Low Port Part 5

Izu put her hands over her eyes. The skin over her jaw was once more a clear, pale ivory. "Do you realize what you'd be doing to him? He wouldn't be your crewmate anymore, or your brother, he'd be a denanos. There aren't many places he could live except for Glory."

What had Wen said? "Better to rule in h.e.l.l than to live as a leper anywhere else," Awandi said.

Izu looked suddenly tired. "You think so? n.o.body named the planet for the color of its sunsets."

Awandi didn't even know what a sunset was. "If it turns out he'd rather die, he can always step out the nearest airlock. I suppose s.p.a.ce would kill him eventually?"

Izu swallowed. "Quicker than eventually. But it's not just Glory-"

"Izu, d.a.m.n it!"

"No. Listen to me. Somebody is going to make an informed decision. The nans could mutate, especially since they aren't tailored to his gene code, and it's an ugly way to die. The only work he could get off Glory would be in brutal conditions, in the employ of people who cared for his well-being even less than your company does for yours. He couldn't have children: denanos are made, not born. Whatever the Commonwealth decision about Glory and the Gate, he'll almost certainly not be able to come home again. Ever again." She looked hard at Awandi. "Know what you're asking me to do to him. He would be an object of hatred to millions."

Awandi swallowed, looking away from her brother's face. The memory of her own fear was bitter in her mouth. "Chouss?"

Chouss rubbed at the crease in her forehead. Nodded.

"Wen?"

"You know my vote. I wouldn't put it on him if I weren't willing to do it myself. If it were what I had to do to survive."

Awandi looked again at her brother's battered face. Better to rule in h.e.l.l... She looked up at Izu, swallowed bile, and said, "Do it."

Eight watches later, the independent farfreighter Pardis clamped on to the station's docking ring. Two watches after that, the order for cargo pods began registering on station com. Fourteen pods were being shifted out of delta bay. Three of them were atmosphered.

Izu nodded, calm, when Awandi brought her the news. The denanos had scarcely slept since infecting Soje with her black, nan-thick blood. Within a watch he had ceased to breathe through pink froth, but he still hadn't regained consciousness.

But he hadn't died, either.

The middle of the crew's off watch saw the three of them stagger red-eyed to his cubby, each with a duffel containing gear that would get them an automatic trip through an airlock if security came along. However, security had lately been staying clear of the workers' quarters-most noticeably since Soje's beating: word had spread. Someone took the temperature of the crews and decided to turn down the heat a little. No one had any doubts that it was only a temporary measure, though, and the brutal pace of maintenance and repairs continued unabated.

Most brutal of all for Awandi, Wen and Chouss, since they dared not report Soje's "death" until he and Izu were safely gone; they were in the meantime working short two hands. They could only keep company supervisors out of the pit and out of their hair if they kept up their efficiency rating. Chouss fell asleep against the wall while Awandi and Izu wrestled Soje's slack limbs into the insulation skin, and Wen fought to keep awake to check the breathers. Then they staggered off again, Soje suspended between them in a body bag/duffel of Wen's design, praying the unconscious man would not moan the way he sometimes did. To the personnel lift and down the spoke to the rim, sharing the s.p.a.ce with workers who carefully showed not the least interest in the party and their burden.

Out of the lift and into the cargo pod bay. They were barely able to keep Soje from dragging in the higher pseudo-gravity of the station's rim He did groan once or twice, but the sound was lost in the clamor of the pods being readied for transport. More intensely uninterested workers toiled around them, a backdrop of gray figures into which they could blend and disappear while searching out the right pod. An AuFen inert atmo pod, vast orange egg, it could have been the one that had brought Izu to the station.

The small customs inspection lock was just big enough to send Izu and Soje through one at a time. Maintenance workers cool and efficient at their tasks, Chouss and Wen opened the lock and helped Izu in with her breather, while Awandi unzipped Soje's bag to make sure his mask was secure. It was. Also, his eyes were open, the right one stained with red-and-black blood.

"Hey," she said softly, numb with hope, pulling the mask aside."

"Hey," he said, hoa.r.s.e and slow. "Why can't I move?"

She had to grin. "You're in a body bag."

He grunted and closed his eyes.

