Dark Sky (Keiko) (20 page)

‘A.,’ Jenna said in a relatively level tone, although he could tell she was still somewhat uneasy, ‘this is Kunley. He’s the logicator, and the man who arranged for you to be brought here and … helped.’

Apirana nodded. He wasn’t going to deny that Kunley’s mechanical chest gave him the willies a little, but a man had to breathe and he’d had no bad experiences with the Circuit Cult himself, unlike Jenna. ‘Well, thanks, mate. I owe you.’

‘Actually, you don’t,’ Kunley said, taking a few steps into the infirmary, ‘your friend here saw to that.’

Apirana looked sideways at Jenna. ‘Eh?’

‘Well, the Cir—’ She stopped herself and continued as though she’d said nothing out of turn. ‘The Universal Access Movement don’t tend to provide things for
free
, just cheap. So I had to—’

‘How much?’ He asked, narrowing his eyes and looking towards Kunley.

‘Five hundred stars,’ the logicator replied promptly, ‘which covers anaesthetic, the surgery and the materials. Your ankle has been braced with an advanced polymer which should fuse naturally with your bone, and you’ve been given a healing booster.’ He raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘I expect you will be unusually hungry over the next few days.’

Apirana grunted. Even with the after-effects of the anaesthetic, doing the mental calculation was easy for someone who’d spent most of his life outside prison moving goods, services and sometimes people between currency zones. ‘That’s very reasonable. Cheers, bro.’ He looked back at Jenna. ‘And thank you, as well.’

Jenna shrugged, and possibly blushed a little. ‘Well, I didn’t spend much of my share on New Samara and I had enough on me …’ She smiled. ‘Besides, I certainly can’t carry you.’

‘Ain’t that the truth,’ he muttered. ‘Right, then. Healing booster, you said?’ He sat up with a groan more theatrical than genuine and waited for the world to start swimming. Which it did, but neither as much nor for as long as he’d feared. He leaned forwards a little and knocked gently on the casing enclosing his ankle and heel. ‘Okay, so how long before I can walk on this bad boy?’

‘I would advise waiting at least ten days before you stop using crutches,’ Kunley replied, nodding towards a pair leaning against the wall, before the blank stare of his visor returned to Apirana again. ‘Come to think of it, given your height and build—’

‘Don’t diss the
puku
, bro.’

‘—I would perhaps suggest two weeks,’ Kunley finished, unperturbed. ‘Unless, of course, you wished for a complete replacement? In that case you could be walking normally again after a day.’ The logicator glanced briefly at Jenna, with perhaps the faintest hint of reproach in the set of his mouth. ‘You were injured and distressed and we wished to stabilise your condition fast, so we did not wait to ascertain your wishes and Jenna here was very adamant that you should keep your existing foot.’

‘Yeah, an’ she was right to do so,’ Apirana grunted.

‘If it’s a concern about the cost then we would of course count the fee already paid against any further work—’

‘Mate.’ Apirana held up his hand. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done, seriously, an’ I thank you for it. An’ I know that maybe a fancy new robot foot would see me right, but I’m sorta attached to the bits of me what are already here, know what I mean? If it can be fixed up I’m happy for it to be fixed, an’ I’ll carry on my way.’

Kunley smiled. ‘I understand. I once thought as you did. My first augmentation’ – he momentarily placed one hand on his metal chest – ‘was not a choice, but a necessity. It was only afterwards that I realised the boons further work could give me.’

Apirana smiled a little in return. Circuit Cult equivalent of a priest or not, Kunley had the manner of a born salesman and a voice which was pleasant on the eardrums. Which now he came to think of it, was probably a good set of skills for a priest too. ‘What happened? If you don’t mind me askin’, that is.’

The logicator’s face took on a more sombre aspect. ‘I was working as a freighter crewman. It was not well paid, but I made enough. However, on one shipping trip we were attacked by pirates who announced themselves with a shot that took out our Alcubierre ring, rendering us unable to flee. Our captain was either in thrall to the prospect of the earnings from his cargo or in fear of his employers should he lose it, as he refused the pirates’ demands to launch it in a shuttle for them to collect. So they came aboard and, fearful for our lives, I led the crew in trying to turn them back.’

