The Pharaoh Contract

Chapter 26

Ruiz rose into the control blister, whirling the bola. Marmo turned swiftly, and to Ruiz’s horror, the cyborg held a splinter gun. Ruiz released the bola.

The bola seemed to float across the intervening space as languorously as a bird in a dream, the spinning weights throwing off warm gleams. The splinter gun rose toward Ruiz, inexorably. Ruiz threw himself sideways and down; the floor was impossibly far away. He pointed the ancient handgun as he fell, but his first shot was an impotent click.

The splinter gun fired with a soft stuttering cough, just as the bola struck the cyborg. Splinters sleeted through the spot Ruiz had just vacated, ricocheting off the bulkhead in all directions, some embedding themselves in Ruiz’s back.

The bola’s chains snapped tight, pinning the splinter gun to the cyborg’s torso at a momentarily useless angle.

Ruiz gasped, pulled the trigger again. The gun boomed, an ear-shattering sound in that enclosed space, and the slug knocked the cyborg against the port. Marmo bounced off the armorglass, apparently undamaged, but he had lost his grip on the splinter gun. The cyborg floated forward, ripping at the chains, but Ruiz was faster. He leaped across the deck, snatched up the splinter gun, threw himself onto the cyborg’s back. He pressed the muzzle to the soft flesh under Marmo’s chin.

“Be still,” Ruiz said, “or I’ll eat a hole right into you. You’re mine, tin man.”

Marmo turned his head, looked into Ruiz’s eyes. “I see that. Be careful, please. I am more fragile than I appear.”

Ruiz tugged the bola chains down, tucked the ends tightly. He fished the knife from his shoe, worked it into Marmo’s shoulder until he had severed the hydraulic lines that powered Marmo’s metal arm.

“Was that necessary?” Marmo seemed no more than mildly curious.

Ruiz made no reply.

Marmo’s blank steel eyes flickered past Ruiz’s shoulder for a moment. A wave of misgiving filled Ruiz as he whirled to look out the port. A small white shape ran toward the perimeter.

“Nisa,” Ruiz whispered. He grabbed at the collar controller. Red and yellow buttons marched in rows. Color codes marked each pair of buttons, so he could locate Nisa’s buttons, but he had no way to tell which button exploded the collar and which injected the anesthesia. Nisa was almost to the perimeter, and overhead Ruiz heard the whine of the ruptor turret coming to life. Ruiz looked about wildly. He could not identify the ruptor controls; there was probably no time to disarm it, even if he could find them.

Ruiz thrust the controller at Marmo. “Which kills, red or yellow?” he demanded.

“Yellow,” Marmo said without perceptible hesitation.

Ruiz’s finger quivered over the controller; then he stabbed the yellow button. Just for an instant, he closed his eyes and sagged against the cool glass of the port. But he heard no explosion, and when he opened his eyes he could see Nisa sprawled on the ground, just short of the perimeter. He whirled, just in time to dodge the cyborg’s rush. Marmo thumped the glass with enough force to have crushed Ruiz; the impact seemed to disorient the cyborg for a moment. Ruiz jumped at him, crooked an elbow around Marmo’s neck, and set his foot against the bottom of Marmo’s floater chassis. Ruiz heaved, and the cyborg slowly tipped over, to fall with a crash on his side.

Marmo spoke in a gently reproachful voice. “This is a sad situation. I cannot raise myself from this position.”

“You lied to me; I should cut your head off,” Ruiz said. “But I’ll wait a bit. Who knows, I might even let you live, if you can find a way to be useful to me.”

Marmo sighed. “I trust that I can.”

“Begin this way. Where is the key to our collars?”

“I fear Corean has the only one.”

Ruiz knelt by the cyborg and smiled. He raised his stiletto and began to saw methodically at the tough fabric that underlay the segmented coupling between Marmo’s head and torso.

“Uncivilized. You should use the gun; so much more efficient.” Marmo’s steel eyes rolled.

