Blood sprayed across the white snow, quickly vanishing under the blizzard. I paid neither the blood nor Torgek’s corpse any mind. More urgent business needed my attention.
“Molly,” I shouted, peering into the snow and trying to place her. “Glitch?”
That was more effective. The harsh, high-pitched yowl of the hologram cat pulled me in his direction, toward the strange scattering light I’d seen before. Of course. Forgetting that he was made of light and forcefields was all too easy.
I found him futilely pawing at a mound of snow. His forcefield generator was too weak to do more than dislodge a few flakes at a time.
“There you are, Glitch,” I said, waving him back. “Best of cats, if she lives, I will be your friend for life.”
The snow came away easily for me, revealing an unconscious Molly. Examining her by the light of her hologram, I swore. Face even paler than usual, lips turning blue, the only clear sign of life a tiny pulse of steam with each imperceptible breath. She needed medical attention, and if that wasn’t available, shelter and warmth.
I had neither.
Shit.
Perhaps I could make a shelter out of snow? I knew that was a thing that could be done, but I didn’t know how. I shook my head, chest tightening. If the snow would let up enough for me to get my bearings, the station was right there. I’d get her back to her own kind, to warmth and light. But the storm insisted on continuing.
Pick a direction and get going, I told myself fiercely. Better than standing here until we both died. I told myself that one direction looked like it was uphill and walked that way, cradling Molly in my arms. She felt light as a feather and cold as a comet’s heart.
Something snagged my ankle, nearly tripping me. I looked down at Glitch, or rather Glitchs — he’d split into three, one of them trying to savage my ankle through the heavy leather boot. I’d have laughed, except the other two looked at me with wide, desperate eyes.
“What is it?” I said, crouching to see them better. One meowed, another hissed, and the third continued worrying my boot.
I frowned. “Molly is in danger here, we must go. Come on.”
The trio of Glitch shattered like mirrors, reforming into a singular cat. His static-filled eyes looked at me, wide and sorrowful. Then he turned and marched off into the snow.
I frowned. Well, whatever was up, he couldn’t get far from Molly and the holo-projector in her vambrace. Straightening up, I turned back the way I’d been walking before and took a step.
Again, something snagged my ankle. Glitch. I pursed my lips, counting to three before speaking. “What? Glitch, Molly might die if I don’t find somewhere safe for her.”
The hologram hissed at me, turned, and ran into the storm. I shivered, shook my head, and wondered — did he want me to follow him?
“One way’s as good as another,” I told myself, setting out after the cat. “At least moving will keep me warm.”
9 Molly
The first thing I noticed was the warmth surrounding me, and that felt good in a bone deep way. I tried to remember where I was, what happened to me. Everything swam together, facts, fictions, and things that might be either. Figuring anything out was impossible.
It would be easier, I realized, if I opened my eyes. Something must be wrong given how long it took me to think of that. My eyelids felt like lead as I strained to open them, but eventually I managed. The room around me swam into focus.
Above me, rather. I was looking at a ceiling. A familiar ceiling at that. I blinked, summoned my strength, and looked around. Between the dim light and my eyes refusing to cooperate, I didn’t take in much, but it was enough.
“A colony pod,” I breathed. I’d spent time in one of these preparing for the journey to Arcadia. I was in the bathroom of an Arcadia Colony Company pod.
That thought brought my strength back in a hurry. Had we made it? Did I have some kind of stasis-sleep sickness? Was all that horror on Crashland just a nightmare on the long journey to the stars?
It was only when I tried to stand up that I realized I wasn’t just in a bathroom, I was in the bath, soaking in warm water. And Glitch sat at the foot of the bath, watching me intently.
I hauled myself out of the water carefully, my limbs weak and shaking. But they held my weight while I dried myself with the warm, fluffy towel that waited for me.
A warm bathrobe too. Luxury undreamed of. Except, if Crashland had been a dream, it would be normal. So why the relief? Maybe I wasn’t on Arcadia? There was one way to find out. Well, several, but I dismissed the rest. If I called for help and I was a prisoner, that would be bad. Waiting here until someone found me would take hours most likely, since they weren’t here yet. So exploring it was. With a bit of effort, I pulled free the rail from the towel rack and gave it a test swing. Sturdy enough to make a crude club, light enough that I could lift it even in my condition.
Finger on lips, I shushed Glitch and then slid open the door, ready for anything.
A disappointingly empty corridor waited for me. Cooler air blew past and I pulled up the hood of my robe to pad barefoot down the curved hallway, looking for someone, anyone. I couldn’t be alone here, surely? Whether on Arcadia or Crashland, there’d be someone else with me. But as I walked around the ship, Glitch trotting along behind me, no signs of life showed themselves. Not until I was almost halfway around the pod, and I heard a rhythmic sound up ahead. Quiet at first, growing louder as I tip-toed closer. The galley, I realized, and as soon as I knew that, I recognized the sound. The blade on wood, the familiar sound of a chef’s knife in use.
So, whoever it is, they’re armed, I thought, lifting my improvised club higher. My grip was slippery which I put down to hands wet from the bath. Not nervous sweat at all. Nope.
The galley door stood open, lights on bright. And there, standing with his back to me, was a Prytheen. My heart thumped so loud it surprised me that he didn’t hear it. A pirate, a killer, butchering an animal hanging at the far end of the room. Colony pods were equipped for that — some of us would hunt, others raise cattle — but I’d never seen one in use before.
I didn’t like it one bit.
What now? Run? Not plausible, I’d never get away from him when I didn’t even know what planet we were on. Hide? No good. I’d need food sooner rather than later, so I’d have to emerge and get spotted. That only left fight.
Look, I knew it was a stupid idea, okay. I don’t need to hear it again. It was just the best I could come up with, the only one with a clear idea of success. So I crept out from the doorway, crossed the floor quietly. Being barefoot was good for that.
Something, some instinct, screamed at me to stop. At first, I thought fear — perfectly reasonable, I was about to attack a warrior twice my size — but that wasn’t it. I worried that I might injure him.
I didn’t let some misplaced empathy stop me. Once I was in range, I swung the bar with all my strength, aiming for the point where skull meets spine.
It must have been the whistle of the pipe that alerted him. I saw his back straighten, muscles tense, and then everything was a blur. The club went flying one way, I went another, and I never even saw the hands he laid on me to do it. I tried to catch my balance, hit the table hard and then he was behind me, pinning me, rough blue hands gripping my wrists.