Sound (26 page)

We're almost there. Twelve meters . . . nine . . . seven . . . five . . . Without warning, the air hose whips out of my mouth and retracts up into the shuttle, Cassia's flying after it. Cassia jerks and flails, and it is all I can do to hold on to her while my lungs tighten around the last thin breath I took from the tube. Black spots spackle my vision. We're lost. They've given us up for lost. I look down. The creatures rise below us, sharp-beaked mouths snapping as they climb on one another's backs.

Keep moving.
My mother's voice reaches out of the
darkness to me. We are on the seaward side of the Gyre in a netted area cordoned off from passing sharks and flesh-eating squid.
One arm over the other.
She is in the water with me, only a few strokes away, but it feels so far.
I know you're tired, but you're almost to me,
ma chère
. Keep swimming.

Light opens above me, and the sucking sound of the air lock. Cassia has stopped struggling. I wrap one hand around her wrist and thrust the other up into the vortex. Dry, rough fingers close around mine and haul both of us up and into the shuttle.

Chapter 26

W
hen we return to the dock, the shuttle that took Rubio and Nethanel is nowhere to be seen. We're back early, and Lisbeth sports a newly split lip because of it.

“Aho.”
Our guard spits into the drainage grates and glares at us. “You can all thank this useless
fitta
here for a longer dive tomorrow.”

Lisbeth doesn't look up. She leans heavily on Aneley, clutching her shoulder with her good hand. Her makeshift bandage is soaked through, and her face has a gray pallor. She's lost a lot of blood.

The guards march us past the
Mendicant
. Cassia sinks her nails into my arm.

“What?” I whisper.

She nods at the
Mendicant
. Two men descend the loading ramp, deep in conversation. One of them leans
against the door's pneumatic risers and points back into the ship's belly.

“Hurry up.” Our guard shoves me from behind with his prod. “You want to go back in the water? You want me to throw you back to the
rovdjur
crabs?”

The electric shock sends a wave of cold fire through my body. I round on him, scowling, my hands clenched into fists.

“Whoa-ho!” He laughs. “Still feisty, are we,
lillflicka
?” He pulls a knife from his belt and slashes me across the cheekbone in one fluid movement.

My eyes water, and blood dribbles down my chin, but it's the shock and humiliation of it that stings the worst. I am a child again, hiding in the storage closet, choking on shame and rage.

“Up for some more fun?” He grins at me as if he hopes I'll say yes.

I wipe blood from my face and dart a look at the
Mendicant
. It's so close, mere meters away. But the shuttle carrying Nethanel and Rubio is nowhere in sight. I grit my teeth. Our freedom is a stone's throw away and a million light years at the same time.

“Come on, Mi.” Cassia pulls me back into the line.

“Another time, then!” he calls after me, sliding the knife back into his belt. “I have my eye on you.”

I walk with my head down, shaking, all the way back to the cell.

We wait in the darkness for the others to return. Lisbeth sleeps on one of the benches while Cassia, Aneley, and I huddle in a circle on the other side of the room, trying to stay warm. Cassia presses up next to me, shivering. I hesitate for a moment, and then lift my arm around her. At least I have the benefit of my pressure suit, even if my hair is damp. Everyone else is soaked through.

“How long until she's better?” Cassia whispers.

“I don't know.” I touch my cheek gingerly. My own cut was shallow. It's already begun to crust over, but if I don't treat it, I'll have another scar for my collection. “She'll be weak for a day or two from the blood loss, but a wound that deep is going to take weeks to heal fully. If it doesn't get infected.”

I look toward the open sewer drain. I can't make it out in the dark, but the smell is impossible to ignore. It will be a miracle if we manage to keep Lisbeth's cut clean.

Chaila.
We have to get her out of here. All of us have to get out of here.

Aneley shifts in the darkness. “She won't be able to manage the security controls fast enough with only one
hand.” She keeps her voice low. It's what we've all been thinking, but Lisbeth doesn't need to hear it.

“I could do it,” Aneley says.

“Aneley, no!” I say at the same moment Cassia utters a wordless cry. That's a death sentence. Or worse.

“Shhh.” Aneley hushes us. “You'll wake her.”

“But your baby . . . ,” I whisper.

“My baby's good as dead already.” Aneley's voice is thick. “I'm not going to let it grow up here.”

“So it won't,” Cassia says. “It can grow up out there.” I can't see, but she must be gesturing at the far-off sky.

