Born of Sand (Tales of a Dying Star Book 5) Page 6

  Electricity crackled as Spider pulled out his laser prod. Red light glowed off the dirty walls and floor. "Akonai will--"

  "Akonai, Akonai," Kari taunted. "You're strong with him around. Not so much alone, I think. Run to him if you must, little Spider, but you'll go without her."

  They stared at one-another for a long moment, the only sound the static noise of Spider's weapon. Stop, please, Mira wanted to tell them. I only wanted to prove my worth. I only wanted to help.

  Spider grunted and threw Mira to the side.

  "You think your reputation makes you dangerous," he said. "I don't care how many you've killed. You're a weak assassin on a weak planet. When our Mother's glory is revealed, and the Empire toppled, nobody will care about this useless ball of sand."

  His laser prod went silent as he returned it to his belt. All the breath in the room seemed to exhale at once.

  "We'll see what Akonai has to say about this girl," he said. Kari stood motionless, so he had to walk around her through the doorway. He stopped and turned, leaning close. "And we'll see what he says about you, too. I wonder how much I'd have to peel to find your secrets." He stuck out his tongue and touched his chin, a vulgar gesture.

  Kari's hand swept in front of her face, like she was swatting at a fly. Something hit the floor with a wet splat.

  Spider fell backwards onto the ground. Blood poured from his mouth and he screamed a wordless scream.

  "Be glad it's only your tongue," Kari drawled seductively. Blood glistened on the knife in her hand. "I'd've taken your nose, but I didn't wish to improve your face."

  Blind with rage, Spider clutched his mouth with one hand and fumbled at his belt with the other. He stared up at Kari with pure hate. Blood dribbled out between his hand and ran down onto his chest.

  Lazily, Kari pointed her knife. "Go on, run to Akonai while he can still recognize you. Before I take more from you."

  With one last stare of fury, Spider obeyed.

  Chapter 6

  A strange silence fell over the room after he disappeared. Mira pushed to her feet--with Binny's help--and ran a hand through her sweat-matted hair. "I'm not sure what he'd have done if you weren't here. Thank you."

  Kari whirled on her. "Can you even hold a knife?"

  The question seemed so random that Mira blurted out, "What?"

  "Have you held a knife before, with sinister intent? What about a gun? Or even a star-cursed club? Do you have any idea how to protect yourself? Or do you just allow men like Spider to do whatever they wish?"

  "Spider had a weapon," Mira stammered. "He's stronger than I am."

  "He is that, but only because you're weak." Her tone turned to disgust. "How have you protected yourself? How have you protected your daughters, If you can't even stop a man from grabbing you and dragging you away? No, I don't care to hear your excuses. It's not worth my time to care about someone who cares little about themselves." She stormed out of the kitchen, boots echoing in the hall.

  The tirade shocked Mira worse than Spider's attack. She stood there, staring after Kari, until Binny tugged on her shirt. "Come on. Let's go get cleaning the south hall. I wasn't going to until tomorrow, but we'll want to look busy for when Farrow hears about this."

  Farrow. She'd forgotten about the electroids and the engineers. They stood to the side, arguing about something.

  "Yeah, let's go," Mira said.

  "Wait!" yelled one of the engineers. He approached, holding out the electroid arm. He seemed upset.

  "Hob, she was only trying to help..." Binny began.

  Hob shook the arm in Mira's face. "Why did they train you to wrap the wiring around the pneumatic pump? Why not the core girder?"

  "I... I don't know," Mira admitted.

  "But you worked in the factory."

  "I just followed orders. They showed us how to do it, and we did it. There was no need for them to explain why."

  "I have a theory," said the other engineer. He pointed inside the robot arm. "If you wrap it around the core girder, the wiring will compress every time the finger clamps activate. There's more room on the pump, counterintuitive as it may seem. Right?"

  For some reason he directed the question at Mira. "I suppose. I don't really know."

  "If the original wire grooves get too hot," Hob speculated, "then the fairing cable should probably be moved as well. If we attached it here..."