Ruiz laughed, bore down. The tip of the stiletto slipped between the segments, and a drop of bright blood welled up. The cyborg jerked, tried to twist away.

“Wait!” Marmo said. “I suddenly recall that a backup key is locked under the main console.”

Ruiz flipped the stiletto shut. He went over to the console, looked beneath it. Set in the tangle of wires was a small black case. On it a red light flashed beside a small keyboard.

“How can I trust you to give me the code?” Ruiz asked.

“A problem,” Marmo said mildly. “Let me think.”

Ruiz glanced out the port. Nisa still lay by the perimeter, and he felt a sudden twinge of anxiety. “Think fast,” he admonished the cyborg, and then he opened his stiletto again.

“Calmly, calmly. I have it. Roll me over to the lockbox, and I’ll open it for you. If it’s booby-trapped, I’ll take the brunt of it.”

Ruiz set his foot and rolled the cyborg over. Three turns later Marmo lay under the console.

“You’ll have to loosen my arm,” Marmo said.

“In a moment.” Using the point of the stiletto, Ruiz teased open the access plate on the side of Marmo’s torso. Inside was the cyborg’s main power cell. Ruiz got a good grip on the handle of the cell.

“What are you doing?” The cyborg’s voice had a nervous edge to it.

“I’m a fast thinker, too,” Ruiz said.

Marmo sighed, seemed to shrink a little. Ruiz freed Marmo’s flesh arm from the bola chain; the cyborg reached up and tapped at the lockbox. The key, a strip of mnemonic plastic, dropped out.

Ruiz caught it. “Thank you,” he said politely, and jerked the cyborg’s power cell.

Marmo sagged, became still. Ruiz ran from the control blister, down the passageway, out through the hold into the night.

Ruiz removed Nisa’s collar before his own. He picked her up, carried her past the others, who stood by their tents wearing looks of sleepy astonishment.

As they passed Flomel, the mage stepped forward and caught at Ruiz’s arm. “What’s happening?” Flomel demanded. “What are you up to?”

Ruiz looked at Flomel, raised the splinter gun. Flomel went pale, and his hand dropped away. Ruiz carried Nisa up the ramp into the boat. Behind him, he heard the mage whispering in outraged tones, then Dolmaero’s calm rumble.

He laid her on a couch. She seemed to be breathing without difficulty, her color was good, and when he laid his head against her breast, he could hear her heart beating strongly. He remained there for a moment, cheek pressed to her warmth. He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers, marveled at its silky texture. He buried his nose into her hair, breathed in her scent.

Ugly pictures rose in his mind, things that might have been — Nisa running, the flat crack of the ruptor, the splash of flesh and bone, the precious body opened up like a butchered animal’s, nothing more than a decaying scrap, empty of Nisa. He pushed the pictures away; it had not happened. He could not understand why he was still shaking.

After a while, he went to Marmo and searched through the cyborg’s numerous pockets and compartment and storage slots. Mostly he found a collection of hand-held games, which soon formed a little glittering mound next to the cyborg. But Ruiz found useful things as well. He found a small multifunction cyberprobe, which Marmo had no doubt used to monitor his mechanical health. He found three spare magazines for the splinter gun. He found a master key to the boat’s other cabins. He found a credit chip, which he speculated was to be used at the end of their journey. He found a skinpopper made in the same style as the collar controller, which he decided must contain the antidote to the collar sedative. He found a crumpled piece of paper, on which was scribbled what seemed to be a call-in schedule, and at this discovery Ruiz’s heart sank. The next call was due at midmorning.

When Ruiz had emptied every hiding place on Marmo’s chassis and stowed the useful gear in his own pockets, he returned to Nisa’s couch. She showed no sign of waking. He strapped her to the couch, to prevent her from injuring herself should she try to rise before her equilibrium returned.

