Song of Scarabaeus (4 page)

“Don't think you got the choice, kid.” Zeke shrugged, renouncing all responsibility. “The client thinks you need one. Captain Rackham agrees. When they found out he was a Saeth…it was a done deal.”

“A what?”

“The Saeth were hotshot fighters in the Reach Conflicts.” At her bewildered expression, he added, “You'll have to ask Cat about it. Or maybe not—she fought on the other side.”

“How am I supposed to…”
Control him
, she almost said. She wished she was having this conversation somewhere else, out of Finn's presence. She wished someone had warned her.

Zeke took her elbow and drew her away from the grille, but though he lowered his voice she suspected Finn could still hear. “They rigged his chip. He's got a boundary chip, like all of them, understand?”

“So he has to stay within a perimeter, I know. How does that motivate him to protect me?”

“The
chip
keeps him motivated,” Zeke hissed, tapping her skull with his forefinger.

Edie flinched and put her hand where he'd touched her as realization dawned. “They did something to my splinter, at the medfac.”

“Your what? Is that what you call it?”

She nodded. That was how she'd always thought of it. A splinter driven into her brain.

“They linked his chip to the wet-teck in your head,” Zeke continued. “You're his perimeter now, see? His chip picks up brainwave signals from your chip. A leash, they called it. So he stays alive as long as he keeps within a couple of klicks of you.”

She guessed the next part. “Or as long as I stay alive.”

She couldn't believe what they'd done to her. To
him
. Finn was forced to keep her alive, forced to stay by her side, or he'd end up with his brains scrambled and bloody like Ademo.

A surge of anger flooded out her shock and confusion. “Why didn't Haller tell me he planned to do this? He must have known I'd never agree to it.”

“Well, that would be why he didn't tell you.” Zeke was unmoved. “Believe me, I'd sooner pay for trained security but we're on a budget.”

“Did he agree to it?”

“We hauled his criminal ass off that labor gang on Talas Prime and put him on babysitting duty. I'm sure he's very grateful.”

“
Grateful?
Why don't you take off the snag and ask him? No sane person would sign up for this.”

Then again, she had no proof Finn was sane.

“Well, he should be grateful. He's a lag who got a lucky break. He doesn't get to choose his work conditions. I'll take off the snag after I finish processing him. I've still got to run a—”

“No, stop it. This has to stop,” Edie said raggedly. “You can't do this to him. I want out. The mission, the creds, the whole deal.”

Zeke opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “It's done, Edie. Too late. The leash can't be cut.”

“Never?”

“That's what they told me. It's not like he ever had a long life expectancy anyway.”

Edie pressed her temples between her palms, digesting the implications, but nothing made sense.

She walked away. She had to get out of this dismal place so she could think straight.

Zeke caught up, grabbed her arm. “You made a big mistake letting him see you react like that,” he said under his breath, before raising his voice as if addressing the cells. “You have to show them who's in charge, understand? They're lags. They do what they're told or what the zap of a drub tells them.”

Edie yanked her arm free and left the hold. Thankful that Zeke hung back, she climbed the ladder, grabbing at the rungs. They dug painfully into the arches of her bare feet. She ran down the corridor, snapped the hatch to her quarters and locked it behind her. Pacing the tiny room, she tried to think.

These rovers had tempted her with the creds and a way out of the Ardra project, and she'd fallen for it. She'd even get to see what her files said about Lukas, assuming Haller came through on that promise. Participating in their dubiously honorable work, at least until she had the chance to escape, had seemed like a fair enough trade for freedom from the Crib bureaucracy, which had manipulated her since she was ten.

But now someone else's life was involved. Finn's alternative was a labor gang—maybe he'd rather be here, leash or not. And what options did she have? For now she'd play their game, learn what she could, let them think she was cooperating. But she had to find a way out, for her own sake and Finn's.

