Equinox (19 page)

“A planetload of money and power,” Dalton finished.

“Exactly,” Rosie said. “And it gets more complicated.” She told him about how the immunity was in Pip’s blood, and how he’d saved her family and her with it on Mars, and about the message she’d got and the vision from the hospital.

“That explains why the Senate was after you,” he said. “You know you could have told me before.” He waved his hand as she opened her mouth to explain. “It doesn’t matter. But still–” He leaned forwards. “If he’s immune, don’t you think he should try to do something with it?”

Rosie bit her lip. “He is. He’s been trying to find a way to make a vaccine up in Gondwana, but it’s not working yet.” She looked at her hands, remembering how angry Pip had been when he’d told her that – and how she’d accused him of not caring. “Anyway,” she said, “he has to do it that way. Helios has moles in the Senate and if he goes to them, Helios will just take him and–” She stopped, unable to voice what she knew they might do to Pip if they could. “I mean, do you know anyone who has the kind of tech to make a vaccine? Who also might give it to the people who really need it the most and not use it as a way to control everyone?”

Dalton didn’t answer.

“God,” she said softly. “I’m so sick of them. Helios and all their crap. I keep fighting but they just keep coming back.”

Dalton took her hand. “Yeah, but you’re not doing it alone. I’m with you all the way, Pilot Girl.” He smiled and brushed his thumb over hers.

She felt an unexpected spark of warmth. “I, ah–” she stuttered, then saw Pip come in the door. Her heart leaped and she snatched her hand away.

Dalton followed her gaze. His hand drew slowly back and he looked back at her with a question in his eyes she didn’t know how to answer.

Rosie put both her hands in her lap. “You get it?” she said as Pip sat down.

“Yep.” He handed the com to Dalton. “Do your thing. Dock 43.”

Dalton took it as if nothing was going on and held it under the table so he could dial up his boat without being seen.

“Something wrong?” Pip looked at Rosie.

“Only the obvious,” she said.

“We were talking about the MalX,” Dalton said quietly. “And the cure.”

Pip turned to Rosie with barely concealed anger. “He knows?”

Rosie wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Pip–”

“It’s not her fault,” Dalton said quickly. “I asked – well, guessed. You can’t blame her. And I would have found out eventually, what with where we’re going. Besides, what’s the problem? It’s a good thing you’re trying to find a way to use that cure, right?”

Dalton’s voice was calm, but it didn’t do much to blunt Pip’s anger.

“Maybe it’s my business,” Pip said.

“I would have thought a cure for the MalX was everyone’s business, but then that’s just my opinion,” said Dalton

“Maybe you can keep it to yourself.”

Rosie cut in before they went any further. “Why don’t you both keep things to yourself? You’re giving me a headache.” That shut them up.

The boat arrived eight minutes later, just as the waitress was starting to look daggers at Rosie. They left the eatery and weaved their way down the street, keeping close together and trying to blend with the crowd. Dock 43 was one of the busiest jetties and Dalton’s sleek white boat was idling at the end of a line of dingy vessels.

They crowded into the cabin, Dalton going straight to the controls. Rosie hadn’t taken in what the boat looked like before, but now she saw the cabin was a spacious curved capsule with a bank of white upholstered couches on either side. To the right of the controls a narrow passageway led below to what she assumed must be sleeping quarters and hopefully a bathroom. A teardrop-shaped table was bolted to the floor in front of one set of couches and a cool unit and bar was built into the opposite wall, near the door.

She sank down on one of the couches as Dalton drove away from the dock. Pip remained standing, watching their progress through the pilot window over Dalton’s shoulder.

Despite its size, the cabin felt crowded with the two boys and they were all quiet, tension filling the space between them. It was nearly two pm according to the clock among the sleek displays in the plas screen of the pilot window. The East Side docks were forty kilometres east of the North Coast Bridge. It wouldn’t take them long to get there, so they would have to anchor somewhere until nine.

“Where are we going to stop?” Rosie asked.

“There’s a bay.” Dalton peered at the river nav system. “It’s just up from the docks. I don’t think anyone will bother us. And if they do, we’ll just pretend we’re partying. Senate river patrol won’t care.”

