Dark Star (17 page)

“Are you ready?” Gillian sounded scared.

“If I don’t do this, it could get worse. I won’t blame you if it goes bad.” Her mouth was dry, her limbs loose like they were filled with nothing but water.

“Okay, I’m transferring the instructions to the machine so I can see them on the controls.”

A moment later, Gillian was standing behind Rosie’s bed at the machine. She was still hesitating though. “You ready?”

“Just do it,” Rosie said.

“Okay.” There was the sound of low beeps and Rosie heard the machine come online with a soft hum. The glowing orb at the end of the machine’s arm descended to hover above her head.

“I’ve got to focus regulators first,” Gillian said, “then I’ll put the patches on.”

The thrumming reverberation of a change in energy ran through the bed and the orb began to rotate. The small lights disorientated Rosie as she followed it’s trajectory around and around, faster and faster. The disc lowered and she flinched as it released a fine cap of wires over her forehead and skull. The moment they touched her, all the saliva dried in Rosie’s mouth and nausea roiled in her gut. She closed her eyes against the swirling lights.

“The patches?” she said faintly.

“Here.” Gillian’s cool hands touched her arm and Rosie felt the temple patches adhering to her skin. “Now, I’m going to activate it,” Gillian said. “Tell me to stop if anything feels wrong.”

“I’ll try.” Rosie was having trouble speaking over the sick feeling in her gut. Gillian went back to the machine and she felt the patches come alive.

It was nothing like what Cassie had done in Nation. It was as if someone had shoved a large clumsy hand inside her head and was rummaging around. She arched up from the bed, every muscle straining, her heart rate increasing fast, too fast.

It felt like the implant was being stretched. Before, she had sensed it as a mass, a heaviness in her head, but now it felt elongated, as if the petals of it were being drawn apart bit by bit. And parts of it were straying away, breaking off like a ship’s hull punctured in orbit. She tried to speak but nothing came, as pain, sharp as hot steel, pierced her. She cried out as tiny hot flares of something plucked at her retinas, her cortex, like the flutter of a thousand insect wings, only razor sharp. Dimly, she thought she heard Gillian’s panicked voice, but all focus disappeared as her chest seized. She couldn’t inhale. She thrashed around on the bed, fighting for air. Gillian ripped the patches off. And her voice was suddenly audible, calling Rosie’s name. A breather was shoved over her mouth. “Here!”

Rosie sucked in a breath, eyes tightly closed, grasping at the mouthpiece and holding it tight against her face as she drew the oxygen in. She felt the implant snap back to shape like an elastic band and opened her eyes, blinking against the sudden harsh light. The filaments of the orb retracted as it spun up and away from her, the humming slowing.

“Slower breaths.” Gillian sounded anxious, scared. The oxygen began to clear her head and, after a minute, Rosie was able to push the breather away. “You okay?” Gillian’s leaned over her, her dark hair falling on Rosie’s shoulder.

Rosie didn’t answer right away.

She could see. The room was back in focus, edges sharp again, the cloudiness gone.

“Rosie?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I can see.” She slowly sat up.

Gillian’s face lit up with relief. “I thought I’d killed you.”

“Still alive.”

“Download didn’t work though,” Gillian said.

“Yeah, I guessed that.” Rosie leaned on her as she slid off the bed. A sharp pain pulled at her spine as her feet met the floor, and her breath felt constricted. She worried what they’d done to the implant, but she was alive. And she could see. That was something.

“We better get moving,” Rosie said.

“And exactly where are you going?” They spun around. Alpha was standing at the doors, with Hanto behind him. “Isn’t this an interesting situation?” Alpha said.

“Sir, we were just–” Gillian began.

He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I’m not interested, Ms Turi. Hanto, escort them to solitary.”

“Someone has to pay,” Whitely said. “And your niece is no innocent. She’s done things, Ms Black – evaded my people at the Senate, colluded with divisive elements and now she is deep in with the organisation I am attempting to terminate. You cannot expect me to let all of that slide.”

