He picked up a piece from the drill he'd dismantled and became preoccupied with reattaching it to the mount. When he didn't look her way again, she went up into the cockpit and sank into a seat, shaking.

They could never be close in that way. She trusted him to take care of her, to keep them both alive. She didn't trust either of them with the complications that would arise from a deeper relationship. And unlike Lukas and Bethany, he didn't have the luxury of living if she died.

She watched the starfield, its almost imperceptible rotation across the screen with the lazy spin of the skiff. It threw a tint of fear over her mind, this endless velvety view. She closed her eyes and heard silence. Then, after a while, the sound of the skiff's enviro systems. She had to concentrate to hold the sound—not because it was too quiet, but because
her ears had acclimatized to its constant hum so that her brain ignored the stimulus. The dull drone permeated her body and after a while she could distinguish slight variations in the pitch and tone, until it sounded like the skiff was whispering. Sometimes she caught a syllable, a half-formed word, but as her mind struggled to make sense of it, it drifted out of reach like a dissolving dream. The effort to understand made her uncomfortable, and the sound became annoying. She tried to push it away, make it inaudible as it had been before. Was this what the leash was like for Finn, this constant irritation skirting the edges of the mind but never coming into focus?

From down below came the sound of metal grinding on metal as Finn put back together the pieces of his meaningless project.

She felt safe having him around, but too near and it scared her. No more swapping life stories, she resolved. No more wanting to reach the place behind those enigmatic eyes. No more feeling so damn good at being exposed to him, body and mind, and at the intimacy of his wandering hands.

 

Thoughts of food and sleep were interrupted by an incoming signal. Edie stretched out her back, stiff from sitting slumped in the seat for more than an hour, and hit the comm.

“Hoi Polloi
to
Charme.”

“Cat?”

“We just left nodespace. I see you on the scope. You guys doing okay?”

“Who's
Charme
?”