Apirana winced. A civilian merchantman crew taking on pirates confident enough in their numbers and equipment to risk boarding another vessel was only ever likely to end one way.

‘Three of my crewmates died,’ Kunley said simply. ‘I was shot in the chest three times. When we had surrendered they did not mistreat us further; they simply wanted the cargo as quickly as possible, and before our distress signal brought the authorities down on them. My vessel limped back to the port we had so recently departed from, barely in time for me since our medical facilities were relatively rudimentary.

‘The damage to my lungs was too great; I would never breathe properly again unaided. But the Universal Access Movement were able to offer another option for a merchant crewman with little money put aside.’

‘So you got a new set of lungs?’ Apirana asked. ‘Bloody nice of ’em.’

‘The experience was enough to change me,’ Kunley nodded solemnly. ‘I wished to help the Movement help others as it had helped me, so I devoted myself to it. Fifteen years later, and I have become logicator on this planet far from the African systems where I was born.’

‘Now, I’m not gettin’ at you at all,’ Apirana said, ‘but I’d have thought that New Samara would’ve been the obvious place for a logicator, given that’s the capital planet.’

Kunley smiled. ‘The capital for money and politics, perhaps, but it is on mining and industrial planets where our work is required most urgently. New Samara’s farm workers suffer their accidents, it is true, but there is nothing quite so unforgiving as a mine face … save open warfare, of course. Uragan City was originally only five levels, and it was here on the deepest level at that time that the Movement chose to establish our headquarters, so we could be the nearest to those who needed us. No, this is where I belong.’ He frowned as a chime rang through the air, and looked towards the door. ‘Excuse me; I shall return momentarily. One of my colleagues wishes my attention.’

They watched him go. Then Jenna leaned in close to Apirana again. ‘I’m not sure if I just heard a sales pitch or a sermon.’

‘Bit of both, maybe,’ he grunted, then paused as a nasty thought struck him. ‘You don’t suppose …’

‘Hmm?’

‘You know?’ he said, casting a wary glance at the empty doorway. ‘African freighter crew hit by pirates? You don’t think it could have been the Captain?’

He saw Jenna’s expression change as the possibility dawned on her, but she quickly schooled her features again and lowered her voice. ‘I think there’s been a hell of a lot of FAS shipping, and a whole lot of pirates going after it. Doesn’t mean it was the Captain. More to the point,’ she added, padding to the door and looking through it, ‘we need to work out what we’re going to do now.’

Apirana grimaced. ‘Don’t see how we’ve got a lot of choice. We can’t call anyone, and I’m too big and slow to play dodge-the-bullet with a bunch of trigger-happy cops, even without a buggered ankle.’

Jenna sighed in frustration, drumming her fingers on the door jamb, then turned around and pulled the sleeve of her top back to reveal the wrist console on her left arm. ‘To hell with this. The Spine might still be down, but there’s got to be
some
way to find out what’s going on.’

Apirana felt a twinge of unease in his sizeable gut. ‘I dunno if that’s such a good idea, Jenna; won’t they be specially on guard against slicers if there’s some sort of revolution taking place?’

She fired him a look from under lowered brows. ‘Well, what do you suggest then?’

He swung his legs off the table and eyed the crutches resting against the wall. ‘I reckon we’re best off waiting.’

‘
Waiting?
But we don’t know what’s going on!’

‘Seems like a good time not to go walking out into it, then,’ Apirana said. His right foot was on the floor now, but he wasn’t going to chance standing on the left one and the crutches were out of reach. A quick hop, though …

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ Jenna reappeared in his line of sight, crossing the room from the doorway and passing the crutches to him. ‘What about the others?’