Ruiz walked down the ramp, carrying the splinter gun and Marmo’s power cell. The other prisoners sat by their tents, eyes wide in the light that spilled from the boat. Ruiz smiled at Dolmaero, gave Flomel a hard look, nodded at Molnekh. Kroel made a whimpering sound and scurried into his tent.

“Things have changed,” Ruiz said. He threw the power cell far out into the darkness.

Flomel got painfully to his feet. “How so?” he demanded. “What terrible thing have you done? I’ve heard all about you and your murderous ways. If you’ve harmed any of the Lady’s employees, you’ll regret it.”

In spite of himself, Ruiz was astonished. “You are an idiot, Flomel. What did you imagine yourself to be? One of her ‘employees’? You were her slave, a piece of property.”

“You’re a liar,” Flomel snarled. “You’ll suffer for this, oh yes.”

Ruiz saw that reason would be wasted on the mage. He sighed and raised the controller. Flomel’s eyes bulged. He fell back, raised his hands defensively.

Dolmaero stood up. “Ruiz, wait,” he said. “Master Flomel is a fool, but should he die for that? If we kill all the fools, who’d be left?”

Flomel shot a malevolent look at Dolmaero, and Ruiz thought, Flomel won’t thank him for that.

Ruiz touched the yellow button by Flomel’s color code, and the mage dropped unconscious. “He’ll live, so I imagine,” Ruiz said. “But I’ll get some use out of him. I think I have the antidote to the collar anesthesia; I’ll experiment with him before I try it on Nisa.”

He went to Dolmaero, pressed the collar key to his neck. The collar dropped away. Dolmaero rubbed his throat thoughtfully. “How did you manage this? I’m impressed beyond words.”

“Banessa’s dead, and the half-man disabled. I’ll tell you about it later.” Ruiz looked at Molnekh. “Molnekh, I must ask you: Will you do as I tell you, if I release you?”

Molnekh smiled nervously. “I assume that my other choice is to remain here until the Lady arrives.”

“No, I won’t leave you here. Sook has an interesting variety of predators; without the ruptor, they’d soon have you for dinner. I won’t even leave Flomel, but I’ll have to lock him in the hold.”

The thin mage blinked. “You’re not so bloodthirsty as we’ve been told. In any case, I have no desire to meet the Lady again; she’ll be put out by these events, I suspect. Lead on.”

Ruiz released him from his collar. “Thank you,” Molnekh said.

“You’re welcome,” Ruiz said. “But what about Kroel? Is he capable of acting rationally?”

Molnekh pursed his lips. “I’m unwilling to venture a guess. What do you think, Guildmaster? You’re well known to be a good judge in such matters.”

Dolmaero scratched his head. “I don’t know. Master Kroel has an inflexible and brittle mind, and under these circumstances… I don’t think I’d put much trust in him.”

“Then for the time being, we’ll leave the collar on him. What of Flomel? Can logic penetrate his skull?”

Dolmaero looked at the sprawled mage. “Flomel is an intelligent man, if not a very pleasant one. He may listen. By the way, where is the woman-man?”

“Dead, in my tent.”

Dolmaero raised a quizzical eyebrow, but asked no more questions.

Dolmaero and Molnekh carried the slumbering Flomel into the hold, still collared. He snored vigorously.

“Do you think you can fetch Kroel?” Ruiz asked Molnekh.

“I’ll try.”

“Here’s the leash key,” Ruiz said, retrieving it from Nisa’s tent. “We’ll leave the collar for a bit.”

Ruiz watched from the top of the ramp while the skinny mage squatted by the opening to Kroel’s tent and talked to Kroel. After a few minutes, Kroel came forth, moving uncertainly, leaning on Molnekh’s frail shoulder.

Molnekh helped Kroel into the hold, murmuring reassurances. Kroel sat heavily on the bench, staring at the floor.

“Master Kroel,” Ruiz said. “Give me your attention, please.” The mage nodded without raising his eyes. “Things have changed, it’s true, but for the better. I promise you this.”

