Windswept (34 page)

“No,” said Banks. “The other two.”

“The twins?” I said. “Those old ladies?”

“Fooled you, didn’t they? They’re mental, but they’re insanely good at their job.”

“Is that why they’re here? To keep you in line?”

He nodded. “They’ve known for a while I’ve wanted to leave. Been getting careless in my work. Not paying attention to details, like the fact that one of my people has an unpleasant personal history with the person who’s guiding us around.”

“That would have been helpful.”

“And I didn’t, because I didn’t care,” he said. “As soon as I got out of that can, I stopped caring. I was
almost
free.” He rubbed his temples. “It was my job to keep an eye on Ellie. Nariel. Whatever. It was my job, and I failed at it, and now all those people are dead, and your life is fucked, and quite possibly
everyone’s
life, too.”

The cutter’s gentle rocking was starting to get to me. “You know, I really should feel sorry for you, Banks. You signed a contract with the devil, and you got screwed for it.” I turned and pointed a finger at his head. “But you
lied
to me. You could have told me who you were from the get-go, and I would have gotten over it. Hell, I might have stepped up to the plate for you, because you’re just the kind of person the Union is supposed to protect.”

“I know,” he said, “I know, but how could I tell you? How could I have done this any other way that wouldn’t have ended with you tossing me in jail or sending me back up the cable?”

“You would have had to trust me,” I said. “And now I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Soni walked back into the room, a box of crayons in her hand. “Can you believe this is the only thing I could find? Leftover from Take Your Kids to Work Day.” She looked at us both, me at the porthole and Banks sitting at the table, staring at his boots. “I miss something?”

“Banks is ready to make his statement,” I said, “and then Jilly will, and then
I
will, and then I’d like to go to jail as far from his pai as I can, please.”

“No need for that,” said Soni. “Got a call on the radio, which is the only piece of electronics
not
affected by your friend, and you’re in the clear, Padma.”

“No shit?”

“None,” said Soni, sitting at the table. “Evanrute Saarien was last seen thirty minutes ago at the tail of a convoy of cargo trucks leaving Sou’s Reach for Steelcase.”

“You sure it was him?”

Soni nodded. “He plowed through a pair of patrol wagons, and yelled something about how it was all for the glory of the Struggle and to get the hell out of his way.”

“That sounds right,” I said. “Your guys bust him?”

“Lost him in the stacks,” said Soni. “And there’s so much cargo heading out to the lifter that it’s going to take a while to find him. But we will. I got the charges dropped, so you’re free to go as soon as we get to land.”

“What about me?” said Banks.

“You,” said Soni, “are going to give me a full statement, and then we’ll see.”

Banks looked at me. “I don’t suppose I could count on you as a character witness?”

“That depends on how quickly you can get your pai reburned so you don’t go tattling everything to your buddies,” I said.

Soni threw down the crayon and looked at Banks. “Goddamn
Ghosts
. Does that mean your team knows where you and that one-eyed nutbag are?”

Jilly leaned away from the porthole. “Boss, we got bad company!”

“Yeah,” said Banks, “and I think they’re about here. Sorry.”

An airship carrier buzzed the cutter, sending a spray of ocean water from its turbines. It zipped back, hovering alongside us. It held a stack of three cargo cans, all of them streaked with rust. On the top can was a single figure in black, squatting behind the biggest cannon I had seen since B-school. “We need to go,” I said, hustling away from the porthole as the airship opened fire.

Soni yelled something, but I couldn’t hear it over the continuous buzz of the cannon and the ship coming to pieces around us. The cutter lurched, sending us scrambling for footing. Then a few hundred rounds pierced the cabin, and none of us cared about standing up anymore. I pulled Jilly to the deck, Banks huddling over both of us. Soni kept yelling orders as she lay flat in front of me. The gunfire continued until the entire boat shook, and the stench of smoke and cane diesel engulfed us.

One of the airship’s PAs crackled. “STAND BY TO BE BOARDED,” came a goonish voice.

“To hell with that,” yelled Soni over the turbines’ whine, pulling her sidearm out of her holster.

“Are you high?” I yelled back. “Riot foam against them?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Well, fleeing comes to mind,” I yelled.

“No way,” yelled Soni. “These Ghosts think they can just blow up my boat and get away with it?”

