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'You were subsequently tried for war crimes,' Bourdain added. 'That's one h.e.l.l of a thing to have in your resume.'
'Wait a minute.' Surprise gave way to renewed anger. 'What does any of this have to do with me being here?'
Bourdain leaned forward. 'I want you to realize there's nothing you can tell me that I don't already know. All I'm asking now is that you tell the truth. Did you ever try to find out what was in the cargo hold of your s.h.i.+p?'
'No, of course I didn't. I-'
Moss grabbed her head in two vice-like hands. She struggled desperately, but he was deceptively strong.
Then her sense of survival kicked in, and she let herself suddenly relax. As she felt Moss's hold on her ease marginally, she thrust herself away from him and towards Bourdain.
Two strong arms yanked her back down into her seat, and held her there. Moss's fingers dug hard into her flesh, Dakota screaming as overwhelming pain ran through her entire body.
She glanced down at Moss's hands where they held her, and she saw he was now wearing insulated gloves coated in fine metal mesh.
Lightning gloves.
Dakota tasted blood and realized she'd bitten her tongue. Bourdain continued looking at her as if nothing had happened. Somewhere behind him a concealed door slid quietly open and two ambulatory nightmares stepped into the room: bead-zombies.
The door closed silently behind them, and they stood behind Bourdain, awaiting orders.
Bourdain was speaking again. 'Port Gabriel was, what, almost a decade ago? Now look at you. Sc.r.a.ping a living in a stripped-down cargo s.h.i.+p that can barely haul itself from one lump of s.p.a.ce-borne slag to another. And then this unfortunate business with the Bandati on Corkscrew?' Bourdain shook his head, and looked almost sympathetic. 'I heard a little rumour you took something from them, and didn't tell me. Now, what kind of way to do business is that?'
Quill.
How else could Bourdain have found out so much about her?
The first thing she was going to do, if she ever got out of this, was find Quill-and kill him.
'f.u.c.k you,' she swore weakly 'I don't respond too well to torture, so f.u.c.k you. Just tell me what you want and let me go.'
'Not the answer I was looking for.' Bourdain turned to the two bead-zombies, each of which came around opposite ends of the desk to stand on either side of Dakota. One male, one female, both tawny-skinned. Dakota wondered who they'd been when they were still alive, and why Bourdain had them killed.
Their heads had been surgically removed, and then cloned skin grown over the neck wound. Tiny low-level control beads implanted into the top of each of their truncated spinal cords allowed the bodies to respond to external orders, as well as controlling the basic functioning of the body and acting as a guidance system hooked into the local computer networks. Their bodies had been steroid-pumped, the skin s.h.i.+ning and glossy. Each was dressed in a complex arrangement of fetis.h.i.+stic leather straps wrapped over their shoulders and under and around their groins, barely concealing the naked flesh underneath.
Bourdain nodded to Moss. Dakota gritted her teeth and heard herself scream when a high voltage current ripped through her once more.
Once it pa.s.sed-surely the jolt had lasted only a second or two, but it was starting to feel like she'd been in Bourdain's office for a couple of hours-the power of speech took a moment to return to her.
'I don't know know what's in the cargo hold,' Dakota croaked, with such an overwhelming sincerity in her voice it surprised even her. what's in the cargo hold,' Dakota croaked, with such an overwhelming sincerity in her voice it surprised even her.
Bourdain stood up and went to kneel next to Dakota's chair, laying one hand on her thigh in an almost paternal gesture.
'Let's get it straight exactly how much s.h.i.+t you're in right now, Dakota.' His hand slid up closer to her crotch and she tried to jerk away, but it was impossible with Moss holding her so tightly. 'If you're legitimate, you walk away. That's the truth. If I'm anything, I'm fair. But if you're lying'-he looked up, nodding at each of the headless monstrosities on either side of them-'this is what Hugh's going to do to you, too. That right, Hugh?'
A breathy sound from behind her, like air escaping from a flatulent corpse. It was too easy to picture those greasy yellow teeth bared expectantly.
'So I think you'll agree, Dakota, that doing what I want you to is really going to be in your best interests.' He stood and looked down at her with what appeared to be real sorrow. 'I hate this kind of situation because it's so distasteful, you know? But that's business.'