"Soje. Soje? It's okay, you're going to be okay. Soje, open your eyes."

Swollen lids drifted open, blinked. "Thought I was dead, he said, as if confirming the thought. Wen and Chouss had closed the inspection lock and were cycling Izu through.

"No, you aren't. You're going to be okay. You're going to Parliament with Izu." Tempting to leave it at that, but she couldn't do that to Izu, or to him. "Izu saved your life, Soje. She made you a denanos. Soje? It was my idea, I made her. So don't blame anyone but me, yeah?"

He blinked, wet his torn and b.l.o.o.d.y lips. "No blame." He seemed beyond surprise. "Denanos, huh? So that's how ... she survived."

"Yeah. Seems the nans can keep your blood from boiling in a decompression. Handy, huh?"

"Huh.'' His eyes drifted closed. Then: "It isn't going... to turn me white... is it?"

Awandi laughed in spite of herself. "She swears it won't."

Chouss turned from the lock and said quietly, "He ready? Izu's through."

Awandi reached for the breather mask. Soje opened his eyes. He seemed more alert this time. "Wait," he said.

"Got a schedule to keep, cousin of mine," Wen said.

"Wait." Soje licked his lips again. "Denanos... can survive decompres... sion?" Another pause, then, on an apparently unconnected thought, "Am I contagious?"

"Yes, and yes," said Wen. "Come on, man, we got to put you through."

"If we were all denanos... we could strike."

It took a second to sink in, then all three of them froze.

"We could strike," Soje said, "and we could win."

Awandi looked at Wen, at Chouss, a chill in her gut. The racket of the pod bay filled in around them like a protective sh.e.l.l.

Wen said, voice thin with uncertainty and surprise, "If it were what we had to do to survive?"

Awandi said, "But what about what Izu said, how denanos have to live?"

"If we held the station," Chouss murmured, barely audible. She licked her lips. "If we held Glory's Gate, and controlled the denanos trade..."

A long moment while no one spoke. Then: "If it's what we have to do to survive," Wen said, uncertainty gone.

Soje took a careful breath, then said softly, "Give me... a kiss good-bye... little sister?"

Awandi looked at them both, her crewmates, her family. Looked at her brother watching her with his black-and-red stained eyes. Awandi wiped her damp cheeks and whispered, "What we have to do to survive."

But what she was thinking was, What we have to do to give you a home to come back to. She bent down and gave Soje a kiss, filling her mouth with the taste of his inhabited blood.

RIIS RUN.

eluki bes shahar

b.u.t.terfly, are you sure this is going to work?" Paladin asked me.

"Trust me," I lied.

We was sitting dead an drifting at marginal power in the middle a the never never, waiting for Fortune's Girl to show up at the rondaytik.

"I do trust you," my partner said. "That's why I'm worried."

Whiles before, was dicing with a kiddy hight Elory Dace an losing, but there's nowt else t'do on Coldwater when you're waiting to lift, an that's certain truth. Sides, I was in the way an for t'kill him soon's I figured out how, me being in the way a doing Oob's hard jobs for him somewhiles, which same Elory should'a known an didn't, so I guessed I'd see my credit again soon enough.

We was both hot pilots for Oob, which meant waiting around on Coldwater for the office now and again. Name's just plain and fancy farcing, cause the last time there been liquid water here was some time afore there been an Empire, which is some whiles even with fancy Imperial accounting. Nothing but ice now. And snow.

I been running cargoes for Oob long times-he put me in my first hull, an now I owned my own, ship Firecat. I was still here because I had lots a good reasons for not wanting to attract major attention from the rich an famous, which main desire ran to working for a wiggly nightbroker who'd sell me out the moment he saw percentages in it, Darktrader's Guild or no. Before Elory, Yours Truly b.u.t.terflies are Free Peace Sincere was the only one a Oob's leggers what ran even close t'Chemovsky main, an that not very, as any scanner'd be happy to tell you. You don't belong along one a the main B Pops on the Chernovsky scale, you don't even get t'take a swing at the Imperial Phoenix. You get to be your plain an fancy "client race," an from where I sit, even being a dicty barb has more upside. Us they just shoot when they catch us outside our proscribed Imperial bought long time gone Interdicted hidey hole.

