Dark Deeds (Class 5 Series Book 2) Page 7

  She nodded. “That's more or less what did happen. But they gave me their word they'd try to fit me in the pod if it were big enough, and for a few minutes there, we worked together. I asked Gerwa his name, and he told it to me, and the name of the guy who hit me, Jiy. From Krik battalion V8.”

  “Did they say anything else?” Vakeri was watching her so intently, she hunched her shoulders a little.

  She shook her head, careful not to dislodge the headband Jasa had fitted. “Not about themselves. And they were lying about trying to fit me in, but I sort of guessed that. I thought it was worth taking the chance, though.”

  “You were lucky they didn't kill you. They'd just murdered all ten crew on a mining vessel and tried to kill three of my team.” His face was set in dark, angry lines.

  “I was more useful to them alive.” Fee rested her chin on her knees. “They needed me to escape.”

  Vakeri gave a short nod. “As I said, you were lucky.” He flicked his sleeve to check the time, and then bowed to her. “I'm glad to see you're recovering.” His words were formal, but he paused, as if he wanted to say more, then simply gave a curt nod and hit the button to open the door.

  As it closed behind him, he was already striding off, and her heart gave a little jump at the picture he made. Big and competent. Fee decided he was a man with a lot on his mind. And when he focused on something, he really focused.

  She remembered how he'd looked when he'd said he had Krik to run down. And shivered.

  * * *

  “Krik battalion V8?” Chel stared at Hal from the regen bed, mouth open.

  “That's what they told her.” Hal still couldn't believe it. The Krik didn't always kill everyone aboard the ships they raided. They sometimes locked them in a hold, or restrained them and left them in a room, but they never chatted to their victims.

  Perhaps that was the difference here. Fiona Russell hadn't been a victim, she'd been useful to them in a way.

  “Does it help us? Knowing their battalion name?” Mun asked from the bed beside Chel.

  She was recovering well, Hal noted with relief. She'd been the worst hit of the team, shielding Chel and Hadri until they could find cover in the miner's launch bay.

  He shrugged. “I don't know, but I'll take it. It's the first indication we've had they see themselves as military units, for a start. It points to some sort of coordination, which we've suspected for a while. And Fiona got two names. Gerwa, who was the leader, and Jiy.”

  “Do you think they told her because they planned to kill her, and didn't think it mattered?” Hadri was sitting up, and although he wasn't as badly hit as Mun, he looked worse because of the bruising to his face.

  Hal thought about it. “Maybe. Or maybe they just got careless. Something about Fiona interested them. They didn't kill her, even though I believe they could have, and the fact that they engaged with her at all is more than we've ever heard of before.”

  “It's the voice, if she's anything like Rose McKenzie,” Chel said. “I could listen to Rose McKenzie sing for hours.”

  Hal thought about Fiona Russell's voice. It was a little lower than Rose McKenzie's, but Chel was right, it was just as compelling.

  Mun was shaking her head, though. “The Krik don't care about singing. Not like we do.”

  “Something about her made them unwilling to shoot her.” Hal was sure it wasn't just because she'd been useful to them. After she'd shown them the emergency pod, they could easily have eliminated the only witness to where they'd gone.

  Just one more mystery to put on the pile that was growing where Fiona Russell was concerned.

  He still thought taking Vilk to Larga Ways and then running the Krik down was the right decision, but he was starting to feel a real itch to get Fiona Russell back to Battle Center, too.

  Something about the way those dark eyes looked at him, wary and watchful. And the way she'd jerked awake, expecting a blow, had sent a white hot spear of rage through him.

  Tak would answer for it.

  And yet, despite her beautiful, sad eyes and bruised body, Hal had to take into account that since she'd been on board, they'd lost comms to Battle Center for the first time since he'd taken command of the Illium a year ago.

  And Hal didn't believe in coincidences.

  9

  Fee came to a cautious stop at the door into the officers' mess, very aware of the two guards at her back.