Kroel nodded again, a childlike bobbing of the head, incongruous in such a burly man.

Dolmaero touched Ruiz’s back, where blood from the splinter wounds soaked the cloth. “You’re injured,” he said.

Ruiz winced. “It’s not bad. But if you’d be kind enough to pick the splinters out, I’d thank you.”

Dolmaero smiled. “That much I can probably do.” Ruiz located a med kit, let down the top of his overalls. Dolmaero doctored him quite gently. When he was finished, and Ruiz’s wounds were covered with patches of pseudoskin, Dolmaero spoke with courteous curiosity. “I would have expected a man such as yourself to have more scars.”

Ruiz smiled, clapped Dolmaero on the shoulder. “I keep my scars on the inside, where they belong.”

Ruiz brought out the skinpopper, pressed it to Flomel’s neck. The mage jerked when Ruiz triggered the popper, and then his eyes flew open. He struggled to rise, spluttered in impotent rage.

“Shut up,” Ruiz said sharply. “Keep silent and listen, or I’ll put you under again. You’re no longer in charge.”

Flomel’s face froze, and his eyes burned. But he clamped his mouth shut.

Ruiz sighed. “All right. Listen, all of you. You’ve surely guessed that Corean is a slaver. Her plan was to make you perform for an audience of bidders. I’ll tell you this: The phoenix troupes of Pharaoh bring a high price on the pangalac market — she’d have made a tidy sum from you.”

Dolmaero spoke. “Why are you here, Ruiz? You’re not of Pharaoh.”

Ruiz lied automatically. “An accident. I was a tourist on Pharaoh; I was as surprised as any of you when we were snatched up.”

Dolmaero rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What of Master Flomel’s story? That you jumped onto the stage just before we were taken?”

“Yes,” Molnekh said. “I saw you, too.”

Stop underestimating Dolmaero, Ruiz thought. He improvised. “I was just trying to get a good picture. With my camera — a picture-making machine all tourists carry. I tripped. But none of this is important now. Now we have to decide what we must do.”

“What can we do?” Dolmaero asked.

“Sensible question. First, there is a large corpse to be removed from one of the cabins. Then I’ll see to reviving Nisa. Then we’ll examine the boat and see if we can control it.”

They left Kroel huddled in the hold, secured to the bench. Flomel followed a few paces behind, as if fearing to be associated with the others. At Banessa’s door, Ruiz paused. “There’s an ugly sight inside. But we’ve got to get her out; she’d make an intolerable stink after a few days, if we had to leave her in there.”

He pushed open the door. The giantess lay on the bunk, face black, legs spraddled.

“It won’t be easy,” Dolmaero said. “She must weigh two hundred kilos. How did you manage to overcome her?”

Ruiz shook his head, unwilling to provide details. “Surprise. Now roll her out of the bunk, and we’ll see if we can drag her.”

Flomel stood at the head of the bunk. He touched the sensie helmet. “What’s this?”

Ruiz lifted it away, dropped it, crushed it under his foot. “You don’t want to know, Master Flomel.”

While Dolmaero and Molnekh rocked the corpse until it spilled out onto the deck, Flomel wandered about the cabin, examining the things that lay there. He started to pick up a jeweled dagger, but Ruiz shook his head. Flomel shot him a look seething with hatred, but he drew back. He moved on, came upon the jar in which the giantess had kept her pickled penises. “What are these—” Flomel started to ask. He went pale.

“A good person, would you still say, Master Flomel?” Ruiz smiled at Flomel, and for once the mage had no response. Flomel stood musing, wearing a dourly pessimistic face.

Meanwhile the others had tied the corpse’s wrists together with wire from the sensie unit and were ready to try to move her.

“Good thing we got here before she went stiff; we’d never have gotten her out,” said Dolmaero.