 

Hunger finally forced Edie out of her quarters again in search of the mess hall. The ship was in nodespace now, judging from the engine sounds. She had no idea which spacedock they'd just left, and that meant she couldn't trace the hired infojack who had created the leash. He or she would be able to cut it, regardless of what Zeke had been told. Infojacks always left themselves a back door.

Ascending this time, she went up the ladder two decks to the top. She'd seen no one on decks three and two, and deck one was deserted as well. At the end of a short corridor was a common room with a large oval viewport, its window shuttered. Most spacefarers did not enjoy the sight of nodespace—it tended to induce nausea or even neurosis—so external ports were usually set to darken during node travel. Couches and tables littered the floor, and a huge holoviz blinked silently to itself. Sensing Edie's approach, it flared to life and ran through a default display of alien vistas—places humankind had visited or scanned but left untouched. Terraforming was legal only on planets with primitive ecosystems, not these lush worlds.

A row of consoles lined one wall and she ran a finger across them as she passed by. Her wired fingers brushed over dataports, sending frissons up her arm.

At the far end of the common room were two hatches to the left and right, with a ramp to the bridge between them. The bridge hatch was resolutely shut. Edie chose the hatch on the right, which was open, and almost ran into a woman hurrying in the other direction. They both pulled back and appraised one another. The woman was small and wiry, with the worn-out look that comes from decades of hard work.

“Excuse me, ma'am. Can I help you?”

Edie wasn't used to such deference. Perhaps the woman was a serf. In any case, the blue apron and simple tunic identified her as the cook.

“I'm looking for food.”

“Supper's not served for an hour, ma'am. You can raid the
galley, if you like.” The cook pointed vaguely toward one side of the mess, and Edie nodded her thanks.

“I'll do that.”

The woman scurried off. Edie had never been addressed as “ma'am” in her life and it didn't sit well. Somehow she didn't think Finn would call her that.

In the galley, a small room in the corner, the remains of lunch had been left warming. Edie poured a flask of water and picked at pieces of soft, meat-filled dumplings. The dough was spongy and slightly sweet—a good deal better than her usual fare on Talas Prime.

Near the warming pan was a serving window covered with shutters. She cracked open the shutters and peered into what must be the captain's dining room. A wooden table surrounded by eight upholstered chairs stood in the center of a lavishly appointed room. Paneled walls displayed a range of original paintings, not a holo among them. An impractical rug covered most of the deck. Twisting up the bulkhead in one corner was a grotesque sculpture that must pass for art on some benighted world, and a coffin-sized decorated crystal box—possibly a musical instrument—occupied another corner. A large glass-fronted wine cabinet displayed dozens of bottles in its softly lit interior. As her first glimpse of Captain Rackham's tastes, this was certainly intriguing.

Voices approached from behind, and she quickly closed the shutters. She'd rather not be discovered yet, especially when she recognized one of the voices as Haller's. But the cook must have told him where to find her, because within seconds he was in the galley looking at her with amusement.

“We may be pirates, but we do use plates and spoons around here.”

She glanced at her fistful of dumplings and felt her face coloring. Haller handed her a plate from an overhead locker. He gave her bare feet a pointed look.

“We wear boots, too.”

“They were too big.”

Haller sighed dramatically, as if she was going to be more
trouble than she was worth. With the crook of his finger, he beckoned her out of the galley. She set her jaw and suffered the patronizing gesture. Zeke waited in the mess with Finn. They made for an ominous pair—of equal height, the younger with toned muscles where the older was turning to bulky middle-aged fat. To her dismay, Finn still wore the voice snag.

Edie slid onto the nearest bench with her food, hunger pangs mingling with the faint nausea of panic.

“This is Finn,” Haller said.

“We met.” Edie couldn't bring herself to look at the serf, even though she sensed he was looking at her.

“We've finished up his psych and med tests. I'm putting him in your charge.”

His turn of phrase annoyed her, and she couldn't resist a sweet smile at the executive officer. “Why, thank you.”

Haller folded his arms and exchanged an amused look with Zeke. “He's in the curious position of being both serf and crew. Stichting Corp wants him clinging to you like a bad smell, so he'll be sleeping in your quarters. I understand Zeke has explained about the boundary chip. There's a couple more things we need to discuss.”