“Hey, how about how they tried to kill your friend?”

“That, too,” she yelled, scooting toward the cabin door. The cannon opened up, burying us under a hail of splintered wood and shattered metal.

six survivors fore, ten aft,
texted Banks.
everyone else overboard.

Soni and I turned to him, and he texted
you want to live you need to trust me
. Soni popped her head out again, then waved for us to follow.

Banks guided us through the ruins of the boat, sending texts to us and the surviving friendlies. A few minutes of skulking, and we all gathered in the engine room.

“Great, now we’re boxed in,” I said.

“No, this is perfect,” said Soni. “We can get out through the bilge.”

“What happened to making them pay?”

“Sixteen against that gun doesn’t even make for a good bar story,” said Soni, opening a hatch. A stench like rotten bait bloomed in the compartment. “In you go.”

I held out a hand to Banks. “After you, Counselor.”

“You take me to the best places,” he said, taking a deep breath, then diving in. Jilly gave me the stink eye but leaped through the hatch. The other crew followed as I helped Soni out of her armor.

“Help
is
on the way, right?” I said, cracking the seals under her arms.

“Even if the bad guys jammed all of our signals, someone’s going to report a police cutter on fire in the middle of the shipping lanes,” she said, tossing aside her leggings.

“Assuming anyone cares about the police,” I said, tugging at her chest plate.

“The people
love
us,” she said as someone pounded on the engine room hatch.

“I can tell,” I said, and we jumped in.

It only took seventeen seconds to swim through the bilge – and I know, because I counted, because it was the only thing that kept my mind off the fact that this was the second time in twelve hours that I’d gone for a dip in filth – and pop out behind the cutter’s dead propellers. The airship hovered off the starboard bow, its turbines drowning out any conversation.
now what?
one of the crew texted.

now we wait,
Soni answered.
rescue en route.

Brilliant,
I texted, then looked at Banks. He had that green look, though anyone would after what we’d been through.
You OK?

you really concerned?

If anyone’s going to kick your ass, it’s going to be me.

He gave me a weak smile, then texted,
what’s grabbing my leg?

Squid, probably
, I texted.
Perfectly safe.

Banks gave me a weak nod, then gurgled as he disappeared under the water.

Before I could yell, a metal tentacle broke the surface and thrashed around. It knocked one of the crew aside, spooking everyone else. They swam over each other as the tentacle paused, and I saw that it wasn’t some robosquid but one of the airship’s cargo claws. I grabbed at it, wrapping my legs around the thing as it zipped back underwater.

It pulled me along the length of the keel, then out of the water and into the sky. As I gulped air, the airship’s turbine wash battered down on my head. I tried to keep my grip, but the cargo claw shook once, hard, and I slipped away, only to have the claw grab my leg and spin me, upside-down, into the airship’s open bay doors.

The winch stopped with a clang, but the bay doors didn’t close. “Hey!” I called out, staring at the ocean fifty meters below. “Still in peril here!”

Someone behind me gagged, and I looked around to see Banks hanging next to me. “You’re not careful, that’s be gonna be your epitaph.”

“Are you all right?”

He gave a laugh, then stopped. “Sorry, I thought you were being ironic, there.”

“Irony comes after rescue,” I said, reaching up for the cargo claw again. My stomach muscles cursed me, and I flopped back. “You getting any other pais?”

“Just you,” said Banks. “Front compartment’s got shielding.”

“Well, can you pick up anything from what I see?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“I look like hell,” he said.

The hatch to the cockpit hissed open, and a slim Ghost climbed out. She strode to the edge of the open cargo bay and squatted in front of me. Her mask was a little girl’s face, with a crown and a sweet smile. “You need a hand?” came her voice, rough and crackly from the mask’s speakers.

“Close the bay doors!” yelled Banks.

She shook her head. “I think we need to do a little negotiation first.”

“Close the fucking doors, Mimi!”

“Oh, you know it doesn’t work this way,” said Mimi, standing up and nudging me in the chest with a boot, just enough so I started to sway. “You know you’re not supposed to help. You’re supposed to keep your mouth shut. Makes everyone’s lives easier. Makes everything
cleaner
.”

