Rebel (3 page)

“I take it you’re alone now? All your friends gone?”

“Bread and cheese?”

He blew out a breath. “There’s at least one left, then.”

She shot him a glare. “You’re not dumb, are you?”

“Hey, I may
look
like a big, dumb stud, but I wasn’t born yesterday—speaking of which, if you’ve been on the street all this time, how can you be sure about your age?”

“I was two years old at the start of the new millennium. And it’s 3020, right?”

“Right.” He certainly couldn’t fault her math. “Okay, kid.” He held out his hand. “My name is Onca, and I was born not long before Zetith got blown to bits in 2984. And your name is…?”

She stared at him for a long moment before she replied. “Kim.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Kim. Now, where’s this other friend of yours?”

“I wish I knew. She was following me. I hope that creep didn’t catch her—though she isn’t what you’d call…”

“Pretty?”

“Not unless you like Kitnocks.”

In Onca’s opinion, Kitnocks were even uglier than Norludians, but there was no accounting for taste. “Got a signal worked out?”

“Yeah. Been trying to decide whether to trust you or not.”

“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ll even help you find your friends.”

“How?”

Onca hadn’t figured that out yet. “Dunno. Maybe we should call the police.”

“No. Please don’t. We’ve, I’ve—”

“Stolen lots of stuff?”

“Yeah. They’d probably throw us in jail until the
next
millennium.”

“I doubt that. What’s the Kitnock girl’s name?”

“Jatki,” she replied. “She’s probably watching the house. Nice house, by the way.”

Onca shrugged. “Nothing special. Just a house.”

“More like a palace to me.”

“You want to see a palace, you should see my brothel. It’s pretty cool.”

She frowned. “I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on. I said I wouldn’t fuck you. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.” He pulled a wedge of cheese out of the stasis unit and handed her a loaf of bread. “Here, I’ll even give you a knife.”

“I’ve got one,” she said.

He arched a brow. “Where?”

With a sly grin, she drew it out of one of the tails of the satin thing she was wearing.

“Not bad,” he remarked. “Although I’m guessing that isn’t your usual attire. Would you like something else to put on? One of my shirts would probably look like a dress on you.”

She nodded. “I do feel sort of naked.”

He wasn’t about to tell her she
looked
naked—not after getting her to trust him this much. He waved a hand. “Eat up. I’ll be right back.”

Onca went into the bedroom and checked his closet. He didn’t have a whole lot of clothing himself, although he did find a tunic that Roncas had given him. As little as Kim was, she could probably borrow something from the tiny Zuteran. He pulled his comlink out of his pocket. “Oh, God. I can hear her now.”

Roncas answered on the first ring, her bright pink face filling the viewscreen. “You couldn’t have been home for ten minutes, and you’re calling me
already
?”

“Yeah. I need to borrow some clothes. I found a girl on the way home.”

The Zuteran’s derisive laughter sounded like a bird twittering. “You are not serious!”

He rolled his eyes. “I know it sounds weird, but it’s not like that. I rescued her from a Herpatronian.”

Her teardrop-shaped eyes stared back at him in total disbelief. “You
rescued
someone?”

“Is that so impossible?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

“Hey, just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I’m incapable.”

Roncas didn’t reply, mainly because she’d pressed her lips together as though trying not to laugh. Her silvery hair rippled.

“I do carry a gun, you know.”

“You
shot
a Herpatronian?”

“Pinged him on the ass. He was assaulting a lady.”

“A lady small enough to wear my clothes? How old is she? Seven or eight?”

“Twenty-two,” he shot back. “And get this—she’s Zetithian.”

Roncas arched a brow. “Rather small for a Zetithian, wouldn’t you say?”

“Been starved too much,” Onca replied. “Must’ve stunted her growth.”

“Okay. This I
have
to see. I’ll be there shortly.”

Although she had been hired to add a touch of class to the operation, Roncas had loosened up considerably during her time as the Palace receptionist. As a result, her once-formal speech patterns were now an odd mix of Stantongue and a variety of Earth-based idioms, liberally laced with Rhylosian slang. She still looked like a porcelain doll, though. Hopefully Kim wouldn’t freak out when she saw her. Zuterans were about as rare on Rhylos as Zetithians.

Kim was nibbling on a piece of cheese when Onca returned to the kitchen, proving that her liking for cheddar was stronger than her need to escape. He tossed her the tunic. “A friend of mine is on her way over with some clothes. You can wear that in the meantime.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“Nope. She’s technically an employee, although sometimes she acts like she’s my mother. Don’t worry. She’s harmless.”