  That triggered a memory for Mira. "Wait. That's not correct. The faring cables need to be in that specific spot or the forearm plate will put too much pressure on the frame."

  "But the heat..." said the engineer.

  "The heat won't be a problem." Mira hefted the arm. "This is the O-20 model arm. On the O-22 they added an extra layer of thin insulation."

  "O-22?"

  "It's not in production yet," Mira said, "but they trained us on the manufacturing changes ahead of time. Trust me, it will be fine, so long as we add our own insulation. Now, the torso junction box..."

  "Let's head back to the engineering bay," Hob said to the other engineer. "We don't have proper insulation, but I think I have something that will work." They strode toward the door, muttering to themselves.

  Mira felt a tingling sense of satisfaction. The way she usually felt when one of her daughters did something new.

  "Now if you're done talking about electronics," Binny practically spat the word like a curse, "we need to get started cleaning the south hall if we're going to get any sleep tonight."

  The engineers paused in the doorway. "Mira, are you coming?"

  She wasn't sure which felt better: that they used her name, or that they wanted her to join them. She looked a question at Binny.

  The girl said, "Farrow won't be happy..."

  She wasn't disobeying orders anymore--the engineers were asking for her help. That seemed like a good enough excuse. "We'll do the south hall tomorrow," she told Binny. "Go to sleep. I'll see you bright and early."

  "It's never bright down here," Binny pointed out.

  Mira smiled. Clever, like Ami. "Just early, then."

  Mira and the engineers worked together long into the night. They had been doing things their own way for a long time, she guessed based on their stubbornness. Set in their ways. And things Mira took for granted with electroid construction seemed confusing to them, which had led to strange and hilariously engineered workarounds. One rare but important device, the neck servo, allowed the electroids to rotate their head to look around. They had not found that part, however, and so instead had been welding the robot heads directly onto the torso. They seemed quite embarrassed when Mira dug through the pile and showed them what the servo looked like.

  And then there were things that went completely beyond Mira's comprehension. They prodded her regarding programming and logic processors, about which Mira knew nothing. They continued questioning her, insisting she knew something that could help them, until she put up her hands and pleaded ignorance. The electroid programming seemed to be one of the bigger problems they faced.

  Eventually they retired to bed, and Mira did the same. Her room was exactly the same as her cell: cramped space, tiny cot, threadbare blanket that had lost all its color. And yet it seemed somehow completely different. Mira drifted to sleep immediately, with a full stomach and a content mind.

  She rose at what felt like an early hour, eager to begin the day. Instead of going to the kitchen, she went directly to the workshop, where the two engineers were already awake and working.

  "Good, you're up," Hob said. "We want you to take a look at our completed electroids. See if anything queer sticks out. Some of them have very old parts, at least two years old, so it's okay if you don't know."

  "I've been building electroids since the O-11 model," she said.

  "No need to brag," Hob said with a smirk. He went to the wall and yanked on a chain connected to a pulley, which opened a bay door. The dull metal plating of electroids appeared, three rows of them standing vigil. Eighteen altogether.

  They we
ren't joking, she thought as she leaned forward. The first one had parts Mira didn't even recognize. "Help me lower this one to the floor."

  They laid the robot flat and Mira used a bolt-driver to remove the plating on its torso. The innards were in rough shape, every surface covered in either rust or dust, but it had been assembled correctly. She replaced the plating and they carried it back to position.

  One at a time Mira examined the electroids. Most would function, but not perfectly. The majority of Mira's work was identifying where one part could be replaced with a slightly more compatible one. None of the electronics were labeled, but after so long in the factory Mira knew of other ways to tell one model from another. She pointed these differences out whenever she came across them. Binny arrived at some point and began sweeping the floors, watching the scene with concern.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, squinting at electroid after electroid, felt strange to Mira. She'd done similar work in the factory, and at the same time completely different. Here she enjoyed the work, knowing that the purpose of the machines was entirely different. She cherished explaining what she knew to the two men. Throughout her life one thing she'd never had was knowledge. She had always been a useless piece in the factory, easily replaceable at a moment's notice. Yet here her experience translated to knowledge and value. Here she had a quantifiable worth.