The three of them were just able to move her, pulling in concert. Flomel trailed as before, thinking private thoughts. When they reached the hold, Kroel started up in terror, but Molnekh was able to calm him.

“I’m going to wake Nisa, now,” Ruiz said. “Roll Banessa down the ramp. You help,” he said, pointing at Flomel.

“I? I am no casteless mongrel, to touch dead things!”

Ruiz frowned. “I won’t kill you for being a fool. But I don’t have to feed you, and I can keep you chained in the hold, if you refuse to take direction.”

For a moment Flomel looked as though he might fly at Ruiz. But after a long appraising moment he nodded sullen acceptance.

“Good,” Ruiz said. He pressed the key to Flomel’s collar, removed it, tossed it out. He climbed out of the hold.

Nisa lay quietly on the couch. Ruiz sat beside her for a moment, admiring her. She was still beautiful, despite the bedraggling effect of the night’s events. He pressed the popper to her neck and she gasped. When her eyes fluttered open, Ruiz was shocked by the dark look in them.

“No, no, it’s all right, Nisa,” he said, and gathered her up. After a moment her arms went around him, tight.

“I thought I was dead,” she whispered. “And lucky to be so. I thought you were dead.”

“We’re both alive. With a little luck we’ll stay that way.” He touched her throat where the collar had clasped her. He kissed the line of her jaw.

Some time later, she pulled away slightly, looked around the dark control blister. She saw the tipped-over Marmo and trembled. “Dead?”

Ruiz followed her gaze. “No, not dead, I think, but powerless. And the giantess is dead. The others are throwing out her body.”

“The others?”

“All safe.”

“You should kill the conjurors, Ruiz. Or leave them here. They can’t be trusted; they think they’re better than anyone else.”

“You mean… they’re like princesses?”

She twitched between amusement and annoyance. “No, I’m serious, Ruiz. It would be safer. And you can kill without difficulty, true?”

“You think so?”

She seemed to see something unpleasant in his face; she drew away and wrapped her arms around herself. “Have you killed a great many, Ruiz?”

He stood and went to the port. “Some,” he muttered.

“What?”

“I said—” He turned and looked at her. “Well. The worlds are wide, Nisa, and full of life. Out of all those trillions… some don’t deserve life. Besides, didn’t you just tell me to kill the conjurors? I assure you: Despite what they did to you, they’re scarcely less innocent than you are. Why should they die?”

“All right. You’re right; let them live. I’ll watch them.”

He laughed. “Yes, a good solution.”

Nisa felt the first stirrings of hope, as she watched Ruiz explore the boat’s control system. His strong hands seemed to know what they touched. They caressed the switches and lights and screens, slowly searching out the meaning of all those bewildering things. He was almost a god, he could destroy with a god’s nonchalance; perhaps, she thought, he could make miracles as easily.

When the sun rose over the pink veldt, Ruiz asked her to pass out food packets to the former prisoners. Nisa went to the locker he indicated, fumbled with the unfamiliar latch that held it shut, finally got it open. “Be reassuring,” Ruiz said. “Don’t frighten Flomel; if he tries to hurt you, Dolmaero will stop him. Come back when you’re finished.”

She carried the packets down to the hold. Dolmaero and Molnekh took their share eagerly. Kroel looked at her dumbly, eyes vacant, and did not raise his hand. She set the packet by him on the bench.

When she approached Flomel, the senior mage stared at her, his face shifting between hate and fear. “Master Flomel,” she said, holding out the food. “It’s not poison. Ruiz Aw says I mustn’t try to kill you again, so I won’t.”

He snatched the packet, lips clamped in a narrow line.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

When she passed the lock, she could see the giantess lying sprawled at the foot of the ramp. Already the corpse was attracting carrion bugs, great golden beetles with shimmering wings. When one flew inside and bit Molnekh on one of his lean cheekbones, Ruiz retracted the ramp and shut the lock.