  Pila and Carmain had been relieved in the night and were now on duty again, vigilant and serious.

  She'd slept for ten hours after her time on the regen bed, and felt better than she had since her abduction. Calmer, more able to take in her new environment.

  It helped that Jasa had managed to patch her up.

  Not being in pain was so surprising, she realized she'd forgotten what it was like.

  Now, she was hungry.

  It was long past breakfast, though, and the room was empty and quiet.

  It was most likely why Pila and Carmain had agreed to her request not to eat in her room. They knew there would be no one here, which had to make their job easier.

  She was grateful anyway.

  She didn't need crowds, in fact, preferred it this way. She just wanted not to look at the same four walls.

  Despite its luxury and size after her cell on the Fasbe, her bedroom was starting to feel confining.

  But now she was in a public place, nerves of a different type assailed her. The three catering staff had noticed her hovering in the doorway, and their surprise and interest was unmistakeable.

  She was as much an oddity here as she'd been on the Fasbe.

  She tugged her shirt down nervously.

  This one fitted her perfectly.

  Carmain had handed her three sets of clothes this morning, all in the same burgundy, which she said she'd found in the stores. They were meant for the cadets who sometimes spent time on Battle Center ships, so Fee guessed she was the right size to be a Grihan teenager.

  The thoughtfulness of the act had delighted her and she turned now and gave Carmain another warm smile.

  Pila made a sound of impatience and walked past her, finding them a table with a clear view of the door.

  Fee glanced his way, then got up her courage to approach the servers and explore the food station. She'd been given nothing but nutrient bars for the last two months. The thought of actual food was exciting.

  “I'll get something of everything for you to try.” Pila was suddenly in front of her, blocking the way to the table and the catering staff.

  She thought about arguing with him to let her see for herself, but when she looked up at him, his face was implacable but not overly officious, and she sighed, gave a reluctant nod, and made her way to the table.

  Carmain gave her a small smile of sympathy and approval as she pulled out a chair for Fee and then took up position at her back.

  “Thank you for not being difficult.” The guard kept her voice low.

  Fee nodded. “I assume you're asking me to do things a certain way for a reason. I'm no expert on personal security, so I'll trust you to know what's best.”

  “What was your job, on Earth?” Carmain shifted behind her and Fee guessed she was angling her body to keep the person who'd just walked into the room in view.

  “I'm an architect. I worked for my family's construction company, designing houses.” It seemed a lifetime ago.

  Pila came back with a laden tray and placed it in front of her. It was way too much for her, and she looked up at them.

  “Would you like some?”

  Both of them shook their heads, and Pila came round to the front of the table, hard gaze never still as he scanned the room.

  Fee didn't know whether she should embrace the tension that snaked through her every time they made it clear how serious they were about her protection, or try to quash it.

  Maybe if she let the nerves hold sway a little, she'd be faster off the mark if she needed to duck or get out of the way. She just didn't see how i
t could be all that likely.

  “Are you really worried about someone attacking me? One of your own colleagues?”

  Pila said nothing, but he looked over at her, eyes steady, and shrugged.

  “We hope not.” Carmain was more forthcoming. “But I know one of Rose McKenzie's guards, Halim, who was injured when Rose was abducted by a Grihan officer. We were in training together. He's a good soldier, and the only reason he and his partner lost Rose was because they didn't expect a betrayal from within. We know better now.”

  “Is he okay, your friend?” Fee asked, twisting in her seat to see Carmain's face.

  She gave a nod. “He and his partner are both fine now. Halim was sorry in the beginning when he was assigned to an explorer like the Barrist, rather than a battleship like the Illium, but he got more action than he bargained for.”

  Fee turned back to the table and looked down at the myriad of small bowls in front of her. She scooped up something that looked like tiny blue peas with a spoon.

  “No!” Carmain's shout came just as she put them in her mouth and she bit down in surprise, her gaze flying to the only other diner, sitting at the other end of the room.