  The engineers listened to her like children. They nodded and asked questions, and Hob began taking notes on the workshop computer. When they left to get breakfast Mira waved them off and said she preferred to stay and keep working. They brought her back a long piece of bread with a sweet crust, and something that tasted like tea. With her hunger kept at bay they dove back into the work.

  They had examined and perfected ten of the electroids when Farrow found them.

  Mira didn't notice him until Binny suddenly stopped sweeping. Farrow stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a blank expression on his face. She didn't know how long he'd been watching.

  "G'morning Farrow," Binny greeted him, but he raised a hand to cut her off.

  "We need to speak alone."

  Everyone knew who he meant. The engineers, who had chatted excitedly all morning, grew quiet as they left. Binny followed, sending one final, frightened look into the room.

  Farrow pressed a button to close the door and returned his stare to Mira.

  She sat on the floor, a half-mutilated electroid on the ground in front of her, spare parts arrayed all around. She felt pride at her work, confidence in her skill. She wasn't the same, helpless woman Farrow had found wandering the desert only days before.

  "I gave you explicit orders," Farrow said quietly. "You were to do basic duties around the base before being trusted with anything more."

  Mira put down her bolt-driver. "They asked for my help." She'd been practicing the speech in her head all morning. "I was eating in the kitchen when they came to me, asking me to..."

  "No. Not at first. You waited until they left the workshop yesterday and began tinkering where you didn't shitting belong."

  Mira said, "I only wanted to show that--"

  "Do not interrupt me."

  She fell silent.

  "We have rules. Rules and structure are critical here, more so than anywhere else on Praetar. We are rebels. Traitors. Freeman. Everything we do has an added layer of secrecy so we are not caught. Maintaining that secrecy is only possible if everyone follows orders immediately and without question.

  "The pillar of command may be confusing at the top with Akonai and Spider here, but below that it is quite clear. I am in charge, and you take orders from me. I didn't assign you to cleaning duty because I thought you had no value. I assigned you to cleaning duty to ensure you could obey the most basic orders from your superior. You very clearly cannot. You couldn't even follow my command for a full day of work."

  He paused, fixing Mira with a cold, uncompromising stare. The silence went on until Mira could stand it no longer. "I was eager to prove myself. I need to get to my daughters."

  "And there is the specific problem with this situation," he said. "Tell me. What do you have in common with Spider?"

  "Spider?" she repeated. She scowled. "I have nothing in common with that terrible man."

  "You do not," he agreed. "But the rest of us do. Spider may be a foul man with a cruel heart, but I know exactly what he wants. We all have a purpose here: to throw off the Empire, to return Praetar to the monarchy and restore our Mother's religion. A single goal which unites every single heart within this base, even Spider's. Most of us would die to accomplish that goal, although we hope not to.

  "But you do not care for our cause. You have expressed little animosity toward the Melisao and their occupation. The only thing you care about are your daughters. Finding a way to reach them. I'm confident you would do anything for them." There was a hint of question in his voice.

  "I would," Mira whispered to the floor. "How could I not?"

  "You would do anything for them, anything to reach them. Including betraying everyone in this base to the Melisao. No, don't try to deny it. You may not have such a betrayal in mind now, but if presented with the option I know what you would choose. Frankly, I cannot blame you. A mother's love is a powerful thing."

  He's right. For a brief second Mira imagined that possibility, and she instantly knew what she would do. I would throw them to the Melisao for a chance to reach my girls, she realized. Even Binny.

  The realization horrified her, like discovering a foul creature hiding beneath your bed. She didn't know what to say.

  "That's what I thought," Farrow said, reading her expression. For a moment he seemed like he wanted to say more, but then his face turned sad. "We cannot allow you to leave, and we cannot kill you--will not kill you, at least. Shit. We are not butchers like the Melisao, and I will not begrudge you for caring about your daughters. My only option is to hold you until such a time as we are ready to strike."