“Even then . . . who else would do it?” Aneley sounds tired.

Silence falls over us. A drop of water pats against the floor somewhere in the darkness. I know what I should say. I know what my mother would say if she were here. But I'm not my mother, and I can't make myself form the words. I want to get out of here. I want to stay alive.

“I will,” Cassia says into the stillness.

“Cass . . .”

“No.” Her voice wavers, but she pulls it under control. “Think about it. You, Rubio, and Nethanel are the only ones who can fly a ship, so we can't risk any of you. Lisbeth's hurt. Aneley's pregnant. Pulga's too young. I came out here
to make sure Milah gets her father back, and that's what I'm going to do.”

I feel as though the gravity has been yanked out from under me.

“You know that's not what Nethanel would want.”

“That's why you're not going to tell him.” A hard edge creeps into Cassia's tone. “Either of you.”

I want to scream and cry and throw up all at the same time. How can Cassia do this? If she dies or, worse, stays trapped here . . . I can't think about it. Doesn't she know her life is worth as much as Nethanel's? Doesn't she know there's no trade, no finite price? That everyone loses if either of them is left here to die?

“Promise,” Cassia says.

A thump sounds in the hallway. The door lock shrieks. We scatter and scuttle against the walls. Lisbeth raises her head and blinks into the sudden stab of light from the hallway.

Nethanel, Rubio, and the others from the second shuttle file in, damp and shivering. Cassia runs to Nethanel and throws her arms around him, followed close by Aneley.

He signs something quick before the door slams, taking the light with it.

I sink down against the wall. It doesn't do me any credit to admit it, but I'm glad Cassia argued against me being
the one to stay behind. No one wants to be raped, beaten, killed—whatever is in store for those of us who don't make it onto the
Mendicant
and out of this spindle—and I'm no different. I'm not brave. I'm no hero. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and try not to imagine those things happening to Cassia. What Rubio said about Ava and Soraya on the flight to Kazan Spindle bobs up in my mind.
Don't you think they need you to come back as much as Cassia and Milah need Nethanel? Don't you think they care just as much
? I think I see what he means now. My life or Cassia's, neither one gains more meaning if we give it up. A life—any life, every life—has value all on its own. We can't give up Cassia. I won't give up myself, not without a fight. There has to be another way.

The ship.
The memory of those two men standing on the loading ramp flares up before me. Were they doing something to it? Fitting it with a tracking device or disabling it? If Rött believed me about the DSRI after all, if he thinks the ship could be used to trace us in any way, he'll want to dispose of it as soon as possible. Chop it up or sink the whole thing to the bottom of the ocean.

I stand. “Aneley?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any other way out of here that isn't monitored? Up to the dock, I mean?”

“It's solid all the way around.” She bangs her fist against the nearest wall. “If there was a way, we'd have tried it already. Why? What do you have in mind?”

“Clínico,”
Aneley's father mutters, somewhere behind her.

“Did you see Rött's men near our ship?” I say. “They had the loading ramp open. We don't want to escape and then find it's disabled or—”

“Clínico!”
Aneley's father says louder.
“Clínico! Clínico! Clínico!”

“All right,
Papá.” Aneley turns to him.
“Què es eso del clínico? Què quieres decir?”

“Hay un conducto de aire en el techo del clínico.”
The old man's voice shakes with urgency.
“Lo he visto. Lo he visto.”

Aneley's eyes widen. “He says there's an air duct in the clinic. It might connect to the dock.”

“I have to get up there and check the ship,” I say.

“How?” Aneley says. “They only ever take us up that high to clean.”

But even as the words are leaving her mouth, it comes to me. I turn to where Lisbeth lies in the darkness. If I can convince our captors she's worth saving, maybe I can save the rest of us, too.

We have been banging on the door for what feels like hours before the guards come.

One of them cracks open the door. “
Dou itta!
What in hell is all this racket?”

“Please.” I do my best meek face and let all the fear building up in me flood my voice. “Lisbeth, she's worse. You have to do something for her.”

He rolls his eyes, and I vow never to roll mine again. “No one's calling in a doctor. If she wanted to keep the hand, she shouldn't have been so careless.” He shoves me back and starts to pull the door closed.

“Wait.” I grab the door. “I'm a medic. I can take care of it myself, if you let me.”

He pauses, considering.