'I haven't done anything!' she screamed. 'And, besides, the cargo is still in my s.h.i.+p, Bourdain. You can't get hold of it without my say-so, you understand me? If you go near it-'
Bourdain shook his head sadly, cutting her off. 'I own you, Miss Merrick, same as I own Quill. We know that someone or something probed your s.h.i.+p, and also probed the control systems for the cargo. Maybe you knew about it, maybe you didn't. If you didn't, I'm sorry, but I just can't afford to take any chances. Hugh, let her speak to her s.h.i.+p for a second, then . . .' He waved a hand towards her. 'Then find out what you can. Just make sure you clean the place up before I get back.'
Moss nodded as Bourdain walked out of the room, before leaning down to whisper in her ear.
'My dear Dakota, it's so good to be alone together at last. I can't tell you how much I'm going to enjoy you, after I remove your head.'
Panic-stricken relief swept through her. She probably only had a few moments before Moss managed to close the connection again. I need you to get me out of here. I am obliged to refuse you command as of seventy-five seconds ago.> What? Override that, Piri. What 'appropriate personnel'? 'You and I are now going to have a long talk, Miss Merrick.' He deliberately drawled the word long. long. Emergency systems override, Piri. Remember me to one who lives there, she continued. she continued. Somewhere inside the Piri, Piri, carefully hidden higher-level systems were coming alive as Dakota spoke her own secret code phrases. carefully hidden higher-level systems were coming alive as Dakota spoke her own secret code phrases. 'Your connection's cut,' he said. 'Now it's just you and me.' Create a distraction, Piri. Anything. One of Moss's fingers stroked her ear, and she winced at the stench of his breath. Then he suddenly stood bolt upright, but kept one hand resting on her shoulder. 'Sir?' Dakota twisted around further and saw Moss seemed to be talking to the air, one finger to an earlobe. She guessed he was speaking to Bourdain. 'I just received an automatic alert, sir. Comms report receiving warning of a terrorist threat through a secure police channel.' Moss nodded to the empty air. Dakota could almost hear the sound of her heart trying to bludgeon its way through her ribcage, her hands gripping the chair. 'It's a secure channel routed through the Consortium Outer System Patrol offices,' Moss continued, for the benefit of his invisible employer. 'They're claiming an unmanned helium dredge has been programmed to alter course and hit the Rock within the hour. No details beyond that, at the moment. And given the number of guests we now have in the Great Hall. . .' Bourdain reappeared a moment later, so clearly he hadn't gone far. 'It's still only an automated alert,' Bourdain snapped. 'I need someone human to tell me what's going on.' He reached up and tapped his earlobe, looking over Dakota's shoulder. His eyes gradually unfocused, and she guessed he was seeing and hearing someone on his technical staff as if they were standing next to him. 'Tell me what's happening,' he suddenly demanded of the empty air. His expression got grimmer. After a moment, Bourdain shook his head, clearly unhappy. He appeared to suddenly notice her, as if he'd forgotten what had only just taken place in his office. 'This isn't over,' he told her, venom in his voice. 'Hugh, come with me.' She heard Moss s.h.i.+ft away from behind her. 'Stay here,' he warned her. 'Don't make it any worse for yourself than it already is.' They left, closing the door as they exited. She was on her own. Almost. The bead-zombies remained standing on either side of her, like frighteningly detailed statues. Dakota realized, with a start, that neither Moss nor Bourdain had yet given them any orders, and without directions they were about as dangerous as a pair of well-muscled vegetables. She sat there frozen for a couple of seconds more, filled with sick fascination at the steady rise and fall of the zombies' chests as they hovered beside her. As they would wait, for ever, or until instructed to go elsewhere. Dakota stood up carefully, ready to bolt if either of them so much as twitched a non-sentient muscle in her direction. A wave of nausea swept over her and she leaned against the back of her chair just in time to stop herself from collapsing. Thank you, Piri. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You saved my life. Even so, it wouldn't take Bourdain long to realize that Dakota was the cause of it all. She went to the door and tugged at it experimentally, unsurprised to find it locked. Come on, Piri. Come on, Piri. She rattled the handle for the tenth time in as many seconds, and suddenly the door swung open. She peered out into the corridor beyond, knowing her problems were far from over. All she'd done was find her way out of his office. Now she had to get past Bourdain's security set-up, and safely off the asteroid itself, and that was going to be an entirely different challenge. She touched her lips and her hand came away sticky with blood. Dakota closed her eyes and thought hard. If she tried to find her way back to Piri Piri in her present battered state, she'd just be making herself easier for Bourdain's security to spot. in her present battered state, she'd just be making herself easier for Bourdain's security to spot. A frantic search located a bathroom some way along the corridor outside Bourdain's office, but fresh despair filled her when she saw herself in one of the mirrors. Blood smeared her mouth and chin from having bitten her tongue. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and soaked it under a tap, then began cleaning the gore off her face, her hands shaking so badly she kept dropping the tissue, cursing as she bent down to retrieve it. And all the while, she pictured Bourdain or Moss coming back to look for her, while she stood here defenceless. A few moments of effort and she still looked deathly pale. Not the best image to present, but it would have to do. Fortunately her dark t-s.h.i.+rt made the bloodstains less noticeable. She edged through the door at the far end of the corridor and found the party was still in full swing. She waited a moment, composing herself, then stepped forward, fresh neurochem flooding into her bloodstream. By a miracle there was no obvious sign of either Bourdain or Moss. She cut a straight line through the first of the sequence of caverns, heading for the Great Hall and the antechamber beyond, and after that the docking bays. Can you locate Bourdain ? Two inebriated men lurched eagerly towards her. One of them she decked without warning, pausing just long enough to grab the other on either side of his head, before lowering him to the ground and kneeing him hard in the stomach. He curled into a foetal ball and twisted away from her, gasping in agony. She was only distantly aware of drunken cheering in her wake; the euphorics were starting to affect her senses. Got to get out of here. Got to get out of here. She hurried on into the next chamber, where the female mogs were located. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a male wh.o.r.e copulating with one of the caged creatures on its plinth, for the benefit of a roaring crowd. The sight goaded her on with renewed and grim determination. Dakota emerged at last into the Great Hall, but didn't pause for a second. She brusquely pushed her way into the deepest, densest part of the crowd in search of cover, ignoring the startled stares her pa.s.sage provoked and a few knowing looks cast toward the door she'd just come through. 'Welcoming h.e.l.lo, meeting you please?' Dakota stumbled to a halt, as one of the Shoal-members drifted up close to her. None of its human, Consortium bodyguards were anywhere in sight. She blinked in surprise, studying the creature more closely. The bubble of water in which it floated extended perhaps two metres in width, and the anti-grav units holding it above the marble floor took the form of tiny metal discs placed at equidistant points around the containment field. The Shoal-member itself possessed about half the body ma.s.s of a human, but its shape was that of a large chondrichthian fish. Rainbow-hued fins and tail wafted within the surrounding waters, and the several tentacles it used for manipulation extended downwards from its belly region, while the gills appeared as long dark slashes halfway along its torso. Other, much tinier, non-sentient fish darted around it and, as Dakota watched, a few of the creature's tentacles lashed out to ensnare a clutch of them, stuffing them greedily into its ancillary mouth. The alien's translation and communications systems failed to disguise the cracking and chewing sounds as the fish were messily ingested. 'Pleased to meet you too,' Dakota said insincerely. She glanced around to see if she could catch sight of either Moss or Bourdain. 'Now if you'll excuse me-' 'Miss Dakota Merrick?' The Shoal-member had her full attention now. It wasn't conceivable the thing was working for Bourdain rather than the other way around-or was it? No, of course not. Concorrant Industries couldn't survive a day without the beneficence of the Shoal's technology and expertise. 'Hungry fish swimming for minnows,' the Shoal-member's translation software informed her, more than a little obscurely. 'A shallow pond. Mr Bourdain seems unhappy. Safety in numbers. Co-operation is key.' She didn't have the time for alien riddles. 'I'm sorry, I really am in a hurry.' She began to move away. 'Small and alone in deep water, more likely to be consumed by predators,' continued the alien, rather less obscurely, floating along beside her as she strode rapidly through the hall. 'A free lunch. Some feed from skin of larger fish, live. Safety in numbers, in survival strategies. Two is better company than one.' 'You . . .?' She had the uncanny sense the creature was offering to help her. 'How did you know my name?' 'Shoal know all,' the alien replied mysteriously. 'What is dark to you is light to us. Clarity itself. Shoal hold open book of dreams, waiting to be read. All locks are broken with Shoal science, all secrets laid bare. You dart through deep waters with Mr Bourdain, yes? He attempts to force words from your head. Where Mr Bourdain is concerned, many smaller fish get eaten, and much blood is spilt.' Dakota finally caught sight of Bourdain and his sidekick out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly ducked around the other side of the alien's floating bubble. She was pretty sure they hadn't seen her yet. The creature inside it swivelled to face her once more, while the bubble itself floated along by her side, matching her steady progress towards the main exit. She knew it was impossible to read human emotion into the alien's face, but she couldn't help but believe that it looked amused, somehow.