“Rosie went to Helios to bring them down from the inside – she’s risking her life.” Essie was struggling not to thump this guy, but his attitude wasn’t making it easy. “Besides, right now, you’ve got nothing and you know it. Whatever Rosie finds is worth more than pure water to you. You need her to make you look good. So when I get her out, and when I get you the information you need to stop Helios, you will make sure Rosie is cleared of all charges. Hell,” she leaned closer so they were nose to nose and she could smell his fishy breath, “you’ll throw her a goddamn parade, or I’ll find someone else who will appreciate this opportunity.”

Whitely hadn’t moved, but she was getting to him. He was sweating, beads of it forming on his upper lip. They had met in a narrow passage between the kitchen of a noodle shop and its supply dock. It was steamy and chaotic. On one side, the noodle cooks raced around the tiny kitchen arguing and crashing pots and, on the other, through a mesh door, the sound of transports arriving and unloading was a constant thrum of shouts and thumps. The stench of cooking oil hung in the air, and the wall of cold units Whitely was pressed up against was covered in condensation. The Senate man looked out of place in his insignia jacket and underneath, his shirt was soaked in sweat, clinging to his pudgy middle.

“I will see what I can do,” he said stiffly. “If she succeeds.”

Essie drew back. “That’s a start.”

“This had better be worth it,” he said. “If you bring me nothing but hearsay and rumour, our deal is off and I’ll throw that girl in a cell, with you for company.”

“Promises, promises.” Essie headed for the mesh door. “I’ll contact you again, thanks for the intel.”

She felt his beady eyes follow her out into the crowded delivery area. The man was a rodent but he’d come through. Deep in her pants pocket was a chit and on it the location of a large complex outside the city that had to be the Enclave where Sulawayo had taken Rosie. Whitely had said as far as the Senate knew, it was part of an abandoned town site. An old granary. And the images picked up by the Senate aerial surveillance seemed to bear that out. Nothing but what appeared to be ruined buildings, which was why it had never been investigated. But Essie was sure Helios had some tech that confused the scanners and made them see what they wanted them to, camouflaged it with image-distorting reflectors or something. It was the Enclave, all right. Combined with what Pip had found out, she was sure it was the right spot. Essie pulled her com from her pocket and studied the anonymous message she’d received earlier that day from the gang Pip was friendly with.

Dock 13. Four pm
.

It was the designation for the most recent drop-off point for passengers from illegal ships bringing people in from off world. She hoped it meant news of Riley, but she couldn’t be sure. It could be a trick, or a mistake, or someone hoping to get the jump on her. There were a few space pirates who had a grudge against her from her Elite days. But she hoped she was wrong. She was putting her com away when it pinged. She checked the ID. Pip.

“What?” She flicked it on as she walked back for her bike.

“So what did you find, Aunty?” Pip’s face appeared, his dark hair a mess as usual.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.”

“Tell me now, come on; I’m dying of boredom here.” He lowered his voice. “Cassie’s driving me nuts with her science experiments. Give me something else to think about.”

Essie smirked. Cassie had brought some of her Nation work with her; a small machine and a stock of vials and other mysterious medical junk. She’d set up a mini research lab in one room of the Game Pit and was probably using Pip as a guinea pig. She guessed she could take some pity on the kid.

“He confirmed it,” she said. “It’s out there. I’ll send you the coordinates, if –” she emphasised, “–
if
you promise you’ll only amuse yourself with strategies. No actual action, you can’t expose yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Aunty; I’m like a black hole, all vacuum-sealed up here.”

“Right.” Essie shook her head and activated a transfer. “Stay put, Pipsqueak. I might have a surprise for you soon you won’t want to miss.”

“Long as it’s not a weapon pointed at my favourite parts. I know how you get.”

“You best shut up now or it will be.”