Kim slipped on the tunic, which, as Onca had suspected, hit her at mid-thigh. Reaching beneath it, she pulled out the strip of satin from where it had been tied around her breasts and used it as a belt.

“Not bad.” Actually, she looked more like an elf than ever, but he thought it best not to say so.

“Onca.” Something about the way she said it made it sound like a question. “That’s not your full name, is it?”

“I was a baby when my parents put me on the refugee ship. They said my name was Onca. Fortunately, no one seems to care that I don’t have a surname.”

Except
me
. Although he would never admit it to anyone, it made him feel alone, disconnected.

“Kimcasha Shrovenach.” She smiled wistfully. “I have to say it to myself every day so I don’t forget it.”

“Nice name,” he said.

“Yeah.” She glanced at the table. “I think I’m full now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The atmosphere between them had changed. Onca couldn’t put his finger on the how or the why, but something was different. Something that made him want to take her in his arms and never let go…

No
need
to
get
all
mushy.
His attempt to shake off the feeling failed. Maybe she should stay with Roncas.

Yeah, right. Two tiny little women against a Herpatronian?

Nope. Not gonna let it happen. No way.

The whine of a speeder, followed by a chime that seemed to reverberate throughout the house, broke the silence. Kim dove under the table. While she might feel foolish when Onca’s visitor turned out to be harmless, looking stupid was infinitely preferable to being caught unawares.

“I’m sure it’s only Roncas,” Onca said. “Not the police or a gang of Herpatronians.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

With reflexes honed by years of eluding anything and everything, Kim prided herself on her ability to keep herself safe. Letting that thug catch her had taken all the determination she possessed. She tightened her grip on her knife.

Onca gave her a grim smile. Shaking his head, he called out, “Let her in, Captain.”

“Captain?” Kim echoed. “Have you got a-a servant?”

“No. Captain is the house computer. He likes to be called Captain.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Ain’t that right, Captain?”

“It is,” a deep, disembodied voice replied. “I shall allow the Zuteran to enter.” The voice sounded reluctant, even weary.

Onca grimaced. “You needn’t sound so damned sulky about it.” He glanced at Kim. “Captain doesn’t care for Roncas. I’ve never understood why.”

“She is…
peculiar
,” the computer said in a haughty tone. “And she’s much too pink.”

Never having heard of Zuterans before, Kim suspected that perhaps the computer hadn’t, either. “I bet you don’t like her because her species wasn’t in your database.”

A rude buzz confirmed her suspicion.

Onca gaped at her. “Damn. I never thought of that.” He aimed a scowl at the ceiling. “You stuck-up, holier-than-thou piece of shit—”

“Now, now,” a tiny, silver-haired woman said as she entered the kitchen. “Don’t go pissing off the computer.”

“Should’ve replaced the fucker when I bought the house,” Onca grumbled. “Never has behaved the way he should.”

Kim thought it odd that a computer would even be capable of behavior, let alone be referred to by a masculine pronoun. “Maybe you should treat it more like a machine.”

Onca arched a brow. “You’ve obviously never lived in a house run by one of
them
before. They have ways of retaliating.”

Roncas giggled. “Like the time he started waking you up with an Erasic trumpet fanfare?”

With a nod, Onca darted a look at Kim. “Yeah. That’s when I started sleeping at the Palace.” He frowned. “Might have to get a new system now that I’ll be spending more time here—or reprogram him.” He held out a hand. “You can get up now, Kim. I think it’s fairly obvious Roncas isn’t here to rape or murder you.”

Ignoring his offer of assistance, Kim crawled out from under the table and stood up.

Roncas aimed her huge, teardrop-shaped eyes at Kim and twittered. “Twenty-two years old, my grandmother’s ass,” she scoffed. “This kid has certainly pulled the wool over your kitty-cat eyes, Boss. Good thing you haven’t tried to nail her. She’s naught but jailbait.”

Kim stared at the strange, birdlike woman whose skin was as intensely pink as Captain had described. “I’m not a kid,” she insisted. “I’m taller than you are.” An observation that, for once, was actually true. She had at least a centimeter on the Zuteran.

“Perhaps, but my species is naturally small,” Roncas said. “Yours is not.” The Zuteran continued to study her. “Wish I’d thought to bring my scanner. Then we’d know for sure.”

“What difference does it make?” Onca said, clearly exasperated. “I’m not planning to fuck her. I just fed her and gave her a shirt. There’s no crime in that.” His eyes widened. “Is there?”

