Grab Velith’s arm and slash his claws across my forearm. He scrambles out of his seat like he thinks he’s under attack; I’m finally showing my true colors, the crazed killer the Corp has painted me. But by the time he figures it out, it’s too late. I work my thumb feverishly over the vein just beneath my elbow, and the blood really starts to flow.
It drips down my forearm and over my fingertips, crimson drops spattering the ki-pants I put on after my shower, intending to curl up next to March. The blood looks dark and obscene against the pale fabric, living art.
“What is the matter with you?” I can tell by his tone that he doesn’t understand. Not surprising, this isn’t something a sane person would do.
His long, thin body blocks the path to the cockpit, as if I would try to take over the ship. That’s fine; it even works in my favor, as I’m heading the other way. Bracing my palms on the back of the seat, I bounce over, then it’s clear to where the four Morgut sit, conversing in a low chitter.
Deliberately I draw my arm back and fan it across their faces. All four of them draw back as if struck; and then, as one, forked tongues flick out to sample my flavor. Watching their faces, seeing how the slit-pupil eyes dilate with a different sort of lust, I feel like I could puke, but instead, I murmur, “Good? Want more?”
And all hell breaks loose.
CHAPTER 49
I expect to die.
When the first Morgut launches itself at me, I don’t even flinch. The others follow in a fury, but I simply squeeze my eyes shut and stand my ground. But instead of going down beneath a wave of rending limbs, Velith shoves me behind him. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, but he pushes me back so hard that I overbalance, slamming my head against the seat.
My vision fills with little flecks of light as I hit the floor. I hear grunts, sounds of scuffling, and weapon fire as if through a tunnel. Feel something hot and viscous spattering my face. I could crawl under the seats. Wait. Instead I push to my hands and knees, dizzy and nauseous. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost.
When I force my eyes open, the ridge along my brow throbs; maybe I hit my face on something on the way down. The carnage astonishes me. Of the five, only Velith’s left standing, but he looks really fragged up. Two of the Morgut bodies are still convulsing, pestilent ooze boiling out of their wounds.
“Why? Why did you do that?” We voice the question in unison, although we’re asking vastly different things.
“All I wanted was to die,” I whisper. “Why didn’t you let me? You still get paid.”
He’s bleeding in four places that I can see, a thin, delicate stream. Thought his blood would look different, but Vel is more like me than the Morgut. He’s not a monster.
His claws click together, and it makes me feel his agitation. “I captured you alive, Sirantha. Never has a target been slain while in my charge, and no one is going to sully my impeccable record, not you, not them. Now sit down and shut up before I am tempted to see how much damage you can survive.”
The Silverfish slows. Even though it’s a graceful descent, I feel the lessening altitude in my belly and in the way my knees bend slightly as if gravity asserts more influence closer to the ground. Don’t know whether we’ve reached Corp headquarters or if the pilot heard the commotion, but I’m betting on the latter.
A low, unpleasant noise comes over the comm system, and Velith cocks his head, listening. “No. Nicht. Do not come back here. Everything is fine. Keep going.” Then he lapses into the chittering I find unintelligible.
But whatever he’s saying doesn’t appear persuasive, and the Morgut pilot puts us down so deftly I barely feel the touchdown. Whatever else may be said of them, they know their way around a ship. I hear the door to the cockpit unseal with a soft whoosh, but Velith greets him with a shot to the head, and his brains spray out bile green against the bulwark, more modern art.
He seems to read my reaction and lifts a shoulder in that endearing almost shrug. “I never liked him.”
That strikes me as absurdly amusing, but I manage to contain my laughter, knowing it will come out sounding like hysteria. “Why did you kill him?”
“They were clutchmates. He would have attacked us if I had not reacted thus, and I am in no condition to engage in unnecessary violent confrontation.”
I shake my head. “You’re crazier than they say I am. You should’ve let them kill me. What’s waiting for me at Corp headquarters is so much worse.”
With that I turn and head for the door. I’m not afraid of him anymore. My peaceable surrender has accomplished something that I don’t quite comprehend, but it seems he feels honor bound to protect me until we reach our destination. I can use that to my advantage. As he pointed out, he isn’t in top shape right now. Neither am I, so we’d be two cripples mixing it up with our crutches, so to speak.
Hope neither one of us is that dumb.
I hit the button that unseals the outer doors, and the stairs lower with the smooth sound of well-maintained machinery. A gust of frosty air sends a chill straight through me, and when I peer out, I see that we’re in the middle of nowhere. Big surprise. But instead of a field full of golden grain, we’ve landed in smooth, white tundra, mountains in the distance, also white-capped. I’m fragging hungry, so they remind me of choclaste cakes with cream sauce on top. The sky looks as if it may snow, and the light diffused through the clouds appears touched with gold.