So when Elory walks in a hundred days ago looking like a new minted citizen fresh from Grand Central an saying he's looking to herd skyjunk in the never never, it don't fadge. Mainline clean scan humans does not go crawling to wiggly nightbrokers for plenty, even if they is spinning fantasy. Whether his Tickets a Leave was forged or no, he could herd skyjunk, an he hit what he aimed at. He could talk Trade, flashcant, patwa, an Interphon well as I could. Our boy Elory had what you might call your basic Job skills a the Outfar. So Oob thunk the obvious thought, an sent him on a silk run with a troublekick he didn't mind losing.

Elory came back, him an his ladybird. Fortune's Girl was a sweet piece a high iron just what she ought to be: not too pretty, not too clean, a old Falke Starhauler built for four an jerryhammered for one. Where she came from weren't n.o.body's bidness but his.

Oob kept sending him, an Elory kept coming back, so Oob did what any bright kiddy with a mind on longevity'd naturally do. He told me off for to send young Elory on the Long Orbit.

There's ninety nine simple ways to let a sophont out a life, an I'd used lots a'em oncet at least. But it don't pay in my line a work to leave unanswered questions on your backtrail, an Elory was six a those. So along of killing him, I wanted a look inside his hull, me an my partner both, which made things a little harder, 'cause that weren't something we could rig whiles there was people around t'see. Plus, I couldn't just shoot him exactly, even if on Coldwater n.o.body'd care. I wasn't all that slow with a heavy, but I'd never seen him draw surprised. He might be faster. An a short fast career a being dead weren't in my life plans.

So I was dicing an losing an thinking, three things Pally says I'm not good at, an two a which I tend to agree with him on somewhiles, while I tried t'figure out how t'ghostwhack Elory Dace an Fortune's Girl an live t'keep quiet about it. It didn't hurt airy a'tall that if I could do it clean his hull would be mine to sell, neither.

Terreckly I'd come along of a plan, an Oob'd liked it when I sold him the pony. Pally hadn't. He's the nervous type. But he didn't get a vote-at least not out where Oob could see-cause n.o.body can know about Paladin.

I found Paladin on Pandora back before I got my first hull. He got me out of a tight spot then, an a lot more since, so we're partners. On Pandora he'd been a box a junk for so long he didn't even know we had a Emperor, an me, I come from so far outside Mainstream I never even heard a High Book-that's Chapter Five a the Revised Inappropriate Technology Act a the Nine Hundredth an Seventy Fifth Year a Imperial Grace to you. Why it matters is cause what my partner Paladin is, is a fully-volitional logic. A Library.

It took the two a us about six minutes Prime t'find out what kind a laws there is against Old Fed artifacts like Paladin after I woke him up, but if anybody knows what Libraries is (other'n "a machine h.e.l.lishly forged in the likeness of a human mind," says the talkingbooks) or why they all has to be destroyed, they isn't talkin'. All I know is the head price on him-an on me for havin' him-has been reliably reported to be enough to buy you outta any crime in the Imperial Calendar, even being a dictybarb away from home.

But you don't sell out your friends.

"He won't be expecting me." We was waiting on Elory, Pally an me. I was improving my partner's nerves. "Thinks he's waitin' on somethin' t'fall off n a Company ship." An Elory wouldn't see us, because he wouldn't be looking. True fact. Pally alluz worries too much.

"And while he is, you're just going to walk up to him and shoot him with that quaint revenant. While I admit it has the virtue of simplicity...

I try to not listen oncet Pally starts talking like a learningbook, because it means he's mad. But what I had in mind ought t'work. I had the suit I use for hullwork an a variable generating compkey, an I didn't need nothing more'n that t'get me into Fortune's Girl. An oncet I was in an Elory was dead, I could cozy Firecat up to Fortune's Girl, hook Pally in t'her computer an let him find out everything she knew.

The hull suit most stardancers use is a step up from an evac bag, but not by much. I stripped an got into mine, because Elory should be here soon an there wasn't no point in waiting around for late breaking current events. Far as...o...b..knew, he was as punctual as he was pretty, an that meant he'd be early.