“Come up to the control blister,” Ruiz said. He turned and spoke kindly to Kroel, still huddled on the bench. “Master Kroel, will you wait for us? Above are dangerous machines, and you’ll be safer here.”

In the control blister, Ruiz leaned against the main board. “We have a problem.”

Only Dolmaero laughed, though Molnekh smiled his wide toothy smile.

“Yes, well…” Ruiz grinned at them. “But what I mean is this: The boat is programmed for Corean’s destination. I can’t change it. So we must either ride the boat in that direction or strike off on foot. It’s my opinion that the veldt is too dangerous. I don’t know much about the wildlife in this part of Sook, but Corean’s people were afraid of something.”

Ruiz did not mention the stirrings of the mission-imperative in his mind, a voice that demanded he proceed with his investigation. The mission-imperative was weakening, with time and the slippage of the death net, but it was still strong enough to make him very uncomfortable, and thus less effective.

Molnekh spoke up. “I’m afraid too. Hungry things live in the grass; I’m sure of it. But whatever Corean had planned for us has no appeal for me now.”

“Nor me,” said Ruiz. “But there’s some good news. We can ride the boat toward our destination, and if we see a good spot to stop — a village where we can get transport to a neutral launch ring, for example — the program will allow me to land.”

“This then is what we must do.” Flomel spoke in an assured tone.

Ruiz looked at the mage, surprised. “I’m pleased that you agree with my assessment. Master Flomel.”

The mage’s face was a mask of affability, and Ruiz thought Flomel had never looked more treacherous. “‘When the Hellwind blows, even the strongest tree must dance’; so it is said.” Flomel smiled, a somehow ghastly expression.

Ruiz glanced at Nisa, saw a look of loathing pass over her face. She was watching Flomel intently; when her gaze flickered to Ruiz for a moment, he winked.

Dolmaero perched on the edge of the couch. He seemed troubled; his fingers twisted together, and he stared at the floor.

“What of you, Guildmaster?” Ruiz asked. “Give us your opinion.”

Dolmaero looked up, clearly uncomfortable. “I think your plan is the only possible one. But… Ruiz Aw, I must ask you: What are your intentions toward us? Has our ownership passed to you? And can we hope to return to Pharaoh?”

Ruiz blinked. “No, no, I’m not your owner. You’re free, as far as I’m concerned. Anyone who wishes may leave now and make their own way.” He turned and looked at Nisa. “Though I would regret it. As to getting home to Pharaoh… I’m sorry, but I think it unlikely, at this point.”

Nisa jerked her gaze away from Flomel and looked at Ruiz, shock written in her face. The others mirrored that emotion.

“Ahh…” said Dolmaero heavily. “This is a blow, Ruiz Aw. But not completely a surprise. Until you took the boat, I’d put such hopes away. Still, will you tell us why we couldn’t somehow return?”

Ruiz was uneasy. How could he tell them that under pangalac law they were still the property of the Art League, that the only way they could ever return legally to Pharaoh was as brainwiped cargo? He temporized. “Travel between the stars is expensive, and few ships call at Pharaoh.”

Dolmaero watched him sadly. “I fear that isn’t the whole story.”

Ruiz looked down. “No. It’s a complicated matter. We’ll talk of it later, if you wish, but now we need to be moving. I’m expecting a call from Corean; she’ll be unhappy when none of her folk answer. I’ve checked as best I can for override circuits, and I don’t believe she’ll be able to take control from us. But I can’t be sure; I’d like to make as much progress as we can before she calls.”

Ruiz turned to the main panel, began to ready the boat for travel. Without turning, he said, “Everyone sit on the couches and fasten the restraint webbing; it’s possible we’ll have a rough trip.”

When the engine began to whine, and the boat lifted into Sook’s sky, he looked back at them. All sat stiffly in the webbing. Three wore identical frowns of uncertainty.

But Nisa smiled as she watched him, her eyes full of some sweet emotion that lifted his heart.