  Mira said, "I don't understand."

  "We cannot trust you to roam free. And I cannot spare someone to watch you day and night. You will be confined to a cell in the until we leave this base."

  No. It hit Mira like a hammer. It might be months before they attacked, Binny had said. "Put me back on cleaning duty with Binny! I'll obey this time, I swear it."

  "I cannot trust you to keep that promise."

  "Please, I can..."

  "You very clearly cannot."

  Mira looked at all the electroid parts scattered around the room. In less than a day she had helped so much! Could she get the engineers to convince Farrow? He seemed too determined, his decision already made. All the worth she'd accumulated in her soul blew away like sand on the floor.

  She realized he was still waiting, arms crossed. He didn't have a weapon, but he was waiting to take her away. "I'll be useless in a cell," she said.

  "You'll be a liability out of one."

  A wave of despair crashed over her at the finality in his tone. "Please..." she said, voice cracking.

  "My decision is made."

  "Mine is not," Akonai said. The tall man appeared from the hallway, striding past Farrow into the room. His gaze took in the closet full of completed electroids, the piles of parts scattered around the room, the half-assembled robot in Mira's lap. Finally he looked at her.

  "When did you return?" Farrow asked.

  Akonai kept his eyes on Mira as he said, "Just now. A successful trip. You will be pleased with what I brought back. We have much to discuss, so let us leave this woman to her work."

  Farrow's face darkened. "You may have the broader view of this war, but specific base decisions are my purview. And Mira..."

  "All considerations are within my sphere of concern," Akonai said. "I spoke with your engineers just now. They are quite impressed by this woman's knowledge. You will not allow it to go to waste."

  "She is unable to follow orders. She is not committed to our cause. And her knowledge is cursory, just basic assembly-line muscle memory."
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  "That's not true!" Mira blurted, rising to her feet. "They rotated us among different stations. I'm familiar with the entire assembly process. Just look at what I've done so far!" She swept her hand around the room.

  Farrow looked unhappy. "Let's discuss this privately," he told Akonai. He strode from the room with gritted teeth. Akonai followed, giving Mira one last appraising look. Take me with you, she very nearly called, remembering that he would leave the planet soon. But that would have proved Farrow's accusation, that she only cared about reaching her girls. Shame simmered at the back of her mind.

  Hob stuck a tentative head in the door. "You're, uhh, still here?"

  "I don't know."

  He strode inside, with Binny close behind. The girl's face bore a combination of concern and relief.

  "So, the dual-molex coupling," Hob said, falling back into the same attitude as before. "It's the same in the O-11 all the way through to the O-17?"

  Binny stood with her broom in hand, waiting. Mira looked from one to the other. "I have to go," she said. "Let's go clean the south hall."

  Binny nodded, but still looked worried. Hob and the other engineer slumped their shoulders.

  Doing menial labour bored her after helping in the workshop. It felt so useless, sweeping up sand that would find its way back inside within a day, scouring steam pipes with rags soaked in chemicals. Binny hummed while they cleaned, losing herself in the work, but Mira couldn't keep her mind off of the workshop on the other side of the base.

  She also kept her ears pricked, waiting for the sound of Farrow or Spider to march up, grab her, throw her back in her cell next to the power plant. That possibility terrified her. Up in the desert, wandering from one wind-blown dune to another, she'd been useless. Without her daughters she'd had no purpose, no reason to even continue. She'd accepted it and given up. She'd been ready to die, had spoken the words to the wind.

  No longer. The need to reach her daughters remained a beacon in her mind, along with a new sensation. It felt wonderful being useful, needed. The way she felt taking care of her daughters. Farrow was right that she didn't share the fervency of their cause, but she did despise the Melisao. For the factory where she'd bled and feared for her livelihood every day. For the tiny stacks of credits they doled out every week, and the long food lines just to receive a wormy rock of bread that left her daughters frail and malnourished. Reaching her daughters was still the most important thing, but if she could do that while being a part of something greater, all the better.