A weary sigh came from above. “If anyone cares to consult my superior skill and knowledge, Miss Shrovenach is indeed her stated chronological age, plus four point five months, and is precisely one hundred forty-eight centimeters in height. Shall I give you her weight as well?”

“No!” Kim knew she was undersized. She didn’t need Onca’s computer to tell her that the little birdwoman outweighed her.

“And providing her with food and clothing is not a crime on this or any other world,” Captain continued. “With the possible exception of Zutera.”

Roncas let out a cry like a bird of prey about to strike.

“Now, now,” Onca said, echoing Roncas’s earlier admonition. “Let’s not get pissed off at the computer.”

“Why not?” the Zuteran shot back. “You fuss about him all the time.”

“It is impolite to refer to any sentient being in the third person when he or she is present in the room,” Captain intoned.

“Sentient being?” Roncas echoed. “You think of yourself as
sentient
?”

“Although mechanical, I am possessed of senses and am conscious. Therefore, I am sentient.”

Onca put up a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t argue with him, Roncas. Trust me, you can’t win.”

Kim was beginning to believe she’d fallen in with a pair of lunatics who argued with computers and made a habit of handing out free food and clothing to street urchins. Of course, if that were true, she and her compatriots would have known about it and taken advantage of the service long ago. She still didn’t trust him—or Roncas—enough to give Jatki the all-clear signal. Not yet, anyway.

Having shot a scathing glance at the ceiling, Roncas held out a bundle of clothing. “Here, Kim. These will probably fit you, that is, if they don’t fall off. I must say, I’ve never seen a child so thin before.”

Kim gritted her teeth. “I am not a child!”

“I believe we’ve established that.” Onca nodded toward what she assumed was his bedroom. “Why don’t you go try those on? If they don’t fit, I’ll take you shopping.”

“Shopping? You mean with money?”

Onca stared at her as though she had sprouted wings. “Uh, yeah. I wasn’t planning to steal anything for you.”

Of
course
he meant with money. He’d probably never had to steal in his life—and he certainly wouldn’t need to start now. Not when he could afford a computer-controlled house like this one. Without further comment, she took the clothes from Roncas and left the room.

As nice as the kitchen was—no matter what Onca thought, in her eyes, it was palatial—his bedroom could have belonged to a king. High-ceilinged and with a carpet so soft she might have been walking barefoot on a cloud, the walls were an iridescent greenish blue that changed color with every move she made. Multicolored ivy with huge heart-shaped leaves grew up the wall from an urn sitting in a corner, making a circuit of the room where the walls met the ceiling. The far wall was covered with the image of a deep green forest so lifelike that birds actually flitted from branch to branch and a waterfall cascaded from a crevice high up on a rocky cliff face. The round bed was set on a low dais with a gauzy drapery suspended above it that was studded with lights that twinkled like tiny stars.

Now that she had eaten, exhaustion overcame her wary nature, and at that moment, fucking Onca for the privilege of sleeping in his bed didn’t seem like such a hardship.

He
promised
he
wouldn’t do that.

She glanced at her bare feet. They were filthy—and so was the rest of her. She couldn’t climb into that bed without taking a bath first.

For as long as she could remember, her only baths involved sneaking down to the shore for a swim in the ocean. Soap and fresh, clean water were amenities she hadn’t had since the murder of her family.

A footstep drew her attention as Onca stopped just outside the open doorway. “If you want to get cleaned up, the soap is there on the ledge.” He pointed at the forest-covered wall. “Just tell Captain when you’re ready to dry off.”

Kim’s jaw dropped as she realized that the “image” of the forest was real. “Th-thank you.”

He replied with a nod and left. The door slid shut in his wake.

Kim stepped gingerly across the room to the edge of the forest. A slight humming was the only clue that a force field had parted to let her pass, which explained why the birds were in the forest and not in the bedroom. Onca might insist that this was “just a house,” but the enormity of his wealth stunned her like a pulse blast.

The trees were alive, as was the grass that covered the ground. Looking up, she saw open sky where the ceiling should have been and watched as several birds flitted in and out of the trees. As she approached the waterfall, she noted that the floor beneath it was actually a stone catch basin, and the excess water drained away through a notch near the cliff face to become a gurgling stream that wound its way through the trees.

The forest was dimly lit by the morning sky above, but the moment she gazed at the “shower,” thinking she needed more light, the catch basin and the rocky wall behind the cascading water slowly illuminated. Putting out a tentative hand, she tested the temperature of the water, which was cold at first, then gradually became warmer as it washed over her skin.

