Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [123]
Rast dragged off her hood. Her short white hair was plastered to her skull and her pale skin was stained crimson with heat and dirt. ‘It didn’t break down. Someone interfered with it.’
Mira stared at her in shock. ‘Who would do that?’
‘Who would beat up one of their planet’s last remaining royals and try to feed her to some gizzard-hungry ginko?’ Rast shrugged. ‘A loco.’
‘But why?’
‘Lucre, mebbe.’
‘What did you do? I saw you drive past. . .’
‘Same as everyone else—we got out. Only made it this far, though. Damn AiV dropped a middle rotor. If I was of a paranoid nature, I’d say someone fixed it to happen, seeing as it was my AiV.’
Innis. She was talking about Innis.
‘I know what you’re thinking but don’t waste your time. It could have been him but it could have been anyone. I don’t make many friends—I make memoirs.’
Mira thought of the man, Brusce, that Rast had killed outright. Rast was right. Mira reached out to disengage the autopilot and heard a tiny whirr. A muzzle pressed against the soft part of her neck.
‘Before you touch that, tell me where you are going.’
Mira saw no reason to lie but she also saw no reason to tell Rast everything. ‘I’m going to Pell. The Fleet’s been destroyed but one ship is hidden. I will take it to OLOSS to plead for sentientarian help.’
‘You’re telling me there’s a way off this dry rock?’
Mira nodded carefully.
Rast gave a short, joyous laugh and eased the rifle back onto her lap. ‘Baronessa, it was a fine day, the day we met.’
Mira couldn’t suppress a shudder as she took back manual control of the AiV. She did not, in any way at all, share Rast’s sentiment.
They passed no air traffic the rest of the way to Pell, only TerVs carrying Saqr.
‘Beats me how Jancz got so many of them in here without anyone noticing,’ said Rast.
Mira swallowed nervously. ‘Jancz?’
‘The ‘esque who joined the Saqr at Ipo. He’s IH, like us. He was my capo in the Stain Wars. Afterwards he went chasing pots of gold in Latino Crux. I didn’t like the fight. I choose my battles but Jancz’s only god is his pocket,’ she said.
‘What did he do there?’
Rast shrugged. ‘Latino Crux was about clan wars, wasn’t it? One of your kind wanting to be dominant. I guess Jancz just fought for whoever paid him the most.’
‘But why would he bring Saqr here?’
Rast shrugged again. ‘The only thing you can be sure of is that someone’s paying him to wipe you Cips out.’
Mira’s guilt throbbed harder than the pain in her arm. How could she have been so naive, so indifferent? If she had alerted the Carabinere would the invasion have been thwarted?
Rast fell into a doze, her head lolling.
In the back of the AiV Catchut attempted to patch up Latourn’s wounds. Mira caught snatches of his monologue over the thrum of the rotors. Despite having lost most of their team, Catchut was animated by the conflict. How could anyone relish such terror?
Suddenly Mira yearned for the Studium palazzo and the cool comfort of her room. She yearned to see Faja and drink wine with her. Things that she could never have again.
Those longings intermingled with something else that had begun to burn deep inside her. With the cold, logical part of her brain she understood why Trin had done what he had. But her being—her self—was outraged and sickened. Mira knew that she was carrying Trin Pellegrini’s ‘bino. And that, one day, she would dance on his regret.
* * * *
JO-JO RASTEROVICH
Jo-Jo was having trouble putting the whole Hera death-contract thing behind him.
Even though the fop Tekton had stamped the agreement and Jo-Jo had duly disposed of the contract shell, he couldn’t let go of the edginess. He vac’ed the remains just to be sure and then got so drunk that his Health Watch rook evasive maneouvres and brought him back from near-coma.
The edginess was his reward for still being alive. And the thing eating at him was the hunger for revenge. Payback. Vengeance. Retribution. Call it what you like. Jo-Jo was itching to kick fop arse.
He recognised, despite having a giant hangover, that he had to