  His head came up with a jerk.

  Pila had his gun up, sweeping it in an arc around the room, and his eyes flicked to Carmain. “Where?”

  Fee twisted in her seat again, to see Carmain staring at her.

  She lifted her gaze and sent a contrite look to her partner. “Sorry. She just put a whole spoon of fring in her mouth. I tried to stop her.”

  Fee bit down again, this time more cautiously, and shrugged. “What's wrong with it? Why'd you give it to me if it was something to be worried about?”

  It was actually quite nice. Tart but not too tart, with a hint of smoky sweetness.

  It also popped in tiny bursts as she chewed, like new baby peas.

  “It's to sprinkle over your porridge,” Carmain said, pointing to a bigger bowl with some kind of cooked grain in it. “It's too overpowering to have on its own.” She shuddered as if the mere thought was too much.

  “I don't mind it,” Fee told her. She picked up the spoon again, this time sprinkling the little blue balls over the porridge, and took a bite. Grimaced. “But that, I don't like.”

  Pila had lowered his shockgun, and he scowled at Carmain. They shared a wordless exchange, and Carmain stepped away from the table and gave a formal bow to the officer who'd been briefly at the other end of Pila's barrel.

  “My apologies, Gerbardi.”

  The officer cocked his head, in that strange, almost canine way she'd seen the Grih do before, and gave a slow nod. “Accepted. These are difficult times.”

  He'd been watching her covertly anyway, and Fee would rather have a conversation with him than eat with him snatching looks at her. So she stood. “Would you like to join me?”

  The officer looked from Carmain to Pila, and when Pila gave a curt nod, he stood himself, bowed, and brought his breakfast over with him.

  “Lieutenant Gerbardi,” he said, and extended his hands, palms together.

  Fee clasped them between her own, and gave the formal half-bow she'd seen them all do. “Fiona Russell.”

  He made a noise, a sort of sigh of contentment, and Pila and Carmain arranged themselves protectively around her.

  “Your voice is truly as lovely as Rose McKenzie's.” Gerbardi looked at her openly now, and she looked back.

  He was a little older than Captain Vakeri, his hair dark brown, almost black, but the tips were blond, and like all Grih, it stood straight up, making him look like a trendy punk rocker. Like all the Grih she'd met, his eyes were a shade of blue, a deep navy, rimmed in a lighter hue.

  “You've met Rose?”

  Gerbardi shook his head. “None of us have met her, except the crew of the Barrist and our leaders.” He shifted in his chair. “We've all seen the comms, though.”

  Of course. Rose would have been interviewed. Been on the Grih equivalent of the news, probably. Fee suddenly wondered if the same would happen to her, and had to carefully swallow back the nausea that rose up at the thought.

  “What comms?” Might as well know.

  “I can show you.” Gerbardi pulled a small handheld from a pocket and tapped the screen. Turned it to face Fee.

  The scene was of a small room with a large table and chairs, like a meeting room of some kind. Almost like CCTV footage, although clear and sharply in focus.

  So, not a media interview.

  Rose was sitting at the table, a handheld in front of her, playing in a bored way with whatever passed for an app in this new world, tinkering with various beats and musical notes and growing more frustrated with the strange directions the music kept going in. Fee saw her stab a finger at the screen, and then she spoke for the first time. “Damn you, autocorrect.”

  Fee laughed, the sound wrenched from her, and she realized it was the first time she could remember laughing since she'd been taken.

  Pila, Carmain and Gerbardi had been watching the handheld with her, but they all lifted their eyes at her laugh to watch her with an intensity she found uncomfortable.

  She focused back on the screen.

  Rose was speaking in English again, or, singing in English, more like. But not song lyrics. She was talking to someone, Fee realized. Pretending to sing, but having a conversation with someone who must be communicating with her via an earpiece like the rest of the Grih seemed to have.