Kim could see the ledge Onca had referred to now—a shell-shaped depression held a bar of soap. Stripping off the tunic and the few scraps of satin that formed the rest of her attire, she stepped into the basin.

The closest she had come to taking a shower in many years involved standing out in the rain, and though the climate on Rhylos was warm as a rule, rainfall was infrequent and slightly chilly—something to be avoided rather than enjoyed. But now, as hot water deluged her body, plastering her curls to her head, Kim couldn’t imagine a greater pleasure—although the meal she had just eaten came close.

She picked up the soap, which formed a thick, foamy lather at her slightest touch. Smoothing it over her skin was akin to washing herself with an addicting drug—soft, creamy, ecstatic…

Ecstasy.
Although she had heard that term used in reference to sex and the effects of various drugs, she had never fully understood the meaning of the word until now. Kim had never taken any illegal street drugs—or any of the legal ones, for that matter—and sex had left her cold. Food and other essentials were far more important. Still, if she’d known soap could elicit this kind of response, she might have stolen some of it sooner. As it was, she considered taking this bar with her when she left—as she fully intended to do.

She couldn’t stay here. Not when her friends were suffering. She almost despised herself for taking this time away from her search to indulge in something so blatantly selfish. Never mind that she probably wouldn’t have any luck finding them during the daylight hours.

Well…perhaps a short nap would be okay. Even the most dedicated detective had to sleep sometimes. Brains tended to work better when they weren’t running on insufficient sleep. Not having spent much time in school, there were plenty of things Kim didn’t know, but this was one lesson experience had taught her.

Rinsing off the last of the soap, she stepped out of the basin. “Um, Captain. I need to dry off now.”

Half expecting a towel to drop from the sky, she was startled when a warm breeze wafted around her instead. Within a few seconds, she was completely dry. “Great. Could I borrow a comb?”

“Unnecessary,” Captain said. “The dryer was already set for Zetithian hair.”

Whatever
that
meant. Curious, she ran an experimental hand through her curls, amazed to find that her fingers met no tangled resistance whatsoever. Obviously there were advantages to being found by a rich Zetithian.

On the other hand, long spiral curls like Onca’s were totally impractical for anyone living on the street—something she had discovered when hers had gotten caught on a street vendor’s stall during her first attempt at thievery. She had escaped the encounter with a bleeding scalp, a Rhylosian sausage, and the intention of cutting her hair as soon as possible. The next thing she had stolen was a knife, which, despite its rather blunt edge, she’d used to hack off her waist-length tresses. Kim had learned a lot since then, not the least of which was how to put a razor-sharp edge on an old blade. She’d also discovered that shorter hair made her appear younger than her actual years. Onca and Roncas weren’t the first to make the assumption that she was a child—a side effect she had frequently used to her advantage.

Looking like a kid hadn’t helped her friends, though. Every one of them had been as undernourished as she, and they had still been snatched off the street. At least, Kim
thought
that was what had happened to them. She really didn’t know.

As large cities went, Damenk was relatively safe, and since much of the wealth accumulated there relied on the tourist trade, the local government did as much as possible to maintain that illusion. However, the city had its seamier side, something Kim had seen firsthand.

The death of her family wasn’t the only example. Jatki’s father had sexually abused his daughter for most of her life until the poor girl finally ran away at the age of twelve. Kim had found her huddled in a corner on a dark backstreet, crying her eyes out. The other members of their gang all had similar stories and good reasons for not trusting anyone in authority.

Kim still wasn’t sure Onca could be trusted. For all she knew, he and Roncas were behind the disappearances of the other girls. She doubted it, though. Onca might not mean any of that crap about never fucking her, but he didn’t seem cruel.

Plus, he was Zetithian. Somehow she suspected that fact was more significant than his personality or even his line of work. He had a certain guilelessness about him that made her want to trust him. Glancing around the room once again, she realized this was probably the safest place she had ever been in her life.

Resisting the urge to dive into the bed for a nap, she snatched up the clothes Roncas had brought, donning a pair of slacks and a tunic. Like the shirt Onca had provided, they were made of exotically patterned silk and looked expensive. Unfortunately, the slacks kept sliding off her hips, necessitating the use of her “bra” as a belt again.

She approached the door with no idea how to open it. “Okay, Captain. Let me out.”

“As you wish,” Captain replied. “Although a simple wave of your hand is all that is required.”

“Oh.”