While Edie digested the startling information that she was to share her quarters with a stranger who looked like he could crush her windpipe with his little finger if he wanted to, Haller signaled to Zeke. The op-teck threw a belt onto the table with enough momentum to send it slithering across the top. It came to rest against the back of Edie's hand.

“Standard tool belt, courtesy of the
Hoi Polloi
. You got your basic swissarmy tools, a commclip, datacaps, diagnostic rod, and a couple of spare hardlinks for your fancy biocyph tricks.” Zeke seemed inordinately pleased with himself for having put together such a gift for her. “Oh, and a big fat drub there in the recharge bracket”—he patted the drub in his own belt where it rested against his thigh—“just in case.”

He gave Finn a brief but meaningful glare. The serf hadn't
stopped looking at Edie, with the same stony expression she'd seen earlier in the cellblock.

Turning the belt over with one hand, Edie flicked the bracket open to extract the drub. It gave a beep to signal its readiness for action. She'd seen the handlers use them on Talas Prime Station—mostly as a simple cudgel, but it could also deliver a shock. The idea of her using it on Finn was comical. In a mirror image of Zeke's action, she tossed the drub back across the table and he slapped down his hand to catch it.

“Don't need that,” she said, and a frown creased the big man's brow.

Haller was unmoved. “Why don't you head belowdeck, Zeke? I'm sure you have work to do.”

Zeke started to protest but Haller held him silent with one raised finger. Zeke belted the drub, looking more confused than annoyed, and left.

Haller sat down beside Edie, facing outward, and leaned back against the table on his elbows, stretching out his legs. He gave Finn a slow once-over, and Edie found herself doing the same. Finn was powerfully built and instantly intimidating, with no hint of Zeke's good humor to soften the effect. The sense of lurking danger lingered in his eyes, but Edie felt no malice directed at her. If he knew anything at all about her situation, he'd presumably figured out they were on the same side here. He'd been given basic crew garb to wear—charcoal cargo pants and sleeveless jacket with utility pockets, a tee, and boots. So he wasn't to be treated like a labor-gang serf, at least—other than the voice snag at his throat.

“Despite appearances, his psych profile checks out,” Haller said. “Cooperative, smart. Not impulsively violent, but good in a fight.”

How exactly did they know that?

“His instructions are to keep you alive, pure and simple,” Haller continued. “No idea what else he might be good for.” He chuckled, then pulled himself upright and his noncha
lant air dissolved. “Now, I'm not saying you're in any great danger. I want to reassure you of that. On a ship like this, everyone looks out for everyone. We're all armed whenever we leave the
Hoi
outside Crib space—even him. We're not milits but we know how to handle ourselves. You're the heart of the mission and you'll be protected. This guard dog is extra insurance that Stichting Corp, bless 'em, seems to think we need.”

With a twinge of satisfaction, Edie realized Finn's presence damaged Haller's pride. He was annoyed his people weren't considered capable of protecting her themselves. And yet the more he talked about the danger she wasn't in, the more she felt he was worried about her safety.

And what of Finn? Was she safe from him? The leash gave him a good incentive not to kill her, but there were ways he could hurt or bully her. If he somehow forced her away from the others, how could she protect herself?

Haller noticed her wary appraisal of the serf and guessed her thoughts. “You can jolt him. You know what that means?”

Edie shook her head, transfixed by Finn's dark eyes as they slid toward the XO and narrowed. He knew what Haller was talking about, even if she didn't.

“At the medfac, when they hijacked your wet-teck interface, they installed a trigger. Take a look.”

She mentally filed through her interface's setups and found the implanted subroutine.

“You flip the switch and his chip overloads momentarily,” Haller explained. “Minces up his neurons. He's incapacitated for a few seconds. Do it a few times and you can knock him out. Oh, and it hurts like hell, too. Give it a try.”

“I'll take your word for it, sir.”