‘If they’ve got any sense, they’ll be lying low,’ Apirana told her firmly, ‘an’ if there’s one thing the Captain and Tamara are good at, it’s staying alive.’ He pushed himself up onto his feet – or foot – and took a couple of practice strides up and down the infirmary. It wasn’t the most graceful he’d ever been, but at least he had enough upper body strength that he shouldn’t get too tired moving around. ‘I just wonder how long—’

Only the faintest of scuffing noises announced Kunley’s bare feet on the floor a moment before the man himself reappeared in the doorway, his face creased in concern. ‘The situation is grave. The resistance we witnessed in the plaza has escalated, and it appears that a general uprising of the populace is taking place. People are in the streets and there are no
politsiya
to enforce the curfew; the rebels are claiming this area as theirs and say they have destroyed armoured vehicles sent in to put the riot down.’

Apirana looked at Jenna uncertainly. On the one hand, freedom to move around the streets was welcome. On the other, when the authorities came back with more force – and he was damn sure they would – he didn’t want to be anywhere on the receiving end of it. He looked back at Kunley, and grimaced when he saw the other man’s expression. ‘You got a twist to your lip I don’t like the look of, bro. That’s the bad news, so what’s the worse?’

‘The rebel group appears to have started door-to-door searches,’ Kunley replied, looking straight at him. ‘We don’t know who or what they’re looking for … but they’re moving in this direction.’

DRIFT WASN’T TOO
worried by the hammering on the doors, unwelcome though it was: it would be a poor riot vehicle that could be easily opened from outside, after all. However, his assessment of the situation changed a moment later when a loud hissing became audible and a spark of white light appeared around the central lock.

Laser torch.

It was depressing, really, the amount of industrial items that could be turned to malicious use by a determined mob.

He hammered at the chest-mounted release button on his straps, but his bodyweight was holding them at their full extent and there wasn’t the fraction of give they needed to release. He momentarily considered pleading innocence in the faces of the rioters – or more accurately, guilt – but there was little chance of passing himself off as a prisoner without at least sporting a pair of handcuffs. Besides which, Free Systems rebels were unlikely to be emptying penitentiaries or freeing suspects unless those individuals were affiliated to them. They weren’t trying to overturn society, just change government.

Also, he
had
opened fire on some of their allies not half an hour previously.

He couldn’t remain strapped helplessly to what was now essentially the ceiling, especially as the centre of the vehicle’s door was turning an alarming cherry red. Gritting his teeth, he reached up as high as he could and just managed to hook the fingers of his right hand into the wire of the equipment rack, then got some sort of leverage on what had previously been the floor with the heel of his boots and tried to ease his weight up off the strap buckle. He strained, pressed with his left hand …

Click.

Of course, this suddenly presented a new problem.

‘Shit!’ he bellowed in alarm as his momentary traction fled and gravity reasserted itself. His arms were still hooked into the straps, which he stupidly hadn’t been prepared for, and instead of a clean, free-fall drop or hanging athletically for a second before smoothly disengaging, he instead only managed a descent combining the worst parts of both, and landed in a crumpled heap. On the other hand, that still put him considerably better off than Muradov and his riot squad: not one member had managed to regain their feet in the handful of seconds since the crash, nor were they looking likely to in the next few. In fact, several were giving voice to moans or fast, spittle-flecked breathing which Drift would usually associate with the stabbing pains that might accompany broken bones.

Sometimes a noise could be ominous, at other times it was the cessation of one which was most concerning. Such was the case now, when the hissing, spitting song of the laser torch abruptly died away. Either it had run out of charge, which seemed far too fortuitous to be possible, or …

One of the rear doors, now running horizontally, was levered outwards and crashed down to form what was effectively a shallow ramp, revealing a worryingly large crowd of legs and feet and letting in a triumphant roar from their accompanying lungs and throats. There was no time to think: Drift grabbed a rifle from the weapon rack that now formed part of the floor, slapped in a magazine and flicked off the safety with his thumb, then dropped into a crouch to get a better angle of fire, braced it against his shoulder and pulled the trigger.