Of course. Central party kids weren’t exactly high on their target lists.

“Is there a bathroom?” she said.

“Below deck, door at the end.”

Rosie glanced at Pip as she went past him. He had on his indecipherable face and said nothing.

Down the stairs was a short corridor and three doors, one on either side and the third at the end. The door on her right was open and Rosie saw a wide double bed with super soft pillows. She was so tired and the urge to go in and curl up on it was strong, but her bladder had other ideas. She went into the bathroom and locked the door. It was narrow, with plush towels and a mirror on the back of the door. It smelled like green apples. Rosie used the toilet then washed her face with recyc. The steady thrum of the boat engines was louder below deck, a comforting hum. She could hear the faint swish of water against the hull and the boys talking above. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. At least they didn’t sound aggressive.

She pulled a thread of stimulant from her bra. It was going to be a long night and she was so tired already. Tired and confused. Would two stims in one day be okay? She ran it through her fingers. To hell with it. It wasn’t like she was going to sleep, and the stim had helped the headaches earlier.

It tasted like nothing much, just sweet, and it dissolved fast. She felt lighter. Her headache faded and energy flooded back into her limbs. Enjoying the mild buzz, Rosie brushed her hair and tied it back in a ponytail. When she looked in the mirror, she appeared more alive in a slightly off way: cheeks faintly flushed, eyes brighter, lips redder, but that would wear off quickly.

She went back upstairs. The boys had found some food and drinks while she was gone. They were sitting on opposite sides of the cabin with a plate of soy subs between them. Both had plascans of drink in their hands.

“Want one?” Dalton said as she came up. At her nod, he flipped open the cool unit next to him and tossed her a can. Rosie hesitated, not sure where to sit, but then decided on the couch near Pip because it was closest to the food.

She picked up a sub and they all ate in silence. The sub was good, the soy creamy, pickles salty sweet. A low beeping sounded from the controls and Dalton leaped up, jamming the end of a sub in his mouth and going over to it.

“Almost at the inlet,” he said around the food.

Rosie kept eating, but she could feel Pip’s eyes on her. It was annoying.

“What?” She looked at him over her can.

He was sitting back against the cushions, one leg hooked up on the seat between them. His eyes half-closed, like a dozing cat.

“What are you on?” he said quietly.

For a second Rosie froze. Then she lowered the can, wiped her mouth and picked up another sub. “I’m on the couch. You know, furniture.”

“Cute.” The cushions squeaked as he lowered his leg and shifted closer, leaning in so Dalton couldn’t hear. “You look different.”

“I washed my face. You should try it.” Rosie went to bite into the sub but he snatched it out of her hand. “Give that back.” She reached for it but he held it out of her reach.

“Not until you quit lying. I know what a stimulant hit looks like. It’s in the eyes.” He grabbed her chin with his free hand, pulling her face closer. “How much did you take?”

Rosie reared back out of his grasp. “Stop it!” she hissed, praying Dalton wouldn’t turn around. “It’s none of your business.”

His gaze was intense. “What really happened on the river?” he whispered. “That gun – it’s a Helios issue weapon. How did you get it?”

Rosie couldn’t respond. All the saliva had suddenly dried from her mouth and her heart was racing so fast it felt like it might explode from her chest. It was enough to confirm what he thought. A range of emotion crossed Pip’s face: anger, frustration, torment.

“Christ, Rosie. The grunt?” He was staring at her neck. “Is that where the marks came from?” He tried to brush back her hair, but she jerked away.

“It doesn’t matter – leave it,” she whispered, and his eyes widened with understanding.

“I
knew
you’d left stuff out.” He rocked forwards, his knees touching hers, his whisper harsh with emotion. “I should have been there. I was there, earlier that day. Christ, Rosie, I’m sorry. Is he dead, the grunt, is he–” He tried to take her hands, but something, some fear, was working its way up her throat.

“Shut up,” she whispered. “Just shut up.” She stood up, bashing her shin against the table.

“Wait.” He reached for her, but she pushed him away and fled back down the stairs and into the bedroom. Heart pounding, she slammed the door and locked it, then stood with her back against it. She was shaking, sweat covering her forehead.