“She's a good worker, isn't she?” I say. “Isn't she worth something to you?”

He raises an eyebrow and grunts. “Wait here.”

The door slams. I pace, counting out the minutes.
Two, five, seven . . .
The lock slides back again, and Rött stands in the doorway, Juna and another guard a few paces behind him.

“A medic?” he says.

I nod.

“Come with me.” He turns.

“But what about—”

“I said,
Come with me
.” I cast a helpless look at Lisbeth, and then hurry after him.

I try to memorize the twists and turns we take through the spindle. Up two levels by lift. A long hallway. Left turn. Short hallway. Right turn and then left again. We stop in front of a scuffed gray door. One of the guards punches a key code into the lock, and it slides open, revealing a jumble of boxes and vials on plain metal shelves and an exam table covered in cracked vinyl. The clinic? I glance around. There it is—a metal grate in the top left corner of the room.

Rött boosts himself up on the table, pulls his shirt over his head, and twists around. A huge, pus-filled cyst bubbles up on his back, purpling and swollen.

“You take care of this, you get some bandages for your careless friend,” Rött says.

I glance at Juna. This could go wrong any number of ways. “I'll need some gloves.”

She waves a hand at the chaos on the shelves. “Bound to be some in there.”

I step around Rött and pick through the boxes. I find one latex glove, and then another. They're made for different-sized hands, but they'll have to do. There's no
sink, so I scrub down my forearms with an ancient bottle of Betadine and snap on the gloves. I approach Rött's back.

“I'm going to touch it, okay?” Calm and confident. Like a doctor. No one wants to kill a doctor.

Rött grunts in agreement.

I press lightly against the lump, feeling its contours beneath the skin. “Does that hurt?”

“Of course it hurts,” Rött snaps. “Dumb
fitta
.”

I step back. “It looks like it's only a sebaceous cyst, but it's gotten infected. We'll have to excise it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Juna asks.

“I have to cut it open and drain it.” I meet Rött's eye. “It's going to hurt, but afterward, it'll be a lot better.”

“I got no problem with pain,” Rött says. “Just get it out of me.”

I nod. “Okay. I need some gauze, a scalpel, and a roll of skinknit.”

The guards exchange looks. Juna lets out a humorless laugh. “A scalpel, huh? How stupid do you think we are?”

“Give it to her,” Rött says through gritted teeth. He eyes me. “She knows what'll happen if she tries anything smart.”

I nod. They find what I asked for, and I lay it out neatly on the exam table beside the Betadine. I wipe down Rött's
back, then make a small X-shaped incision at the crown of the cyst. Blood and pus dribble out, along with a rank smell.

The male guard gags, and Rött glares at him.

“This is the part that's going to hurt,” I say. I push against the base of the lump, and an oily, yellow-white curl of pus spouts from the incision. I wipe it away and bear down again.

“Jävlar!”
Rött swallows a groan.

I press my lips together.
Good. I hope it hurts.

I keep pushing until the pus turns pink with blood, and then runs red. I clean his back again, pack the wound, and tear off a strip of skinknit to cover the incision. When no one is looking, I pocket the rest of the roll.

Rött rolls his shoulder experimentally and pulls his shirt back on. “Good.”

“You've got to keep it clean,” I say. I try not to look at the duct. “It could come back, even if you're careful.”

Rött scowls. “I'm not doing that again.”

I pull off the gloves. “There's a steroid injection I could give you if it starts to come back, but . . .” I gesture at the mess on the shelves.
Who knows what's in here?

“You'll clean it up, then. Find what you need.” Rött slides off the table and works his shoulder again. “Juna, find her something to eat.”

Juna raises her eyebrows.

“You heard me.” Rött looks me over approvingly. “It's not often you catch something with an actual skill.”

Juna glares at me but nods and leaves the room.

I swallow. “What about Lisbeth? I need to get back to her.”

Rött snorts. “If you care so much, you can look in on her when you're done here.”

He waves to the other guards, who file out after him, leaving me alone with a jumble of medical supplies, a wad of dirty gauze, and my passage to the
Mendicant
.

The air duct is barely wide enough for my shoulders, but I inch forward all the same. I had to wait for Juna to come back with a slice of dry white bread and an unidentifiable piece of smoked fish before I could risk the climb. I didn't want her to watch me eat, but she wouldn't leave unless I finished it, and besides, my stomach wouldn't stop groaning at me.