  There was an affection that came through for the person she was talking to, but the words were cryptic, and Fee could only hear one side of the conversation.

  At the end, it seemed as if Rose had been persuaded to sing a song, and when the music started up through Rose's handheld, Fee recognized the opening bars of a recent hit, clear as if she was listening to the radio.

  Rose sang it all the way through, then backtracked, sang again, and then again, adding harmony, back-up singing, perfecting the main tune.

  And finally, she played it all though, each layer added to the other to make a whole, and Fee could see she was caught up enough to dance a little to her own creation.

  Rose was having fun. Despite the tense conversation she'd had at the start, despite the fact that she must have had a similar experience to Fee.

  It was good to see.

  Really good.

  Gerbardi leaned across and tapped the screen and shut it off. “There's another song in the same room, and a few others recorded elsewhere on the Barrist, but could you tell us what the words mean for this one?”

  Fee wanted to ask them who Rose had been talking to in the clip. It was someone who understood English, and who Rose knew well. But the way Rose had sung the words, as if to cover up that she was really having a conversation, stopped her.

  It looked very much like Rose hadn't wanted anyone to know what she was doing, or understand what she was saying.

  And until Fee knew why, she wasn't going to ask anything that might undo that.

  “The song's about someone who was very alone, and struggling, and then they met someone who helped them find a meaningful life again.”

  They stared at her.

  “What?” She shrunk back a little in her seat.

  “We don't sing songs about things like that.” Carmain said. “When Rose sang another song to a group of people on the Barrist, she told them it was about someone leaving on a journey, asking their lover if they would come with them. But we couldn't decide if she was serious or not.”

  “She was probably being serious.” Fee used the excuse of looking down at the food in front of her to avoid their shocked expressions. There was something that looked like fruit, with blue seeds flecked through it, and she took a slice, nibbled at the corner. It had the consistency of pear, with a bitter flavor.

  “Do you ever sing songs about meetings and occasions?” Pila asked.

  Fee frowned up at him. “We sing songs about holidays or for some celebrations. Like when someone is having a birthday.”

 
; Gerbardi leaned forward. “You mean, when it's someone's birthday, they get a song just for them?” He seemed incredulous.

  “Yes.” Fee smiled at him. “So if it was your birthday, the song would be like this.” She sang Happy Birthday To You in Grih, putting Gerbardi's name in at the appropriate place.

  “And if it were my birthday?” Carmain asked.

  Fee laughed and sang again with Carmain's name, and then, because Pila looked like he wanted to ask but was too proud, she sang it through a third time with his name.

  “I've never had a song sung just for me.” Carmain's voice was hushed.

  Fee shifted in her chair. “So, singing is a big deal to the Grih?”

  “We have so few music-makers, and they do not waste their voices on birthday songs and songs about love or friendship; they sing about important occasions.” Gerbardi didn't sound like he could decide if he disapproved of her singing to him, or was as delighted about it as Carmain.

  “Singing doesn't work like that for people on Earth.” Fee said. “We sing about everything.”

  “If you can all sing as well as you and Rose do, then you have a whole planet of music-makers. I can't imagine what that would be like.” Carmain still sounded dreamy.

  “We listen to songs all the time. Some people listen to songs from when they get up, to when they go to bed.” She had always enjoyed designing with music playing in the background. She'd missed that on the Fasbe. And she'd created her own background music when she'd worked in the launch bay, singing softly to herself as she'd loaded and unloaded the pallets.

  The Garmman hadn't had the same appreciation for her singing as the Grih, with Hury hitting her every time he caught her doing it. Although that may have been because it marked her as from Earth, she realized now. If Rose was known for her singing, the last thing Tak would have wanted was his crew knowing Fee could sing just like her. It would have made the funny hood he'd made her wear even less likely to fool people.

  “It actually is Mun's birthday today,” Pila said. He didn't look at her when he spoke, his gaze on the room as if he expected an assassin to jump out from behind a table at any minute.