“Shutting up.” Pip winked at her and grinned as he saw the information transfer come through. “Be safe, Aunty.”

Her com went dark. Shaking her head, Essie shoved it back in her jacket. She retrieved the bio bike from the kid she’d paid to watch it and revved out of the Banks. She thought about checking in on Dalton. She felt guilty for leaving him out in the cold for so long, especially since he’d pulled that stupid stunt accusing his father of being Helios on the Rogue Waves. But right now she was going to be late if she didn’t get to the dock point. She’d ping him later. After all, he could probably survive a few more hours.

The city was sweltering under the late afternoon heat and Essie was sweating beneath her UV jacket by the time she reached the warehouse. Outside, a few other bio bikes were parked, all guarded by a couple of muscled gang members. Their heads turned in unison as Essie left her bike against the warehouse wall. She nodded at them and walked past to the door.

“Boys.”

One stepped in front of her. “Scan.”

Essie spread her arms wide and he ran a reader over her, then jerked his head back to the metal door. “Cargo’s already there,” he said.

“Good to know.” Essie went in, blinking against the sudden dimness. The warehouse was a big open space, no partitions, nothing but a wide crete floor, pitted with holes. The roof was strung with barely effective glows and a few other gang members hovered in the corners, heavily armed.

In the centre of the room was the cargo. Essie’s pulse sped up as she strode towards the small group of people settling their debts with the gang reps. There was a man with his back to her. Tall enough, brown hair. Thinner though. Something was gripping her too hard inside. She stopped behind him, watching as the payment exchanged hands. The other “cargo” was dispersing fast.

“So reports of your death were exaggerated then?” she said.

His head tilted a fraction.

“Hello, Essie.” Riley turned around. Essie swung at him, but he’d been expecting it and bent swiftly left so she missed. He grabbed her wrist almost gently.

“I’m glad to see you as well.”

She pulled away, angry at herself as much as him. He seemed exhausted, lines etched into his face. “You left a nice mess for us,” she said.

“I know,” He said, looking pained. “And I know about Rosie.”

“Yeah, you trained her well.” Essie put her hands on her hips. She’d missed him, too much. Not that he deserved to know that.

“Have you found Rosie?” he asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“Good.” At his feet was one small bag. “We need to continue this elsewhere.”

“Got a place,” Essie said, “with some special guests already waiting for you. Here.” She thrust her spare bike helmet at him. He took it and hesitated.

“I’m sorry, Essie. For everything. You know I would have come back sooner if I could have.”

She sighed. Over his shoulder the ship rep was ignoring them, packing up her gear, but could probably hear every word.

“Yeah, well, come on.” She took a step back. “Let’s get out of here.”

Pip had been working on the information Essie had sent him for the past hour, thinking about approach routes, what kind of security the Enclave might have. He could make a pretty good guess at that after seeing it firsthand, but all that planning didn’t cure the antsy feeling inside.

He wanted to be out there, finding a way to get Rosie away from them. The thought of how Helios could be hurting her was doing his head in. Even more so now he knew where she was.

He sat at one of the tables in the main bar scratching at a map he’d found in Fury’s office. The woman herself was behind the bar sculling shots of some homemade liquor and sending com pings to drug and weapon contracts. She let out a stream of obscenities at someone and slammed her glass down, her white blond curls bouncing around her head.

Pip almost felt sorry for the guy on the other end. Fury was aptly named. He’d never once seen her smile, scowling and ranting was more her thing. He had no idea how old she was but she was as thin as a Feral and her skin was embedded with holos: green, pink and blue swirls constantly moved under the upper layer. It could make you cross-eyed if you watched it too long. And Pip couldn’t help wondering exactly what certain parts of her looked like with all that swirling colour. Not that he wanted to see it. He almost shuddered.

“And what are you staring at?” She snapped her head up and glared at him across the otherwise empty bar room, blue flaring across her cheekbones.