“You’re going to tell me we have to cross this,” Ru muttered. She studied him for a moment, then reached out to wipe the blood from his face with the end of her sleeve. He winced but didn’t back away. Then, tucking their knives into their pockets to keep them out of sight, they stepped forward into the hot, sweaty crowd. It was a frustrating journey, squeezing past booths and kiosks that displayed a thousand items they desperately needed, but had no money to buy—weapons and armor, first aid supplies, and of course food. Spices filled the air, bringing on a wave of hunger so strong it was painful. But they had no money to purchase anything, nor anything to barter with, and it seemed an insanely foolish place to try shoplifting. Nevertheless, Micah did manage to sweep a drink box into his pocket, that someone had left on a table while shopping. When they were out of sight of that booth they shared its contents gratefully, their parched skin sucking in fluid like desert sands in rainy season.
Suddenly Ru stopped. “What?” Micah asked. “What’s wrong?” In answer she nodded toward a booth just ahead of them. The man in it was hawking weapons, with his wares laid out on a table in front of him as well as hung on the wall behind. The most valuable items were secured in locked metal cages: charge rods, kinetic guns, blades and projectiles of all shapes and sizes. Only a few meters away, and maddeningly inaccessible. But she wasn’t pointing to any of that. It was something on the back wall, displayed in its own small cage, that had caught her attention. When he saw what it was he breathed in sharply. “Shit,” he muttered. A K-1 triple-stage assault rifle. How many would there be in a place like this? “You don’t know that it’s yours.”
“I know that it’s mine,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving the piece.
Was she thinking of trying to retrieve it? The mere thought was insane. Even standing here like this, conspicuously fixated on it, was dangerous. “Ru, if you’re right, then the people who attacked us are probably around here somewhere. The last thing we need is to be recognized by them. Come on, let’s go.” He took hold of her arm gently, meaning to urge her forward, but she shrugged off his grip without looking away from the assault rifle. Her assault rifle. Oh, he totally understood why the sight of it here would anger her, but the degree to which she was fixated on it was unnerving. She’s Gueran, he reminded himself. Somewhere inside her head, there’s a part of her brain that doesn’t function like other brains. Is that what’s causing this? Could her Variation drive her to consider something so mind-bogglingly stupid as trying to reclaim this weapon?
“What we’re carrying is worth more than a K-1, and we need to deliver it.” He tapped the side of his headset, reminding her of the malware data he had copied. “That chip is worth more than your pride right now.”
She looked at him. Just that, for a moment. Then she nodded.
The rest of their passage through the market was less dramatic, though exhausting. By the time they reached the archway at the far end, Micah was aching to breathe clean air again, and to walk without having to squeeze past other people. The first wish, at least, was granted. As they passed over the threshold, currents of air from the other side swept away the smells of the unwashed multitudes and their wares. Even the noise behind them seemed to fade a bit, though that was probably just wishful thinking on his part.
Soon, soon, they would be off this miserable rock.
As they continued on he asked, “Would you really have gone after the gun?”
“You mean, if you didn’t stop me?”
He nodded.
She smiled slightly. “I was just wondering how its current owner might respond if I offered to barter for it.”
“With what? Your boot knives? Those wouldn’t pay for a round of ammo.”
She patted her rear pocket. “I still have the Seti drug.”
“Okay, so you offer that to him. Then what? He opens the packet to get a closer look, gets a whiff of what’s inside, and it’s the end of that deal. Hell, that stink could clear out half the market—” He stopped suddenly. “Ah. Gotcha.”
She smiled sweetly. “It would have been fun to try. But as you say, duty calls.”
Fun to try. That’s how she envisioned an act that might have gotten the two of them lynched for ruining the market. God, he hoped that was her Gueran Variation speaking, because if not, she really was insane.
It was her map that guided them now, to a central dome from which they might access both ships and flyways. But her notes didn’t indicate which of the tunnels branching off from it would take them where they needed to go, and Micah’s map was no improvement. Apparently this part of the station had been developed after the map was uploaded. Damn. He and Ru were so close to their objective that he could taste it, but this last leg might prove the most difficult of all.
He went to one of the exits and peered into yet another featureless tunnel. He was willing to bet the others would be equally unidentified. Were they going to have to approach this like they had the labyrinth, choosing paths at random until they found one they could use? It hadn’t worked that well the first time.
“Hey. Over here.” Ru was waving to him from across the dome. Apparently she’d found something.
“I think this is the one,” Ru said from a tunnel to the right of him. “Come on, let’s go.”
He froze. Turning slowly toward the second voice, he saw Ru standing at the mouth of the tunnel nearest him. But the other Ru was still on the far side of the dome.
“This one is wider than the others,” came a voice from behind him. He hesitated before looking that way, fearing to confirm the worst. It was yet another Ru, identical to the first two, waving for him to join her.
“Is everything okay?” The question came from across the dome, where the original Ru had been. But when he turned back that way he saw there were now two of her side by side. They seemed unaware of each other, but spoke in perfect unison. “Do we need to do a reality check?”
There were five of them now; the delusion was multiplying. “There’s more than one of you,” he whispered hoarsely. Several of the Rus looked shocked. There were six total, now. No, make that seven. Every time he turned to look in a new direction another one appeared, identical to all the others down to the smallest detail. He was no longer sure which one was the original, and their manner offered no clue; each Ru mirrored the others like a marionette on a common string.
“Okay,” three of the Rus said in perfect unison. “Take my hand and I’ll guide you.” Only it was not one Ru that reached out to him but half a dozen of them, their steps synchronized. Which one was real? What would happen if an unreal one reached him first? He backed hurriedly away, pulling his headset off as he did so. It didn’t help at all. Of course it didn’t help. He knew only that one Ru was real, but he didn’t know which one; as long as his brain thought the others might be real, he lacked the power to exorcize the illusion. But at least if the headset was off no new madness could infect him—he hoped—so he stuck it into his belt.