I caught the edge of the grillwork catwalk that ringed the cargo bay. Mimi reached into her pocket and snicked a retractable baton to its full length. She shook her head again and brought it down on my hands. I lost my grip and swung back into open space, my knuckles throbbing.

“Now,” said Mimi, edging around the catwalk to Banks, “you want her to live, you need to keep working for us.”

“Banks, don’t you do it,” I yelled, digging into the grillwork.

“Miss Mehta, you are not in a position to dictate terms,” said Mimi, poking me in the throat with the baton. “You never really have been. Banks?”

“Don’t!” I yelled, but Banks said, “OK.”

“Well done,” said Mimi, and she got up and jammed a button on the compartment’s wall. The doors closed. I tumbled to the deck and saw Mimi raise the baton in time to roll into her shins. She staggered back, and I launched myself at her until we collided with a bulkhead. I pulled her head down into my knee, and her mask speakers squealed as they shattered. Before she could hit back, I brought my fists down on the back of her neck until she collapsed.

“You people really should rethink this mask thing,” I said, helping Banks to his feet. “What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned helmet?”

“Psychological edge,” he said as he wobbled upright. “Plus, helmets get hot. Ooh, all the blood’s still in my head.”

“Better there than on the deck,” I said, giving Mimi a kick to the face as she tried to get up.

“You know that was under duress,” said Banks. “That deal.”

“Shut up,” I said, and reached out to hug him. “You said ’no’ the first time, and that’s what counts.” He wrapped his arms around me, more to steady himself than anything, but I took my time before I pushed him away.

I dug through Mimi’s belt and pockets for anything useful, but only found her baton and ammunition. “Where’s her gun?” I said, pointing at the empty holster. Banks tapped me on the shoulder, and I followed his outstretched finger.

Nariel stood at the open hatch, a pistol in each hand. Her jaw, now deep purple, was wrapped closed with a pressure bandage. Another bandage covered her bad eye. She kept one gun on Banks and pointed the other at the baton in my hand, then motioned toward the deck. I dropped the baton and put up my hands. Nariel nodded, then waved the gun toward the cockpit.

I had never been in an airship cockpit, despite many offers for tours from friends, coworkers, and drunken pilots in bars. I really didn’t see the point; if I was going to get around Santee, I wanted to be in the open air, not cooped up in a box. Still, I knew what to expect: a shitload of lights and buttons, uncomfortable seats, and a view of the horizon.

I didn’t expect to see two old ladies in black body armor at the controls, singing old marketing jingles at the tops of their lungs.

Madolyn turned from the copilot’s seat and gave me a sweet, sweet smile. “Hello! So good to see you both. Feel free to sing along.” Her mask, a viper, sat on the console in front of her.

“You know any of these?” said Gricelda from the pilot’s seat, her raven mask perched on the top of her head.

“A few, from History of Marketing,” I said, keeping an eye on Nariel’s guns. “Used to play some of those in a loop to help me sleep.”

“Me, too, except the last one about teaching the world to sing. So trite,” said Gricelda. “I’m so glad they still taught you that. Where’d you go to B-school?”

Both of their faces were lit up, like they were spinster aunties who’d just seen their niece play violin for the first time. I didn’t know whether to tell them about my day over tea and cookies or try for another swing.

Gricelda clucked her tongue. “Look at us nattering on, and we haven’t offered you a seat.”

Nariel pointed a gun at the navigator’s seat, which I took. Banks sat opposite.

“Much better,” said Gricelda. “Now, you and I and my little sister have already talked, of course.”

“Little by two minutes,” said Madolyn, popping over the top of her seat. “She always thinks that gives her prerogative.”

“It got me into flight school before you.”

“By one slot!” said Madolyn, putting a gloved finger in her sister’s face. “Just because you pushed me out of line, like you do every time we’re going for a jaunt.”

“Learn to keep up,” said Gricelda.

“I’ll show you how to keep up,” said Madolyn, giving the yoke a little nudge. The airship bucked down and to the right, not enough to send me out of my seat, but plenty to make my stomach flip.

Gricelda thumped her sister on the shoulder and righted the carrier. “
That’s
why you’re always in the right-hand chair,” she said, keeping a firm grip on her yoke. “You just don’t
do
that kind of thing when you’re at the controls.”