A minute later there was a soft knock on the door.

“Rosie, are you okay?” It was Dalton.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she collapsed on the bed, curled up and stayed there hugging a pillow and staring at the wall.

The afternoon light faded to dusk, then full dark. Soft lights came on over the bed but Rosie didn’t move. Neither of the boys came down again, but she could still hear them, their voices low. Were they talking about her? Possibly. She didn’t care. The sub sat heavy in her stomach and there was an ache behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the implant.

What was she doing here? Everything that had happened since that day at Greenview circled through her brain. Riley, the implant, the grunt on the riverbank, Pip, Dalton. It was all too much. She had to get some focus.

She forced herself to sit up.
Pull it together, Black
. Riley had chosen to put the implant in her, out of everyone, because he trusted her. He believed she could figure it out, so this was no time to fall apart. She put her hands on her cheeks and tried to slow her pulse. She had to get to Gondwana, find Riley, if he was there. If not, then it was up to her to find out what was going on at that base and do something about it – then try to figure out with Pip what to do about the MalX cure in his veins. And none of that could happen by hiding down here. No matter how much she wanted to. She pushed back her hair, took a long breath then got up and unlocked the door.

Dalton was still at the controls and Pip was on the couch. He got slowly to his feet as she came up the steps and her heart did a little flip at the look in his eye.

“What’s the time?” she asked Dalton.

“Close to eight thirty.” He glanced at her. “I was going to send down the search party, but Pip said you’d probably kill the messenger. You all right?”

“Better.” She stood behind his shoulder peering through the pilot window. They were approaching the East Side docks. It was brightly lit and crowded with supply carriers for the mega marts. Behind the jetties was a line of warehouses teeming with workers and robotic transports moving crates of goods, and beyond that was the station stop for the bullet.

“So what’s our plan?” she said. “Get on the train and ride it to the last stop on the line?”

“Pretty much,” Dalton said.

“Capricornia.” Pip moved to stand beside her. “Nice town if you don’t mind the rampant muggings and murder. Once we’re there I’ll find a secure link and get my contacts to shoot us through Nation controls.” He cast her a concerned, searching look, but Rosie quickly turned away.

“It’s busy,” she said.

“Prime delivery time for shuttles from the farms,” Pip said. He was still staring at her. It made her even more nervous.

She exhaled and said to him under her breath, “I’m fine, stop it.”

“Stop what?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. Rosie shook her head and turned away, but not before she saw his slight smile.

“Keep an eye out for a docking spot,” Dalton said as he guided the boat towards the long fingers of jetties.

“How about the other side of that Amart carrier?” Pip pointed ahead.

“That’ll do.” Dalton drove the boat down a narrow passage between larger boats to the dock.

“How do we check if there’s a Senate official at the bullet station?” Rosie said.

“There’s always one there,” Pip answered.

A message blinked on the bridge com screen. “Vessel identification requested.” A robotic female voice chimed through the cabin. Dalton tapped a series of numbers in and they all waited tensely as it was processed.

“Identification approved,” the voice said. “Docking time forty-five minutes. Please collect your cargo safely.”

“I’ll set the AI to take the boat back.” Dalton looked at Pip. “Got the supplies?”

Pip picked up a small bag and Rosie reached for it. “I’ll carry it, in case you have to use the gun.” He handed it over.

Dalton switched off the engine and opened the door to the deck and they all peered out. They were at the end of a line of identical floating jetties that stretched out like pine needles on a branch from a main dock. Their jetty was empty and lit intermittently by overhead lights which threw shadows along each side. A long line of boats was tethered opposite. It was far from quiet. Men and women shouted to each other over the grind of the machinery bringing in crates of goods.

“Come on.” Rosie led the way. They ran at a slight crouch towards the end, keeping to the shadows. Rosie paused next to a cruiser, the boys behind her. The main dock was wide enough for the robotic movers to trawl up and down loading the boats. They looked like four-armed metal spiders on wheels, the long loading arms lifting crates from the trailers up to where men waited on the carriers. The movers crawled up and down the main dock to the yards and bullet station. A high fence separated the dockyards from the station, and there appeared to be only one way in and out – past six heavily armed guards.