I put my loose toys in the hotlocker an hooked everything I was taking onto my belt, then sealed the helmet into place. Paladin popped the lock, an Firecat's loose air went on vacation in a plume a ice. He cut lights an power, an my Best Girl disappeared so far as I could see. It got colder. I hung in the hatchway, looking at stars.

Not for long. Fortune's Girl made Transit in a flash a light, close enough t'see her actual shape, which meant we was right on top a her, maybe a dozen many kliks away. His sweeps'd find Firecat in a tik or so, but with no power nor come hither on her it'd take him whiles to puzzle her out. I didn't wait around. I kicked off from my hull.

If I was using power, he'd a spotted me sure, but I was kyting on gas jets: pure mechanical energy, no power suck to tickle his ship eyes. It looked slow, but I knew better than to hustle. In Market Garden I saw what happened to kiddies as tried playing fast an loose with inertia. I had time. He wasn't going anywheres until he had what he came for, nevermind it weren't here.

Neither was I, by what he knew.

I landed on his hull soft an sweet as a first kiss an walked forward till I reached the main access hatch. He'd hear me coming-it was too much luck to hope for to think he wouldn't-but I had the edge.

I hoped.

The comp key got me through the lock. I left my helmet an jetpack there. If I needed them, I'd be dead already. The other things I kept with me.

Shipped stock from High Mikasa, the Falke Starhauler's got a c.o.c.kpit access hatch. Most stardancers junk it in the stripdown for nightworld running, an everyone else I know keeps it locked back, cause a alla the roundaboutation you got t'do when you're short crewed.

But Elory, bright lad, liked the exercise. Or else he was born worried. It was in place. An it was locked. Not a problem.

Most folks in my line a work are specialists. Stardancers herd skyjunk. Hardboys do wetwork. Priggers an shimcribs take care of actual valuta liberation, providing always the valuta's on the heavyside. If your kick's on a ship, an the whole ship's being taken, what you got is your genuine, honest to Thrilling Wonder Talkingbooks s.p.a.ce Pirates, which I guessed I now was.

All a which is a roundabout way a saying that in a Empire full a one hit wonders, I can manage a little bit a everything. It took a little more farcing than the outside hatch, but not much, an I was through.

The hatch peeled back. Elory was waiting.

"It's you," he said, getting up.

He sounded disappointed, like he was maybe expecting someone taller. I didn't wait for the color commentary: he had a ship's axe in his hands an looked ready to use it. I fired.

n.o.body but a d.a.m.n fool carries a blaster inboard a ship s.p.a.ce. Rupture your hull, damage your fields, an there's nothing between you an the streets a Angel City but hope an good wishes. That's why pirates wear armor when they board a ship, an why they teach swordplay to Highliner an Company crews. Plasma weapons ain't safe inboard, an a stunner will fry tronics as well as organics. But where I come from, they ain't never heard a neither Blasters nor s.p.a.ceships, an I was born a blacksmith's daughter. I'd had time t'plan an make what I needed.

I was carrying a crossbow.

The first bolt took him in the shoulder, an the second one in the chest. By then I was out a ammo, but Elory Dace was outta time. He dropped the axe, took a step, an dropped to his knees.

"Why?" he asked.

He was bleeding in a way it'd be hard t'fake, an I could see both his hands, so I risked going close enough to touch. There wasn't any fight left in him, not even for revenge. He went all the way down whiles I was getting there, an I caught him, easing him onto his back. Crossbow bolts is short-piece a metal long as your hand an thick as your finger-an these had gone all the way in. He was coughing blood in the sincere way that don't encourage you to plan ahead so I guessed I owed him the truth.

"Oob don't like things what don't make sense, che bai."

He smiled, like he thought that was funny. All of a sudden he looked worried, like it'd just occurred to him he was taking the Long Orbit.

"Promise me... I was going, to Riis... pickup a package. Take my run."

Riis is a Restricted World, furs, drugs, gemstones, an a damfool sense a their own importance. It'd be a tight fit, his cargo in Firecat, but I couldn't see the harm.

"I promise," I said. The Clearances would probably be in his comps, if he hadn't just been stargathering for bloodlack, an I'd know that soon enough.

Then he was dead, an I'd earned my bonus.